Category: English

I was eight months pregnant when my parents, who had always favored my sister, invited me over for dinner. It was the first time in years I had felt a glimmer of their warmth. That was the night of the fire. When the smoke detectors shrieked and the flames began to lick at the doorframes, their instincts were instantaneous. They shoved me aside, my swollen belly a clumsy obstacle, and grabbed my sister, Chloe—the one with leukemia, the one who had always been the sun in their universe. They carried her out into the night, leaving me behind in the suffocating heat. I was sure I was going to die. But then my husband, Ethan, burst through the wall of smoke. He swept me into his arms without a moment’s hesitation, his body shielding mine as he carried me to safety. The burns blistering his own skin didn’t seem to register. His eyes, full of a desperate tenderness I’d craved my whole life, were only for me. “Ava, you’re pregnant,” he’d whispered, his voice hoarse from the smoke as paramedics worked on us. “If anything happened to the baby… to you… I don’t know what I’d do.” In that moment, I believed I had finally found the one person who would choose me. Who truly loved me. That belief shattered when I saw the text exchange between him and Chloe on his unlocked phone. Chloe: I can’t wait much longer, E. Ethan: Just hold on, my love. A little more time. Once she has the baby and we get the cord blood, I can finally save you. My world tilted on its axis. The air left my lungs. Without a second thought, I pulled out my own phone, my fingers numb as I dialed the number for the women’s clinic. “Hello,” I said, my voice a dead, hollow thing. “I need to schedule an abortion.” 1 I had just tucked the clinic’s appointment confirmation slip into my purse when I saw them. Ethan was walking down the hospital corridor toward me, his arm wrapped protectively around my sister, Chloe, guiding her toward the oncology wing for a check-up. He stopped short when he saw me. “Ava? Honey, what are you doing here? I thought your next prenatal wasn’t until next week.” Ethan’s gaze dropped instantly to my stomach, his face a mask of anxiety. I used to mistake that frantic energy for love, for a fierce, protective instinct. Now I saw it for what it was: a man checking on his investment. “I just felt a little off,” I lied smoothly. “Decided to come get it checked out.” His panic sharpened. “Off how? What’s wrong? What did the doctor say? Is the baby okay? Did you get the results yet?” He rushed to my side, his hand hovering over my belly, his eyes wide with a carefully crafted concern. Chloe, however, couldn’t be bothered with the performance. She shot me a glare filled with pure contempt. “Can’t you do one thing right? Honestly, what’s the point of you if you can’t even carry a baby properly? If anything happens to what’s in there, I swear to God, Ava, I’ll make you pay.” I ignored her, pulling the ultrasound printout from my bag and handing it to Ethan. “Everything’s fine. The baby is perfectly healthy.” The relief that washed over his face was profound. He finally exhaled. “Oh, thank God. Okay, good. You should go home and rest, then. Chloe still has a few more tests, so I’ll stay with her and be back later.” His other hand, the one not reaching for me, had never once left Chloe’s arm. I used to explain away his constant, hovering attention on my sister as a kind of misguided brotherly affection, an extension of his love for me. Love the house, love the mouse. How naive I’d been. I never imagined their plan was this monstrous. As they walked away, a cold impulse took over. I followed them. I watched them disappear into the office of the Head of Hematology—an office that belonged to my father. “We can’t wait any longer,” Ethan’s voice was tight with urgency, even muffled through the door. “Chloe’s getting worse.” “Just a little more time,” my father’s voice rumbled. “Two months at most. Once Ava gives birth, we’ll have the cord blood, and Chloe will be saved.” “She might not have a month! We have to do the surgery now.” “Then we induce her now,” a new voice said, sharp and decisive. A figure stepped out from a corner of the office, and my blood ran cold. It was my mother, an OB/GYN at this very hospital. A thousand tiny blades seemed to plunge into my chest, stealing my breath. They were all in on it. All of them. And I had foolishly, desperately believed that my pregnancy had finally earned me a place in my parents’ hearts. “But the baby’s only at eight months,” Ethan said, a flicker of something—hesitation? concern?—in his voice. “If we take it out now, will it be… okay?” My mother’s face, visible through the crack in the door, was a granite slab of impatience. “Chloe’s life is the only thing that matters right now. Everything else is secondary.” I stared at the woman who had carried me for nine months, and my heart felt like it was being torn in two. Chloe leaned into Ethan’s embrace, her voice a sickly sweet murmur. “Ethan, honey, you seem so worried about her baby. You’re not getting attached to her, are you?” He immediately pulled her tighter, his voice dropping to a fierce whisper I could still just barely hear. “Never. Don’t ever think that. I only married her to get you this cure. To use her body to grow the medicine you need. The second that baby is out of her, she’s worthless to me.” Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. My hand was clenched so tightly around the small packet of pills the clinic had given me that my knuckles were white. I lifted my head, my resolve hardening into something cold and sharp. Without another thought, I tossed the pill into my mouth and swallowed it dry. Back home, I took out the divorce papers Ethan had signed as a “show of faith” before our wedding—a document I’d never intended to use. I signed my name, dated it, and locked it in the safe. I had just started to pack a bag when the front door flew open with such force it slammed against the wall. I flinched, my heart seizing in my chest. Ethan strode in, his face grim. He grabbed my arm, his grip like a vise. “Ava. The doctor just called me. They reviewed your chart again. The baby’s in distress. We have to go back to the hospital. Now.” I tried to pull my arm away, but his fingers dug in, bruising the bone. My wrist was already turning red. “No. The doctor told me, to my face, that the baby was fine. And why would they call you instead of me?” His eyes were bloodshot, a wild desperation lurking in their depths. “It was a last-minute consult! Your mother called me herself. You don’t trust me, fine. But you trust your own mother, don’t you?” On cue, my parents walked through the open door. My mother’s face was a cold mask of disapproval. “This is your own fault for not being careful enough. You’ve upset the baby’s balance. We’re going to the hospital.” My father chimed in, his voice oozing false reason. “Your mother is a respected obstetrician, Ava. Are you really going to question her medical opinion?” My free hand shot out, gripping the bedroom doorknob like a lifeline. “I’m not going. It’s late. We can go tomorrow. I feel fine. Nothing is wrong.” My mother’s face twisted in fury. She marched over and began prying my fingers from the knob, one by one. “You’ll do as you’re told! Why must you be so difficult? I’m your mother! Do you think I would ever hurt you?” Yes, I screamed in my head. You have my whole life. They had shipped me off to live with my grandparents in the countryside as a baby, only deigning to bring me into their home after my grandparents passed away and the village council forced their hand. I’d spent my entire life wondering what was so wrong with me that my own parents couldn’t love me. I held on with every ounce of strength I had. My mother couldn’t break my grip. CRACK. The sound of her palm connecting with my cheek echoed in the room. “You are going to the hospital right now,” she hissed, her face inches from mine. “If you delay this and Chloe doesn’t make it, I will never, ever forgive you.” Half of my face was numb, the other half blazing with pain. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “There it is. The truth finally comes out.” She didn’t even flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only know that your body is no longer a viable environment for this pregnancy. It’s a happy coincidence that your sister needs the cord blood right now.” My father, seeing I still wouldn’t budge, joined the effort. “Ava, you were always the sensible one. Your sister needs you. Please, just do this for us. For your mother and me.” He was trying to play the family card. I turned my head and spat on the floor by his feet. “Stop pretending. Her life is a life, but mine isn’t? Forcing a C-section at eight months is dangerous. I could die.” Seeing his emotional appeal fail, my father’s face contorted with rage. He slapped my other cheek, just as hard. “You ungrateful brat! That’s your sister! Sacrificing one baby to save her is a noble thing to do. It’s not like you can’t have another one.” Ethan dropped all pretense. He lunged forward, his hand clamping around my throat. “Enough of this. Chloe collapsed this afternoon. She’s waiting for this cord blood to save her life. You’re going to that hospital, one way or another.” “Ethan, it’s your baby!” I choked out, clawing at his hand. His eyes were chips of ice. “If my offspring can save Chloe, then that is its honor. Its sole purpose for existing. Otherwise, a woman like you would never have been worthy of carrying my child in the first place.” Staring into his cold, dead eyes was like falling into an abyss. “Dad, Mom, let’s stop wasting time,” Ethan said, his voice flat. “Chloe can’t wait. Let’s just tie her up and take her.” He found a length of rope in a utility closet. With my parents holding me down, he bound my hands tightly behind my back. “Move,” my mother snarled, shoving me toward the door. I dug my heels in, hooking my foot around the doorframe. Ethan let out a roar of frustration and kicked my leg, hard. “If we’re too late because of you, Ava, I will personally see to it that you pay with your life.” The force of the kick sent me sprawling to my knees. A searing pain shot up my leg, and a vicious cramp seized my abdomen. I cried out, tears of pain blurring my vision. “Be careful!” my mother snapped at Ethan. “Watch the belly! Hit her face, I don’t care, but you can’t damage the merchandise.” Ethan nodded grimly. He and my father hauled me to my feet like a sack of grain and began dragging me toward the elevator. The elevator doors slid open. A tall, well-built man was stepping out. I knew him. Officer Miller, from next door. He’d helped me once when my car was broken into. Hope, bright and blinding, flared in my chest. “Help—” Before I could get the word out, my mother’s hand clamped over my mouth. “Oh, sweetie, feeling nauseous again? Don’t worry, Mommy’s taking you to the hospital right now.” Officer Miller looked at the scene, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Is everything alright here?” “My wife,” Ethan said, his voice impossibly calm. “She’s not feeling well. We think she might be going into labor, so we’re rushing her to the hospital.” My hands were bound behind me, Ethan’s grip a crushing pressure on my wrist to keep me still. I could do nothing but stare at Officer Miller, pouring every ounce of my desperation into my eyes. “I’m an OB/GYN,” my mother added, pulling her hospital ID from her purse with a practiced motion. “It’s my daughter. She’s about to give birth. We can’t waste a single second.” “Oh, of course,” he said, stepping back immediately. “Don’t let me keep you. Go, go.” He held the door for them. Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. They bundled me into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, I watched Officer Miller’s back recede down the hallway, and the fragile hope in my heart turned to ash. The moment the doors closed, my mother dug her nails into my arm. “You little bitch. You almost blew it with that cop. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’re trying to murder your own sister. How can you be so evil?” The pain was excruciating, and fresh tears streamed down my face. Just then, my father’s phone rang. “Dr. Sterling? It’s the hospital. Your daughter Chloe has a sudden high fever and isn’t responding to treatment. You need to come back immediately.” He hung up, his face grim as he stared at my stomach. “We’re out of time. The second we get to the hospital, we’re taking her straight to the OR.” The elevator doors opened. Ethan and my father started to drag me out. “Hold it.” A voice. Footsteps, quick and urgent. I twisted my head and saw Officer Miller standing right behind us, his expression serious. That extinguished ember of hope sparked back to life. “You dropped this,” he said, jogging up to us. He handed my mother my ID card, which must have fallen from her purse. “Oh, thank you so much, Officer,” she gushed. I strained against my bonds, trying to make a sound, anything. “Offi—” As Miller turned to leave again, I gasped out the word, but Ethan’s hand immediately clamped over my mouth, muffling the sound. “Just breathe, honey, we’re almost there,” he said loudly, for the officer’s benefit. Then he was dragging me toward the car. The second I was thrown into the back seat, my mother’s hand was on me again, pinching and twisting the flesh of my arm. “You try one more thing, I swear to God, you will regret it.” Ethan drove like a madman, blowing through three red lights to get to the hospital. They didn’t even bother with admitting. I was dragged through back corridors directly into an operating room. The sterile chill of the room, the gleam of cold steel, sent a fresh wave of terror through me. I tried to scramble away, to run, but my mother was already there, plunging a syringe into my arm. A sedative. “We’re just taking a baby out, Ava,” she said, her voice laced with a chillingly casual cruelty. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a scene. We’re family. And you’re saving your sister.” The drug began to work, a strange lightness spreading through my limbs, but she must have used a low dose, afraid of harming the baby. My mind remained terrifyingly clear. “Strap her to the table,” she commanded. “I’ll perform the surgery myself.” Ethan and my father hoisted me onto the operating table. “This is illegal!” I screamed, my voice echoing in the cold, tiled room. “You can’t do this!” My mother just scoffed. “You’re my daughter. What’s illegal about me operating on you? I gave you your life, I can do with it as I please.” My father glared at me. “You’re a monster. We raised you, and now, when we ask you to do one small thing to save your sister, you talk to us about the law?” Ethan tightened the strap on my wrist, cinching it so hard I felt the buckle dig into my flesh. “Hurry up and sign the consent form, Ethan,” my mother said, thrusting a clipboard at him. “I need to begin.” He scribbled his name without even glancing at the page. I looked at the faces of the people I had once called my family, and my heart felt like it had been frozen solid. “Ethan, you might want to step outside,” my mother said, picking up a scalpel. “This could get messy.” He shook his head, his eyes fixed on my stomach. “No. I need to be here. I need to see the medicine for Chloe come out with my own eyes.” His words were needles, piercing my heart one by one. To him, my child and I were not human. We were a pharmaceutical. There was no anesthesiologist. It was a rogue, illegal surgery. My mother pressed the blade against my skin and cut. It was a pain beyond anything I could have imagined, a white-hot agony that felt like my bones were being shattered from the inside out. I could feel every layer of my body being sliced open, peeled back. My screams tore through the room, raw and unending, but no one wiped the sweat from my brow. No one flinched. No one even looked at my face. “You will all pay for this,” I hissed through clenched teeth. Ethan started to retort, but was cut off by a triumphant shout from my mother. “I’ve got it! The baby is out!” But her joy lasted only a second, replaced by a sound of pure horror. “The baby… why isn’t it breathing? It’s not breathing.”

