Category: English

Liam Sterling was in love with my roommate. He brought her to the tense family dinner, ready to confront our parents and publicly detonate the pact they’d made for us when we were kids. He pointed at me, his voice ringing with disdain as he addressed both sets of parents. “I have never, not for one second, loved her. The thought of marrying Chloe makes me sick.” That was the last day I ever loved Liam Sterling. Later, when another guy finally asked me out, Liam did everything in his power to stop it. He stood there, holding the crayon-scribbled “marriage contract” he’d written for me when we were seven. “You promised,” he said, his voice cracking. “You pinky-promised you would only ever marry me.” * 1 I arrived just as the shouting started. Stomping the snow from my boots on the welcome mat, I reached for the door. “I already told you,” a cold voice snapped from inside, “I never agreed to that ridiculous arrangement.” Liam. The sound of his voice stopped my hand in mid-air. “It was an agreement between our families, made when you were children! Are you trying to humiliate Chloe’s parents by bringing this girl here?” Through the crack in the door, I saw Liam squaring off with his father. My own parents sat silently on the couch, their faces tight with tension. “This is my girlfriend,” Liam announced, grabbing my roommate Tessa’s hand and pulling her forward. Liam’s dad turned beet red. “You are marrying Chloe, and that is final! You don’t have a choice!” My hand trembled, and I accidentally pushed the door open. Every head in the room swiveled towards me. Liam’s eyes, cold as ice, locked onto mine. He pointed at me, but his words were for his parents. They were loud and clear, a declaration of war. “I have never, not for one second, loved her. The thought of marrying Chloe makes me sick.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Tessa’s hand and stormed out. His gaze swept over me as if I were a piece of furniture. Behind me, Liam’s parents were stumbling over apologies while my own dad looked like he was about to chase Liam down and punch him. But I just stared at their retreating backs. Liam and I had grown up in each other’s pockets. For all those years, he’d never denied our “arrangement.” When people teased us about it, he’d just smile. I thought he loved me back. 2 That night, after two hours of my parents’ gentle consoling, they finally let me go to bed. Mom called the school and told them I was sick. I couldn’t face going back to my dorm room. Just as I was drifting off, my phone lit up on the nightstand. A text from Liam. Liam: I’m outside your house. Come down. We need to talk. His words from earlier echoed in my head. My childhood best friend, the boy I’d built my world around, had just publicly gutted me for another girl. I didn’t go down that night. But I didn’t sleep, either. I drifted in and out of a dream. A little boy with Liam’s face sat at a desk, carefully writing something with a crayon. He finished, hopped off the chair, and ran over to a little girl with my face who was crying. “Don’t cry, CeeCee,” he said, using my childhood nickname. “You have to marry me when we grow up.” He pressed a waxy piece of paper into my hand, his own version of a marriage contract, his eyes bright and serious. “I’ll always protect you, CeeCee. Pinky promise.” The moon slipped out from behind a cloud, and the sudden light woke me. I wiped the dampness from the corner of my eye. 3 The next morning, Liam cornered me on my way to school. “You’re leaving this late? You skipped breakfast again, didn’t you?” The casual, familiar tone of his voice made me flinch. He held out a paper bag from our favorite bakery. “Chloe,” he said, his voice softer now. “What I said yesterday… I didn’t mean it to be about you. I was just angry at my parents.” I took a step back, away from the bag. “No thanks. The thought of eating anything from you makes me sick.” His hand dropped. He just stared at me, his jaw tight. “Okay. You got your shot in. Are we good now?” He took a breath. “Look, I just want to ask you not to give Tessa a hard time. She didn’t do anything wrong. I went after her.” As it turned out, I didn’t have to give her a hard time. She brought it to me. I had just gotten to class and sat down when Tessa walked over, holding a carton of milk. Her voice was just loud enough to cut through the quiet morning chatter. “CeeCee,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Can you forgive me? I brought you this as a peace offering.” Every eye in the room was on us. I looked from the milk to her face. “Forgive you for what?” She placed the carton on my desk, her eyes welling up. “I never should have accepted Liam’s friend request. I didn’t know he was… yours.” She reached out and tugged on my sleeve, her voice catching. “Please don’t be mad at me, CeeCee. If you want him back, I’ll… I’ll give him back.” Before I could respond, Tessa’s best friend, Maya, cut in. “Seriously, Tessa? Why are you apologizing?” she said loudly. “Chloe and Liam are just friends. You didn’t steal her boyfriend. And Chloe,” she said, turning to me, “maybe you could drop the ice princess act for five seconds?” It was a perfectly executed performance. “You two are good,” I said flatly. “Good cop, bad cop, right?” I pulled my arm away from Tessa’s grasp. I didn’t use much force, but she let out a theatrical gasp and stumbled backward, crashing right into my desk. “Ah!” The carton of milk went flying, splashing all over her shirt. And that’s when Liam walked in. “Tessa, are you okay?” he rushed to her side, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders, his eyes filled with concern. “I’m fine, Liam,” she sniffled. The other students were all looking at me like I was a monster. “What are you all looking at me for?” I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “She tripped.” Liam heard me. I know he did. But all his attention was on Tessa. “I’m taking you to the nurse’s office. Just hang on.” He scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the classroom without a single glance in my direction. It was like I was invisible. That afternoon, Maya got her revenge. As I was coming back from the water fountain, she deliberately slammed into me, spilling her entire cup of bright red slushie down my front and knocking me to the floor. “Oops,” she said with a shrug. “My bad.” Then she walked away. I looked up and saw Liam standing down the hall. Our eyes met. He just stood there, watching me, his expression as cold and distant as if he were looking at a stranger. … Just before the final bell rang, I walked back into the classroom, soaked and shivering. In my hand, I held a thermos. Without a word, I walked over to Maya’s desk, unscrewed the cap, and poured the steaming, pale-yellow liquid over her head. “I did it on purpose,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “And I’m not sorry.” She shrieked, jumping up. “What is this! What did you pour on me?!” I just smiled. It wasn’t until the whole thing blew up and we were in the principal’s office that I clarified. “It was just hot water,” I said. “And two tea bags.” 4 After that, I became a pariah. Everyone avoided me like I had the plague. I started to wonder if I really was the bad guy. Meanwhile, Liam and Tessa became the school’s golden couple, the power-couple scholars. The day they made it official was the day I finally told the truth. “Hey, we’re all going out for a class party on Friday. You, uh, you wanna come?” The class president asked me hesitantly, after he’d already invited everyone else. I tried to look casual, but my hands were clenched into fists under my desk. “Sure,” I said. Maybe I wasn’t as hated as I thought. At the party, someone spun the bottle for Truth or Dare. It landed on Liam. A guy named Josh grinned. “Okay, Sterling. Your childhood sweetheart Chloe and your new girlfriend Tessa are both drowning. You can only save one. Who do you pick?” I never imagined the stupid question would feel like a prophecy. Liam and Tessa were sitting directly across from me. The air grew thick. I stared at the condensation on my glass of soda, not blinking. I could have left. I should have. But I was frozen. Liam let out a short, easy laugh. “What do you mean, *new girlfriend*? Tessa’s been my girlfriend for a while now. I thought you all knew.” In my peripheral vision, I saw him sling his arm around Tessa’s shoulders. “Tessa, honey, can you swim?” “Not a stroke,” she said, blushing. Liam sighed, his voice dripping with affection. “Well, I guess if you fell in the ocean, I’d have to hold onto you the whole way, wouldn’t I?” He never answered the question directly, but the answer was obvious. And fair. She was his girlfriend. It was only right that he’d save her first. I closed my eyes for a second, fighting back the sting. Everyone started teasing Liam about how sappy he was. I made myself as small as possible, breathing shallowly, hoping no one would look at me with pity or scorn. But Tessa wasn’t going to let me off that easily. When the bottle spun to me, she smiled, a picture of innocence. “CeeCee,” she asked sweetly. “Is there anyone here… that you have a crush on? *Or ever had a crush on?*” It was the most viciously kind question I’d ever heard. “And if you lie,” she added with a playful wink, “your whole family will have bad luck forever!” I was trapped. If I stormed out, I’d be the drama queen forever. If I stayed, I’d be the pathetic girl who couldn’t let go. I slowly lifted my head and met Tessa’s triumphant gaze. “Yes,” I said. As soon as the word was out, I felt Liam’s eyes snap to me. Tessa just smiled and tightened her grip on his arm. “I knew it.” A month ago, this would have been the most humiliating moment of my life. But saying it out loud… something shifted. The feeling was distant, like a memory. It was like a soft breeze had finally blown away the last lingering wisp of whatever I felt for him. And when the wind passed, the water was still. In my seventeenth year, the crush I’d been nursing for three years finally died. I was sure of it. I didn’t love Liam Sterling anymore. 5 “Chloe.” Liam caught me as I was leaving the party. He walked over, his expression unreadable. “Today, when you said you liked someone…” He hesitated. “Was it me?” Honestly, I couldn’t muster an ounce of feeling for the boy standing in front of me. “Yes,” I said simply. Then I added, “It *was* you. Past tense. The moment you stood in front of our families and said marrying me would make you sick, I decided to stop loving you. And besides, you have a girlfriend now. I’m over it.” Liam’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, the words sounding hollow. “I’ve always just thought of you as a sister.” I didn’t want to hear his excuses. “Chloe, I’ll make it up to you,” he insisted. I refused, immediately and repeatedly. I showed him with every action that I wanted nothing to do with him or his girlfriend. But Liam, consumed by guilt, didn’t listen. He insisted on bringing me breakfast, even though I threw it back at him every single time. His misguided attempts at kindness didn’t go unnoticed by Tessa. She saw his attention, not my rejection, and decided I was trying to steal him back. And so, her games escalated. The day before our mock exam scores were posted, Tessa was called into the guidance counselor’s office. She came back to her desk and sobbed for the rest of the period. A rumor started to spread: she’d been caught cheating. No one, least of all Liam, believed it. She was second in our class, right behind him. “No way,” people whispered. “That cheat sheet they found couldn’t have been hers.” “Yeah, Tessa would never do that.” I didn’t pay much attention, other than knowing I’d done well on the exam. The next day, after the scores were posted, Liam blocked my path as I was leaving school. “Chloe,” he said, his voice hard. “Did you do it?” I was confused. “Do what?” “Framing Tessa for cheating. Did you plant that note?” he demanded, stepping closer. I scoffed. “You think I have time for that? You really think I care enough about her to go to that much trouble?” He narrowed his eyes. “Then why did your score go up by twenty-seven points?” “Maybe I just studied!” I snapped, my patience gone. “Liam, you’re being paranoid.” His face was a dark mask. He let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Chloe, what happened to you? When did you become like this?” He shook his head, his eyes full of disappointment. “Framing people, lying about it… Is this how your parents raised you?” I was so angry I couldn’t speak. Before I could find the words, he held up his phone and played a security video. It showed the hallway outside the counselor’s office. Between the time the exams were collected and the end of the school day, I was the only person who had entered the office. This was Tessa’s plan all along. She’d planted the note herself, on a test she knew she could ace. The video was the final nail in my coffin. Liam looked down at me, his voice devoid of all emotion. “Everyone has to face the consequences of their actions, Chloe.” He turned and walked away. 6 My last hope was my guidance counselor. This whole case was subjective, with no real proof. But when I walked into her office, she just looked at me with weary disapproval. “Chloe, why would you do something like this? Are you that jealous of Tessa’s grades?” My throat went dry. I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I couldn’t say a word. Liam was there, comforting a teary-eyed Tessa. “Chloe! I thought we were friends!” Tessa cried, her voice thick with fake betrayal. “I trusted you! How could you do this to me?” She grabbed a heavy textbook from the counselor’s desk and hurled it at my face. The sharp corner caught me right on the bridge of my nose. “You almost ruined my life!” she screamed. Liam just looked away. The counselor offered a weak reprimand. “Tessa, we don’t resort to violence.” Then she looked at me, her eyes warning me not to retaliate. “Chloe, if you just apologize, we can drop the whole thing. No mark on your permanent record.” If my score was nullified, I’d be kicked out of the honors track for senior year. But I hadn’t done it. How could I admit to something I hadn’t done? “I’m only going to say this once,” I said, my voice shaking. “I did not frame Tessa.” As the words left my mouth, I felt something warm and wet trickle from my nose. The book had given me a nosebleed. I didn’t wait to see their reactions. I turned and walked out. “Stop.” Liam followed me out, blocking my path. He saw the blood and frowned. But his words were still laced with blame. “Chloe, you have to apologize to Tessa. She doesn’t deserve this.” I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and held it up for him to see, the blood stark against my skin. My voice was barely a whisper. “Liam, can I please just go clean up?” I was so tired. I felt like a person hanging off a cliff, my fingers slipping, with no strength left to hold on. I didn’t even have the energy to argue anymore. Liam’s brow furrowed. “I’ll take you.” He reached for my arm. I flinched away, my eyes on the floor. “Liam,” I said, my voice completely dead. “Please. Just… stay away from me.” 7 In the end, I never apologized. But it didn’t matter. Everyone had already decided I was guilty. Students who used to ignore me now muttered insults as I walked by. And my exam score, the one I had been so proud of, was officially invalidated. The last straw was the mandatory spring field trip. Another perfect opportunity for Tessa to set a trap. “Tessa and Chloe,” the teacher announced, reading from a list. “You two are on firewood duty.” The moment we were deep in the woods, Tessa showed her true colors. I quietly switched on the voice recorder in my pocket. “It must hurt, CeeCee,” she said, her tone light and conversational. “Having your childhood sweetheart stolen away.” I baited the hook. “So, that cheat sheet… you planted it so Liam would hate me for good? To make sure I wouldn’t try to get him back?” She glanced around, then smiled. “Of course. And everyone believed it. How did it feel? When that book hit your face? Did it hurt?” I had what I needed. With this recording, I could destroy her. But she wasn’t done. As I turned to walk away, she shoved me, hard. “Ah—” I tumbled down a steep, wooded slope. But in her moment of triumph, Tessa lost her footing and came tumbling down right after me. We both ended up snagged on the thick branches of a fallen tree overhanging a ravine, dangling precariously. 8 I tried to pull myself up, but the branches were too flimsy. “Liam! Help!” Tessa screamed. A moment later, he crashed through the undergrowth, his face pale with panic. “Liam, I’m so scared,” Tessa whimpered, reaching a hand out to him. He looked from her to me, his eyes filled with a pained apology. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” he said. He stretched his hand out—to Tessa. … “I’ll pull Tessa up, then I’ll get you,” he promised. Tessa’s expression flickered for a second. She took his hand and started to scramble up. I gritted my teeth. “Okay. Thank you.” I couldn’t blame him. She was his girlfriend. The fact that he was even willing to come back for me was more than I expected. But as Tessa was pulling herself onto solid ground, she suddenly shifted her weight. Her hiking boot came down, hard, on my hand, grinding it into the rough bark. With her other foot, she pushed off the branch, making it look like an accident. A shot of pure agony went through my hand. My fingers went numb, and my grip gave way. I was falling. “Chloe!” “CeeCee!”

