Category: English

Part 1 My boyfriend, Leo, had been pulling crazy hours at work lately. I missed him, but I was also proud of how hard he was working. I’d just finished packing up some of the chili I’d made, planning to surprise him at the office, when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Leo. “I have a girlfriend. Please delete my number. Thanks.” For a second, I almost laughed. That idiot. Points for loyalty, I guess, but… why was he sending this to me? I typed a single question mark and hit send. A moment later, I saw it. The dreaded red exclamation point. “Message Not Delivered.” He’d blocked me. My boyfriend has a girlfriend, and it isn’t me. So… who the hell am I? My temper, which has the fuse of a firecracker, went off. I immediately dialed his number, my thumb jabbing the screen. Before I could even launch into my tirade, a syrupy sweet female voice answered. “Hello?” There was actually another woman with him. For a split second, my brain short-circuited. I couldn’t believe it. Leo was the type of guy who practically wore a sign that said “TAKEN.” He kept a professional distance from everyone, even his male colleagues. And now some woman was answering his phone? “Where’s Leo? Put him on,” I said, my voice cold and tight. A condescending little laugh came from the other end. “Oh, you’re looking for Leo? He’s a little… busy right now.” “Put. Him. On. The. Phone,” I repeated, practically shouting into the receiver. “Listen, honey,” she cooed, “a little self-respect goes a long way. Chasing after a man with a girlfriend is just… desperate, you know?” Then she giggled and hung up. If I was angry before, now I was furious. I grabbed my keys, stormed out of my apartment, and peeled out of the parking garage, heading straight for his downtown office. If this jerk thought he could cheat on me, he had another thing coming. He was about to find out what “consequences” really meant. It was just after 9 p.m. The city lights reflected off the sleek glass of the Hayes Tech tower. The entire building was dark except for the top floor—his floor. The lobby was empty aside from Frank, the night security guard, who looked up in surprise. “Ms. Miller! Here to pick up Mr. Hayes?” I didn’t answer, just strode past him and into the elevator, jabbing the button for the penthouse level. The ride up was eerily silent, but as the doors slid open on the top floor, I could hear the low murmur of voices. I stormed toward his office, the words of my accusation already forming on my lips, and burst through the door. And stopped dead. The room was full. His entire executive team was gathered around the conference table, looking at blueprints and charts. A dozen pairs of eyes swiveled to stare at me, their conversation cut short. My throat went dry. But even in my shock, my eyes scanned the room and landed on her. Tucked away in a corner chair, almost out of sight, was a woman who looked completely out of place. She was wearing one of Leo’s blazers, and a smug, knowing smile played on her lips as she looked at me. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” Leo asked, surprised. He jumped up from his seat and started toward me. He must have seen the thundercloud on my face, because his expression shifted from surprise to alarm, and he quickened his pace. But he was too late. The woman from the corner shot out of her chair, moving to intercept him. She physically planted herself between us. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice dripping with fake politeness. “We’re in a private meeting. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She smiled and gestured toward the door, a clear dismissal. I gave her a look that could freeze fire and ignored her completely. My eyes went past her, locking onto Leo. “Do I need to leave, Leo?” “Of course not,” he said, sidestepping her with a move so agile he could’ve been a ninja. He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. The hurt in his eyes was instant. “Chloe? What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and cautious. “Nothing. Finish your meeting,” I said, my tone flat. Leo glanced back at his team, then gently tried to guide me further into the office, toward the empty chair next to his. As we passed the woman, he didn’t even give her a second look. “Leo, who is this woman?” she interrupted, her voice sharp with indignation. “This is a confidential company meeting. It’s hardly appropriate for her to be here.” Leo finally stopped and frowned at her as if just noticing she existed. “Jessica? What are you still doing here?” Her smile faltered. “I… I was staying to help you with the meeting, Leo.” “Help me with what? My executive assistant isn’t even required to be here tonight. You’re her assistant. What are you doing in this room?” His tone was sharp, and it didn’t sound like an act. So, this woman had been sitting in his office for who knows how long, and he hadn’t even realized it? The other people in the room exchanged confused glances. “Leo, I…” Jessica’s eyes welled up, and her voice trembled. “This whole floor was empty except for your office. I was scared being out there alone, so… so I waited in here for you.” An assistant’s assistant. And she was calling him “Leo” and “waiting for him.” Yeah, something was definitely up. I crossed my arms and shot a pointed look at Leo. He seemed to feel the heat of my glare and stood up a little straighter. “Chloe, I swear, I have nothing to do with her. My dad made me give her a job here as a favor to an old neighbor.” Then he turned back to Jessica, his voice turning to ice. “Jessica, you said you had nothing to do after hours, so you offered to cover my assistant’s duties tonight. If you’re here to work, then go do your actual job. And stay out of places you don’t belong.” He waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for her to get out. Jessica looked stunned that he’d humiliate her in front of everyone. She stood frozen for a second before pointing a trembling finger at me. “Then what about her? She doesn’t belong here either! Why does she get to stay?” Leo gave her a dead-eyed stare. He didn’t bother explaining. He just said one word: “Out.” The color drained from Jessica’s face. She turned on her heel and fled the office. “I didn’t even notice she was in here during the meeting,” Leo explained quietly, pulling me into the seat beside him. I just nodded, telling him to get back to work. His team, to their credit, pretended like my dramatic entrance was a totally normal occurrence and resumed the meeting. An hour later, when everyone had finally packed up and left, I pulled out my phone and placed it on the desk in front of Leo, the screen showing our one-sided, blocked conversation. “Explain,” I said. My initial rage had cooled into a frosty calm, which was somehow worse. Leo’s eyes widened as he read the text. He put a hand on my shoulder, his expression deadly serious. “Chloe, just wait here. I will handle this.” He walked briskly out of the office. I was right behind him. I saw him spot Jessica by the elevators and stride over to her. He didn’t raise his voice. He just held out his hand. “Give me my phone back.” Part 2 Jessica flinched at his cold tone. She wobbled slightly, then slowly pulled his phone from her pocket, holding it out with both hands. Her eyes were wide and pitiful, trying for a wounded, doe-eyed look. Leo snatched the phone from her, immediately navigated to his blocked list, and his face turned a shade of thunderous purple I’d never seen before. I stepped closer to see what was wrong. Oh. My. God. It wasn’t just me. His blocked list was a who’s who of our social and professional circle—all female. I recognized the names of several CEOs and project managers from companies he partnered with. “What gives you the right to touch my phone?” he seethed, his voice dangerously low but loud enough to make the few remaining department heads poke their heads out of their offices. “I left it charging on my desk.” Jessica physically recoiled, her victim act going into overdrive. “Leo, I… I was just trying to help you.” “Help me? You were trying to help me go bankrupt,” he shot back, his hand shaking slightly as he scrolled through the list of blocked contacts. I knew how hard he’d fought to build his company from the ground up. Blocking the CEO of a major client wasn’t just rude; it could be catastrophic. Just as I was about to step in and try to calm him down, my own phone started buzzing. And it didn’t stop. One by one, texts came in from mutual friends and business acquaintances—the same women he’d just unblocked—asking me what the hell was going on and why Leo was suddenly blocking them. In the business world, even a polite “what’s going on?” is a serious accusation. I shot a venomous glare at Jessica, then turned back to Leo. “Fix this. Now,” I said through clenched teeth. I walked to the other side of the floor and started damage control, texting and calling people back. Thankfully, my family has a good reputation in the city, and people were willing to listen. Combined with Leo’s professional track record, his story of his phone being “compromised” was believable. It especially helped when I mentioned that the mystery person had blocked me, too. More than one person subtly warned me to watch my back with “that other woman” around Leo. By the time I had smoothed things over, my own anger had settled into a cold, hard knot. Even though Leo was on my side, this whole mess was a huge red flag that needed a serious explanation. I took a few deep breaths and walked back to the main area. This time, there were two police officers standing with Leo. Leo was talking to them, his face a mask of controlled fury, while Jessica stood nearby, trembling and looking at him in disbelief. “Leo, you… you called the cops on me?” she stammered. When he refused to even look at her, she turned to the officers, grabbing one by the arm. “Officers, we’re friends! It was just a prank! We have a great relationship, you can’t arrest me!” The cop gently removed her hand from his arm, his expression a mix of pity and exasperation. “Ma’am, it’s not a prank when you cause actual damages by misusing private property.” “We are not friends, and it wasn’t a joke. She’s a new employee,” Leo cut in, his voice like steel. “Frankly, officers, I’d like you to investigate this fully. I suspect she was deliberately trying to sabotage my company.” Hearing that, Jessica’s face went white as a sheet. She bit her lip, her eyes swimming with tears as she looked pleadingly at Leo. When he continued to ignore her and instead walked over to ask me how my calls went, she finally broke. “Leo, I just thought that you should be more careful!” she cried out. “You have a girlfriend now! You need to keep your distance from all these other women. I was just trying to help you!” The tears finally spilled over, a single, perfect droplet tracing a path down her cheek. It was a masterful performance—just enough to look tragic, not enough to look messy. Too bad for her, Leo wasn’t the audience. “What do my contacts have to do with you?” he snapped. “You started by blocking my girlfriend. You weren’t trying to help me keep my distance; you were trying to make me die alone. And this?” He pointed to a name on his phone. “This is Ms. Albright. She’s the same age as my mother. Does she also need you to ‘help’ me keep my distance?” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “I am your boss. You do what I tell you to do, and nothing else. Do you not have the most basic professional decency?” He then turned to the police. “Officers, my phone contains sensitive trade secrets. For a brand-new employee to steal it and use it to cause this much damage… I want her investigated thoroughly.” I just stood there, stunned. I had come here ready for a fight over a cheating boyfriend, and instead, I’d found… a delusional, self-sabotaging stalker. Part 3 I never thought Leo would actually call the cops. It was extreme, but it also erased any doubt I had about him and Jessica. This woman was a threat, and he was treating her like one. My presence, standing firmly by Leo’s side, seemed to be the final straw for her. She wrenched away from the officer and lunged toward us, pointing a finger in my face. “What about her? Why does she get to be in the office? If you have a girlfriend and have to cut me off, why are you protecting her?” “Are you insane?” Leo shot back, his patience gone. “Can you not tell she’s my girlfriend? Did you miss the ‘My Chloe ❤️’ contact name? Stop playing games.” Jessica shrank back behind the officers, finally looking truly scared. The police tried to de-escalate, asking if a private settlement was possible. Leo was resolute. “Absolutely not. She sent that message to my girlfriend. That’s a declaration of war. I’m not letting it go.” Because Leo refused to back down, the officers took Jessica into custody. As they were leading her away, she made one last pathetic attempt. She clutched the blazer she was still wearing and looked at Leo with pleading eyes. “Leo, I’m cold. Can I please borrow this jacket?” Leo glanced at the jacket. “It’s not mine.” Just then, his head of design, who had been shamelessly watching the drama unfold from his doorway, popped out. “That’s mine! It’s from AllSaints! I must have left it on the chair next to Leo’s. You can give it back now, I’m cold too.” Jessica’s face contorted with rage. She ripped the jacket off and threw it at the designer, then shot one last, hate-filled glare in my direction before being escorted away. I almost had to laugh. A wannabe homewrecker tried to take me on and ended up getting herself arrested. What a night. Later, Leo explained everything. Jessica was the daughter of some old neighbors who had moved out of state a decade ago. They had recently moved back and reconnected with his parents. When they heard Jessica was looking for a job, his dad pressured Leo into giving her a position. He’d barely remembered who she was. And on her very first day, she pulled this stunt. Part 4 “So, she’s some kind of long-lost childhood sweetheart?” I asked, rolling my eyes. Leo made a gagging noise. “God, no. Don’t even say that. She was the absolute worst. Every time she got into trouble as a kid, she’d play innocent and find a way to blame me, then finish it off with a tearful ‘it’s all my fault.’” He shuddered dramatically. “Seriously, I never wanted to see her again. I only hired her because my dad wouldn’t let it go.” As it turned out, Jessica didn’t face any real charges. She cried to Leo’s dad, who then yelled at Leo until he agreed to drop it and settle things privately. She was out of the precinct by the next night. I figured after a move that drastic—and that stupid—she’d finally get the hint and disappear. I was wrong. A few days later, I got an Instagram follow request from her. The app said she was a “suggested contact from Leo’s phone,” which was a nice little twist of the knife. I accepted out of sheer morbid curiosity. She immediately sent me a photo. It was a picture taken at a fancy restaurant, across a large, round table filled with people. I recognized Leo’s parents, and Leo himself. He was sitting next to the person taking the photo, smiling as he placed a piece of food into their bowl. He looked relaxed, caring, intimate. The photo was followed by a message: “Chloe, you don’t really think Leo loves you, do you? He’s always been in love with me. Tonight, our families are meeting to officially discuss our wedding plans.” After what happened last time, I wasn’t falling for it. If I hadn’t gone to his office that night, and if he hadn’t called the cops, that first text would have become a seed of doubt between us. I wasn’t letting that happen again. I didn’t feel the same rage as before. I just calmly dialed Leo’s number. It rang for a while before he picked up, the background noise suddenly muffled as if he’d stepped outside. “Chloe! Hey, what’s up?” He sounded happy, cheerful even. “Where are you?” He paused. We trusted each other, so I rarely asked him questions like that. “I’m at The Hawthorne Grill with my parents.” “Is Jessica there?” “Yeah, our families are having dinner together,” he said, completely matter-of-fact. Not a hint of guilt in his voice. I was silent for a moment. “Check your Instagram DMs,” I said, then sent him a screenshot of the photo and her message. “Is she sick in the head?” he exploded. “She wasn’t even sitting next to me! My niece was sitting next to me!” He sounded furious. A second later, he hung up, telling me to wait. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a screenshot he’d sent me. It was from his niece’s Instagram story—the same photo, but uncropped, clearly showing the little girl sitting next to him, beaming as he gave her a shrimp. “Chloe, you should come over here,” he texted. “We need to end this once and for all. This woman is a psycho.” “Are you sure? It’s a family dinner. I don’t want to intrude.” “Intrude? My parents love you! And if we don’t shut this down face-to-face, she’ll keep pulling this crap and try to ruin us.” He was panicking now. “Yes. You have to come. I’m sending a car for you right now.” Part 5 He was right. This needed to be settled. I changed into a sharp but elegant dress and headed out. The Hawthorne Grill wasn’t far, and twenty minutes later I was there. Leo was waiting for me at the entrance, still looking furious. I walked up and put a calming hand on his arm. He looked at me, his expression softening into pure relief mixed with desperation. “I’m so glad you called me,” he said. “What if you had been like one of those women in those crazy Reddit stories you made me read, and you just believed her and disappeared?” I had to suppress a smile. That was my fault. When we first started dating, I was worried he was too nice to spot a manipulator, so I’d made him read a ton of posts from the “Am I The Asshole?” subreddit. It seemed the main takeaway he got wasn’t how to spot a master manipulator, but a deep-seated fear that if he ever upset me, I’d just ghost him. He pulled me into a hug, then led me toward their private dining room. When we walked in, the room was buzzing with cheerful conversation. The moment Leo’s parents saw me, their faces lit up. His mom immediately called a waiter over to add another chair. “Chloe, honey! Come, sit right here next to me,” she said, patting the new seat she’d placed between herself and Leo. Across the table, I could see Leo’s little niece sitting exactly where he said she’d be. And next to her… was Jessica. When she saw me, her jaw dropped, and her face turned pale. “Leo, who is this?” a woman next to Jessica—who I assumed was her mother—asked, her voice dripping with disdain. “Why are you bringing outsiders to a private family gathering?” Leo’s mother’s smile tightened instantly. She patted my hand reassuringly before beaming at Jessica’s mom. “Oh, she’s no outsider,” she said sweetly. “This is my future daughter-in-law, Chloe Miller.” “Oh, so this is Leo’s little girlfriend,” the woman sneered, forcing a laugh. “You’ve certainly got him on a tight leash, dear. He can’t even have dinner with his parents without you showing up to check on him.” In one sentence, she painted me as some kind of controlling, psycho girlfriend. Normally, I’d show respect to an elder, but some people don’t deserve it. Leo had given me a clear green light on the way in: “If they give you any trouble, you let them have it. Don’t you dare hold back.” So I smiled, a bright, dazzling smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. I even gave Jessica a playful little brow-raise. “Oh, you must have me mistaken, ma’am,” I said, my voice as sweet as sugar. “It was your daughter who insisted I come. She sent me a lovely message saying you were all here tonight to discuss her and Leo’s wedding plans. I couldn’t let my boyfriend get taken advantage of, could I? I just had to come see for myself.” The table fell silent. Leo’s parents turned to look at Jessica, their expressions a mixture of shock and confusion. “What wedding plans?” his father asked, his voice dangerously low.

