Category: English

My sugar momma’s first love, her “white moonlight,” returned from abroad. Everyone laughed. They said Claire Vance would toss me, the substitute, aside for him. But her “first love” dragged me to get a DNA test. “You guys look way too alike. I don’t believe there’s no blood relation.” That day, I discovered I was the long-lost heir to a billion-dollar fortune. 1 Claire Vance’s first love, Liam Thorne, was back in town. He dragged me to the hospital for a paternity test. While waiting for the results, I sat on a bench in the sterile hallway. To my left was Claire Vance, the domineering CEO who was keeping me. To my right was Liam Thorne, her unforgettable first love. I was sandwiched between them, sitting straight as a board. I didn’t dare move. Not an inch! I felt like a third wheel charged with 100,000 volts, utterly superfluous. I tried to move to another seat, but as soon as I started to rise, Claire and Liam each clamped a hand on my shoulders, forcing me back down. Claire: “Sit down. Don’t wander off.” Liam: “Sit. Wait for the results.” I sat back down timidly, squeezed between them like the pickle in a sandwich. The doctor pushed open the door, holding the report. Doctor: “Mr. Thorne, the results are in.” Liam stood up: “How is it? Is there a relation?” The doctor answered Liam: “Yes. He is your long-lost biological brother.” !!! I was shocked and instinctively pinched Claire’s thigh. Claire glanced at me but said nothing. Liam sighed in relief: “Good. My own brother.” I wanted to say something but stopped. Liam sighed: “The pressure of inheriting the family’s billions all by myself was too much. Now, finally, there’s someone to share the burden.” He gently stuffed a Black Card into my hand. “This card is yours from now on. I transferred fifty million dollars for your allowance. Spend it however you like.” For a moment, I forgot how to refuse! So, my mom wasn’t lying when she said I was picked up from a dumpster! I took the card with trembling hands, moved to tears! “Thanks, bro.” After all these years, my billionaire brother finally found me! 2 I shamelessly asked my brother: “Bro, can I use this money to get a sugar baby?” Claire frowned slightly. Liam answered: “You can get ten if you want.” My eyes lit up, and I fawned over my brother: “Bro, I’ll take you to party with models! I’ll order ten models for you!” Liam’s eyes lit up too: “Models? Sure. Good brother, you really get me. I’ll order twenty models for you to play with!” My eyes shone like a rural bachelor who hadn’t seen a woman in eight hundred years. Claire facepalmed and grabbed my collar: “Ethan Woods, don’t forget the contract.” Oh right, I signed a three-year sugar baby contract with Claire. It stated that during the period, I couldn’t have inappropriate relationships with other women. The contract still had a week left. I looked down at the fifty million in the card and said with confidence: “Sorry, I’m breaching the contract.” Claire said: “Fine. The penalty is one hundred million.” I panicked and immediately changed my tune: “Sorry, my bad.” Liam frowned slightly and asked me: “What contract?” I stammered. Liam narrowed his eyes, pulled me behind him, and questioned Claire: “Miss Vance, I heard rumors in the circle that you’re keeping my brother?” Claire answered: “I’m not keeping him.” She frowned and asked: “Who told you that?” Liam sneered: “Everyone says so.” He asked: “Then what’s that contract you just mentioned?” I whispered: “Sugar baby contract.” Claire answered: “Dating contract.” Me: “?!!” Claire: “…?” 