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It was Labor Day weekend, and my childhood friend, Leo, brought his new girlfriend, Ashley, on our annual group trip. We were all out on the beach, the smell of salt and charcoal in the air from the grill. Leo pulled the first batch of perfectly charred chicken wings off the grate, walked past everyone—his girlfriend included—and handed the plate to me. That’s when Ashley’s voice cut through the relaxed vibe. “Doesn’t it get exhausting? Pulling that whole ‘one of the guys’ act?” The sizzle of the grill was suddenly the loudest sound on the beach. The air went still. I was just holding the plate, completely thrown. “I’m sorry, what?” “If you want him, just say it,” she continued, her voice sharp. “At least then I could respect you as a rival. But don’t hide behind this whole ‘best bud’ thing to flirt with my boyfriend.” The atmosphere went from zero to a hundred real quick. I was just standing there with a plate of wings, totally embarrassed and confused by her sudden attack. “I think you’ve got this all wrong,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Leo jumped in, scowling at her. “Ashley, what the hell? Mia and I are just friends. Stop looking for trouble.” “Friends?” She let out a bitter little laugh. “You give her the first plate of wings instead of your own girlfriend, and now you’re yelling at me to defend her. You expect me to believe you two are just ‘buddies’?” Her glare snapped back to me. “And you, Mia. Drop the innocent act. I’ve seen girls like you a thousand times—the ‘cool girl’ who hangs around a bunch of guys, blurring the lines, acting like a bro. Have some self-respect.” I felt a headache starting to pound behind my eyes. Our little group of four—two guys, two girls—had been inseparable since we were kids. Our parents all knew each other, did business together. It was just how it was. But I’d always been careful to keep clear boundaries. The only reason Leo gave me the wings first was as a thank you. He and Ashley had been dating since sophomore year of college, and he was planning to propose this weekend. He’d asked us, his oldest friends, to help plan the whole thing. I was in charge of the venue and setup, while Sarah and Ryan handled fireworks and music. This whole beach resort? It belongs to my family. I shut it down to the public for a week just for his proposal. He could give me a million chicken wings and it wouldn’t cover the favor. But the proposal was a surprise. I couldn’t blow his cover. I forced myself to stay calm. “Look, he was just thanking me for helping him with something recently.” Sarah and Ryan quickly backed me up. “Ashley, seriously, we can vouch for them. There’s nothing going on between Mia and Leo,” Sarah said. Ryan added, bluntly, “Mia’s not into Leo.” But Ashley’s face was like stone. She slapped her phone down on the picnic table. The screen lit up with a screenshot of a text exchange between me and Leo. It was me, asking if his wound was healing okay and if he needed me to come take care of him. “Not into him, huh?” she sneered. “But you’re so concerned you offer to play nurse? Are you that desperate for attention you’ll just volunteer for anything?” I just stared at the screen. Those texts were from eight years ago. *** We were in high school. Puberty had hit our friend group like a truck. Leo, after learning some basic biology, turned into a total jerk. He’d snap girls’ bra straps, try to flip up skirts, and make gross jokes. It was disgusting. One day, I saw him do it and just lost it. I grabbed the nearest plastic chair and slammed it into him, screaming at him to apologize to the girl. I was young and didn’t know my own strength. He ended up with two stitches in his head. My parents read me the riot act, and I realized I’d probably gone too far. So, I sent him a few texts, reluctantly checking in. That was the extent of our “caring” exchange. The good news was, he never bullied another girl again. The bad news was, it revealed his true colors. He cycled through girlfriends at an insane rate, and even bragged about cheating. If it weren’t for our parents’ history, the rest of us would have ditched him years ago. But after he started dating Ashley, he seemed to clean up his act. He deleted all the other girls’ numbers and played the part of the reformed bad boy. I never bought it. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. The day Leo introduced Ashley to us, I pulled her aside and quietly gave her a heads-up. “Hey, just so you know, Leo used to be a huge player. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She looked at me with pure suspicion. “I think I can learn about my own boyfriend from him, thanks. I don’t need his ‘girl buddy’ to fill me in.” It was like she thought I was trying to sabotage them from day one. So, I dropped it. It wasn’t my business. But now, all these years later, she was dragging up ancient history to paint me as the villain. “I have absolutely zero interest in Leo,” I said, enunciating every word. Before Ashley could fire back, Leo had had enough. “If you’re not going to eat, then just go back to the room! Why are you so obsessed with attacking Mia? You’re embarrassing me!” Her head snapped up, her eyes suddenly red and glassy. “Oh, so now you’re getting defensive, are you? Fine! I’m the extra one here! I’m in the way! You and your *best friends* can have a great time!” She spun around and ran off down the beach. Leo muttered a curse under his breath, then turned to me, looking mortified. “Mia, I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into her today. After I propose tonight, I’ll set her straight. I’ll make sure she apologizes.” I just gave him a tight, fake smile. I felt sick to my stomach and furious. If I’d known helping him out would be this much of a nightmare, I would’ve charged him for emotional damages. After that, no one felt like eating. We all just went to get the final proposal prep done. Ryan went to check on the fireworks, and Sarah started setting up candles and balloons. I was supposed to be directing the hotel staff with the field of roses we were planting in the sand. Per Leo’s request, the entire stretch of beach was supposed to be covered in red roses. But a freak heatwave had rolled in, and more than half the flowers were completely wilted and useless. I had no choice but to call Leo to ask if he was okay with using high-quality fakes instead. But it wasn’t him who answered. It was Ashley. Her voice was dripping with venom. “You’ve got incredible timing, you know that? The second Leo starts to calm me down, your name pops up on his phone.” I gritted my teeth, trying to stay professional. “I’m calling him about something important.” “And what could be so important that you can’t tell me?” she scoffed. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you basic girl code? If you need to talk to one person in a couple, you call the one you have a goddamn Y chromosome in common with.” Leo’s angry voice cut her off in the background. “Ashley, that’s enough! Aren’t you embarrassed enough already?” I heard shuffling, and then Leo was on the line. “Mia, I’m on Ashley’s floor. Just come up here and we can talk.” *Click.* He hung up. To avoid any more drama, I grabbed Sarah and brought her with me. We found Leo waiting for us in the hallway outside his room. The second he saw me about to mention the proposal, he frantically waved us into the stairwell, terrified Ashley would overhear. “What’s up?” he whispered. I told him about the rose situation. A deep frown creased his forehead. “Why didn’t you order more backups?” he snapped. “Fake flowers? Seriously? Ashley cares so much about the little details, she’s going to be so disappointed.” I almost laughed in his face. “I ordered *thousands* of roses, Leo. You think I can control the weather?” Sarah didn’t hold back. “We’re busting our asses to help you, and you have the nerve to blame us?” He flinched, his tone softening. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just stressed… Okay, fine. Use the fake ones from the hotel. It’ll be dark, maybe she won’t notice. All the damages are on me. Mia, don’t be mad. I’ll Venmo you the money right now.” Before he could finish, the stairwell door slammed open with a deafening *BANG!* And then, a sharp, stinging *CRACK!* Ashley was standing there, and she had just slapped me clear across the face. “You shameless, pathetic pick-me!” she shrieked. *** Ashley was heaving, her eyes blazing with a wild, triumphant fury. “I knew it! You create some stupid little emergency so my boyfriend has to come running to you! I caught you red-handed!” Her eyes darted down to his phone. “And you’re asking him for money? What’s wrong, isn’t your family’s money good enough for you? Or is his money just *special*?” she spat. “And you brought Sarah along as your lookout! You’re so calculating!” She lunged at me again, but this time Leo grabbed her, holding her back. “Ashley, are you insane?!” Sarah yelled. “You don’t even know what’s going on and you just hit her?” My cheek was on fire. I’d never been slapped in my entire life. All the patience I’d been holding onto evaporated in a rush of pure rage. “You think Leo is some kind of prize to be won?” I yelled back. “The only reason I’m even talking to him is because he’s about to ask you to—” “Mia!” Leo’s voice was a desperate plea. His eyes were begging me not to ruin the surprise. He turned back to Ashley, trying to wrestle her toward the door. “We were just talking about maybe taking a boat out later, that’s all! Why did you follow us? Come on, let’s go. I’m begging you, stop making a scene!” He practically dragged her out of the stairwell. A minute later, Sarah came back with an ice pack for my swelling cheek. My phone buzzed. It was a Venmo notification. Leo had sent me $10,000. The message read: *Mia, I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t ruin the proposal. I won’t let Ashley out of the room again. Don’t reply.* Sarah peeked at the screen and snorted. “Wow. A match made in heaven. He’s an idiot and she’s a psycho.” Just then, Ryan came back from checking the fireworks. When he saw my face and heard what happened, he looked both furious and completely exhausted by the drama. “That’s it,” he said. “Leo crossed a line. He cares more about his image and his crazy girlfriend than a friend he’s known his whole life. After he proposes tonight, we’re done. We’re not inviting him to anything ever again.” Sarah scoffed. “I don’t know why he acts so high and mighty anyway. You know his family’s business has been struggling for years…” The Maxwells had been quietly sinking, and their company was only staying afloat because of their contracts with our three families. This whole proposal weekend was something Leo’s parents had personally asked us to help with, as a favor. Otherwise, none of us would have bothered. I was so full of rage I couldn’t see straight. I was done. I handed the rest of the setup duties over to the hotel staff and called the dock to make sure our boat was ready to leave the island the second this whole charade was over. Later that night, everything went according to plan. Leo led Ashley down to the beach for a walk. He got down on one knee in the middle of the (mostly fake) sea of roses and pulled out a ring box. On cue, Ryan set off the fireworks, which exploded in glittering bursts across the sky, illuminating the tears welling in Ashley’s eyes. After a long, heartfelt speech, Leo held up the ring. “Ashley, will you marry me?” That was our signal. Sarah and I ran over, playing the part of the ecstatic audience. “Say yes! Say yes!” Ashley reached for the ring. And then she threw it. Hard. Right at me. “You sound so happy, don’t you?” she screamed, tears streaming down her face, her laugh turning into a sob. “You must be just sick with jealousy inside! Well, you know what? Fine! I’ll make it easy for you two! No more sneaking around and treating me like an idiot!” I was stunned. “Who’s treating you like an idiot?” “Oh, stop playing dumb,” she sobbed, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “You really think I don’t know? About the baby you and Leo had together?”

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1 After a three-year international assignment, I was back. My first stop? A new position at my fiancée’s company, at her own enthusiastic invitation. A few days in, her male assistant, Tim, dropped a settlement agreement on my desk. I frowned. “What’s this?” He rolled his eyes. “You made the mess. You take responsibility. Simple as that.” My first thought was that he’d mistaken me for someone else. “I just started,” I explained patiently. “I haven’t even been assigned to a project yet. How could I have messed anything up?” When I made no move to sign, he slammed the papers down, crossed his arms, and loomed over me. “I said sign it. Cut the crap and stop wasting my time.” I ignored him and dialed my fiancée, Chloe. Her voice came through, sharp with impatience. “Tim got into a bit of trouble a couple of days ago. Just cover for him.” Then came the warning. “And don’t you dare throw a tantrum. He’s the son of our chairwoman. If we don’t keep him happy, we’re both out on the street.” I looked up at the arrogant peacock standing before me. Funny. I didn’t remember my mother having another son. … I scanned the agreement. It was a full confession, stating that I had leaked core project data, causing catastrophic losses to the company, and that I accepted all legal and financial liability. They were trying to bury me. When I’d first returned, Chloe had been so eager for me to join her at Apex Corporation. With our wedding just around the corner, I’d seen it as a final chance to observe her character up close. I’d accepted the offer. I never imagined she was just hiring me to be Tim’s scapegoat. On the phone, Chloe must have realized her tone was too harsh, because it suddenly softened into a syrupy plea. “Ethan, darling, I’m just thinking about our future.” “Tim is the chairwoman’s son,” she reasoned. “He can’t have a stain like this on his record. You’re different. You’re new. It’s expected that you’ll have to take a few hits for the team.” “Chloe,” I cut in, my voice dangerously calm, “I suggest you think very carefully about what you’re doing.” I hung up before she could reply. Suddenly, Tim dumped a cup of ice water over my head. The ice-cold shock of it jolted through me, water sluicing down my hair and neck. He sneered, his face a mask of contempt. “You, with your degree from some third-rate university overseas. If it weren’t for Chloe, you’d be digging through trash cans for a living. The company asks you to do one small thing, and you drag your feet. Let me tell you something: if you don’t sign this today, and our partners come after us, my mother will hear about it. And when she does, no one will be able to protect you.” No one had ever dared to treat me with such disrespect. And to hear my Stanford MBA dismissed as a degree from a “third-rate university”… A hot surge of anger flooded my veins. I grabbed the mug of coffee on my desk, still steaming hot, and without a second’s hesitation, hurled its contents straight into Tim’s face. “Aaargh!” he shrieked, clutching his burning skin. The office erupted. Gasps filled the air as my colleagues stared, their whispers instantly buzzing. “Is that Chloe’s fiancé? The one who just got back? He’s got some nerve!” “Picking a fight with Tim on his first week? He’s toast. What an idiot.” “Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.” The sheer audacity of it all… If I didn’t know for a fact that my parents were deeply in love and had never spent more than twenty-four hours apart, I might have actually suspected Tim was my mother’s illegitimate son. But now that I was looking at him closely, his face scalded and contorted in pain, I felt a strange flicker of recognition. Tim frantically dabbed at his face with a tissue, his body trembling with rage. “Ethan! Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” “I know exactly what I’m doing,” I said, my voice like ice. “I’m teaching a lesson to someone who makes mistakes and then tries to run from the consequences.” “You—! Do you know who I am?” he screeched. I let out a cold laugh. “I don’t care who you are. To me, you’re nothing.” Just then, Chloe stormed in. The moment she saw Tim’s pathetic state, her face went pale. She didn’t even glance at me, rushing straight to his side, cupping his face in her hands as she examined him with frantic concern. “Tim, what happened? Are you okay?” She cooed at him with a tenderness I’d never once received. Even when I was sick with a fever, all I ever got from her was a terse “drink some water.” Tears welled in Tim’s eyes as he whined, “Chloe, my face… it hurts so much. I think he was trying to disfigure me…” He then buried his face in her shoulder, hugging her tightly. Chloe froze for a second, but then a flicker of something… pleasure?… crossed her face. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. They looked less like colleagues and more like lovers. She finally turned to me, her voice a furious shriek. “Ethan! Have you lost your mind? Apologize to Tim right now!” I didn’t move. I just stared at her. “He threw water on me first, Chloe. Why should I be the one to apologize?” Her fury intensified. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “You hurt him, and you have the audacity to say that? I must have been blind to ever fall for a vicious monster like you!” Vicious? A monster? It was clear then. In her mind, our relationship had become an inconvenience. A roadblock on her path to… whatever this was. In that moment, I felt a strange mix of relief and regret. Relief that I had never told her who I really was. When we were together, I’d only said my family was comfortably well-off, letting her believe I was just some generic trust-fund kid. It was that deception that allowed me to see her true colors. And regret? Regret that, before I left the country, I had recommended her to my mother for the manager position at this very subsidiary. I had vouched for her, telling my mother she was talented and trustworthy. The memory felt like a slap in the face. “In that case, Chloe,” I said calmly, “we’re done.” I stood up to leave, but she grabbed my arm, her eyes blazing. She snatched the settlement agreement from the desk. “Don’t you play these games with me, Ethan. You think I’m scared of you?” “You assaulted Tim. This isn’t over. And you’re not leaving this building until you sign this document!” The ice water from earlier must have seeped into my bones. A splitting headache was starting to build behind my eyes. I was too tired to argue anymore. I took the agreement from her hand. In the signature line at the bottom, I scrawled a name and tossed the paper back at her feet. Chloe was so stunned by my sudden compliance that she just stood there for a second, blinking. By the time she bent down to pick it up, I was already in the elevator. “Ethan!” I heard her enraged roar just as the doors began to close. “You signed Tim’s name! Get back here, you bastard!” The doors slid shut, sealing off her frantic screams. The family car was already waiting downstairs. I sank into the back seat, exhausted, and leaned my head back. “Home, Marcus,” I told the driver. Marcus Vance nodded, and the car pulled smoothly away from the curb. My head was still throbbing. I closed my eyes and, before I knew it, I was asleep. When I woke up, we weren’t at my house. We were parked in front of a five-star hotel. Marcus had worked for my family for thirty years. He was more than an employee; I thought of him as an uncle, a man I trusted so completely that I could fall asleep in his car without a second thought. But now, a cold dread coiled in my stomach. “Marcus?” I asked, my voice tight. “I said to go home. Why are we here?” He turned to look at me, and the respectful warmth he always wore was gone, replaced by a chilling malice. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, his voice flat. “But as an elder in this family, I feel it is my duty to teach you that a man must take responsibility for his mistakes.” Looking at his face, I finally understood why Tim had seemed so familiar. He was Marcus’s son. My hand shot toward the phone in my pocket, but Marcus was faster. He lunged, snatching it from my grasp. “Don’t bother, Young Master.” I stared at him, my mind racing. “Marcus, does my mother know about this? Do you really think you’ll get away with it?” He snorted. “The Chairwoman has been focused on overseas expansion for years. She barely sets foot in the country. You think she has time to worry about the petty squabbles of a subsidiary?” His eyes narrowed. “But you… you dared to hurt my son. For that, you will pay.” He opened the door and yanked me out of the car. I struggled, but Marcus’s strength was shocking. He was like a man made of iron. As he dragged me, I managed to discreetly press the emergency button on my watch. “What are you going to do?” I demanded, trying to buy time, to figure out a plan. But he wasn’t talking. He hauled me through the hotel lobby and shoved me into a private dining room. The air was thick with smoke. A bloated, greasy-looking man sat at the head of the table, with Chloe laughing and pouring him a drink at his side. Marcus bowed obsequiously to the man. “Mr. Cole, I’ve brought him as you requested.” Tim, his face still red but now plastered with a triumphant smirk, stood up and pointed at me. “Mr. Cole! This is the man who leaked the project data. I brought him here personally to apologize!” Mr. Cole. The name clicked. He was Richard Cole, the CEO of our biggest competitor, Stryker Industries. A man in his fifties with a reputation for… certain unsavory appetites. “Haha, well done, Tim. Very thoughtful of you.” Cole put down his glass and looked me up and down, his eyes lingering. “So this is the leaker? Not bad looking.” He rose and walked toward me. “Young man, do you have any idea how much money your little leak cost my company?” “When did I leak any data?” I shot back. Tim held up the settlement agreement. “Still playing dumb? Don’t forget, your signature is right here.” I glanced at it. It was the same document. But where I had clearly written “Tim Vance,” my name, “Ethan Kim,” was now printed in its place. “You forged this!” “Forged?” Chloe scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ethan. You signed it yourself. We have it on camera.” She was right. The office cameras would have caught the motion of me signing, but they wouldn’t have been able to see the name I’d actually written. “You see, Mr. Cole?” Tim added, pouring fuel on the fire. “He’s completely unrepentant. He even threw hot coffee on me back at the office. Arrogant prick.” Cole’s smile was predatory. “Well, young man, when you make a mistake, you have to face the consequences.” His gaze roamed over my body, making my skin crawl. “Mr. Kim is even more handsome in person than in the photos Chloe showed me,” he said, licking his lips. Chloe immediately chimed in, practically bowing. “Mr. Cole, Ethan is just young and foolish. He made a terrible mistake, but you’re a magnanimous man. Please don’t hold it against him. Why don’t we let him have a few drinks with you tonight, as a personal apology?” That bitch. She wasn’t just setting me up to take the fall. She was trying to serve me up on a platter to this disgusting old man. Cole picked up a glass and stepped in front of me. “Listen, pretty boy. Smart people know when to cooperate. You keep me… entertained… tonight, and we can renegotiate the terms of that compensation.” “In your dreams!” I shoved him away and made a break for the door. Two massive bodyguards immediately blocked my path. I turned back to Chloe, my voice raw with fury. “Chloe, are you even human? After three years together, you do this to me?” She laughed, a cold, ugly sound. “Feelings? Compared to my career, feelings are worthless. Besides, you’re the one who committed corporate espionage. Stop trying to shift the blame.” “I didn’t do it!” “The evidence says otherwise. Are you going to keep lying?” She gestured to the bodyguards. “Bring him here.” I fought with everything I had, but they were too strong, forcing me into a chair. “Chloe, you have to listen to me!” I yelled, my last desperate card. “Tim lied to you! I’m Seraphina Kim’s son! I’m the real heir! If you do this, my mother will destroy you!” The room went silent for a beat, then erupted in derisive laughter. Chloe patted my cheek like I was a misbehaving child. “You’re telling me the Chairwoman is your mother? Please. I see Tim getting picked up in her private car every day. Who else gets that kind of treatment besides her own son?” She stepped back, her face hardening. “You had your chance to do this the easy way. I guess you prefer the hard way.” She grabbed my chin, picked up a glass of liquor, and started pouring it down my throat. “Drink!” The cold liquid flooded my mouth. I thrashed my head, the alcohol spilling down my chin and soaking my shirt, but she didn’t stop. She grabbed another glass, and another. My mind grew foggy, my stomach churning violently. “Enough!” I screamed, shoving her away with the last of my strength. Undeterred, Chloe grabbed the entire bottle. “You won’t drink? Fine. We’ll pour.” She pried my mouth open. The liquor burned like fire down my throat. The world began to spin. Across the room, Mr. Cole watched, his eyes gleaming with a sick excitement. “Yes, yes. Much more interesting this way.” I had no strength left to fight. Chloe pulled a key card from her pocket and handed it to Cole. “Room 1208, Mr. Cole. All prepared for you.” “Haha, you’re a sharp one, Chloe,” he said, patting her shoulder. “You’ll go far.” Hands grabbed me under my arms, dragging me toward the door. I tried to scream, to struggle, but the alcohol had turned my limbs to lead. Despair washed over me like a black tide. And then—BOOM! The door to the room splintered inward, kicked off its hinges. A familiar voice, roaring with a fury I had never heard before, echoed through the room: “Bastards! You touch my son, you’re dead!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385111”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My girlfriend was just put on blast by a movie star in a tell-all post on Twitter. It came with a video. Her, on my arm, walking into a hotel and not leaving until the early hours of the morning. The post, from A-list heartthrob Aiden Vance, was a public breakup announcement: 【Yasmine, I never thought you were this kind of person.】 The evidence was undeniable. The topic started trending instantly. “Damn, Aiden Vance doesn’t pull punches!” “Wait, when did they even start dating?” “This is a shame, I was actually starting to ship them…” “Is anyone else wondering who the guy in the video is?” I put down my phone, the sheer absurdity of it all washing over me. Yasmine and I were childhood sweethearts. We’d been together for eight years. And now, Aiden Vance was her official boyfriend? So where does that leave me? 1 Less than twelve hours after Aiden’s post branded Yasmine a cheater, my personal information was doxxed and plastered all over the internet. Paparazzi camped outside my office building. My phone was flooded with an endless stream of harassing texts. The lies and vitriol wove a suffocating net around me, threatening to drown me. I hid in the office bathroom, calling Yasmine over and over. She never picked up. Desperate, I tried to set the record straight online. “So you’re saying Aiden Vance is the other man? Are you kidding me?” “Spoken like a true homewrecker. The nerve to come out and play the victim.” As a private citizen, my social media had no reach. The few comments I got were all from his fans, accusing me of trying to flip the script. The attacks intensified. Within a day, I had become the internet’s most hated “other man.” I took a deep breath, about to message HR to request time off, but a notification from them beat me to it: “Leo, your personal conduct has become a significant disruption to the company. Please take some time off to handle your private affairs before returning to work.” Just “take some time off”? I’d been in the corporate world long enough to know what that really meant. My phone buzzed again. “Don’t do anything. Wait for my people to pick you up.” It was Yasmine. My mind involuntarily replayed the details from Aiden’s post—the story of how they met, how they fell in love. A sharp pang of something cold and sharp pierced my heart. I stared at her text for a few seconds. I decided to trust her one last time. At the very least, I needed to hear an explanation from her, face to face. Escorted by a few of her staff, I was bundled into Yasmine’s private car. She wasn’t inside. Her manager, a woman with a perpetually cold expression, glanced at me. “You’ll be staying at a hotel we’ve arranged for a few days. Wait for Yasmine to contact you.” I didn’t answer, just watched the city blur past the window, my thumb unconsciously rubbing the watch on my wrist. “Yasmine has a watch just like that one,” her manager said suddenly. “You two have been together for almost eight years, haven’t you?” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Every Valentine’s Day, she’d custom order a matching pair from overseas. She really did care about you.” I froze, my mind drifting. There was a reason Yasmine and I both wore watches. Growing up, we were the neighborhood outcasts. Her mother had run off with another man, abandoning her. Her father was an alcoholic who beat her, once so badly she ended up in the hospital. As for me, I had no parents. I was raised by my grandfather, who suffered from dementia. Whenever the other kids pointed at me and jeered, “The psycho’s grandson is a psycho too!” Yasmine would be the one to step in front of me, her small fists flying. Driven by a desperate need to escape, we were the two smartest kids in the neighborhood, the ones who studied the hardest. One day, I was sick with a fever. My grandfather, making me porridge, forgot to turn off the gas stove. The kitchen caught fire. Luckily, Yasmine had come over to do homework and saw the smoke. She calmly ran for help, and they put the fire out. But not before both of our wrists were badly burned, leaving scars we’d carry forever. When we first got together, we were broke. But for our first Valentine’s Day, she used money she’d saved for months from a part-time job to buy us a pair of matching watches. That night, she’d rested her head on my shoulder, her warm, humid breath ghosting over my neck. “Leo,” she’d whispered, “I swear I’m going to give us a good life.” And she did. She was discovered by a casting agent, and her first TV show was a massive hit. She became a star overnight. Every Valentine’s Day after that, she’d give me a new watch to match hers. But this year, she didn’t. This year, she didn’t even spend Valentine’s Day with me. I had cooked a huge dinner and waited for her all night. Where was she? According to Aiden Vance’s post, Valentine’s Day was the wrap party for their show. While everyone else was celebrating, the two of them had slipped away. They’d walked the streets like a normal couple, gone to an amusement park. At the very top of the Ferris wheel, Yasmine, her face hidden by a mask, had leaned in and tentatively kissed him. He had pulled both their masks off and, smiling, kissed her back. I stayed in that hotel room for two days. I forced myself not to look at social media, not to contact anyone. On the third day, Yasmine finally showed up. The fever had returned. I was leaning against the doorframe, getting a glass of water, when I looked up and met her dark, intense eyes. She was thinner, which made her look even more fragile. Dressed in all black, she stood there like a statue carved from ice. I slumped against the door, feeling weak. It suddenly occurred to me that today was our eighth anniversary. Last year, on our seventh, Yasmine had a break from filming. We were supposed to go on a trip to the coast. But when we got to the airport, we were swarmed by paparazzi. In the ensuing chaos, it was another actor, who just happened to be there, who “saved” us. “Why is he at the airport with Yasmine?” “Didn’t he publicly confess his crush on her last month? Are they really together?” The reporters surged forward, shoving me out of the way to surround him and Yasmine, their camera flashes blinding. The other actor, a master at fanning the flames of shipping rumors, saw his chance. He smiled and said, “The show’s on hiatus. We’re just celebrating together.” When Yasmine didn’t object, he leaned in closer, a calculated gesture of intimacy. Yasmine looked up at him, a soft smile on her lips, her eyes so tender they looked like they were melting. The airport erupted in cheers. But then, she turned and looked in my direction, her eyes filled with apology. That night, the top trending topics were all about her and the other actor. And me? I wanted to post a gallery of our vacation photos, but I didn’t even dare to tag the location, terrified that someone would trace it back to me and cause problems for her. Later that night, she held me, her voice thick with guilt, her cheek pressed against my chest. “Just a little longer, Leo. I promise. Next year, on our anniversary, I’ll tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. I was about to say something when her manager appeared from behind her and frisked me from head to toe. Only after confirming I wasn’t wearing a wire did she leave. “Were you afraid I was recording this?” Yasmine just smiled, as if nothing was wrong. “Leo, I’ve missed you.” I felt a strange, bitter laugh bubble up inside me. I was so confused. After that anniversary, I saw her less and less. She was always busy filming, doing press tours. I told myself I had to be understanding. One day, I was so lonely I posted a vague complaint on my private social media about wishing I had someone with me. I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to see her standing over me. She had seen my post and had taken the red-eye from the set just to be with me. When I opened the door and saw her, I was so happy I just started kissing her, messy and desperate. She laughed, her arms wrapping lightly around my neck. “I missed you too. Every part of me missed you.” By the end, I was clinging to her like a dying fish gasping for water. She had an early call time the next day and left before dawn. I stood in the empty apartment, watching her disappear down the street, feeling hollow. Then I noticed she’d left her suitcase. Inside, it was filled with all my favorite snacks. And at the very bottom was a photograph. An autographed picture of my favorite theater actor. I remembered reading a post from one of her fan accounts that she had turned down several jobs to study theater for three months. It had been for me. Even later, when the rumors about her and Aiden Vance were everywhere, I chose to believe her. I truly didn’t understand how we had ended up here. “That Twitter post. Aiden Vance. Aren’t you going to explain?” “Explain what?” “All those news articles saying you two fell in love on set. I never doubted you. You said it was just for publicity, and I believed you.” “But now?” “If you fell for him, you could have just told me. We could have broken up. Why did you have to lie to me?” My voice was rising. “Cheating on me behind my back with another man—was it a thrill? Did it make you feel powerful?” “Why would you put me in this position?” Yasmine just stared at me, silent. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these past few days? Do you know what people are saying about me online?” My throat felt raw. The next words were poison on my tongue. “Yasmine, some of that ‘dirt’ on me… you were the one who leaked it, weren’t you?” Her expression hardened, but her voice remained calm. “Leo, it’s not what you think.” I looked at her, at a loss for words. This was the same Yasmine who would have fought anyone who said a single bad word about me. Now, faced with a torrent of vile abuse directed at me, she stood by and did nothing. Worse, she had added fuel to the fire. By throwing me to the wolves, her team had bought themselves enough time to handle the PR crisis. Looking at the woman in front of me, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t want to fight anymore. “Yasmine, let’s break up.” “I don’t agree.” She grabbed my hand, reaching for my face. I jerked away. “About Aiden…” She paused, as if searching for the right words, and bit her lip in frustration. It took her a moment to continue. “After that fire when we were kids, I’ve always been afraid of explosions. There was a scene in the movie with pyrotechnics, and I just couldn’t get into character. He was the one who kept encouraging me.” “Our characters in the film had this incredibly intense, complicated relationship. I’ve never been so deep into a role before. I just… I couldn’t snap out of it.” She ran a hand through her hair, the frustration in her eyes deepening. I let out a hollow laugh. “So you’re saying you had a momentary lapse in judgment? That you never had any real feelings for him?” Yasmine was silent. I pressed on. “Did you sleep with him?” Her face went pale. “Valentine’s Day. I waited for you all night. I called you, and you didn’t answer. You were with him, weren’t you?” She looked at me, her lips moving, but no sound came out. Suddenly, a tickle in my throat exploded into a violent coughing fit. A cool hand touched my forehead. “You have a fever?” Yasmine’s brow furrowed. She pulled out her phone. “I’ll have someone bring you some medicine.” Seeing the faint trace of concern on her face just made me feel sicker. I turned away and dry-heaved. “Don’t pretend to care. It’s disgusting.” A shadow crossed her eyes. She stared at me for a few seconds, then grabbed my arms and pulled me onto the sofa. “Leo.” Her voice came from above me, the usual coolness in it now laced with something strange and chilling. “You promised you would never leave me, no matter what.” Her hands pressed against my chest, and she leaned in to kiss me. I put a hand up to stop her. “If you have any respect for me left, let me go.” Her body went rigid. After a moment, she pulled back. “I’m sorry.” The room fell silent. I looked at her. “I’m willing to have an amicable breakup. I won’t use any of our private information to add to this mess online. But you have to tell the truth. Clear my name.” She was silent for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t.” “Leo, I’ve already released a statement. The public will lose interest in this soon enough. If you can just compromise one more time, once this all blows over—” “Compromise one more time?” I cut her off. “What does that mean?” Then it hit me. My hands felt numb as I opened Twitter, a platform I had been too afraid to look at for days. The top trending topic was Yasmine’s official response. “I apologize for taking up public resources. First, I want to apologize to everyone. Leo and I were previously in a relationship. Due to