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1 My husband died at sea, saving his one true love. By the time they notified me, the fish had already had their fill. The officer on the line asked if I still wanted them to search for the body. I waved it off dismissively. No need to waste public resources. With the official death certificate in hand, I had my husband, Jerry, legally erased from existence. Then I called his lawyer. It was only after hanging up that I finally let myself laugh. I popped a bottle of champagne that night. The inheritance I was supposed to split was now two-thirds mine. That was definitely worth a celebration. … My husband, Jerry, was dead. He’d taken his old flame, Abby, out for a spin on his yacht. A freak wave slammed them into the rocks. He gave her the only life jacket, and the ocean took him instead. When the Coast Guard called, they told me a shark had taken his head. His headless torso had been floating on the surface. A few fishermen were about to haul it in when another shark appeared, clamped down on the body, and dragged it back into the deep. All they recovered were his wallet and his waterlogged phone. As one of the city’s most prominent entrepreneurs, everyone expected a grand search for Jerry’s remains. The police asked if I wanted to call in a specialized recovery team. “No,” I said, my voice firm. “Let’s not waste public resources.” An hour later, I was at the county records office with the death certificate. The clerk teared up when she saw his ID. “Mr. Hayes was such a good man. My condolences, Mrs. Hayes.” I had to bite back a smile. She wasn’t wrong. Jerry was a very good man. He was scheduled to sign our divorce papers in two days, right before signing a marriage license with Abby. Instead, he died, leaving me with a mountain of assets. With no body to bury, I had to improvise for the cremation. I gathered all the useless paperwork from his corporate office, threw in his personal effects, and set it all ablaze. After it cooled, I scooped the ashes into a plastic bag, making a mental note to buy a proper urn tomorrow. I met with the lawyer to liquidate Jerry’s estate. Six companies, eight luxury cars, sixty-six commercial properties, and eighty-eight residential units, not to mention the gold bars in his bank vault and a sprawling portfolio of stocks and bonds. I was busy counting the zeroes when the lawyer cleared his throat. “Mrs. Hayes, it appears your husband had already transferred the titles of two properties to a Ms. Abby Chen before his passing.” What? I would not allow anyone to ruin my lucky numbers. I turned to the lawyer, my voice turning to ice. “Anything he gave her… I can get it back, right?” He was a million-dollar-a-year lawyer for a reason. He understood immediately. That same day, data recovery specialists worked their magic on Jerry’s ruined phone. By the afternoon, a courier was delivering a legal notice to Abby’s doorstep. She stormed into my house just as I was pouring a glass of champagne. She snatched the glass and lunged, aiming to douse me. “Maya! What the hell is the meaning of this letter?” I sidestepped neatly, and the champagne splashed harmlessly onto the floor. “My handmade Italian rug,” I mourned, looking at Abby with mock pain. “Don’t worry, I’ll add it to your bill.” “Who do you think you are, demanding these things from me? Jerry gave them to me! We were about to get married! They’re mine!” “Ms. Chen, are you unfamiliar with the law?” I scoffed. “Gifts given during our marriage are considered marital assets. I have every right to demand their return.” Her face went pale. She fumbled for her phone. “You didn’t discuss this with Jerry, did you? I’m calling him right now. Just you wait, he’s going to tear you apart.” At that, a real laugh escaped me. “Don’t bother. The reception is terrible from inside a shark’s stomach.” Her eyebrows twisted in fury. “You are a vile, poisonous woman, Maya! You were married to him! How can you say something so horrible?” I let her finish her tirade before calmly pulling Jerry’s ID from my purse—cut cleanly in two. “Still don’t believe me? Here’s his ID. I just had it invalidated this morning.” Abby stared at the two halves, her disbelief warring with a creeping dread. “This is just another one of your tricks. I’m calling him, and you won’t see a single penny of his money!” She frantically dialed his number. A moment later, a phone started ringing from inside my handbag. I pulled out Jerry’s phone. The screen was lit up with a single word: ‘Wifey.’ The color drained from Abby’s face. “Why do you have his phone?” “I told you. He’s dead.” “Then where’s the body?” “Shark food,” I said with a shrug. “Ms. Chen, have you forgotten? You two were on that yacht together. How is it that you’re the only one who came back?” “I thought… I thought…” Abby’s legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor. Her body started to tremble, her eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks like perfect, glistening pearls. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, tears are just as bad for the rug. After a few minutes of sobbing, she shot to her feet and made a beeline for the marble pillar in the living room. “Jerry, I’m coming with you!” I jumped back, startled, and quickly dialed my phone. “911? Yes, there’s a woman attempting suicide in my home.” The police arrived quickly. After getting the story, they escorted a hysterical Abby out. As they left, I couldn’t help but call after her. “Remember to return my property, or I’m suing!” One of the officers shot me a look that clearly said, The woman is having a breakdown, and you’re still harassing her? I just shrugged. We were talking about millions of dollars. Who wouldn’t be a little stressed? A few days later, I started planning Jerry’s funeral. He had so many wealthy relatives, and I’d spent years giving them generous wedding gifts and condolence money. Now, it was time to reap my harvest. I sent out notifications to Jerry’s sprawling family tree and hired an ‘expert’ from the cemetery to help me pick a plot. He showed me all the prime locations with good “energy,” but I wasn’t interested. My eyes were drawn to a barren patch on the edge of the grounds, where nothing grew. “Absolutely not,” the expert said. “If he’s buried there, his descendants will lead lives of hardship.” I clapped my hands together. “Perfect! It’s got great feng shui and it’s cheap. We’ll take it.” Jerry and I never had children, so there were no descendants to worry about. With the plot and a new urn secured, I hired a top-tier funeral service to give Jerry a send-off worthy of his status. During the service, I dabbed at my dry eyes with a tissue while discreetly eyeing the growing pile of condolence envelopes. Rich people, god love them. The envelopes were getting fatter and fatter, and it took all my willpower not to grin. Just as the funeral was winding down, Abby appeared. She was dressed in black, holding the hand of a small boy, maybe seven or eight years old. She walked directly to the front, facing Jerry’s portrait. The already quiet room fell into a stunned silence. Every eye was on her. “Leo,” Abby’s voice was frail, “kneel. This is your father.” As the boy started to bend his knees, I rushed forward and gently pulled him back up. “Careful, little guy. You can’t just go around calling any man ‘Dad.’” Abby’s eyes flashed with anger. “He’s my son with Jerry!” “Oh,” I said, my gaze dropping. “Is he now? That’s what you say. But who can prove it?” “We can.” Two figures appeared in the doorway. It was my mother- and father-in-law, whom I hadn’t seen in years. “You venomous bitch!” my mother-in-law shrieked the moment she saw me, lunging forward. “My son is dead, and you notify everyone but his own parents? What are you plotting?” I wasn’t about to let her claw my face off. I took a step back, and with a flick of my wrist, my hired bodyguards intercepted her. From a safe distance, I said, “Mother, wasn’t it you who told me never to contact you again unless I was dead?” She seemed to have forgotten the day she threw me out of her house with those exact words. “You evil woman! You must have killed him! You’d do anything for his money, you shameless whore! You’ll rot in hell for this!” She continued to struggle, desperate to get her hands on me, but my security was earning their pay, holding her tight. “Mother, surely you know how Jerry died? He was with Chl—” “Leo, come here! Say hello to Grandma and Grandpa!” Abby interrupted, pulling the boy toward them. My mother-in-law instantly softened, crouching down to caress the boy’s face. “So this is our grandson. He looks exactly like Jerry did as a boy.” She looked up at Abby, her voice thick with emotion. “Abby, you poor dear. It must have been so difficult, raising him all by yourself for all these years.” The whole reunion scene was making me sick. “Mother,” I said, my voice dripping with false concern. “You can’t just believe everything she says. We don’t even know who this child’s father is.” Abby bristled. “Are you suggesting Leo isn’t Jerry’s son? I’m telling you, he is! I was already pregnant when we broke up. I’ve been raising our son on my own ever since.” My mother-in-law chimed in, “Anyone can see this boy has Hayes blood! You, on the other hand, you barren woman! You can’t even have a child of your own, so you attack those who can.” Emboldened by her new ally, Abby’s confidence surged. She launched into a tearful monologue about the struggles of being a single mother and the discrimination she faced. “Is that so?” I cut through her performance without mercy. “Funny, I heard you were married to someone else overseas. And that he left you because you cheated on him.” “You’re lying!” Abby sobbed, turning back to my mother-in-law. “I can endure the insults, but it’s Leo… a boy needs his father!” My mother-in-law, completely won over, rounded on me. “You useless, barren woman, Maya! You’ve never been a mother, you wouldn’t understand! I understand Abby’s pain perfectly!” I spoke softly, my voice carrying through the silent room. “Mother, even if this child really is Jerry’s, you’d need proof, wouldn’t you? Otherwise, anyone could walk in here with a child, claim it’s your grandson, and you’d just accept it?” “I have proof,” Abby declared, her back straightening. “Jerry didn’t believe Leo was his at first, either. So we did a paternity test. The report is still in the drawer of his office desk. Go see for yourself, Mother. Then you’ll know.” Well, well. Things were escalating quickly. It wasn’t just me; you could see the fascinated, hungry expressions on the faces of every guest. This funeral was turning into quite the spectacle. Hearing this, my mother-in-law immediately ordered someone to go to Jerry’s office and retrieve the report. I tried to intervene again. “Mother, can’t we deal with this after the funeral? It’s not a good look, making a scene in front of all these people.” She snorted. “What’s the matter, Maya? Afraid that if the test proves he’s Jerry’s son, he’ll get a piece of the inheritance? Let me tell you something, you need to be more generous. If I were in your shoes, I would welcome Leo with open arms.” There was no stopping her. After Abby gave specific instructions on where to find the document, one of the family assistants rushed off to Jerry’s company headquarters. I took the opportunity to make a quick phone call myself. He returned in less than half an hour.

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The day after my mom’s “I’m not getting any younger, you know” ultimatum, I dumped my boyfriend of five years and, resume in hand, crashed a local speed-dating event. My best friend, Maya, was baffled. “I don’t get it. You always said Ethan was your rock, the one person who kept you sane. Why wouldn’t you marry him?” I scanned the profile sheet of a potential match, not even looking up. “His ‘rock’ stability is a free trial that expired for me years ago. I’m a long-term subscriber, which apparently just makes me old news.” A second later, Ethan stormed into the noisy brewery, his jaw tight. “I told you I just think of her as a little sister,” he hissed. “You’re really going to break up with me over this?” 1 I ignored him, reaching for the profile sheet in his hand. It was the only promising one I’d found after two hours of painfully awkward five-minute conversations. Leo, 32, University Professor. Hobbies: hiking, classic films. Family: stable, loving. And the most important detail: an only child. No needy “little sister” in sight. Ethan lifted the paper just out of my reach. The silver cufflinks on his wrist glinted under the lights—the ones I’d given him for his birthday last year. “Anna, stop making a scene.” His voice was low, strained with barely controlled anger. I laughed, gesturing at the sign by the door. “Ethan, this is a speed-dating event. The whole point is first impressions and efficiency. You’re currently blocking my romantic prospects.” His knuckles turned white as he crumpled the thin sheet of paper. “You’d throw away five years for some guy you don’t even know?” “It’s not for some guy. It’s for me.” My smile faded. I looked at him calmly. “Ethan, I’m done getting calls from you at 3 AM because Chloe got creeped on at a bar and needs you to be her knight in shining armor.” “I’m done sitting alone in a restaurant on our anniversary because you had to rush off to comfort Chloe after her latest breakup.” “And I am so, so done hearing you say, ‘She’s just like a sister to me, Anna. She’s fragile. She only has me.’” The color drained from Ethan’s face. He opened his mouth, his throat working, but no words came out. A few of the older folks organizing the event were already starting to whisper, glancing at us over their clipboards. “He’s such a handsome young man. What more could she want?” “Girls these days, their standards are impossible.” Ethan’s hands clenched into fists. He hated losing face, hated looking anything less than perfectly in control. I wanted him to feel, just for a moment, what it was like to be publicly dismissed. “Anna, let’s talk about this at home.” He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. I didn’t fight him. I just looked past his shoulder. A girl in a white sundress was hurrying toward us, her eyes red and puffy, fresh tear tracks on her cheeks. “Ethan, don’t be mad at Anna-Marie,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have called you again.” Chloe had arrived. Ethan’s “stability” switch flipped instantly. He dropped my wrist and turned to steady her. “What’s wrong? I told you to wait for me at home.” “I was worried you and Anna-Marie would fight.” Chloe looked down, her voice choked with tears. “It’s all because of me.” As she spoke, she shot a quick glance at me from under her eyelashes. There was no apology in it. Only triumph. I crossed my arms, a spectator at the five-star drama of sibling-like devotion. As expected, Ethan didn’t disappoint. He patted Chloe’s back gently, his voice softer than I’d heard it in five years. “It’s not your fault. This is between her and me.” He didn’t even look back at me. He just turned and led Chloe away. The profile sheet belonging to the “normal” man was now a crumpled ball, tossed into a nearby trash can. Just like our five years together. 2 Maya’s call came while I was supervising a locksmith. “You’re really changing them? Aren’t you afraid Ethan’s going to lose his mind when he gets back?” “He has a home. He has a sister who needs her emotional support human. Why would he come back here?” I told the locksmith, “The keypad, the deadbolt, everything. I don’t want a single fly getting in here that I don’t personally invite.” Maya was quiet for a moment. “Anna, are you sure about this? It’s been five years…” I watched the locksmith drill out the old cylinder, a sense of calm settling over me. Five years? What finally broke me wasn’t the length of our relationship. It was a single night two weeks ago, when my temperature hit 102. I’d gotten food poisoning from some bad takeout. I was a wreck, completely dehydrated and weak. The number on the thermometer kept climbing, and I felt like my brain was melting. Shivering, I called Ethan, my voice trembling. “Eth, I feel awful. I have a really high fever. Can you please take me to the ER?” He was quick to agree. “Of course. Don’t worry, I’m on my way. Leave the door unlocked for me.” I used my last bit of energy to drag myself to the sofa to wait. Just as I was about to pass out, my phone rang again. It was Ethan. Thinking he was downstairs, I answered, a wave of relief washing over me. But his voice on the other end was apologetic. “Anna, listen… something’s come up with Chloe. She was watching a horror movie by herself and freaked out. There’s a thunderstorm, and she called me sobbing, totally hysterical. You know how scared she gets.” In that instant, my heart plunged into a bucket of ice water. “And?” I heard myself ask, my voice eerily calm and foreign. “I have to go check on her first. I can’t leave her alone like this.” He paused, then said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re strong, Anna. Just grab an Uber to the hospital and get checked in. I’ll comfort her and then I’ll head right over to meet you.” You’re strong. Those two words were a poisoned knife, and he twisted it right in my gut. I hung up without another word. That night, I took an Uber to the hospital by myself. I waited in the crowded ER alone. I sat in a cold, sterile room alone, watching the IV fluid drip, drip, drip into my arm. The room was full of other patients, all of them with family or friends by their side. There was just me. Ethan never showed up. The next morning, he sent me a text with a picture of Chloe sleeping peacefully. Hey babe, Chloe had a rough night, I stayed with her until she finally calmed down and fell asleep. How are you doing? Still at the hospital? Staring at that screen, I had a moment of blinding clarity. For five years, I was the one who was expected to be “strong.” And Chloe? She would always be the fragile, helpless one who deserved to be comforted and cared for, no matter the cost. My mom’s nagging was just the spark. The real bomb that destroyed every last bit of affection I had for him was that night—the six long, cold hours I spent all by myself in the hospital. “Anna? Are you there?” Maya’s voice pulled me back to the present. I snapped a picture of the old, discarded lock and posted it to my Instagram story. Caption: Out with the old, in with the new. “I’m sure,” I said into the phone. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” I put the phone on speaker and set it aside, then started gathering Ethan’s things. His toothbrush, his towel, a few changes of clothes, and the cufflinks he so proudly wore. I stuffed it all into a black trash bag. Whether he was intentionally malicious or just clueless didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that I was finally choosing myself. That was enough. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole. It was Ethan, with a tear-streaked Chloe standing beside him. I didn’t open the door. Ethan tried the keypad. The electronic lock beeped, ACCESS DENIED, over and over. His face grew darker with each failed attempt. Finally, he started pounding on the door. “Anna! Open this door! What the hell did you do to the lock?” I turned on my phone’s video camera and aimed it at the peephole. Chloe tried to pull him back. “Ethan, please don’t! She’s probably just angry. Let’s just go.” “Go? She threw all my stuff out in the hall! She’s trying to cut me off completely?” He kicked the door, the sound echoing in the hallway. I walked calmly to the door and spoke through it. “Mr. Hayes, you kick my door one more time, and I’ll be sending this video to your firm’s HR department. I’ve even got a title for the email: Promising Young Analyst Has Public Meltdown. What Gives?” The kicking stopped. It was silent outside. A few seconds later, Chloe’s tearful voice drifted through the door. “Anna-Marie, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at Ethan. He’s just upset because he cares about you so much. I… I made you some homemade chicken pot pie. I’ll just leave it out here for you.” I heard their footsteps retreat down the hall. I opened the door. A thermal container sat on my doormat with a sticky note on top. Anna-Marie, five years is a long time. Don’t give up on it so easily. —Chloe The handwriting was delicate, pretty, and reeked of passive aggression. I picked up the container, walked to my living room window, opened it, and dropped the container into the dumpster below. Perfect shot. I dusted my hands off and went to take a shower. As the hot water washed over me, my phone buzzed incessantly on the counter. It was Ethan. I let it go to voicemail. When I got out, I had over twenty missed calls. The latest text was from Chloe. Anna-Marie, how could you throw out the pie? I spent three hours making that for you. I know you don’t like me, but you can’t just disrespect my feelings like that. Ethan saw you do it from the car, and he’s really hurt. I stared at the message and laughed. Of course he was hurt. I had just destroyed the prop he was going to use to prove his own innocence. I didn’t reply. I just blocked both their numbers. The world went blissfully silent. 3 The next day, with a freshly printed personal profile, I went back to the brewery. They were hosting another singles’ mixer. Ethan had destroyed the professor’s profile yesterday; I was determined to find someone even better today. A man with kind eyes and wire-rimmed glasses approached me. “Excuse me, are you Anna-Marie?” I nodded. “Hi, I’m Leo. I was the, uh… the professor whose profile got destroyed yesterday.” He gave a slightly embarrassed smile. “I got your number from the event organizer, but when I tried to call, it wouldn’t go through.” I remembered I had turned on a feature to block all unknown numbers to avoid Ethan. “I’m sorry about that.” “It’s okay.” Leo’s eyes fell to the new profile sheet in my hand. “Back at it again today?” I held it up. “Efficiently seeking a non-drama-filled relationship.” Leo actually laughed. “Me too.” He gestured to a quiet corner table. “Would you mind if we talked for a bit? Standing in the middle of all this makes me a little nervous.” I saw a faint blush creep up his neck and smiled. “Sure.” Leo was fascinating. He taught classical literature, and he spoke thoughtfully, but he had a dry sense of humor that kept catching me off guard. We talked about everything from Shakespeare to the terrible philosophy of reality TV, and it wasn’t awkward at all. “Honestly, I get it,” he said with a sigh when we talked about the mixer. “My family is constantly trying to set me up. Coming here and looking for myself is just more efficient.” He smiled wryly. “The last woman my mom set me up with insisted she was a sweet, traditional girl. When I showed up for our date, she’d brought her mom, two aunts, and a cousin to ‘interview’ me.” “We’d been talking for maybe five minutes when her aunt asked if I’d be willing to hand over my paycheck to her niece, and her cousin asked what school district I planned on buying a house in.” “It felt like an interrogation. And at the end, the ‘sweet girl’ told me I seemed nice, but my only flaw was that I looked too much like a pushover, and she was worried I wouldn’t be able to handle her brother who wanted to go into politics.” He mimicked their voices perfectly, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Hearing his story made him feel less like a perfect resume and more like a real person. We were both just trying to navigate the bizarre landscape of modern dating, looking for someone on the same page. My phone vibrated. I glanced at the screen. It was a picture message from an unknown number. It was a photo of Ethan in a hospital bed, his left arm in a cast, his face pale. Chloe was sitting by his side, dutifully peeling an apple for him. They looked like a tragic painting. Beneath the picture was a single line of text. Anna-Marie, Ethan was distracted trying to find you and got into a car accident. He broke his arm. Can you please come see him? I put my phone face down on the table, my expression unreadable. Leo noticed the change in my mood. “Is everything alright?” “Yeah, just spam.” I took a sip of my beer, hiding the cold fury in my eyes. Ethan. You’ve really outdone yourself. Using a guilt trip of this magnitude just to drag me back in. “Anna-Marie,” Leo said suddenly. “This might be forward, but it feels like you’ve got a storm cloud following you around.” I looked up at him. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, his gaze sincere, “but I can tell you’re not happy. If there’s anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.” A warmth spread through my chest. Unlike Ethan’s arrogant “I’ll fix this for you” attitude, Leo offered something different: respect and equality. “Thank you, Leo,” I said, and I meant it. “But don’t worry. The cloud is about to clear up.” I was going to rip it to shreds myself. We talked until the brewery was closing. Leo walked me to the entrance of my apartment complex. “I had a really great time talking to you today,” he said, his figure elongated by the streetlight. “Me too.” “So… could I maybe see you again tomorrow?” he asked, a hopeful hesitation in his voice. I nodded. “Definitely.” After saying goodbye to Leo, I turned and started walking toward my building. I’d just reached the front door when a figure lunged out of the shadows and grabbed my arm. It was Ethan. His right hand gripped me tightly. His left arm was, indeed, in a cast, held in a sling around his neck. “Well, look at you, Anna,” he snarled, his eyes bloodshot. “I get in a car wreck because of you, and you’re out on a date with another man?”

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The day Hollywood’s golden boy announced his wedding, the biggest star in the world spent the entire night smoking on her balcony. I leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on my face. “You should go crash the wedding.” Stella stubbed out her cigarette and curled into my arms. Her fingers traced the long, faded scar on my forearm—a souvenir from the time I took a knife for her. “You big idiot,” she whispered. “Don’t you have any faith in yourself?” Two days later, a friend at TMZ sent me a video. It was Stella, on a stage, tears streaming down her face as she and Ethan Cole kissed, a crowd roaring around them. That’s when the System came back online. Its voice was full of pity. I managed to get you a special offer. For just one dollar, you can continue to live… as Stella’s husband. I walked to the edge of the pier and tossed a dollar coin into the dark, churning water. “No, thanks.” It was only later that I heard the stories. How the great Stella Vance was squandering her fortune and her sanity, trying to dredge the entire Pacific coastline. All to find a single coin. 1 When the black Escalade came for me, I happened to be clutching a dollar coin in my hand. The System, silent for years, flickered back to life in my mind. Its voice was tinny, laced with a digital sob. I got you a deal! For just one dollar, you can keep living as Stella’s husband. My mind flashed back to last night, to Stella on the balcony. She was at the top of her game now. She didn’t need to chain-smoke her anxieties away anymore. It had to be about Ethan Cole’s engagement. I saw her out there, a lonely silhouette against the LA skyline. “You should go crash the wedding,” I’d teased. She turned, stepping out of the shadows. Her beautiful face, always so cool and distant to the rest of the world, softened for me. Her fingers found the scar on my arm. “You big idiot,” she’d murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. “What crazy things are you thinking?” “That you’ll run off with him,” I said, no filter. Her smile widened, brilliant and blinding. She threw her arms around my neck. “If I left a man like you for him, I’d be the stupidest woman alive. So, don’t leave me tonight, okay?” Stella had been busy. Her new production company was taking off. She was always out late, handling “emergencies.” “Deal,” I’d said, forcing a smile so wide it hurt, hoping it would hide the sadness in my eyes. “Even if the studio explodes, I’m not going anywhere.” But I didn’t have any hope. Not really. Not when Ethan Cole was so sure of himself. An Instagram DM had appeared earlier that day, from a burner account. Wanna bet? I snap my fingers, she comes running. I’d replied politely. Who is this? You need me to introduce myself? Come on, charity case. We’ve met. At the group home. In your bed. 2 Those words froze me to the couch. He knew everything. He knew I was the dirty, clumsy kid from the foster system that no one ever wanted. Why are you telling me this? I typed back. I’m just trying to have a relationship here, and your constant neediness is a pain in my ass. Every time there’s a thunderstorm in LA, she has to drop everything and run home to you. It’s nothing personal. I just find it annoying. So, I’m getting rid of the annoyance. I clenched my jaw just as the front door opened. Stella swept in, looking radiant. “Liam, did you miss me?” she asked, her tone so casual, like she was just getting home from a long day at the office. But I saw it. One of the silk ribbons on her dress was torn. And in the photo Ethan had just sent me, I could see the faint flush on her cheek, the look she got when she was… moved. A flash of lightning split the sky outside. Stella’s phone began to buzz incessantly. This was his bet. He wanted me to see, with my own eyes, who she would choose. And deep down, in that old, insecure part of me that never really went away, I knew I would lose. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me close. But her body was stiff. “Liam,” she said softly. “Have you ever thought that hiding from your fears isn’t a long-term solution?” I knew what she meant. “The day I pulled you out of that collapsed building, I watched lightning strike my best friend right in front of me.” I was terrified of loud noises, of that raw, natural power that could erase a person in an instant. I only ever had two real friends in the system. One of them was gone. Now, there was only Stella. She turned my face to hers, her gaze intense. “Liam, you need to grow up. The company is at a critical stage. You want me to be free from that horrible studio contract, right? This company is my hope. It’s our future.” I had always supported her, in everything. But for once, I was selfish. “I don’t want you to go,” I whispered. Her phone kept vibrating. A flicker of impatience crossed her features, so fast I might have imagined it. “Just think about it, Liam.” She stood up and started texting. She didn’t know that Ethan was screenshotting everything and sending it to me. Ethan: Not on your way yet? Stella: He’s throwing a tantrum. Ethan: The kid who used to drink out of the toilet at the group home is throwing a tantrum? Wow. Look, Stella, if you can’t make it, it’s fine. I’ll just let my psycho fiancée keep trying to break down the door. She probably won’t actually stab me. This is America, after all. Stella: [Weary emoji] I’ve spoiled him. I’ll teach him to be more independent. Don’t be scared. I’m on my way. She put her phone down just as I finished reading. “I’ll be back to make you your favorite dinner,” she promised. She pulled on her jacket, but paused at the door and came back to plant a light, cool kiss on my forehead. The door clicked shut. Hello, Liam, the System’s voice echoed in my head. I’m sorry we have to meet again. I never seem to bring good news. I wanted to hug it, this strange, sad entity. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” It’s not your fault, either, it replied, its voice clear and kind. 3 The next day was my birthday. For the first time ever, Stella wasn’t there. I texted her. Eight hours later, she replied with a photo of herself smiling brightly next to a street sign in Paris. Stella: Paris is beautiful, Liam. When I’m done with this, I’ll take you here. We’ll celebrate your birthday then. I texted back: Okay. But the photo wasn’t from today. Minutes earlier, my friend from TMZ had sent me the video. “Married actress crashes A-lister’s wedding. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen. That snake Ethan Cole didn’t even need to marry that girl—her family’s company just went bankrupt. He did this on purpose, trending on Twitter for weeks about his tragic, arranged marriage. Fucking drama queen.” In the video, Stella and Ethan Cole were kissing, sobbing in each other’s arms, surrounded by a cheering crowd. I’d recognized Ethan the first time I saw him on screen. People are haunted by what they couldn’t have in their youth. For Stella, he was that. One year, a senator’s son came to stay at our group home for a month as a charity project. That was Ethan. Stella, who was usually my shadow, barely spoke to me the entire time. I thought he was just a passing phase. I was wrong. He was the moon she could never reach. And I was just the familiar, boring earth she was stuck on. While Stella was kissing Ethan in front of the world, I was walking down the street, trying to buy myself a birthday cake. When the Escalade mounted the curb and accelerated toward me, I just stood there. I didn’t even move. How can the punishment be happening ahead of schedule? the System asked, confused. “It’s okay,” I told it. “I got to live a lot longer than I was supposed to. I saw some beautiful things.” That day the lightning struck, it hit me, too. I had thrown myself over Stella to protect her. That’s when the System first appeared. It told me to choose one person. If I could make them fall in love with me, I could live. I chose Stella. We’d survived the system together, clinging to each other. It seemed like the safest, most certain path in the world. In this last moment, I realized my mistake. Love isn’t that simple. The System tearfully froze time. A moment later, its light pulsed. I got you one last chance. For one dollar. You can keep living as Stella’s husband. But… you will be bound to her, forever. Once, that would have been a temptation. But I had grown up. “No, thanks,” I said. The coin was still in my hand. The ocean was fifty feet away. I arched my arm and threw it as far as I could. Time resumed. The pain of the impact was as searing as the lightning had been all those years ago. Unfortunately, I didn’t die instantly. In the flash of agony, I thought I saw my old friend Maya. The ambulance ride was a blur of siren wails and the suffocating smell of antiseptic. I heard her voice, desperate and sharp, talking to the other paramedics. “Patient is in cardiac arrest, starting chest compressions…” 4 Stella called my phone more than a dozen times. I was in surgery, so I couldn’t answer. After the first round of resuscitation, Maya found my phone buzzing on a gurney outside the OR. She answered the latest call. “It’s just a business arrangement, Liam, why can’t you accept that?” Stella’s voice was impatient, angry. “Ethan and I are tied together by our careers now. This isn’t like when we were kids anymore.” She paused, taking a ragged breath. “This isn’t a world where you can solve everything with your fists.” She still remembered me fighting the other kids who called her a bastard, the daughter of a homewrecker. She’d arrived at the home like a princess, a tiny, perfect doll in a frilly dress, stepping out of her billionaire father’s limousine. Then, one day, she was just one of us. Her father’s wife had found out about her, and her mother was dead. He’d dumped her in the system to keep her from threatening his legitimate daughter’s inheritance. Was her obsession with Ethan just a longing for the life that was stolen from her? Maya tried to tell her what was happening, but the light above the OR door flashed red again. “Dr. Chen!” a nurse yelled. “Patient’s unresponsive, exhibiting neurological signs, he’s crashing!” Maya dropped the phone and ran back inside. On the other end of the line, Stella heard only silence. “Liam? Why aren’t you saying anything?” She stared at the screen for a long moment, then sighed and hung up. Ethan glanced at her, a smirk on his face. “Giving you the silent treatment? You give a weed too much sunlight, it starts to think it’s a rose.” “He’s—” Stella hesitated. “He’s different.” “So, what do you want? Your career, or a normal life with him? Have you figured that out yet?” Ethan sneered. “Today he’s posting pity-bait about how I’m bullying him. Tomorrow he’ll leak that you’re sleeping with him. It’s the truth, but the public doesn’t care about the truth. To them, you’re just a liar.” Stella stared out the window, a headache blooming behind her eyes. The phone rang again. It was Maya, calling from my number. Stella answered immediately. “Liam, about before, I—” “The night you and Liam signed your marriage certificate,” Maya’s voice cut in, cold and precise. “What was the celestial event?” Stella froze, racking her brain. The voice was familiar. “Maya?” she asked, her own voice turning to ice. “Where’s Liam? Why do you have his phone? Where are you?” Stella had always hated Maya, always been terrified I would choose her instead. Maya ignored the jealous fit. “I’m asking you a question. The night you registered your marriage, what happened in the sky? Please, just answer the question.” “Are you insane, Maya? Why are you asking me that? Doesn’t Liam know? Who the hell do you think you are?” “STELLA!” Maya’s voice cracked with a fury Stella had never heard before. “He and I are just friends, you fucking paranoid bitch! What was the event in the sky?! We’re out of time!” The raw desperation in Maya’s voice stunned her into silence. The night they got their marriage license— I knew Stella wouldn’t be able to answer. That night, there was a solar eclipse. A sun in the night sky. But Stella was in London. Ethan had staged a suicide attempt to get her on a plane. When she came back, exhausted and stressed, she had no idea what she’d missed. I’d asked her, “Stella, did you see the sun last night?” She’d just rubbed her tired eyes. “It was raining in London,” she’d said. “Overcast.” An answer that was not an answer. I was talking about LA. She was talking about London. 5 In the final moments of the countdown, Maya wanted to fly across the world and strangle Stella. I was confused. The System had never given second chances before. Maybe it was new at this, not yet immune to human tragedy. It had given Maya the instructions. Call Stella. Ask the question. Thirty seconds. If she answers correctly, Liam lives. No hints. No other questions. Just this. Maya thought it was a sure thing. What woman wouldn’t remember the night she got married? Even she knew about the eclipse; it had been all over the news. But Stella wasn’t here. She wasn’t even looking at the same sky. “God damn you, Stella,” Maya whispered into the phone. “I hope you regret this for the rest of your life.” Time’s up, the System announced. Answer incorrect. The phone slipped from Maya’s hand. Through the window of the OR, she saw the head surgeon pull off his mask and shake his head. She heard the long, flat beep of the monitor, a sound that seemed to stretch into eternity. From the phone on the floor, Stella’s tinny voice asked, “Let me talk to Liam.” Maya started to laugh, tears splashing onto the sterile linoleum. “He’s dead,” she said, her voice hollow and calm.