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My brother Jake always called himself a prankster—cockroaches in my food, cutting my belt before an award ceremony. I complained to our parents, but it was useless. At my wedding, during his toast, he pulled out a fake medical report. “My brother didn’t mean to hide his HIV diagnosis,” he said tearfully. “He just loves his bride too much.” The room erupted. My father-in-law had a heart attack; my fiancée Cici died rushing him to the hospital. I hunted Jake down. He shrugged. “Just a joke. How was I to know they’d be so fragile?” My parents locked me in my room. “He was testing your in-laws,” they said. “It’s their fault for not trusting you.” I jumped from the windowsill. Then I opened my eyes again. This time, I’d give Jake a taste of his own medicine. 1. The blinding flash of a camera jolted me. I stared, bewildered, at the photographer directing our poses. Cici, my fiancée, noticed my unease. She gently wiped the sweat from my brow, her face etched with concern. “Leo, are you not feeling well, honey? We’re about to change for the next set anyway. Why don’t you rest for a bit? I’ll go grab you some juice.” My head was spinning. It wasn’t until Cici helped me to a chair in the waiting area and I saw the date and time on the digital wall clock that it finally sank in. I was back. I had returned to the day of our wedding photoshoot, exactly one week before the ceremony. In my past life, I had spent a month meticulously planning every detail to ensure our wedding would be perfect. But I never could have anticipated the moment my own brother, Jake, would snatch the microphone during the family toasts. “I’m so incredibly happy for my brother,” he had announced. “And I hope he stays strong. I know he can beat this diagnosis.” My mind went blank. Before I could even process his words, Jake continued, his voice thick with false sympathy. “Leo begged me to keep his secret, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. Especially seeing how devoted Cici is to him… I couldn’t let her and her family stay in the dark.” Then, he produced a forged lab report. With sickening detail, he wove a tale of my supposed promiscuity, starting from middle school—how I’d tricked girls into bed, scammed one into taking out loans to fund my lifestyle, and finally, how I’d cheated on Cici and contracted a disease. The joyous celebration instantly soured, replaced by a chorus of curses and accusations. Cici was devastated, her eyes red with unshed tears, unable to form a single word of question. Then her father collapsed from a heart attack. The ensuing car crash on the way to the hospital killed them both. Someone posted a video of the scene online, and I was crucified by an endless wave of public hatred. With no one to turn to and no way to clear my name, I chose suicide. Only in my final moments did I learn the truth: to Jake, it had all been a prank. A joke to “liven things up.” … The memory of that suffocating despair washed over me. I watched Cici approach, a gentle smile on her face as she handed me my favorite juice. In that moment, my resolve hardened into steel. This time, I would not only protect our happiness. I would make my brother understand the true cost of his “jokes.” The wedding day arrived, the venue even more lavish than before. We had even invited a few popular influencers to livestream the event, sharing our joy with the world. As the makeup artist was doing some final touch-ups, Jake burst into the room, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, bro. Quite the wedding. And you didn’t have to spend a cent. Really making the family proud.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “And Cici… damn. Not only is she hot, but she didn’t even ask for anything, just showered you with expensive watches and cars. I noticed her chest looks even bigger today. Guess you’ve been working hard to keep her happy in bed, huh?” He sighed dramatically. “I don’t get it. We came from the same parents. How come you get all the luck with women? You’ve always had gorgeous girls throwing money at you.” Our father, Arthur, who had followed him in, chimed in with a greedy grin. “Don’t be stupid, kid. The money your brother saved can go to you. And you like his car, right? Just take it. Anything you want in the future, just ask. Cici’s family is loaded. It’s all in the family now. When it’s your turn to get married, they can foot the bill for the wedding and the house. We can’t let you get the short end of the stick.” Jake’s eyes lit up. Just then, Cici walked in. Her face darkened as she overheard them, but for my sake, she said nothing. My whole life, Jake had been spreading malicious lies about me, and my parents’ blatant favoritism had always forced me to swallow my anger. Not this time. I was done being their doormat. I glared at Jake, my voice rising to a sharp crescendo. “Did Mom and Dad only teach you how to spew shit? You’re jealous because you’re useless. You have hands and feet—if you want nice things so bad, go be a gigolo! You want us to pay for your wedding? Maybe you should just start calling us Mom and Dad instead!” They were stunned into silence. I had always been the compliant, easygoing one. My outburst left them speechless. After a long moment, Jake finally found his voice, sputtering with indignation. “It was just a joke, man! Why are you being so sensitive?” He sneered. “Besides, I wouldn’t want your life anyway. You’re just marrying into her family, a kept man living off her money. Everyone knows it. People are going to be looking down on you. It’s pathetic, really.” “Who knows,” he continued, his voice getting louder, “maybe one day Cici will get tired of you, find a new boy toy, and kick you to the curb…” Before he could finish, my hand connected with his cheek in a sharp crack. “Even if I am marrying into her family, Cici and her parents treat me with more respect than you ever have! They treat me like their own son. You’re the one who wants to be a leech, so don’t project your pathetic ambitions onto me!” The commotion drew a crowd. Jake, clutching his reddening cheek, was overcome with shame and rage. He started shouting. “You have the nerve to say that? You think you’re so clean? Cici’s family has been nothing but good to you, and you’re still cheating on her behind her back! You even sleep with men! And the most disgusting part is, you contracted AIDS and you’re hiding it from her!” “You’re a sick freak!” At his words, a hush fell over the crowd. The whispers and murmurs died. Even the hotel staff paused, their eyes fixed on me. In that moment, I was the shameless, disgusting man he painted me to be. Everyone instinctively believed him. After all, why would a brother lie about something so serious on his own brother’s wedding day? But that was Jake. He never knew where the line was. It started small, with stupid gag toys. A fake cockroach in the rice cooker. A rubber snake in my bed. I’d be scared out of my wits while he’d be doubled over, howling with laughter. When I stopped reacting to his childish pranks, he decided to escalate. He once snuck into my company dorm while I was out, drenched himself in fake blood, and lay on the floor. When my roommate and I returned, we found him and started screaming in terror. Just as we were about to call the police, he leaped up, yelling, “Surprise!” My roommate was so freaked out he had me kicked out of the dorm. Another time, during an important video conference with a client, he burst in dressed as a masked robber, holding a toy knife to my back. He wanted to see me panic and make a fool of myself. I lost the client. I lost the deal. I was on the verge of a breakdown, but Jake just put on a wounded expression. “Come on, bro, you’re always so stressed. I was just trying to make you laugh.” And my parents, as always, backed him up. “Jake was just trying to cheer you up. Can’t you take a joke? It’s not his fault you’re so timid.” “That’s right,” my father would say. “You’re the older brother. You should be more tolerant. Now, apologize to Jake.” They never understood. Because of his “good intentions,” I didn’t just lose a job I had fought tooth and nail for; I became a running joke among my colleagues. Thinking of this, a cold smile touched my lips. I slapped him again, harder this time. “I’ve put up with your crap for years, but did you forget what day it is? How dare you run your mouth with this garbage today.” Some of our relatives, who knew Jake’s tendencies, tried to smooth things over. “Come on, Jake, you’re always pulling pranks on your brother, but you can’t joke about something like this on his wedding day.” Seeing that some people were still on my side, Jake’s anger flared. He pointed a trembling finger at me, his other hand covering his stinging cheek. “I’m not a kid! You think I’d say something like this without proof? I know everything he’s done. And deep down, he knows it too!” Cici’s expression flickered with a hint of uncertainty, but she stood firm. “Jake, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but I’ve been with Leo for a long time. I know the kind of person he is, and I know he wouldn’t lie to me.” Her friends, who had gotten to know me well, started murmuring in my defense. Their support gave me the strength I needed. “You said you have proof?” I challenged him. “Well, you’d better show it. Otherwise, get the hell out of my sight and never come back.” At my words, our father, Arthur, exploded. “You bastard! Haven’t you embarrassed us enough? Why did we ever have a disgrace like you for a son?” Our mother, Helen, quickly jumped in. “Jake is just trying to help you get ahead of the story, before Cici finds out and it’s too late to fix things. It’s already out in the open, so why are you still denying it? Apologize to her and her family right now!” I looked at the three of them and let out a cold, humorless laugh. I pulled out my phone, opened the livestream, and shoved the screen in Jake’s face. “You see this? There are influencers here, broadcasting this to thousands of people. If you can’t produce that proof, the whole world is going to know you’re nothing but a pathetic liar.” Seeing the stream of comments mocking him, Jake’s face contorted with rage. “Fine! You asked for this! You want proof? Here’s your proof!” He ripped a folded document from his bag and held it up for everyone to see, his finger pointing at the conclusion. “A friend of mine at the hospital asked me to give this to my brother. The diagnosis is right here, clear as day: HIV-positive.” He smirked, his eyes glinting with malicious triumph. “Well? There’s your proof. Try talking your way out of this one!” “If I hadn’t found this by chance, he would have hidden it from me too! He probably would’ve tried to infect me and then blame me for it! And this is after I’ve kept so many of his other dirty little secrets.” “Don’t let his clean-cut act fool you,” he spat. “He’s always been rotten. He was sleeping with girls in middle school, tricking them into taking out loans for him in high school. After college, he barely came home. I found out later it was because some rich old guy was keeping him. He’s a disgusting, twisted pervert!” He was right about one thing: I rarely went home. There was never a place for me there, and I was sick and tired of him. Seeing the “evidence,” the people who had been defending me instinctively took a step back. The online comments immediately flipped. “Whoa, he really has proof. The groom is toast.” “He looks so normal, but what a scumbag. Good on the brother for speaking up. The bride dodged a massive bullet.” “That brother is a hero. The groom is disgusting, sleeping with everyone. He should be locked up, not getting married. The bride needs to get tested ASAP.” I stared at Jake, my voice laced with disbelief. “Jake, where did you get this? Are you trying to destroy me in front of everyone? You know I never even held a girl’s hand before I met Cici. How could I possibly have a disease like that?” It was as if he didn’t hear me. He glanced at the livestream comments, then turned to Cici, his face suddenly crumpling into a mask of sorrow. He grabbed her hands, tears and snot running down his face. “Cici, please don’t blame my brother,” he sobbed. “He only did these things because he was jealous that our parents loved me more. He was just acting out, desperate for attention. It’s all my fault.” “I’m so sorry, on his behalf. He really loves you. He promised he’d get treatment and that he’d never mess around again.” “Please,” he begged, turning to include her parents, “please forgive him.” His performance earned a wave of sympathy from the crowd and the online audience. Cici, however, just stared at him like he was an idiot. She pulled her hands away and looked at me, her eyes full of questions. I put on a frantic, desperate act. “Mom! Dad!” I shouted at Arthur and Helen, who were watching the show with grim satisfaction. “Are you just going to stand there and let him do this? Are you trying to ruin my life? Say something! Defend me!” They exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them. Then Arthur pointed a finger at me and roared, “Shut your mouth! We have no son as vile as you! Must you air all your filthy laundry in public? It’s bad enough you were reckless, but to get a disease… You’ve brought nothing but shame on me and your mother!” “Cici,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “You know the situation now. If you still want to marry our son, we won’t stop you. If you don’t, we understand. But one thing is for sure: all the money and gifts you’ve given our family, we won’t be returning them.” … They played their parts perfectly, their little scheme clicking along. At first, I thought Jake was just jealous. But having died once, I knew the truth. They saw me as a tool, a handsome face they could use to swindle wealthy women out of their money. In that moment, any lingering connection I felt to them was severed for good. I took a deep breath, my voice suddenly calm and clear. “Brother,” I said, with a hint of pity. “Why don’t you bring that report a little closer? Let everyone see whose name is signed in the patient field.”

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I’m a simple, honest woman. And I married the city’s biggest player. A year later, he started coming home later and later, the look in his eyes growing colder with contempt. Then I overheard him on the phone. “A plain woman like her? What makes you think she could ever tie me down?” I let out a long, slow breath of relief. Perfect. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had a good reason to ask for a divorce. That’s the thing about honest people like me—we always have to think of others first. 1 It was the middle of the night when Finn, who had been gone for two months and missed our first wedding anniversary, finally came home. I was in a deep sleep when I was roughly rolled over. Before my face was shoved into the pillow, I caught the sharp, cloying scent of perfume. It was loud and aggressive, just like Finn himself. Except this was a woman’s perfume. I struggled to turn my head, my eyes landing on a face so handsome it didn’t have a single bad angle. His Adam’s apple, prominent and sharp, bobbed as he swallowed. His eight-pack was a fortress of sculpted muscle, the V-lines of his torso disappearing into the shadows below. His eyes burned with a raw, primal lust, a fire meant to consume me. No wonder the tabloids had crowned him “Most Eligible Bachelor” for five years running. But when his eyes focused on my face, the fire flickered. The initial blaze of his desire cooled, though it was clear he had no intention of stopping. Every point of contact between our bodies felt like it was trapped under a spotlight, raising goosebumps on my skin and triggering a desperate, primal urge to flee. I forced a breathy moan. “Honey…” I cooed, pitching my voice into a syrupy, annoying whine. “Honey, you’re back early,” I chirped, faking a girlish excitement. “I missed you so, so much. I was thinking about you so hard I couldn’t even eat dinner.” That did it. The last embers of his interest died out completely. He stopped, rolled off me, and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. “Are you a child?” he grumbled, his voice laced with irritation. “You can’t feed yourself?” I let out a silent sigh of relief, brushing off his question with the ridiculous excuse that I was simply too lovesick to function. Logically, a man like Finn, who had navigated a sea of women, should have seen through my act in a second. But who was I to argue with my own stellar performance? For three years, I had played the part of the devoted, love-struck fool. I’d watched him cycle through a revolving door of girlfriends, my adoration seemingly unwavering. Finn himself once said I was the most persistent, longest-lasting lapdog he’d ever seen. I drifted back to sleep as he went to the balcony to smoke. The faint murmur of his voice on the phone reached my ears. “Finn, man, where have you been? Did you finally settle down for the wife?” Finn scoffed. “A plain woman like her? What makes you think she could ever tie me down?” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Honestly, that first time, I almost couldn’t bring myself to kiss her.” The person on the other end of the line roared with laughter. “Keep it down,” Finn snapped. “It’s the middle of the night. People are sleeping.” Just as I was about to slip completely into sleep, Finn came back inside. He placed a small box on the pillow beside my head. I forced my heavy eyelids open. Inside was a pair of diamond earrings. They were beautiful. They would have been even more beautiful if I hadn’t already seen the matching necklace from the same collection, which cost ten times as much, and didn’t know these were just the free gift that came with it. But I wasn’t angry. Not in the slightest. In fact, a flutter of anticipation stirred within me. It had been a year. A whole year since our wedding, during which Finn had played the part of a reformed man. But finally, he was starting to crack. And so was I. 2 I may be a simple woman, but I have an eye for beauty. I’m average-looking myself, but I’ve always had a thing for handsome men. The thought of an unattractive man grunting on top of me is enough to make me want to die. I’ve worked my ass off my whole life. I knew from a young age that with my looks and lack of connections, no handsome man would ever give me a second glance. I did well enough on my SATs, but it wasn’t enough. In a world of Ivy Leaguers, a degree from anywhere else is basically worthless. A master’s wasn’t enough, so I got a Ph.D. With my earnest, trustworthy face and my unwavering obedience to my advisor, I graduated with honors and landed a position at a top-tier research institute. I thought I had finally made it. But the first time I saw Finn, I knew it still wasn’t nearly enough. So I endured boozy dinners with my superiors, went back to the office to work late, and spent my weekends writing papers for their kids. Finally, at an age where most are just starting out, I clawed my way into a senior management position. And then, I was finally worthy of pursuing Finn. During my pursuit, people tried to set me up on dates. I went. And every single one of them only strengthened my resolve to win Finn over. After each disastrous blind date, I would find an excuse to see him, just to cleanse my palate. One time, at two in the morning, he happened to need a designated driver. I dropped everything and went. “You’re really that into me?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked. In the passenger seat of his convertible, a stunningly beautiful woman was passed out drunk, her silk dress slipping off one shoulder. I nodded, my gaze unwavering. Because I do not have a fetish for ugliness. “Finn,” I said, my voice full of feigned emotion. “I love you.” Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say. I think that saying is meant for this. To love beauty itself. If it just meant loving to dress yourself up, that would be far too shallow. I love myself no matter what I look like. My sudden confession made Finn burst out laughing. The wind whipped through his messy hair, revealing his sharp, handsome eyes, framed by impossibly long lashes. I suspected he’d had work done, but I didn’t care. The slender, mint-flavored cigarette was clamped between his knuckles, and ash trembled and fell to the ground with the vibration of his laughter. “Sadie Chen,” he said, still chuckling. “You’re the first person to make me laugh in a long time.” Yes, even my name is painfully plain. But starting that night, he began to give me a sliver of attention. He went from rejecting ten of my invitations to accepting one or two when he was in a good mood. Sometimes, he would even deign to eat the lunch I brought him. And eventually, we got together. It wasn’t some fairy tale where my devotion moved him to change his ways. He was simply tired of the game, and his family was pressuring him to get married. I was highly educated, didn’t run in his wild circles, had a respectable job, and was a picture-perfect homemaker. His entire family loved me. Everyone except him. I didn’t care about the reasons. All I knew was that my nightmares of being married to an ugly man and having ugly children were finally over. The day I posted our engagement photo, I felt a profound sense of triumph, silencing everyone who had ever called me delusional. At our wedding, looking at Finn’s face—a literal masterpiece of creation—I was practically delirious with excitement. His abs were a tantalizing outline beneath his crisp white shirt. When the officiant told us to kiss, I “accidentally” brushed against his chest. If I could just tie him up in a diamond harness… The thought alone made my innocent little knees go weak. Finn didn’t suspect a thing. After all, I’m an honest woman. His kiss was perfunctory, all technique and no feeling. I didn’t mind. I could make my own fun. That night, I was so happy I thought I would explode. My heart felt like a sponge saturated with pure joy. I let out a deep, satisfied sigh. The only downside was Finn’s complete lack of interest in my pleasure. I was, after all, probably the plainest woman he had ever slept with. Outside, the streetlights twinkled like man-made stars, a small compensation for a sky that had lost its own. I watched his sleeping face, the corners of my mouth turning up. Those sharp, thick brows, that high-bridged nose, those perfectly shaped thin lips. God, he was beautiful. More handsome than any movie star. Aside from the fact he didn’t love me, he was perfect. Oh well. Nobody’s perfect. As long as his face remained intact, I would love him. We honest folk are just that loyal in love. 3 But was what I felt for Finn really love? What even is love? Freud said love stems from a longing to complete ourselves. Jung said great souls are androgynous, that love at first sight is merely falling in love with another version of yourself. So, perhaps I fell for Finn in a quest to become whole. Well, I’m whole now. The next morning, Finn was still asleep when I woke up. His phone screen was lit up with a stream of notifications from profiles with influencer-style names and photos. I didn’t read the messages. I simply plugged his dying phone into the charger. As I stepped over him to get out of bed, his hand shot out and grabbed my ankle. Without opening his eyes, he pulled me down until I was straddling him. “Take care of me,” he rasped, his voice still thick with sleep, a low, impossibly sexy growl. A year ago, I would have pounced on him with glee. But now… I awkwardly climbed off him. “Honey, I have a big meeting with the board today. I can’t be late.” Finn’s expression soured. Before I left, I made sure to add, “I’m going on a business trip for three days. Take care of yourself, okay?” Worried he hadn’t heard me, I sent him a text as well. But I still wasn’t reassured. I remembered he had my messages on mute. So, I sent a message to one of his degenerate friends: I’ll be out of town for three days. Please look after Finn for me, thanks! (smiley face) I got to the office on time. That evening, I stayed late to work. My boss even stopped by my desk. “Sadie, the trip was postponed last minute, so there’s no need to rush the prep materials. You should head home early!” “I’ll leave as soon as I finish this file,” I said. Despite my words, I didn’t leave until ten-thirty. At ten-thirty, I opened the security camera app on my phone and watched as a woman knocked on our front door. Finn answered wearing nothing but a pair of sleep pants. The woman seemed to play shy. Finn gave her a quick once-over, then stepped aside to let her in. My foot slammed on the accelerator. Easy, easy, I told myself. Finn’s not that fast. At eleven, I arrived. My hand trembled as I keyed in the security code, fumbling the first attempt. When the door finally swung open, the scene was one of utter chaos. Lace panties, torn stockings… it was a sight that, for an honest woman like me, was a massive shock. But it seemed Finn was even faster than I’d imagined. The bedroom door was flung open, and the naked woman was shoved out into the hallway. “Finn,” she whined at the closed door, “I flew all this way for you! Don’t kick me out so soon. If you like something else, I can…” Her answer was a lacy bra thrown at her head. “I’ve wired you the money for the plane ticket. Now get out,” Finn’s lazy voice drifted from the bedroom. The woman wasn’t ready to give up. “If you’re not feeling it with me, I have a friend who’s a total smoke-show. Let me show you a picture! She’s at a club nearby, we could all go…” He emerged from the bedroom, glanced at the photo on her phone, and was about to speak. Then he looked up and saw me. The woman’s voice died in her throat. The apartment fell silent. 4 As the woman was leaving, she called back, “I sent you the address! Come soon!” Finn slammed the door in her face. He turned to me. “You’re back early,” he said, his tone casual, completely devoid of the guilt of a man caught red-handed. “Have you had dinner? What do you want? I’ll order something for you.” His words came out in a rush, more than he usually spoke to me at once. I didn’t answer a single question. Finn went to the coffee table, fumbling in the drawer for his cigarettes. I suddenly remembered a girlfriend he’d had years ago, one he’d really liked. She hated the smell of smoke and told him she didn’t want to breathe his secondhand fumes. He quit for her. But she eventually moved abroad for her career, and they broke up amicably. If they hadn’t, I probably would never have had my chance. He never quit for anyone again, and certainly not for me. But I didn’t want to breathe his smoke either, so I made a habit of throwing out any packs I found. He came up empty-handed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. A few seconds later, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. My eyes were wide open. I saw the look on his face—the grim expression of a soldier marching to his execution. I pushed him away. Finn’s face darkened. He had probably never been rejected by a woman in his life. Certainly not by a plain woman like me. “Who was that woman?” I demanded. “Who do you think?” he shot back, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “Sadie, have I been spoiling you?” “You were the one who chased me,” he sneered. “You were the one desperate to be with me. You’ve known who I am from day one. You accepted it then, so what’s with all this drama now?” A few tears escaped my eyes, and I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “I accepted that the man I was pursuing would date other people, break up, and date someone else. But I never said I would accept my husband cheating on me.” My tears fell freely now. Finn’s hand trembled, his expression shifting. But a moment later, he hardened again. “What’s the difference? If you can’t accept it, we can get a divorce.” He said the word “divorce” so lightly, as if he were saying “break up” to any of his ex-girlfriends. He was certain I wouldn’t be able to leave him. That I would cry and beg and fight to win him back, just like all the others. Maybe even more desperately. There was a time I thought so, too. The streetlight outside seemed to be broken. It flickered on and off, looking more like a real star than ever. But I knew that around four or five in the morning, it would shut off completely, a sudden darkness that would jolt you awake. It was worse than Cinderella turning back at midnight; at least she was a genuinely kind and beautiful person to begin with. “Okay,” I said, my voice soft. Finn froze. Before he could process it, I continued. “Finn, let’s get a divorce.”