3 I was shocked!! Claire also paused, then realizing something, she asked me with a dark face: “Sugar baby contract? Who told you that?” I looked confused: “Haven’t you been keeping me for three years?” Claire facepalmed: “No… I didn’t keep you. That was a dating contract.” Liam frowned: “Who signs a contract to date?” Claire: “I thought signing a contract would show how much I value this relationship.” I hesitated: “Your value means transferring fifty thousand a month to me and then sleeping with me?” Claire: “…” Claire’s expression was complicated; she wanted to speak but stopped. Liam looked at Claire with scrutiny: “Miss Vance, sugar baby agreements are illegal and theoretically invalid. If you insist, I’ll have to call the police.” Claire sighed: “I wasn’t keeping him. The fifty thousand was a monthly dating allowance.” She said: “…I thought sexual activity during dating was normal, so I didn’t think much of it.” “Sorry, I didn’t consider it thoroughly enough and caused a misunderstanding. I apologize. That kind of thing should happen after marriage.” The hospital wasn’t a good place for this conversation. Liam adjusted his coat and said to me: “You decide.” I whispered: “Um, since it’s a dating contract, can I take a week off?” The contract had one week left. Taking a week off would seamlessly transition me into partying with models. Claire pursed her lips and answered: “Yes.” After Claire agreed, Liam and I left the hospital and drove his luxury car to see my mom. Liam drove and said: “I think… Claire isn’t trustworthy. She’s not a good person. Don’t contact her anymore.” Damn dating contract, who believes that! I felt guilty: “Actually, I think she’s a good person.” Liam raised an eyebrow: “How so?” Me: “When my mom was sick and we had no money, she paid the medical bills. Without her help, my mom wouldn’t have made it.” Liam: “So she kept you…” I touched my nose, answering awkwardly: “Because she paid my mom’s medical bills, I didn’t refuse when she wanted to keep me.” It was all about repaying a debt of gratitude. Liam thought for a moment and said: “When the contract ends, I’ll give you money to keep her back.” I thought for a moment and said to him: “Bro, is it possible she likes you?” Claire’s white moonlight was my brother, and I was just a substitute. If I kept her, wouldn’t that be weird? Liam slammed on the brakes, and my head hit the dashboard hard. Ouch. Liam stopped the car, expression complicated: “Impossible! Absolutely impossible! You’re wrong.” Me: “She really likes you.” He hesitated and said: “I dated her sister and almost became her brother-in-law. She shouldn’t… be that twisted, right?” My pupils quaked, trembling: “Bro… you…” Liam calmly evaluated: “If she really has feelings for me, she’s a pervert.” I hesitated: “Maybe she really is a pervert?” Liam gasped: “Stay away from perverts!” The car started again. Liam thought for a long time and said faintly: “Actually, I think… that contract might really be a dating contract…” I also said faintly: “Impossible, bro. Absolutely impossible!” The car fell silent; Liam and I were speechless. Liam hesitated: “But still, maybe she has you in her heart?” Me: “Maybe her heart split in two, half loving you, half loving me.” Liam: “Hiss!” 4 The car arrived downstairs at my place. Liam went with me to see my mom, politely called her Mom, and explained the DNA test. Liam: “My grandmother favored boys and was superstitious. She thought twins were bad luck, so when my brother was born, she secretly took him away and abandoned him. “I didn’t know about his existence until half a year ago when Grandma was hospitalized. She confessed it in her delirium. That’s when I knew my brother suffered so much outside because of her.” He recognized my mom as his godmother: “You are Ethan’s mother, and also mine. I will honor you with Ethan in the future.” My mom looked at Liam’s face, identical to mine, and accepted my brother as her godson. After handling things here, Liam took me back to the Thorne family to see my biological parents. Liam comforted me: “Don’t be nervous. Mom and Dad are very nice.” My billionaire parents were indeed nice, as Liam said, and very enthusiastic towards me. Billionaire Dad: “Transferring twenty percent of the company shares to you. The new commercial land development is also yours!” Billionaire Mom: “My precious son suffered outside. Mom is transferring eighty million to your card right now!” When they learned about Claire from the secretary’s report, Billionaire Dad was furious. “She dares to keep you?! “I’ll arrange ten blind dates for you immediately. Dump her!” Billionaire Dad meant what he said. The next day, I was forced to sit in a cafe, having a blind date with ten beautiful women with hot figures and superior backgrounds at a large round table.

