Category: English

I had spent a lifetime with Caroline Price. We made it all the way to our golden anniversary, with two grown children to show for it. As she lay dying, our son asked her if she had any last wishes. “When I’m gone,” she whispered, her voice a dry rasp, “bury me with your uncle. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” The room fell silent. Every eye turned to me, filled with a pity that burned worse than grief. I just nodded. “Do as she says.” The world called me a joke. A man who’d given everything, only to lose his wife’s heart at the very end. But they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know that if I had the chance to do it all again, I would never, ever marry Caroline Price. When I opened my eyes, I was standing at the altar. It was our wedding day. And just like I knew she would, Caroline had run. She’d left me there, a spectacle for the gossiping crowd. But I didn’t feel humiliated. I felt… relief. A deep, shuddering wave of it. My gaze drifted across the ballroom, landing on a girl in a crimson dress tucked away in a corner. “Sloane Kensington,” I said, my voice carrying in the sudden hush. “I’m short a bride. Are you willing to step in?” 1 The words hung in the air, silencing the whispers. Even the girl herself, who’d been nursing a drink, froze. She looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What… what did you just say?” The corners of her eyes were tinged with red. When she looked at me, something fragile and hopeful flickered in their depths. I smiled and walked toward her, my steps sure and steady in front of all our guests. “I said I want to marry you. Will you have me?” Sloane stared, her lips trembling with an emotion I couldn’t yet name. Before she could answer, Caroline’s parents rushed to my side, her mother grabbing my arm. “Ethan, dear boy, I know you’re hurt,” she pleaded. “That girl has made a fool of you today, but I’ve already sent people to drag her back.” “She’s just being immature, throwing a tantrum.” “Don’t you worry, as long as I’m here, you’re the only man she’s marrying. Don’t do this out of spite, Ethan. Don’t throw your life away on a whim.” I gently pulled my arm free. “Mrs. Price, you can’t force these things. And the truth is, I don’t have to marry Caroline. You should let them be together.” In my last life, I wasn’t blind. I knew the great love of her life, her tragic hero, had always been my younger brother, Noah. But Noah had a reputation. He’d left a trail of broken hearts and terminated pregnancies in his wake, and a doctor had confirmed he could never have children of his own. Caroline’s mother turned cold at the mention of his name. She would never consent to their union. But the merger of our two family companies had been arranged for years. And since Caroline and I had grown up together, and I’d harbored a pathetic childhood crush on her, the duty fell to me. Everyone said our fifty years of marriage was a testament to enduring love. But only we knew the bitter truth of it. We had spent fifty-five of our sixty years together sleeping in separate rooms. Caroline hated me. The night our daughter’s fever spiked so high we almost lost her, she never even showed up at the hospital. Every year, on our son’s birthday, she would spend the entire day at the cemetery. She drank herself into oblivion most nights, crying out Noah’s name in her sleep. In the beginning, I thought we could build something. That love could grow, that old wounds could fade. But year after year, we curdled into a bitter, resentful pair, and I realized some things can never be fixed. Now, I have a second chance. And I’m choosing to let her go. To let myself go. Seeing me take Sloane’s hand, Mrs. Price grew frantic. “Ethan, I’ve always seen you as my son-in-law! You can’t just marry someone else!” “I’ve never approved of Noah’s… manipulative act,” she spat. “Whatever stunt he pulled to get Caroline to run off today, I will not allow a man like that to marry my daughter.” In my first life, it was on this very day—our wedding day—that Noah, upon hearing the news, had tried to kill himself by jumping into the ocean. He left behind a note and a short video. “Caroline, I’m supposed to call you my sister-in-law, but the words ‘I love you’ are caught in my throat. I envy my brother. He gets you without even trying, while I always seem to be a step behind. If there’s a next life, Caroline… let me be the one to marry you.” Because her mother dismissed it as melodrama, forbidding her from leaving, the wedding went on. Noah really did jump. By the time they pulled his body from the water, he was cold and gone. This time, Caroline couldn’t bear to watch him die. The moment she received his video, her eyes went red with panic, and she bolted without a second thought. In my past life, that would have crushed me. But after living two lifetimes, I just felt a profound sense of peace. This time, I would choose the girl I wanted to marry. “Sloane Kensington,” I said, my voice ringing with clarity. “If you want to marry me, then come up here. This wedding is for us now.” Sloane’s lips curved into a smile, and her hand tightened around mine. “Okay,” she said. The room erupted. Caroline’s bridesmaids huddled together, furiously texting. “Caro, you might’ve actually overplayed your hand this time. Ethan is marrying someone else.” “I thought he was obsessed with her? That he’d do anything to marry her. How could he just swap out the bride?” “And of all people… he picked Sloane Kensington. The wild child.” “Maybe he’s just trying to get back at Caroline for leaving him at the altar? Just grabbing the first woman he saw to save face?” As Sloane and I walked toward the officiant, our fingers laced together, I could feel the heat of their stares. Her hand trembled in mine, and she ducked her head slightly. I knew what they were whispering. Sloane’s reputation was notorious. She was a fixture in the city’s most exclusive clubs, her name constantly linked in tabloid scandals with various actors and musicians. Her name was mud in our circle. No respectable family would have her. There were even vicious rumors that her chaotic lifestyle had led to her contracting HIV. But I knew that wasn’t the real her. “Ethan, is this an impulse?” she asked, her voice low as she pulled her hand away. Her beautiful eyes were shadowed with vulnerability. “If you need me to help you save face, I will. But… don’t ruin your life just to prove a point.” A pang of tenderness went through me. Before I could respond, the grand doors to the hall were thrown open with a crash. “Ethan, stop this nonsense!” My father stormed in, his face a mask of fury. “A wedding isn’t a game! You don’t just change the bride! Get over here, now!” The remaining guests shot to their feet, some rushing to greet him, to placate him. But his eyes, cold and hard, were locked on me. “What are you waiting for? Didn’t you hear me?” Sloane nudged me gently. “You should go,” she whispered. “Don’t make a scene.” But I didn’t move. For my entire life, that look on his face had been enough to make me fold. He’d tell me to give my favorite toy to Noah, and I would. He’d tell me to give Noah the bedroom with the best light, and I’d pack my things without a word. When he told me to marry Caroline, I agreed without protest. But not today. Today, for once, I wanted to be the rebel. “Dad,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm. “I’m marrying Sloane.” “I will always listen to you. But this one time, I need to choose the person I spend my life with.” Crack. The sound of his hand striking my face echoed through the silent hall. “You ungrateful child,” he seethed. “If you dare to marry this girl today, then you are no longer my son!” I looked up at him, a slow, tired smile spreading across my face. “Fine. Then let’s cut ties.” No one could believe it. Ethan Rhodes, the family’s famously obedient son, was talking back. My father’s face went white with rage, his chest heaving. “For this… this degenerate? You’d disown your own father in front of everyone for her? I see I’ve been far too lenient with you!” After my mother died and he married my stepmother, who gave him Noah, his fists became a regular part of my life. He raised his hand again. But this time, it never landed. A slender hand, all sharp angles and delicate bones, shot out and clamped around his wrist. Sloane stepped in front of me, her face cold and resolute. “You touch him again,” she said, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “I dare you.” My eyes burned. No one, in my entire life, had ever stood up for me like that. They all wondered why I would choose Sloane Kensington, the disgraced heiress. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, on the day I fell gravely ill, it was also the anniversary of Noah’s death. My wife and my father were both at the cemetery, tending to the memory of the person who mattered most to them. No one cared if I lived or died. The doctors issued a critical condition notice. My dozens of calls to them were met with impatient dismissals. It was Sloane who, like a madwoman, pulled strings to get me medical resources from the next state over. It was Sloane who literally dragged me back from the brink of death. Later, when Caroline’s business dealings made her an enemy, someone set fire to our family home. I was trapped, my leg pinned by a burning cabinet, clutching my two crying children, screaming for Caroline to help us. But she ignored me. She ran straight to the study to save a photograph of Noah. And once again, it was Sloane who came. She charged into the inferno without a second’s hesitation, carrying my children out one by one. As the main beam of the house groaned, ready to collapse, I screamed at her. “Sloane, get out of there!” She was too late. As the flames swallowed her, the last thing I saw was her smile—a smile that told me not to worry. From that day on, I had my own ghost, my own lost cause. The one who had died for me. Only after she was gone did I learn the true depth of her hidden love. So this time, I would protect her. I would choose her, and only her, without a moment’s hesitation. My father’s eyes were practically shooting sparks. “Ethan, I’m asking you one last time. You’re choosing this woman?” “Yes,” I said, my voice firm. He let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Fine. You have guts. I hope you don’t live to regret it.” He turned and left. Many of the guests who were there to curry his favor followed him out. Mrs. Price sneered. “This marriage is clearly not meant to be, Ethan. But if you change your mind and still want my Caroline, my offer stands.” I ignored them all. I took Sloane’s hand and led her up to the stage. “We can begin,” I told the officiant. Most of the guests allied with the Rhodes and Price families were gone. Only a handful of friends remained scattered in the vast hall. But I was smiling, truly smiling, as Sloane and I completed the ceremony. “From this day forward, I’m your husband.” “Sloane,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. We’re a team.” She smiled and pulled me into an embrace, her gaze deep and serious. With a weight that felt like a lifetime of waiting, she whispered one word. “Okay.” After the wedding, Sloane had me move into one of her properties, a beautiful house on the waterfront. To make it official, though, I had to go back to my father’s house to get my ID. I was just outside the gate when a red sports car came screeching around the corner, heading straight for me. Before I could react, Caroline lunged, grabbing my arm and shoving me hard to the pavement. “Are you blind?” she snapped, a contemptuous smirk on her face. “I thought you were done with the Rhodes family. What are you doing back here?” “I’m getting my ID so I can get my marriage license,” I said flatly. Her smirk vanished. Her face froze in disbelief. “What did you say? So the rumors are true? You’re actually marrying that train wreck?” Before I could answer, Noah, clad in a flashy red suit, hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Whoa, dude, my bad! Didn’t see you there, Ethan. Almost hit you,” he said, his tone oozing fake sincerity. “It’s my fault. Dad just got me this new car, and I got a little carried away. You’re not mad, are you?” The pride in his voice was sickening. I glanced at the gleaming new Porsche, then looked down and chuckled. “Not at all.” After all, I’d spent years living in that house like a guest. I was used to my father and stepmother doting on Noah. When I needed a simple, practical car for my internship, my father refused. But whenever Noah so much as hinted at wanting something, new sports cars appeared in the driveway like magic. It was then I truly understood the old saying: when a stepmother moves in, your real dad becomes a stepfather, too. “I’m just here to grab something,” I said, turning to leave. I’d only taken a few steps when a bucket of cold water cascaded down over my head. Caroline burst out laughing. Noah covered his mouth, feigning innocence. “Oops, sorry, bro. Everyone’s saying you’re marrying that wild child, Sloane. You know she’s got that… reputation. Probably carrying all sorts of viruses. Can’t have you bringing that into our house. Just helping you disinfect.” I saw the challenge in his eyes and stared back at him, my own gaze turning to ice. He seemed to enjoy it, stepping closer. “Seriously, man, I don’t get what you’re thinking. Caroline chose me, loud and clear. Even if she ditched you at the altar, you didn’t have to pick some random girl just to save face. You have no idea how messed up Sloane’s life is.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “When you’re in bed with her, won’t it make you sick thinking about all the other guys who’ve been there before you?” A cold smile touched my lips. “You should worry about your own woman.” Sloane had intentionally cultivated her wild reputation to keep men at a distance. She had a bad name, but she’d never been with anyone else. Caroline, on the other hand… In our last life, we were married for sixty years. But after our children were born, we lived separate lives. She could never get over Noah, her perfect, lost love. She would constantly bring home young men who bore a passing resemblance to him, parading their affairs in front of me. In my eyes, no one was dirtier than Caroline. A wicked idea sparked in my mind. I leaned closer to Noah. “Little brother,” I whispered, “the women you’re with are just my leftovers. Don’t believe me? She has a small, red birthmark on the inside of her right thigh. I’ve seen it countless times. You’re treasuring something I got tired of. Doesn’t that make you sick?” With that, I turned and walked away. Behind me, Noah’s face went pale. He and Caroline immediately started fighting. “Caroline, were you lying to me? How does my brother know about the birthmark on your thigh?” “Did you sleep with him behind my back?” Caroline, flustered and defensive, tried to explain. “No! That was—that was in our last life… I know that sounds crazy. Noah, believe me, I never touched him…” As their argument escalated, I couldn’t help but laugh. That’s what you get for talking trash about Sloane. Serves you right. Luckily, my father wasn’t home. I grabbed my ID and hurried out. On my way, I couldn’t resist grabbing a bucket of water from the garden hose and dousing Noah with it. Seeing him soaked and sputtering, I grinned. “There, little brother. Now we’re even.” “Get back here!” Caroline yelled, her face livid. For the first time, she left Noah’s side to chase after me. “Ethan, have you really thought this through?” she demanded. “Don’t think this little game of playing hard-to-get is going to make me want you again. I’ve made my choice. The only man I want in this life is Noah. No one can replace him.” I just smiled and turned back to her. “Then I wish you two a happy marriage. Now go back to your fiancé and leave me alone.” Her expression soured. “Ethan, I told you to stop with the games. Noah is pure and kind. He’s not manipulative like you. I’m warning you, don’t you dare hurt him. We may have been married for decades in another life, but you know I never loved you, so I suggest—” “I get it,” I cut her off, waving a dismissive hand. “If it makes you feel better, Sloane and I are planning to leave Boston. You’ll never have to see us again.” A heavy silence fell behind me. I didn’t care to engage any longer. My mind was already filled with the image of getting my marriage license with Sloane, and my steps felt lighter. As I reached the street, a car horn beeped twice. The window rolled down. It was Sloane. “Get in, husband.” I slid into the passenger seat with a smile. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still tied up at the office.” Sloane was taking a two-month leave of absence for our honeymoon. It was her company, but she still insisted on following procedure. “Had to make sure we get to the courthouse. Can’t risk someone else snatching my husband away if I wait too long,” she said, her eyes glancing lazily out the window. I followed her gaze. Caroline was standing at the gate, her fists clenched, her expression a mixture of anger and confusion. I leaned over, right in her line of sight, and pressed a firm kiss to Sloane’s lips. “Let’s go, wife.” A blush crept up Sloane’s neck. She nodded, smiling, so flustered she forgot to release the parking brake as she hit the gas. We left Caroline’s shrinking figure far behind. I was scrolling idly through my phone when a news alert popped up. “Rhodes Corporation CEO Formally Disowns Eldest Son, Ethan Rhodes.” I glanced at it and set the phone down without a word. “Sloane,” I said, turning to her. “I’m not a Rhodes anymore. Do you still want me? Do you feel like I’m not good enough for you now?” She blinked, then reached over and ruffled my hair. “Don’t be stupid.” She said we could build a different kind of life. We could work odd jobs, travel the world. She said she would never let me suffer. I watched her face, a quiet warmth spreading through my chest. She had ruined her own reputation just to shield herself from unwanted advances. People whispered that she was diseased. But I knew the truth. She’d never been in a real relationship, had never been with another man. It was always her who saved me. I used to think I was just lucky. But after Sloane died in my past life, her mother told me through her tears, “Ethan, my daughter has loved you since you were kids. She decided she would never marry because of you. Have you ever stopped to think… there’s no such thing as that much luck in the world? When your path feels easy, it’s because someone else is carrying the weight for you.” Sloane, I promised myself silently, this time, I will love you right. Married life was quiet and happy. Every day, Sloane came home from work with a small strawberry tart, my favorite. Worried I’d get bored at home, she would whisk me away on weekend road trips. But one night, about two weeks later, I was getting ready for bed when I realized it was nearly 11 PM and she wasn’t home. Then, a video popped up on my social media feed. “Sloane Kensington, Notorious Heiress, Caught in Hotel Raid? Police on Scene for Suspected Prostitution Ring.” A cold dread washed over me. I scrolled through the comments. They were a torrent of judgment and hate. “Guess we’ll never understand the rich. Didn’t she just marry the Rhodes heir? Their wedding was all over the news, and she’s already back to her old ways.” “A leopard can’t change its spots. Guess having a handsome husband at home isn’t enough when you can have a stranger in a hotel.” One username looked familiar. Someone with the screen name “Caro” had tagged me directly. “@EthanRhodes Take a good look at the woman you chose. Bet you don’t even have a shoulder to cry on now.” I didn’t hesitate. I threw on my clothes and called a car to the hotel address. Everyone was saying my wife was cheating. The hotel was surrounded by police cars, the flashing lights painting the scene in grim strokes of red and blue. I pushed my way through the gawking crowd and found her. Sloane was in the hotel room, dressed in a silk pajama set. And there was a man-shaped lump under the covers of the bed. Caroline was there, too. “What are you doing here?” I asked her. “Just passing by,” she said, crossing her arms, a smug look on her face. “Regretting your choice not to marry me now, Ethan?” “Your taste in women is truly awful.” “You’ve been married what, two weeks? And she’s already cheating on you. You’re going to be wearing those horns for the rest of your life.” “I’m actually dying to know,” she continued, her eyes glinting with malice as she stared at the lump in the bed, “what kind of man is worth Sloane Kensington risking it all for in the middle of the night?” A muffled groan came from under the blankets. It was definitely a man. My face went pale. I ignored Caroline and went straight to Sloane. “Tell me what’s going on,” I said, taking her hand. Sloane’s fingers laced with mine. “Ethan, do you trust me?” I nodded without a single flicker of doubt. A wave of relief washed over her face. Then, she pulled back the covers.