certain issues, we had to break up. Later, during filming, Aiden and I got together. When I ran into Leo again, I finally learned the real reason he had broken up with me. He suffers from a hereditary mental illness. The night of the video, he came to find me during an episode, mistakenly believing we were still together. It was dark, which led to a misunderstanding. I am deeply sorry I didn’t tell Aiden about this sooner. To Aiden, I am truly sorry. After coming to his senses, Leo also felt terrible about the situation and will be releasing a statement to clarify things.” I stared at the screen, my blood running cold. “So, the reason you came here today—” “Was to get me to confess to the whole world that I’m mentally ill? That I’m the crazy ex-boyfriend who’s harassing you?” Yasmine’s eyes darkened. “Leo, Vanessa will give you a script. Memorize it. She’ll record a video of you.” “After this is over, we can go back to how we were—” SLAP. The sound was sharp and loud. I had put every ounce of my strength into it. Yasmine’s head snapped to the side. The overhead light caught the corner of her mouth, where a bead of blood was starting to form. The silence stretched for a few seconds. Yasmine slowly turned her head back, her expression unreadable. She took my hand, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t pull away. I just looked down and asked softly, “Do you know what day it is?” She looked blank. “Last year, on our seventh anniversary, you promised me that on our next anniversary, you would tell the world that I am your boyfriend.” I let out a low, bitter laugh. “Today is our eighth anniversary. And you want me to tell the world that I’m a psycho.” The color drained from her face. A year. It’s not that long, but it’s not that short either. The bond we had built, brick by brick, over a lifetime of shared experiences—it only took one year to tear it all down and twist it into something unrecognizable. She knew. She knew how terrified I was of being called crazy because of my grandfather. She knew. Looking at her, it felt like I was seeing a stranger. “You’re so arrogant, Yasmine. You thought our eight years together, the fact that I loved you so much, meant I would forgive your betrayal. You thought I would sacrifice my dignity for you, admit to being a madman, and then just go back to being with you as if nothing happened.” “But why should I?” “The man I loved was the girl who defended me from bullies, the one who would fly across the country on a red-eye just to bring me snacks because I was feeling down, the one who only had eyes for me.” I looked at her, my voice steady and clear. “Not this person in front of me. This soulless, disgusting stranger.” Her grip on my hand tightened, a storm brewing in her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my hand from hers. “Not only will I not record any video, but I will also find a reporter and tell them the truth.” “I’d advise you to think carefully about that.” It was her manager, Vanessa. She met my gaze and held up a phone. The screen was shattered. It was my phone. “Sorry about that. We couldn’t risk you not cooperating. We’ll buy you a new one, of course. But this one won’t have any chat logs on it.” Vanessa pulled a brand-new phone out of her bag and placed it in my hand. “If you want to expose her, you’ll need proof that you two never broke up last year.” She smiled. “While you were staying at the hotel, we took the liberty of removing any evidence from your apartment. All the gifts she gave you this past year, your ticket stubs from visiting her on set since January—all gone.” I looked at Yasmine in disbelief. She went pale and avoided my eyes. After a moment of silence, I spoke, my voice low. “I have backups.” Vanessa’s face fell. “Eight years together. I have backups of every chat log, every ticket stub. And they’re not on that phone.” I stared at Yasmine, my voice like ice. “My terms are the same. You go on Twitter, you explain everything, and you publicly apologize to me. It’s the last shred of dignity we can offer each other.” Yasmine suddenly laughed, a flash of mockery in her eyes. “Backups?” I took in her expression, and a wave of suffocating sadness washed over me. I turned to leave, pausing at the door. “You have two days to think about it.” I walked out of the hotel, my head burning, and hailed a cab to the hospital. Lying in a bed with an IV in my arm, I finally opened Twitter. I scrolled through the comments on Yasmine’s post. The top comment was from Aiden Vance: “Really?” Yasmine had replied: “Yes.” The second: “Okay, I admit I was a little harsh before. The way you’re still being so kind to your mentally ill ex proves you’re not a bad person.” The third: “Good thing they broke up. That psycho sounds scary.” The fourth: “So when is this Leo guy going to make his statement?” Yasmine had replied: “Soon.” I closed my phone and shut my eyes. The truth was, I didn’t have any backups. For eight years, I had trusted her completely. I loved her so much that I never even saved a clear photo of her on my phone. I rarely posted on social media, and when I did, it was just a picture of her hand reaching for mine, or her back from a distance. I never even dared to tag our location when we traveled. How could I have made backups? The only joke was, I really had saved our chat logs from this past year. I’d treasured them. This past year, I had felt her growing distant, her replies becoming more perfunctory. But I kept telling myself she was just busy. On Valentine’s Day, I’d created a private Twitter account, visible only to me, and filled it with screenshots of our few conversations from the past year, and the voice messages she’d sent. I would look at it whenever I missed her at night. I never imagined it would end up being my only weapon. I spent two days in the hospital on an IV drip. There was no update from Yasmine, no contact at all. In the bed next to me, an old woman was patiently feeding her sick grandson. I watched them, and my eyes stung. I suddenly missed my own grandfather. After I was discharged, I made two calls. First, to a leader of one of Yasmine’s fan clubs I’d met while visiting her on set. I got the contact information for a well-known journalist from her. Then, I called a cab to the nursing home. Three years ago, my grandfather had a sudden heart attack at home. I was at work, but Yasmine, who had just wrapped filming, happened to come home and got him to the hospital in time. The doctor said that with his age and his dementia, he needed round-the-clock care. I had been a wreck, but Yasmine had held me, gently patting my back. “I’ll find the best nursing home for him. I promise.” The old Yasmine had been so good to me, and to my grandfather. Before I completely cut ties with her, I wanted to see him. I walked down the familiar hallway to his room. The nurse on duty was surprised to see me. “Your girlfriend picked him up this morning. Weren’t you two going to get a family photo taken?” A roar filled my ears, and a chill shot up from my feet to the top of my head. I spun around and ran out of the nursing home, my hands shaking as I dialed Yasmine’s number. She picked up immediately. “Where are you?” I demanded. “Where did you take my grandfather? He’s confused, he doesn’t recognize anyone. Yasmine, what are you trying to do?” The background on her end was noisy, the faint sound of camera shutters clicking. “I’m at a press conference.” Her voice was low, sounding like it was coming from a great distance. I felt a wave of dizziness. “A press conference for what?” “I know you don’t have any backups.” A sigh came through the phone. “Leo, you love me too much. You would never back up our conversations.” A bitter taste filled my mouth. I practically spat the words out. “So what? What are you going to do to my grandfather?” “I won’t do anything to him,” she said, her voice trembling. “Leo, I had no other choice. If you won’t come out and clear things up, I have to let him do it for you. I taught him a few lines to say to the cameras. He has a good memory. He remembered them all.” Tears streamed down my face. I bit back a sob. “Yasmine, don’t make me hate you.” There was a pause on the other end. “Leo, I’ll protect him. Don’t worry.” … By the time I got to the hotel, the press conference had already started. I didn’t have a pass and was stopped at the door. On the big screens inside, the room was packed with media, cameras flashing as Aiden and Yasmine posed for photos. I hadn’t realized Aiden would be there too. From what I could overhear from the staff, Yasmine had three goals for this press conference. First, to have the “mentally ill ex-boyfriend” clear her name. Second, to officially announce her relationship with Aiden Vance. And third, to announce their next project together, a romantic comedy. In a daze, I saw a familiar, wrinkled face on the screen. He looked pale and lost. “Leo’s condition has worsened, so he is unfortunately unable to be here today. This is his grandfather,” Yasmine said, holding his arm and guiding a microphone to his lips. My grandfather looked helplessly at Yasmine, his eyes cloudy. He spoke haltingly. “Leo… is… is sick. He can’t come. He… he and Yasmine broke… broke up last year.” After forcing the words out, he shrank back behind Yasmine, as if the microphone were a monster. “He definitely doesn’t seem right in the head. That Leo guy must be…” “It’s so sad. The whole family is crazy.” Hearing the reporters’ whispers, my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to storm in there. “Leo?” A soft voice said my name. I turned to see an elegant woman in a cream-colored dress. I was momentarily taken aback. “I’m Julia, the journalist you spoke with. I can get you inside.” I quickly wiped my tears away with the back of my hand and nodded. The moment I stepped inside, I froze. Yasmine and Aiden were kissing. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. It was dead silent, except for the relentless flashing of cameras. Aiden’s eyes were closed, his hand slowly moving to her waist. Yasmine seemed to smile into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck to deepen it. Suddenly, a shout shattered the silence. “You can’t kiss him!” I whipped my head around, my breath catching in my throat. My grandfather was standing in a corner, his usually stooped figure now ramrod straight, his eyes red and filled with a childlike hurt. “Leo is your boyfriend! You two never broke up…” The room erupted. My grandfather, trying to get to them, rushed forward, tripped over a chair leg, and fell hard. The scene descended into chaos. Someone called the police, someone called an ambulance. The cameras kept flashing. “Grandpa…” I scrambled onto the ambulance, looking at my grandfather’s unconscious form. My head roared, and the blood in my veins turned to ice.

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For nine years, the heir to the Rhodes family fortune pretended he was poor. For me. He even had our son in on the secret, hiding the truth of their lives from me. When a voice in my head—a System, it called itself—told me I could finally leave this world, I thought it was the perfect ending. The heir would get the wife he was always meant to have, someone of equal standing. Our son would get a new mother he would adore. And I would get to go home. My real home. But a short time later, the System delivered a notification that made my blood run cold. “Host, they have been granted an opportunity to find you.” My question was sharp, immediate. “Did you give it to them?” “No,” the voice replied. “They begged for it.” 1 The world came back into focus with the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic. I’d blacked out on the subway, a dizzying spell brought on by low blood sugar. Now, I was in a hospital bed. “Mom, why do you always have to make a scene?” Noah’s little face was pinched with an annoyance that was too big for his seven years. “Dad and I were about to go to the… the park.” The word “park” hung in the air, a clumsy lie. A wave of ice water washed over me, and the words I wanted to say froze in my throat. Noah crossed his arms over his chest. “You can get home by yourself later, right? Dad and I are busy.” I managed a numb nod. As soon as he left, I discharged myself. The exhaustion that settled deep in my bones felt more psychological than physical. I collapsed onto our small sofa, the worn springs groaning in protest. Suddenly, a strange, static buzz crackled in my mind. Bzzzt— Connection established. Host, I’ve finally found you. Before I could process it, a torrent of information flooded my thoughts. My apologies, Host. A critical error during transmission caused me to lose contact with you. Your original mission was to capture the heart of Ethan Rhodes, the heir to the Rhodes family fortune. “Ethan Rhodes?” I whispered to the empty room. The voice continued, oblivious. Well, what do you know? It seems you’re already well on your way! Your progress is at 89%, and you even have a child together. So, the man I had rescued from the street, the man I had built a life with, was an heir to one of the most powerful families in New York. 2 When I first arrived in this world, I had nothing. No memories, just five hundred dollars and a driver’s license in a name that felt like a stranger’s. To survive, I took any job I could find. I handed out flyers in Times Square, washed dishes in the greasy kitchens of late-night diners. I learned the city from its underbelly. I was working as an aide at an assisted living facility in Queens when I found him. He was unconscious in an alley behind the building, looking even more destitute than I was. Not a single dollar in his pockets. But his face, even bruised and pale, had a refined quality—the kind of bone structure that money creates over generations. A wild thought sparked in my mind: if I saved him, maybe this was my ticket out. My one-in-a-million shot at a different life. Because God, I was so tired of working three jobs just to stay afloat. But it didn’t play out like a fairytale. When he woke up, Ethan told me he was homeless, with no one to turn to. Maybe it was loneliness, or maybe I was just captivated by his movie-star looks. For reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, we ended up sharing my tiny studio apartment. Looking back now, I see it clearly. His entire life with me began with a lie. 3 Host, I can’t believe he’d keep this from you for nine years. He’s got to be the cheapest billionaire heir I’ve ever encountered, the System noted, its tone laced with digital sympathy. It was a good system. It just came nine years too late. I had no appetite to cook lunch. Instead, I ordered all my favorite takeout dishes from a place down the street, a small indulgence I rarely allowed myself. Our life together had been built on small things. The casual intimacy that grows between two people sharing a small space, a shared future. We’d split a single order of Pad Thai to save money, worn matching five-dollar t-shirts from a street vendor. I used to fantasize about the cozy, loving home we would build, a fortress against the world. Then, after one reckless, beautiful night, came Noah. There was no wedding. The simple silver bands we wore? I paid for them with my savings. Ethan held me tight that day, promising he would make it all up to me, that I just needed to wait a little longer. After Noah was born, our financial situation mysteriously improved. The cramped studio was replaced by a two-bedroom apartment. I assumed Ethan’s freelance graphic design work had finally taken off. He said he’d handle childcare so I could pick up more shifts at the restaurant, my nights and days blurring into a constant cycle of work. By the time Noah was three, Ethan was barely home. He was always taking our son on “outings,” but he was always vague about where they went. If I pressed, Noah would snap with a frustratingly adult impatience, “You wouldn’t get it, Mom.” He must have known by then. He must have known his father was a Rhodes. The family wouldn’t have let their heir’s son live in squalor. Noah had probably been welcomed into the fold years ago. And me? I was working weekends, killing myself to earn a little extra cash, my entire monthly salary probably not even enough to cover the cost of one of Ethan’s tailored shirts. The sound of the front door opening shattered my thoughts. It was Ethan and Noah. There was no concern on their faces, only surprise at finding me home so early. Seeing the takeout containers on the coffee table, Noah wrinkled his nose and tugged on Ethan’s pant leg. “I don’t want Mommy’s food. I already…” “Noah!” Ethan’s voice was sharp. He turned to me, his expression softening into a familiar, placating mask. “Mia, don’t worry so much about things like this. I’ll take care of him.” I remembered all the times Noah had thrown a tantrum at the dinner table, refusing to eat the food I’d made. Ethan would always play the part of the strict father, scolding him. I would then rush in to soothe Noah, who would be blinking back crocodile tears. I was so naive. I thought Ethan was defending my feelings. Now I realize he was just terrified our son would slip up and reveal the truth. Just like in the hospital this morning. Noah didn’t mean to say “park.” He meant to say “the office,” didn’t he? It was all there, all along. I just never let myself see it. I stood and began gathering the empty containers. “I have to get back to work. There’s a lot to do.” The moment the System told me Ethan was just a mission objective, a strange sense of relief washed over me. It meant my investment wasn’t a total loss. At least I’d get something out of this. I wouldn’t walk away with absolutely nothing. Ethan’s eyes narrowed, sensing the shift in my mood. “Noah and I will pick you up after your shift.” “Okay,” I said. 4 Host, do you want to exit this world? I can file a request for early mission completion. Due to our technical error, you’ll receive your full reward plus a compensation package. Of course, you can also choose to stay. I walked down the quiet street, thinking. “Why was I brought here in the first place?” You saved a drowning child in your original world. “What happened to her?” She’s in an orphanage. She’s physically fine, but her emotional state is… fragile at times. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the oak trees, dappling the sidewalk in patterns of light and shadow. The breeze felt free. In that moment, for the first time in a long time, I felt like myself. Ethan was supposed to pick me up after work. I waited for over half an hour, but there was no sign of him. No reply to my texts. My legs started to ache from standing, so I decided to duck into the nearby high-end mall for a drink and a place to sit. The ground floor was a glittering expanse of luxury brands. As I passed a jewelry counter, a child’s voice, high and excited, cut through the quiet hum of the store. “Sloane, you look like a real princess with that on!” It was Noah. “You’re just saying that to be sweet,” a woman’s musical voice laughed. “What do you think, Ethan?” “It’s nice,” Ethan’s voice was smooth, casual. “Didn’t I just have a custom piece made for you last week?” “A girl can never have too many pretty things.” I saw them then. The woman was stunning, dressed in an elegant dress that clung to her frame, her aura bright and untouched by the grime of the world. Noah orbited her, his eyes shining with an adoration I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. When did he stop looking at me like that?