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To welcome my son’s girlfriend for her first visit, I’d orchestrated the evening with the precision of a state dinner. The warm, lively atmosphere at the dining table shattered the moment Leo said the word, “Mom.” His girlfriend’s eyes raked over me, sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel, her brow furrowed in a tight knot. She turned to my son, her voice laced with venom. “So this is the ‘sweet stepmom’ you told me about? The one you’re so close with?” She made a small, contemptuous sound. “A young widow and a boy turning into a man, all alone in a big house,” she continued, each word a deliberate sting. “It’s a tinderbox waiting for a match, isn’t it?” Leo and I froze, the words hanging in the air between us like poison. But then she just waved a dismissive hand, her face morphing into a mask of magnanimity. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal,” she announced. “I get it. This whole taboo stepmom thing is a popular fantasy, right? We’ll just… turn the page.” 1 Leo had told me he was bringing his girlfriend, Krystal, home to meet me. They’d been together for two years, and marriage was on the horizon. That day, I had the house staff polish every surface until it gleamed and arranged for a lavish dinner to be catered from a Michelin-starred restaurant. “We’re home!” I heard Leo’s cheerful voice from the second-floor landing. As I descended the staircase, I saw him sorting through a small mountain of luggage. Standing beside him, engrossed in her phone, was a petite, pretty girl. “This is my girlfriend, Krystal.” Krystal finally looked up from her screen, her gaze sweeping over me for a fraction of a second before being drawn to the soaring ceilings and expensive decor of the foyer. She said nothing. She was the woman Leo loved, and this was her first time in our home. I took a deep breath, forced a smile, and stepped forward to greet her. By lunch, I was trying to bridge the awkward silence. I used the serving utensils to place a delicate piece of Chilean Sea Bass on her plate. “This is the restaurant’s signature dish,” I said warmly. “It’s exquisite. Even their regulars have to order it weeks in advance. You have to try it.” Leo chimed in, oblivious. “Yeah! The sea bass is the best thing they make. It’s Mom’s favorite. You’ll love it!” The effect was instantaneous. Krystal, who had been smiling just a moment before, went rigid. Her face darkened, her knuckles white around her fork. “Leo, what did you just call her? She’s too young to be your mother.” Leo blinked. “Didn’t I tell you? My parents passed away when I was young. My stepmom, Ava, raised me. It’s always just been the two of us.” Krystal’s face was a storm cloud. Her eyes darted between me and Leo as if she were connecting invisible, sordid dots. Finally, while Leo and I were still trying to understand what was happening, she slammed her fork down on the table. “If I had known you had a ‘stepmom’ like this,” she spat, “why would I have even come here?!” Leo and I just stared at each other, speechless. She shoved her plate away. It didn’t break, but rice and fish flew across the table, splattering my face and my silk blouse. “The sea bass? What exactly were you trying to say with this dish, Ava?” she sneered. “A little reminder that even though Leo and I are in love, his taste is still your taste? That you’re the queen of this castle?” “You look like you’re in your thirties. How much older are you than him, really? A widow who never remarried, choosing instead to stay here and raise this handsome young man? Don’t insult my intelligence. I know exactly what kind of arrangement you two have.” What in God’s name was she talking about? Leo finally snapped out of his stupor. “Krystal, what is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? Ava is my mother! Our relationship is completely platonic! I love her like my own mom!” he insisted. “And you know how I feel about you!” I sighed, about to murmur some platitude to smooth things over. But Krystal violently pushed Leo away. She glared at me, her eyes burning with a hatred so intense it was as if I’d stolen him from her right then and there. “Relax. Both of you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m not an idiot. I’ll keep your dirty little secret.” Then her eyes welled up with crocodile tears. “Ava, you’re still a beautiful woman, and I know it hasn’t been easy raising Leo all these years.” “But you can’t use that as leverage to emotionally blackmail my boyfriend! I won’t allow it!” In all my years, I had never encountered a creature so thoroughly delusional. If this lunch continued, I was certain my composure would crack. It was better to let Leo handle it. Young couples fight; they would sort it out. “I’m full,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You two eat. Your room is on the second floor. It’s been prepared.” I turned to leave. “Oh, finally found your sense of shame?” Krystal’s voice followed me, sharp and ugly. “What kind of ‘stepmom’ raises a boy in every sense of the word, huh?” “What are you even imagining? Nothing ever happened!” Leo’s voice rose, pulling her back into an argument that quickly escalated into a full-blown shouting match. I closed my bedroom door, and the world finally went quiet. I didn’t see either of them until dinner. When I came down to the dining room, the table was set, but Leo was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t answering my texts. I figured they’d gone out somewhere to cool off. But as I turned, a figure emerged from the shadows. Krystal was standing right behind me like a ghost. I gasped, stifling a scream. “Krystal? Are you eating alone? Where’s Leo?” A triumphant smirk played on her lips. She deliberately bumped my shoulder as she passed me and sank into a chair. “Seeing me here by myself must be breaking your heart, huh, Ava? So sad and angry?” My gaze drifted to the tureen of hot soup on the table. I felt a sudden, childish urge to see if dumping it over her head might shock her back to reality. She jutted her chin out, arrogant. “I knew you wouldn’t give up so easily after lunch. But I didn’t think you’d be so desperate you’d change your outfit just for dinner.” “Hoping to lure him into your room tonight? Dream on,” she hissed. “We were very… busy this afternoon. He’s exhausted. You probably won’t see him until tomorrow. So you changed for nothing, you old hag.” I was speechless. She had apparently forgotten that she was the one who had flung food all over me. And my current outfit—tailored trousers and a long-sleeved cashmere sweater—was modest enough for a trip to the grocery store. Seductive it was not. She, on the other hand, was poured into a spaghetti-strap top and shorts so small they were more of a suggestion. Her skin was a canvas of angry red marks. For a second, I thought she’d been beaten. I gathered my patience, what little of it remained, and issued a final warning. “Krystal, I don’t know what kind of twisted script you’re reading from, but Leo and I are mother and son. Period. If you continue to sling this filth, I don’t care if you become his wife—you will be out of this house.” I wasn’t joking. It was clear that being gracious with her was pointless; it only invited more aggression. My words seemed to puncture her bravado. “Who the hell are you to tell me to get out?” she shrieked. “This is my man’s house!” “You’re just a bitter old woman who’s losing her mind! Don’t think you can control Leo just because he has a soft spot for you. You’re the one who should get out!” she yelled. “You’re lucky you live here. Back where I’m from, they’d have dealt with a woman like you a long time ago!” I smiled at her, a slow, cold smile. “If there were even a hint of what you’re imagining between Leo and me,” I said softly, “do you really think there would have been any room for you?” With that, I calmly sat down and began to eat my dinner. Krystal stared at me, so enraged she was sputtering. “You’re not eating?” I asked casually. “Well, in that case, you’re free to go ask him right now. Ask him who should be the one to leave.” Her eyes practically bulged out of her head. Finally, she threw down her napkin in defeat. “You just wait! He’d have to be blind to choose you over me!” She stormed away, her retreat looking more like a panicked flight. I almost laughed out loud as I enjoyed the sumptuous dinner in blessed solitude. Less than an hour later, the sound of their fighting was loud enough to penetrate my bedroom walls. “Leo! Who do you really love? If you love me, you’ll kick your stepmom out!” “There is no way she and I can live under the same roof!” I found Leo in the grand foyer, rubbing his forehead in frustration, dark circles already forming under his eyes. Krystal was clinging to his arm, relentless. “Didn’t you tell me yourself that your dad was perfectly healthy before he married her? How did he just drop dead three years into the marriage? You two, all alone together? Ha! I think you were just lucky you survived this black widow!” “Are you going to kick her out, or do you want to end up like your dad?” Leo lowered his hand, his brow furrowed, his expression wavering. I descended the stairs. Our eyes met across the cavernous space. Neither of us spoke. Krystal’s face twisted with even more jealousy. “See! Look at the two of you! Don’t tell me you’re just mother and son!” “This afternoon, I asked you if I made you feel better than your stepmom does, and you said yes!” she screamed at him. “How would you know what’s ‘better’ if you’ve never been with her?” Leo’s jaw dropped. He stammered, “I—I didn’t even understand what you were asking! How could I possibly compare you two in that way? Krystal, don’t misunderstand!” He shot a panicked look at me. “Ava, you can’t misunderstand, either. I truly don’t have any other… feelings…” Before he could finish, Krystal let out a choked sob, smashed a porcelain vase on the hall table, and ran out into the night. “Krystal!” Leo looked from her to me and back again, swore under his breath, and chased after her. I lowered my gaze, the curtain falling on a ridiculous, exhausting drama. I had a company to run in the morning. I needed to sleep. But when I woke up the next morning, I found my house filled with a crowd of strangers. As soon as I appeared on the landing, a stout, round woman bustled forward and grabbed my arm to help me down the stairs. “So this must be Leo’s stepmom!” she gushed. “You’ve kept yourself so well! You look like you’re in your twenties, even prettier than our Krystal!” Given Krystal’s behavior yesterday, I expected her to erupt. Instead, she stood silently by the sofa, unnervingly quiet. I pulled my arm away and stood my ground on the stairs. “And you are?” “Oh, where are my manners! Honey, I’m Krystal’s mother. Name’s Brenda. You can just call me Brenda.” She beamed, trying to project an image of rustic warmth, but her eyes glittered with shrewd calculation. “Krystal told us she was coming home with her boyfriend to meet the family. This is a big deal! Of course we had to come along for the ride!” I rested my hand on the banister, looking down at this troupe, and waited for the next act to begin. It wasn’t long. A strange man detached himself from the group and sidled up to me, a leering grin on his face. I recoiled, but he stuck to me like glue, even reaching out as if to embrace me. “Sir, I suggest you step away from me,” I said, my voice ice. “Or I will call the police and report you for harassment.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard me, his hands still reaching. Just as I was about to kick him where it counted, Brenda scurried over and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you worry now, honey. This is my brother, Mitch. It seems he’s fallen for you at first sight!” The man, Mitch, muttered, “So pretty… why can’t I touch? When we’re married, I’ll touch all I want.” My face hardened. “Does your brother need to see a doctor?” Krystal suddenly found her voice. “Don’t you say that! My uncle is perfectly smart!” Mitch’s eyes roamed over my body, his face twitching. “You… you better listen,” he mumbled, his voice thick and garbled. “Or… husband’s gonna have to teach you a lesson…” “You’ve been a widow for years, haven’t you?” Krystal said, her chin high. “This is my uncle’s first marriage. You should be grateful!” “Once you’re family, I’ll forget all about your disgusting little affair with Leo. But if you don’t play along, I’ll post everything online and make you two a trending topic,” she threatened. “Leo will be a social pariah, and you can kiss your precious career goodbye.” Leo sat on the sofa through it all, his head bowed, saying nothing, as if he were a mere spectator at this circus. When he felt my eyes on him, he didn’t even flinch. It was clear he intended to sit back and watch this absurd shakedown play out. My disappointment in him was a physical blow. After his father died, I had poured everything into this boy. I treated him as my own flesh and blood, nurturing him, guiding him, giving him every advantage. Brenda smiled her folksy, menacing smile. “It’s how the world works, honey. A woman’s gotta get married! Besides,” she added with a wink, “a stepmom and her grown stepson living under the same roof… tsk, tsk. It doesn’t look good, does it?” Mitch continued to undress me with his eyes, a line of saliva glistening at the corner of his mouth. I looked down at their greedy, vicious faces, and a slow smile spread across my own. Brenda, in her mountain of garbage, had managed to say one true thing. I couldn’t live with Leo anymore. “You’re right,” I said. “It’s time for a change.” No one expected me to cave so easily. Krystal, who had a whole speech ready, was left speechless. Brenda was overjoyed. She slapped her thigh and shoved her brother toward me. “Mitch, you’ve got yourself a wife! Go on, give her a hug!” She was beaming. “Quick, quick, someone take a picture for social media! Our Mitch has a wife!” she crowed to the rest of her clan. Then she turned back to me. “See? It’s better this way. What kind of life is there for a widow? You need a man.” “And if it weren’t for Krystal, for making you family, we wouldn’t even consider a woman like you. Bad luck, you are, sending your first husband to an early grave.” “From now on, you serve my brother well. Give me three healthy nephews, and our family won’t treat you badly.” “First,” I said calmly, “there’s something I have to do.” Their expressions immediately soured, afraid I was about to back out. “I am still Leo’s stepmother, the lady of this house. To marry your brother just like this… it’s not right.” “First, I need to inform my late husband. And I need to formally sever my maternal ties with Leo. Only then can I move on with a clean slate. Don’t you agree?” Brenda stared at me, her eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she couldn’t find a flaw in my logic. She reluctantly nodded. Krystal looked satisfied. The venom was gone from her face as she ran over to loop her arm through Leo’s. What a perfect, loving little couple they made. I led the procession to the study on the ground floor, where a portrait of my late husband, Arthur, hung in a place of honor. His black-and-white image looked down on us all. Leo dutifully knelt. I lit a stick of incense. Through the fragrant smoke, I felt a sting in my eyes. “Arthur,” I said softly, “you see what’s happening in our home.” “It’s been so many years since you’ve been gone. I raised Leo, and now he’s a man, ready to start his own family.” “So today, in front of you, Leo and I are severing our ties. From this day forward, we are strangers.” Leo repeated the vow, his voice flat, and bowed his head to the floor three times. I took a deep, steadying breath, a profound sense of peace settling over me. Then I pointed to the front door. “There,” I announced. “You are all witnesses. Leo and I have no relationship.” “Now, all of you, please take your things and get out of my house.”