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I’m a massage therapist. And my only clients are young women. For every session, I wear compression leggings. The look on their faces when they see the outline of my body is always the same. A flicker of shock, a blush of shyness, and then… the unmistakable spark of desire. But the client today, her face was a mask of pure terror. And in that moment, a wave of relief so profound it almost buckled my knees washed over me. Because the one I’ve been waiting for, for three long years, had finally walked through my door. 1 My hands, slick with aromatic oil, moved with steady, powerful pressure across her pale, delicate skin. The woman on the massage table let out a series of low, suppressed moans that filled the quiet room, but my expression remained a perfect blank. When the session was over, I meticulously wiped the excess oil from her body. Her face was flushed, her eyes darting constantly toward my lower body. As she was leaving, she bit her lip and gave her phone a little shake in my direction. “Want to add me? We could grab a drink tonight?” I shook my head, declining. Her gaze fell one last time, disappointed, to the front of my leggings before she turned and left. I let out a long sigh and wrote a number in my notebook. 1000. Then I scratched it out with a single, heavy line. After carefully sanitizing the massage table, I dimmed the lights in the studio. I lit a stick of incense, the smoky scent of sandalwood curling into the air, and put on a playlist of melancholic classical music. Then, I pressed the buzzer on the wall. A soft chime echoed, and the door to the studio swung open. The woman who entered made me catch my breath. Long dark hair, a short skirt, exquisitely fine features, and skin so pale it seemed to glow in the dim light. I gestured toward the massage table, indicating she should lie down. But she didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on my lower body, a tremor running through her entire frame. Seeing that expression of raw terror on her face, I clenched my jaw, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it felt like it might stop. Three years. My one-thousand-and-first client. The one I was looking for was finally here. 2 My name is Noah, and I’m a massage therapist. If you want to book a session with me, you have to follow two rules. First, I only work on women under the age of twenty-three. Second, I must wear compression leggings during the massage. When I first opened my studio, people assumed the worst. That the rules were just a pretext, a way for me to take advantage of my clients. People gossiped, saying my business would fail within a month. But a month later, not only was my studio still open, business was booming. Clients had to book a month in advance to get an appointment with me. There were three reasons for this. One, I am exceptionally good at what I do. I studied under a master therapist, but I also taught myself holistic medicine, combining ancient acupressure techniques with modern massage. I create my own proprietary blends of herbal-infused oils and aromatherapy sachets that not only rejuvenate the skin but can also soothe the chronic pain of old injuries. Two, I am… gifted. The leggings leave little to the imagination, and my physique is an undeniable distraction. Once women look, they find it hard to look away. Some have even offered me obscene amounts of money to spend a night with them. I’ve refused every single one. Three, I have a face that people tend to trust. I was born with fine features and fair skin. On top of that, I understand women. I know what they want to hear, what makes them feel seen. Almost every client becomes a repeat customer. They recommend me to their friends, creating a steady stream of new business. When my story eventually made its way online, I became the object of envy for men everywhere. They were jealous that I could make good money while being in such intimate contact with beautiful young women. But they have no idea. I have no interest in any of them. I’m doing all of this to find one person. And today, I finally found her. 3 Looking at the woman trembling with fear before me, I took a deep breath and managed a gentle smile. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly. “Are you not feeling well?” She finally spoke, her voice shaking. “Could you… could you maybe change into some looser pants?” I shook my head. “That’s my rule. I can’t change it.” She hesitated for a long moment before finally, with a look of grim determination, she slowly closed the door behind her. “I heard your technique is incredible for old injuries,” she said. “I have a lot of them. I’m counting on you.” I nodded and directed her to the changing room to put on the shorts and tank top I provided. When she emerged, she followed my instructions and lay face down on the table. I brought over a basin of steaming water, a fragrant herbal bath. I wrung out a towel that had been soaking in it and draped it over her back. As I worked, I kept my voice calm and professional. “First, we use a gentle heat to open up the pores and promote circulation. It makes the skin more receptive,” I explained. “You have to prep the canvas before you can create the art. This will allow my work to be much more effective.” “I’ve also added some calming herbs to the water. You’ll likely drift off for a little while,” I continued. “When you wake up, your body will be in its most relaxed state. That’s when the real massage begins.” Once the warm towels covered all of her exposed skin, she gradually closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. I looked down at the beautiful, vulnerable form on my table, and the corner of my mouth twitched into a small, cold smile. 4 When the woman woke up, I placed my phone on a tripod and started a livestream. I’d built up a decent following by posting short videos explaining different massage techniques. As soon as the stream went live, over a thousand people flooded in. The chat immediately exploded. WTF, is he really going live with a client like this? Damn, that woman on the table is a work of art! That skin, those legs… I can’t look away! Bro, you call that a massage? Let a real man show you how it’s done! I smiled at the screen. “Hello, everyone, and welcome. The purpose of today’s stream is to demonstrate a few techniques for all of you at home.” “Let’s get right to it.” I placed my hands on her back and began to knead the muscles. As I worked, I kept an eye on the chat. God, I would kill to be that massage table right now. Wait a second, you guys… does that woman look familiar to you? OH MY GOD, THAT’S THE INFLUENCER ARIA! HOLY SHIT, IT IS! I’m so jealous of this dude right now! Even though I don’t follow influencers, I’d heard of Aria. She had tens of millions of followers, earning tens of thousands of dollars in donations every time she went live. I never imagined she would become a mega-influencer… I had to bite down hard on my jaw to suppress the bitter jealousy that rose in my throat. Aria’s body is insane. Better than most celebrities. Never seen her from this angle before. This is a blessing. Look closer, guys. Look at all those scars on her body. Whoa, what the hell happened to her? Faint, silvery scars crisscrossed Aria’s skin, a dense network that looked almost like a monstrous tattoo. Looking at them, memories I had locked away deep in my mind began to stir, to rise, to surface. I froze for a moment, biting my lip until I tasted blood to bring myself back to the present. I shook my head, trying to force the memories back down. Pouring more oil onto my hands, I let my palms glide over her skin, which was now flushed pink from the heat. From her shoulders down to her ankles, until every inch of her was slick and gleaming. I began to apply gentle pressure to her lower back and both of her knees. With each press, she let out a sharp, stifled cry of pain. I spoke, my tone casual. “You have significant chronic injuries in these three areas.” “Looks like they were caused by some kind of severe impact, right?” When Aria nodded silently, I increased the pressure. “For years, these injuries must have caused you unbearable pain every so often,” I said. “I understand that kind of pain, because I have old injuries of my own.” “And when the pain comes, the memory of how you got the injury comes flooding back, doesn’t it? Which only makes the suffering worse.” Aria’s body went rigid. She said nothing. I gave a faint smile. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take very good care of you.” 5 My touch became gentler, and Aria’s body slowly began to relax completely under my hands. Feeling the give and take of muscle and skin beneath my fingertips, I glanced back at the screen. “I imagine this is getting a little boring for some of you,” I said to the camera. “So, why don’t I tell you all a story? Something I did a long time ago that I regret to this very day.” “Even though it’s been years, every time I think about it, I’m filled with remorse.” My fingers continued their dance across Aria’s back as I began to speak. “A lot of you probably envy my job. You think I get to look and touch beautiful women all day.” “But it’s not like that at all.” “You see, I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria when I was young. My body is male, but my mind, my identity, has always been female.” “To put it simply, for those of you in the chat, I’m gay.” “So, no matter how beautiful a woman is, my body doesn’t react. At all.” As I said this, I felt Aria’s body give a distinct, sharp shudder. In the chat, some people offered support, while others spammed homophobic slurs. I smiled faintly, ignoring them. “Growing up, I always got along better with girls,” I continued. “I was part of their circle, we were incredibly close. Several of them became my best friends.” “The guys were all jealous. They’d mock me and call me names behind my back.” “I pretended it didn’t bother me, but inside, it hurt. A lot.” “Because there were a few guys I had crushes on, but I had to bury those feelings deep down. I knew that if I ever let it show, I’d be treated like a freak, an outcast.” The chat went quiet. It seemed everyone was listening intently. Thanks to Aria’s fame, people were sharing the stream. The viewer count was climbing steadily. I went on. “My senior year of high school, I turned eighteen.” “The hormones of adolescence were like a volcano erupting inside me, melting away all my reason. I wanted to be in love like a normal person. I wanted someone I could confide in, someone whose arms I could fall into.” “And so… I made a decision that I will regret for the rest of my life.” 6 As I spoke, Aria’s body began to tremble more violently. At the same time, I slowly increased the pressure of my hands. “I downloaded a dating app and started pretending to be a woman online.” “I never played sports and didn’t spend much time in the sun, so my skin was already fairer than most girls’. My bone structure is small, too. If you only saw my hands or my legs, you wouldn’t guess I was a boy.” “So, I learned how to do my makeup. I bought a wig and a set of prosthetic breasts and put on a dress.” “With the help of some beauty filters, the person in the photos and videos I took was, for all intents and purposes, a beautiful woman.” “I posted them on my profile, and guys started messaging me immediately. I scrolled and scrolled, filtering through them, looking for my type.” The chat, which had been silent, came alive again. What a fucking creep. This is wild. First time I’ve ever heard a gay guy’s confession live. Keep talking! What happened next? The number of viewers kept rising, the stream’s popularity soaring. I moved to a new position and began working on Aria’s calves. Just as I was about to continue, a faint noise came from the storage cabinet in the corner of the room. Aria lifted her head, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the cabinet. I offered her a reassuring smile. “It’s an old building, we have a bit of a mouse problem. I had an exterminator in, but it looks like one of them got away.” I stomped my foot hard on the floor, and the noise from the cabinet stopped. I nodded, satisfied, and continued my story. “Soon, I was talking constantly with one guy. He was exactly my type. We had the same taste in movies, music, books… we just clicked.” “He was seventeen years older than me, but I didn’t care about the age gap. In fact, I was drawn to the mature, stable presence he had, so different from the awkward boys at my school.” “But as we got closer, a sense of dread started to build inside me. I knew my entire identity was a lie. No matter how beautiful I looked in my pictures, it didn’t change the fact that I was a boy.” “And just as my anxiety reached its peak, the thing I feared most finally happened.” “He asked if we could meet in person.” 7 I could feel the muscles in Aria’s body tightening, all the previous relaxation gone. The chat was in a heated debate. LMAO, I can’t even imagine that guy’s reaction. Guarantee you the storyteller got his ass kicked. So disgusting. Deceitful gay men are the worst. I wiped the oil from my hands, picked up a small massage roller, and began to slowly work it over the areas of Aria’s old injuries. “Heh, anyone who’s ever dated online knows that when you want to meet someone, the urge is impossible to resist,” I said. “I imagined the meeting a thousand times. He would be disappointed, angry, furious at my deception…” “He might even scream at me, or hit me.” “But in the end, I decided to go.” “I was tired of hiding behind a screen. I wanted to see him in real life.” “I prepared for that meeting for weeks. I practiced my voice and the way I walked, trying to seem more feminine. I got a full-body wax, bought the highest quality wig and prosthetics I could find. I would get fully dressed and made up and walk around outside for hours, until I was certain that no one could tell I was a boy.” “Finally, the day we had agreed to meet arrived.” “It was May twenty-fourth. A Sunday.” “There were fourteen days left until my final exams.” “That date… I don’t think I will ever forget it for as long as I live.” As I said the date, fragmented memories flashed through my mind. My heart seized in my chest, and the roller almost slipped from my grasp. Seeing me fall silent, the chat went wild. ???? What happened?? Tell us! This dude isn’t a masseuse, he’s a storyteller. He knows how to leave a cliffhanger, damn. Can you focus on the massage? Our Aria is in so much pain she’s gripping the sheets! I glanced at Aria. The veins on the back of her hands were bulging as she gripped the white sheet. But I knew the truth. I was barely applying any pressure at all. 8 “That day, I met the man I’d been dreaming of in a park.” “He was tall, and even more handsome than in his photos. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he hadn’t seen through my disguise. In fact, he seemed very pleased.” “For the first time in my life, a man held my hand.” “My heart was pounding so fast I could barely speak…” At this point, the chat was in an uproar. Ugh, that’s just sick. Is it sick? I dunno, I’m kinda shipping this. So what happened between you two?? I continued. “The man’s voice was gentle, he was well-spoken, and his clothes and cologne were expensive and refined. We sat on a bench in a quiet corner of the park, his arm around me, as he whispered sweet things in my ear.” “In that moment, I wished time would stand still.” “Eventually, he suggested we go back to his place. I wanted to spend more time with him, so I agreed. I got into his luxury car, and we drove to his villa in the suburbs.” “My family was working-class. Seeing his wealth only made me fall for him harder. Once we were inside the villa, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and started kissing me.” “It was my first kiss. The strange, new feeling was intoxicating.” “The next thing I knew, we were in his bedroom. And he had taken off all my clothes.” “He stared at my male anatomy and the prosthetic breasts. His expression turned terrifyingly dark.” “In that instant, it felt like I’d been plunged into ice water.” 9 I cleared my throat. The chat was now mostly filled with mockery. Hahaha, if that was me, I would’ve beaten him half to death. For real! So gross, anyone would lose their mind. You play with people’s feelings, you deserve to get beat. Wait, is it just me, or does the guy sound like the real problem here? Yeah, a man in his thirties online dating an 18-year-old? That’s predatory. Just as I was about to continue, Aria spoke. Her voice was a thin, trembling whisper. “Can you… please stop talking…?” I ignored her and kept going. “In that moment, my mind went completely blank. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. Looking at the expression in his eyes, I knew it was over between us.” “Just as I was about to offer a sincere apology, he walked toward me.” “His face had changed. It was sinister, twisted, horrifying…” “I was terrified. It hit me all at once that I was in a strange, isolated room with a powerful, unfamiliar man. Before I could even think about what to do, his hand flew out and he slapped me across the face.” “He used all his strength. I slammed against a wardrobe and crumpled to the floor. My face burned, and my head was ringing. Before I could even get the words ‘I’m sorry’ out, he kicked me hard in the stomach.” “The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. It felt like my insides were tearing apart. As I lay on the floor, gasping in agony, I saw that the wardrobe door had been knocked open when I hit it.” “And in that instant, all the physical pain seemed to vanish, replaced by a bottomless, soul-crushing terror.” “Do you want to guess what I saw inside that closet?” 10 Bang. The cabinet in my studio rattled again, much louder this time. I stood up and started walking toward it. Halfway there, the sound stopped. The chat, meanwhile, was buzzing. Okay, now things are getting interesting. HOLY SHIT! He was just talking about a closet, and the one in his room made a noise? I’m getting scared… I thought this was just a boring catfish story. It’s turning into a thriller. Stop dragging it out, just tell us! I took a deep breath, fighting to control the emotions churning inside me. “The wardrobe had two levels, separated by a wooden shelf. From where I was on the floor, my line of sight was level with the bottom shelf.” “There were three enormous glass jars.” “And floating in a clear, colorless liquid were the severed heads of three young women.” “Three pairs of wide-open eyes were staring right at me.” “My heart stopped.” By now, a tidal wave of comments had completely flooded the screen. WTF, is this story even real? Obviously fake. He’s making it up for clicks. Everyone report this loser, let’s get him banned. Feeling Aria’s body grow even more rigid, I didn’t bother explaining myself to the viewers. I just continued the story. “The intense fear jolted my memory. I remembered a news report from a few weeks earlier. Three high school girls had gone missing, one after another. They were still gone…” “The man in front of me… he was their killer.” “Chatting with me online to lower my guard, meeting me in a secluded park, bringing me to his isolated villa… he had used the same tactics on the other three girls.” “Looking at the torture instruments gleaming on the top shelf of the closet, at the marks on the girls’ heads, it wasn’t hard to imagine the horrors they had endured. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what this man, feeling deceived and enraged that I was a boy, would do to me.” “I struggled to sit up. I saw the man was now holding an axe, and he was walking slowly toward me.” Just then, one comment made me pause. I remember this. Three years ago, in that ritzy suburban area between my city and the next one, something big happened. There were cops everywhere, but you can’t find anything about it online now. The story was suppressed. What this streamer is saying… could it be real? A wave of “Holy shit” and “WTF” comments scrolled by. I continued. “In that moment, I couldn’t see any way out. No way to survive. No matter how I fought, I was no match for a large man with a weapon. But the will to live, it’s a powerful thing. Staring into the abyss, I managed to claw out a path.” “And that path was…” Before I could finish, Aria shot up from the massage table. She scrambled to the floor and fell to her knees in front of me, slamming her forehead against the hardwood with a sickening thud. Again and again. The skin on her forehead split open, and blood began to stain the floor. She looked up, her face a twisted mask of blood and tears, her voice sharp and trembling. “I’m begging you, please, don’t say any more!” 11 In less than a minute, the pristine influencer had been reduced to this pathetic, broken state. The livestream chat detonated. “?????????” “What the hell just happened to Aria?” “This has to be staged, right? It’s a script.” “I don’t think so, that wound and the blood are real!” “Aria definitely has some connection to this guy. Maybe she’s a character in his story.” I crouched down, looking directly into Aria’s eyes, and gently helped her to her feet. “You know that once a story has begun, it can’t be stopped.” “Let’s remember what happened that day, together.” Aria wrenched her hand from my grasp and scrambled for the door. She twisted the handle frantically, but the door wouldn’t budge. What is this guy trying to do? From Aria’s reaction, it seems like she doesn’t want him to finish the story. Should we call the cops…? I turned to the camera and held up my hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt her. If you want to call the police, you might as well hear the end of the story first.” The chat urged me to go on. I smiled. “The only way I could think of to survive was to offer the man a new target.” “As I said before, I had a lot of female friends. One of them, a girl named… let’s call her ‘Sarah.’ She and I were especially close. We told each other everything. We were like sisters.” “She was the only person I had ever told that I was gay.” “She was the only one who trusted me completely, without reservation.” “And she was the only one who would come to this secluded villa with just one phone call from me.” “So, as the man stood over me with the axe raised high, I played my only card.” “I said: ‘Don’t kill me. I can be your slave. I can find new prey for you. I can call a girl right now. She’s beautiful, tall… exactly your type.’”