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My husband, Ryan, got back from a night of fishing and started putting on makeup. I screamed at him, shoving him into the bathroom and telling him to wash that crap off his face. But when I turned around, Ryan was standing right behind me. “Who were you just talking to?” he asked. 1 My soul just about left my body. I whipped my head back toward the bathroom. It was empty. Not a soul in sight. I’d heard stories before. Things about how people who fish at night can easily run into… something unclean. Had Ryan brought one of them home? He just smiled, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist, telling me not to be scared. But if his hands were on my waist… whose hands were these, cold and firm, closing around my neck? I thought I was going to lose my mind. Ryan did his best to soothe me, telling me it was all in my head. He promised that after dinner, he’d take me to a church, and we could get a blessing. Only then did I finally manage to catch my breath. 2 Just then, a message popped up on my phone. It was from Charlie, Ryan’s only fishing buddy. He was asking if anything strange had happened after Ryan got home. A chill shot straight down my spine. I quickly typed out everything that had just happened. Charlie’s reply came back instantly, frantic. It happened. I knew it. My heart leaped into my throat. Charlie told me that while they were fishing last night, Ryan’s phone had fallen into the river. But instead of sinking, it just floated there on the surface. He remembered hearing a story when he was a kid: if something falls in the water and doesn’t sink, it’s because something underneath is holding it up. The moment you reach for it, it’ll pull you down to take your place. But Ryan, worried about his expensive phone, reached for it anyway. Sure enough, something yanked him straight into the water. The weird part was, a moment later, Ryan swam back to the surface on his own. The real problem started after he got out of the water. Ryan never smokes, but that night, he bummed four or five cigarettes off Charlie, one after another. The way he held it, the way he inhaled… he looked like a man who’d been smoking for a decade. Charlie had just talked to a friend of his who knows about this stuff. He was certain Ryan had been possessed by something from the river. He said the only way to fix it was to take a piece of Ryan’s personal clothing, something he wears close to his skin, and burn it by the river where it happened. It would call Ryan’s soul back. He told me he was already on his way, almost at my apartment building. He said I needed to grab something and come downstairs immediately. And he gave me one last warning: whatever I did, don’t let Ryan know. And don’t believe a single word he says. I etched his words into my mind. 3 I bolted into the bedroom, grabbed a few pairs of Ryan’s boxers, and stuffed them into my purse. I was just about to make up an excuse—an emergency at work, something I had to run and deal with—when Ryan called out from the kitchen that dinner was ready. I hesitated. I had to make this look natural. Maybe I should just have a few bites. But the second I sat down at the table… Ryan looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Has Charlie contacted you?” My heart hammered against my ribs. I forced a laugh. “Charlie? Why would he contact me?” “Because he drowned last night,” Ryan said, his voice flat. “While we were fishing.” My world exploded. If Charlie was dead… who had I been texting? 4 I fought to keep my composure. This thing, whatever it was, knew Charlie would tell me the truth. So it was trying to discredit him first. I couldn’t fall for it. I feigned shock. “What? That’s horrible! Why didn’t you call the police?” Ryan sighed, a weary sound. “Charlie’s dead, but his body is still walking around.” I didn’t understand. He explained. Last night, it was Charlie’s phone that fell into the river. And just like Charlie had said, it floated strangely on the surface. Ryan, having written horror novels for years, knew immediately that something was wrong, that there was something sinister in the water. But Charlie, stubborn as always, didn’t believe in any of it. He reached for his phone, and a hand dragged him under. Ryan was about to call 911 when Charlie climbed back onto the bank. He thought everything was fine, but then Charlie grabbed him and tried to pull him into the water too. It took everything Ryan had to break free and escape. When he got home, he did some research. A young couple had drowned in that same river last year. According to the lore, if a spirit hasn’t been dead for three years, it can’t claim a replacement. So the male spirit had taken over Charlie’s body. The reason Charlie—the thing inside him—tried to pull Ryan into the water was so the female spirit could possess him. It just hadn’t expected Ryan to get away. “So it will come for you,” Ryan finished, his eyes dark with worry. “It knows I won’t fall for its tricks again, so you’re the next target. It will try to lure you to the river, so the other one can take you.” My blood ran cold. I quickly searched the local news on my phone. He was right. A couple had drowned there last year. “So… the you that came home and put on makeup… was that the female spirit?” Ryan nodded grimly. “It was probably looking for an opening.” A knot of fear tightened in my stomach. “An opening?” 5 “In the books I’ve read,” Ryan explained, “these water spirits need an opening—a fated connection—to possess someone. Charlie falling into the river was the male spirit’s opening. For the female spirit to find hers, she has to use the connection Charlie already has.” He looked at me. “Charlie doesn’t have a girlfriend. I’m his only close friend. So her opening is either me… or you.” Another shiver wracked my body. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” “If I had,” he said, his voice low, “it would be like handing her the opening on a silver platter. It would have put you in even more danger.” “So what do we do now?” I asked, my voice trembling. “A water spirit can only survive out of its element for three days. As long as we don’t leave the apartment for three days, they can’t touch us. Then we can find an expert to go to the river and perform a rite to send them on their way.” I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. At least there was a plan. Everything, for now, had a logical, if terrifying, explanation. I was about to finally take a bite of food when a flash of color under the table caught my eye. My husband was wearing my black silk stockings. A new wave of panic crashed over me. What if he was the one possessed by the female spirit? And what if this dinner, right here, right now… was the opening she was waiting for? I couldn’t think about it. I had to get away. I had to contact Charlie—the real Charlie, or whatever was left of him—and figure this out. I pushed my chair back, mumbling an excuse about not having an appetite and needing to lie down. But just as I was about to close the bedroom door, Ryan was right behind me. “I’ll lie down with you for a bit.” My sanity finally snapped. 6 But strangely, as he lay beside me, he just held my hand, his grip firm. Was he trying to keep me from escaping? I didn’t dare move a muscle. After a few minutes, he started to snore softly. I took my chance, slowly, carefully, trying to slip my hand from his. Suddenly, his body jerked. He looked like he was having a nightmare, his face contorted in a struggle. He gasped, his voice a strangled whisper, “Honey! Don’t trust him! Don’t trust him!” My mind reeled. Don’t trust who? Charlie? Or him? But looking at the situation now, whether Charlie was a threat or not, something was definitely wrong with Ryan. My thoughts raced. I had to get out. Get out now. But as I sat up, Ryan’s expression smoothed over, returning to normal. “Where are you going?” he asked calmly. A chill seeped into my bones. “The bathroom,” I stammered. He didn’t say anything else. I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and messaged Charlie. He replied instantly. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t come down. I called my friend, the expert. She’s on her way up to your floor right now. Just as I read the message, a sharp knock-knock echoed from the front door. My heart leaped. I burst out of the bathroom, ready to throw the door open. But Ryan was faster. He got to it first. My breath caught in my throat, my mind flooded with images of what was about to happen. But when the door opened, it was just a courier with a package. I was completely bewildered. Was Charlie lying to me? I peeked through the crack in the door, glancing down the hallway. Standing near the elevators was a woman in a long white dress, her dark hair hanging loose around her face. She was staring directly at our apartment. She didn’t look like any kind of spiritual expert I’d ever imagined. But maybe they had a different style these days. I tried to calm myself. Then Ryan slammed the door shut, his face pale with terror. “It’s over!” he whispered, his voice shaking. “That female ghost… she’s found us!” 7 My head felt like it was going to explode. From a purely visual standpoint, that woman did not look normal. But I was already sure something was wrong with my husband. That meant I couldn’t afford to think Charlie was the problem anymore. And if Charlie wasn’t the problem, then this woman wasn’t a problem either. Which meant the more afraid Ryan was of her, the safer she probably was for me. All I had to do was stay alert, find a chance to get out, and I would survive. But then, my husband opened the package from the courier. Inside was a small box of ritual supplies: powdered crimson and yellow parchment. He then went into his office and came back with a book titled A Compendium of Taoist Sigils. He meticulously copied a symbol from the book onto a piece of parchment, set it on fire, and let the ashes fall into a glass of water. He held it out to me. “Drink this.” I recoiled. “It’s a genuine Five Thunder Talisman,” he said urgently. “It’s for protection.” I was lost again. If Ryan was possessed by a ghost, why would he be able to draw a sacred Taoist symbol? And more importantly, why would he be foolish enough to use a talisman against a real-life spiritual master? Unless… unless Ryan was fine. Unless Charlie, realizing Ryan was protecting me, had brought the female ghost directly to our door to get to me. That had to be the logic. But then I remembered the stockings. I couldn’t get the image out of my head. Why would he be wearing my stockings? Ryan let out a heavy sigh. “If I can’t save you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “I was going to try and trick the spirit into taking my body instead.” My heart shattered into a million pieces. He was trying to sacrifice himself for me. And I had suspected him, thought he was the monster. I was a fool. Without another thought, I took the glass and drank the ashy water down. I would trust him completely. Ryan then drew another sigil. He explained his plan. “In a minute, that ghost is going to knock four times. When she does, I’ll open the door and slap this sigil right on her forehead. If that doesn’t stop her, you need to slap her across the face, as hard as you can. The combination of the two should be enough to completely destroy her.” I nodded, committing every word to memory. Just then, the door rattled. Knock. Knock. Knock. Three times. But… wasn’t it supposed to be four?