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Five years at this company, and my salary is still stuck at $3,800 a month. Everyone calls me a pathetic lapdog, unable to leave my female boss, Claire Chen. I count on my fingers; this is the tenth time I’ve asked for a raise. Her face is still cold, impatient. “How many times have I told you? The company isn’t doing well right now. Can’t we talk about this at the end of the year?” My colleagues whisper about me. “See that? That’s the end of an old lapdog! Even after being treated like this, he still can’t leave Claire.” The next day, a new intern arrived, a returnee from overseas, with a salary of $25,000. On his first day, Claire put him right at my desk. Only then did I realize that my request for a raise had offended her. In a fit of anger, I turned around and jumped to a competitor company as a vice president. I’m done being this old lapdog! 01 “Claire, the contract with Runyuan Company has been signed. I’m asking for a raise!” “Can’t you see I’m busy? Who let you in? Asking for a raise just because you closed one deal? I don’t like employees who bargain!” I forced a smile and repeated it. This was her own promise to me. She said that if I could close this project with Runyuan Company, she would double my salary. Before I could finish, she looked at me with impatience. “Didn’t I tell you? The company is facing the pressure of going public right now. It’s good enough that I haven’t laid anyone off. You should be secretly happy that you still have a job. Where else can you find a good boss like me?” It was the same old rhetoric. I couldn’t help but remind her, “But, boss, my salary has been only $3,800 for all these years…” “I’m giving you $3,800, and you’re still not satisfied? With your work level, who would want you if you left my company? Don’t think that just because you closed a few deals, the company can’t do without you, understand?” Claire waved her hand as if she were shooing away a fly, wanting to end this unpleasant topic as soon as possible. I suppressed my anger and explained, “Claire, I’ve always been grateful to you, but I also need to eat and live. With this salary, I really don’t have enough!” She poked her finger at my forehead in anger. “Jiang Yuan, don’t always think about getting a raise. After so many years, why haven’t I given you a raise? Isn’t it because you haven’t done well enough in some places, and your contribution to the company isn’t big enough?” When Claire said my contribution to the company wasn’t big enough, I couldn’t help but sneer out loud. I’ve been with the company for five years. To close deals, I don’t know how many times I’ve drunk with clients, how many times I’ve drunk until my stomach bled. If it weren’t for that special feeling for Claire, I would have chosen to leave the company long ago. Now, she denied me with a single sentence, which couldn’t help but chill my heart. Seeing me stunned in place, she looked at me impatiently and said, “Alright, I still have things to do. Next month’s salary will increase by $200!” $200? Do you really think I’m a beggar? Back at my desk, several female colleagues started whispering. “I say Jiang Yuan is just a lapdog. Being humiliated by Claire like that, he doesn’t dare to fart.” A girl covered her mouth and laughed. “That’s right. For so many years, he’s been following Claire around like a dog without a mind of his own. Can Claire even look at him? It’s really a toad wanting to eat swan meat. He doesn’t even take a look at himself in the mirror!” I clenched my fists, suppressed my anger, and walked back to my desk quietly. As soon as I got home after work, I received a call from Claire. “Why did you leave after work? We’re about to sign a contract with Shengshi Group. Don’t you know? Have you done the proposal?” “Claire, didn’t you ask Dong Xin to coordinate that proposal? Besides, if I do it now, I’m afraid it will be too late!” Before I could finish, Claire yelled at me. “How many times have I told you to cooperate with Dong Xin? What’s the matter with you? Do you really think my company is a place to loaf around and wait for death?” “Claire, that’s not my duty. Besides, the projects under my command are also rushing to catch up with the schedule. I really don’t have time…” 02 “Jiang Yuan, can’t you stand in my shoes and think about me? I’m tired to death every day. Can’t you be considerate of me?” The sound of men clinking glasses came from Claire’s side. I gritted my teeth, thinking that it wasn’t easy for her, and decided to compromise one more time. So, I kindly reminded her, “Rest early. It’s not good to drink with the opposite sex so late!” Before I finished speaking, Claire yelled violently, “Jiang Yuan, what are you? You’re bossing me around? Let me tell you, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re