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Ryan broke up with me again. This time, I thought about going to the river to clear my head, just like I did when he first dumped me at eighteen. But the wind off the water was freezing. Screw it, I’m going home. On the way back, I passed a BBQ joint. I figured I’d be too heartbroken to eat, just like when I was twenty. Turns out the guy makes a mean brisket. Finally got home and thought about doing what I’d done at twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four—sending Ryan one of those pathetic “please take me back” essays. But then my boss texted. Business trip. I spent nearly a month in the next city over, practically launching a whole second career. Ryan finally cracked and called me. “Why haven’t you apologized yet?” That’s when I realized I’d forgotten something. Getting older makes heartbreak complicated in weird ways. I tested the waters: “Sorry, sorry—been swamped. Forgot to write the essay.” “So… should we just call it quits?” 1 My friends were talking about how Ryan was planning to propose. Ryan just smiled, all casual about it. “Why would I need to propose? Zoe’s obviously going to marry me.” “When it happens, Maya’s going to be my bridesmaid. She’s been asking me about it forever.” I couldn’t even tell what mattered more to him—marrying me or having his childhood friend Maya as a bridesmaid. I took a sip of water. “I’ve already got bridesmaids lined up. My college roommates. We made a pact—whoever gets married, the rest of us stand up there together.” Ryan didn’t even look at me. “So add another bridesmaid.” “Can’t. There’s four of them. You can’t have an odd number of bridesmaids. It’s bad luck.” He sounded irritated. “Then find someone random. Maya’s never been a bridesmaid. Can’t you just do this one thing for her?” Everyone else had gone quiet. They’d seen us fight like this before. They never got involved because I always ended up apologizing, and Ryan would give me the cold shoulder for a couple days before we made up. Nobody wants to be the clown in someone else’s relationship drama. This time I stood my ground. “No thanks. I want to make my own decisions about my wedding.” Ryan got in my face. “What if I insist?” I didn’t answer, but Ryan got the message. He lost it. “Fine! We’re done, Zoe. Don’t contact me again.” He stormed out, leaving everyone else awkwardly frozen. After I said my goodbyes, people tried to lighten the mood. “Zoe’s got this under control. She’ll get Ryan back. That’s just how guys are—go sweet-talk him and it’ll blow over.” “Zoe, you can’t spoil men like that. The more you baby them, the worse they get. You’ve been way too good to him!” “That wedding date you guys picked was mediocre anyway. Let me have my uncle check his calendar—he’s got a gift. None of the couples whose dates he’s picked have gotten divorced.” I smiled but didn’t say anything. 2 I wandered around alone, trying to clear my head. My mind kept replaying everything between Ryan and me over the years. We’d had crushes on each other in high school, made it official in college. Survived the brutal long-distance phase, made it through the endless adjustments of living together. Every stage had its failures. Every time, I’d fought like hell to fix things. I kept asking myself: why? Is this what love is supposed to be—this humiliating? Shouldn’t love be about compromise? About supporting each other? But every time I decided to leave, another voice would pipe up: “If you quit now, doesn’t that make all those years of effort a complete joke?” So I’d grit my teeth and keep going, hoping I could make him see, hoping we’d actually make it. Lost in thought, I ended up at the river. I used to call it “Tear River” as a joke—it was close to campus, and starting with that first breakup, it had witnessed countless crying sessions over this relationship. But tonight it was freezing. Before I could even get properly melancholy, I had goosebumps. I pulled my jacket tighter. Forget it. I’ll be sad at home. I turned around and spotted the BBQ place. Funny thing—I’d been here plenty of times. Once, after a fight with Ryan, I rage-ordered fifty skewers and couldn’t choke down a single bite. The owner’s skills had seriously improved. I’d just come from dinner but got sucked in by the smell of grilled meat. Didn’t want to repeat history, so I only ordered twenty skewers. Polished them off and realized I could’ve ordered more. When your mouth’s busy and your stomach’s full, your heart doesn’t feel quite so empty. Standing at my front door, I hesitated. We’d lived together so long—every corner of this little place held memories of our life together. But when I opened the door and saw the overflowing trash that nobody had taken out, the empty drink bottles lying around, the shoes scattered everywhere—I felt more angry than sad. The anger seemed to burn up all my tears. After I cleaned everything up, I opened my phone to hide some posts so I wouldn’t torture myself later, and saw my boss had tagged me in the group chat with feedback on my proposal. By the time I closed the document, dawn was breaking. I was shocked to realize the first day after the breakup had just… passed. So in that fresh morning light, I blocked Ryan on everything. 3 Ryan never came back. I knew he was waiting for me to cave. I figured I would too—I’d done it so many times before. Humbling yourself for love stops feeling humiliating after a while. But every time I picked up my phone, something more urgent came up. Either I had to submit a proposal or a client needed something. Before I knew it, eight or nine days had passed without any contact. I’d somehow accomplished something I thought was impossible, and it wasn’t nearly as torturous as I’d imagined. At the morning meeting, my supervisor said we had an important client and needed to send someone to be on-site until the project wrapped—at least a year and a half. I raised my hand without thinking. He looked at me. “Single people get priority.” “I’m single,” I shot back. The whole conference room laughed. Everyone knew about my legendary relationship with Ryan. But when the supervisor asked around, nobody else volunteered. Makes sense—leaving headquarters for that long could make your position awkward when you got back. Career-wise, it wasn’t the smart move. But for me, besides getting some distance from Ryan so I could think clearly about the relationship, the client was in Harbor City—a place I’d always wanted to go. Ryan had never been willing to leave. For him, nowhere was more comfortable than here, so he refused to go anywhere else. He wouldn’t even let me visit Harbor City for vacation. Friends joked that he was afraid I’d go and never come back. I could only smile. In the end, the supervisor picked me—you can’t force someone who doesn’t want to go. Before I left, he warned me repeatedly: “You can’t bail on this, okay? Whatever happens with your boyfriend, you’ve got to see this year and a half through.” I smiled. “Mission accepted.” 4 My first days in Harbor City were genuinely hectic. I worked overtime for two straight weeks, didn’t even have time to find my own place. Just stayed in the hotel the client arranged. It wasn’t until the third weekend that I finally had time to explore. The city looked pretty much like it did in all the blogs and magazines I’d read, but being there in person revealed all these different kinds of beauty. I thought: I made the right call coming here. When my mom called, I was actually surprised. It had been over a year since our last conversation ended badly. They’d started pressuring me to get married at twenty-five and kept at it until I was twenty-eight with no results. Then they actually found Ryan’s contact info on my phone and reached out to him directly. I could imagine how nasty they’d been—Ryan didn’t speak to me for a whole month after that call. My mom has a nice voice, actually. I just don’t know how she manages to say such awful, soul-crushing things with it. “You’re not seriously planning to wait until you’re thirty to get married, are you? We could dig eight generations back in the family tree and not find anyone like you.” “Well, I’m expanding your horizons then.” “I don’t have time for your nonsense. Your sister saw on your social media that you broke up with that Ryan guy. Is it true? You used to make up after a few days, but I’ve been watching—it’s been a while this time. Is it really over?” I said impatiently, “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Don’t beat around the bush. I’ve got work.” “That temper of yours—just like your father. No wonder you two can’t be in the same room.” “If you don’t get to the point, I’m hanging up.” I heard my mom’s voice rush out: “Don’t hang up! I just wanted to ask—if you’re free this weekend, your aunt set you up with someone. Want to meet him? He works in your city.” “Oh, well, probably not the same city anymore. I forgot to tell you guys—I moved.” 5 My mom’s voice suddenly got louder. “Why are you changing jobs again for no reason? You’ve always been like this since you were little—way too headstrong.” Too tired to argue, I cut to the chase. “Is this guy one of Aunt’s clients or her boss? Or does she have some connection to him? Otherwise she wouldn’t be pushing so hard.” My mom, who’d been so loud a second ago, started hemming and hawing. “Well, he’s the son of your cousin’s boss, but his credentials are really good! Your aunt wouldn’t set you up with someone bad, would she?” I have no idea how she could say that without a shred of shame. If she were standing in front of me, I’d definitely check to see if she was even blushing. “Are you sure about that?” “Do you have to be so sarcastic? So last year your aunt introduced you to someone who was a little inappropriate—she cried and apologized! She really didn’t know about his situation, or why would she have introduced you?” I was too tired to argue. If she didn’t know anything about him, why did she insist on setting us up in the first place? My dear aunt had introduced me to an armed robber. After I refused multiple times, she gave him my address. If Ryan hadn’t come home when he did that night, I don’t know what would’ve happened in that dark stairwell. I only found out later that the guy was the nephew of one of my aunt’s big clients. She’d asked my mom for a photo and sent it without doing any research. When he expressed interest, she immediately handed over my address. The whole thing happened without my involvement. When I wanted to go to the police, my aunt made it clear she wouldn’t testify—she couldn’t afford to offend that big client. So the whole thing just got swept under the rug. And now she’s back at it. “Tell Aunt to stop using me as a bargaining chip. Otherwise when I come home for the holidays and lose my mind, don’t say I’m mentally ill.” “You ungrateful child!” 6 The moment I hung up, everything felt peaceful. I’d never realized how wonderful a quiet environment could be. I efficiently finished revising a proposal and dropped it in the work chat. The client team responded with a stream of praise emojis that made me feel pretty good about myself. I posted on social media: Another day of crushing it. I’d always had decent social connections, but I was surprised by how much engagement this post got. Lots of friends left comments. Zoe’s all about her career now! I tried to meet up with you all week and you were too busy. Turns out you were home working? Still working? Your castle walls are about to fall, you know that? Why haven’t you deleted that breakup post yet? Haven’t you guys made up? Did you not put enough effort into the surprise this time? You’re totally ignoring us strategic advisors. I replied to each one: Been on a business trip. Let’s hang when I’m back. My heart is the castle, and it’s empty. We didn’t make up. Right after I replied, my phone rang. It was the girlfriend of one of Ryan’s buddies—we used to have dinner together a lot. “Where have you been living it up, Zoe?” “Just working. Pretty busy lately.” She paused, then said quietly, “Are you on a business trip? I stopped by your place the other day and knocked, but you weren’t home.” “Yeah, I’m out of town. Did you need something?” She quickly said, “No, no, just haven’t seen you in a while. Wanted to grab dinner.” “Sure, I’ll call you when I’m back from this trip.” “Sounds good!” I was about to hang up when I heard her say, “Have you heard about Ryan and Maya lately?” I told the truth. “Not really. Been really busy.” I didn’t want to engage, but she kept going anyway. “Ryan and Maya have been super public lately. They’re showing up together at all these parties. I heard Ryan gave her a huge diamond ring for her birthday!” “Everyone’s speculating about whether they’re getting together. Ryan hasn’t confirmed anything. We all figured he’s still waiting for you to apologize!” I found myself laughing. Before she could continue, I asked, “What exactly did I do wrong?” She hesitated. “Huh? But you’ve always been the one to apologize before. I thought this time you’d also—” “I apologized because I still cared. But what if I don’t care anymore?” I heard a loud door slam on her end. And Ryan’s friend yelling, “Ryan!”

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My wife’s colleague, Toby, called again in the middle of the night. An urgent case, he said. A body that needed to be handled immediately. Clara, already exhausted from a long week, got dressed and left without a word. She didn’t return until the sky was beginning to pale with dawn. “Toby couldn’t handle it alone,” she murmured, slipping into bed behind me. “Good thing I was still awake.” I didn’t respond. I just stared at the ceiling. She wrapped her arms around my waist, her voice a soft whisper against my back. “I know I’ve been neglecting you lately, David, but it’s my job. I had to go.” She nuzzled my shoulder. “Once this busy period is over, I’ll take you on that trip we talked about. How does that sound?” I remained silent, pulling away from her touch. Then I spoke, my voice cold and flat in the quiet room. “Let’s get a divorce.” 1 Clara froze. She forcefully turned me over to face her, her hands gripping mine. The skin under her eyes was bruised with the tell-tale blue-black of chronic sleep deprivation. “David, don’t be like this… I know you’re tired. I’m tired, too.” Her voice was pleading. “But this is what I do. It’s my duty. You understand that, don’t you?” I avoided her gaze, pulling my hands free. Her voice trembled, but she fought to keep it gentle. “Is this because I haven’t been home for dinner? Or… or because I forgot your birthday last month? I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. When this rush is over, we’ll take a long vacation, just the two of us. Okay?” She stroked the back of my hand, the same soothing gesture she used after every argument we’d ever had. I remembered back when we were first married, when my career was stalling and I was riddled with insomnia. She would sit with me just like this, never a word of complaint, just a simple, grounding promise: “David, I’m here.” Thinking of it now felt like a sick joke. “Don’t touch me,” I said. Her hand stopped mid-air. The exhaustion on her face melted away, replaced by a raw, naked confusion. “What is wrong with you? Is it really just because I had to go to work again?” Her voice rose. “David, life and death are serious matters. If I don’t go, do you expect them to just leave the body lying there?” “Whatever you say. We’re getting a divorce.” I repeated the words, my voice low but unwavering. Her eyes instantly reddened, as if she were seeing me for the first time. “You’re serious?” I turned my back to her again. “City Hall. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Be there.” Clara let out a laugh that was half a sob. “David, you have to give me a reason. Is it the overtime? Or do you think Toby and I are…?” “Leave him out of this,” I cut in. “It’s you. You make me sick.” The color drained from her face. Her lips parted, trembled, but no sound came out. “Is that really what you think of me?” she finally choked out, her voice raspy. “Toby and I are just colleagues. That’s all.” I couldn’t stand to listen anymore. I got up, walked out of the bedroom, and closed the door behind me. She didn’t follow. She didn’t try to explain further. I heard the sound of a glass shattering against the floor, followed by a muffled curse. A few moments later, my phone buzzed. It was Toby. He had been Clara’s senior in college. And her first love. The phone rang for a long time before I finally answered. His voice was laced with weariness. “David? Clara just called me. I… I wanted to clear things up for her.” “We’ve been getting a lot of cases from the West Side precinct lately…” I didn’t let him finish. I hung up. I sat on the couch in the dark, remembering a night six months ago. She had come home late, just like tonight, so exhausted she’d collapsed onto the bed next to me, still in her work clothes. Her eyes were closed, but her hand had found my face in the dark. “David,” she’d whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here.” Back then, I really believed we would last forever. The sun was fully up. When I woke on the couch, Clara was gone. The living room was spotless, her coat from last night hung neatly on the rack by the door. On the coffee table sat a glass of honey water, still warm. Next to it, a sticky note. Wait for me to get home. I’ll make your favorite braised short ribs. I picked up the glass, walked to the kitchen, and poured the contents down the drain. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from her. David, I’m at work. Did you drink the honey water? I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, another one came through. I’ll spend more time with you once this project is over. I promise, there’s nothing going on between me and Toby. I stared at the screen for a long time before typing a single line. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late. Then I blocked her number. At 8:30 AM, I was standing outside City Hall. People milled about, mostly in pairs. Some were wrapped in sweet embraces, others stood apart, their faces grim. I leaned against a pillar, my eyes fixed on the street. 9:30 AM. She hadn’t shown up. I took out my phone, unblocked her number, and dialed. It rang three times before the call was abruptly ended. A hot surge of anger flared in my chest. I hit redial. This time, it went straight to a message saying the number was unavailable. I waited another half hour. Just as I was about to try again, a call came in from an unknown number. I answered. A young woman’s voice spoke rapidly. “Mr. David Thorne? This is City Central Hospital. Your wife, Clara Thorne, was in a car accident. She’s in emergency surgery right now. We need you to come down immediately to handle the payment.” I froze, the words not quite registering. The voice on the other end grew more urgent. “Mr. Thorne? Can you hear me? Mr. Thorne!” I hung up before she could finish and flagged down a cab. By the time I arrived, Clara was out of surgery. A crowd was gathered outside her room. Several people in dark blue uniforms—her colleagues—were huddled together, talking in low voices. One of them, a young woman, looked up, saw me, and immediately rushed over, her eyes red-rimmed. “Where have you been? Do you have any idea that your name was the only thing Clara was saying before they took her into the OR?” “How is she?” I asked, my gaze fixed on the hospital room door. The woman’s eyes widened in disbelief, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What are you going to do!?” I ignored her and walked toward Clara’s bed. She didn’t look as bad as I’d expected. One eye was swollen shut, but the other was fixed on me. “You’re here…” she rasped. “Don’t worry. I’m okay.” I clenched my fists, then pulled the divorce agreement and a pen from my briefcase. “Sign this. Otherwise, I’m not paying your medical bills.” My voice was so cold it seemed to suck the warmth from the room. Everyone stared at me, aghast. The young woman who had confronted me earlier lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Clara got into this accident because she was distracted by your call while she was on the job!” she screamed. “And you’re using this to threaten her? Are you even human?!” Toby stepped forward, his expression grave. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “David, man… Clara and I are just colleagues. I swear. If you really don’t believe me, I’ll resign. But you can’t do this to her. She only has eyes for you.” The stinging pain on my cheek ignited my rage. I violently shoved his hand away. “Did anyone ask you to speak?” I walked back to Clara’s bedside. “If you don’t sign, you can wait for the hospital to kick you out.” Tears streamed from Clara’s open eye. “Why?” she whispered. I looked down at her, my voice low and heavy. “Because I find you filthy.” Clara’s sobs grew more violent, her chest heaving. “I won’t sign. I’d rather die than sign. I love you, David. I haven’t done anything to betray you. I already bought the tickets to Aspen… you said you wanted to go skiing…” A few of the other women in the room began to cry softly. A pang of pain shot through my own heart, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Gritting my teeth, I held the papers out again. “Sign it.” Toby snatched the agreement from my hand and ripped it to shreds. “David! How could you? Clara just got out of surgery, she’s still weak! Even if you’re dead set on a divorce, you can’t do it like this!” I shot him a venomous glare, but before I could speak, Clara intervened. “Toby, don’t… Don’t treat him like that. It’s my fault. I failed as a wife.” She weakly reached out, her fingers catching the hem of my shirt. I flinched back instinctively. “Don’t touch me.” Clara’s face, already pale, turned ashen. “I will not divorce you over something so small. I’ve already put in for my annual leave to spend time with you…” Toby stepped forward again, a bastion of righteousness. “Fine. I’ll go back and quit my job right now. The truth will speak for itself. There is absolutely nothing between us.” His declaration cast me as the villain, the unreasonable, jealous madman. The others glared at me with righteous indignation. The absurdity of the scene was almost laughable, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “You’re right. There’s nothing between you. I just don’t want to be married anymore. Is that so hard to understand?” Clara just looked at me, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “David, whatever it is, can we please talk about it after she’s recovered? I’m begging you,” Toby pleaded, his voice low and earnest. I ignored him, my eyes locked on Clara. “Sign the papers, or I walk out that door right now. Your choice.” The female colleague who’d slapped me started forward again, but someone held her back. “Are you a monster?! She just cheated death!” “Her life is her own,” I said, my voice flat, tired. “It has nothing to do with me.” Clara suddenly began to cough violently, her whole body shaking. Toby frantically pressed the call button. A nurse hurried in, her brow furrowing as she took in the scene. “The patient needs rest. Family members, please control your emotions.” The room fell silent again. Clara stared at me, biting her lip, but still she refused to yield. “I’m calling our parents,” I said. “Do whatever you want.” With that, I turned and walked out. I walked aimlessly, my mind in a fog, and found myself outside the funeral home where Clara worked. “Mr. Thorne?” An older man I didn’t recognize approached me. “You know me?” I asked. He scratched his head, looking hesitant. “Clara’s phone wallpaper is a picture of you. I’ve seen it.” I pulled out a cigarette, offered him one, and forced a smile. “Could you show me where she usually works?” He took the cigarette and sighed. “Sure. Follow me.” The room was cold. I looked around, tapping on surfaces, and my foot kicked something on the floor. A lighter. It was a specific brand I’d once mentioned to Clara. I remembered Toby having one just like it. Just then, the older man spoke. “Last night, Clara really was handling an emergency. I don’t normally stick my nose in, but she’s a good woman.” I said nothing. My phone rang. It was Clara’s colleague. “David! Where the hell are you? Both our parents are here! Get your ass back to the hospital, now!” she shrieked. “Did you hear me?!” I clutched the lighter in my hand, my heart a dead, silent void. When I got back to the hospital, the atmosphere was thick with tension. My parents and Clara’s were all there, their faces grim. The moment I walked in, my father slapped me. “You disgraceful son! If Clara’s colleagues hadn’t called me, I would have never known you were here acting like such a monster!” he roared. “Go and apologize to your wife this instant!” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and said nothing. My mother and mother-in-law rushed to intervene, one holding my father back, the other trying to soothe me. “David, dear, couples need to be understanding with each other. Why must you insist on a divorce?” “She’s right, son. A wife as good as Clara… you’ll never find another one like her if you let her go.” No, I thought. I certainly won’t. Clara’s eyes were red, as if she’d been crying again. She looked at me with a mixture of pain and worry. “Why did you just leave? I was so worried about you.” I turned my head, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I couldn’t stand the sight of you. It makes me sick.” My father lunged at me again, but was held back. Clara, however, finally snapped. “David, can you stop being so unreasonable?!” she screamed, her voice raw. “What more do you want from me?!” “A divorce.” Seeing the situation about to explode, Clara reached for me. “David,” she pleaded, her voice cracking, “let’s just talk, please? For our parents’ sake…” I pulled the lighter from my pocket and placed it gently on the bedside table. “Is this yours?” I asked. Clara’s pupils contracted for a fraction of a second. Toby immediately stepped forward. “It’s mine,” he said quickly. “I must have dropped it yesterday when I was helping clean up.” Clara latched onto his words. “Yes, it’s Toby’s. You know he always uses that brand.” I stared into her eyes. I used to love her eyes; they were so clear, so honest. Now, I couldn’t see anything in them at all. I bent down and pulled a newly printed divorce agreement from my briefcase. “Sign it.” My father-in-law slammed his hand on the table. “David! Are you determined to burn everything to the ground?!” “Dad!” Clara cried out, silencing him. Then, her voice softened as she looked at me. “Is it because I work too much? Or because of Toby? I’ve told you a hundred times, we’re just colleagues…” Toby jumped in, holding out his phone. “If you still don’t believe us, I’ve just requested the security footage from last night. Watch it. Then you can stop accusing Clara.” I glanced at the faces around me, then took the phone with a cold smirk. I turned to Clara. “Do you want to watch it together?” She hesitated for a moment, then gave a slight nod. I walked over and held the phone in front of her. The footage was perfectly normal. It showed her meticulously suturing and preparing a body, with Toby assisting nearby. There was no physical contact, nothing inappropriate at all. Her female colleague couldn’t contain herself. “See? Now you know you were wrong! Apologize to Clara, right now!” My father punched the wall in frustration. My mother frowned. “David, you’re embarrassing me!” my father hissed. “Now that you’ve seen the proof, stop fighting,” my mother added. “Take care of your wife and say you’re sorry.” But before they could finish, Clara’s hand trembled, and she knocked the phone from my grasp. It clattered to the floor. “Stop fighting,” she said, her voice hollow. “I’ll agree to the divorce.” She wouldn’t look at anyone. She just held out her hand. Toby tried to stop her, but she gently pushed him away. “A pen,” she said. No one moved. Finally, I took the pen from my own pocket and handed it to her. Clara stared intently at the divorce agreement, her hand raised, ready to sign. Toby lunged, snatching the pen away, his voice cracking. “You can’t sign this! We can talk about this when you’re better! He’s lost his mind, Clara, you can’t go along with it!” The colleague who’d hit me rushed forward, screaming. “Clara, don’t! If you sign this, it’s like admitting there was something going on with Toby! We all know you’re innocent! Don’t be afraid!” My mother-in-law clutched her chest, swaying on her feet. My father-in-law caught her, his face livid as he pointed at me. “David, if you dare force her to sign that paper today, I swear, this isn’t over between us!” My own father stared at me, his eyes filled with disbelief. “You bastard! What are you trying to do? Are you trying to destroy this family completely?!” Clara took a shaky breath and spoke to Toby. “Give me the pen.” He didn’t move. He took a step back. “No! Clara, if you sign this today, it’s not just about the divorce! Your reputation will be ruined!” Clara turned to look at me one last time. Seeing the unyielding resolve in my expression, she gritted her teeth. “Give it to me!” Her mother, knowing her daughter, knew something was deeply wrong. “Clara, what is going on? First David acts out, and now you. Marriage is not a game! If you’re getting divorced, you at least owe us a reason!” Clara closed her eyes, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “Mom, please, don’t push me.” A tense silence filled the room. Finally, my father grabbed me, forcing me to bend over. “Apologize to Clara! Or I’ll disown you!” Even pinned, I didn’t back down. “Dad, if you keep pushing, I’m going to have to tell them the truth.” Clara’s hand froze. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes darting nervously. But with so many people watching, she had to deny it. “What truth? I’m just… I’m tired of fighting with you. I’m just tired.” Her voice was so broken. Her words instantly made me the villain in everyone’s eyes. The last shred of affection I had for her evaporated. I took a step forward, ignoring the furious glares. “Aren’t any of you curious?” I asked the room. “Why would Clara endure being called filthy, being forced into a divorce, even getting into a near-fatal car accident, and still refuse to sign? And then, the moment she sees that perfectly innocent security footage, she suddenly agrees?” Toby immediately blocked my path to her. “David, have you had enough?! You’ve broken her heart! She doesn’t want to deal with a madman like you anymore! What’s so hard to understand about that?” “Is that it?” I looked past him, my gaze fixed on Clara. “Is it a broken heart? Or is it fear? Fear that someone might see something else in that footage?” “What could there possibly be in the footage?!” my father roared. “It was just Clara doing her job! What kind of lies are you trying to spin now?!” I turned to look out the window, my voice weary. “Because she was afraid. Afraid that you would all find out about her secret, twisted obsession.”

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At two in the morning, my brother called me in a panic, asking me to cover for him with his wife. “I’m on a business trip, there was a huge pile-up on the highway,” he said, his voice rushed. “The whole road’s blocked. I told Jessica I’m crashing at your place so she doesn’t worry. Just don’t blow my cover.” The location he sent me was, in fact, in my city, right near the downtown bus station. I was about to agree when a series of comments popped up in my vision, scrolling like a live feed. > 【LOL, he’s with a hooker. Using his sis for an alibi. What a scumbag.】 > > 【Yeah, and his wife is 6 months pregnant with their second kid.】 > > 【This is the night he gets HIV. Infects the baby and everything.】 > > 【His wife, Jessica, ends up hating Lily’s guts for this. She was already on her way to check on him but Lily convinces her to go back.】 > > 【No wonder she gets stabbed to death.】 1 I blinked, my blood running cold. *Stabbed to death? Me?* On the other end of the line, my brother, Mike, was getting impatient. “Lily, did you hear me?” he snapped. “If Jessica calls, you just play along.” Maybe it was the pop-ups, but I could have sworn I heard a woman’s muffled voice in the background, asking him if he was done. Mike’s voice became urgent. “Look, just handle it. Jessica’s six months along. If she gets stressed out and something happens, you’ll be the villain of the family! You think Mom will ever forgive you?” He was about to hang up. On instinct, I nudged the cat sleeping next to my pillow. Mochi let out a loud “Mrrow!” Mike paused. “Lily?” he asked, a flicker of uncertainty in his voice. “Lily! Say something!” I poked Mochi again. He meowed, louder this time. My brother exploded. “Damn it! That stupid cat! Useless piece of crap that just gets in the way!” 2 The line went dead. I sat there, hugging Mochi, my head spinning but my heart pounding like a drum. I’d been half asleep when I answered, so I hadn’t said a single word. I’d brought Mochi home for Christmas once; Mike knew he had a habit of messing with my phone. He must have thought the cat answered the call, which is why he felt free to curse like that. I looked around the dark room. The pop-up comments were gone, as if they’d never been there. It felt like a bizarre dream. Real or not, I had one rule: I don’t get involved in my brother’s drama. Ever. I fell back onto the bed, clutching Mochi, and forced myself to breathe. I had less than five hours before my alarm went off. I needed to sleep. *THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!* *BANG-BANG-BANG!* The sound of someone hammering on my front door jolted me awake. I grabbed my phone, my thumb already hovering over the 911 button. “Lily! I know you’re in there! Open this door! Open up!” It was my sister-in-law, Jessica. What the hell was she doing here? I crept to the door and peered through the peephole. Jessica, her belly swollen under her coat, was slamming her fist against the door over and over. The clock on my phone read 3:00 AM. 3 We were separated by a thin sheet of wood, but seeing her face, twisted with rage, terrified me. My phone buzzed with notifications from my building’s group chat—neighbors were already complaining about the noise. Suddenly, Jessica clutched her chest, gasping for air. Pregnant women can get short of breath easily. Worried she was having a medical emergency, I quickly unlocked and opened the door. The second it was open, she stood up straight, her breathing perfectly normal. She shot me a nasty look. “So, you *were* home,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just gonna let a pregnant woman stand out here and knock until she collapses, huh?” She faked it. Just to get me to open the door. Her face was a hard mask as she shoved past me, slammed the door shut, and locked it from the inside. Then she started storming through my apartment. The kitchen. The bathroom. The bedroom. She threw open each door, letting them bang against the walls. “Jessica, what are you doing? My neighbors are going to file a complaint.” She completely ignored me. Holding her belly with one hand, she ripped open my closet, threw open cabinets, and tore back the shower curtain. Then it hit me. She was looking for someone. I blurted out, “Mike’s not here! Stop looking!” She froze. Her head snapped around, and her eyes locked onto mine. “How did you know I was looking for your brother?” 4 I stumbled for a second, then recovered. “Jessica, we’re not exactly besties. You show up at my door at 3 AM—you think you’re here to check on my social life?” She let out a short, bitter laugh. Maybe she was done searching, or maybe she was just tired. She sank onto my couch. “Your brother told me he was staying here tonight. So why isn’t he here?” That liar. He couldn’t even get ahold of me and he was still using me as an alibi? I was done with their marital problems. I decided to just tell her the truth. “Look, Mike called me around two. He said he was stuck in a pile-up after a car crash and told me to lie for him if you called, because he didn’t want you to worry. I was half asleep and never actually agreed to anything. You can check my call log.” I pulled out my phone, but I realized it proved nothing. The call was only thirty seconds long. I hadn’t thought to record it. And the location screenshot he’d sent me? He’d already unsent it. All I could prove was that we’d been in contact. Jessica looked at me with a smirk that was anything but amused. She pulled out her own phone. “Funny,” she said. “Because your brother sent me a live location share twenty minutes ago. It pinned him right here. In your apartment complex.” 5 What? There was no way Mike had a change of heart and decided to come to my place, only to then decide not to wake me up. But the idea that he drove all the way to my complex just to send a fake location pin seemed insane, too. The bus station he’d screenshotted for me was a good thirty-minute drive away, meaning an hour round trip. Mike couldn’t predict the future. In his mind, his six-months-pregnant wife should have been a hundred miles away, asleep in their bed. And the pop-ups said this “check-up” was a spur-of-the-moment decision. While my brain was trying to process this, there was a loud *CRACK* on the coffee table. I jumped. Jessica had slammed her phone down. Her face was a terrifying mask of fury. “You know what, Lily? I’m starting to think you and your brother are the same kind of trash!” she spat. “This isn’t the first time he’s been out all night. Every single week, he tells me he’s coming here to ‘drop something off for you’ and stays over. I never suspected a thing! I just thought you two were close.” Her eyes filled with tears, her voice cracking. “But last week, he came home with a scratch down his back. A nail mark. That’s when I knew something was wrong. So when he said he was coming to see you again tonight, I decided to check. And what do I find? You’re both in on it, lying to my face.” She was sobbing now, a raw, desperate sound. “He sent me a location from here, but he’s not in your apartment! That means *you* logged into his account and sent it for him!” Holy crap. I never would have made that leap in logic. So she didn’t come here to confirm he *was* here. She came to prove he *wasn’t*. 6 Jessica was staring at me like I was the enemy. As if *I* was the one who had cheated on her, not my brother. And the idea of Mike bringing me things every week was laughable. The only thing I’d gotten from him in the last six months was two bags of protein powder he was trying to get rid of. The gas to drive it over cost more than the powder itself. How could she possibly believe that? > 【This poor girl has no idea, does she? Her brother rented an apartment in her name. In this very complex.】 > > 【Every time he wants to see a hooker, he brings her there. He sends the location to his wife and says he’s dropping stuff off for Lily. The perfect cover.】 > > 【The mom set it all up. She stole Lily’s ID and co-signed the lease. That way, Jessica can’t trace the payments back to Mike.】 > > 【Yeah, she swiped the ID when they were all home for Christmas.】 I froze. Even with the pop-ups, I couldn’t remember when my mom might have taken my ID. You never think about it until you need it. At home, I just toss it in a drawer. And with modern security, it’s hard for someone to use your ID to take your money. But to *give* money away? That’s a different story. All my mom would need is my ID and a copy of my birth certificate to prove our relationship. She could easily walk into a leasing office and say she was helping her daughter rent a place. Who would ever suspect a mother of using her daughter’s identity to create a secret love nest for her son? 7 A chilling cold spread through my chest. The pop-up comments were still scrolling, full of pity. > 【That mom is something else. Golden child son wants to cheat, so she helps him and throws her own daughter under the bus.】 > > 【Lily is the real victim here. She’s been set up from the start. After she convinces Jessica to go home, Jessica eventually finds out about the apartment in Lily’s name. She hates Lily even more than Mike and just snaps. Stabs her.】 > > 【The worst part is, Lily dies without ever knowing why.】 > > 【From her perspective, she just told a small white lie to keep her pregnant sister-in-law from worrying.】 > > 【But Lily didn’t agree to lie this time, did she?】 > > 【Doesn’t matter. Jessica’s already here. Mike has used Lily as an excuse so many times that Jessica sees them as a team. She won’t believe a word Lily says now.】 > > 【This was Mike’s plan all along. Keep his sister and wife from talking, create misunderstandings, and shift all the blame.】 > > 【Look at it now. To Jessica, Lily is the accomplice. To Lily, Jessica is a psycho who showed up in the middle of the night.】 The comments hit me like a splash of cold water. They were right. From the moment she walked in, I’d seen Jessica as an unhinged lunatic. We had no personal issues, yet we were screaming at each other, and I was seconds away from slapping her. > 【Meanwhile, Mike is off having a good time, completely invisible. And when he gets sick, his sister will be the one to pay for it with her life. The nerve of this family is off the charts.】 I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Why would my brother go to such lengths to drag me into his mess? Why would he risk getting a disease that could kill him and his own child? HIV is a death sentence. What was he possibly gaining from this? Someone in the pop-up feed asked the same question. > 【Let’s look at the timeline.】 > > 【The mom and Mike set this plan in motion over six months ago. Him getting HIV is an accident that happens tonight. The affair itself was the plan.】 > > 【So, in the original plan, why does all the hatred get directed at the sister? Why does the sister-in-law, who barely knows her, come straight to her apartment?】 Goosebumps broke out on my arms. The answer was sickeningly clear. > 【Because from the very beginning, her family wanted her dead.】 8 My mother and brother wanting me dead… it had to be about the condo. I’d just bought this place. Over Christmas, my mom kept dropping hints about how hard life was for Mike and Jessica, how my niece was about to start elementary school, and how my new condo just happened to be in a fantastic school district. She kept talking about them needing to have another baby, how they’d never be able to afford a bigger house. At the time, I didn’t know they were already expecting again. I just told her they should focus on their finances before having more kids, that in today’s economy, children were a luxury. Was that enough to make them hate me so much they wanted me gone? And what about Jessica? Even if she killed me, she’d go to prison. Would Mike really gamble with the future of his own child’s mother? Jessica slammed her hand on the table again. “Where is your brother?” she screamed. “Is he leaving us? Is he with someone else?” A single thought cut through my panic. I seized on it. “The baby,” I asked, my voice steady. “It’s another girl, isn’t it?”