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To marry the heir to the Astor dynasty, I reinvented my adoptive parents, turning street beggars into respected academics. Then, using my platform as a top financial news anchor, I helped my selectively mute husband seize control of his family’s empire. On our wedding day, he pressed the deed to our villa into my hands and kissed me again and again. But today, on a business trip, I overheard him confess his love to his old flame, his voice perfectly clear and steady. “Rosalind, you’re finally back. I faked this condition and married that grifter just to get my parents to finally accept us.” “Now, all I have to do is expose the truth about her fake high-society background, and you can finally marry me.” A chill washed over me, colder than any winter ice. So, he wasn’t mute. He knew I was lying from the very beginning. And he married me only to pave the way for his one true love to become the next Mrs. Astor. 1 The airport terminal was a river of people, but I felt utterly alone, frozen in place. Rosalind was wrapped in my husband’s arms, her voice thick with staged tears. “Julian, it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant back then, your parents would never have been so against us.” “To think you pretended to be mute for all these years, just for me… you’ve sacrificed so much.” My husband, Julian Astor, stroked her hair with a tenderness I had once believed was mine. “It was nothing. For you and our child, it was all worth it.” His voice dropped, a low, intimate rumble. “How is he? Our Leo?” “He’s wonderful. He’s officially living with my parents, and he calls me his big sister in public, but he knows the truth,” she whispered. “You know how it is. I had to follow my parents’ plan if I wanted my inheritance.” His tone darkened. “But that’s all over now. Tia helped me secure the company. The succession is in a few days. After that, it’s just the three of us. A real family.” No wonder Leo looked at me with such hatred every time he saw me, his words always dripping with venom. He never once called me by my name. I’d always thought it was just a boy’s jealousy, angry that I had stolen his beloved uncle’s attention. Now I knew the truth. He hated me for taking his mother’s place. A blade of ice seemed to plunge into my chest, leaving a gaping, frozen wound. Just then, a look of faux concern crossed Rosalind’s beautiful face. “You deliberately made Tia fall in love with you. For three years, she’s worked herself to the bone for you.” “She’ll be heartbroken when she finds out the truth. Can you really be so cruel as to cast her aside?” Julian’s eyes flickered for a second, then he let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “Tia? A gold-digging liar raised by beggars? She was never worthy of being an Astor. Besides, I’ve given her more than she ever deserved. What right does she have to be heartbroken?” A gold-digging liar. So that’s all I was to him. A bitter smile twisted my lips, and the last of the color drained from my face. For three years, I had leveraged my career, my reputation, my everything for him. I had humbled myself, begging for his sake. I’d entertained his clients until I was vomiting blood, worked on his documents until I collapsed from exhaustion and ended up in the hospital. And I never complained. Not once. Because I truly loved him. All I wanted was to see him happy. Every night, he would bring me water, massage my tired feet, his eyes filled with what I thought was genuine concern for the toll my work was taking. I was so lost in the sweetness of it all, I never saw the truth. It was all a lie. That banquet two years ago… when that investor groped me, Julian’s face had turned to stone, but he did nothing. I thought he was enduring the humiliation for the sake of the deal. Now I realized he simply didn’t think a gold digger like me was worth offending a powerful man over. My lips trembled. I fought back the searing pain in my heart and turned to leave. But Rosalind’s voice, sharp with surprise, cut through the air. “Tia? What a coincidence. You’re at the airport too.” 2 Julian whipped his head around. When his eyes met mine, a flicker of panic crossed his handsome face. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a series of texts. What are you doing here? Are you following me? Go home. Now. Before I lose my temper. I stared at the messages popping up on the screen, a wave of bitter absurdity washing over me. For years, whenever his “selective mutism” flared up, this was how we communicated. He would point to his phone, and I would read his words. Three years. Tens of thousands of messages. My phone’s memory had filled up again and again, but I could never bring myself to delete them. I thought they were our special memories, a testament to our love. Now I saw them for what they were: proof he had never loved me at all. I pressed the power button, and the screen went dark. Something inside me went dark with it. I looked up at them, my voice surprisingly steady. “Since you can speak, why bother texting? Today was the day I was flying to Singapore to close that ten-billion-dollar deal. I wasn’t following you.” I paused, letting my next words land with the weight they deserved. “I heard everything. I’m not feeling well. I won’t be closing any deals today.” Rosalind’s face tightened with alarm. She rushed forward and grabbed my hand. “Tia, I know I’m Julian’s ex, but you’re his wife now. What you heard… we were just joking around. Don’t misunderstand.” I yanked my hand away. She stumbled back dramatically, nearly falling. Her eyes welled with tears as she looked at me, her voice trembling. “Tia, I was just trying to explain. Why did you have to push me so hard?” It was a pathetic, transparent lie. But Julian reacted instantly. His hand flew out, and the sharp crack of his palm against my cheek echoed in the terminal. His face was a thunderous mask as he glared at me. “Who gave you the right to touch her?” My cheek burned. I looked up to see Julian shielding Rosalind, his eyes filled with a murderous rage directed entirely at me. My heart felt like it was being twisted by a serrated knife. For some reason, my mind flashed back to my first year at the Astor Media network. I was being hazed by the senior staff, and it was Julian who stepped in to save me. He gave me resources, mentored me, and championed my rise to lead anchor. When I was hurt, he was always there. When he was humiliated by the board and forced to face his father’s wrath in the family study, I had thrown myself in front of him, taking the eighteen lashes from his father’s cane that were meant for him. I still have the scars on my back. That was the first time I ever saw him cry. He held me so tightly. “Tia,” he had whispered into my hair, “you’re my woman. I’m supposed to protect you.” “Don’t you ever do that again. You’re more important than anything.” I had been so weak I couldn’t move, but I hadn’t felt the pain. I was drowning in the sweetness of his love. Now, this one slap from him was a pain beyond endurance, a disappointment so profound it shattered me completely. I closed my eyes. “Julian, I’m done being your fool.” “Since you love someone else, let’s get a divorce.” 3 His face was a canvas of shock, which quickly melted into a sneer. “Don’t play the victim, Tia. Of all the gold diggers out there, I chose you to be Mrs. Astor.” He took a step closer, his voice dripping with condescension. “I made you. From a nobody to the most famous financial anchor in the city. I gave you money, power, access. You got everything you ever wanted. So how exactly are you a fool?” “And divorce?” He scoffed. “I decide when this is over. You don’t have the right to even suggest it.” His arrogance was a physical blow, shattering what was left of my heart into dust. I stared at him, forcing back the tears that burned my eyes. “I really did love you, Julian.” “You think I faked my background because I’m a gold digger desperate to climb the social ladder. But I only did it so I could marry you.” The resources he gave me were just opportunities. I was the one who worked myself to the bone to seize them, not just for myself, but to help him, to make him happy. But the truth didn’t matter anymore. A desolate smile touched my lips. “I’m willing to step aside. Just make it a clean break.” A flash of triumph lit Rosalind’s eyes. Julian, however, looked as if he’d been struck. His pupils constricted, and his lips twisted into a cruel smirk. “Feelings, Tia? Does a gold digger even have those? Still spewing lies at a time like this. It’s pathetic.” “Don’t worry,” he added, his voice like ice. “We’ll be divorced in three days. At most.” I didn’t argue. I went straight back to the Astor mansion. For three years, my in-laws had been nothing but kind to me, and I had deceived them. The guilt was crushing. I confessed everything. “Mr. and Mrs. Astor, I’m so sorry. My parents aren’t university professors. They’re just ordinary people. My high-society identity was a lie from the very beginning. Scold me, punish me… I’ll accept whatever you decide.” Mrs. Astor simply stared for a moment, then took my hand in hers, her grip firm and warm. “Silly girl,” she said softly. “We knew you were faking it from the day we met you.” “Then why…?” I choked, unable to finish the sentence. Mr. Astor spoke, his voice calm and steady. “Because aside from your background, you were flawless.” “It’s true,” his wife added. “We saw how you cared for Julian, how you dedicated yourself to this family. We saw your kindness, your brilliance. In these three years, we’ve come to think of you as our own daughter. Do you really think we care where you came from?” Tears streamed down my face. I tried to smile through them. “But… Julian has never loved me. Rosalind is back, and he’s going to marry her. I’ve already agreed to the divorce. I’ll pack my things tonight and be gone.” The warmth drained from their faces, but they didn’t try to stop me. “Child,” Mr. Astor said, his voice grave, “we know our son. If he has made a terrible mistake, do not spare him on our account. You teach him the lesson he deserves. And remember this: we can live without a son, but we cannot live without you.” I cried in their arms for a long time before finally going up to my room. My eyes fell on our wedding photos, on all the relics of our “sweet” past, and my mind drifted. Just then, Leo walked in with a glass of orange juice. “Grandma and Grandpa said you were sad today. I brought this to cheer you up.” I looked at the five-year-old boy. He was the spitting image of Rosalind. How had I never seen it before? Still, I had helped raise him for years. It would be rude to refuse his farewell gift. “You should be happy more often,” he said, his tone oddly adult. “Don’t always look so serious.” I took the glass and drank. The taste was… wrong. Suddenly, Leo burst out laughing, a triumphant, ugly sound. “How does dog piss taste, you bitch? You think you can seduce my dad just because you’re pretty? Shameless!” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t think I don’t know Julian is my real dad! Now my mom is back, and you can get the hell out!” My stomach heaved. I scrambled to the bathroom and retched until there was nothing left. When I stumbled out, Leo was waiting by the door. He shoved me, hard. Caught off guard, I tumbled backward down the grand staircase. My head cracked against a marble step, and a warm rush of blood instantly matted my hair. “You stupid bitch,” he sneered, “I’ll make Grandpa and Grandma hate you. Then they’ll have to love my mom.” Pain exploded through my body. Through a blurry haze, I saw Leo smear my blood on his own forehead and then start screaming at the top of his lungs. “Help! Tia’s hitting me! She’s hitting me!” “Tia!” Julian was suddenly there, I don’t know when he’d returned. He scooped Leo into his arms. His eyes were terrifyingly sharp. “You’d take your anger out on a child? When did you become so vicious?” I lay on the floor, the pool of my own blood spreading around me, unable to move. “I… didn’t.” Leo’s wails grew louder. “She started picking on me the second she got home! She said she hates me! Uncle Julian, it hurts!” “It’s okay, Leo, I’ve got you. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Julian soothed the boy, then shot me a look of pure disgust. “You’re a grown woman. Can’t you get up on your own? Or is this another pity play to win my forgiveness?” With that, he turned and rushed out the door with Leo in his arms. I watched him go, the pain in my heart eclipsing the pain in my head. A few years ago, when I had collapsed from exhaustion, he had raced me to the hospital, terrified I wouldn’t be okay. Now, I was lying in a pool of my own blood, and he didn’t care. He thought I was acting. So this is what it feels like when your heart dies. 4 When I regained consciousness, Julian was on the phone. His voice was soft. “Rosalind, don’t worry. Leo’s fine.” Rosalind’s voice was shrill even through the receiver. “I’ll make Tia pay for this!” Julian sighed. “Let it go. She was hurt badly. She was unconscious for a whole day.” He lowered his voice. “The succession gala is the day after tomorrow. That’s when I’ll do it. I’ll bring her beggar parents on stage and expose her for the fraud she is. Once she and her trash family are gone, the three of us can finally be together. So don’t be angry, okay?” He hung up and reached out to touch my forehead, his eyes softening with a flicker of something that looked like gentleness. I opened my eyes and jerked my head away. He froze. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept, but his handsome face quickly settled back into its familiar, cold mask. “You’re awake. The doctor said you have a fracture. Rest for the next two days. You need to accompany me to the gala. You can’t be absent.” I closed my eyes. I had already agreed to a divorce. Why did he still need to use me as a stepping stone? To humiliate me further, to continue paving the way for his true love? The one who falls in love first always loses. Seeing that I wasn’t responding, he left without another word. That afternoon, Rosalind paid me a visit. Her eyes were filled with contempt. “You’re tough, I’ll give you that. My son pushes you down a flight of stairs, and all you get is a fracture. I guess beggars are built to last.” The pain from my injuries was a dull, constant throb. I didn’t have the strength to fight back. I remained silent. “I know all about the stupid things you did to win him over,” she continued, her voice dripping with condescension. “Staying up all night embroidering his favorite cartoon character on a pillow just to coax him into taking his cold medicine. Pathetic. And for what? He only loves me.” When I still didn’t speak, a flicker of annoyance crossed her face. She pulled a thick stack of papers from her designer handbag and threw them onto my bed. “It’s not just my son who loves me. Julian loves me more than anything. Every single night, after you were asleep, he was on a video call with me.” “This,” she said, gesturing to the papers, “is our chat history. Eight hundred pages. From the day you got married, he has never missed a single night of telling me, ‘Goodnight, I love you, wifey’.” “For three years, he never once thought of you as his wife! You were always just a pawn.” I stared at the pages scattered across the white bedsheets. Even though my heart was already dead, even though I knew our three-year dream was a lie, I never imagined this. That they had never lost contact. A single glance at the pages revealed the depth of his devotion to her. I felt like I was submerged in ice water, the cold and pain making it impossible to breathe. Rosalind seemed pleased with my reaction. She pressed her advantage. “Surprised? He loves me so much he was willing to fake an illness for three years. He loves me so much he was willing to touch you, a disgusting beggar girl!” Her voice turned venomous. “He told me every time he touched you, he had to shower for hours afterward just to feel clean enough to sleep.” “Enough!” I shrieked, my body shaking uncontrollably. I screamed for the nurse to get her out. “Worthless beggar,” Rosalind sneered as she was escorted out. “On the day of the succession, you and your whole family can go crawl back to the gutter where you belong.” She turned, her heels clicking smartly on the polished floor as she left. I collapsed back onto the pillows, closing my eyes in despair. A few seconds later, I picked up my phone and dialed my secretary. “On the day of the Astor succession gala,” I said, my voice cold and clear, “initiate a full short sale on Astor Corp.” I had been weak because I loved Julian Astor. But he had forgotten who I was. I was the woman who had clawed her way out of the slums. I was no fragile flower, easily crushed. He didn’t want a peaceful separation. Fine. Then I would make sure he knew nothing but pain. 5 On the night of the gala, my parents arrived, dressed in elegant, well-fitting clothes, their movements hesitant and cautious. “Look,” a socialite sneered to her friend, “there they are. Tia’s fake ‘professor’ parents. They’re actually just beggars.” A wave of suppressed laughter rippled through the crowd. “Look at their hands. So wrinkled and rough. You can tell they’ve spent their lives in filth.” “They don’t even know how to stand properly. I can smell the poverty from here.” “I can’t believe Mr. Astor put up with it for three years. He told us all to be here tonight to give them a proper humiliation and welcome Ms. Wright. When he arrives, we really have to put on a show!” My parents must have overheard some of the whispers. Their faces grew tighter with shame, but they tried not to show it. My father, trying to imitate the other guests, reached for a glass of champagne. But his hands, covered in calluses and cracked skin, were a stark, jarring contrast to the delicate, crystal flute. The waiter’s disdainful glance was like a physical burn, and he snatched his hand back. My mother’s eyes lingered on the exquisite pastries on the buffet table, and she swallowed unconsciously. The gesture immediately drew a sharp laugh from a nearby heiress. “Has she been reincarnated from a starving ghost? It’s like she hasn’t eaten in a century. I feel like I’m catching the stench of poverty just by being in the same room.” My mother’s face flushed a deep crimson. She looked down at the floor like a scolded child. Watching them, I felt as if a thousand needles were being driven into my heart, over and over again. My parents had lived a life of hardship, but they had always given me their best. And now, because of my foolish pursuit of a lie, they were being flayed alive in this glittering palace of cruelty. They didn’t understand the rules of this world, but they remembered the roles I had asked them to play, and they were trying so desperately to protect their daughter’s fragile dignity. My fists clenched. Finally, Julian arrived, with Rosalind on his arm, the picture of a king and his queen. I walked straight through the sea of mocking eyes and stopped in front of him. He gave me a cold look, and just as he was about to speak, I threw two documents at his chest. “Sign the divorce papers. After this, you and I are done.” One was our divorce agreement. The other was a paternity test. It proved, conclusively, that Julian Astor and Leo had no biological relationship. The room erupted in shocked gasps. As Julian stared at the papers, his face a mask of disbelief, I turned, took my parents and his own parents by the arm, and walked out of that disgusting hall with my head held high. “Tia! What is the meaning of this? Stop right there!” Julian’s face was dark with fury. He started to follow, but his phone began to ring, then ring again, a frantic, incessant sound that stopped him in his tracks. He answered it, roaring, “What?” The voice on the other end was hysterical. “Mr. Astor, it’s a catastrophe! The company’s stock is in freefall! Someone initiated a massive short sale! We’re about to go bankrupt!” “And the one who did it… it was your wife, Ms. Tia Wright!”