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The boss I was secretly in love with suddenly gave me a fountain pen. In that instant, a stream of text scrolled across my vision, bright and intrusive like a chat feed on a live stream. 【Hehe, our girl has no idea that pen is empathically linked to the male lead, does she?】 【This is gonna get so good! I heard the smut in this is top-tier, is that true?】 【Totally true. The guy’s an absolute stallion. This story is a five-star read, guaranteed!】 I froze on the spot, my mind reeling. I reached out and stroked the pen. The next second, the man sitting across from me—my boss—let out a sharp, muffled grunt. 1 Nobody is supposed to be in love with their boss. Except for me. Because he was good to me. Impossibly good. I’d been working in the Executive Office ever since I graduated, straight into the lion’s den of Cole Corp. My boss, Mr. Liam Cole, was a man carved from ice. He was cool, distant, and spoke only when necessary. But if someone on his team screwed up, he could dress them down with a glacial fury that left them weeping at their desks. But with me… I always felt he was different. It’s normal to be clumsy with procedures when you’re fresh out of college. The other executive assistants in the office were drowning in their own work, so no one had time to mentor the new girl. It was my own fault, really. I was just dumb enough to make a colossal mistake. The moment I was summoned to his office, the senior assistants all looked at me with the kind of pity you reserve for the condemned. My heart hammered against my ribs as I walked the green mile to his door. But inside, Liam Cole’s expression was perfectly calm. He just asked me if I was adjusting to the company, if I felt comfortable, if my colleagues were treating me well. He never even mentioned the mistake. When I walked back out, every head in the office snapped toward me. I quickly bowed my head, pretending to sniffle back tears. I might have been new to the corporate world, but I understood that much. Special treatment breeds jealousy. It was better to look like I’d been chewed out, just like everyone else. 2 I worked at Cole Corp for over a year. Every day, my senior colleagues were hounded and stressed, running around like their hair was on fire. I, on the other hand, had to pretend to be hounded and stressed. To deserve the quiet grace Liam Cole showed me, I threw myself into my work, becoming more meticulous, more dedicated than anyone. I couldn’t betray the unspoken faith he had in me. I could never quite figure out what it all meant. What I meant to him. But I wanted to do everything in my power to make him see me, to impress him. I knew, in that quiet place in my heart, that his kindness toward me was unique. It wasn’t overt, nothing anyone could point a finger at. Maybe it was just a hint of affection, a flicker of something more. I told myself not to overthink it. It was enough to see him every day. I was earning a fantastic salary for a job that, for me, was surprisingly calm. What more could I possibly ask for? 3 The company landed a massive new account. Everyone who had worked on the deal was getting a bonus. For the Executive Office, those bonuses were handed out personally by the CEO himself. I filed into his office with my colleagues. Liam Cole produced a stack of thick envelopes, his voice as cool and crisp as ever. “For your efforts.” As the newest hire, I was last in line. One by one, my colleagues accepted their envelopes, their faces lit with joy. When my turn came, there was nothing left. Liam’s face was unreadable. “Ellie, you’ve only been with the company for a little over a year. Your seniority doesn’t quite qualify for this tier. I got you something else.” My colleagues craned their necks, their curiosity piqued. He slid a sleek, dark blue box across the mahogany desk. “Open it.” What could possibly be better than a fat check? Confused, I lifted the lid. Nestled in the velvet lining was a handsome fountain pen, its body the color of a midnight sky. Tied around it was a tiny, almost comically delicate, pink ribbon. And in that instant, a stream of text scrolled across my vision, bright and intrusive like a chat feed on a live stream. 【OMG, he basically just handed over his junk! LMAO!】 【Hehe, our girl has no idea that pen is empathically linked to the male lead, does she?】 【This is gonna get so good! I heard the smut in this is top-tier, is that true?】 【Totally true. The guy’s an absolute stallion. This story is a five-star read, guaranteed!】 I froze, my fingers hovering over the box. Junk? Empathically linked? Stallion? Was I hallucinating? Maybe it was all the late nights I’d spent binge-watching shows. Liam Cole’s voice, a little strained now, pulled me back. “You don’t like it?” 【Aww, our poor guy is shattering.】 【What if she doesn’t like my gift? It’s literally my soul in a pen!】 【Ellie, just nod! Say you like it! PLEASE!】 【Look at him, trying to act all cool, but he’s probably gripping the underside of his desk so hard his knuckles are white.】 “I love it,” I blurted out. Then, on a whim, driven by a bizarre impulse, I reached into the box. My heart started to pound, a frantic, wild rhythm. I only meant to touch the pen, just to feel it. “Wait—” Liam started to say. But my fingers had already closed around the smooth, cool barrel of the pen, stroking it firmly. Across the desk, a low, guttural sound escaped his lips. He let out a sharp grunt, and the tips of his ears instantly flushed a deep, tell-tale red. The sound was so intimate, so charged, it sent a shiver straight through me. My colleagues stood awkwardly to the side, confused but too intimidated to speak. A slow smile spread across my face. “Thank you, Mr. Cole. This pen… I absolutely love it.” 【AAAAH! He’s dying! One touch and our boy is losing his mind!】 【I live for moments like this. When she plays him like a fiddle!】 【OMG, this is way too hot. Ellie, you keep doing you. Wreck him!】 【I’d be different. If my boss’s junk was linked to a pen, I’d stomp on it. Just sayin’.】 I caught it then—the subtle tightening of his jaw. Was he gritting his teeth? Fighting for control? “If you like it, then take good care of it,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Don’t disappoint me.” I nodded, my smile widening. “Of course. I’ll make sure you’re completely satisfied.” I had no idea where he’d found a pen with an empathic link, but one thing was suddenly crystal clear. I was living in a trashy romance novel. And with a world built on bizarre rules like this, who was I to argue? 4 As soon as we left his office, Liam strode past us, his steps clipped and fast, heading straight for the men’s restroom. 【Hehe, couldn’t hold it in anymore? Gotta go relieve some pressure?】 【Just one little touch and he’s already at his limit. This guy has zero self-control. I’m worried for our girl’s future.】 【Wait, she’s reaching for it! What’s she gonna do?! Oh my god!】 【OMG, if she carries that pen with her everywhere, does that mean he’s going to be at full mast 24/7?】 So, Liam Cole was a closet freak. After more than a year of pining, the most he could manage was to secretly gift me his… remote control. Fine. I could be generous. I’d help him get his release. From now on, the ball was in my court. Back at my desk, I took the pen from its box. I untied the little pink ribbon and ran my fingers up and down its length. Then, I uncapped it and tentatively started to write on a notepad. Just as I suspected. The pen was full of ink. The characters flowed onto the page, rich and dark. 【AAAAAH! HE’S ON THE TOILET AND HE’S GONNA DIE!】 【HOLY SHIT, ELLIE, YOU ARE A NATURAL AT THIS!】 【Stop writing, stop writing! He’s literally biting his tongue!】 【Jesus, this guy is bold. Isn’t he afraid of dying from dehydration?】 An image of him, undone and losing control, flashed through my mind, and a wave of heat washed over me. Suddenly, a hand snatched the pen from my grasp. It was Chloe, my least favorite colleague. “Tch. It’s just a regular pen. Nothing expensive. I can’t believe he’d give you this as a bonus,” she sneered. This pen was linked to Liam Cole. It couldn’t be in her hands. That would mean he was… 【Phew, our guy is smart. The pen is only bonded to Ellie. Even he can’t activate it by touching it himself.】 【He must have planned for this. Knew that other people would inevitably touch it.】 【He’s coming out of the restroom now. Wonder what his face will look like when he sees his junk in someone else’s hand.】 【Ellie looks like she’s about to cry, my poor baby!】 “Give it back!” I snapped. Knowing it was safe, thanks to the chat feed, didn’t stop the surge of anger. I wanted to snatch it back, but I was afraid she wouldn’t let go. What if she damaged it? What would that do to him? “Whoa, so protective,” Chloe taunted, inspecting the pen from end to end. “There’s nothing special about it. Lame.” She tossed it back on my desk. “But seriously, Ellie. Are you into Mr. Cole or something?” Her voice was deliberately loud. The entire office turned to look. My face caught fire. “That’s ridiculous!” Just then, a cold voice cut through the tension from behind me. “What are you all talking about?” 【Ooh, you bad girl, Ellie. Just a minute ago you were playing with him until he was seeing stars, and now you’re denying it!】 【He’s breaking. I can practically see the cracks forming. His hands are shaking.】 【Oh my god, he’s the petty type. Ellie, you better watch out. He’s gonna get you back for this until you can’t see straight.】 【Hehe, and I, for one, can’t wait!】 I turned around. Liam’s face was so dark it looked like a storm cloud had settled over his features. I’m screwed. That was my first thought. Chloe immediately started playing the victim. “Mr. Cole, I just wanted to look at her pen, and she got so nasty with me.” Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, Liam let out a cold, humorless laugh. “That’s her property. Did you ask for her permission before you took it?” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Chloe, you’re a senior member of this office. How have your manners gotten so sloppy?” He stared her down. “Give it back to her. And don’t make me say it again.” The other assistants were practically vibrating with the drama. With Liam backing me up, what did I have to be afraid of? “Chloe,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. “Could you please wipe it clean and put it back in the box for me? It was a gift from Mr. Cole, you see. I treasure it.” Chloe’s face contorted with rage. “Mr. Cole, look at her! You’re spoiling her! She’s getting arrogant, walking all over everyone!” Liam’s expression darkened even further. “Did you not hear what I just said?” Chloe deflated instantly. She fumbled for a tissue, wiped down the pen with shaking hands, and placed it back in its box. I looked up at Liam. “Don’t worry, Mr. Cole. I promise I’ll take very good care of your pen. I’ll keep it with me at all times, where no one else can touch it.” He gave me a long, deep look. Without another word, he turned and went back into his office. For some reason, he seemed even angrier than before. 【Ellie is being so formal. Our poor guy is heartbroken.】 【Well, she doesn’t know how he feels about her yet! She’s just trying to appease her boss.】 【When is this plot going to speed up? I’m so over the slow burn!】 5 That evening, I sat on my bed, staring at the pen in its open box. I was afraid to touch it, worried about what might be happening on his end. 【He’s in the shower! AAAAAH!】 【Damn, he has a nice body. Abs, pecs, delts… It’s just, that one area is all pixelated, I can’t see.】 【You don’t need to see it to imagine it. This is a spicy romance novel; you think the author would give him anything less than a cannon?】 【Whoa, he’s washing himself so… thoroughly. I feel like I shouldn’t be watching this.】 He was in the shower? Without a second thought, I snatched the pen and wrapped my hand around it. The chat feed exploded in a collective shriek. 【AAAAAHHHHH! SO SUDDEN! His knees buckled! He almost fell! Thank god he caught himself on the wall!】 【OH MY GOD, ELLIE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! MORE! GIVE US MORE!】 【His face is so red! He looks like he’s about to pass out from pleasure!】 【Ellie, Ellie, your timing is impeccable!】 I thought for a moment, then uncapped the pen. As expected, a single, dark drop of ink welled at the nib and fell onto the tissue below. It had leaked. 【HOLY HELL. So he wasn’t washing himself?】 【He was ‘polishing the silver’! No wonder it seemed so weird!】 【I mean, his expression was so stoic, how were we supposed to know?!】 【I can’t wait to see if he keeps that same poker face when he’s doing the deed with Ellie…】 “Huh. The quality of this pen isn’t that great,” I murmured to myself. I took a tissue and dabbed at the inky tip, then gripped the barrel again. 【AAAAAH, is she gonna do it again?!】 【I think she’s going to write something. HOLY SHIT! Can he handle it? Don’t make him spit ink and stick his tongue out again!】 【Please, wait a second, Ellie! Let the man recover!】 【This novel is so damn good. Author, please write another one! I’ll preorder it right now!】 Suddenly, my phone rang. Liam’s voice came through the line, tight with restraint. “What are you doing?” What do you think I’m doing, baby? “Just looking at my phone,” I said innocently. “There’s a file that needs your attention,” he said, his tone clipped and professional. “Drop what you’re doing and come into the office.” Work overtime? He had to be kidding me. I squeezed the pen a little harder. 【AAAAAH, HE CAN’T TAKE IT, ELLIE!】 【He’s so desperate he’s resorting to making up work for her! He’s running on empty, baby!】 【Hahaha, is this the same overpowered male lead I know and love?】 【Well, she did make him spit a lot of ink at the office today. He’s probably scared.】 A beat of silence, then: “Are you… using the pen right now?” “I am.” Another pause. “Stop using it for now. The ink cartridge in that pen regenerates a little ink automatically each day. If you use too much, it’s bad for the… the pen. You should use it sparingly. Cherish it.” 【I have a feeling he’s not talking about the pen.】 【Of course he is, baby. What else would he be talking about? ;)】 【Girl, you’re reading a smutty novel and you don’t get the subtext? Come on!】 【Ellie’s blushing! Why is she blushing?】 【Something feels weird… It’s almost like Ellie knows…】 “I understand, Mr. Cole.” My voice became a little husky, a little sweet. “I’ll be very careful with the pen. But I don’t want to work overtime. Is that okay?” Perhaps it was the knowledge of the power I held. I couldn’t help but sound a little coquettish. His voice on the other end was barely a whisper. “Okay. Then… come to my office tomorrow.” “Mmm, I will, Mr. Cole,” I cooed. 【She’s so happy she doesn’t have to work overtime! She’s so cute, I could just die!】 【So sweet I’m getting a cavity. Of course our boy is at full mast again!】 【With this little self-control, Ellie is going to be the death of him.】 【I can’t wait, I can’t wait! Plot, move faster!】 【And just like that, he’s back to polishing the silver.】 【Ellie, touch the pen again! I’m begging you!】 I considered it for a moment, but decided to give him a break. I carefully wrapped the pen in a tissue and placed it back in its box for the night. 6 The next morning, I brought the file Liam had mentioned to his office. The door was shut tight. I remembered seeing Chloe go in just a few minutes earlier with coffee. Suddenly, I heard a woman’s sharp gasp from inside. Something wasn’t right. I gave the door a perfunctory knock. “Mr. Cole, I’m coming in.” “Wait—” His word was cut off as I pushed the door open. Inside, Chloe was kneeling at his feet, her hands on his thighs. The position was so compromising, it was impossible not to jump to conclusions. 【The side character spilled coffee on our man’s lap! I hope his family jewels weren’t scalded!】 【Aaaah, Ellie saw! Is she going to misunderstand?!】 【Ellie, punish him! Punish him hard!】 Liam’s face was flushed with anger. “Get out!” Chloe shot me a triumphant smirk. “Ellie, you really need to learn some manners. You can’t just barge in when the CEO doesn’t invite you. You should be more careful in the future.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Now, run along. Mr. Cole and I have things to discuss. You can—” “I was talking to you,” Liam bit out, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly cold register. I’d never heard him sound like that, not even when he was tearing into a subordinate. Chloe froze. “But, Mr. Cole…” “Get. The hell. Out.” He didn’t even look at her. Chloe stood, shot me a venomous glare, and stormed out of the office. “…What do you want?” he asked, his voice strained. I placed the file on his desk. “This is the document you wanted me to work on last night. It’s finished. For your review.” My eyes drifted down to the dark stain on his trousers. “Perhaps you should go change first, Mr. Cole?” The tension in his shoulders finally eased. He knew I hadn’t misunderstood. “Yes. You can go now,” he said. “Just leave the file here. I’ll look at it later.” “Of course.” I turned to leave. As he stood, glancing down at the coffee stain, he disappeared into his private lounge. 【Thank god Ellie didn’t get the wrong idea. That would have been so awkward.】 【Seriously, dude, you have a mouth, don’t you? Why didn’t you just explain?】 【He’s the classic cold, stoic type. He can only crush from afar in secret.】 【When are they finally going to hook up?! Is the ice ever going to break? This is killing me!】 I reached the door, then stopped. Slowly, I unclipped the fountain pen from my breast pocket. Gripping it tightly, I turned and walked back to his desk. I uncapped it, poised to write. Liam burst out of the lounge, his eyes wide and wild. The corners were startlingly red, his gaze almost wet with panic. “Ellie, what are you doing?!” I looked up. He had already taken off his shirt, revealing a torso of hard, defined muscle. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist—a perfect physique. But that wasn’t the most important part. The most important part was below his waist. His trousers were tented, forming a prominent, undeniable bulge. The size of it… My stare must have felt like a physical touch, because his entire body flushed a deep crimson. 【Damn, I think Ellie is about to have a nosebleed!】 【AAAAH, he’s so flustered! So flustered!】 【Oh my god, is it about to happen?!】 【Ellie, you’re still holding the pen! Do something!】 “Mr. Cole, I… I just remembered there was a spot on the file I needed to sign,” I stammered, my eyes still glued to him. He took a tiny, hesitant step forward. “Don’t… don’t use that pen. Find a ballpoint on my desk.” “Okay, Mr. Cole.” My voice was obedient, but my gaze didn’t waver. He squeezed his eyes shut in pure mortification. “I’m sorry you had to see this,” he whispered. “I’m not a pervert, I swear. I thought you had come back for something else…” Such a prude, baby. “I know you’re not a pervert,” I said, a new, wicked confidence blooming inside me. My eyes drifted back down to the tent in his pants. “The coffee must have been hot. Thermal expansion, right?” 【AAAAAH ELLIE, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?! How did you get like this?!】 【I’m going to faint. Ellie, you are so bad!】 