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I was born with a peculiarity: two hearts beating inside my chest. It was the only thing about me that ever brought my parents any joy. Because my older brother, Jason, was born with a congenital heart defect. The only reason I existed was to ensure he would live. Then I met Kitty, and we got married. She rescued me from the abyss of my desperate longing for a family’s love. I thought she would be different from my parents. But when my brother’s heart began to fail, she became obsessed with the idea of me donating one of mine to him. What she didn’t know was that I only had one heart left. My other one was already inside of her. 1. “It’s just one heart, Ethan. Why are you being so selfish?” “Weren’t you born to keep your brother alive?” Kitty’s grip on my arm was like a vise. “But I want to live, too. I’ll die without a heart.” Her face tightened for a moment before she pressed on. “You have two hearts. Give one away, and you’ll still have one left. You’ll live.” “But your brother is different. Without this heart from you, he’ll die.” Ignoring my struggles, Kitty shoved me into the prep room. I tried to explain, my voice filled with a desperate helplessness. “I only have one heart now.” “You saw the test results, didn’t you?” She wouldn’t listen. “Who knows what you’ve done to get out of this? You probably bribed the lab technicians to fake the report.” She was convinced I’d paid someone off to alter the results. “No, Kitty, that’s not it. I had surgery when I was a kid. I already donated one of my hearts.” “Enough, Ethan! This is about saving your brother’s life. Why are you being so stubborn?” she snapped, cutting me off. “I’m not lying. My heart is inside you.” But she didn’t hear a word I said. She was already walking toward my brother’s prep room. 2. The other doctors in the room stared at us, momentarily stunned. Then, someone spoke up. “Picking now to whisper sweet nothings? That’s just disgusting.” “Your brother is fighting for his life, and you’re in here hitting on your sister-in-law with cheesy lines.” Only our immediate families knew Kitty and I were married. Her colleagues had never met me. And since Kitty had handled every single aspect of Jason’s hospitalization, everyone in her department assumed he was her husband. Kitty had never bothered to correct them. “Exactly. Instead of trying to save his own brother, he’s trying to seduce his wife.” “What a waste of a heart.” Their words were like daggers. I had to tell them the truth. “Actually, I’m the one who’s—” Kitty came back out and grabbed my arm again, her grip tight. “You are donating your heart today. Your brother is already in the operating room. You’re next.” She brandished a stack of papers. “I’ve already signed the consent forms. All you have to do is get on the table.” Inside the OR, I saw Jason. He looked so frail and weak that it was impossible not to feel sorry for him. “Don’t worry,” a doctor said kindly. “Your wife, Dr. Evans, will make sure you live a long, healthy life.” Jason didn’t correct him. He just offered a weak, grateful smile. “It’s all my fault,” he rasped, his voice filled with self-reproach. “Making my brother sacrifice so much for me.” He looked at me, but his eyes held a glint of triumph. The other doctors murmured in sympathy, their gazes turning on me with contempt. To them, my brother was a saint, and I was a monster. After a few reassuring words to Jason, Kitty turned to me. She ignored my frantic struggles and forced me onto the operating table. “Get the anesthesiologist in here. Now,” she ordered. A moment later, the fight went out of me. Kitty’s fingers brushed against my cheek. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure you survive this.” Her mentor had been a pioneer in heart transplantation. She was confident she could pull this off. “After your brother recovers, the whole family will finally accept you. And I’ll be right here by your side.” 3. The surgery began, a tense and focused dance of scalpels and sutures. Hours later, Kitty lifted a heart from my chest. Without a second glance, she rushed it into Jason’s operating room. My chest was a gaping wound. My body lay alone and forgotten on the cold metal table. Suddenly, the piercing shriek of the heart monitor jolted the attending physician awake. “He’s dead? I thought he had two hearts.” One of Kitty’s colleagues sounded confused. “You actually believed that story Dr. Evans told? It was just a joke.” “Serves him right,” another one muttered. “Trying to seduce Dr. Evans while her husband was dying. He got what he deserved.” “So, what do we do now?” “He’s dead. Someone will come for the body eventually. If not, the morgue will deal with it.” With that, they all left. Kitty, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in Jason’s surgery. It was her first heart transplant, but she was confident. After several grueling hours, she finished, the procedure a success. Exhausted but triumphant, she followed Jason to the recovery room. Only after he was settled did a thought of me cross her mind. As she was heading back to the OR, she ran into a colleague from the surgery. “Where’s my husband?” she asked. The colleague thought for a moment. “Isn’t he back in his room already? Don’t worry, someone’s watching him. The nurses in the department will take good care of your husband.” The odd phrasing didn’t register with Kitty. She figured her colleague was right. With her position in the hospital, the nurses would be sure to look after him. So, she went back to her office and got back to work. A day later, Jason woke up. Kitty was right there by his side. “Jason, you’re finally awake.” Seeing her, he burst into tears. 4. Kitty gently hugged him. “Don’t worry. The surgery was a success. Your heart is going to be fine now.” Jason touched his chest, overwhelmed with relief. The illness that had plagued him his entire life was finally gone. He clung to Kitty, sobbing. “You need to stay calm,” she murmured, rubbing his back soothingly. “No extreme emotions.” A nurse passing by smiled. “Dr. Evans, you take such good care of your husband.” Kitty froze. She remembered I was in another room on the same floor. “You’re mistaken,” she started to explain. “He’s not…” Jason clutched his chest, a pained expression on his face, effectively cutting her off. Kitty’s attention immediately shifted back to him. “I told you not to cry. You need to rest so you can recover.” Seeing Jason like this, so vulnerable, a memory of me surfaced in her mind. She realized she hadn’t seen me since the surgery. “Jason, you get some rest. I’m going to check on Ethan.” As she stood up to leave, Jason grabbed her hand, his grip surprisingly strong. “I had this surgery without telling my parents. This is a critical time for my recovery. I’m scared to be alone. I’m worried I won’t heal properly.” His pale face and pleading eyes made her heart soften. Besides, she thought, the doctors and nurses would be looking out for me because of her. I would be fine. “Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll stay with you for a few more days.” Jason watched her sit back down before slowly closing his eyes. Meanwhile, in the morgue, an attendant was staring at my body. “It’s been two days and no one’s come to claim him. What are we supposed to do?” Another attendant was cleaning up. “What are you looking at? Let’s just get this done so we can go home.” Together, they unceremoniously shoved my body into a black bag. “Look at him. Died a pretty nasty death. Probably wasn’t a good person.” “Good, bad… they all look the same after cremation.” “True. Still a shame, though. So young.” 5. Two more days passed. Jason’s recovery was going well, and Kitty finally decided it was time to check on me. She walked into my room and found it empty. A nurse was stripping the bed. “Where’s the patient from this room?” The nurse looked up. “Oh, Dr. Evans. He was discharged.” A flicker of annoyance went through Kitty. I’d just had major surgery. What was I thinking, leaving the hospital instead of resting? She pulled out her phone and dialed my number. It went straight to voicemail. “Fine,” she muttered, her anger rising. “Go ahead and die out there for all I care.” She stormed back to Jason’s room. He immediately noticed her foul mood. “Is Ethan still angry? He won’t forgive you?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “It’s all my fault. I’ll go talk to him right now. I don’t want you two fighting because of me.” He made a show of trying to get out of bed, and Kitty rushed to stop him. “Don’t worry about him. You need to focus on getting better. That way, when Mom and Dad find out the good news on the day you’re discharged, they’ll be overjoyed.” “As for Ethan,” she added dismissively, “he’s not going to die. He’s already been discharged.” She remembered how I had begged her before the surgery, and a feeling of resentment bubbled up inside her. We were brothers. Why was I so unwilling to save him? And seeing Jason, always so considerate of me, only made my selfishness seem worse. Fine, she thought. If I was going to be so stubborn, then I could have some time to cool off on my own. It wouldn’t be too late to bring me back for Jason’s discharge party. Later, in the doctor’s lounge, her colleagues were laughing and joking around. The moment she walked in, they all fell silent. Kitty found it strange. “What were you all talking about?” 6. No one said a word. After a long, awkward pause, a colleague put her arm around Kitty’s shoulders. “What else? About how devoted you and your husband are to each other, of course.” Kitty thought about how I’d been forced to give up one of my hearts for her. She supposed, in a way, that did show how much I loved her. Even if I had been coerced, I had still helped her save a life. With that thought, she forgave my sudden disappearance. But the fact that I wasn’t answering her calls still infuriated her. Her colleague noticed her troubled expression. “Is your husband in a bad mood?” Kitty didn’t answer. “He just had surgery. It’s normal for him to be a little down,” the colleague continued. “Just be patient with him. Do something to cheer him up.” Kitty’s frown slowly smoothed out. She remembered how much I loved the pastries from the bakery near our apartment. She decided she’d go home after her shift. Carrying a box of pastries, she walked into our apartment. “Honey? I bought your favorite pastries.” Silence. As she set the box down, her eyes fell on the divorce papers I had left on the table a week ago. The moment she had told me to donate my heart, I had decided to leave her. Kitty stared at the papers in disbelief. Seriously? she thought. All this over one heart? How dare I try to divorce her over this? Furious, she threw the box of pastries into the trash. “If you don’t want this home, then don’t ever come back!” Just then, her phone rang. “Kitty? Where has Ethan been lately?” It was my father. He rarely called, and even more rarely asked about me. His world revolved around Jason. An idea formed in Kitty’s mind. My parents were the only ones who could get me to show my face. And Jason was almost fully recovered. So, she told my father about the surgery. 7. My parents rushed to the hospital that night. The moment Jason saw them, he burst into tears. The three of them clung to each other, a tableau of relieved grief. After a while, my parents asked about me. “Where’s your brother? He’s in the same department. He should be here to see you.” Jason hesitated. “He’s already been discharged.” My mother held Jason close. “Discharged? He certainly recovered quickly. Leaving the hospital just a few days after surgery. He’s probably going to get himself killed out there.” My father shot her a warning look. “Don’t say that. Even though Jason has a new heart, there’s no guarantee there won’t be complications. If Ethan dies, what will happen to Jason?” My mother quickly covered her mouth. “You’re right, you’re right. If anyone’s going to die, it should be after Jason is completely safe.” She turned to Jason, her voice full of love. “Don’t worry, darling. Your father and I will always protect you.” A warmth spread through Jason’s chest. The next day, Kitty walked into the room to find this idyllic family scene. For some reason, it bothered her. She had never seen my parents look at me with such affection. “Kitty, you’re here! We can’t thank you enough for saving Jason’s heart.” They were so grateful to her, but they didn’t mention my name once. Kitty asked if they had heard from me. The question immediately soured their mood. “Why are you worried about him? He’s been discharged, so he must be fine. You should be focused on Jason. Jason has always been so fragile, while Ethan has always been as strong as an ox.” My parents had always wanted to set Jason up with Kitty. They’d only held back because of his heart condition. Now, with me out of the picture, the path was clear for them. Before Kitty could say anything, a colleague walked in. “Dr. Evans, you take such good care of your husband. You’re here every day.” My parents beamed, assuming their wish was already coming true. A faint blush colored Jason’s cheeks. But Kitty’s face darkened with anger. “Who told you he was my husband?” 8. The colleague, oblivious to Kitty’s fury, just laughed. “Everyone in the department knows. Don’t be so modest.” She quickly left to attend to her other duties. My parents took Kitty’s hands. “Kitty, since Ethan isn’t here, and everyone already thinks Jason is your husband, it will ensure he gets better care.” Kitty saw the hurt expression on Jason’s face and swallowed her anger. Back in her office, before she could find her colleague to set the record straight, she was told her old mentor had arrived. She rushed to the director’s office. The moment she saw Dr. Peterson, she threw her arms around him. “Dr. Peterson! It’s been so long. How have you been?” He smiled, looking her over. “I heard you performed a heart transplant. The student has surpassed the master.” He reminisced about the surgery he had performed on her when she was a child, marveling at how she had followed in his footsteps. Kitty froze. “What surgery are you talking about?” Dr. Peterson was taken aback. “The heart transplant, of course. The one you had when you were a little girl.” The office was silent for a moment. Then, someone burst in. “Dr. Evans, you need to come quick! The family in room 32 is fighting!” Room 32. Jason’s room. She took off running. As she burst in, she heard someone shouting. “Don’t you dare deny it! My nephew donated his heart to your daughter!” Kitty rushed forward and pulled the two women apart. One of them was her mother, who looked at her with tear-filled, guilty eyes. The other woman, when she saw Kitty, started shouting again. “It was you! My nephew Ethan’s heart is inside you!” Kitty stared at her, her mind reeling. My words came rushing back to her. My heart is inside you.