an old employee, I would have let you leave the company long ago. Do you believe it? If the company leaves you, there are a lot of people better than you waiting to come to my company!” After speaking, she seemed to hang up the phone angrily. I had to believe it. The next day, colleagues whispered that a returnee intern was coming to the company, with a monthly salary of $25,000, which was several times mine. This time, I finally couldn’t help it and barged into her office again. “Claire, a colleague just said that you hired an intern, and his salary is several times mine, right?” I tried my best to make my tone sound natural. Claire snorted coldly and said, “Do I need to report to you when I hire someone? Don’t think that just because you are a veteran of the company, I have to listen to you. Don’t you take a look at yourself in the mirror? You’re almost thirty, and you haven’t achieved anything.” Holding back my anger, my voice trembled uncontrollably, “But why is he only here, with a monthly salary of $25,000, while I only have a monthly salary of $3,800 until now?” She said impatiently, “You don’t even understand this. Gu Yunze is a returnee student, the exact talent our company needs. Which company doesn’t lack such talent now? What do you understand!” I bit my lip and asked softly, “So, is this the reason why you won’t give me a raise?” Claire slapped the table angrily and said, “Jiang Yuan, are you sick? I am the president of the company. What kind of person I want to use has nothing to do with you. If you want to work, work. If you don’t want to work, I don’t welcome you.” I asked with final hope, “Claire, I’m asking for a raise. If it continues like this, I really can’t go on.” Claire sneered, “Do you not understand human language? Starting next month, I’ll give you a raise of $200. Are you deaf? Also, what kind of bullshit is this proposal you wrote? Take it back and rewrite it for me!” She slapped the proposal on my face, and my cheek suddenly hurt from the blow. I knew she was deliberately finding fault, and this proposal was done a few days ago. I went back to the department resentfully. Some colleagues looked up at me, and many people had sarcastic smiles on their lips. 03 Claire’s secretary, Yuan Xiaoling, saw me and said arrogantly, “Jiang Yuan, Claire just told me to arrange a new desk for you immediately.” “Arrange a new desk? Why?” Yuan Xiaoling smiled sinisterly and commanded two colleagues to carry a small table over and place it next to my desk. Where is this a new desk? It’s clearly an intern’s desk. Seeing me silent, Yuan Xiaoling hooked her lips and pouted, “This is the new intern, Gu Yunze. He’s a high-achieving returnee student. Claire wants you to guide him first, and later you will also hand over the work in your hands to him!” I clenched my fists and said unconvinced, “Why should I guide him!” Yuan Xiaoling sneered, “This is Claire’s arrangement. I am just conveying Claire’s words. If you don’t agree, you can get out of our company immediately. I think if you lose your job, you’re afraid you’ll have to beg on the street!” Before the words fell, many colleagues laughed. Yuan Xiaoling had only been here for less than a year, but she liked to take a chicken feather as an order. She was usually bossy to us old employees or liked to report on us behind the leaders’ backs. After Gu Yunze sat down, he said to me unceremoniously, “Your name is Jiang Yuan, right? Follow me and pay attention to work efficiency. You should immediately prepare a material for me to deal with Yunhao Company. I want to connect with them.” “By the way, is it Yunhao Company? I am Gu Yunze. I will follow up on this project in the future. Oh, that Jiang Yuan, is now my follower!” Gu Yunze held his mobile phone and acted like a company boss. He didn’t even know that President Zhou of Yunhao Company hated others to play tricks on him the most. I couldn’t help but smile secretly. Just wait for this project to fail! Gu Yunze started yelling again, “Who is that? Help me pour a glass of water, and that initial design proposal, have you finished it!” I was about to explain when Yuan Xiaoling looked at me nonchalantly and said, “That Jiang Yuan, Claire asked you to go to her office. She has something to tell you!” After speaking, she still looked at me with a gloating expression, while Gu Yunze smiled even more proudly. Sure enough, Claire said with a straight face, throwing the folder on my face, “What’s the matter with you? You are in charge of this project. Now Yunhao Company doesn’t want to cooperate with us. Look at what you’ve done!” 04 Forcing myself to endure the stinging pain on my cheek, I explained, “Claire, this is Gu Yunze’s responsibility!” Claire snorted coldly, “Didn’t I tell you? Let you guide him. How did you guide