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The moment I found out my husband was celebrating his mistress’s birthday—again—my world finally went gray. I walked to the balcony of our penthouse, the city lights a blur of indifferent glitter below, and prepared to jump. Just as I pulled myself onto the ledge, words began to flash in the air, shimmering like a digital mirage against the night sky. [OMG, DON’T DO IT! IN THE FUTURE, THAT MAN WILL BE ON HIS KNEES LICKING YOUR BOOTS!] [IF YOU DIE NOW, YOU’LL MISS HIM BEGGING FOR YOU BACK!] [YOU DON’T BELIEVE US? FINE. IN EXACTLY TWO MINUTES, YOUR HUSBAND IS GOING TO TEXT YOU. HE’LL TELL YOU TO DRAW HIM A BATH AND WAIT FOR HIM TO COME HOME.] I hesitated, half-incredulous, half-intrigued. And then, precisely two minutes later, my phone buzzed on the patio table. It was him. I came to believe these messages were here to help me save my marriage. So when my husband came home, I did exactly what they told me to do. I opened the door, a silk robe caressing my skin and a fresh, angry-red hickey blooming on my neck. 1 The sound of the key turning in the lock sent a jolt through me. I took one last, deep breath and pulled the door open. Ethan was propping up a drunken Tessa, his suit reeking of a cloying mix of perfume and whiskey. His brow was furrowed in that familiar, preemptive way, his excuses already forming on his lips. “She’s drunk, I just…” “I have plans tonight.” My voice, as smooth and placid as still water, cut through his prepared speech. He froze. I stepped aside, creating a path for them into the marble foyer. “Go on, get her settled,” I said with a serene smile. “Take a shower and get some rest. Don’t worry about the mess, the housekeeper will handle it in the morning.” The string of calm, considerate words, so unlike the hysterics he was expecting, left him utterly stunned. Ethan’s gaze, finally pulled from his shock, landed on me. For the first time in years, he looked at me like he was seeing a stranger. The black silk slip dress, a relic from a time before I’d made myself small for him, clung to curves he’d long ignored. And then his eyes found it: the garish, purple-red mark on my neck. His face darkened instantly. “What is that on your neck?” The question was a low growl, laced with a tremor I hadn’t heard in his voice since we were young and still afraid of losing each other. I instinctively raised a hand to cover the spot, my eyes darting away in a practiced display of panic. “It’s nothing. A mosquito bite, probably.” Without giving him another glance, I grabbed my purse from the sofa, slipped on my heels, and walked past him. “Where are you going?” he demanded, his voice tight with a rage he was barely suppressing. I didn’t turn back, giving him nothing but the sway of my hips and the sharp click of my heels on the floor. The moment I was outside, the cool night air hit me, and my carefully constructed composure crumbled. I leaned against the brick exterior of our building, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Comments,” I whispered to the empty street, “did I… did I do the right thing?” Instantly, the shimmering text flooded my vision, wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. [THE RIGHT THING? GIRL, YOU KILLED IT! YOU ARE THE QUEEN!] [DID YOU SEE THE LOOK ON HIS FACE? I COULD WATCH THAT ON A LOOP FOREVER. PRICELESS!] [YOU’VE BEEN TOO GOOD FOR TOO LONG. HE GOT SO USED TO IT, HE THOUGHT YOU HAD NO WHERE ELSE TO GO!] [REMEMBER THE RULE: GOOD GIRLS GET A PAT ON THE HEAD. BAD BITCHES GET EVERYTHING.] I thought of the shock and raw, possessive anger on Ethan’s face—a flicker of the man who once cared. And I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that the comments were right. [YOU HAVE TO COMMIT! GO TO A CLUB! SOMEPLACE HE CAN’T FIND YOU!] A club? I was the kind of woman who apologized when someone else bumped into me. But the words felt like a thousand invisible hands, pushing me forward into the night. The music was a physical force, a wall of sound that vibrated through my bones. Strobe lights fractured the darkness, catching glimpses of bodies writhing on the dance floor. I huddled in a corner booth, clutching a cocktail I hadn’t touched. [DON’T BE SCARED, HONEY! YOU’RE GORGEOUS! OWN IT!] [FEEL THE BEAT! LET YOURSELF GO!] Swept up by their encouragement and the intoxicating energy of the room, I found myself walking onto the floor. My movements were stiff at first, a clumsy translation of the rhythm. But then, slowly, I let the music take over. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t thinking. I was just moving. And it was pure joy. Hours later, flushed and breathless, I returned to my table and finally checked my silenced phone. The screen glowed with a single notification: Ethan (27) Missed Calls. My husband, the man who hadn’t bothered to call me back in over a year, had called me twenty-seven times. It was a complete reversal of our dynamic, where I was always the one desperately trying to track him down. [IGNORE HIM! LET HIM STEW! GIVE HIM A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE!] I obediently shoved the phone back into my purse, a slow smile spreading across my face. It’s not that I don’t want to come home, darling, I thought. It’s that I need to make you fall in love with me all over again. You’ll understand. You have to. 2 I stayed out all night. When I walked through the door at dawn, exhausted and hungover, the living room lights were blazing. Ethan was on the sofa, his eyes a roadmap of red veins. The ashtray at his feet was overflowing with crushed cigarette butts. The second he saw me, he shot up and grabbed my wrist, his voice a raw rasp. “Where were you?” I could still smell the faint, floral scent of Tessa’s perfume clinging to him. He stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “You’ve never done this before. You never stay out all night.” I met his gaze and gave him a slow, innocent blink. “And what if I do?” “Ethan, we’re both adults. We’re allowed to have our own lives, aren’t we?” My words struck him dumb. In those bloodshot eyes, for the first time, I saw a flicker of something new: fear. “Isn’t that what you always told me?” I tilted my head, my smile disarmingly sweet. “You were busy. You had a work dinner. You said… adults need their own space.” I served his own bullshit back to him, word for word. My heart was pounding, my palms slick with nervous sweat. [STAY IN CHARACTER! DON’T BREAK! YOU’RE IN YOUR VILLAIN ERA NOW, AVA!] [YES! FIGHT FIRE WITH FIRE! SO SATISFYING!] The comments were my armor. Just then, the master bedroom door clicked open. Tessa emerged, wrapped in a large silk robe, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was my favorite robe. A year ago, the sight would have sent me into a jealous rage. I would have clawed her eyes out. [HERE WE GO! THE MAIN EVENT! REMEMBER, THE FIRST ONE TO GET ANGRY LOSES!] I took a deep, steadying breath. Calm was my greatest weapon. Tessa feigned a gasp when she saw me, her voice dripping with syrupy sweetness. “Oh! Ava, you’re back! I’m so sorry, I had a little too much to drink last night, and Ethan was worried I’d ruin my clothes, so… he just found one of your old things for me to wear. You don’t mind, do you?” Ethan looked deeply uncomfortable. “Her dress was dirty,” he mumbled. “I just grabbed the first thing I saw.” “Mind?” I laughed. I walked straight over to Tessa, my tone full of gentle reproach—but my eyes were fixed on Ethan. “How could you give Tessa one of my old hand-me-downs? That’s so thoughtless.” Before either of them could react, I took Tessa’s hand and led her, stunned, toward my walk-in closet. I pulled a brand-new, tags-still-on silk chemise from a box and pressed it into her hands. “This one’s new. It’ll be perfect with your skin tone. Go on, try it on. It’ll look beautiful.” [HOLY SH*T! QUEEN BEHAVIOR! THAT’S NOT JUST A POWER MOVE, THAT’S A PUBLIC EXECUTION!] [TESSA’S FACE! SHE THOUGHT SHE WAS MAKING A STATEMENT, AND AVA JUST TREATED HER LIKE A BARGAIN BIN SHOPPER!] I ignored their petrified expressions, went into my own room, and changed into a sharp pantsuit. On my way out, I stopped at the safe hidden behind a painting in the hall and retrieved a velvet jewelry box. “Where are you going now?! What is that?” Ethan finally snapped out of his trance, grabbing my arm. I immediately shook him off and opened the box. Inside, a breathtaking sapphire necklace and earring set glittered under the light. “Oh, this?” I said, my voice airy and casual. “It’s the ‘Heart of the Deep.’ You remember, the set you bought for eight million at that auction our first year of marriage? The one… you were planning to give to Tessa, before you thought better of it.” Ethan’s pupils contracted. I turned to Tessa with a look of apology. “So sorry, Tessa, it’s not that I’m being stingy. It’s just, you know Mr. Harrison from Apex Corp? The deal we’re trying to close? His wife saw this set a few weeks ago and fell in love with it. I’m meeting her for tea this afternoon, and I thought I’d give it to her. A little gesture to help move the project along.” “Are you insane?” Ethan’s voice was trembling. “You loved that necklace more than anything! You wouldn’t even let me touch it!” “I’ve had a change of perspective,” I said, looking him directly in the eye, my expression open and sincere. “It’s just a piece of jewelry, collecting dust. It’s time it started serving a greater purpose, don’t you think?” I smiled, snapped the box shut, and patted his shoulder. “You two have a nice, relaxing day at home. I have to run.” And with that, I walked out without a backward glance. The second I was in my car, the door shut, I clutched the velvet box to my chest and felt a sharp, stabbing pain. It was, for so long, the last tangible proof I had that he once loved me. To pretend it didn’t hurt to give it away would be a lie. [DON’T BE SAD, AVA! YOU HAVE TO SACRIFICE A PAWN TO CAPTURE THE KING!] [THAT APEX DEAL IS WORTH FIFTY MILLION TO HAWTHORNE INDUSTRIES! AS A MAJOR SHAREHOLDER, YOU’LL BE ROLLING IN IT!] [THINK BIGGER! YOU’RE TRADING A TAINTED MEMORY FOR POWER, MONEY, AND RESPECT. HE’S GOING TO SEE YOU IN A WHOLE NEW LIGHT!] I read the messages, took a deep breath, and nodded. They were right. It was time to think bigger. Trading a material object for my career was more than worth it. 3 The look of sheer delight on Mrs. Harrison’s face when I gave her the “Heart of the Deep” was everything. Just as I’d predicted, the deal between Apex Corp and Hawthorne Industries was finalized within the week. And Mr. Harrison personally requested that I be appointed the lead project manager. The days that followed were a blur. I threw myself back into the corporate world I had abandoned three years ago, soaking up information like a sponge. Meetings, spreadsheets, client dinners… my calendar was a solid wall of appointments. [YES, BOSS LADY! GO! LET HIM SEE HOW INCREDIBLY HOT YOU ARE WHEN YOU’RE FOCUSED ON YOUR CAREER!] [THAT’S RIGHT! DON’T PAY HIM ANY ATTENTION! MEN ONLY SLOW DOWN THE GRIND!] The comments were my personal cheerleading squad. I could feel Ethan’s eyes on me whenever we were in the same room, a mixture of confusion, awe, and something else I couldn’t quite decipher. But I had no time to respond. Partly because the comments told me not to, and partly because I was just too damn busy. On the night of the celebration gala for the Apex deal, I was, as project lead, expected to attend with Ethan. I chose a champagne-colored, mermaid-style gown that hugged every curve. When I stepped out of the bedroom, Ethan was leaning against the wall, waiting. The moment he saw me, his breath hitched. The look in his eyes was one of pure, unadulterated shock and admiration. A spark of triumph lit inside me, but I kept my face a mask of cool indifference. “Are you ready to go?” I asked flatly. He swallowed hard and moved to open the door for me. Just as we were about to leave, a cloying voice cut through the air. “Ethan, honey? Ava? Where are you two going?” Tessa appeared out of nowhere, holding a glass filled with dark purple grape juice. She feigned a stumble, lurching directly toward me. The icy liquid soaked the front of my gown, blooming into a hideous, dark stain. “Oh my god! I’m so, so sorry, Ava!” Tessa shrieked, tears instantly welling in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to… I tripped! What are we going to do? The gala is so important tonight, and now you don’t have a dress. I guess… I guess Ethan will have to go by himself…” Every word of her apology was a carefully aimed dart. Ethan stared, first at the ruined dress, then at me. A flicker of indecision crossed his face. After a few seconds of tense silence, he actually opened his mouth and said it. “Maybe… Ava, maybe you should just go change. There isn’t much time. I can take Tessa with me to the event.”