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The picture of Caleb Hayes carrying another woman went viral while I was watching the sun come up. The mountain was cold. The light offered no warmth. When I got back into cell service, I sent Caleb a text ending our engagement. I didn’t want him anymore. I just wanted out. Whatever it took. … Caleb couldn’t wrap his head around it. All he did was miss a sunrise with Mia Taylor. And now, the ever-compliant, ever-gentle Mia was actually threatening to call off the engagement. He didn’t take it seriously. The photos were scrubbed from the internet within an hour. There was nothing going on between him and Seraphina, not really. So he didn’t call Mia. But by the time he finally thought to reach out, he had the sinking feeling he’d already lost her for good. 1 Caleb didn’t bother to hide his phone when he took the call. It was his assistant, just as I’d expected. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze locking onto mine. “Something’s come up. An emergency.” “Do you want to head down with me, or are you going to—” “Can’t it wait?” I cut him off, my voice laced with a pleading I didn’t know I was capable of. “Can you please just stay and watch the sunrise with me? Please?” The moment the words left my lips, regret flooded in. Caleb said nothing. He just turned and started down the mountain path, the look he gave me over his shoulder colder than the biting pre-dawn air. I forced a brittle smile. A strange calm settled over me. I reached the summit at 5:58 AM, just in time. As the sun crested the horizon, the entire peak was bathed in a layer of liquid gold. But God, it was so cold up here. The sun didn’t warm a thing. A young couple who’d hiked up with the same tour group were huddled together, wrapped in each other’s arms. They asked if I’d take a picture for them. They looked so happy it hurt to see. The boy walked over, handing me his phone. He leaned in and whispered, his voice trembling with nerves and excitement. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but could you actually take a video?” “I’m going to propose to my girlfriend.” And that was it. That was the exact moment I decided to leave Caleb. I watched through the screen as the boy gently placed a small, delicate veil on the girl’s head before dropping to one knee, holding out a ring. When she turned, her gasp was a perfect mix of shock and pure joy. I tilted my head back, but the tears I’d been holding back—the humiliation of being abandoned halfway up a mountain—finally spilled over and ran down my cheeks. 2 After the sun was fully up, I followed the stream of people to the shuttle bus stop at the base of the mountain. Caleb was long gone. The private driver he’d arranged for us never came back. I bought a bus ticket and found a seat in the back row, by the window. My phone, tucked away in my purse, began to vibrate violently. I pulled it out. A flood of notifications. Aside from Caleb’s pinned chat, a message from his cousin, Chloe Hayes, was at the very top. “The real queen is back in town. Do you really have the shameless audacity to think my cousin is still going to marry you?” “Mia, if I were you, I’d be the one to call off this sham engagement.” “[VIDEO]” I tapped the link. It was a screen recording of the TMZ homepage. 【SERAPHINA MONROE ATTACKED, CALEB HAYES RUSHES TO ASPEN TO BE BY HER SIDE】 【ARE SERAPHINA MONROE AND CALEB HAYES HOLLYWOOD’S HOTTEST SECRET COUPLE?】 【EXCLUSIVE: BILLIONAIRE HEIR CALEB HAYES IS ACTRESS SERAPHINA MONROE’S MYSTERY BENEFACTOR】 The headlines were a gallery of their names, intertwined. A photo of Caleb carrying a distraught-looking Seraphina in his arms. A paparazzi shot of Caleb in a baseball cap, on vacation with a bundled-up Seraphina. A long-lens photo of Caleb and Seraphina kissing on the deck of a yacht. I squeezed my eyes shut. Then, I opened my chat with Caleb. My fingers trembled as they hovered over the screen. When his assistant had called, I’d heard him say her name. Seraphina. “Caleb, when you get back to New York, we need to schedule a meeting with our families.” “It’s time to discuss calling off the engagement.” We’d been engaged for three years. I had chased him for three years. Even when he was cold and dismissive, I endured it all, telling myself that one day, he would come to love me. But now, I didn’t want to love Caleb Hayes anymore. And I certainly didn’t need his love. I was done. 3 It took Caleb three days to get back to New York. We ran into each other at the airport. He was shielding Seraphina from the cameras, and a team of bodyguards was shielding them both. He froze for a second when he saw me, then quickly averted his gaze. “Caleb, wait.” Seraphina stopped him, then walked right up to me. “You must be Mia,” she said. “I’ve seen pictures of you. Can I please explain?” Her voice was level, neither arrogant nor submissive. But underneath, I could hear a carefully curated note of wronged vulnerability. I didn’t break my stride. I didn’t even look at her as I moved to walk past. But Caleb’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist like a steel cuff. “Mia, Seraphina is talking to you. Where are your manners?” His voice was harsh. So harsh it brought an instant sting of tears to my eyes. “Caleb, don’t be like that,” Seraphina murmured, her voice soft and sweet. “Mia, I am so sorry we had to meet like this,” she said, turning back to me. “I heard Caleb was supposed to be watching the sunrise with you. It was my manager who called him, not me. I never would have interrupted.” She paused, her eyes searching mine. “So… was it beautiful? The sunrise?” I wanted to laugh. I couldn’t. I wanted to scream at her. It didn’t seem worth the energy. In the end, I didn’t answer her perfectly crafted, venomous question. I just looked at Caleb. He really, truly couldn’t stand me. For the first time in three years, I felt the full, undiluted force of his annoyance. “Caleb, you saw the message I sent you, didn’t you?” “Set a time that works for you and let me know. I’ll fly my parents in.” My voice was quiet, but it cut through the airport noise. “Caleb. I’m the one ending this.” 4 I thought he would be pleased. Instead, he looked furious. A fire I couldn’t quite decipher blazed in his eyes. Then again, it made sense. A man like Caleb Hayes, a man who lived his life being worshipped, had just been publicly dumped by me. He had every right to be angry. I maneuvered around them and headed for the security line. It wasn’t until the plane was taking off, leaving the lights of New York behind, that a sense of unreality washed over me. I had loved Caleb Hayes for so many years. I was the one who had begged for this engagement in the first place. But letting go… it felt surprisingly easy. Three years ago, I’d heard from a mutual friend that Caleb’s family was pressuring him relentlessly to get married. So I went to my grandfather. My grandfather, who had always spoiled me, made a call to the Hayes family. And just like that, the merger—the engagement—was arranged. Caleb never said yes, but he didn’t say no either. He just pulled me aside after the engagement party. “Mia,” he’d said, his voice flat. “I don’t love you, and I will never marry you.” “But I can promise you this: until the day you decide to end this, I won’t do anything to disrespect you.” I’d bitten my lip, my voice small. “What do you mean by disrespect?” His answer was immediate and clinical. “Holding hands, hugging, kissing. And sleeping with someone.” Everyone in New York knew his reputation. Caleb Hayes always had a beautiful woman on his arm, a flavor of the month he’d replace every two months like clockwork. But after our engagement, the revolving door of women had stopped. Until Seraphina. And Seraphina had lied. Our first meeting wasn’t at the airport. It was a week ago. She had secretly flown into New York and asked to meet me. She introduced herself as Caleb’s girlfriend. 5 I was stunned when I saw Seraphina Monroe sitting there at the café. She gestured gracefully to the chair across from her. “Mia. I’m Seraphina.” She paused for effect. “Caleb’s girlfriend.” I pressed my lips together, a crushing weight settling on my chest. It felt hard to breathe. Chloe had told me, of course. She’d always said there was someone Caleb kept enshrined in his heart. I never believed her. Hearing it from Seraphina herself sent a dull, throbbing pain through me. “I’ve been working overseas these last few years, either on set or in acting workshops,” she continued, her tone conversational. “I honestly had no idea his family had forced him into an engagement.” “You must know, Mia.” “Caleb doesn’t love you.” “He made a promise to me. That he would wait until I turned twenty-seven.” As if to prove her status, she pulled out her phone and called him, right there in front of me, putting it on speaker. He picked up on the first ring. His voice, clear and warm, filled the space between us. A voice I’d never heard him use with me. “Seraphina, what’s up?” She let out a low, intimate laugh. “Nothing. I just missed you.” There was a brief silence on his end. Then, “I have a business trip to London the day after tomorrow. I’ll come see you then.” “Oh, and that script you mentioned? You got the lead.” She hung up and looked at me with a faint, triumphant smile. It was a taunt. “You can call him too, if you like. Ask him yourself.” I just shook my head. Caleb almost never answered my calls. Why would I subject myself to that humiliation? Before the waiter could even bring the coffee I’d ordered, I managed a weak smile and fled. 6 But my composure didn’t last. After seeing Seraphina that afternoon, I went straight to Caleb’s office. He’d told her he had a business trip to London. I had to ask. “Caleb, do you have any plans the day after tomorrow?” “Grandpa Hayes keeps asking me to bring you over for dinner at the estate. Do you have any time?” It wasn’t a lie. Every time his grandfather called me, he’d tell me to drag Caleb home for a family meal. Caleb never wanted to go. I’d made up so many excuses for him, time and time again. But after learning about Seraphina, I was suddenly tired of lying for him. That day, Caleb’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He placed his pen down on the desk, his expression sour. “Ms. Taylor, are you underworked, or do you simply lack professional etiquette?” “It’s working hours. Are you not aware of that?” His words hit me like a slap. A dense, sharp pain bloomed in my chest. He had been in a meeting when Seraphina called him. He had his assistant escort me out of his office. As the door closed, the assistant offered a kind, pitying look. “Mr. Hayes has always kept his work and private life separate. Please don’t take it to heart, Ms. Taylor.” But I remembered what Seraphina had said. “Everyone in the industry is trying to guess who my powerful benefactor is.” “Who do you think it is, Mia?” My throat felt tight. I clenched my fists. I decided to give us one last chance. One final, definitive chance. That evening, after work, I sent him a text. “Caleb.” “It’s my birthday in a week. Can you take me to see the sunrise?” But now I knew the truth. Someone who doesn’t love you will never love you, no matter how many chances you give them. 7 The plane landed in Aspen. My parents were there to pick me up. As we drove along the highway, the windows were sealed tight, but I could feel the chill in the air. Autumn in Aspen was much colder than in New York. “Are you sure about this? No regrets?” My mom squeezed my hand, her voice filled with concern. When I had first insisted on the engagement to Caleb, I’d staged a full-blown melodrama, locking myself in my room for two days. I was stubborn, determined. My parents were furious, not speaking to me for days. In the end, my grandfather sighed, gave in, and called the Hayes family. The Hayes family was a dynasty in New York. The Taylor family was no small name in Colorado. Our families, otherwise disconnected, had a link through our grandfathers, who were old war buddies that built their empires together. “I’m sure. No regrets,” I said, my voice firm. “I also quit my job at Hayes Design. I’m staying in Aspen to be with you and Grandpa.” Hayes Design was Caleb’s architecture firm. Before leaving New York, I’d sent my resignation email to HR. As a ‘special consultant,’ there were no formalities. I just had to walk away. The things I did to be close to him. It was pathetic. I rested my head on my mother’s shoulder. My gaze drifted to the golden aspen leaves outside the window. The sight was beautiful and bittersweet. Right after we landed, Chloe had sent me another video. I watched it. Caleb was sitting in the center of a plush sofa in what looked like a private club, Seraphina nestled beside him. Someone off-camera asked, “Caleb, Mia Taylor has always been so docile. What’s this about her suddenly wanting to end the engagement? Is it for real?” Caleb let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “I missed one sunrise with her. She wants to throw a tantrum, let her.” “I was never going to marry her anyway.” 8 He was never going to marry me. That’s why he never put any effort into me. The only reason he even agreed to that sunrise trip was because his grandfather had called, yelling and practically ordering him to go. Before we left, I had told him. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. You don’t have to force yourself.” Caleb had given me a long, condescending look. “And have you run and tattle to the old man?” I’d looked down, saying nothing more. All I had told his grandfather was that I was planning a trip to see the sunrise. I never even mentioned Caleb. But his grandfather insisted Caleb should go with me. “Relationships need nurturing,” he had said. And so, all Caleb remembered was the sunrise.

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The call came from a frantic teacher on the bus, her voice cracking over the phone. “There’s a man… he has a gun.” As the director of the Bright Beginnings Preschool, I did the only thing I could: I called 911. My husband, Mark, a lead negotiator for the city police, arrived on the scene. But instead of taking charge, he gestured to the young intern at his side. The intern, Chloe, pouted, her lower lip trembling just so. “Mark, honey, I’ve never done a real one before. I don’t know what to say.” A fond, indulgent smile spread across my husband’s face. “Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice a low murmur meant only for her. “Just talk to him. Follow your instincts. I’m right here.” Three sentences in, the hijacker’s furious shouting had Chloe’s face burning red. Panicked, she screamed into the receiver. “You’re a dead man! The director’s son, Leo, is on that bus! She’ll make sure you rot in prison for this!” The hijacker, enraged, decided to make an example of someone. A child was murdered. Moments later, a police sniper took the hijacker down. In the chaotic aftermath, I saw my husband wrapping his arms around a sobbing Chloe. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “No one can guarantee a negotiation will work one hundred percent of the time.” Then, he walked over to me, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s hard,” he said, his voice flat. “Leo was unlucky. It has nothing to do with Chloe.” He paused, leaning in closer. “Maybe you could put out a statement for her. Something about her courage and quick thinking, how she prevented more casualties.” I stared at him, the world tilting on its axis. It took a full second for his words to register. He thought the child who died… was my son. Our son. A cold, brittle laugh escaped my lips. “I could write one,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “But I don’t think you two would want to receive it.” 1 When Mark and his intern had first arrived, he’d immediately turned to her. “Chloe, you take point on this one. It’s a valuable field experience.” Chloe’s lip did its signature pout, her voice a saccharine drawl. “Oh, Mark… I’m so nervous. It’s my first time, I don’t know where to even start…” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I rushed forward and grabbed Mark’s arm. “Are you insane? There are twenty-two children on that bus. This is Chloe’s first time in the field? It’s too reckless!” Mark violently shook my hand off. “Audrey, what do you know about this? I’m well aware of Chloe’s professional capabilities. Stop getting in the way.” He turned back to Chloe, his expression softening as he gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Don’t be scared. Just trust your gut and give it a try. I’m right here to back you up, no matter what.” Watching them, so wrapped up in their own private world, a chill snaked up my spine from the concrete. The other parents, who had started to gather, were a mess of tears and frantic prayers, the scene descending into chaos. The negotiation line connected. Chloe took a deep breath, forcing a cloying sweetness into her voice. “Hello, sir, my name is Chloe Hayes, I’m a crisis negotiator. I’m asking you to please remain calm, we can talk about your needs…” She was cut off by a raw, guttural scream from the phone. “Talk about my ass! Get me a car and cash, now, or I start killing kids!” Chloe froze, her face flushing a deep, mottled red. Humiliated, she lost all composure and shrieked back into the phone. “You’ll be sorry! Do you have any idea whose bus you’ve taken? The director’s son, Leo, is on that bus! You touch a hair on any of those kids’ heads, and she will make sure you never see the light of day again! The police will put a bullet in your head!” “Chloe, shut up!” The words tore from my throat. My blood ran cold. “What are you doing? You’re going to get him enraged!” Chloe whipped her head around, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “Director Reed, you don’t understand negotiation tactics, so don’t interfere! I’m applying psychological pressure.” She then turned to Mark, her eyes welling up with tears. “Mark, do you see this? She’s… she’s interfering with my work…” Mark’s glare was like a physical blow. “Audrey, be quiet. Chloe is a professional. I trust her judgment. Stop causing trouble.” But on the other end of the line, the hijacker had, predictably, been pushed over the edge. His voice was a venomous roar. “Leo? The director’s kid? Fine! Just fine! He’ll be the first to go! A warning to the rest of you!” “Who’s Leo? Get your ass up here, now!” The bus erupted with the terrified screams of children. Small silhouettes scrambled away from the windows, huddling together in fear. My heart seized, along with those of every parent there. Several mothers looked like they were about to collapse. But Chloe, as if determined to prove herself, leaned into the microphone again, her voice a taunt. “You think you’re tough? Go on, try it! You’ll never get away with it! You’ll die, too! You’re nothing but a coward who preys on children!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged towards her. “Chloe, you don’t care about anyone else, but what about your own child? Liam is on that bus, too!” A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a cold sneer. “Audrey, what are you talking about? My son doesn’t even go to your preschool. He’s at his grandmother’s today. How could he possibly be on that bus?” She turned back to Mark, her voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. “Mark, see? She just has it out for me. She’s trying to throw me off my game…” Mark’s face was a thundercloud. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back roughly. “Audrey, I told you to back off, didn’t you hear me? You interfere with this investigation again, and I’ll have an officer remove you. Forcibly.” In the instant we were arguing, a corner of the bus curtain was ripped aside. The hijacker’s eyes locked onto a small figure huddled in a corner seat. On the back of the child’s backpack, a name was clearly embroidered. He snatched the child, dragging him to the window and screaming hysterically at the crowd outside. “I’ve got him! The director’s son, Leo! Now all of you back the hell off! You surround me, and I’ll kill him right now!” 2 The hijacker pressed the child’s back flat against the windowpane, the glint of a knife blade pressed against his small neck. “Back off! All of you, get back! Get me a car, or he dies right now!” Captain Miller, the on-site commander, his face ashen, spoke low into his radio. “All units, confirm sniper is in position. Wait for a clean shot. Negotiation team, try to de-escalate, buy us some time…” “No!” Mark’s voice cut through the tension. “Captain, give Chloe another chance. The subject is agitated, but Chloe is getting through to him. Changing negotiators or going tactical now will only provoke him. Chloe, quickly, talk to him. Stabilize the situation.” Chloe took a shaky breath and raised the bullhorn again, her voice now filled with a bizarre, self-righteous fury. “To the perpetrator inside! We will not surrender to evil!” “Your only way out is to release the hostages and drop your weapon now!” “Preying on the weak doesn’t make you strong! Go ahead and kill him, but know this: the full weight of the law will come down on you. You’ll get the death penalty!” The parents and I stared, dumbfounded. “What is she saying?” “Is she insane? She’s not even trying to save the child!” As expected, the hijacker was completely enraged. “Fine! Fine! You pushed me to this! You all did!” His broken, desperate roar echoed from inside the bus. Then, a sudden, horrifying spray of crimson splattered across the window. “Ah!” Chloe, standing closest, witnessed the gruesome act firsthand. She let out a piercing shriek and collapsed to the pavement with a thud, her cell phone shattering beside her. She just lay there, sobbing incoherently. The hijacker’s crazed voice started again. “You see that? Now if you don’t back…” CRACK. A single, clean gunshot echoed through the street. The hijacker’s voice stopped. He crumpled to the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead. The scene exploded into motion. Police officers swarmed the bus, carrying out crying children and handing them over to their weeping parents. I stood frozen, my eyes fixed on that blood-stained window, a glacial cold spreading through my body. Just then, Mark rushed past me, straight to the collapsed form of Chloe. He gathered her into his arms, holding her tight, one hand gently patting her back. “Chloe, it’s over, it’s okay…” “It wasn’t your fault. This is how it goes sometimes. No one can guarantee a hundred percent success rate. The guy was a monster. It wasn’t your fault.” Chloe, as if finding her anchor, buried her face in his chest, her sobs becoming more theatrical, more tragic. “Mark… it was… it was so scary…” After comforting her for a long moment, Mark helped her to her feet. Then he turned to me, standing there like a statue, and patted my shoulder. “Audrey, I know you’re in pain.” “Our son is gone. He was unlucky. But this has nothing to do with Chloe, so… don’t take it out on her.” He paused, lowering his voice, a clear warning in his tone. “The department is going to take statements, conduct interviews. When they ask, you know there are things you should say, and things you shouldn’t. Right?” “Chloe’s been through a severe psychological trauma. I need to get her to a counselor. The… arrangements for the child, I’ll have to trust you to handle that for now.” I snapped my head up, looking at him in utter disbelief. Our son? Unlucky? And then it hit me. From the very beginning, they both assumed—they were certain—that the child the hijacker killed, the one he mistook for “Leo,” was my son. 3 An absurd, soul-deep chill spread from my heart to my fingertips. A father, believing his son had just been brutally murdered, and his first instinct wasn’t to collapse in grief, not to see his child one last time, but to comfort another woman and coach me on what to say to the police? I took a deep breath, my voice dangerously level. “Mark, you’re mistaken. The boy who died… it wasn’t Leo.” I held his gaze. “It was Liam. The names are similar. The hijacker must have misheard.” The air crackled with a sudden, tense silence. Chloe stared for a second, then let out a scoffing laugh. “What are you even talking about? Audrey, just because your son is dead, you’re going to curse someone else’s child?” Her expression shifted to one of wounded innocence. “Are you doing this just to get back at me? Blaming me because the negotiation didn’t go perfectly?” Mark’s face darkened, his eyes filling with disappointment and accusation as he looked at me. “Audrey, all the other children were rescued. The only one missing from the roster is Leo. That’s a fact.” “Instead of cooperating with the police and making arrangements for Leo, you’re standing here saying these… these vicious things. What kind of mother are you?” Seeing his performance of righteous indignation, I almost wanted to laugh. “I’m not a good mother?” “And what about you, Mark? You thought Leo was dead. So why weren’t you sad? Why wasn’t there a single tear in your eye? Why aren’t your eyes even red?” My question stopped him cold. A flash of panic crossed his face before it was replaced by anger. “I was on the job! I have to maintain my professional composure! Unlike you. You’re the director of that preschool, and you couldn’t even protect your own students. You let a maniac get on that bus and cause this tragedy. After this, I doubt your preschool will even be allowed to stay open.” His words were cold, cruel. I looked at the face I once knew, now twisted into the mask of a stranger, and my heart sank to the bottom of a cold, dark well. Chloe, feigning distress, tugged on Mark’s sleeve, tears instantly appearing in her eyes. “Mark, honey, don’t fight because of me. It’s my fault. If I just had more field experience, maybe… maybe Leo would still be alive…” Mark pulled her into a protective embrace. “Chloe, don’t you dare blame yourself. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” He turned back to glare at me. “Audrey, that’s enough. Do you think losing a son gives you a free pass to bully people?” “I’m letting it go this time. You need to go home and think about what you’ve done.” Seeing that I was no longer speaking, Mark assumed he had silenced me. He didn’t give me another glance, turning all his tenderness to Chloe. “Chloe, don’t pay any attention to her. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out.” They turned and walked away, never once looking back at the blood-stained school bus. The police tried to contact Liam’s family several times, but Chloe’s phone went unanswered. Liam’s information wasn’t in my preschool’s official records, so as the director, I had no authority to sign off on any paperwork. During my official debriefing, I recounted the entire incident in meticulous detail, including every word of Chloe’s negotiation. 4 The moment I walked through the front door, Mark stormed towards me, his face radiating fury. He slammed a file folder down on the table in front of me. “Audrey, look at what you’ve done!” His face was contorted, his voice tight with rage. “What the hell did you say in your statement? Why did you have to emphasize that it was Chloe’s first negotiation? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve completely destroyed her career!” I slowly lifted my head. “I told the truth. You didn’t think she did anything wrong, did you? So how could the truth possibly destroy her?” “You…!” Mark’s finger trembled as he pointed at me. “What good does the truth do now? If Chloe has a child’s death on her record from her very first field case, her career is over before it even started! And I, as her supervising mentor, will face a severe reprimand! Don’t you understand that?” He took a deep breath, his tone shifting to one of command. “You are going back to the station right now, and you’re going to tell them you were in shock, that you misremembered. You’re going to say Chloe was brave and did everything she could to de-escalate.” “And furthermore, as Leo’s mother, you are going to issue a formal letter of understanding. You’ll also give her a public commendation, stating that you understand and appreciate her efforts… That’s the only way to make this go away.” I looked at him as if he were a complete stranger. To protect Chloe, he was asking me to lie, to rewrite reality. I slowly shook my head, my voice firm. “I can’t issue a letter of understanding. I don’t have the right.” “If you don’t have the right, who does?” Mark roared, his patience completely gone. “You won’t write it? Fine! I’ll write it! I’m still Leo’s legal father. I have that right!” I stared straight into his eyes, a chilling disbelief washing over me. “Mark, you would go this far for her? Don’t you realize you’d be falsifying a report? That’s illegal!” Mark let out a bitter laugh. “Do you know how hard Chloe has worked to change careers? She’s a single mother, busting her ass at the department, trying to get a foothold. So a small accident happens, and we should help her out. Why is your mind so twisted? Can’t you stand to see anyone else succeed?” Just then, his phone rang. Chloe’s hysterical sobs poured through the speaker. “Mark, I can’t do this anymore. Everyone at work is whispering, they’re saying I killed that child… I can’t stay here… I just… I can’t go on living…” Mark’s face instantly flooded with panic. He rushed to soothe her. “Chloe, calm down, don’t do anything stupid! I’m on my way! Just wait for me!” He hung up and shot me a venomous look. “Audrey, I’m telling you, if anything happens to Chloe today, I will never forgive you.” Looking at his cold, determined face, the last shred of affection I held for our marriage evaporated. “Mark, I want a divorce.” He stopped dead in his tracks, his body rigid. “Are you crazy? Our son just died. I’m grieving too. The killer has been shot, what more do you want? Is this really the time to be talking about a divorce?” His tone was dripping with annoyance, as if I were being completely irrational. “If you want a child that badly, once this all blows over, we can just… we can adopt Liam. He’s about the same age as Leo. Once you get to know him, you’ll grow to love him.” He didn’t wait for a response. He yanked open the door and was gone. I stood there, frozen. So that’s how he saw it. A son was just a piece that could be easily replaced. Fine. Just fine. In that case, I didn’t need to show him any mercy at all. I found myself almost looking forward to the moment he discovered the truth. 5 Facing intense public scrutiny, Mark quickly organized a press conference. “As a family member of the deceased,” he began, his voice heavy with performative grief, “I believe that Ms. Chloe Hayes acted with tremendous courage. The external criticism comes from those who do not understand the difficult nature of our work.” A murmur went through the crowd of reporters. If the family had forgiven her, what else was there to say? Chloe, seated beside him, dabbed at the corner of her eye, her shoulders trembling slightly, the picture of a fragile victim. A reporter raised her hand. “Mr. Reed, in your opinion, does the preschool—that is, your wife, Director Audrey Reed—bear any responsibility in this incident?” Mark let out a deep sigh, his face a mask of solemn, familial duty. “Although she is my wife, I cannot let personal feelings cloud my professional judgment. Objectively speaking, there were clear security lapses at the preschool that allowed the perpetrator to board the bus. That is an undeniable failure.” His words sent a shockwave through the room. Reporters scribbled furiously. The tide of public opinion turned on me in an instant. Online, headlines screaming “Director’s Negligence” and “Shut Down Bright Beginnings” began to spread like wildfire. It was then that I stood up from my seat in the back of the room. Mark and Chloe saw me, and the color drained from their faces. I took the microphone offered to me, my voice calm and clear. “Mr. Reed, Ms. Hayes, by your account, this incident resulted in only one casualty. Does that mean that in the eyes of professional negotiators, this can be defined as a ‘successful’ rescue operation?” The question was as sharp as a scalpel. Mark’s expression hardened, his brow furrowing. I turned my gaze to Chloe. “Ms. Hayes, a hypothetical question for you. If you had known that your son, Liam, was on that bus, would you have employed the same aggressive and provocative negotiation tactics?” A flash of panic lit Chloe’s eyes, but she quickly masked it with an air of righteous indignation. “Director Reed, I understand your grief, but please do not profane my professional ethics with such a question!” “It wouldn’t matter whose child was on that bus. I would always adhere to my principles! My conscience is clear!” A cold smile touched my lips. I held her gaze. “So even if it was your child who died, you believe there were no problems with how this case was handled?” Chloe bit her lip, her voice ringing with conviction. “If my child had died on that bus, I would only feel pride. He would have died for a worthy cause!” Mark frowned, cutting in. “Audrey, stop this. Go home.” “I know you’re scared of the online backlash, scared of being held accountable, and that’s why you’re making a scene. Don’t worry. I will face it with you.” He gave a slight nod to the security guards, signaling for them to escort me out. The room buzzed with chatter, the crowd’s eyes on me filled with contempt and anger. I pushed away the guard’s arm and began to clap slowly, a small, chilling smile on my face. “Excellent. Truly excellent. I hope you both remember what you said today. Because you can’t… ever… take it back.” My attitude seemed to infuriate Chloe. She lifted her chin, adopting a posture of untouchable integrity. “Of course I won’t take it back. I, Chloe Hayes, have always acted with a clear conscience!” At that exact moment, the main doors at the back of the conference hall swung open. An old woman walked in, holding the hand of a small boy.

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The buzzing started the second I sank into the hot water of the bathtub. My head snapped around. A drone. It was hovering brazenly right outside my bathroom window. Blood rushed to my head. My first instinct was to jump up and yank the curtains shut, but what if it was recording? I curled myself into the tightest ball possible in the far corner of the tub, grabbed the long-handled back brush from the ledge, and swiped frantically at the cord, managing to pull the blinds closed. I scrambled out, threw on a robe, and rushed to the window. The thing was still there. I ripped the blinds open and held up my phone, hitting record. As if it had been caught, the drone zipped away and vanished into the night. Clutching my phone, I immediately uploaded the video to our condo building’s private Facebook group. “Whose drone is this?! Flying outside my bathroom window at night. Have some decency!” My post was a bombshell. “Isn’t that the same one that was hovering outside my window a few days ago?” “That’s it! I was just about to get undressed and it freaked me out so much I just put my jacket back on!” “This is harassment, right? Who knows if we’re being secretly filmed!” I tagged the building management. “Shouldn’t you be investigating this? It’s happened to more than one resident!” Management replied quickly: “Rest assured, residents, we will look into this immediately.” I thought that would be the end of it. I never imagined the drone would come back, with a vengeance, and this time, just for me. 1. The building management’s investigation went nowhere. They claimed there were too many blind spots in the security camera coverage to find the operator. Judging by the silence in the Facebook group, none of my neighbors were being bothered anymore. It was my personal stalker now. I live on the 16th floor. The view is great, which also means I’m completely exposed. Day one, it hovered outside my living room window, its camera aimed straight at me. I drew the curtains. Day two, it was outside my bedroom window. At midnight. I installed heavy blackout curtains that plunged the room into total darkness. Day three, I was in the kitchen cooking dinner. I turned my head and there it was. A cold, electronic eye, separated from me by a single pane of glass. I felt like an animal in a glass cage, being watched at will by an invisible owner. I called the cops. An officer came, took my statement, and then said, “Ma’am, without any actual damages or proof of it capturing you in a private moment, it’s tough to press charges. We recommend you take extra security precautions.” Extra precautions? I kept all my blinds and curtains drawn, living in a perpetual state of twilight. I was starting to feel like a mushroom. That night, I was watching a movie with the volume turned way up. Suddenly, a deafening whine drowned out the sound. The drone’s propellers. It was practically plastered to my window. I stormed over and ripped open the curtains. A tiny, powerful spotlight had been attached to the drone. A beam of stark white light shot through the darkness, directly into my eyes. I staggered back, eyes stinging, tears streaming down my face. It was taunting me. A switch flipped in my brain. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, slid open the window, and hurled it with all my might. The drone dodged it with a nimble dip. It seemed to gloat, wobbling in the air for a second before flying off. I watched it disappear. It went up. I live on the 16th floor. There are still a dozen or so floors above me. I shut the window and sat in the dark, listening to the furious drumming of my own heart. This wasn’t over. 2. The next day, I took a half-day off work. I went to a specialty electronics store. “Hey, you got any of those high-powered laser pointers?” I asked the guy at the counter. He pulled a long, thin box from under the counter. “This one’s got a three-mile range. You can see the beam at night. Don’t ever point it at anyone’s eyes. It’ll blind them.” “I’ll take it.” That evening, I sat on my couch in the dark, waiting. I’d left a small crack in the curtains. Sure enough, at 9 p.m., the familiar buzz returned. It circled at a distance first, as if checking to see if the coast was clear, before slowly approaching my window. The spotlight flickered on. Showtime. I raised the laser pointer, aimed through the crack in the curtains, and zeroed in on that glowing camera lens. I pressed the button. A beam of brilliant green light shot out and hit the drone’s camera dead-on. The drone jolted violently, as if it had been electrocuted. The spotlight died instantly. It thrashed around in the air for a few seconds before fleeing in a panic. A wave of pure satisfaction washed over me as I watched it retreat. I had the best night’s sleep I’d had in weeks. The next morning, I walked out of my apartment, feeling refreshed and ready for work, and was hit by a wall of stench. A huge splash of dark red, viscous liquid was dripping down my front door. It looked like rancid animal blood. The keyhole of my deadbolt was jammed solid with superglue. My key wouldn’t go in. The door was un-lockable from the outside. I just stood there, my stomach churning. 3. I didn’t clean up the mess. I didn’t touch the lock. I just called building management, my voice eerily calm. “Someone vandalized my door with some kind of filth and glued my lock shut. I need you to send someone to deal with it. And I need you to pull the hallway security footage.” The property manager came up himself, his face pale as he took in the scene. “Ms. Miller, this is… this is appalling! We’ll get on the security footage right away!” I nodded, went downstairs, bought a new deadbolt from the hardware store, and called a locksmith to come and drill out the old one. My phone was quiet all afternoon. Just before the end of the workday, the manager called back, his tone strained. “Ms. Miller, we reviewed the footage, but… the person was wearing a hoodie and a face mask. We can’t see their face.” “Which floor did they come from?” I asked. “…Floor 17.” I hung up. The 17th floor. A package I’d ordered arrived. A smart video doorbell, with motion detection and cloud storage. I installed it myself in under thirty minutes. After I was done, I ordered some Thai food and sat on the couch, eating while watching the live feed from my front door on a spare phone. They would be back. I waited for two nights. Nothing happened. The drone didn’t show up either. It was like they’d given up. On the third night, I was reading a book when my phone buzzed. A push notification from the doorbell app. “Motion has been detected at your front door.” I immediately opened the live view. A figure in a black hoodie was creeping toward my door, a small bucket in his hand. Just as I’d expected. He walked right up to my door, started to unscrew the lid of the bucket, and raised it to throw. I pressed the two-way talk button on the app. “Don’t move.” My voice, broadcast from the tiny speaker on the doorbell, wasn’t loud, but it sliced through the silent hallway. The figure froze, sloshing some of the liquid out of the bucket. He looked up in terror at the little doorbell camera. “I’ve got you on video,” I continued, my voice steady. “Turn around, take the stairs, and walk away now, and I can pretend this never happened.” He stood there, hesitating, clearly trying to decide what to do. “You have three seconds. Three… two…” Before I could even say “one,” he dropped the bucket and bolted for the stairwell. I watched him vanish from the frame and saved the video clip. In that one moment he’d looked up, his mask had slipped just enough to reveal the lower half of his face. It was a young face, twisted with malice. 4. I didn’t post the video to the Facebook group. That would only make them more careful next time. I needed a knockout punch. The next day, my internet slowed to a crawl. Videos buffered endlessly, and web pages took forever to load. I called my service provider, and they ran a diagnostic, telling me the line was fine, but that I had an unusual amount of traffic and several unknown devices connected to my network. I logged into my router’s admin panel. Sure enough, the list of connected devices was full of MAC addresses I didn’t recognize. One device name stood out: “LK-Drone-Controller.” LK? It hit me like a ton of bricks. There was only one family on the 17th floor. Apartment 1701. The last time I was in the management office, I had glanced at the resident directory. The owner: Daniel Kirk. His son: Leo Kirk. LK. They had been piggybacking off my Wi-Fi the entire time. Using my own internet to control the drone that was spying on me. No wonder they always knew exactly when I was home. A hot rage burned in my chest. I didn’t change the password. Not yet. I opened my laptop and started Googling. “How to track devices on my Wi-Fi.” “Locate IP address.” “Digital forensics.” It took me a full day, but I figured it out. Using some specialized software, I could capture the data packets being sent by any device on my network. The data was encrypted, but I could see which servers it was communicating with. “LK-Drone-Controller” was constantly pinging a cloud server belonging to a major drone manufacturer. I even found the server’s IP address. I took screenshots of everything—the device name, its MAC address, the server logs—and saved it all. Only after I had my evidence did I go back into my router settings, blacklist “LK-Drone-Controller,” and change my Wi-Fi password. The next morning, I had just gotten out of bed when someone started pounding on my door. I checked the video doorbell feed. It was a middle-aged woman, her face distorted with fury. Leo Kirk’s mom, from 1701. “Open this door! Open up right now! You little psycho, what did you do to our internet?” she shrieked, hammering on the door with her fist. I hit the talk button. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Don’t play dumb with me! My son said it was you! It was working fine yesterday, and now we can’t get online! What is wrong with you?!” She’d just admitted it. I let a small smile touch my lips. “Oh? And how exactly were you getting online, ma’am?” The woman outside my door went silent. “You… what are you talking about! We have our own internet plan!” “Is that right? Well, that’s funny. I was checking my router yesterday and noticed an unauthorized device has been stealing my Wi-Fi for weeks. The device is named ‘LK-Drone-Controller.’ I’ve already filed a police report and gave them the device’s MAC address and all the server data as evidence. They’re going to find out who owns it and what they’ve been doing. Did you know that piggybacking on a secured network is a federal crime?” I heard a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the door. Then, dead silence. A few seconds later, she exploded like a cornered animal. “You’re lying! You bitch, you’re trying to frame my son!” She started kicking the door, screaming every curse word in the book. I didn’t engage further. I muted the microphone, walked calmly to my kitchen, and started making a pot of coffee. Listening to her impotent rage outside my door, I took a sip. For the first time in a long time, my coffee tasted amazing. 5. Leo’s mom raged for another ten minutes before the neighbors and building security finally persuaded her to leave. The world was quiet again. That evening, my power went out. It wasn’t a tripped breaker; my neighbors’ lights were all on. It was just my unit, plunged into darkness. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and checked the circuit breaker box. All the switches were in the ‘on’ position. I called building maintenance. “Ms. Miller, please hold on, we’ll send an electrician up right away.” As I waited, a deep sense of unease settled over me. With the power out, my video doorbell was offline. I was blind to what was happening outside my door. I dragged a heavy armchair and wedged it under the doorknob. Then I heard it. A faint footstep. It stopped right in front of my door. It was followed by a soft, metallic scraping sound. Someone was picking my lock. Every hair on my body stood on end. I held my breath, tiptoed to the door, and pressed my ear against the cold metal. Whoever was out there wasn’t very good at it. They fumbled for a while before I heard a muffled curse. They seemed to give up. Then came a different sound. A soft squelching. They were squirting something into the lock. Glue. They were trying to seal me in. What if there’s a fire? The thought terrified me. I crept to the kitchen and pulled the longest, sharpest chef’s knife from the block. Just then, my phone rang. It was the building electrician. “Ms. Miller? I’m on your floor, but someone’s put a padlock on the utility closet in the hall. I can’t get to the main power box for your unit. Let me go see if I can find a key.” My blood ran cold. They’d locked the utility closet, too. Almost simultaneously, I heard the person outside my door react to the sound of my phone ringing. The footsteps started again, frantic this time, running toward the stairwell. I rushed to the door and peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. I wrenched the door open. The sharp, chemical smell of superglue filled the air. The lock was completely sealed. Down the hall, the door to the utility closet had a heavy-duty U-lock clamped through the handles. They were trying to bury me alive in my own apartment. I stumbled back inside, my back against the door, my heart pounding against my ribs. My phone screen lit up. A text from an unknown number. “Like my gift? This is just the beginning.”