him? When something goes wrong, you want to shift the responsibility to others. You idiot. Does the company pay you to do stupid things?” I held back my anger and was so angry that I couldn’t say a word. Gu Yunze also scolded from the side, “Claire, this is all his arrangement!” After speaking, Gu Yunze still looked at me with unkind intentions. Claire also stared at me angrily, “Do you have any sense of responsibility? When something goes wrong, you push the blame to the intern. Don’t get paid this month. Gu Yunze has a high academic qualification and good work performance. He is promoted to manager of the marketing department!” Gu Yunze nodded quickly and said, “Thank you, Claire. I will definitely work harder!” Claire nodded with satisfaction, “This is our company’s competent employee, especially some old employees. They should correct their positions. If they don’t work hard every day, I’ll immediately let him pack up and get out!”. After speaking, Claire also looked at me purposefully. A few days later, Gu Yunze threw the project contract with Tenghai Group to me. “You go and connect with Tenghai Group. If this project fails, don’t think about working here!” I sneered, “Manager Gu, you followed up on this project. Now you throw it to me. Why!” Gu Yunze didn’t expect me to say that. He was stunned, and his face suddenly turned ugly. He widened his eyes in disbelief, and his tone was sharp, “I am your leader now. If I ask you to do it, you do it. Do you still want to stay in the company!” Claire appeared behind me and also said impatiently, “If he asks you to do it, you do it. Do I have to arrange you to agree? In the company, Gu Yunze’s words represent my words. Do you not want to work in the company?”. I almost laughed when I heard this. I asked her with a sneer, “Claire, how can such an important thing be given to me? I’m afraid I’m not capable enough to do it well!” Claire didn’t expect me to say that. Her face was distorted with anger. “You are working for the company, not for you to be picky here. If you don’t go, get out immediately!” Seeing me silent, Claire became anxious and immediately changed her words, “Jiang Yuan, you are also an old employee of the company. Don’t you know how difficult it is for me?” “If this contract cannot be signed, how much loss will it bring to our company? You have worked in the company for so many years. Can you think about it for me?” I knew that if I didn’t agree to Claire’s request this time, the company’s capital chain would be broken. I still softened and agreed again.

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The day I was fired, the HR manager, Jen, stopped me at my desk, pointing at my laptop. “That’s company property. Leave it.” I scoffed and slapped a receipt from my drawer onto the desk. “Read it and weep. Thirty-two hundred dollars, in my name.” With that, in front of everyone, I packed it up and walked out. Half an hour later, the police showed up at my door. The company had reported me for theft. I showed them my evidence. The way the cops looked at Jen, you’d think she was a complete idiot. By the next day, the entire tech park knew. My former employer, in a desperate attempt to score a free laptop, had earned itself the title of “Stingiest Company of the Year.” 01 After the police left, a dead silence fell over the office. It was a silence more piercing than any noise, making your eardrums ache. Every pair of eyes was a spotlight fixed on Jen’s face as it cycled through shades of red, green, and finally, a ghostly white. She stood frozen, like a cheap wax figure on the verge of melting. I clutched my cardboard box, which held three years of my life and a $3,200 laptop, and walked step by step through the suffocating air. I didn’t look back. I didn’t say goodbye. The last shred of dignity between me and this company had been pulverized the moment they decided to call the police. The elevator doors slid shut, sealing off the complicated stares behind me. Reflected in the mirrored wall was a woman with black-framed glasses and a blank expression. That was me. Lynn. Back at my rental, I tossed the box in a corner without a second glance. The tension that had held me together finally snapped, and a tidal wave of exhaustion washed over me. I threw myself onto the sofa, not wanting to move, not wanting to think. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from my best friend, asking how I was. I replied, “Job’s gone, don’t worry,” and switched to airplane mode. I needed quiet. I needed to process the sheer absurdity of it all. The next morning, I was woken by my phone vibrating incessantly. I turned off airplane mode, and a hundred messages flooded in. There were cautious condolences from former colleagues. There were links to the office gossip from friends at other companies. Our company’s name, paired with the headline “Called the Cops to Steal a Laptop,” was exploding across the tech park’s internal forums and anonymous message boards. The comment sections were a festival of schadenfreude. “LMAO, Mr. Collins’s cheapness has finally gone viral.” “I feel bad for the HR lady. Her performance review is going to be brutal. Not only did she fail to save the boss money, she got him the headline of the year.” “Don’t feel too bad for her. That HR manager is no saint. They call her ‘Jen the Hatchet-Woman’ for a reason.” “Am I the only one curious about the specs on a $3,200 laptop? That girl is a legend!” I stared at the screen, but the expected rush of vindication never came. Instead, I felt hollow. Almost sad. For a company to become famous this way… how pathetic. And I was the star of this farce. I clicked on a link to an article on the tech park’s news blog. It was a vivid, detailed account of yesterday’s events. My name was omitted, but phrases like “stood up to HR,” “slapped down the receipt,” and “vindicated by the police” had turned me into the campus’s most mysterious new legend. The phone’s glow illuminated my impassive face. I bet Mr. Collins’s office was a lively place right now. Sure enough, that afternoon, a former colleague who was still employed there sent me a secret message. “Lynn, Collins is losing it. He just smashed a mug in his office.” “Jen got screamed at so hard she cried her eyes out.” “He said at the meeting that the fallout from this is too damaging and he refuses to let it go.” I stared at the words, my fingers tapping the screen. “What’s he going to do?” “No idea, but he told Jen to find out who leaked the story. He also said he’s going to teach you a ‘lesson,’ that this kind of insubordination can’t be tolerated.” A lesson? Insubordination? A chill shot up my spine. They made the mistake, they suffered the humiliation, and somehow, I was the one in the wrong. I didn’t reply. Putting down my phone, I opened a job search app and started updating my resume. Whatever happened, life had to go on. I needed a job. I sent my resume to a few companies I’d been interested in for a while. With my portfolio and project experience, getting an interview should have been easy. But the entire afternoon passed in silence. Nothing. Only the cold, automated “Application Submitted” status. A sense of foreboding crept over me. That evening, I opened a recruiting app and saw that for one company I’d applied to just that morning, my status had already changed to “Not a Fit.” That was too fast. Abnormally fast. Normally, it took HR at least a day or two to screen resumes. It felt as if my name had been flagged. As if the moment it appeared, the system automatically rejected it. I turned off my phone, and the room plunged into darkness. The city’s neon glow seeped through the cracks in the curtains, casting a mottled web of light on the ceiling. Mr. Collins’s words, “teach you a lesson,” echoed in my ears. Rage, like a vine growing wild in the dark, coiled tightly around my heart. I understood. The real war was just beginning. 02 The next few days were a bizarre, soul-crushing loop. Apply. Rejected. Apply. Rejected. The headhunters who had once eagerly courted me now seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. Their social media feeds went silent, and my messages were met with a digital void. My meticulously crafted resume had become worthless, tossed into the internet’s trash bin without even earning me a single interview. It was as if the entire industry had slammed its doors in my face. It felt like I was drowning in the deep sea, surrounded by icy water, flailing desperately but unable to reach the surface. The feeling of suffocation was overwhelming. I knew Mr. Collins’s “lesson” had arrived. He was using the network he’d built over a decade to weave a massive, invisible net, intending to blacklist me completely. I wouldn’t accept it. I found a small but promising startup whose work I admired and submitted my application. To my surprise, I got a call for an interview the next day. I walked into their office building feeling like I was on a pilgrimage. The interview went exceptionally well. From the department head to the company partner, everyone seemed genuinely impressed with my skills and past projects. During the final round, the partner closed my resume, looked at me, and his expression turned to one of regret. “Lynn, we are very impressed with your abilities.” “However… we won’t be able to extend you an offer.” My heart plummeted. “May I ask why?” My voice was steady, betraying none of the turmoil inside. The partner hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Your former employer… when we did a background check, we heard some… unfavorable things.” “They said you weren’t