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My best friend, whom I’d pursued for three years, and my rival, Kevin, who despised me, were locked in a perpetual war—and I was their battlefield. She pitied my unrequited feelings and accused him of being cold; he sneered that she was acting like my mother. I was stuck in the middle. Everything changed when her deadbeat, gambling-addicted father showed up on campus, causing a scene. Kevin, who supposedly hated her, was the first to step in—throwing a punch that sent the man stumbling. By the time I arrived, Kevin had him pinned to a wall, his eyes fierce. “She works three jobs to pay tuition, and you still want to bleed her dry?” he snarled. “It’s just fifty thousand, right? I’ll get it. Take the money and disappear from her life—or I’ll kill you.” “…How will you get it?” the man wheezed. “Her little rich-girl best friend has been after me for three years. I just have to ask, and she’ll bring the cash. Sienna is mine now.” 1 The man wiped a smear of blood from his lip and spat on the ground. “Alright, hero. You’ve got ten days. If I don’t see the money by then, I’ll haunt Sienna like a ghost. She can kiss this fancy school goodbye.” Just as he finished speaking, Sienna arrived, rushing to Kevin’s side and shielding him with her own body. Her father’s laugh was crude. “So, you two are sleeping together now?” “Get out!” Sienna’s voice was a choked sob, her lip trembling as tears streamed down her face. “I’ll get the money somehow! Just stop pushing me! If you push me any further, I swear, we’ll all go down together!” Her father just sneered and walked away. Sienna slumped against the wall, her strength gone. Even from a distance, I could see the raw tenderness in Kevin’s eyes. He knelt, his voice a soft murmur as he retied her shoelace. “You ran so fast, you didn’t even notice.” Sienna sank to the ground beside him, her fingers gently tracing the bruise on his cheek. The tears came faster. “…Don’t cry.” “Does it hurt?” she whispered. Kevin actually smiled, capturing her hand in his. “Kiss it and make it better.” His voice was so gentle it was barely a breath. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her fingers. Sienna looked down, but she didn’t pull away. “Don’t… Kevin, you know how Chloe feels about you. I can’t…” “But I’ve never liked her! She’s the one who won’t leave me alone! You know it’s always been you!” His voice was shaking with emotion. “Girls like her, these princesses born with a silver spoon… they’re not from our world. I could never be with someone like that. Never.” He pulled her into a fierce embrace, as if trying to merge their bodies into one. “You feel something for me too, don’t you? That night, when you were drunk… if Chloe hadn’t walked in, you would have been mine…” My nails dug into my palms, the sharp sting jolting me back to reality. That night… it must have been Kevin’s birthday. I had spent three months planning the perfect surprise for him. I’d gotten him a gift for every year of his life, from one to twenty-one. He hadn’t even cracked a smile. Later, I saw he had sold every single one of them online. The only gift he kept was the simple, hand-woven bracelet Sienna had given him. He never took it off. It had bothered me, but I’d pushed the feeling down. Even when I walked in on the two of them in the room next to the party, their clothes disheveled, I’d played dumb, telling myself they were just drunk. Another wave of pain washed over me. I forced myself to focus. Kevin’s voice drifted over to me. “Your father promised. Fifty thousand, and he’ll be gone for good. You’ll finally be free.” Sienna’s laugh was bitter. “And where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” “Ask Chloe,” Kevin said, stroking her hair. “She’s loaded. She spends more than that on a single handbag. Fifty grand is nothing to her.” “Don’t worry about it. I’ll ask her. That idiot is so obsessed with me, she’ll give me anything I want.” Tears welled in Sienna’s eyes. She nodded, then stood on her toes and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. In the shadows, where they couldn’t see me, my heart was being torn to shreds. I wanted to march over there, to scream, to demand an explanation. But I couldn’t. I just turned and walked away. 2 I somehow made it through my afternoon classes, a zombie moving through the motions. As I was heading back to my dorm, I saw him waiting outside the lecture hall. “Chloe.” His voice set off a ripple of whispers and giggles among the other students. “Wow, did Chloe finally land him?” “The pathetic stalker actually succeeded?” I ignored them and faced him. “What do you want, Kevin?” He looked… almost nervous. “I need to borrow some money…” Wow. Straight to the point. Not even a hint of pleasantry. He was so sure of himself, so confident that I would just roll over and hand him whatever he wanted, like the pathetic little dog he thought I was. But not this time. “No.” I walked past him, quickening my pace. He grabbed my arm, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with you? You’re being weird.” I didn’t answer. “Let me walk you back,” he offered, his voice suddenly smooth. “It’s still early. We could go for a walk. You always said you wanted to watch the moon. We could go to the field.” Yes, I did. I had asked him so many times. He had never once gone with me. Even on my birthday, I was the one who stood outside his apartment for hours, just for him to come down for a reluctant ten-minute chat. He didn’t like me. He had never liked me. This sudden charm offensive was nothing but a means to an end. It was laughable. I stared at the ground, kicking at a loose stone, biting my lip to keep the tears from falling. When I finally got back to my dorm, my roommate took one look at my face and sighed. “Kevin being an ass again?” I said nothing, which was answer enough. “Chloe, why do you do this to yourself?” she asked gently. “Is it just because he’s good-looking?” I blew my nose, still silent. It wasn’t that. It was never just about his looks. The first time I met him wasn’t in college. It was in high school. I was a hundred and seventy pounds back then, bloated and puffy from the steroids I had to take for a medical condition. Everyone avoided me. The other kids called me “Tank.” I wasn’t allowed to be in the school play because of my weight. I had to watch from the sidelines as the other girls danced, their pretty dresses making them look like graceful swans. After the show, they invited me to a cast party. I knew they just wanted me to pay for everything. But I was so desperate to fit in, I agreed. They got drunk on stolen beer and started calling me a stupid pig, calling me Tank. When I tried to defend myself, they locked me in a bathroom stall and poured a bucket of cold water over my head. “You don’t belong with us, you fat pig!” they shrieked through the door. I screamed for them to let me out, but they just laughed. It was Kevin who found me. He was just passing by. He saw me shivering and soaked to the bone, and he gave me his jacket. “Next time they bully you, you have to fight back,” he’d said. “If you’re meaner than they are, they’ll be scared of you.” Before he left, he handed me a lollipop. “Sweets make everything better,” he’d smiled. His face was silhouetted against the light, but I can still remember that smile, clear as day. He was the only person who had ever been kind to me. And just like that, I fell for him. For the entirety of our senior year, I bought him breakfast every single day. I wrote him a love letter every single day. But I never had the courage to sign my name. The summer after graduation, I worked my ass off and lost eighty pounds. I applied to the same university as him. I had gone through hell and back just to be able to stand in front of him. But he didn’t recognize me. I truly, deeply loved him. And Sienna knew everything. She knew my entire, secret history with him. She was my only friend. We’d known each other since we were six. When her parents fought, they would lock her in her room for days without food. I was the one who climbed up to her fourth-floor window, broke the glass, and got her out. The week before our final exams, her father beat her so badly she had a fever of a hundred and four. I couldn’t get a taxi, so I carried her on my back for three miles to the hospital. The two most important people in my life had conspired to make a fool of me. A sob escaped my throat, and then I was crying, my head on my desk, my body shaking with the force of it. My roommate handed me a tissue. “Chloe,” she said, her voice hesitant. “There’s something… I don’t know if I should tell you.” 3 My heart stuttered. “What is it?” “It’s about Kevin and your best friend… I mean, you and Sienna are so close, I didn’t want you to think I was just spreading gossip.” “But I just… I don’t think things are as innocent as they seem between them.” It turned out, my roommate had stumbled across a social media account of Sienna’s that I had never seen before. The profile picture was her, but the account was a secret one. A finsta. She showed it to me. I clicked on it, and my world tilted on its axis. 【He took me to the top of the mountain to see the stars. The princess called him twenty times, but he didn’t pick up once. Apparently, they were supposed to go to a concert together. She waited for him outside for three hours… Tsk, tsk. Being a stalker is hard work.】 【He got sick and begged me to visit him in the hospital. But then the princess showed up, so I had to hide behind the curtain and watch her fuss over him. She brought a huge bag of expensive, imported fruit. We ate all of it after she left!】 【At the princess’s birthday party, he got drunk and pushed me against the wall in the room next door and kissed me… If she hadn’t walked in, we would have done it… So annoying.】 【The lunch the princess made for him? He fed it all to me, bite by bite… Hehehe.】 My fingers started to tremble as I scrolled further. 【So what if you have a little money? Do you really think you’re some kind of royalty?】 【Why are some people born with a silver spoon, while I have to claw my way through the mud? Anyone who has it better than me deserves to die.】 【I bet you don’t know this, but the guy you’ve been chasing for three years pins me against a wall and kisses me until my legs give out. 😉 】 I couldn’t read anymore. It felt like my heart was being deep-fried. I lay in bed all night, unable to sleep. My eyes were so swollen I could barely open them. The next day, I dragged myself to my big lecture class. Kevin was in this one too. I deliberately chose a seat in the back corner. But when he walked in, he sat down right next to me. He dropped his bag and held out his hand expectantly. “Where’s my breakfast?” Ever since I’d confessed my feelings to him, I had brought him breakfast every single morning. “I didn’t bring it.” His brow furrowed. “…What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” I kept my head down and didn’t answer. He kept talking. “I have a basketball game this afternoon. You’re coming, right? Make sure to bring extra water. My teammates will be thirsty too.” I took a deep breath, stood up, and moved to another seat. I saw the flash of surprise in his eyes. He started to follow me, but then the bell rang. I didn’t expect him to tell Sienna. But right after class, she found me, linking her arm through mine with a bright, fake smile. “Sweetie, what’s wrong? You seem down.” She reached up and squeezed my cheek, just like she always did. Her fingers brushed against the necklace I was wearing. It was a Tiffany piece, worth two thousand dollars. “That’s so pretty…” In the past, if she had said that, I would have taken it off and given it to her on the spot. I never cared about the price. This time, I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me.” She jumped back, startled, then forced another laugh. I saw the anger flash in her eyes before she hid it. She changed the subject. “You’re going to Kevin’s game this afternoon, right? Let me help you pick out an outfit! We have to make sure you look stunning. That lipstick is hideous, and your dress is so frumpy…” “He’s never going to like you if you dress like that.” I turned to face her, my gaze steady. “How did you know I was going to the game? Did Kevin tell you?” “Do you two talk often?” 4 She froze. The guilt was plain on her face. I pulled my arm away and walked off. In the end, I didn’t go to the game. I turned off my phone and slept until evening. When I woke up, I was scrolling through the campus confession page and saw a photo of Kevin. It had been posted by one of his admirers. In the picture, a basketball was flying toward the stands, and Kevin had thrown himself in front of Sienna, shielding her with his body. The caption read: 【Is our campus heartthrob finally taken? My heart is broken… I saw them holding hands earlier. They’re so cute together.】 The comments started rolling in. 【OMG, isn’t that the best friend of the girl who’s been stalking him for three years? The drama!】 And then, Sienna herself commented. 【Don’t spread rumors. We’re just friends. I would never, ever go after my best friend’s crush.】 After posting that blatant lie, she immediately messaged me. 【Sweetie, don’t believe what they’re saying on the confessions page. It’s all nonsense.】 I didn’t bother to reply. For the next few days, I cut them both off. I didn’t confront them. I just… faded away. I needed time to process, to get my head straight before I said what needed to be said. My roommate was my rock. “Chloe, I’ve always thought you were a really great person,” she told me one night. “It’s just… you were always with Sienna. We’d ask you to hang out, but if she didn’t want to go, you’d back out too.” “She’s a total narcissist. She controls you, puts you down, and you just take it.” “I’ve always felt like you were a bit of a people-pleaser… but you don’t have to be. You can just be yourself, and people will love you for it.” Her words were a balm to my raw, wounded heart. Because of the bullying I’d experienced, I had always been so desperate for friends, so grateful for any scrap of acceptance. I thought it was a gift that anyone would even want to be around me. But I didn’t have to be that person. I was a good person. I deserved to be loved. I didn’t have to earn it. 5 The next day, I finally decided it was time. I was going to confront them. But before I could, I got a message from Kevin. 【I’m downstairs. Come down.】 I saw his familiar silhouette as soon as I stepped out of the dorm. He was leaning against the wall, smoking. He was holding a cup of bubble tea. “This is for you.” …Full-sugar bubble tea with pearls. He didn’t know I hated pearls, and I never drank full-sugar anything. I almost laughed. I didn’t take it. “What do you want?” I asked. He stubbed out his cigarette, his fingers trembling slightly. He must have been nervous. “Chloe, you’ve been chasing me for a long time. I can see that you really, really like me.” “I’ve thought about it. Let’s be together.” He was looking at the ground, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was as if he were bestowing some great honor upon me. Then, his tone shifted. “But…” “But?” “But you have to do one thing for me.” I knew exactly what he was going to say. But I made him say it anyway. “What is it?” “Give me fifty thousand dollars.” He said it so matter-of-factly. It was absurd. It was like he was playing a game. The way he was forcing himself to lie… it was almost funny. “Are you asking because of the money, or because you really want to be with me?” I asked, my voice sweet. He couldn’t even meet my eyes. He tried to act casual, forcing a laugh. “Of course I want to be with you.” “Plenty of girls have offered me money. There was this fat girl in high school who was obsessed with me. She used to leave me breakfast and love letters every day. It was disgusting. She was rich, I heard, but even if she had offered me a million dollars, I wouldn’t have given her the time of day.” “She should have looked in a mirror. She was repulsive.” He was still smiling as he said it, as if he were sharing a funny story. My heart seized. It felt like a hand was squeezing my throat. I looked up at him. “Do you remember her name?” “Who would remember her name? She was as fat as a pig. I just remember… everyone called her Tank. It’s hilarious, right? What a stupid nickname.” Hilarious. All the courage it had taken me, all the love I had poured into those letters and those breakfasts… it was all just a joke to him. “So, what do you say? You and me? It’s only fifty grand. Your family’s loaded. It’s not like you can’t afford it, right?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Fifty thousand is just a few handbags to me. It’s nothing.” A hopeful gleam appeared in his eyes. “But I’m not giving it to you. And I’m not going to be with you.” “You love Sienna, so you should be the one to earn the money to fix her problems. Asking me for it? What does that make you? A pathetic leech.” “You and Sienna… you two disgusting people deserve each other.” “I’m done with you, Kevin. If you two want to be beggars, go beg someone else.” “You’re bad luck.”

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Ten years ago, a car crash stole my memory. I was a woman who swore she’d never marry. My parents saw their chance. They handed me over to the man they’d chosen, Ethan Thorne. But Ethan despised me. His heart belonged to someone else—the one that got away. Marrying me was just an obligation, a concession to his family’s pressure. I thought a child might bridge the chasm between us, but after our son was born, Ethan started bringing her home. And Aidan, my son, who used to cling to my leg, slowly turned against me. He learned that insulting me was the quickest way to win his father’s approval, and hers. They looked just like a family. A perfect, happy family of three. Then, over something trivial, Aidan shoved me down the stairs. I hit my head. And in the sterile quiet of a hospital room, I woke up. I remembered everything. 1 The flood of information was overwhelming, a decade of a life I didn’t choose crashing down on me all at once. My mother was sobbing beside the bed, a frantic, grating sound that made my head throb. A vein pulsed violently at my temple. “Stop crying.” Her tears choked off instantly. I frowned, the skin between my brows tight. “How is what you did any different from human trafficking?” “I’m sorry, Clara,” she whispered, her eyes red-rimmed and pleading. “Your father and I… we just wanted to see you settled. To have a family.” My gaze dropped to the burn on the back of my hand, the skin still puckered and angry. I’d gotten it a few days ago, making soup for my husband and son. Neither of them took a single bite. Aidan dumped the entire pot down the toilet, claiming the sight of it made him sick. Seeing my silence, my mother reached for my hand. “Clara, look, you have a child now. He’s a wonderful boy. Can’t you just… try to make a life with Ethan? For Aidan’s sake?” I pulled my hand from her grasp. “I’ll think about it.” My mind was a chaotic storm. I never wanted to get married. I certainly never felt equipped to raise a child. But the facts were unavoidable. The damage was done. It felt like I’d woken up from a long sleep to find my world had ended. Just then, the door swung open and Ethan walked in. His eyes flickered to the white gauze wrapped around my head before his face settled into its usual cold mask. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone flat. “I’m fine.” His voice deepened, already shifting into a defensive posture. “Aidan didn’t mean to push you,” he said. “You can’t put all the blame on him.” He turned toward the door. “Aidan. Come in here and apologize to your mother.” A bitter, ironic laugh caught in my throat. Aidan. For Ava. The son I had given birth to was just another piece of their twisted fantasy. Aidan shuffled in, his face set in a sullen pout. He stood by my bed, silent, refusing to speak. My mother gave him a gentle nudge. “Go on, sweetie. Apologize to Mommy.” He mumbled it, the words barely audible and dripping with resentment. “Sorry.” “Okay.” Aidan’s eyes widened in surprise. He was expecting the usual routine: me rushing to comfort him, absolving him of all blame, probably even apologizing for being in his way. My mother quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Well, that’s that! All settled. We’ll just let bygones be bygones.” She smiled brightly. “I’ll drive you all home.” 2 Back in the house that had never felt like mine, Ethan grabbed his car keys from the hook by the door. “You should get started on dinner. Aidan hasn’t eaten yet.” “I’m heading back to the office,” he added, shrugging on his coat. “Don’t wait up.” He was out the door before I could respond. I stood in the kitchen, surrounded by gleaming appliances and expensive cookware, and felt a strange, detached sense of familiarity. The woman I was before the accident couldn’t cook to save her life. This woman, this ten-year stranger, could apparently prepare a gourmet meal. The hands that had once played piano and held a paintbrush were now covered in calluses, rough as sandpaper. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you cooking? I’m hungry.” Aidan stood behind me, his small face dark with impatience. I pressed my lips together and turned to the sink, my movements stiff as I started washing vegetables. He watched me for a moment longer, then, satisfied, left the kitchen. When the food was ready, I set the steaming plates on the dining room table. Aidan took one bite and slammed his fork down. “This is disgusting,” he spat. “Can’t you do anything right? You’ve been cooking for ten years and you’re still terrible at it.” I sat down and calmly tasted each dish. They weren’t terrible. In fact, they were good—as good as anything our family chef used to make. Aidan muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “Useless. Can’t even cook.” He sighed dramatically. “Not like Aunt Ava. She can paint, and she knows how to race cars. She can do anything.” He looked me right in the eye. “I don’t know why Dad ever married you. You’re nothing compared to her.” His words, sharp and practiced, hung in the air. Expressionless, I reached over and took his plate away. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.” His jaw dropped, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you trying to starve me?” A muscle tightened in my cheek. “You’re the one who said it was disgusting.” “So make me something else!” he demanded, his face flushing with anger. “I’m not your maid.” I turned my attention back to my own plate and continued eating. With a furious scream, Aidan kicked the leg of the table, jumped down from his chair, and stormed off to his room. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. 3 “Why didn’t you feed our son?” Ethan was home, his face a thunderous mask as he confronted me in the living room. “Aidan didn’t mean to push you, Clara. Do you really need to be this petty with a seven-year-old?” I glanced past Ethan’s shoulder. Aidan’s bedroom door was cracked open, a sliver of light cutting through the darkness. I could feel him watching, listening. When my eyes met the crack, the door silently closed. “He said my cooking was disgusting,” I said, my voice even. I met Ethan’s gaze directly, without the fear and deference he was used to. He yanked at his tie, his voice rising. “So you make him something else! He’s a child, for God’s sake. You can’t just let him go hungry.” A softer figure appeared behind him. Ava. She slid her arm through Ethan’s, her touch instantly calming him. “Ethan, darling, don’t shout,” she murmured, her voice like honey. “You’ll frighten Clara.” She looked at me, a picture of gentle concern. “We can talk about this calmly.” Ethan’s posture relaxed. He took her hand, his expression softening. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just got worked up.” He looked at Ava, his eyes full of a tenderness I had never seen. “Did I scare you?” She shook her head, her smile serene. “Just don’t get so angry. It’s not good for you.” I was used to this. Used to Ava being a permanent fixture in our home. After Aidan was born, she was here constantly. She spent every Christmas with us. Every New Year’s Eve, the three of them would go outside to light fireworks, a perfect family portrait against the night sky, while I was inside, cleaning up the dinner party they’d left behind. I had swallowed my pride and endured this humiliation for a decade. And in that moment, something inside me finally snapped. I had lived ten years of this pathetic, suffocating lie, all because of a memory I’d lost. Now that it was back, why should I live this way for one more second? “I want a divorce.” “What did you say?” Ethan’s voice was sharp with disbelief. “A divorce.” He stared at me for a beat, then let out a short, incredulous laugh, as if I’d told the most absurd joke in the world. “Your family was the one who forced this marriage on me, and now you want a divorce?” “Clara, don’t be impulsive,” Ava said, her eyes welling with manufactured tears. She let go of Ethan’s arm and stepped toward me. “Is it because of me and Ethan? Did you misunderstand something?” She looked heartbroken. “I’ll keep my distance from now on, I promise. Please, don’t do this. Don’t let Aidan grow up without a mother.” The performance was so flawless it made my stomach turn. I had fallen for it before. The old, amnesiac Clara would have believed her, only for Ava to run to Ethan later, twisting my words and making me seem like the villain. It was a game they played, a game that had steadily poisoned my husband and son against me. “My lawyer will be in touch with you to discuss the details.” I didn’t waste another word. I walked past them and started packing a suitcase. “Stop playing these games, Clara,” Ethan snarled from behind me, his voice laced with contempt. “Your pathetic little schemes don’t work on me.” He stormed out. Ava shot me a triumphant, pitying look before hurrying after him. “Ethan!” 4 Aidan stood in my doorway, beaming. “Are you really leaving?” I didn’t answer him. He clapped his hands together, practically dancing with excitement. “Great! After you’re gone, Aunt Ava can be my new mom!” My hands paused for a fraction of a second over the suitcase before moving even faster. I had to get out of this house. The stupidity of the child, the insanity of the man—it was suffocating. Aidan kicked the side of my suitcase. “Hurry up. Pack your stuff and get out.” He narrowed his eyes, mimicking his father’s disdainful expression. “You’re dragging this out on purpose, aren’t you? Trying to think of some new trick.” He scoffed. “Dad was right. You’re a nasty woman, full of bad ideas.” A laugh escaped my lips, sharp and humorless. For years, I had treated this boy like he was the center of my universe. And now he was telling me to get out, calling me a nasty woman. You could raise a dog for seven years, and it would at least wag its tail when it saw you. I had raised a son for seven years, and he wanted someone else to be his mother. Ethan’s genes were truly something else. I zipped the suitcase shut and walked past him without a word. As I reached the front door, he called out, his voice giddy with victory. “Don’t bother coming back! Nobody wants you here. Aunt Ava is my real mom. She’s the lady of this house now.” 5 After leaving the Thorne residence, I went to my own villa—a place Ethan knew nothing about. A text from him came through: Where did you go? Without hesitating, I deleted and blocked his number, along with all his social media profiles. He didn’t know about the properties in my name; I wasn’t worried about him finding me. But you should never tempt fate. It has a way of slapping you in the face. The next day, Ethan was standing on my doorstep, his face dark as a storm cloud. Without a doubt, my parents had sold me out. Again. “What are you doing here?” I asked, holding the door open just a crack. He reached for my arm. “Come home.” I recoiled, pulling back before he could touch me. “I wasn’t joking about the divorce.” He frowned, his expression a mask of genuine confusion. “You want to end our marriage just because Aidan accidentally pushed you down the stairs? He apologized, Clara. What more do you want?” He sounded exasperated. “Is it really worth throwing everything away over one little incident?” I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage that threatened to boil over. “Mr. Thorne, a divorce is the best option for both of us. You’ll be free to pursue your great love and be with the person you actually want. And I can finally live the life I want.” He laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “The life you want? Isn’t that with me? A happy family of three? Isn’t that why your mother called me, pressuring me to come get you?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low snarl. “Stop the act, Clara. I know your games.” I had told my mother last night I was leaving him. I should have known she wouldn’t listen. His anger washed over me, but I remained perfectly still, my face a blank canvas. “That was their dream, Ethan. Not mine.” My voice was calm, clear. “And I will make it clear to them that they are to stay out of our business from now on.” His brow furrowed, skepticism etched into every line on his face. “I never wanted to get married,” I explained. “My parents took advantage of my amnesia after the accident. They lied to me. Now, my memory is back. And I want my own life back.” I paused, looking him directly in the eye. “I am sorry that you were forced to marry me. I truly am. But for the last ten years… you owe me an apology, too.” Ethan froze. His pupils dilated, his face a kaleidoscope of shock and disbelief. “Pick a day,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s go sign the papers.” 6 After Ethan left, I drove straight to my parents’ house to settle the score. I found them in the living room, sipping tea and watching television, looking startled by my sudden arrival. I dropped onto the sofa without a word. Mrs. Chen, our longtime housekeeper and a master at reading the room, immediately appeared with a glass of my favorite mango juice, a silent offering of peace. “Mrs. Chen, could you give us a minute? I need to speak with my parents alone.” She glanced nervously at the couple, who were practically begging her with their eyes to stay. Then she looked at my face, which was as black as thunder. She wisely chose to obey me, disappearing back into the kitchen. “Clara,” my father began, his voice trembling slightly. “What a nice surprise. What brings you home today?” “Have you decided to formally adopt Ethan as your son?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Planning on handing the company over to him?” They both waved their hands frantically. “No, no, of course not!” my mother insisted. “We’ve doted on you since you were a little girl. Why would we ever do that?” My eyes narrowed. “Then why did you lie to me? Why did you make me marry him?” “We just wanted to see you settled,” my mother stammered. “Happy.” “Happy?” I repeated. “Do you have any idea what my life has been like for the past ten years?” She looked genuinely surprised. “But your mother-in-law always said you two were so happy together. And you seemed to like Ethan so much.” She wrung her hands. “He was always so good to you, so respectful to us. He did whatever I asked.” I held out my hand, showing them the angry red burn. “This is what your ‘good son-in-law’ looks like.” I lowered my hand. “A person with no memory who is forced into a marriage doesn’t fall in love. She becomes dependent on her husband because she has no one else. That isn’t love.” I stood up, my voice hard as steel. “Instead of trying to stop me from getting a divorce, why don’t you do some research into what he’s actually been doing for the last decade.” “I am divorcing him. And I don’t want the child.” My voice didn’t waver. “I will not raise a child who has already betrayed me.”