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The day my husband discovered my Rebirth System, wounds began appearing on my body. It wasn’t until I left a glass of milk unfinished that I understood. As dizziness set in, I felt him wheeling me into his sterile, underground operating room. I watched him inject a needle into my vein, murmuring, “She’ll never know I’m taking a little blood.” Then he drove a bone marrow aspirator into my hip. “Just a sample for Willow. To give her a new life. It’s fine.” I struggled against the restraints, a silent scream in my throat. He held me down and plunged a scalpel into my chest, methodically removing my heart. He caressed my agonized face, whispering gently, “Sera, don’t hate me. You can be reborn. But Willow only has one life. Your heart for hers is a worthy trade.” I died and reborn in that room. Six times. A cycle of torment. Until the day he looked at my unblemished skin and said, “Willow loves beauty. I can’t let her live with scars. This is our fault. We owe her this. I promise, this is the last time.” I curled on the cold floor and laughed a hollow, chilling laugh. He didn’t know. Every piece of me he harvested, he traded with a piece of his own soul. 1 The surgical light was a blinding sun. Under its glare, Damian’s long, elegant fingers gripped the scalpel, slicing through the layers of skin and muscle over my chest. White-hot pain exploded through my body, a nova of agony that threatened to swallow me whole. Damian’s eyes were fixed on my heart with a covetous gleam, yet his voice was a lover’s murmur. “Don’t be afraid, Sera. Just close your eyes and sleep. When you wake up, it will all be over.” “Willow’s heart is failing,” he continued, his voice laced with a tragic urgency. “She can’t wait any longer.” Tears I couldn’t control slipped from the corners of my eyes. For the sake of Willow, he was going to kill me. Again. I stared down at the gaping wound, at the flesh peeled back without a single drop of blood, and my whole body trembled. “Damian, you’ve already taken every organ I can spare and given it to her. My heart is all I have left. Without it, I’ll be nothing more than a living corpse. I’m begging you, don’t do this to me. Don’t be so cruel.” A gentle, almost beautiful smile touched his lips. “Sera, I know Willow is your adopted sister, but she grew up with you. Don’t be so selfish.” “You have the gift of rebirth,” he reasoned, his voice calm and hypnotic. “These things… they mean nothing to you. But to Willow? They mean life itself.” I bit my lip so hard I thought it would break, but the pain was nothing compared to the chasm opening in my chest. I couldn’t understand. I would never understand how the man who once treated me like spun glass, who swore he’d never let me feel a moment of pain, could now carve me up piece by piece, over and over again. The truth, of course, was simple. He just didn’t love me that much. My vision swam with unshed tears as I made one last plea. “But I’m made of flesh and blood, Damian. I can still feel pain!” To ensure the “transplant material” was perfect, he never used anesthetic. Every time I died, the agony was absolute. A bone-deep torment that repeated itself every few days. There is no hell, but I was living in it. Damian looked down, and for a moment, his eyes were chips of ice. “Sera, it’s just a little pain. It will be over in a moment. But if Willow dies, she’s gone from this world forever.” His face clouded over, lost in a memory. He leaned against the wall, his voice rising to a tortured cry. “Willow loved me, but I chose you. If we hadn’t gotten together, she never would have been so heartbroken, never would have gone out drinking that night. That fire… it never would have happened.” “When they pulled her out, her organs were failing. We did this to her, Sera! We’re the ones who destroyed her!” The absurdity of it almost made me laugh. He was one of a dozen men who orbited Willow, yet he’d cast himself as the tragic hero of her unrequited love story. The fire? Willow had been partying with a group of shady guys, came home high as a kite, and set the fire herself. She had minor burns, nothing close to organ failure. These were basic facts, things even I knew. There was no way Damian, a world-class surgeon, didn’t know the truth. He simply chose not to. Because in his heart, Willow mattered more. So he sacrificed me on the altar of his belated, manufactured love. He came back to my side, his expression shifting back to its usual placid warmth. He even leaned down and pressed a kiss to my sweat-drenched forehead. “I’m sorry I yelled, Sera.” “Be a good girl now. Close your eyes. It will be quick.” My eyes widened in terror as he reached into the cavity of my chest. His hands closed around my heart, and with a sickening, final twist, he pulled. My body felt like it was being torn in two. I convulsed on the table, a scream ripping through the sterile air as sweat and tears streamed down my face. The familiar suffocation returned, an invisible hand closing around my throat, squeezing the life from me. My vision blurred. My lungs burned for air. Through the haze, I saw Damian place my heart into a sterile container, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. He left nothing but a black, gaping hole where my life used to be. My sight faded to black. Just before the end, I thought I heard him on the phone. “Willow, don’t you worry. I’m going to give you the most perfect gift.” I tried to speak, to scream, to curse his name, but no sound came. Darkness consumed me. And then, a cold, mechanical voice, the System that had long been dormant inside me, finally spoke. “You bound yourself to me to save his life once. Was it worth it?” 2 I don’t know how much time passed. When I opened my eyes again, Damian was standing over me, meticulously stitching the wound on my chest closed. His technique was flawless, the sutures perfect. The pain was gone, replaced by a hollow numbness where my heart should have been. He gently wiped the few stray smudges from my skin and lifted me into his arms. “It’s over, Sera. It’s all over. Let’s go home.” His voice was soft, reassuring. “Willow is being discharged today. She’ll be so happy to see you.” My eyes were swollen and raw. A stiff, dead smile spread across my face. Home? I didn’t have a home. The beautiful house that once held the warmth of our life together was now his and Willow’s love nest. I tried to twist away, but he held me firmly in the passenger seat of the car. “Behave,” he commanded softly. I was too weak to fight. I let him drive me back to that place. As we walked in, Willow emerged, her face partially hidden by a silk scarf. “Sister,” she said, her voice frail. “I’ve missed you so much.” I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. I just stared at my own feet. Damian’s finger jabbed into my freshly stitched wound. “Seraphina.” Pain flared, and I crumpled to the floor. Instantly, he was all concern, scooping me up, his hands checking me over with frantic care. “Sera, are you hurt? Did you fall?” That single, hypocritical question made all the humiliation, all the agony, curdle into a toxic knot in my gut. I was broken. Damian sighed and turned to Willow, stroking her cheek. “Willow, why don’t you go rest. I need to prepare your gift.” Willow cast a timid, fearful glance at me before turning and disappearing down the hall. Damian carried me to a room I’d never seen before, a room locked from the outside. The air was thick with the suffocating smell of bitter herbs. He lifted the heavy lid off a massive wooden tub. “In you go, Sera,” he whispered in my ear. I looked down into the tub, and a bloodcurdling scream tore from my throat. It was filled with a writhing, slithering mass of venomous creatures. Snakes, spiders, centipedes… a tangled knot of fangs and pincers, all biting and crawling over each other. I shook so violently I thought my bones would shatter, my face as white as a sheet. The dim light cast his face in haunting shadows. He stepped closer. “Sera, don’t be afraid.” His voice was a soothing balm over a festering wound. “This is a special treatment. An ancient, forbidden ritual. It’s the only way to heal your scars.” “Once you endure this,” he promised, “your skin will be reborn. Perfect.” A wave of nausea and cold dread washed over me. I stumbled back. “So… you’re waiting for my skin to become perfect… so you can graft it onto Willow?” Damian nodded, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. I fought back the terror, the rage, and my voice came out as a bitter sneer. “Why go to all this trouble? If it’s such a great method, why not let Willow try it herself?” He shook his head, his expression earnest and pleading. “Don’t say such things, Sera.” “It’s a tub full of poison. How could Willow possibly endure such agony?” He took my hand and placed it over his own heart. “But you’re different. My Sera is strong. You’ve survived losing your heart, your kidneys. What’s a little more pain?” His lips were at my ear, his whisper a hypnotic poison. “Please, Sera. I’m begging you.” “I swear to you, this is the last time. I just want to give Willow the most perfect twentieth birthday gift.” I stood frozen, the empty space in my chest throbbing with a phantom pain, as if poison thorns were growing from the inside out. My lips trembled, but no more tears would come. “Damian, Willow is flesh and blood, but so am I!” My voice was a raw, broken thing. “I don’t die, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel pain!” “You’ve given her everything that was mine. Now you want to peel off my very skin? How can you be so monstrously cruel?” A crushing weight settled on my chest, and I collapsed. “Willow’s accident has nothing to do with me. I won’t give her anything else.” I looked at him, my eyes bloodshot, a final plea in my voice. “This isn’t for me, Damian. It’s for you.” “If I die at your hands a seventh time, the System will initiate a settlement. A final accounting. You will pay a price you cannot even imagine.” 3 Damian stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, a faint, condescending smile touched his lips. “Oh, Sera. You’re not behaving. To think you’d invent such a ridiculous story just to avoid helping Willow.” “If you insist on being difficult,” he sighed, “then I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you.” He pressed a button on the wall, and a moment later, a servant led a dog into the room. My breath caught in my throat. “Goldie!” The old golden retriever caught my scent, his tail thumping wildly as he tried to run to me, but Damian held him fast. Damian stroked the dog’s head, his voice soft with regret. “If it wasn’t for Willow, I would never dream of hurting him. Goldie has been with you since you were a child. He’s family.” “But if you refuse…” His gentle eyes suddenly hardened into flint. In one swift, brutal motion, he brought a knife down. One of Goldie’s ears fell to the floor. The dog let out a piercing shriek of pain and confusion, blood matting his golden fur. He had never imagined his master, his loyal companion, could do such a thing. “NO!” My scream merged with Goldie’s agonized cries. “Damian, what have you become?! Have you forgotten? During the earthquake, when you were buried in the rubble, it was Goldie who dug you out! He shredded his paws to save you! How can you treat him like this? You’re a monster!” A flicker of something—pity, perhaps—crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “If you weren’t being so stubborn, Goldie would be living out his days in peace. The one causing his pain right now… isn’t that you?” His shameless logic stole the air from my lungs. “Don’t you understand? I’m trying to save you!” “If you force me to die a seventh time, you will regret it for all eternity!” He just shook his head, idly flipping the bloody knife in his hand. “All I want is to grant Willow one wish. I will regret nothing, no matter the cost.” And with that, he plunged the knife into Goldie’s eye. Another horrifying scream echoed in the small room. A thick, red tear trickled down the dog’s face. I stood paralyzed, hate growing inside me like a cancer, a black and living thing. “Still not convinced?” Damian sighed, and drove the knife into Goldie’s other eye. “Stop! Please, stop!” I sobbed, crawling to Goldie’s side. Damian’s voice was flat, clinical. “Don’t forget, I’m the best surgeon in the world. I know ten thousand ways to keep him alive in excruciating pain.” I pulled the trembling, bleeding dog into my arms, holding him tight. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice dead. “I’ll do it.” Then, I closed my eyes and stepped into the tub. Damian let out a breath of relief and sealed the lid shut. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, Sera.” In the suffocating darkness, the creatures sensed my warmth. They swarmed over me, their fangs and stingers sinking into my flesh. This was a new kind of pain. Worse than being flayed, worse than being dismembered. It was a searing, soul-shredding agony. My head felt like it was splitting open as their venom flooded my system, a million needles driving straight into my marrow. Outside, the blind dog could only hear my muffled screams. He hurled himself against the wooden tub, biting and clawing at it, trying desperately to save me. It was useless. As the pain reached an unbearable crescendo, I closed my eyes for the last time.