【Is she flirting with him? Our girl is a pro!】 【I command you, right here, right now, get it on!】 【Is it just me, or did the tent just get bigger?】 “Mr. Cole,” I continued, my voice low. “If I hadn’t walked in just now… were you going to let Chloe help you change? Treat your… burn?” He shook his head frantically. “No. That was an accident. I told her to leave, she wouldn’t go…” I calmly walked right up to him until we were inches apart, staring directly into his panicked eyes. I held up the pen between us. “Don’t you think you’re a little overly concerned about this pen?” I asked softly. “Liam Cole. What exactly did you do?” He was so stunned by my shift in demeanor, so shocked that I had used his first name, that he couldn’t form a coherent thought. “I… I just wanted you to take good care of it…” “Really?” I pressed. His throat worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Yes. It was your bonus. I just wanted you to treasure it.” 【He’s so close, how is he not kissing her?】 【Aaaah, Ellie, if you take one more step you’ll be touching the tent!】 【So our sweet Ellie is a bad girl underneath it all. I love it.】 【Keep going, keep going! Do the deed!】 Suddenly, the office door flew open again. It was Chloe. “Mr. Cole, I brought you a change of—” She stopped short, her eyes widening. “What are you two doing?!” What was with her tone? Like a wife catching her husband cheating. I turned and gave her an epic eye-roll. “Get out,” Liam said, his voice flat and devoid of patience. “I’ll go, but she goes with me,” Chloe demanded, pointing a trembling finger at me. Liam’s brows knitted together. “You will leave by yourself. We have things to discuss.” “What could you possibly have to discuss?” she whined. “You two are…” “Don’t make me say it a second time. Get lost!” “…Fine.” Chloe reluctantly closed the door, her footsteps echoing her defeat. The moment the latch clicked, Liam grabbed my arm and pulled me into the lounge, locking the door behind us. My back hit the cool wood of the door as he pressed his warm, bare chest against me. There was nowhere to run. He enveloped my hand, the one holding the pen, with his own. His voice was a raw, ragged whisper next to my ear. “Do you like the pen I gave you?” I turned my head, dodging the kiss I knew was coming. “Mr. Cole, you…” “It’s empathically linked to me,” he confessed, all at once. My head whipped back around to face him. “…What?” He moved his hips, pressing the hard ridge of his erection against my stomach. “This pen. It’s linked to me. When you touch it… I feel everything.” 【??? The male lead just confessed?】 【Wait, this is my second read-through, and something feels off. The plot is moving way faster than I remember!】 【So the secret is out just like that?】 【Is Ellie going to think he’s a total creep? Is this about to become a forced-seduction plot?】 【Oh, this is getting more and more interesting.】 Seeing the genuine shock on my face, a flicker of satisfaction crossed his. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Help me. Please? It’s… thermal expansion. It’s not going down.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384967”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Another cold war with Noah. I was just about to type out a long, rambling apology text when a line of text scrolled across my vision, like a live-stream commentary only I could see: 【Here we go again. The male lead’s buddies egged him on to give the female lead the silent treatment. So dumb.】 【Watch him step out from under his friends’ umbrella only to realize it isn’t even raining. LMAO.】 【Keep it up. The second he actually breaks up with her, his ‘buddies’ will be lining up to take his place.】 【Hey, female lead, look at his best friend, the one who supposedly hates you. If you even smiled at him, he’d give you his life.】 I froze. Half-skeptical, half-intrigued, I typed out a different message instead. A picture of a cocktail with the caption: Happy single life to me. The next second, my Instagram story blew up with likes. 1 It happened again. Another fight with Noah. This time, he accused me of being too controlling. “What’s the big deal if I grab a drink with the guys? Why do you have to make everything into such a huge fucking deal?” Noah’s voice was frayed with annoyance. It was already 11:30 p.m. “You have a sensitive stomach, you can’t drink too much.” Clearly, Noah didn’t care. I could faintly hear the jeers from his friends in the background. “Dude, how old are you? Still getting called home by the warden.” “Just go, man. Don’t want to make the missus mad. We all know who wears the pants in your house, haha.” The mockery was a direct hit to Noah’s pride. Humiliated, he snapped and hung up on me. When I called back, he immediately declined it. I was about to try a third time when the text feed appeared again: 【LMAO, his bros talked him into fighting with her again.】 【He secretly loves it when she calls him home, but he’s too proud to admit it.】 【Bet he’s staring at his phone right now, waiting for that third call. His thumb is probably raw from refreshing.】 I stood there, stunned. Was this… about me? Was I the female lead? And Noah was the male lead? It sort of made sense. Noah was stubborn and emotionally constipated, always resorting to the silent treatment. But if I took the first step, made the first move to reconcile, he would usually accept it with a carefully constructed air of reluctance by the third try. The comments were urging me on, telling me to call again. But my attention was snagged by that first comment. Talked him into it? Noah’s friends. My lips thinned. A spark of anger lit in my chest, and I dialed another number. “Why do you always drag Noah out drinking? Don’t you know he has someone waiting for him at home?” There was a pause on the other end, then a cool, detached voice answered, “When did I take Noah out for a drink?” Ethan. Noah’s best friend since childhood. And the one who hated me the most. He never gave me the time of day, never had a kind word for me. My anger was boiling over, and I didn’t care about our past friction. “Who else would it be? You know he has stomach issues. What’s your game, dragging him to a bar every night?” There was a beat of silence, then Ethan let out a dry, almost amused laugh. “I just got home from a business trip. Haven’t been to any bar.” A photo notification popped up on my screen. It was a selfie from Ethan. He looked like he’d just showered, his expression lazy, a hint of abs visible below the towel slung around his neck. A new text followed. “And for the record, I have a personal curfew. I have to be home by ten.” His next message felt pointed. “I’m not like other people. If I had a girlfriend, I’d actually listen to her.” 2 “I’m sorry,” I texted back, then quickly turned off my phone, my face burning with embarrassment. The mix-up was so awkward that I completely forgot to call Noah a third time. When Noah came home the next day, his face was a thundercloud. I asked if he wanted breakfast. He ignored me, treating me like I was part of the furniture. The cold war lasted for a whole week, right up until a college reunion dinner. At the table, Noah and I sat at opposite ends. The couple that was usually inseparable now looked like strangers. Chloe, Noah’s childhood sweetheart, leaned intimately against his shoulder and giggled. “Noah, fighting with your girlfriend again? You’re a grown man, don’t be so petty with her.” Chloe. In the days before me, she had also been Noah’s on-again, off-again girlfriend. They had a messy history that spanned years before they finally settled into being “just friends.” We had fought about Chloe more times than I could count, but Noah always dismissed my concerns with an impatient wave. “We tried, it didn’t work. If we were meant to be, would you even be in the picture?” His friends would laugh and tell me I was overthinking it. “You’re the first girl Noah’s ever talked about marrying. For a player like him to settle down for you? That’s love, right there.” Watching them now, whispering and laughing together without a care in the world, I had to take a deep breath and tell myself it was just normal friendly interaction. When the food arrived, the main dish placed in front of me was a pineapple fried rice. Chloe gasped, as if she’d just remembered. “Oh, I completely forgot your girlfriend is allergic to pineapple! Noah, why didn’t you remind me?” She made a show of offering me her seafood risotto, her voice laced with reluctance. “The waiter said this was the last portion. Oh well… since your girlfriend loves it so much, she can have it.” Her words painted me as some kind of tyrant, snatching the last plate of food from a starving child. It was just risotto, for God’s sake. I was about to refuse when Noah cut me off. “You eat yours. She doesn’t need it. Who does she think she is, anyway?” A sudden hush fell over the table. Chloe tugged on Noah’s sleeve, her brow furrowed as she chided him softly. “What are you doing? Just let her have it. It’s no big deal, I can eat the pineapple rice.” Noah didn’t budge. His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. “What girlfriend? We’re not married. And even if we were, people get divorced. We’re just dating.” One of his friends chimed in, half-joking, “Whoa, what’s this? You thinking of breaking up, Noah?” Noah’s immediate reply was defensive. “No.” The friend smirked, his tone deceptively casual. “That’s what I thought. Ava has you on such a short leash, you have to report in every time you have a drink. You might give her the silent treatment to throw a little tantrum, but you’d never actually dare to break up with her.” The taunt hit its mark. Noah’s face flushed with anger. “Who says I wouldn’t? I’ll do it right now…” The words “break up” were on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped short, changing course mid-sentence. “But I’m not going to stoop to her level. Ava’s petty, but we’ve been together for a while. I’ll give her one last chance to apologize.” A flicker of disappointment crossed the friend’s eyes, but Noah didn’t see it. Chloe linked her arm through Noah’s, her voice playful. “Well, if you do break up, you can always date me again. Don’t let some outsider get the prize.” Noah’s lips curved into a smirk as he ruffled her hair. His gaze swept over to me, cold and dismissive. “Of course. Some people are just too much drama. You’ve always been the easy one.” 3 Everyone left. I was the only one left stranded on the curb. The restaurant was in a remote part of town. Getting a cab here had been easy; getting one back was proving to be a nightmare. Noah had refused to give me a ride and had actively stopped anyone else from offering. The text feed flickered back into existence. 【She’s so dumb. All she had to do was say something nice and he would’ve kicked the childhood sweetheart out of the car and driven her home himself.】 【He’s just stubborn, still pissed about the other night at the bar. If she had just called him that third time, he would’ve come home. He waited at the bar all night, fuming. It was her fault to begin with, why can’t she just suck it up and apologize?】 【He’s actually still driving around the area. He knows this place is sketchy and he’s worried something might happen to her. He does love her.】 【Oh my god, this protagonist is so annoying. Why can’t she just give in? Is saying sorry that hard?】 I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over Noah’s contact. I knew if I called, he’d probably turn the car around in a heartbeat. But my fingers wouldn’t move. I put the phone away. I couldn’t help it. I crouched down by the side of the road and started to cry. I didn’t understand what I had done so wrong. Noah was always like this, using the silent treatment again and again to force me to be the one to surrender. I used to think it was just his personality. But it wasn’t. I’d seen him, more than once, coaxing and soothing Chloe with a gentle voice when she was upset. He had patience and tenderness; he just never gave them to me. Every time he got angry, he would dangle the threat of a breakup over my head. He did it because he knew I would always be the one to back down. But this time, he was wrong. I walked for an hour before I finally found a cab. I was so exhausted I could barely stand. But I never made that call to Noah. 4 When I got back, I started packing. I moved my things out of our apartment. For the next three days, I didn’t send Noah a single text. Then, for the first time in a long while, he called me. “Hey. Wear something nice tonight. You’re coming with me to a gala.” His tone was as stiff as a board, but for Noah, this was the equivalent of extending an olive branch. But I refused. “I’m not going. Find someone else.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. “Find someone else?” Noah’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Everyone’s bringing their girlfriend. Who am I supposed to bring?” “Anyone,” I said. “Chloe, or whatever other girl is around.” “Ava, how many times do we have to go over this? We’re just friends. Are you seriously going to bring up old shit again? Is that all you know how to do?” “You’re the one who said you’d get back with her if we broke up. Do you need me to repeat your exact words back to you?” His breathing on the other end became heavy, ragged with fury. “Fine. Then we’re done. Let’s see who comes crawling back like a dog, begging for a second chance.” Noah was confident. Our friends didn’t know that we had broken up once before. He had never mentioned it, as if always leaving himself an escape route. For him, the words “let’s break up” were just code for: “I’m mad. You need to fix it. Once you’ve begged enough, we can get back together.” But one person can only be the first to apologize so many times. No matter how much love there is, it starts to feel like a burden. “Fine. Let’s break up,” I said. Maybe it was the night at the bar, or maybe it started long before that, but I was just tired. I finally understood that in Noah’s world, my concern was being controlling. My calls were an embarrassment. My love was a cage. If that’s how he saw it, then I would let him go. Here’s your freedom, Noah. 5 After Noah and I officially broke up, the text feed went wild. 【Wait, I haven’t checked in for a few days, how did they break up?】 【Ugh, it was definitely his toxic ‘friends’ again. They can’t stand to see anyone happy just because they’re single.】 【Watch him step out from under his friends’ umbrella only to realize it isn’t even raining. LMAO.】 【Keep it up. The second he actually breaks up with her, his ‘buddies’ will be lining up to take his place.】 【Come on, girl, get it together. If he can run around with his childhood sweetheart, you can find yourself a hot younger guy. Why should guys have all the fun?】 To say I wasn’t hurting would be a lie. A multi-year relationship doesn’t just vanish overnight. But I couldn’t let myself spiral. I had my own life to live. I didn’t believe a word the comments were saying about his friends. They had always treated me poorly, warning me in hushed tones that I wasn’t good enough for Noah, pressuring me to leave him. The worst was Ethan. He once cornered me against a wall, demanding to know what I saw in Noah. I thought he was just being an overprotective friend, so I said the most obnoxious thing I could think of. “His money. I have a thing for rich guys.” From that day on, Ethan started wearing a different luxury watch—sometimes multiple—on his wrist every day. I thought he was trying to mock me, so I sniped at him, calling him a peacock. I asked if his family had gone bankrupt and he’d been forced to become a watch model. He was so pissed that he showed up the next day with a bare wrist. But now, reading the comments, I hesitated. As a test, I posted a story on my Instagram: a simple text post on a black background. 【Officially single. Here’s to new beginnings.】 It was two in the morning. I didn’t think anyone would see it. The next second, my phone started vibrating nonstop. It was an avalanche of likes. The names were all familiar—people who had never once interacted with my posts before. It was Noah’s entire circle of friends. I refreshed my feed, and a new post popped up at the top. It had been posted one minute ago. It was from Ethan. Ethan: 24, 6’3″, grad degree, no childhood sweetheart baggage, 10 p.m. curfew, dislikes arguments and the silent treatment, a good listener. Currently single and available. I thought about the comment telling me to find a hot younger guy. I tapped on Ethan’s profile and sent a message. Me: 【Hi.】 He replied instantly. Ethan: 【Yes. I’ll post that we’re official right now.】 Me: 【?】 Me: 【But I wasn’t asking you out.】