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I sent the text to my best friend, Sophie, then hopped in the shower. A simple message: We’re getting married next month. When I got out, my phone, usually quiet, was a bonfire of notifications. The group chat, dormant for weeks, had exploded with 99+ messages. Curiosity piqued, I opened it. Everyone was tagging Ethan. Congrats, man! Eight years, about damn time! Dude, when did you propose? You kept that locked down tight. Dibs on best man. I’m calling it now, no arguments. I frowned. Ethan was getting married? To whom? Then a message from Jess, Ethan’s lifelong best friend—the “one of the guys” girl—popped up. Son, getting married is a big deal. Why didn’t you tell your old lady? The next message was from Ethan himself, and it was tagged to me. @Olivia, what’s this? The silent treatment wasn’t working, so now you’re trying to force my hand? 1 After I texted Sophie about the wedding next month, I went to take a shower. When I came back, my phone, which was usually dead quiet, had blown up. A group chat I was in had over 99 new messages. I opened it, curious. Everyone was tagging Ethan. [Congratulations! After eight years, you’re finally tying the knot.] [Ethan, my man, when did you propose? You kept that under wraps.] [I call best man, don’t even try to fight me on it.] I frowned. Ethan was getting married too? Just then, Jess, his female best friend, sent a message. [Son, how could you not tell your mom about something as huge as getting married? You ungrateful child!] The very next second, Ethan tagged me. [What, the silent treatment didn’t work, so now you’re trying to force a wedding?] The lively chat went dead silent. The shock of his words hung in the air for a long, awkward moment. My heart stuttered. I frantically scrolled up through the chat history and there it was, a message I’d sent by mistake. [Hey gorgeous, I’m getting married on the 28th of next month. Make sure you book the time off. You’re my maid of honor.] I sighed, exasperated with myself. My thumbs were already flying across the keypad, typing out a clarification. But Ethan beat me to it. [@Olivia, forget it. I’m not marrying you. If you’re really sorry, pack your shit and come back on your own. Stop with these ridiculous games.] He added another message. [And on your way back, pick me up some tacos from that place you know I like.] Seeing his words, my hands froze over the screen. A friend in the chat, clearly confused, finally broke the silence. [Wait, so there’s no wedding?] Ethan replied instantly. [Of course not. You think I’m ready to be tied down? Please.] Jess chimed in. [Told you. As if my son would get married and his own mom wouldn’t know.] [But you guys have been together for eight years. I heard that if you date for more than ten, it’s hard to ever get married.] Ethan’s reply was casual, dismissive. [So it’s hard. Then we just won’t. Who cares?] One of the kinder friends must have felt the sting on my behalf. [Uh, dude… Olivia’s still in the chat.] Ethan just sent back a smug-looking emoji. Jess then typed, [Alright, can you guys just drop it? Think how awkward this is for Olivia!] Then she tagged Ethan. [Son, you on for some ranked matches?] Ethan: [You log on first. Daddy’s on his way.] And then, one last tag for me. [@Olivia, when you get back, tidy up the apartment and take out the trash. I’m about to game, don’t bother me.] I took a deep, steadying breath. I deleted the apologetic explanation I had been typing and started fresh. [Sorry everyone, I was in the shower and just saw this. I’m getting married on the 28th of next month at The Empyrean Ballroom. You’re all welcome to come if you’re free.] I paused, then typed the final sentence. [By the way, the groom isn’t Ethan.] I hit send. Then I exited the chat for good. 2 Ethan and I got together our freshman year of college. It was an eight-year relationship. He was the one who pursued me, a grand, campus-wide campaign that everyone knew about. But once he had me, it was I who did all the compromising. Every time we fought, I was the one to apologize. If I didn’t, he could go two months without speaking a single word to me. Our most recent fight was because he’d stayed up all night gaming with Jess. Jess was his childhood friend, and their jokes often crossed a line that made me uncomfortable. The worst I ever heard was when Ethan, on an open voice chat, said to her, “If I carry this match, you’d better be on your knees ready to worship me.” Jess, never one to be outdone, shot back, “If you can actually fly, I’ll blow you… all the way to the top.” I couldn’t listen anymore. I lost my temper right then and there. Ethan’s reaction was to call me dramatic. He said he only saw Jess as a brother. They used to go skinny-dipping in the creek as kids, for God’s sake. If he was going to make a move on her, wouldn’t he have done it by now? I cried all night, my hurt completely invisible to him. He just kept playing with Jess, duo-queuing until the sun came up. Only when Jess said she was tired did he finally put down his phone to sleep, without a single word to me. The next morning, my mom called. She told me a friend from my hometown had just gotten married and asked, again, when it would be my turn. I suddenly remembered a conversation from a few weeks prior. I had asked Ethan if he ever thought about marriage. He had laughed, that careless, charming laugh of his. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t have a single thought about marriage right now. If that’s what you really want, you’re with the wrong guy.” In that moment, something inside me settled. A profound, quiet clarity. I hung up with my mom. I calmly got out of bed and looked at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes swollen like walnuts. I packed my bags. When Ethan finally got up, I placed my key on the counter by the door. “Ethan, I’m leaving.” He just scoffed, said nothing, and walked back into the bedroom. After breaking up with Ethan, I let my family set me up on a few dates. It was clumsy and discouraging at first. I was ready to give up, convinced that you couldn’t shortcut your way to real connection. But then, on the very last setup, I met him. The man I had always hoped for. With our parents’ blessing, we dated for two months and decided to get married. When I was with Ethan, marriage felt like an impossible mountain to climb, fraught with obstacles and endless considerations. But when I met the right person, I realized it wasn’t a mountain at all. It was just the natural flow of a river reaching the sea. I had, for the most part, already forgotten Ethan. If it weren’t for today’s misfired text, he might have stayed a ghost. I used to think that forgetting him would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do. I won’t deny it; the first few weeks after moving out of his place were brutal. I was constantly checking my phone, my moods swinging from irrational anger to deep, hollowing sadness. I had no appetite. I couldn’t sleep. I know exactly how painful that process is. It feels like being pulled into a bottomless abyss, sinking so fast you can’t even catch your breath. And it went on like that. A day, then two, then a month… Until one day, I was eating, and I tasted something I loved. Really tasted it. I finished my plate and went back for seconds, then thirds. I knew then. Ethan and I were finally a closed chapter. 3 The next day, Daniel and I went for our engagement photoshoot. Daniel is my fiancé. He’s thirty, tall, with a quiet, refined grace. He’s the complete opposite of Ethan. Daniel is mature, stable, and his emotions are a calm sea. He discusses things before they become problems. Being with him feels safe. It feels like coming home. Ethan was a wildfire. Passionate, full of restless energy, completely impulsive. He would wake me in the middle of the night to go on a spontaneous hike, or he’d invite a dozen of his friends over on a Tuesday night when I was exhausted from work, without a word of warning. He never once considered anyone’s feelings but his own, his actions dictated solely by the whim of the moment. I used to believe that love was about mutual sacrifice, about bending yourself to fit another person. But with Daniel, I’ve learned that with the right person, you don’t have to change or force anything. You just… fit. We were halfway through the photoshoot when my phone rang. I was taking a break, sitting in a folding chair, and I saw Ethan’s name on the screen. Honestly, I was surprised. I never thought Ethan would be the one to call me first. Especially since he hadn’t so much as sent a text after I blew up the group chat last night. I answered. “What’s your game?” he asked, his voice cold and clipped. “What’s this ‘the groom isn’t me’ bullshit? Your little tricks are getting more elaborate.” It was true that our cycle of fighting, me giving the silent treatment, and me leaving had happened before. Each time, I was pathetically trying to make him care, to make him miss me, to prove that he loved me. And each time, it had failed. In the end, it was always me who caved, who apologized, who begged to come back, dragging my suitcase back to his apartment. And he would always greet me with a smug, dismissive, “If you knew this was going to happen, why did you bother in the first place?” Looking back now, I can’t fathom why I allowed myself to be so utterly spineless. It was like I was possessed. So this is what it’s like to have your brain completely hijacked by love. “It’s not a trick, Ethan. I’m really getting married. And the groom isn’t you,” I said, my voice calm and distant. “Hah.” A scornful laugh. “Olivia, I’ve already taken the step of calling you. I’d advise you to take the win and quit while you’re ahead.” “Believe what you want.” I had nothing more to say and was about to hang up. “When you come home tonight, grab me some tacos from that place I like. We’ll call it even for this whole mess.” And with that, he hung up on me. I was genuinely furious. But was I angry at his staggering arrogance, or at the pathetic, weak version of myself who used to put up with it? Clenching my jaw, I opened the group chat from last night. I selected a candid shot the photographer had just taken—of Daniel and me, laughing, our faces close together. And I posted it.

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Just before college graduation, I asked my girlfriend a half-joking question. “What if my family went bankrupt? Owed a million dollars? Would you still marry me?” The light in her eyes flickered out. She made a flimsy excuse and left. The next day, she called me to a café to end things. “I asked around,” she said, her voice hard. “People are calling about your debts. You’re drowning, and you want to pull me under with you? In your dreams.” “We’re done. And I want half a million dollars. That’s my price.” Her best friend, sitting beside her, added a sympathetic hiss. “Don’t blame her, Ethan. If you really loved her, you wouldn’t want her to suffer, would you?” I looked at the scene they’d so carefully staged, and I almost laughed. Who told them it was my family in debt? It was her father’s loan shark. And his calls were coming to my house. 1 In a sterile downtown coffee shop, Isabelle had shed every last bit of the woman I thought I knew. Her voice, usually soft and melodic, was a raw, ugly thing. “Ethan! Are you deaf?” she shrieked, her voice turning heads at nearby tables. “Five hundred thousand dollars! Not a penny less! That’s what you owe me for the years I wasted on you! You will pay it!” I just stared at her, silent. Four years. I thought what we had was unbreakable. Turns out, it couldn’t even withstand the phantom menace of money. Our entire relationship, evaporated by a single, hypothetical question. Before I could even form a response, she leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Don’t even think about walking out of here until I get what I’m owed.” Just then, my phone vibrated violently on the table. The caller ID flashed: Sharon Vickers. Isabelle’s mother. I hit the speakerphone button. The voice that came through was even more shrill than her daughter’s, stripped of the sugary sweetness she usually reserved for me. “Ethan! Izzy told you, right?” “Let me be clear. Our Isabelle’s time is not free! You’re not just walking away after all these years!” “I know you have that condo in your name. Sell it. Get the money and give our Izzy her severance package!” The sheer, unadulterated entitlement of it all left me speechless. A hot surge of anger shot up my spine. To keep them from worrying, the only people who knew about the success of my startup were my parents and my best friend, Mark. To the world, and to Isabelle, I was just a regular guy with a decent nine-to-five. That condo—the one she was demanding I liquidate—I’d bought it with my own money. Paid in full. It was meant to be our first home together after we got married. Now, it was just an asset to be stripped. And the supposed million-dollar debt? A complete fabrication. A few days ago, a text message had come to my work phone. It was a collections notice, filled with graphic threats of broken limbs. The debtor wasn’t me. It was Richard Vickers. Isabelle’s father. He had forged my company’s corporate seal and used it to get a massive loan from a shark. One million dollars, principal. With the vig, God only knew what it was now. Isabelle and her mother had clearly gotten wind of the debt collectors and jumped to the conclusion that my business had failed, that I was the one facing financial ruin. My little joke had simply been a test to see how they’d react. The results were… clarifying. “Our Izzy’s youth is priceless! You have to pay!” Sharon’s voice grated through the phone’s speaker. I forced down the fury churning in my gut, carefully lacing my voice with exhaustion and defeat. “You’re right, Sharon. I understand.” “It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry for what I’ve put Izzy through.” “I’ll go home and get the money together right now. We can meet and settle this in person, okay?” Hearing me fold, Sharon’s tone instantly softened. “Well, it’s about time. At least you have some decency left.” “Be at our house. Seven o’clock. Bring the money and the settlement papers.” The call ended. I looked up at Isabelle. A triumphant smirk played on her lips, but her eyes were filled with nothing but contempt. “Glad you finally see things clearly,” she said. I nodded slowly and walked out of the coffee shop. The moment the door closed behind me, I dialed Mark. “Mark, I need a favor.” “I need everything you can find on a loan Richard Vickers took out using my company’s name. I need ironclad proof he signed the papers.” “And one more thing. I need you to put together a little gift package for me. I’m going to see my future in-laws tonight.” Mark’s voice was calm and steady on the other end. “Consider it done.” I hung up. I couldn’t wait to see just how far they were willing to take this performance. 2 At seven o’clock sharp, I was standing on the Vickers’ doorstep. The door was opened by Isabelle’s best friend, Jenna. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, her disdain practically dripping from her eyelashes. “Oh, you actually showed up. You got the money?” I ignored her and walked straight into the living room. The Vickers clan was assembled on the couch like a royal tribunal. On the coffee table in front of them was a sea of new luxury handbags and jewelry boxes, the price tags still attached. It seemed they’d already started spending my “severance.” Sharon’s face fell when she saw my empty hands. “Ethan. Where is the money?” She slid a document across the table. The title was printed in an obnoxious, bold font: SEPARATION AND COMPENSATION AGREEMENT. In cold, hard print, it stipulated that I was to pay Isabelle a one-time lump sum of five hundred thousand dollars for “emotional distress and wasted time.” Rick, Isabelle’s father, sat beside her, sighing dramatically, his brow furrowed with fake concern. “Ethan, son, I hate to say it, but how did you let your business get this bad? Izzy’s really had a rough time, sticking by you.” Isabelle’s eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying for hours. “Ethan, darling, I didn’t want it to come to this,” she whispered, her voice catching. “But I can’t chain my future to a failure. My parents worked so hard to give me everything. I can’t let them suffer because of your mistakes.” She delivered the lines with such conviction, she almost seemed to believe she was the victim. Jenna chimed in from the side, her voice dripping with venom. “Izzy is just too nice. If it were me, I’d be asking for a lot more than five hundred thousand.” “I mean, a grown man who can’t even support himself, dragging a woman down with him? Pathetic. You should be grateful she’s letting you off this easy.” My gaze drifted from their faces to Rick’s wrist. He was wearing a limited-edition Patek Philippe. I recognized it. I’d seen the same model at an auction last month. It went for just under a million dollars. So that’s where the loan money went. Seeing me hesitate, Sharon grew impatient. She tapped a manicured finger on the agreement. “Sign it! Sign it, and go get the money!” “Oh, and that BMW of yours. You’ll sign the title over to Izzy. Think of it as a little bonus.” “Don’t tell me you don’t have it. The car is still in your name, isn’t it?” Unbelievable. This wasn’t a breakup settlement. This was a shakedown. They wanted to bleed me dry. I kept my mask on, letting my face crumple into a mask of anguish and despair. “Sharon… Izzy…” I stammered. “The company… it’s gone. It’s all gone. I don’t have fifty thousand, let alone five hundred thousand.” “I have nothing left. Not a single penny.” As the words left my mouth, I saw it. A flicker of pure, animal panic in Rick’s eyes. He was scared. He was terrified that if I couldn’t pay, the fire he started would finally burn its way back to him. Oh, this was getting good. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they finally learned the truth. It was going to be spectacular. 3 “No money?” Sharon’s lips curled into a vicious sneer. “You have no money? What about your parents?” “I remember Izzy telling me they have that old house in the city. It’s got to be worth two, maybe three million by now!” “You’re their only son. The house is going to be yours eventually anyway. What’s the big deal about selling it now to fix your mess?” I stared at her, my mind reeling. Did she really just suggest that I go to my parents and demand they sell the home they’d spent their entire lives paying for—their nest egg, their only security—just to fund her daughter’s shopping sprees? Was she even human? I looked at Isabelle, desperately searching for a sign of protest, a flicker of shame. There was none. She nodded, her expression earnest. “Ethan, Mom’s right,” she said softly. “I’m sure your parents want me to be happy and secure, right? Just… for my sake. Go talk to them. I know they’ll understand.” In that moment, whatever was left of my affection for her finally, irrevocably, died. My parents were my line in the sand. No one crossed it. When my mother was in the hospital last year, I’d begged Isabelle to come with me, just for an hour. She’d claimed she already had plans to go shopping with Jenna. She never came. Not once. And now she was sitting here, looking me in the eye while casually plotting to liquidate my parents’ retirement. My voice was ice. “My mother was in the hospital after her surgery. You never visited. Not once. Do you remember that?” The color drained from Isabelle’s face. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Rick, sensing the shift in the room, quickly jumped in to play peacemaker. “Hey, hey, let’s not bring up old stuff. We’re all family here. What’s important is solving the problem at hand. We need to figure out how to pay off this debt.” I just laughed, a cold, empty sound. Sharon, thinking my silence was a sign of capitulation, decided to lay all her cards on the table. “Alright, Ethan, let me spell it out for you,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “You give us the half-million today. Your company is bankrupt, right? Perfect. You give us the cash, and then you can declare personal bankruptcy.” “That way, all your other debts get wiped out, and our Isabelle has a nice little nest egg to start her new life! It’s the perfect plan!” My entire worldview tilted on its axis. They wanted to use my parents’ life savings to secure their daughter’s future, while simultaneously having me declare bankruptcy to make her father’s loan shark debt disappear. I looked at the three of them, at their greedy, expectant faces, and I couldn’t find a word in the English language to describe the profound ugliness I was witnessing. 4 I stared at the three of them, a wave of nausea washing over me. Slowly, I leaned back against the sofa cushions. The desperate, defeated look on my face began to melt away, replaced by a cold, thin smile. “And what if I don’t?” The atmosphere in the room froze. Jenna was the first to snap. She leaped to her feet, pointing a finger at my face. “Don’t you dare try to back out of this, Ethan! You think you can just walk away?” “I’m warning you, if you don’t pay up, we will send a full account of how you ran your company into the ground and abandoned your pregnant girlfriend to every single person in your industry! We’ll post it everywhere! You’ll be ruined! No one will ever hire you again!” Sharon held up her phone, the screen glowing with a pre-written social media post. The headline read: Heartbreak and Betrayal: My Four Years with a Deadbeat Loser Who Left My Daughter with Nothing! The post itself was a masterpiece of fiction, painting me as a manipulative, social-climbing monster who had used her daughter and then tossed her aside. Their plan was to destroy me with public opinion. Isabelle, seeing me “cornered,” finally dropped her victim act. She turned to Jenna, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “The moment the money comes through, I’m going to the dealership and buying that MINI I wanted!” Jenna rushed to her side, and the two of them began plotting. “Totally! And then a month in Europe to de-stress.” “Yes! I’m going to buy so many bags in Paris, and that necklace we saw…” “Izzy, your new life is finally beginning!” They chattered on, divvying up my money as if I wasn’t even in the room. The sight of it was physically sickening. Sharon, seeing that I hadn’t moved, shot me a venomous look. She lunged forward and snatched my phone from my hand. She scrolled through my contacts, quickly finding my dad’s number. “Stop wasting time! Call them now!” she barked, shoving the phone back into my face. “Tell your parents you got some girl pregnant and you need money for an abortion! They’ll have to pay!” I froze. “Sharon, that’s… that’s not right.” “What choice do you have?” she snapped. “Your parents adore you. They’ll do anything to avoid a scandal. Tell them the girl wants a huge settlement. They’ll believe it.” Isabelle nodded eagerly. “She’s right, Ethan. Your parents love you so much. They’ll do anything to protect your reputation.” I looked from mother to daughter, a new level of fury building inside me. What were these creatures made of? “Make the call!” Sharon urged. “Tell them you need half a million, wired immediately!” Jenna chimed in, “Yeah, it’s going to be your money eventually anyway. What’s the big deal?” Just then, a frantic ringing cut through the tension. It was Rick’s phone. He fumbled it out of his pocket. When he saw the name on the screen—RHINO—his face went as white as a sheet. He shot a panicked look at us, scrambled to his feet, and stumbled out onto the balcony. “Hello… Rhino…” his voice trembled. “The money… I’m working on it… Just give me a couple more days…” I knew it was time. I stood up slowly and straightened my jacket. Sharon and Isabelle were still glaring at me, their eyes filled with menace. I just smiled at them. “You want your money so badly? Fine.” I took out my own phone, ignoring their confused looks, and pulled up a video file. Then, I turned the screen toward them. “But first, let’s watch a little movie.”