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In the fifth year of my marriage to Marcus, he found his true love. He was so worried I might hurt her that he kept her under a shield of fierce protection. When his best friend asked him why he didn’t just get a divorce, Marcus sighed. “Claire is the kind of woman you marry. She takes care of everything, the house, our lives. Nina’s too young for all that. She just needs to be with me.” Marcus wasn’t making a choice. He wanted it all. But I have no interest in collecting trash. 1 The first sign was the plant on Marcus’s desk. The money tree in its delicate white lotus pot was gone. In its place sat a succulent terrarium, a miniature, self-contained world. It had been a while since I’d last visited the office. This time, I had to be formally announced by his secretary before I could go in. Inside, a young woman in a crisp white pantsuit stood beside Marcus. She was his new assistant. The moment I entered, she snapped her folder shut and made to leave. I stopped her before she could escape. “Could you get me a coffee, please? Thank you.” She shot a quick, nervous glance at Marcus before scurrying out. I sat down across from him, and we began discussing our social calendar for the second half of the year—birthdays, anniversaries, business dinners. I took notes in my planner as we spoke. From the corner of my eye, I saw the assistant return with the coffee. I reached for it. Before my fingers even brushed the saucer, she let out a sharp cry. I yanked my hand back, but it was too late. Scalding liquid splashed across my skin. Marcus shot to his feet. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice sharp with alarm. “I’m fine.” “It’s nothing.” We spoke at the same time. I looked up at the assistant. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she stared at Marcus, a picture of wounded innocence. He grabbed my hand, inspecting the red splotches. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” the assistant stammered, her voice trembling. “I thought Mrs. Thorne had a firm grip on it before I let go—” “Get out,” Marcus snapped, his tone cold and severe. The assistant bit her lip, her face a mask of grievance, and ran out of the room, wiping away tears. I’d never seen an employee so comfortable being emotional in front of their boss. “Should we go to the hospital?” Marcus’s question pulled my attention back. I shook my head. “How did you end up hiring someone so clumsy?” Marcus, for all his polished and gentle demeanor, had zero tolerance for incompetence. Assistants who couldn’t keep up with his train of thought were quickly dismissed. One who couldn’t even carry a cup of coffee should have been fired on the spot. “She’s from a small town, easily spooked,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Her family’s got it rough. It’s not worth making a big deal out of it.” I said nothing more, but my heart began a slow, heavy descent. The company had clawed its way to the top through ruthless efficiency, not charity. And Marcus was never the type to go soft on anyone, especially not for a pretty face. This was uncharacteristic. A woman’s intuition in these matters is a terrifyingly sharp thing. I just needed to know how far it had gone. 2 Marcus’s phone, lying face down on the desk, buzzed a few times. He ignored it, diligently reviewing the gift list with me one last time. As I gathered my things, I asked, “Where should we go for dinner tonight?” “Oh.” He glanced at his phone, a guilty expression flickering across his face. “I’ve got a work thing tonight. You could come along, but… everyone will be smoking.” I waved him off. “You go ahead. I’ll head home.” He walked me to the elevator personally. “I know things have been busy. Thanks for handling all this. I’ll try to get home early tonight to be with you.” His voice was a low, seductive murmur. When he turned on the charm, that soft, devoted look in his eyes, he was irresistible. I smiled and waved as the elevator doors closed. Down in the parking garage, I called our driver. “I left a file in Marcus’s car. Could you come down and unlock it for me?” He arrived quickly. He was a company veteran who had been driving for Marcus since before we were even married. The backseat of the car was my personal storage space—a spare handbag, a jacket, a custom-made neck pillow. I turned on the recording pen, tucked it deep inside the foam of the front passenger seat’s headrest, and grabbed a random folder on my way out. “Thanks for coming all this way,” I said. “Your daughter is graduating this year, isn’t she?” “Yes, ma’am. She said her practice exam scores are looking good. It’s all thanks to the tutor you recommended back then. We wouldn’t have known where to start otherwise.” I smiled. “She’s a smart girl who works hard. And you’ve worked hard all these years for Marcus.” The driver’s expression shifted, becoming uneasy. “Mr. Thorne has been… very busy lately, Mrs. Thorne,” he said softly. “You should take care of yourself.” 3 Marcus was having an affair. The driver’s warning couldn’t have been clearer. By the time I got home, I felt as though all the strength had been drained from my body. A tiny, foolish part of me still clung to a sliver of hope. I just couldn’t understand it. Why would he do this? I hadn’t sensed a single crack in our relationship. He planned thoughtful celebrations for every holiday, every anniversary. My friends all envied me, seeing me as the cherished wife of a perfect husband. But… the truth was likely a bitter joke. Perhaps all those expensive gifts were just his way of paying off his guilt. I rubbed my throbbing temples, my mind frantically sifting through the years, searching for a clue, a forgotten moment, a missed sign. I found nothing. That assistant seemed so… plain. Compared to the other women who had tried to flirt with Marcus over the years, she was bland, almost timid. Suddenly, a memory surfaced. Timid… I sank onto the sofa, covering my eyes with my hand as a hollow laugh escaped me. I knew who she was. 4 Nina. I found her name in the company’s HR system. She’d been hired less than two months ago. But her history with Marcus went back four years. She had once shown up at our doorstep, dragging a burlap sack half-filled with produce from her hometown, wanting to thank the “kind benefactor” who had sponsored her college education. Marcus’s company made charitable donations every year; everyone knew it was primarily for the tax write-offs. It was a win-win. Sponsoring underprivileged students had been my idea. The arrangement was anonymous, so I have no idea how Nina tracked us down. She was thin and dark-skinned back then, with an air of rural simplicity clinging to her. She couldn’t meet our eyes, wouldn’t even step inside. She just mumbled her thanks and pointed at the sack. “We don’t want it. Take it with you,” Marcus had said, appearing in the doorway with a frown. His voice was laced with impatience. “And you don’t need to thank us. Don’t show up here uninvited again.” The girl’s eyes instantly filled with tears. I had nudged him, thinking he was being too harsh. She had come all this way, and it was a sincere gesture. I accepted her gift and had our housekeeper pack a bag of fresh fruit for her to take back. She refused it and ran off. Thinking back on it now, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. She had changed so much. No wonder I hadn’t recognized her. She was nothing if not persistent. 5 Marcus came home very late. He was drunk. The driver helped him inside, and he was calling my name. But this time, I didn’t rush to his side. I let the driver deposit him on the living room sofa. Before leaving, the driver placed the car keys on the console table by the door. “I feel sick… Honey, my head… it hurts so much.” I glanced at him once, then turned and went down to the garage. The car reeked of stale alcohol, but underneath it, I could smell the sweet, cloying scent of another woman’s perfume. Much of the dashcam footage had been deleted. My lips pressed into a thin line, I retrieved the recording pen. Soon, a tearful, feminine voice filled the silence. “Why were you so mean to me?” “Did you spill that coffee on her on purpose?” Marcus’s voice was sharp. Nina didn’t deny it. “You have no idea how much I love you! If you leave me, I’ll die!” she sobbed. “I’m jealous of her! I want you all to myself!” The sound of rustling fabric, a sharp intake of breath from Marcus. “I can do this for you. Can she?” Nina’s voice was a seductive whisper. “Open your mouth.” Marcus’s breathing was ragged, his voice urgent. A muffled gasp from Nina that was anything but pain, followed by sounds that were… unbearable to hear. I clamped a hand over my mouth, bile rising in my throat. It was disgusting. Utterly vile. I sat there, frozen in a cold sweat, forcing myself to listen, a strange form of self-torture. I don’t know how much time passed before the recording picked up new sounds. “You drank that much and you’re still going home?” It was Leo’s voice, our mutual friend from college and Marcus’s business partner. “A CEO taking shots for his assistant? It’s a little obvious, man.” “This isn’t like you, Marcus. Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for her.” Marcus laughed, his voice thick with alcohol. “She’s so naive. She says she doesn’t want anything, she just wants to be with me. Being with her… it’s relaxing. A completely different feeling. I can’t stand to see her get bullied… it makes my chest hurt. Is that… love?” Leo made a sharp sound. “Just have your fun, but don’t do anything stupid. You know Claire doesn’t tolerate bullshit.” When Marcus didn’t respond, Leo’s voice grew urgent. “If you care about this Nina so much, why are you making her your mistress? Why don’t you just divorce Claire?” Silence filled the car. After a long moment, Marcus let out a heavy sigh. “Claire and I… Claire is the kind of woman you marry. She helps me take care of our home, our life. I still have feelings for her, but… it’s not love anymore. It’s family. She’s my family.” “I don’t want to hurt Claire, but I can’t stop thinking about Nina. I can’t control it. It’s a feeling I’ve never had with Claire.” “Jesus,” Leo muttered. “You’re drunk. Stop talking.” “I’m not drunk, Leo,” Marcus mumbled. “My head is perfectly clear right now.” “Nina’s young, and pathetically naive. She loves me so much. She makes me feel free, happy in a way I’ve never felt before. She needs me.” “Claire is great, too. I admire her, but… I’m also afraid of her. She’s not officially in the company, but Finance and HR are filled with her people. She holds all the connections to our biggest clients.” “I have to constantly please her, cater to her. I don’t feel like her husband. I feel like her son. No… more like her slave!” Leo seemed at a loss for words. “Man… that’s not fair to Claire.” “I know,” Marcus said. “That’s why I’ll never divorce her. I’ll give Claire the title, and I’ll give Nina my love.” Leo sucked in a sharp breath. “You want both? What happens when Claire finds out?” Marcus was silent for so long I thought he had passed out. Then, his voice, slurred but firm, cut through the quiet. “I won’t let her hurt Nina.” Leo’s voice was filled with disbelief. “If you had to choose one… who would you choose?!”