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I am the Arbiter of Hollywood. I decide who becomes a legend and who becomes a ghost. Ascension or annihilation—it all comes down to my judgment. Based on a nationwide vote, five of the biggest names in the industry will be brought before my tribunal. And I, Cassandra Stone, will pass sentence on a live broadcast for the entire country to see. Those who pass my judgment will ascend to a new stratosphere of fame. Those who fail… die. 1 The decennial Reckoning is about to begin. Five celebrities, chosen by the American public, sit before the tribunal table. The moment the broadcast goes live, the energy in the studio—and online—crackles. 【Our king, Liam Davenport, has been waiting for this day since his debut. He’s the definition of a law-abiding, good man. A 26-year-old saint who’s never even had an on-screen kiss. What could he possibly have done wrong?】 【OMG, I spent ten straight days voting to get Dylan Shaw into the top five. Hubby, you better not let me down!】 【To the user above, your ‘hubby’ might not be thanking you lmao. I didn’t dare vote for my fave. The list of shady shit he’s done is longer than my arm.】 【Smart move. Not only did I not vote for my guy, I coordinated with other fanbases to vote our rival, Noah Evans, into the top five. Can’t wait to watch him get torn to shreds tonight!】 A voice, deep and authoritative, echoes from above the tribunal stage. “This Reckoning will be conducted with fairness, impartiality, and total transparency, broadcast live for all citizens.” “The public is invited to scrutinize every moment. Should any evidence of tampering be found, the Arbiter will die on the spot.” 【DAYUM, they’re really raising the stakes this time.】 【Wait? So if they fail, my fave is actually gonna die? I shouldn’t have voted for him…】 【You really think they’ll kill him? It’s just a publicity stunt to get ratings.】 【Do you newbies even do your homework? At the last Reckoning, ten years ago… no one survived.】 Amidst the storm of online chatter, I walk from the wings to center stage. “Good evening. I am your Arbiter, Cassandra Stone.” My voice cuts through the noise. “The Reckoning… begins now.” 2 I look at the five celebrities seated before me, and begin to announce their names in order of votes received. “First, by popular vote, with three hundred and ninety-two million votes… Liam Davenport.” I lift my eyes to the man in the first seat. His expression is placid, radiating a cool, aristocratic calm. He seems utterly unconcerned by the proceedings. The cameras zoom in for a close-up, and the internet ignites. 【My man! Stay strong! Tonight, you ascend!】 【Seriously, look at that self-control. Does he look like a man who’s ever been touched?】 【Liam has been in the business for six years and has never even filmed a kissing scene. If he has a scandal, I’ll eat my own shoes!】 My gaze returns to my docket. “Second, with two hundred and sixty-four million votes… Dylan Shaw.” Dylan Shaw is not nearly so composed. A fine sheen of sweat beads on his forehead, and a tremor runs through his body. As the camera finds him, the comment section erupts again. 【Well, we know who’s dying first. Dylan Shaw, it’s been real.】 【WAIT! I remember Dylan telling our fan club not to vote for him! He said he wasn’t ready to ascend so quickly. You guys just don’t listen!】 【I’m crying! I thought he was just being humble!】 【Well, he’s not ascending now. More like descending… straight to hell.】 【Congrats to our Liam, one less competitor to worry about!】 I continue. “Third, with one hundred and eighty-nine million votes… Victoria Blackwood.” As I look up, my eyes meet Victoria’s. They are stunningly beautiful and sharp as glass. 【Sorry boys, but our queen’s ascension is locked in.】 【Step aside, you disgusting men. If you can’t keep it in your pants, you deserve to die.】 【Our Victoria has zero scandals, zero bad press. A true career-driven icon. The entire industry could burn down, and Victoria would still be standing.】 “Fourth, with one hundred and thirty-two million votes… Marcus Cole.” 【Marcus Cole? Didn’t he retire to work behind the scenes?】 【WTF, is this rigged? How does a guy who left the spotlight years ago get voted in?】 【Are there any Marcus Cole fans watching? I’m getting a little scared.】 【This has to be a setup. They’re all here to make Liam Davenport look good. Four sacrificial lambs. I see how it is.】 “And fifth, with ninety-eight million votes… Noah Evans.” 【??? Noah Evans got that many votes?】 【Okay, I was wrong before. Dylan dies second. Noah’s going first.】 【Noah dated that Oscar-winner and even proposed. She ghosted him, LOL.】 【Please, stop being so hateful. An actor dating isn’t a career-ending scandal.】 【Noah Evans is an actor? Your delusions are showing, honey.】 【Who the hell even voted for him? We, his actual fans, never participate in these things!】 【I didn’t even know where the voting was. Then I wake up this morning, see the headlines, and boom, Noah’s at the Reckoning.】 【Noah, you better not have done anything shady behind our backs. If you have, I’m out of here so fast.】 【To all you Noah Evans fans… I’m praying for you.】 3 Once the studio falls silent, my voice rings out again. “This Reckoning will consist of five rounds. The themes of the trials are: Lust, Greed, Envy, Pride, and Wrath.” “After each round, those who fail will face their punishment. Those who pass will proceed to the next trial.” I reach for a deck of cards resting on my lectern. “The cards will now be dealt.” I deal one card to each of them. After the fifth card is placed, I give them a nod. They can look. Their expressions shift, each one a different shade of dread or relief. “The theme of the first trial is: Lust.” “You will reveal your cards, one by one.” Liam Davenport is the picture of composure. The moment I finish speaking, he flips his card over. Instantly, every camera focuses on its surface. 【It’s blank? There’s nothing on it.】 【Did they give him the wrong card? The production team is so unprofessional. Major points deducted!】 【Doesn’t blank just mean… nothing? To the people saying it’s a mistake, maybe try reading a book sometime.】 【I’m literally weeping! Liam is so pure. I can’t imagine who will ever be worthy of him.】 As the debate rages, Dylan Shaw raises a trembling hand. “Can they go first? My stomach… I really need to use the restroom.” I nod, granting him permission. As soon as Dylan leaves the stage, Marcus Cole flips his own card. On its surface is a single digit: 1. 【What does 1 mean? One woman?】 【Marcus is married. The 1 must be for his wife.】 【Totally normal. If a guy in his thirties didn’t have a wife, you’d have to start worrying if the ‘wife’ was a dude.】 Victoria Blackwood reveals her card next. It’s blank, just like Liam’s. Now, all eyes turn to Noah Evans. He blinks slowly, his hesitation evident in the way his fingers hover over the card. Finally, he flips it. 【What? 3?】 【Scandal! But a minor one. No one’s getting cancelled over this.】 【He was only ever linked to that Oscar-winner! Who are the other two?】 【I’ll say it a million times! Actors are allowed to have a love life!】 【Where is Dylan? He’s the only one left. Did he make a run for it?】 【Dylan! I’m skipping work to watch this! My boss is gonna kill me! Get back here before he makes me log off!】 Dylan Shaw does not return. After five minutes, the authoritative voice resounds from above. “The cards have been revealed. Arbiter, deliver your judgment.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. I reach over and pick up the card belonging to Dylan Shaw, holding it up for the cameras. Two words, printed in bold, black letters, stun the audience into silence. MULTIPLE PARTNERS 【Multiple… partners?】 【What does that mean? Like… group stuff?】 【I knew Dylan had a girlfriend on the side, but I didn’t realize he had so many ‘girlfriends’…】 【Dylan, while I was losing sleep over the hate you were getting, who were you sleeping with?】 【Is this for real? But he’s not even here anymore. He’s probably on a private jet to a non-extradition country by now. How can they catch him?】 How can they catch him? An excellent question. Once my judgment is given, as long as he is alive, no matter where he runs, he will be brought back before this tribunal to face his sentence. I lower the card and my voice becomes steel. “The judgment for the first trial is now declared.” “Dylan Shaw is eliminated. The other four will proceed to the next round.” In a flash, Dylan is ripped from wherever he was by an unseen force and slammed back into his chair. His eyes are wide with terror. He tries to stand, but finds himself paralyzed. “How did I get back here? What did you do to me?” Dylan’s voice cracks, rising to a panicked shriek. “I’m done with this game! Those cards are bullshit! I never did anything like that! This is a sham trial!” “Setting up this whole goddamn circus, dragging me out of my bed this morning… what studio is behind this? I’ll sue you into oblivion! Especially you!” He points a shaking finger at me. “Cassandra Stone, right? I’ll see you in a prison cell tomorrow!” I ignore his tirade, proceeding as ordained. “We will now extract the memories of the accused, Dylan Shaw.” “The memories will be broadcast directly. Please prepare. The feed will switch in three seconds.” Three. Two. One. The screen changes. Dylan Shaw is on a hotel sofa. Kneeling before him is a young woman, her clothes torn. Just that one image sends the live chat into a frenzy. 【That’s Lily Hayes! She just got into the national film academy! She’s still a student! Dylan Shaw, you bastard!】 【I’m so fucking angry! Dylan once gave a speech at a premiere about protecting young actresses from predators, and this is what he does behind closed doors?】 【Dylan Shaw, you make me sick.】 The memory continues. The girl looks up, tears streaming down her face. “You promised. You said if I slept with you for one night, you wouldn’t recast my role. Is that still true?” Dylan lights a cigarette. He reaches out and rips away the last of her clothing. “That was yesterday’s offer.” He leans close to her ear, his voice a venomous whisper. “Today’s offer is… you sleep with us.” The girl’s eyes widen in horror. She scrambles backward. Dylan smirks, a vile, predatory expression. He glances toward the bedroom door. “Come on out, boys.” The scene that follows is too horrific for broadcast. To protect the victim, the visuals are blacked out, but the audio remains. “Help me! Somebody, help!” “Please, just let me go, I’m begging you.” “I don’t want the role anymore. I don’t want anything. Just let me leave.” “I promise, I’ll never tell anyone what happened here.” “Please… just let me go… please?” … Lily Hayes’s pleas echo through the silent studio. The audience is stunned. The live chat is blank. After what feels like an eternity, the audio fades and a new image appears on screen. It’s a video, recorded on a phone. “Hi, everyone. I’m Lily Hayes. I’m so sorry you have to see me like this.” Her voice is shaky, but resolute. “This is… incredibly difficult to talk about. But I have to stand up today, for all the other women who have been hurt.” “My name is Lily Hayes, and I am officially reporting that the actor Dylan Shaw has repeatedly coerced and assaulted aspiring actresses. He, and… and his associates.” “I have compiled a list of everyone involved. By the time you see this video, I will have turned all of this information over to the police. I trust they will handle the others.” “As for Dylan Shaw… I leave him to Cassandra Stone.” The video ends. The audience is still processing the horror. The authoritative voice returns. “The accused, Dylan Shaw, has failed the trial. Arbiter… deliver the punishment.” I raise my hand. A gleaming knife materializes in my fingers and flies from my grasp. It strikes Dylan Shaw squarely in the chest with unerring accuracy. The force of the impact throws him backward, slamming him against the massive pillar at the center of the stage—the Pillar of Shame. He is pinned there, impaled but not dead. Not yet. He is, however, in agony. My blade has a unique property. It forces the condemned to experience the full measure of their victims’ pain. From this moment on, every second for Dylan Shaw will be a reliving of the terror and agony of Lily Hayes and all the others. 4 With Dylan Shaw’s punishment delivered, I turn to the four remaining celebrities, their faces pale with shock. I offer them a faint smile. “The second trial will now begin.” I deal the cards, one to each of them. “The theme of the second trial is: Greed.” “Please, reveal your cards.” This time, there is no hesitation. As if bound by a silent agreement, they all flip their cards simultaneously. I scan the table. And I see… Four blank cards. I freeze. This is not how it’s supposed to happen. This is wrong. The audience notices immediately. 【What? No one gets eliminated in the second round?】 【Rigged! This is absolutely rigged!】 【Did you see Cassandra Stone’s face? She looks shocked. Does this mean even the Arbiter didn’t expect this?】 【Holy crap! The system broke!】 No, no. This can’t be. According to the docket, this round was meant for Marcus Cole. The charge: tax evasion. So why is his card blank? The voice from above repeats its command. “The cards have been revealed. Arbiter, deliver your judgment.” This is my first Reckoning since inheriting the role from my father. I prepared for months, memorized every procedure until it was second nature. There is no protocol for four blank cards. I stand motionless, the gears in my mind grinding, unable to deliver a judgment. “The cards have been revealed. Arbiter, deliver your judgment,” the voice insists, its tone hardening. I take a deep breath, my mind clearing, my decision made. “I request permission to extract the memory of Marcus Cole before delivering judgment.” My declaration sends Marcus’s dormant fanbase into an uproar. 【What is this Arbiter doing? His card is blank! Why is she targeting him?】 【Did your producers even do a background check? Do you know how much charity work Marcus Cole has done? The man is the furthest thing from greedy!】 【Why not pull their memories? Oh, right, because Marcus retired you think you can just pick on him?】 【I’m filing a complaint! This is a setup! The Arbiter must die!】 【I agree! I want to see Cassandra Stone die on the spot!】 After a few tense seconds, the voice returns. “Arbiter Cassandra Stone, are you certain you wish to extract the memory of Marcus Cole?” “If you accuse an innocent, it will be considered a false judgment. You will die where you stand.” My voice does not waver. “I am certain.” “The extraction will now begin. The memory of the accused, Marcus Cole, will be broadcast. Prepare for transfer in three… two… one.” The feed switches. The first image is a gut punch. Marcus Cole is throwing punch after punch at a woman curled into a ball on a sofa. The comments start flooding in. 【Is that…? Domestic violence? Is that his wife?】 【He wouldn’t do that for no reason. She must have done something to push him over the edge, right?】 【I agree. I’m a woman, but some women just ask for it.】 In the memory, Marcus, his rage spent, slumps to the floor. He sits there for a long time before reaching for the woman again. Just as the audience braces for another assault, he pulls her into a tight, desperate hug. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I… I lost control.” “I saw you talking to that man today, and I just… I got so angry.” “Please, forgive me. I only did it because I love you so much.” “I’m sorry. I promise I will never, ever hit you again.” The chat shifts again. 【See? I told you. She must have done something. Sounds like she was cheating.】 【Talking to that man? She was definitely having an affair!】 【Then she deserved it!】 The next second, the woman lifts her bruised and battered face. “But… I was just at the pharmacy. I only asked the pharmacist a question.” 【Holy shit. Not an affair. She just went to buy medicine and spoke to a male employee? That’s insane.】 【The dark ages called, they want their misogyny back.】 Marcus seems to ignite again. He lunges, his hands closing around her throat, the veins in his arms bulging with effort. “Couldn’t you have found a female pharmacist to talk to?” he seethes. “Did you think he was handsome? Did you want to sleep with him?” The woman claws at his wrists, but his grip is iron. Her face turns a deep, terrifying red, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. “No…” she chokes out. “I just… needed medicine.” 【Why aren’t you fighting back? Get up and hit him!】 【God, this woman is pathetic. Why doesn’t she do something?】 【You people typing from your comfy chairs are unbelievable. The physical power disparity between men and women is a biological fact. You can’t even stand up to your boss for making you work overtime, but you expect a woman to fight back against a violent abuser? The only one who deserves blame here is the monster hurting her!】 【Exactly! He’s the one projecting his own sick fantasies onto her.】 Just as her breath gives out, Marcus releases his grip. He cups her face gently, placing a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. “Sweetheart, as long as you promise not to talk to other men, I’ll be good to you. I promise.” “Today is over. We’ll just move on, okay? We’ll be happy.” “The kids will be home from school soon. Why don’t you go start dinner? And after we eat, I’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out. How does that sound?” “Honey, I love you so, so much.” The memory extraction ends. A wave of outrage and disgust rolls through the studio audience. Onstage, Marcus Cole remains oddly calm. He spreads his hands, shrugging. “I admit, I have hit my wife. But what does domestic violence have to do with the theme of this trial? This is a private family matter. There’s no need to blow it out of proportion, is there?” A cold smile touches my lips. “Domestic violence has nothing to do with this trial.” “Because you… are not Marcus Cole.” 【What? Does this Arbiter even know what she’s saying?】 【LMAO. I’ve been a fan of Marcus Cole for a decade. I’ll believe he’s an abuser, but that he’s not Marcus Cole? That’s hilarious.】 【I’m literally speechless. She’s lost her mind.】 I ignore the noise and deliver my verdict. “The judgment for the second trial is now declared.” “Marcus Cole is eliminated. The other three will proceed to the next round.” As the words leave my mouth, a figure drops from the ceiling, landing hard on the stage. He has the exact same face as the man in the chair, the same build. The audience is stunned into silence. 【What is happening? There are two of them?】 【WTF? Is human cloning a thing now?】 【Mom, I think I’m seeing ghosts! Somebody post a prayer circle, quick!】 The man who had been posing as Marcus stands up. He looks at the real Marcus Cole, now bound and trembling, and sighs heavily. “Brother, I really did my best.” “This Reckoning… it’s beyond our control. It seems fate has decided your time is up.” 【Oh my god, my brain just broke. They’re twins?】 【One is trash and the other is garbage. What a pair.】 Yes. I don’t know where the screening process failed, but the man who arrived today was not Marcus Cole, but his identical twin brother, Cormac Cole. That explains the blank card and the memory that didn’t match the trial’s theme. I raise a hand, and the blank card zips through the air, stopping directly in front of the real Marcus Cole’s chest. As it hovers there, numbers bleed onto its surface, black as ink. 134,898,479.00 【One hundred and thirty-four million, eight hundred ninety-eight thousand…】 【Is that… tax evasion? Is that the amount he owes?】 【My god. I couldn’t earn that much in a hundred lifetimes.】 【And I’m officially no longer a fan. I always wondered why he suddenly retired. Now we know. He couldn’t stand the scrutiny.】 【I don’t believe it! I’ve been a fan for ten years! Unless you show me hard proof, I won’t believe a number on a magic card!】 Seeing the denial in the live chat, a low chuckle escapes me. “You want proof?” “We will now extract the memories of the accused, Marcus Cole.” As image after image of falsified contracts and offshore accounts flashes across the screen, the last of his loyal fans fall silent, their posts turning from defense to declarations of disgust and betrayal. When quiet is restored, Marcus Cole is hanging on the Pillar of Shame next to Dylan Shaw. His eyes are fixed on me, burning with a hatred so intense it feels like he wants to devour me whole. He will not get the chance. I turn my attention to his brother, Cormac. “Today’s Reckoning does not concern you, so…” “So I can go?” he interrupts, a flicker of hopeful relief in his eyes. I shake my head slowly. “No. So I will be turning you over to the proper authorities. They will conduct a trial of their own.” Cormac’s face falls. He opens his mouth to protest, but security guards are already on him, pinning his arms and escorting him offstage. 5 Two rounds down. Three celebrities remain. I return to my lectern and look at the trio. “The third trial will now begin.” I deal the cards. After the last one is placed, I announce the theme. “The third trial is: Envy.” “Please, reveal your cards.” Liam Davenport seems to have grown confident, almost arrogant. He flips his card before I’ve even finished the sentence. 【Blank again? My god! Liam, you were born for this! You deserve all the fame!】 【That card flip was so hot. I swear, anyone who doesn’t get Liam’s appeal is dead inside.】 【I knew I picked the right one! Liam Davenport, the chosen one!】 【Look! Noah’s card is blank too!】 【What! Noah is also clear? Then… that means Victoria Blackwood is the one who failed?】 【Wait, what? Victoria is envious? Who would she possibly be envious of? Victoria Blackwood doesn’t feel envy, she inspires it. This is a joke.】 【I’m saying it again. This is all just a show to prop up Liam Davenport.】 With two blank cards revealed, every person in the studio and every viewer at home is waiting for Victoria Blackwood. I fix my gaze on her. Her hand is shaking. “Victoria. What are you waiting for?” “Reveal your card.” She looks up at me, her face a ghastly white. “How could you possibly know about this? No one knows. No one except…” Her words trail off. Her eyes dart to Liam in the first seat. A sudden, violent rage contorts her features. She snatches her card and flings it at him. “Was it you? Did you sell me out to win this thing?” she screams. “Liam, you spineless coward! You betrayed me! I hope you burn in hell!” Liam flinches, startled. He stoops to pick up the card from the floor. The camera zooms in, and the name written on it becomes clear to all. LILY HAYES

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