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I started dating a guy who was on a full-ride scholarship, the kind for students with serious financial need. A month after we made it official, he told me he’d unenrolled from the university’s financial aid program. I was stunned. “What about your living expenses next month?” My boyfriend, Ben, just grinned. “Well, there’s you, right? Your family’s loaded. Better to let someone who actually needs the spot have it.” Right. So I wasn’t here for a relationship. I was his new financial aid package. 1 “Babe, this omakase place has amazing reviews and the pictures look incredible. I’m taking you this weekend.” I stared at the link Ben sent me, a little confused. I thought things were tight for his family. As far as I knew, he was still on a work-study program and received grants to cover his costs. Why was he suggesting a sushi place that was easily $200 a person? Was he trying to impress me on our first “real” date? “Honestly, those fancy sushi places are more for the Instagram post than the food,” I texted back. “The taste is usually just okay. We don’t have to spend that much. We could just grab burgers or tacos somewhere.” “No way,” he replied instantly. “This is our first official date since I won you over. We can’t just do something ‘whatever.’ We’re going. The reviews are great, it can’t be bad.” Hearing that, I dropped it. I’d actually been to that place a few times, and the food was genuinely good. I only suggested something else because I was worried about the price gap between us. “Okay, then. Should I meet you there, or are you picking me up?” “I’ll come to your side of campus. Just call an Uber when it’s time and I’ll meet you by your dorm. I can’t have my girl walking all that way to find me.” I won’t lie, that made me feel a little warm inside. Ben and I had only gotten together last week. We weren’t even in the same college within the university. We met by chance during a university-wide business case competition. He was our team leader—focused, responsible, and a natural leader. Even though he didn’t come from money, he worked harder than anyone. He led our team all the way to first place. During that time, he asked me out. I actually said no at first. But after his relentless, charming pursuit, I—a girl who had never even been on a date before—finally caved. That’s how we got together. No flowers, no grand romantic gesture. We were just in the student union food court, and for the tenth time, he looked me dead in the eye and said, “Clara, I really like you. And whether you like me back or not, I’m not giving up.” I looked into his sincere, intense eyes and finally nodded. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s give it a try.” He broke into a huge grin and pulled me into a hug. And just like that, we were official. 2 Our dorms were on opposite ends of the campus. I was near the south gate, he was by the north. It’s a good fifteen-minute bike ride. The fact that he offered to come all the way to me… I thought, maybe this could really be nice. He seemed so thoughtful. The next day, I called an Uber Black right at our agreed-upon time. I watched the little car icon on my phone get closer and closer, but Ben was nowhere in sight. “How much longer?” I texted. “Almost there! Just got to the athletic fields!” “The fields? Ben, you need to hurry, the driver is almost here.” “I’m walking, not biking.” “What? We were supposed to meet at nine. It’s 9:05, and you’re still at the fields? On foot?” “Babe, just have the driver wait for a minute. I’ll walk faster, I can be there in ten.” “The driver charges extra for wait time, and it’s an Uber Black, it’s not cool to make them wait forever. Can you just grab one of those electric scooters? You can still make it.” “Ugh, those scooters are such a rip-off. It’s like, three dollars for a ten-minute ride!” I was getting annoyed but didn’t know what to say. Was I supposed to call him out over three dollars? Or ask why he couldn’t have just left his dorm fifteen minutes earlier? I closed my eyes and sighed. It was our first date. I didn’t want to start a fight. I opened Venmo and sent him $5. “Just grab a scooter and get here.” Ben accepted the payment instantly. “Thanks, sugar mama! Will work for food 😉 (winking cat emoji)” I frowned at the message. It left a weird taste in my mouth, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Two minutes later, Ben on a scooter and my Uber arrived at the exact same time. I gave him a look. He was late, and I was still a little irritated. 3 Then, he pulled a bagel out of his jacket pocket. “Babe, you were up so early, I bet you haven’t eaten. Here, I got this for you.” Seeing him carefully present the still-warm bagel, my annoyance melted away. I took it and had a bite. “It’s good, right?” he said, beaming. “I got you an everything bagel with cream cheese. They’re like, three bucks each.” Okay. So he wouldn’t spend three dollars on a scooter to be on time, but he’d spend three dollars on a bagel for me. Seeing that he was at least thoughtful, I decided to let it go. “Babe, why’d you get an Uber Black?” he asked as we got in the car. “They’re so much more expensive than a regular one. You could’ve saved that money for something else later.” “They’re cleaner and more comfortable,” I said simply. “Wow. My first time in an Uber Black is because of you. What did I ever do to deserve a girlfriend like you?” I just smiled and didn’t answer. 4 We had some time before our reservation, so we decided to stop by a Whole Foods nearby. I grabbed a cart and started tossing in my usual snacks. I also got a huge container of pre-cut watermelon. Ben’s eyes went wide as he looked at my overflowing cart. “Babe, what’s your monthly allowance? You’re buying so much stuff.” I thought for a second. “My mom gives me two thousand, and my dad usually slips me another grand. And I have a separate card for clothes and stuff.” “Whoa, you really are a sugar mama,” he said. “My parents send me two hundred bucks a month, and I make another two hundred from my work-study job. You get like, ten times what I do.” Hearing that, I felt a pang of guilt. “Hey, maybe we should just get some spicy noodles instead? I know a great place that’s super cheap and really good.” But he just waved his hand dismissively. “What’s the fun in that? I’ve never had real omakase before. Our first official date has to be special.” Since he was so insistent, I gave in. I figured I could just help him out a bit more with his expenses once we were back at school. Plus, his birthday was coming up. I could get him a really nice gift. I noticed that after a full lap of the store, he hadn’t picked out anything for himself. “Aren’t you getting anything?” I asked. “Me? Oh, okay. Thanks, babe!” Thanks for what? I quickly found out. 5 Ben went into what I can only describe as “supermarket sweep” mode. Instant ramen, energy drinks, snacks, fruit—he was throwing things into the cart like they were free. “Okay, let’s go,” he finally said. “It’s almost time for our reservation. Let’s check out.” I nodded and followed him to the register. “Is this all together?” the cashier asked. I was about to say we should split it, but Ben spoke first. “Yep, all together! Can we get two large bags, please?” “That’ll be $386.50. Who’s paying?” I glanced at Ben, who was busy bagging the groceries. I sighed. “I’ll get it.” “Would you like delivery?” the cashier asked. “Yes, plea—” “No, no, we’re good!” Ben cut me off. “We can carry it.” He immediately hoisted the two massive bags. I tugged on his sleeve, confused. “Why not get it delivered?” “Delivery costs extra, dude! And they only bring it to the campus gate. It’s better if you just Venmo me the delivery fee and I’ll carry it straight to your dorm room for you.” I just stared at him. Fine. If he wanted to carry it, let him. We were taking an Uber back anyway, it wouldn’t be that bad. “Let’s just go eat,” I said. Because of the heavy bagel I’d had earlier, I wasn’t that hungry. And since he was the one who insisted on this place, I figured if I ordered less, the bill wouldn’t be as bad for him. So I just picked three small things. “Babe, is that all you’re getting? Is that enough?” “I’m not super hungry, it’s fine.” “Are you trying to lose weight? You’re already so skinny, you don’t need to. You have to eat more. I won’t mind if you gain a little weight.” I took a sip of water, not wanting to get into it. Then I watched as Ben started ordering. Toro, uni, wagyu beef, oysters… he was ordering like someone else was paying for it. I frowned and put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Don’t order so much. We won’t be able to finish it.” He just patted his chest. “Don’t worry, I have a huge appetite. Nothing will go to waste.” He kept ordering. I just shrugged. Whatever. As long as he was happy. 6 My dishes came out first. I had ordered a small appetizer, a sushi plate, and a dessert. I had just picked up my fork to try the appetizer when Ben leaned over and scooped half of it onto his plate. “Mmm… it’s okay. Not as good as I expected.” I silently pulled the remaining half of my appetizer and my dessert closer to me. We were still in the early stages of dating; I wasn’t ready to share saliva yet. Then he started on my sushi plate. He didn’t finish a single piece. He just took one bite out of each one. “I’m just testing them for you,” he said, chewing loudly. “They’re all different flavors.” He kept chewing. “Okay, this one’s good. I only took a little bite, you can have the rest. This one’s mediocre, don’t eat it, I’ll finish it for you.” I watched this horror show, my brows furrowed so deep you could lose a coin in them. “You know what,” I said, “you can just have it all. I’m not really in the mood for rice anymore. I’ll just order something else.” “See, this is what I’m talking about. You order food and then you don’t eat it. If I wasn’t here, it would all go to waste. A boyfriend’s job is basically to be a human garbage disposal. You can’t be this wasteful when I’m not around. Or, you could just pack up your leftovers for me.” He was still talking while eating my sushi. A single grain of rice flew out of his mouth and landed in my appetizer. I felt my stomach turn. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing. I just need to use the restroom.” 7 I stayed in the bathroom for a while, texting my best friend a play-by-play of the disaster date. I wasn’t even sure what I was complaining about, but the whole day just felt… off. When I came back, the table in front of Ben was a war zone of empty plates. I sat down and just watched him eat. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked. “Not enough? Here, have some of mine, I ordered a ton.” I quickly shook my head. “No, you eat. I’m really not hungry.” He nodded and went back to chewing, still talking with his mouth full. “I thought food this expensive would be mind-blowing, but it’s just… whatever.” “You really need to eat more. You can’t just starve yourself to be skinny, you’ll ruin your health. It’s not worth it.” “Look at you. You ordered three things and you only had one bite of that appetizer. If I wasn’t here, it would all be wasted. That’s not a good habit, you know. My mom always told me food is precious and we can’t waste it. You should be grateful to have me.” “Haha, you’re right,” I said, trying to subtly lean away from him so he wouldn’t spray food on me. Finally, after another ten agonizing minutes, he was done. “Okay, let’s pay and head back to campus.” “Sounds good,” I said. “You go ahead and get the check, I’m just going to use the restroom.” He stood up. “Waiter, check please!” he called out, and then headed for the bathroom. The waiter came over. “Hello, your total is $450.78. How will you be paying?” Even with my complete lack of dating experience, I knew something was very wrong. Who goes on a date and then conveniently has to go to the bathroom the second the bill arrives? I had just spent over three hundred dollars at the grocery store, and this meal, of which I’d had exactly one bite, was even more. I thought about it and got angry. I had told him we could go somewhere cheaper. He was the one who insisted on coming here. And he had the nerve to pull this stunt after I paid for all his groceries. No way was I paying for this meal. A text from Ben popped up on my phone: “My stomach’s a mess, might be in here for a while. You can just wait for me at a coffee shop or something.” I didn’t reply. I turned to the waiter. “Actually, I’m still hungry. Could you move me to a different table? I’d like to order some more things, and then you can bring one check for everything.” “Of course,” the waiter said. I thought for a second. “You know what, on second thought, can I just get it to go?” I ordered a bunch of my favorite dishes. By the time the waiter brought out the takeout bags, the Uber I’d called for campus delivery was pulling up. “Can you take these bags of food and those two grocery bags to the south campus gate? A campus delivery driver will meet you there.” “You got it,” the driver said. With everything settled, I clapped my hands together and turned to leave. The waiter hurried over to stop me. “Ma’am, with the takeout order, the new total is $631.24. Uh…” I raised an eyebrow. “The gentleman I was with is paying. He’s in the restroom.” I then yelled toward the bathroom. “Ben, I’m thirsty, I’m gonna go grab a coffee!” A voice immediately called back from inside. “Go ahead, babe! I’ll be right out!” I looked at the waiter. He nodded. “Right this way, ma’am.” And I walked out.

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