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September 8th The day I divorced my cheating husband. The final, signed papers felt hot in my hands. As we stepped out of the courthouse, into the unforgiving sunlight, I turned to Grant Emerson. “I’m pregnant.” He stopped dead, feet bolted to the pavement. He stared at me, his eyes churning with something I couldn’t decipher. His voice was a tremor. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “Tell you,” I said, my gaze level with his, “and let you use a child to chain me to you?” “Grant, remember this.” “This baby is mine. Mine alone.” 1 My marriage to Grant Emerson was a hand-me-down from my sister. Poppy was effervescent and impulsive, a firefly in a jar who refused to be pinned down by something as archaic as a family alliance. So, she took a check for two million dollars and vanished. My mother, Eleanor, doting on her youngest while simultaneously terrified of losing a son-in-law like Grant, shoved me forward to take her place. She acted as if any daughter from the Pierce family would suffice, as if we were interchangeable parts. And Grant Emerson? In a city like New York, where old-money names are carved into library walls and hospital wings, his was etched the deepest. Poppy jilting him was a public humiliation. And now they were offering him… me? It was delusional. But I met with him once anyway. I made my pitch, a business proposal in the guise of a life partnership. And to my unending shock, he agreed. This year marked our fourth anniversary. To the outside world, we were a model couple. In private, we were courteous strangers who shared a bed with the same polite distance we shared a dinner table. Even sex was an exercise in decorum. My mother was constantly in my ear, nagging me about children, about my “uselessness.” If I didn’t secure him with an heir, she’d hiss, what was to stop him from running off? I always wanted to say, Grant isn’t a dog. And even if I wanted to leash him, did she really think he would allow it? But I never said that. I would just nod, my expression placid and agreeable. My meekness always infuriated her. She’d roll her eyes, her lips pursed in disgust, and sweep out of the room. The irony, then, was that I actually did get pregnant. 2 My period was late. First by a week, then two, then a month. Last night, I took a test. Two stark blue lines. This morning, I went to a clinic for a blood test to be sure. The doctor held the report. “You’re nine weeks along. Are you planning on keeping it?” “I think so.” But I hesitated. Grant didn’t know. This child was never part of our meticulously crafted agreement. I had to ask him. So I took the report and went straight to his office downtown. Grant was in a board meeting when I arrived. His assistant, a man of impeccable poise, showed me into the sweeping corner office, furnished me with a coffee and a plate of delicate pastries, and told me it wouldn’t be long. I lifted the porcelain cup to my lips, then paused. Could I drink coffee while pregnant? I had no idea. A quick search on my phone said it was fine in moderation. Good enough for me. I took a small sip, the rich, bitter warmth a familiar comfort. I let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, but it was cut short by a commotion from the reception area—a rising tide of voices and a woman’s sharp, piercing cry. I opened the office door a crack and found myself looking directly at a woman being held back by security. Her eyes, red-rimmed and furious, locked onto the space behind me. “Get Grant Emerson out here!” she screamed. “He knocks someone up and thinks he can just ghost them? Is he going to take responsibility or not?” The volume. The spectacle. The sea of staring faces. The humiliation was a physical blow. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. This has nothing to do with me, I wanted to scream back. And then Grant was there, a sudden calm in the storm. He moved through the crowd, his face a cold mask, and his eyes found me peeking through the doorway. In two long strides, he was in front of me, his large, elegant hand covering my eyes, blocking out the scene. I flinched back instinctively. With a soft click, he closed the door, shutting me inside. I blinked into the sudden quiet. Wait. My husband cheated on me, got another woman pregnant, and the woman was now staging a coup in his lobby. And I wasn’t supposed to be involved at all? 3 As it turned out, I was to be involved. Just not in the way I expected. Grant dismissed the crowd with a single, cutting glance. He murmured something to the woman, then opened the door and ushered her into the office, right in front of me. Watching his cool, unruffled demeanor, I had the absurd urge to applaud. To have an affair and handle the fallout with such brazen composure was, in its own way, a masterpiece of audacity. The woman was striking. Dressed in simple sweats, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail under a baseball cap. She dropped into a leather armchair, crossed her legs, and radiated an aura of “don’t mess with me.” She was also undeniably beautiful, with sharp, exquisite features and a cool, defiant gaze. It was the kind of beauty that made her hard to hate. A shame she had to open her mouth. “So this is your wife?” She didn’t even look at me. Her words were for Grant. “Divorce her.” “I’m pregnant. You have to take responsibility for me.” I felt a wry smile touch my lips. Well, I’m pregnant too. Who’s going to take responsibility for me? By all societal logic, as the wife, I should have had the upper hand. But when a marriage becomes a battlefield, it’s often the one with the least morals who shouts the loudest. “Sigh.” I sighed out loud, reaching for a small, buttery cookie from the plate. It was perfectly crisp, with a hint of vanilla. Delicious. “Want one?” I offered, holding it out. The woman stared at me, her expression one of pure disgust. She pointed a finger in my direction. “Is she insane?” she asked Grant. For the first time, a flicker of something—annoyance? frustration?—crossed Grant’s perfect facade. He frowned, took my hand, and pulled me into the adjoining private lounge. He lit a cigarette and smoked it down to the filter in tense silence. “It was one time,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly. “I was drugged at a fundraiser. It was an accident.” “Audrey.” He met my eyes then, his gaze unnervingly direct. “This is my fault,” he said. “Completely. So you get to decide what happens next.” “If you can forgive me, we’ll move past this. We’ll make it work.” “If you can’t, we’ll get a divorce.” The word, divorce, hung in the air. My heart skipped a beat, then began to hammer against my ribs. I dug my thumbnail into the soft flesh of my palm, an old, grounding habit. “It’s your fault, right?” I asked, my voice small. “If we get a divorce, you’ll admit that it was your fault, won’t you?” 4 Grant watched me, his expression unreadable. He was a handsome man. More handsome than any man I’d ever met. I liked looking at him. Especially in bed, from below, watching the way his eyes would glaze over with pleasure, listening to the raw, unguarded sound of his breathing. Moments like that, I could forget everything else and just feel. A divorce. It was a shame. But it wasn’t impossible. “So, your choice is divorce?” he asked, his voice flat. I nodded, gesturing vaguely toward the office beyond the door. “After all that? It doesn’t seem like there’s much of a choice, is there?” “It’s just… my mother. You’ll tell her it was your fault, right?” I needed to hear it again. His expression shuttered. A cold, unfamiliar distance crept into his eyes, and it made my chest ache. But I was an expert at managing that particular ache. A deep breath in. A slow breath out. And it was gone. Grant stood, brushing invisible dust from his tailored suit. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “I’ll handle it.” Phew. That was a relief. “About the divorce,” I began, my mind already shifting gears. “I don’t need much, but I want Helios Pharmaceuticals.” “Fine.” “And a house would be nice. If it’s not too much trouble.” “Okay.” “Could I also have, say, fifty million?” Grant turned back, his eyes narrowing. “You want everything, and you still want a divorce?” He took a step closer. “Don’t divorce me, and it’s all yours anyway.” I looked away, suddenly fascinated by my own shoes. That’s a nice sentiment, I thought. But you’re the one who cheated. If you hadn’t cheated, we wouldn’t be getting a divorce. If we weren’t getting a divorce, your wife and your child would both be yours. …Wait. Even with a divorce, he’d still have a new wife and a new child waiting for him. Damn. He really was a businessman. He’d done the math. No matter what, he came out ahead. 5 Grant took care of the woman. What they said, what he promised her, I never found out. By the time I emerged from the lounge, she was gone. The delicious pastries were gone too. Not a single crumb left. I eyed the empty plate mournfully. As we were leaving, I couldn’t help but grab his assistant’s arm. “Those little cookies from earlier,” I whispered. “Could you possibly pack some for me?” His expression was a masterclass in controlled bewilderment. Behind me, Grant let out a short, cold laugh. “Pack them for her,” he ordered. The scandal was too big to contain. By evening, my mother’s name was flashing on my screen. The first call, I ignored. The second, I let ring out. On the third, I stared at the screen for a long moment before walking to the kitchen and dropping my phone into the sink full of water. Finally. Peace. In the silence that followed, a single thought crystallized in my mind: I was going to have this baby. This child, a being formed from my own body, nourished by my blood, would grow into a new life. A life inextricably linked to mine. My own flesh and blood. My family. Why wouldn’t I keep him? Yes. I was going to keep him. The decision filled me with a giddy, unfamiliar excitement. I went to the wine cellar and opened a bottle of Screaming Eagle I’d been saving. Could you drink while pregnant? Probably not. But the internet said moderation. So, cheers. 6 At eight o’clock, my mother descended. The pounding on my front door was loud enough to be a public disturbance, but in this neighborhood of sprawling, isolated houses, there was no one to report it to. I put on my headphones and turned the stereo up, letting the music wash over me. Still, I could faintly hear her muffled shrieks through the bass. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew the script by heart. It would be a familiar tirade: “The Uselessness of Audrey” and its companion piece, “The Pointlessness of Audrey’s Existence.” No new material, nothing innovative, yet still profoundly exhausting to hear. After what felt like an eternity, the pounding stopped. Some time after that, the door to my study opened. Grant stood there. He plucked the headphones from my ears. In one hand, he held my waterlogged phone. In the other, a brand new one, still in its box. His face was impassive, his voice cold. “Put your SIM card in this.” “The lab couldn’t reach you, so they called me. Call them back.” I tilted my head back to look up at him. “You know, Grant, you weren’t wrong.” “What?” “You cheated, and that’s why we’re getting a divorce. And my mother still came here to blame me.” He stared down at me, his jaw tight. He took a deep breath. “I know. I’ll handle it.” Grant’s method of “handling it” was, to put it mildly, a catastrophic failure. I was tempted to leave him a one-star review. My mother stormed his office building and was stopped by security in the lobby. I had just come from the lab, having pulled an all-nighter on a sample that was yielding disappointing results. My whole team was demoralized. Grant would say this was a moment for encouragement, for a rousing speech about hope and perseverance. “But they’re human,” I’d argued. “It’s normal to be frustrated.” “Anyone who chooses this work has the courage to fail a thousand times and start over.” It was that resilience that I found so captivating. But my thoughts were interrupted by Grant’s secretary informing me that my mother had arrived, demanding to see me, and vowing not to leave until she did. The truth was, if I didn’t want to see her, she couldn’t make me. I took the private elevator down to the garage, got in my car, and was about to make a stealthy exit when she materialized in front of my vehicle like a phantom, her eyes glaring with feral intensity. There was no escape. I resigned myself to buying her a coffee. As we sat in a sterile cafe, I did a quick mental calculation. It had been 372 days since we had last seen each other. We were so close to a new record. A shame to have it broken. “You’re divorcing Grant Emerson?” she began, no preamble. “Yes.” “Are you mentally ill?” The attack came out of nowhere, a zero-to-sixty of maternal rage. The tirade continued. “Do you have a single functioning brain cell in your head? Who do you think you are, Audrey? What makes you so special? Every man strays, every single one. What, you think you’re different? You’re going to throw this all away over some trivial little thing? You’re not just embarrassing yourself, you’re embarrassing me.” “It’s your fault, you know. You couldn’t hold on to him. You couldn’t manage him.” “I told you, being smart isn’t enough! You have no social graces, no common sense. You’re stubborn, inflexible…” “Everyone always said I favored Poppy, but if you were even half as considerate, half as thoughtful as she is—” “You would still favor her,” I cut in, finishing her sentence. She froze, speechless for a second, before her voice rose to a shriek. “Audrey, must you always be so contrary?” No. I was just tired. I wanted to sleep. I was pregnant, and the tiny cluster of cells inside me needed to grow. I stood up to leave. But it was like I had flipped a switch. She lunged, grabbing my arm, her face contorted with rage. Just as she had done countless times when I was a child, she raised her hand to strike me. In that instant, a cold terror seized me. I could have dodged. I could have blocked her hand. I could have even fought back. But my body refused to obey. It was as if my neural pathways had been severed. I just stood there, frozen. A statue. A puppet with its strings cut. I couldn’t even breathe. 7 “Mom!” The voice was bright and musical. My mother’s hand stopped mid-air. She turned, her angry expression melting into one of delighted surprise. Standing in the doorway was a girl so full of life she seemed to vibrate. Even out of breath, her smile was radiant. “Poppy?” “When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Poppy bounced over and squeezed between us, linking her arm through our mother’s and leaning her head on her shoulder. “I wanted to surprise you! Oh, Mommy, I missed you so much.” Eleanor preened, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepening with pleasure. I took a small, subtle step back, giving them ample space for their mother-daughter reunion. My back hit something solid and warm. A wall of muscle. “Poppy, how did you get here? Who picked you up from the airport?” “Grant, of course!” Both of them turned their gazes to the man standing behind me. He had a steadying hand on my back. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice low. I took a shaky breath. “When exactly,” I asked, my voice tight, “did you reconnect with your former fiancée?” A muscle feathered in Grant’s jaw. “Right now, she is still my sister-in-law.” “Oh, my mistake. How did you reconnect with your sister-in-law?” He didn’t like that. I could see it in the clench of his jaw. Someone else didn’t like it either. Poppy pouted, stepping between us to take Grant’s arm. “Grant, what are you guys talking about? I called your name and you didn’t even answer.” She clung to her brother-in-law’s arm as naturally as she had clung to her mother’s. Eleanor’s eyes darted between them, a speculative gleam entering her expression. “Poppy, you two…” Poppy’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink before she even spoke. She stamped her foot playfully. “Mom, don’t be ridiculous.” “Grant and I, we’re just… we’re…” “Oh, I can’t talk to you people, you’re so annoying!” The unspoken words, the flustered denial—it was classic Poppy. A slow smile of dawning realization spread across my mother’s face, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes into canyons of delight. “Wonderful, wonderful!” “This is a happy day. Grant, you come with Poppy. We’ll all go home and have dinner together.” Everyone in the room was suddenly very busy. Only Grant spared me a final, fleeting glance. But in the end, he allowed himself to be led away by Poppy. And my sister, from the moment she arrived to the moment she left, never once looked at me. 8 With Poppy’s return, everything suddenly accelerated. That evening, my mother found the time to send me a text. [If you’re so determined to get this divorce, then get it over with.] [But since you’re the one asking for it, you’ll leave with nothing. Don’t be greedy. Our family can’t afford that kind of embarrassment.] At ten, Grant came to the lab. He brought late-night food for the team, and we had a short debrief. As he was leaving, I stopped him. “Is the divorce agreement being drafted? Helios Pharmaceuticals—that’s the one thing I won’t budge on. You can promise me that, right?” “Is there nothing else you want to ask me?” he said, his voice quiet. Actually, there was. “Are you about to be demoted to my brother-in-law? And what happens to the mother of your one-night-stand baby?” Grant let out a cold, humorless laugh. “What’s this? Divorcing me but still concerned about who’s taking your place?” I pursed my lips. He was clearly angry. “I’m just giving you a heads-up.” “If Poppy has her sights set on you, you’d better protect that woman and her child. When my mother gets desperate, even Poppy is afraid of her.” He didn’t respond. I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me. “Audrey.” “Yes?” He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he hesitated. After a long moment, all he managed was: “She has a name. It’s Sloane.” … “Oh.” 9 I never imagined that just hours after learning Sloane’s name, I would run into her. After deciding to keep the baby, I had my first official prenatal visit and a battery of tests at the hospital. As I was leaving, I got a frantic call from a former mentor who now ran a private clinic. “Your mother just dragged someone in here, trying to force an abortion. Do you know anything about this? She’s threatening to ruin my career!” What is the absolute limit of a person’s cruelty? This. This was it. To completely disregard another person’s will, their fundamental human rights. Because my family were major donors to that clinic, my mother believed she held the power of life and death in her hands. I didn’t hesitate. I called the police. Then I called Grant. No answer. After a moment’s thought, I turned my car around and headed for the clinic. The scene I walked into was pure chaos. Two groups of people were in a standoff, one restraining my mother, the other holding back Sloane. “You shameless homewrecker!” my mother screeched. “Destroying my daughter’s marriage, carrying a bastard child! If your mother didn’t teach you how to be a decent human being, I will!” “Who the hell do you think you are?” Sloane shot back, her voice dripping with contempt. “Yelling at me? I’m terrified. I was bitten by a rabid dog once as a kid.” “Who are you calling a dog?” “You, old woman! Get over here and I’ll show you what I can do!” “Ha! You seduce a married man and you think you’re righteous? Why don’t you just strip naked and put on a show for the whole street?” “Is that what you did? Speaking from experience?” … My mother was a storm of fury. Sloane was a hurricane, matching her blow for blow. If not for the people holding her back, she would have launched herself across the room. Then the police arrived. And so did the patriarch of the Pierce family, my father, Arthur, a man perpetually too busy for anything. The police tried to mediate. My mother and Sloane continued to trade insults. My father, ever the decisive executive, strode forward and slapped my mother across the face. “Shut up,” he snarled. “Haven’t you made enough of a scene?” Instantly, Eleanor fell silent, shrinking like a frightened bird. He turned to Sloane. “Ms. Sloane, I apologize for this incident. Name your terms. I only hope we can resolve this quietly. I’m sure none of us want this to escalate.” Sloane, her hair disheveled, looked ragged but unbroken. She let out a cold laugh. “Resolve it quietly? Not a chance. I’m pressing charges. I’m suing her. I want—” Crack. Another slap, this one on my mother’s other cheek. “Is that enough?” my father asked Sloane, his voice dangerously calm. “If not…” Everyone froze. Especially Sloane, her lips pressed into a thin, white line, her face pale with shock. And me, standing just outside the circle of chaos, my feet felt rooted to the floor. The hand at my side clenched into a fist so tight my nails dug into my palm. One slap. “Is that enough?” Another slap. “How about now? Is this enough?” My mother was dragging me by the hair, forcing me to face the little girl and her parents. “If you’re still not satisfied, how about this?” Another slap. It was that girl. She had torn up my test paper. I had pushed her. She fell and started crying, claiming I’d hit her. My mother arrived and slapped me without asking a single question. Asking them, is that enough? Did it hurt? I don’t remember. I just remember a wave of dizziness, a sudden, warm, spreading wetness. In front of everyone, I had wet myself. 10 When I was little, I could never understand why my parents didn’t like me. I got straight A’s. I learned everything quickly. Teachers praised me, and other adults complimented me. But never my parents. My father acted as if I were invisible. My mother’s gaze was always cold. “So you got another A? Are you showing off? Get out of my sight. The sight of you annoys me.” My accomplishments were never acknowledged. But my mistakes were magnified, scrutinized under her relentless lens. She was a quality inspector looking for flaws, and any tiny error on my part was cause for a festival of her scorn. I was lying on the living room rug, my mind drifting, when Poppy appeared above me, looking down. “Did you see my texts? I called you, too. You ignored me!” she said, her voice accusatory. “That’s really rude, Audrey.” I closed my eyes and rolled over. She plopped down on the rug beside me anyway. “When Dad got home, he laid into Mom. Told her if she lost Grant as a son-in-law, he would bring Rhys home for good.” Rhys. My father’s illegitimate son. Two years older than me. “Mom went ballistic. Smashed everything in the house. Now she’s insisting I have to be the one to marry Grant.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “When are you two finally getting divorced?” I didn’t want to talk to her. I started to get up, but she grabbed my arm. “Play chess with me.” I couldn’t hold back a scoff. “You? Play what? Tic-tac-toe? You’re terrible at chess.” Poppy just grinned, her eyes curving into crescents. We played two games. Each one lasted over forty minutes. She would study the board for a minute or two before every single move. Finally, not even halfway through the second game, I drifted off to sleep. Poppy noticed quickly. She waved a hand in front of my face. Then, moving with uncharacteristic quiet, she found a blanket and carefully draped it over me. She tiptoed out of the room, pulling the door gently shut, leaving me in peace. 11 Poppy had asked a good question. When were Grant and I getting divorced? He’d been away on business for a few days. He flew back today and went straight to the office from the airport. As soon as I heard, I drove over. But I was a step too late. His assistant intercepted me, his expression pained. “Dr. Pierce, the president’s office is… occupied at the moment.” “By who?” “Ms. Sloane.” Ah. She was probably here to settle accounts after the ordeal at the clinic. Nothing to do but wait. I waited for thirteen minutes. Grant did not emerge. Instead, Poppy and my mother arrived. The moment they appeared, I saw the assistant’s shoulders tense. He was going to need a raise. Three different women, all here to see the CEO about a divorce. The instant my mother saw me, her brow furrowed in disapproval. “What are you doing here?” Her face was still slightly swollen, a faint bruising that no amount of makeup could fully conceal. I looked away. “The divorce.” She let out a dismissive huff and sat down opposite me, pulling Poppy down with her. Poppy was absorbed in her phone, oblivious. “You’re the one who wants this divorce,” my mother hissed under her breath. “Besides, Grant was always meant for Poppy. You were just keeping her seat warm.” “And this is all your fault anyway. If you had managed Grant properly, none of this mess with the other woman and the illegitimate child would have happened.” “Audrey, did you do this on purpose?” Deep breath in. Slow breath out. I’d rather deal with the mistress. I stood up and, ignoring his assistant’s panicked expression, pushed open the door to Grant’s office. Behind me, I heard him trying to block my mother. “Mrs. Pierce, you really can’t go in there.” If the reception area was a warzone, the office was the bloody aftermath. Sloane had Grant pinned against the wall, her hands fisted in his collar, her body pressed against his. Grant’s eyes were smoldering with anger, but the edges were red. Whether from rage or something else, I couldn’t tell. I stopped in my tracks. They both turned to look at me, their expressions equally ferocious.

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