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When I found out my wife’s family group chat didn’t include me, but did include our male neighbor, I told her I wanted a divorce. She was giving our daughter a bath at the time and just laughed. “Your daddy’s getting so sensitive in his old age,” she said to our little girl. “Wants to throw his family away over a group chat!” She thought I was just jealous. She had no idea I’d already bought a one-way ticket for a job overseas. For ten years, I’d been the perfect, selfless husband. I was more of a shadow in Chloe’s life than a person, my own needs and desires completely erased. But not anymore. I was done. Soon, it wouldn’t just be the family group chat that I wasn’t in. It would be the family itself. 1 “It’s just an old stock trading group, Mark,” Chloe explained, her voice tight with forced patience. “Noah added me to it ages ago. I knew you were busy with work and don’t care about stocks, so I didn’t mention it. I didn’t want to bother you.” Today was my mother-in-law’s birthday. I’d taken the afternoon off to cook her favorite meal, a whole spread of dishes that took me hours. But as the sun went down, no one came home. I called Chloe. She answered, already angry. “Mom sent a message to the family chat,” she snapped. “She said we were going out to eat. Even Noah saw it. How could you miss it?” I felt a familiar pang of guilt and self-blame. I opened my messaging app, refreshing it again and again. But the last message in our family group was from six months ago. It was from my mother-in-law, tearing into me for booking a cruise for my own parents. [Michael, you need to remember you’re a married man with a wife and child to support. Your money, even if your parents aren’t spending it, should be ours. You need to ask me, your father-in-law, and your sister-in-law if we need anything. And if we don’t, you should be saving it. Your parents have no right to your money anymore.] I closed the app, about to ask her where she’d sent the message, when I heard my daughter’s voice in the background. “Mommy, can Uncle Noah be my daddy for tonight? I don’t want Daddy here. He’ll just tell me I can’t have any cake.” The words I was about to say died in my throat. I looked at the family portrait on the living room wall. Last week, our daughter had proudly taped a picture of Noah right over my face. Suddenly, a profound weariness washed over me. For this family, for these people, I had only one thought left. “Forget it.” 2 Noah is our neighbor. He’s also one of Chloe’s most important clients. Before he moved in across the hall, I only knew his name from Chloe’s constant complaints. “This guy needs to get a life. He spends all day torturing us.” “He’s the king of passing the buck. He should have been a chef.” Back then, Noah was a monster in her stories. Then he moved in. He asked if he could carpool with Chloe to work. She was hesitant, but I encouraged her. He was a client, after all. I never thought twice about it. Until one night, we were at a party with friends. I mentioned the carpool situation, and Chloe, after a couple of glasses of wine, slammed her hand on the table and slurred, “You spend all day in the kitchen. You’re just a junior accountant in your thirties. What the hell do you know about a man like Noah?” “Chloe! How can you say that?” one of our friends fired back, indignant on my behalf. “If you hadn’t forced Michael to quit his job to be a stay-at-home dad, he’d probably be a vice president by now!” Chloe just scoffed. In that moment, I knew. There was someone else in her heart. She apologized profusely afterward, blaming it on the wine. My friends told me to let it go. “You and Chloe have been together forever. She loves you. You have a daughter. Are you really going to let some other guy walk in and take your family?” I turned off the shower, my friend’s words echoing in my head. As I reached for the bathroom door, I heard a low laugh from the bedroom. “I have to say, Michael’s a lucky guy,” a man’s voice said. “Beautiful, successful wife, adorable daughter. And all that free time… must be nice for a grown man to have so much time to let his mind wander.” “He’s even got time to worry about a lonely old bachelor like me.” The voice was crystal clear. It could only mean one thing. Noah was in my house. In my bedroom. Talking to my wife. I glanced at my phone. It was 11:30 PM. “Uncle Noah, can I come over and play video games tonight?” my daughter chirped. “I don’t like it when Daddy says mean things about you!” “No,” Chloe cut in sharply. “Uncle Noah has a big presentation tomorrow. He needs his rest. Do you want Uncle Noah to be tired, or do you want Daddy to be tired?” Disappointment coiled in my gut. I didn’t want to cry, but after hearing my daughter’s words, I couldn’t stop the tears. I wiped my eyes with a towel before quietly opening the door. Chloe was on our bed in a low-cut lace nightgown, reading our daughter a story. Noah was sitting across from them, smiling fondly. The three of them looked like a perfect, happy family. I was the intruder. When I stepped into the room, Noah jumped up, looking flustered. “Oh, Michael, sorry. I just came over to explain a few things, and Lily asked for a story, so I…” “Don’t worry about it,” I said, my voice flat. “I should be thanking you for the new sheets and pajamas. They look great on my wife.” Last week, Chloe had come home with a new bedding set. The gray and white pattern surprised me; she always preferred bright colors. She said it was a sample from a client, so I didn’t think much of it and gave it to my sister. When Chloe got home and found it missing, she flew into a rage. She made me drive to my sister’s house at 2 AM to get it back and put it on our bed right then and there. I didn’t understand why it was so important. Until now, seeing Noah standing there in matching gray and white pajamas. The smug, triumphant look in his eyes was unmistakable, though his voice was thick with fake sincerity. “Michael, you’ve got it all wrong. I just felt bad for always bumming rides, so I wanted to get you both a little something.” At the sight of Noah apologizing, Chloe and my daughter turned on me. “He’s my client, Michael! How am I supposed to work if you’re going to be like this?” “I hate Daddy! I want Uncle Noah!” my daughter shrieked. I looked at the two most important people in my life and gave a bitter, defeated shake of my head. “Chloe,” I said quietly, “let’s just forget it.” 4 I loved Chloe so much that for ten years, I never dared to say no to her. She knew it, and she used it. Whenever her mother was being particularly cruel, Chloe would just say, “Are you trying to start a fight with my mom? Do you not want to be married to me anymore?” and I would immediately back down, apologizing. I never threatened to leave. But tonight, I’d mentioned divorce twice. She must have sensed something was different. Her tone softened. “I know this all looks bad, but you’re really overthinking it. Let me just walk Noah home, and we can talk when I get back.” She and my daughter rushed out. Ten minutes later, I got a text. [Noah tripped on his way home. Lily and I are taking him to the hospital.] [Michael, don’t be mad. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back.] It was followed by a picture of a leg with a tiny scrape, the kind you’d get from a mosquito bite. As I was looking at the photo, a new message popped up in that other family chat, the one I wasn’t in, broadcast from my daughter’s GPS watch. It was my mother-in-law. [You two just stay there with Noah tonight. I’d like to see that pathetic loser Michael try to run this family.] Noah replied a moment later. [Thanks, Mom.] I put the watch down and started packing. My flight was in ten days. I needed to get my things to my parents’ house and file for divorce. We had almost no shared assets. Years ago, my mother-in-law, paranoid that I was after their money, had forced me to sign everything over to Chloe. Even the TV and the refrigerator were legally in her name. It meant that even though she was the one cheating, a divorce would leave me with nothing. I didn’t have much. By dawn, I had packed up my entire life into four suitcases. A decade of marriage, gone. It was pathetic. As I loaded the last box into my car, Chloe pulled up, carrying two large bags of takeout breakfast. She didn’t see me at first. She was on the phone, laughing. “Did I wake you? After how hard you worked last night, the least I could do was get you some breakfast.” “I’m not tired,” a man’s voice replied. “I’m your man, after all.” As she was about to enter our building, she looked up and saw me. The smile froze on her face. 5 Chloe and I met in college. We were broke. To save for a down payment on a house, I worked nights after my classes. She would wake up early to buy me breakfast, wait for me at the bus stop when I got off my shift, and tell me to go back to sleep. On New Year’s Eve, she lied to her mother, said she had to work, just so she could eat takeout with me in our tiny, rented room. All the things she was doing for Noah now. Seeing her do them for another man, my chest physically ached. “Michael, where are you going?” she asked, her voice tight with panic as she hung up the phone. She tried to cross the street to get to me, but the usually quiet road was suddenly filled with a steady stream of cars, a physical barrier between us. Her call came through a moment later. “I have to go on a business trip,” I said. Hearing that I wasn’t bringing up anything else, she let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, honey. I’m sorry about last night. I promise, when you get back, I’ll make it up to you. Lily and I will pick you up from the airport.” “Okay, Chloe. I’m going.” “Take care of yourself.” “Goodbye.” I hung up. She stood on the other side of the street, a flicker of unease on her face. If she had looked a little closer, if she had thought for just one second, she would have realized. Who takes a moving van on a business trip? But she didn’t. The panic passed, and she hurried back to Noah’s apartment. “Is Chloe insane? She spent years complaining about this guy, and now she’s sleeping with him?” “You can’t let this go, Mike! They’ve treated you like dirt for years! They control all the money, make you do all the work… they even had the damn floorboards notarized in her name! It’s ridiculous!” My two best friends were ready to go over there and start a war on my behalf, but I stopped them. I’d just received two text messages that changed everything. “It’s okay,” I told them. “A direct confrontation is too easy. I have a little surprise planned for them.” 6 Two hours after I left, Noah officially moved into my bedroom. My mother-in-law was thrilled, even helping him unpack. “Whoever marries Noah is the luckiest woman in the world,” she gushed. “He’s successful, and so generous! Not like some other useless people I know.” My daughter was just as excited. “From now on, Uncle Noah can be my daddy. He doesn’t nag, and he’s nicer to me.” Noah gave Chloe a suggestive look. “I’m not the marrying type,” he said smoothly. “But being here with you two… this is all I need. I’m happy.” Chloe and her mother exchanged delighted glances. The three of them sat down to a cheerful breakfast. For the next few days, my mother-in-law cooked all of Noah’s favorite dishes. In the ten years I was married to Chloe, she never once set foot in the kitchen. Even when I was sick with a fever, she made me get up and cook. At night, the woman who always claimed she was too tired to watch her own granddaughter now happily took her for the night. “You two have had a long day,” she’d say. “You need your rest.” I watched the steamy footage from the hidden cameras I’d set up and had to laugh. I remembered asking if Chloe and I could have just one night to ourselves. My mother-in-law had sent me a novel-length text about what a deadbeat father I was. It seemed everything in that house could change, just not for me. Three days went by. Chloe didn’t notice that all my clothes were gone, or that my side of the bathroom counter was now covered in Noah’s things. This morning, after getting ready, she sent me a text. [Honey, what time does your flight land today? I’ll come get you.] As she was about to close the app, she realized I hadn’t sent a single message since I’d left. A sense of unease crept in. Just then, our daughter ran in. “Mommy, I can’t find my watch! I haven’t seen it for days!” Chloe remembered that I was the one who charged Lily’s watch every night. “Did you wear it to Uncle Noah’s that night?” 7 Lily shook her head. “It’s been missing since then.” Something clicked in Chloe’s mind. She started frantically searching the closets, the shoe rack. But all she found were Noah’s things. Mine were gone. She was about to call me when her own phone rang. “Chloe, you need to get to the office right now. There’s a huge problem with the project!” As she hung up, Noah’s phone rang. “Get all the project files and financial records and be in the main conference room in thirty minutes.” Noah felt a twitch in his eye but didn’t think much of it. “See, Chloe? Your new assistant is useless. She must have messed something up. We have to fire her after this meeting.” Chloe, still preoccupied, just mumbled in agreement. When they walked into the conference room together, they found the bosses from both their companies waiting for them. The look on their faces was thunderous. Noah’s boss turned to Chloe’s young assistant. “Everyone’s here. You can present your findings now.” Chloe looked at the girl, whose eyes were red from crying. “Ashley? What’s going on?” The young woman didn’t say a word. She just clicked the mouse. The large screen at the front of the room lit up with a live feed from the camera in my bedroom. Noah’s voice filled the room. “So, Chloe… who’s better in bed? Me, or your husband? You keep me happy, and I’ll make sure you get the next few contracts.”

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When our R&D Director Marcus Vance publicly accused me—again—of trapping him as a “baby daddy,” I didn’t argue. I calmly rejected his purchase order, stating “department funds exhausted.” He stormed over. “The budget was just approved! Where’s the money, Reed?” I ignored him, approving an operations team order right in front of him while rejecting his again. Furious, he dragged our boss Henderson into it. “She’s sabotaging a million-dollar project! If she stays, I quit!” Amid the tension, I pulled out my resignation letter. Marcus grinned triumphantly. Then I handed Henderson a stack of R&D project quotes. His smile vanished. He went pale. … Maybe he thought my silent defiance was a direct challenge to his authority. Marcus snatched the documents from my hand and flung them into the air. Papers fluttered down around me like dead leaves. The office fell dead silent. Every eye was on me, a chorus of whispers rising from the cubicles. “Did your ex-husband take your brain with him when he left?” Marcus sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “You dare to reject my purchase order?” He leaned against my desk, a smug thug, tapping his index finger on the surface. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Let me ask you something,” he said, raising his voice so everyone could hear. “The new budget just came in, and you’re telling me it’s gone? I wonder if someone’s been using company funds to buy baby formula.” I didn’t react, didn’t even look at him. I calmly bent down to pick up the scattered papers, even the one he was stepping on. “The R&D department’s discretionary fund has, in fact, been depleted,” I said, my voice even. “I can’t process the payment. If it’s urgent, you can seek special approval from senior management.” My calm response seemed to throw him off. He shot a glare at the gawking colleagues around us, his tone shifting to a low threat. “It’s Jenna, right? I’m giving you one last chance. Think very carefully before you speak.” I slowly rose to my feet and offered a faint smile. “It’s Ms. Reed, Marcus. And you can give me a thousand chances. The answer will still be the same. No funds, no approval.” He clearly hadn’t expected me to push back so directly. His face contorted with fury, and he pointed a finger right at my nose. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re just a glorified shopper, and now you’re on a power trip!” he bellowed. “The company allocates a hundred thousand dollars to my department every month! It was just deposited ten minutes ago! And you’re telling me it’s gone? Do your damn job or get the hell out!” His voice escalated into a full-blown roar. My colleagues shrank in their seats, not daring to breathe. I remained silent through his tirade. I simply turned and accepted a new purchase order from the Admin department. Right there, in front of him, I submitted it for payment. Less than three minutes later, the confirmation receipt from Finance pinged in my inbox. That single action sent Marcus over the edge. “Jenna, what the hell is your problem?” he shrieked. “You just said there was no money! How can you approve Admin’s request but not mine?” He stepped closer, invading my personal space. “I work my ass off day and night for this company’s products! What are you? A nobody with a little bit of power, using it to screw me over. You better give me a damn good explanation, or I swear to God, you’ll regret this.” Seeing him about to explode, a few of his sycophantic underlings scurried over to play peacemaker. “Easy, Marcus. Don’t let her get to you,” one of them said with a sneer in my direction. “You know what they say—’mommy brain’ is a real thing. Don’t waste your energy on someone like that.” A few others, people I’d once considered friendly, chimed in. “Some people just can’t handle their own miserable lives. Divorced with a kid, so they think the whole world owes them.” “Seriously. Does she think she’s eighteen again, looking for a meal ticket?” “Yeah, well, her personal vendetta is going to screw us all. If this project gets delayed, I can’t even pay my rent…” I quietly organized the papers I’d picked up, my fingers tapping away on my calculator. Click, click, clack. When the final number was entered, I looked up at Marcus, my voice still perfectly level. “Marcus, the items on the Admin department’s order were all priced below market average. Furthermore, they were using their own unspent budget rolled over from last month. Per company policy, their request was eligible for immediate approval.” I held up his signed purchase order. “Your department’s request, on the other hand, is not only marked up by eighty percent, but your budget was already in the red from last month. Therefore,” I delivered the final blow, “all procurement requests from your department will be rejected. Not just for this month, but for the entire quarter.” The quiet hum of the office was suddenly replaced by the frantic clatter of keyboards as every single person who had been watching the drama pretended to be absorbed in their work. No one could believe it. Me—a divorced new mom with no connections, no seniority—had just openly defied the untouchable Director of R&D. Everyone knew Marcus was the boss’s golden boy. He answered to no one but Mr. Henderson and treated every other department like his personal fiefdom. He never imagined he’d be publicly humiliated by a junior employee in the middle of her lactation period—an employee whose name he could barely remember. He glared at me, his eyes filled with venom, before storming off. The door to his corner office slammed with a thunderous crack that echoed through the entire floor. Down below, my coworkers exchanged uneasy glances. A few colleagues who had also been bullied by Marcus in the past sent me private messages, urging me to apologize. Jobs are hard to find… You have a child to think about… Just smooth it over. Apologize? For what? It’s true that I got divorced while on maternity leave. It’s also true that I was transferred to the procurement department just two months ago when I returned to work. But from the moment I took over purchasing for R&D, I realized their books were a complete disaster. At first, they took advantage of my inexperience, sneaking everything from toilet paper for their department bathroom to personal snacks onto their purchase orders. I was the one who got chewed out for it. Then, they started using the excuse of “urgent project needs” to get me to pay for things out of my own pocket. It began with a friendly, manipulative tone. “Jenna, this project is critical, we’re just missing this one component. Could you please just front the money for it? I’ll sign off on the expense report next month, and you’ll get it back from the R&D budget. I promise.” I was soft-hearted. I believed him. I mean, why would a high-level director go out of his way to cheat a single mom with a new baby? But when I brought him the receipts for reimbursement, he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about. After that happened a few times, I saw him for who he really was. When his team tried to get me to front money again, I refused flat out. That’s when he started using my performance reviews to threaten me. “Jenna, raising a kid on your own must be tough financially,” he’d say with a fake smile. “Just keep up the good work, and I’ll put in a good word for you with Mr. Henderson. Promotion, raise, you name it. But if the project gets delayed… well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Pay for what needs to be paid for. You’ll get every penny back when the project funds come through.” He talked a good game, but he still owed me for a three-hundred-dollar consumable he’d promised to reimburse months ago. Just yesterday, when I approached him again about signing my expense form, he didn’t just yell at me in front of the entire office—he twisted the story and accused me of trying to seduce him. “You were the one who was so eager to pay for me, weren’t you?” he’d sneered. “I thought your intentions were suspicious from the start, but I let it slide for the sake of the project. But you? You’re always looking for a shortcut. If you put half the energy you spend chasing me over a few hundred bucks into your work, maybe you wouldn’t be a divorced mother right now.” I trembled with a rage so pure it felt like ice in my veins. I couldn’t believe a man in his position could be so shamelessly vile. To date, I had fronted over a thousand dollars for the R&D department, much of it on my credit card. Meanwhile, because he’d had me transferred, my salary had been cut in half when I returned from leave. I was struggling to support my parents and my baby. The formula was almost gone. My mortgage was three months overdue. If I didn’t get that money back, my family would be out on the street. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I spent all night digging through historical purchasing contracts, compiling a detailed list of every procurement Marcus had overseen. What I found was staggering. Underneath the veneer of legitimate contracts and invoices was a cesspool of massively inflated prices. Worse, many of the specified high-grade materials had been swapped out for cheap substitutes. I cross-referenced the purchase orders with the actual delivery inspection reports. The rot in this R&D project went far deeper than I could have ever imagined. Marcus thought I was just some clueless new mom he could walk all over. He even started a rumor that I was obsessed with him, that I was using the reimbursements as an excuse to harass him after he’d rejected my advances. That’s why this morning, he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for the money he owed me. He felt entitled. Arrogant. From his office, I could hear his booming voice, a mix of furious rant and whiny complaints to Mr. Henderson. Everyone was whispering, waiting for the show to begin. But I was waiting, too. Waiting for Marcus to push it too far. Waiting for him to play with fire and burn his whole world to the ground. His obsequious, ass-kissing voice drifted down from the office. Everyone knew how this would end. It was an open-and-shut case. Marcus would win, effortlessly. The atmosphere in the office began to shift. The colleague who used to eat lunch with me suddenly had to “work overtime” when I invited her, but I later saw her laughing with the new intern from R&D in the cafeteria. At lunchtime, I always ended up at the back of the line. Just as it was my turn, a group of R&D engineers would cut in front of me. “Must be nice to just clock out for lunch,” one would say loudly. “Unlike us workhorses who have to fight for every second.” “Leave her alone,” another would add with a smirk. “She’s got to breastfeed. If she doesn’t eat on time, the milk will dry up!” Then they would all look at my chest and erupt in loud, vulgar laughter. I’d clench my jaw and say nothing. By the time I finally got to the front, there was nothing left but scraps and watery soup. As soon as I sat down, the cleaning lady would come over and start aggressively wiping my table with a greasy rag, right next to my plate, huffing with disdain. This was just the beginning of Marcus’s campaign. When I returned to my desk, it was buried under a mountain of purchase requests, both urgent and trivial. The intern stood there, holding another thick pile of files, an arrogant look on her face. “Jenna, Marcus said he needs a full report on the supplier qualifications for all products purchased in the last three years. He needs it by the end of the day for a presentation tomorrow.” The whispers and snickers from the surrounding desks followed me. Day after day, the verbal abuse didn’t stop. My silence only seemed to encourage them. Within a week, I’d gone from “the divorced mom” to “the desperate office slut who throws herself at any man who looks her way.” They started openly commenting on my body. “How can she eat that much? Does she think she’s a sow for milking?” “You don’t get it. It’s an excuse to slack off. She goes to the pumping room, locks the door, and disappears for half the day. Who knows what she’s really doing in there?” “Look at those two sad, deflated sacks on her chest. No wonder her husband left her. It’s enough to make you sick.” It didn’t stop there. Trash—fruit peels and crumpled paper—started appearing on my desk. In the wide hallway, people would “accidentally” bump into me, hard. I was called into more and more pointless meetings about my work, with other departments making increasingly bizarre and impossible demands. My desk phone, with its dedicated extension, started ringing with obscene calls. “Fifty bucks an hour. You available?” Marcus thought he could break me, force me to quit. But I played deaf and dumb. The more he harassed me, the more flawlessly I did my job. And the calmer I remained, the more furious he became. Finally, after another week passed and he still hadn’t received my resignation, he snapped. Mr. Henderson returned from his business trip. Not five minutes later, Marcus was scurrying into his office, laptop in hand. The storm was about to break. Sure enough, half an hour later, Marcus emerged from the office like a preening rooster that had just won a cockfight. He announced an emergency, all-hands-on-deck meeting. I was at the front desk picking up a package of supplier invoices and missed the announcement. By the time I arrived, every single person in the conference room was staring at me. Before Mr. Henderson could even speak, Marcus launched his attack. “See, Mr. Henderson? It’s bad enough that she intentionally slows down all of our R&D work, but now she can’t even be bothered to show up to your meetings on time. The company’s generous policies for female employees? She’s exploiting every single one of them to slack off!” Mr. Henderson, fiddling with a string of wooden beads, frowned deeply. “Jenna Reed, is it?” His voice was low but heavy with anger. I didn’t answer. “Why is it that every simple purchase for the R&D department becomes a major drama the second it crosses your desk?” he demanded. “Our key projects are stalled because you can’t get them the materials they need. Our top engineers are threatening to quit because they aren’t getting their project bonuses! This market is a battlefield! Every day you delay is another day you’re handing an advantage to our competitors!” He slammed the string of beads onto the table. They scattered, clattering across the polished wood and onto the floor with a deafening rattle. “This company pays you for eight hours a day. Have I ever shorted any of you on your paychecks?” he roared. “Our frontline teams are bleeding to win us this market share, and you’re going to throw it all away because of some internal ‘procedure’ or ‘budget limit’? Are you all fresh out of grade school? Do I really need to spell this out?” He never said my name, but every word was a bullet aimed directly at me. Across the table, Marcus was on his knees, piously picking up the scattered beads, shooting me a look of pure, malicious triumph. I suddenly felt so tired. This company, so rotten from the inside that its leaders couldn’t see the truth. The “hard-working frontline engineers” he was defending had already hollowed it out like termites. And I, the one holding the line, was getting screamed at. Fine. I let out a long, quiet sigh and answered calmly. “Understood, Mr. Henderson. I know what to do now.” My compliance seemed to please him. His tone softened slightly. “It’s good for young people to be driven. You should learn from Marcus here. Be more tactful in how you handle things.” I nodded numbly and turned to leave. The long-running drama, a performance I had endured for weeks, was finally reaching its curtain call. But then, Marcus’s voice stopped me. “Wait! For the damage you’ve caused our team, I demand that you publicly apologize to us. Now.” “Apologize?” For a second, I thought I’d misheard. But then I saw Mr. Henderson give a subtle, permissive nod. The room erupted in a low buzz of whispers, contempt, and ridicule that washed over me like a tidal wave. The people who had bullied me, isolated me, insulted me, and spread disgusting rumors about me were now demanding an apology. From me. I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms, forcing myself to stay calm. Seeing my hesitation, Marcus put on a show of being deeply wounded. “Mr. Henderson, just because I didn’t want to be a father to her child, she sabotages my work. Is it too much to ask for an apology? I’m being magnanimous here, letting it go with just an apology, but look at her attitude!” He puffed out his chest, delivering the ultimatum. “I’m putting it all on the line. She apologizes right now, or either she walks, or I walk!” In the tense silence that followed, I stepped forward and placed the resignation letter I had prepared on the conference table. Marcus broke into a triumphant smirk. But when I immediately followed it with a thick stack of R&D project quotes for Mr. Henderson, the smirk vanished. His face went pale.

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My family decrees that the heir must wed a woman of beauty and strength. In my last life, I chose Isabelle Thorne—New York’s radiant darling. She promised me everything, yet five months into our engagement, she locked me in a dog cage, forcing me to watch her with Julian Reed. “You owe him this,” she spat. “His shattered leg, his dead parents—it’s your fault.” Within days, my sister jumped to her death, my father was imprisoned, and Isabelle took over my empire. I died on the ninth day, hearing her laugh as she handed my fortune to Julian. Reborn at the ceremony, I bypassed Isabelle and chose Seraphina Vance—the disfigured “madwoman” everyone feared. Later, it was Isabelle who knelt madly before that same cage, beating her head against the bars. 1 Before a lavish, long table, a dozen men in bespoke suits sat in stern silence. The elders of our Circle. My father, at the head of the table, gave me a warm, encouraging smile. “Asher, it’s time to choose. These uncles and family friends are all eager to see you settled.” On the table lay an array of ivory tokens, each engraved with the name of a daughter from a prominent family. Only one token, tucked away in a corner, looked as if it had never been touched, its ivory yellowed with neglect. My gaze fell upon it. Seraphina Vance. The name was a curse whispered in the gilded halls of the city’s elite. The madwoman. The pariah. Rumor had it she’d set the fire that killed her mother, a blaze that had left her scarred and her left leg permanently damaged. The Vance family hadn’t even sent a proper elder, just a distant cousin to represent her name in the selection. But I remembered. I remembered being trapped in that cage, the sycophantic smiles of these same men turning to cold amusement as they snapped photos of my humiliation. Only Seraphina, in the final moments before I died, had slipped through the guards. She had brought a clean handkerchief and gently wiped the blood and grime from my face. My hand shot out, my fingers closing around the faded token without a hint of hesitation. The room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. My father’s face paled. “Asher! You—” “I choose her,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet like steel. My father stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief, before collapsing back into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Fine! But if she ever dares to harm a single hair on your head…” He didn’t need to finish. Everyone in that room understood the weight of his unspoken threat. As I left the hall, I ran straight into Isabelle and Julian. Julian’s eyes were red-rimmed, his shoulders trembling as if he were bearing the weight of the world. “Asher,” he choked out, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I know you despise me, but my art studio… it was my life’s work. Why did you have to destroy it?” Isabelle’s gaze turned to ice. “Asher, did you have to be so cruel just to win my hand?” I gave them a dismissive glance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I tried to walk past, but she grabbed my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. “Apologize! And you will pay for every penny of damage! Otherwise, you can forget about me ever stepping foot in the Grey family mansion!” Julian quickly tugged at her arm. “Isabelle, don’t! Asher, it’s all my fault, all of it!” He looked at me, tears glistening in his eyes. “I’ll get on my knees. Just please, give me back my studio.” His performance only fueled Isabelle’s fury. “Apologize to Julian. His health is fragile—give him your private clinic. And twenty of the best nurses, a dedicated medical team, on call 24/7.” I ripped my arm from her grasp and let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Isabelle, are you delusional? You vastly overestimate your own importance.” “The token I chose… it wasn’t yours.” A flicker of something unreadable crossed Julian’s face. “What did you say?” Isabelle’s pupils contracted, then her lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Stop posturing. Are you really this jealous of the attention I give Julian?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I turned and walked away, a wave of relief washing over me. This time, I was free. Free from the madness of Isabelle Thorne. The next day, I went to my private art gallery, intending to select a painting as a welcoming gift for Seraphina. But when I pushed open the heavy oak doors, I froze. 2 The walls were a shrine to Julian Reed. Portraits of him in every conceivable pose: dashing and confident, brooding and melancholic, a lazy, seductive smile playing on his lips. Each canvas was meticulously framed, gleaming under the gallery lights. “Do you like them?” Isabelle’s voice was a soft caress as she stroked the painted cheek of one of the portraits. “From now on, for every birthday, I’ll give you the most special gift.” A faint blush colored the tips of Julian’s ears. “Isabelle, you’re too good to me. How can I ever repay you?” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. The kiss deepened, turning desperate and hungry. I rapped my knuckles sharply on the doorframe. They sprang apart, flustered. Isabelle frowned. “What are you doing here?” “My own gallery. Do I need to report to you to enter it?” A familiar tightness gripped my chest. It was here, in this very room, that I had once signed over the keys to my family’s empire to this venomous woman. A smirk played on her lips. “Why so hostile?” She let out a derisive scoff. “Asher, haven’t you been trailing after me like a lost puppy since we were children? What is this, some new game? Playing hard to get?” “Stop pretending,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “You love me so much. You could never truly let me go.” “Security!” My voice was ice. “Get this trash—the paintings and the people—out of my sight!” “Don’t! Isabelle gave these to me!” Julian lunged for my arm, but the moment his fingers brushed my sleeve, he theatrically threw himself backward, stumbling into a glass coffee table. Shards of glass sliced into his calf, and blood began to well up. “Asher!” Isabelle shrieked, shoving me with all her might. I staggered back, crashing into a metal easel. A warm liquid trickled down my cheek, but I felt no pain. Isabelle grabbed a can of paint thinner from a nearby cart and hurled its contents at me. “Asher! Are you insane?” She helped a whimpering Julian to his feet and stormed out. I knelt amidst the wreckage, a sudden, horrifying thought striking me. “My mother’s painting… Spring Serenity… where is it?” A trembling gallery assistant pointed to a corner. The painting, my mother’s last gift to me, was completely defiled by streaks of crimson paint. “Mom…” I whispered, clutching the ruined canvas. Tears mixed with the blood on my face, dripping onto the canvas. Whir… whir… The soft, rhythmic sound of a wheelchair approached. I looked up. A figure sat at the edge of the light, half in shadow. A silver mask gleamed coldly, but it couldn’t hide the slight tremble of her long lashes. It was Seraphina. “Don’t be sad,” she said, her gaze flickering from the gash on my forehead before quickly looking away. “Ointment.” She held out a small, pearlescent tube. Her fingers were long and elegant, but they curled inward as my eyes met hers. “It will scar otherwise.” I stared at the tube in my hand. Of course. The Vance family was a medical dynasty, their name synonymous with healing, their corporation holding a near-monopoly on the city’s pharmaceutical industry. As I took it, her fingertips brushed mine. She flinched as if burned and snatched her hand back. “I know you were forced to choose me,” she said, her voice a low, raspy whisper. Each word was spoken slowly, deliberately. “I will have the engagement annulled. You don’t have to put yourself through this.” The wheels of her chair squeaked as she turned to leave. “Wait!” I scrambled to my feet, blocking her path. Her entire body went rigid. She averted her face, her posture screaming panic. “I’m serious,” I said, looking directly at her, willing her to see the truth in my eyes. “It was always you I chose.” Her fingers gripped the armrests of her wheelchair so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her ears flushed a deep, beautiful crimson. After a long moment, she gave a tiny, almost inaudible nod. “Okay.” 3 Seraphina sent over a trove of medicinal herbs and restorative tonics. The cut on my forehead had already scabbed over. Each time I applied the soothing balm, the image of her crimson ears would flash in my mind, warming me from the inside out. One afternoon, I was heading into a high-end boutique on Fifth Avenue when Julian’s cloying voice drifted out. “Izzy, darling, I adore all of these suits!” As he spoke, he idly fiddled with a cufflink, though his eyes kept darting toward the most expensive items in the showroom. Isabelle’s tone was pure indulgence. “If you like them, take them all. Put it on Asher’s tab.” I stepped through the door with a cold smile. Seeing me, Isabelle showed no guilt, only lifting her chin in defiance. “You hurt Julian the other day. Consider this your apology.” Suddenly, Julian’s eyes landed on the trench coat I was wearing. They lit up. “Isabelle, that coat Asher has on… I want one too.” The store manager looked uncomfortable. “My apologies, sir, but that piece is a limited edition. Mr. Grey placed his reservation for it six months ago.” Julian’s face fell instantly. “Oh, never mind then…” he sighed. “Someone like me, from a simple background… I could never deserve something so fine.” As he spoke, he subconsciously rubbed his left calf, the very spot he’d “accidentally” injured at the gallery. Isabelle’s heart melted. She turned to me, her voice now a sharp command. “Asher, your closet is overflowing. Give him the coat.” I laughed. “And why should I?” “As compensation,” she hissed under her breath. “That push you gave him at the gallery? He was in pain for two weeks.” Before I could retort, Julian let out a pained gasp. Isabelle was at his side in an instant. “What is it? Is it hurting again?” “It’s nothing…” he said weakly, shaking his head, though beads of sweat were already forming on his brow. Isabelle’s eyes hardened into daggers. “Asher. Give him the coat.” I turned to my bodyguards at the door. “Please escort these two out.” But the two men, men my father had hired, merely hesitated. “Mr. Grey, sir, you’ll be marrying Miss Thorne soon. Perhaps it’s best to just listen to her…” Before I could process their betrayal, Isabelle gave a subtle nod. In a flash, the bodyguards seized my arms, twisting them behind my back and forcing me to my knees on the cold marble floor. “Strip it off him!” Isabelle’s voice rang out from above me. The store staff froze, horrified. Isabelle scoffed. “He’s been chasing me for years. Once we’re married, what’s his is mine. Now do it.” A trembling salesman stepped forward and undid the buttons of my coat. As the fabric was torn from my shoulders, my hands clenched into fists, my knuckles turning white. Isabelle draped the coat over Julian’s shoulders. “It looks much better on you, my dear,” she cooed. Julian bit his lip. “But… won’t Asher be angry?” Isabelle pulled out her phone and, aiming it at my disheveled form, snapped several photos. “Asher, if you dare cause Julian any more trouble, I’ll make sure the whole world sees you like this.” “Isabelle,” I ground out, my voice dangerously low. “You are truly disgusting.” The memories of my past life surged, her sneering face overlapping with the one before me now. One of the staff, unable to watch any longer, quietly handed me a spare jacket. I threw it on and stormed out of the store. When my father saw my state, he shattered his teacup against the wall in a blind rage. “That Thorne girl dares to treat you this way?! I’m going to their family right now and demand an explanation!” “Dad, calm down,” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow. “I have a way to handle them. But first, let’s deal with those traitors.” A week before the wedding, I went to the cemetery alone. “Mom, I won’t make the same mistake again.” My phone buzzed. An urgent notification from my bank. My private $50 million trust fund had been completely emptied. 4 I immediately called my assistant. “Sir, someone forged your signature and transferred the entire amount!” Twenty minutes later, I stormed into Julian Reed’s newly opened studio. “Isabelle!” My voice cut through the air, silencing the entire space. “Who gave you permission to touch my trust fund?” She turned around slowly, a picture of nonchalance. “Asher, you’ve bullied Julian time and again. Consider this money an apology.” She deliberately raised her voice for all to hear. “Besides, it’ll all be community property after we’re married. Don’t be so petty.” My chest heaved. The room began to spin. Just then, a familiar glint of green on Julian’s hand caught my eye. It was my mother’s emerald signet ring, her most cherished possession, which I kept locked away in a bank vault. I grabbed Julian’s wrist. “Take that ring off.” Julian’s eyes immediately welled with tears as he scrambled to hide behind Isabelle. Isabelle sighed in annoyance. “It’s just an old ring…” “I said, take it off!” I lunged for it. In the struggle, the ring slipped from his finger, clattering against the marble floor. A hairline fracture spiderwebbed across the emerald’s surface. Crack! The sharp sound of my hand striking his face echoed in the room. Julian clutched his cheek. Isabelle, incensed, shoved me back. “Have you lost your mind?” I lifted my head, my gaze cold and hard as I stared her down. She was so taken aback by the look in my eyes that she took an involuntary step back, her voice losing its edge. “It-it’s just a ring. Why are you so angry…?” I slowly knelt, my fingers trembling as I picked up the fractured pieces. Back in my car, the veins on the hand clutching the broken ring stood out like cords. I opened my phone. The internet had exploded. #HeirStrippedInPublic The article featured the photos from the boutique: me, clothes in disarray, while Julian stood beside Isabelle, wearing my coat. The caption read: “Some things, even when stolen, will never truly belong to you.” I shut my phone off. The same words, I thought, could be said for him. Stolen things never last. The online abuse was relentless, a flood of hateful comments that cut like knives. “Asher Grey is such a doormat, letting his fiancée walk all over him!” “Look at that pathetic loser. He deserves to be treated like dirt.” My voice was terrifyingly calm when I called my assistant. “Scrub those posts from the internet. And I want that money back, every last cent. No matter the cost, no matter the means. If the bank gives you any trouble, tell them to prepare for a lawsuit. And if anyone gets in our way…” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Remind them what happens when you cross the Grey family.” On the morning of the wedding, Isabelle called. “Asher…” Her voice was laced with the same old arrogance and certainty. “You terrified Julian the other day over that silly ring. His nerves are completely shot; the doctor says he needs absolute peace and quiet!” I stood before my closet mirror, adjusting my cufflinks. My reflection smirked back at me. “So you plaster my humiliation all over the internet to soothe your little lover’s feelings?” She scoffed. “Don’t forget, your father’s mining venture still depends on my family’s connections. Who else but me can pull those strings for you?” I slowly straightened my tie, my fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the mahogany dresser. “How about this,” she said, her tone that of a queen bestowing a great favor. “Transfer fifty percent of your shares to Julian. Think of it as a pre-wedding gift to me.” She let out a light laugh. “After all, once we’re married, what’s mine is yours.” In the background, I heard Julian call out “Isabelle” affectionately. Her voice instantly softened. “I’ll be right there!” “Just agree to my terms, and I promise, I’ll be at the altar on time.” I ended the call and blocked her number. Inside the grand ballroom, a collective gasp went through the crowd as Seraphina’s wheelchair was guided down the aisle. She wore a simple, elegant silver mask, but when her eyes met mine, they curved into a breathtaking smile. BANG! The main doors were thrown open. Isabelle stormed in, wearing a magnificent white wedding gown, a triumphant smile already on her lips. But when her gaze fell upon Seraphina beside me, her face contorted into a mask of pure fury. “Asher,” she hissed, her voice trembling, “what is the meaning of this?” “Seraphina Vance!” she shrieked suddenly. “What are you doing here?” It was the question on every guest’s mind. The reclusive Seraphina Vance never attended social functions. I took a step forward, placing myself protectively in front of Seraphina’s wheelchair. Isabelle’s face turned a shade of sickly green. “Asher, today is our wedding day. Why is she here?” Julian scurried up beside her. “Asher, even if Isabelle has been spending a bit more time with me lately, you didn’t have to hire a cripple just to make her jealous, did you?” I took a deep breath. “Isabelle—” “Enough!” She lunged forward and grabbed my arm. “I am your wife-to-be! How dare you play these childish games?” I violently shook her off. At that exact moment, the officiant’s voice boomed through the hall’s sound system, clear and resolute. “Distinguished guests, we welcome you to celebrate the union of Mr. Asher Grey and Miss Seraphina Vance.”

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All the children born to Arthur Croft’s girlfriends had something wrong with them. Only the daughter from his first marriage was perfect, and he adored her for it. The son I bore him—the sweet, challenged boy I loved—was thrown to his death by that same daughter. Then, she stabbed me, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “So what if you had a son? He was a defective. He was never going to be a Croft.” Now, I’m back. Reborn in a moment before the end, and this time, I’ve woken up with something new. A power I’ll call the Legacy System. The System allows me to conceive with ease. More than that, it lets me choose the sex and the intelligence of my children. This time, I will give Arthur Croft a litter of brilliant, perfect sons. 1 I returned to find my son’s body on the polished marble floor. Sophie, Arthur’s daughter, stood over him, a triumphant smirk on her face. “It’s what he deserved,” she said, her voice chillingly casual. “A defective thing like that has no place here.” I collapsed, gathering my little boy into my arms, the sheer force of my hatred a physical blow. The crack of my palm against her cheek echoed in the cavernous foyer. In the life that was stolen from me, this girl, Sophie, was the one who ended me with a knife. This time, I would settle that debt. She struggled against my grip, her arrogance melting into a child’s panicked tears. “Dad, help me! This psycho is attacking me!” Arthur appeared in seconds, his tailored suit unruffed, his expression unreadable. He saw our son, lifeless in my arms, and his face showed no flicker of pain. His first instinct was for her. “Are you all right, Sophie?” Arthur is my husband. He was always kind to me, in his own distant way. I was, after all, the only woman who had ever given him a son. The fact that the boy had developmental issues, that he could never inherit the Croft empire, was a constant, unspoken tragedy between us. “What’s going on? Who is bullying my granddaughter?” His mother, Mrs. Croft, swept into the room. Seeing me on the floor, she marched over, her hand raised to strike. I caught her wrist, my grip like iron. “She killed my son. Don’t I have the right to touch her?” In my last life, I was a doormat. I absorbed every slight from Sophie, every backhanded comment from her grandmother, and said nothing. Not again. “He’s dead, so he’s dead. He was a defective,” Mrs. Croft said, her voice utterly devoid of warmth. “Sophie was just… cleaning house. Culling a useless person from the Croft line.” I looked at Arthur. He remained silent. Sophie, emboldened, jutted out her chin. “Grandma’s right. Useless things should be disposed of. I’m the future heir to the Croft legacy. I have the right to make these decisions.” She turned her angelic, deceitful face to her father. “Dad, since this woman can’t give you a smart child either, why don’t you just get rid of her?” My heart seized. I couldn’t leave. The Crofts were titans in this city, their fortune woven into its very foundations. To be cast out was to be erased, to be left with nothing. “Arthur,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “I can give you a brilliant son.” His head snapped toward me, his eyes wide with disbelief. Even his mother paused, her cold fury replaced by a flicker of intense curiosity. Arthur had been with many women, fathered many children. All of them, save Sophie, were born with severe cognitive or physical disabilities. He’d had them all… taken care of. Quietly institutionalized and erased from the family record. He dreamed of a healthy son to carry on the family name, a tradition of male primogeniture that stretched back generations. His generation was the first to falter. But now, I had the Legacy System. Just moments ago, a voice had bloomed in my mind: [Host, you have been activated. If you use the Legacy System to bear Arthur Croft four children, your mission will be complete. You will be granted infinite wealth.] [Furthermore, you can use this system for vengeance. You may bear as many children as you desire, and you may determine their sex and level of intelligence at will.] I had agreed without a second’s hesitation. I would have my revenge, and I would complete my mission. 2. “Dad, don’t listen to her,” Sophie pleaded, rushing to his side. “How could she possibly guarantee a smart son? That’s not something you can just decide to do.” Arthur’s brief flicker of hope died. He looked at me, his expression hardening. “You already gave me a son with problems. That suggests any others would be the same.” He sighed, a gesture of finality. “But you were always the most obedient of my wives, and the only one to give me a boy at all. I’ll give you two million dollars. It’s time for you to leave.” He turned to walk away. I scrambled forward and wrapped my arms around his leg, looking up at him with every ounce of conviction I possessed. “Trust me one more time. I promise you, I can do this. If I fail, if the child isn’t perfect, you can throw me out then. It won’t be too late.” “You manipulative bitch,” Sophie spat, trying to kick me away. But Arthur stopped her. He looked down at me, his voice a low murmur. “You’re sure?” “I swear it.” My certainty caught his mother’s attention. A flame of desperate hope ignited in her eyes. “If you can actually do it,” she said slowly, “then I will finally accept you as my daughter-in-law.” Arthur was swayed. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll try.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and tightened my grip on my son’s cooling body. Don’t worry, my love, I thought. Mommy will make them all pay. Sophie threw a tantrum. “Dad, you can’t believe her! She’s lying to you!” “Sophie,” I whispered, my voice trembling with practiced vulnerability. “I know you’ve always been afraid a brother would challenge your position as heir. Don’t worry. I would never let him compete with you.” I saw a flash of pity in Arthur’s eyes. He bent down and pulled me into his arms, then looked coldly at his daughter. “That’s enough!” he snapped. “Whether she can do it or not is not for you to decide. We will find out soon enough. And if it is a boy, and if he is healthy… he will be the Croft heir.” The color drained from Sophie’s face. She opened her mouth to argue but choked on the words, silenced by her father’s authority. I hid a smirk against Arthur’s chest. You want the inheritance so badly, Sophie? I will make sure you never see a single dime. 3. My promise to produce an heir transformed my status overnight. Arthur’s demeanor toward me softened, and he even arranged a lavish funeral for our son. At the cemetery, Sophie glared at me, her eyes burning with a hatred so intense it was almost palpable. I ignored her, tightening my grip on Arthur’s arm. In my mind, I whispered to my lost child: Rest now, my sweet boy. Mommy’s work is just beginning. “Darling,” I said to Arthur as we walked back to the car. “Let’s start trying again. Tonight.” A slow smile spread across his face. “All right, Vivi. I’ll trust you this one time. If you can really give me a high-IQ son, I’ll give you the world.” “I will,” I promised. Later that day, I found Sophie waiting for me in the rose garden. Her expression was venomous. “Don’t get too comfortable. When you fail to produce a boy, my father will throw you out so fast your head will spin. And you will fail. After all, it’s his genes that are defective.” “If his genes are defective,” I said, stepping closer until we were inches apart, “then how are you so perfect?” Panic flared in her eyes. She stammered, “I… I misspoke.” In that instant, everything clicked into place. The cold, brutal truth of it settled in my gut. Of course. That was why all of Arthur’s other children had problems. His genetics were flawed. And if Sophie was perfectly healthy… it meant she wasn’t his daughter at all. I said nothing more and walked away, leaving her flustered and exposed. That night, Arthur and I were together. I asked him about the genetic issue, and he admitted he’d been undergoing treatments for years. He believed the problem was likely resolved by now. It didn’t matter to me. Even if his genes were still a mess, the System would correct for it. Afterward, as I lay in the dark, the System’s voice echoed in my mind: [Host, a fertilized egg has implanted. You may now select its sex and intelligence level.] Without hesitation, I gave my command. Boy. High intelligence. I had already lost one son. This next one, and all the ones to follow, would have the world at their feet. They would live the life their older brother never could. 4. A month later, the test was positive. I was pregnant. Arthur was ecstatic. He lifted me up and spun me around the living room, laughing with pure, unadulterated joy. “This is it, Vivi! I love you! The Croft heir is on his way!” “I hope it’s a boy,” he murmured against my hair. “Dad, aren’t you afraid she’ll just pop out another defective one?” Sophie’s voice cut through the moment like a shard of glass. She turned to her grandmother. “Grandma, you know Dad has genetic problems. That’s a fact. So this baby of hers is guaranteed to be a defective, too!” “But if Arthur’s genes are the problem,” I asked softly, “how did you turn out so perfectly normal?” I couldn’t believe she’d be foolish enough to fall into the same trap twice. The expressions on Arthur and his mother’s faces soured as the same realization dawned on them. The air grew thick with suspicion. Just as Arthur was about to speak, his ex-wife, Eleanor, swept into the room. “The doctors explained this years ago,” she said smoothly, coming to her daughter’s rescue. “They said that even with Arthur’s condition, there’s a small chance of a child being born without any issues. Sophie was just our miracle.” She shot a sharp, warning glance at Sophie. Sophie quickly caught on. “Right! Besides, I look just like Dad. How could I not be his daughter?” She rounded on me, her voice dripping with accusation. “I see what you’re doing, Vivian. You’re trying to drive a wedge between us!” “No, I’m not,” I whispered, shrinking back into Arthur’s arms. “Arthur, you believe me, don’t you? I would never.” I knew my husband’s weakness: he had a savior complex. He was drawn to fragile women. As expected, he tightened his hold on me, his protective instincts kicking in. He glared at Eleanor and Sophie. “That’s enough. I don’t want to hear another word about my genes in front of her. I have faith that Vivi’s baby will be perfectly healthy.” But later, in the privacy of our bedroom, his confidence wavered. I saw the worry etched on his face. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my voice a soothing balm. “Don’t worry, Arthur. This child is perfect. I have a friend who’s a doctor, a specialist with cutting-edge equipment. She already ran some preliminary tests for me.” His eyes lit up. “Really?” “Of course,” I lied smoothly. “It’s a healthy baby.” Relief washed over him. He pulled me close, kissing me again and again, his eyes wet with grateful tears. He cared so much about this child. I would use that devotion to control him completely. The Croft fortune, the Croft legacy—everything would belong to my sons. The next morning, Sophie brought me a glass of milk. She was smiling, a saccharine, unsettling expression. “Aunt Vivian, I’m so sorry for how I’ve been acting. Please accept this as an apology.” I looked at the milk. Does she really think I’m that stupid? I knew it was drugged. But I smiled back at her, thanked her, and drank every last drop. Minutes later, a searing pain ripped through my abdomen. Blood streamed down my thighs. I collapsed onto the floor, screaming for help. Sophie stood over me, spitting on the floor beside my head. “There goes your precious baby,” she sneered, her voice full of laughter. “Hahaha! Let’s see how you win my father’s favor now.”

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