trustworthy. That you had professional conduct issues. That you were fired for theft of company property.” A switch flipped in my brain. Blood rushed to my head. So, that was the crime they had pinned on me. How vicious. How precise. For a professional, it was a death sentence. “I suggest,” the partner said, his eyes filled with sympathy, “that you look into this. Clear your name. Otherwise, you’re going to have a very hard time in this industry.” I stood up and gave him a deep bow. “Thank you for telling me.” Walking out of that building, the midday sun was so bright it hurt my eyes. I stood on the bustling street, feeling like a ghost. Rage, humiliation, helplessness… a storm of emotions raged inside me, threatening to tear me apart. Mr. Collins. Jen. You weren’t just trying to block my path. You were trying to destroy me. I pulled out my phone, my fingers white from gripping it so tightly. I called a friend who worked as a recruiter in the industry. “Do me a favor. Ask around. Find out what Mr. Collins at Innovate Solutions has been saying about me lately.” My friend got back to me quickly. The reality was even worse than I’d imagined. In Collins’s telling, I was a malicious, petty employee who had been caught red-handed trying to steal from the company. The laptop was spun as a premeditated act of theft, and the police incident was twisted into a spiteful act of retaliation after I was caught. He even embellished the story, claiming I was a divisive force in the office with a terrible work ethic. “Lynn, that guy is a real piece of work,” my friend fumed over the phone. “He’s trying to bury you.” I hung up, my chest heaving. A peaceful resolution? Not anymore. When I’m backed into a corner with nowhere left to go, I have only two choices: jump, or push them off with me. I went home, drew the curtains, and the world went dark. I sat in the blackness for a long time, until my eyes adjusted to the gloom. Then, I opened my $3,200 laptop. The desktop was a minimalist design I’d created myself. I opened a heavily encrypted folder. Inside was a complete record of my three years at that company. Every instance of overtime, with timestamped screenshots of my clock-ins and clock-outs, accurate to the minute. Audio recordings of every meeting where Mr. Collins made empty promises and gaslit his employees. Every email chain where I was asked to perform tasks far outside my job description. Copies of every unpaid expense report. A detailed breakdown of every withheld bonus. I’m a pack rat by nature, conditioned to save and document everything. I never trusted verbal promises, only what was in black and white. I thought these files would never be needed, that they were just a way to soothe my own anxiety. Now, I saw them for what they were. My only weapons. I sorted the files, meticulously organizing and labeling each one. Every file was a piece of a puzzle. When assembled, they would reveal the ugly, greedy, and cruel reality hiding behind Mr. Collins’s benevolent mask of “family culture.” By the time I was finished, night had fallen again. I stared at the screen, at the dense grid of folders, my gaze cold and resolute. You think you can use your power to define who I am, Collins? I’ll use your own evidence to show the world exactly what you are. You may have started this war. But I will be the one to end it. 03 This wasn’t enough. This evidence could prove Collins was a terrible boss and would give me the upper hand in a labor dispute. But it wouldn’t be enough to destroy the company he was so proud of. It wouldn’t be enough to wash away the filth he’d thrown on my name. I needed a sharper sword. One that could pierce his armor and strike a fatal blow. I thought of someone. Alex. The former god-tier developer from the tech department, a classic tech geek. He’d been fired a month before me. The official reason was “insubordination and refusal to follow management’s direction.” The real reason was laughably absurd. Mr. Collins’s wife had bought a new phone and couldn’t figure out how to transfer her data. Collins had simply ordered Alex to go to his house and do it for her. Alex, who was in the middle of cracking a difficult technical problem, had replied flatly, “I’m not your personal butler, and this is company time.” The next day, Jen called him in for a meeting, and he was out the door. He was one of the few people in the company who had dared to stand up to Collins. I had a feeling he wouldn’t just let it go. I found Alex’s contact info and sent him a message. “You free? We need to talk.” He replied almost instantly. “Always. Send me the address.” We met at a loud barbecue joint. The sizzle of the grill and the roar of the crowd were the perfect cover. Alex looked the same as always: plaid shirt, slightly messy hair, but his eyes were bright. He walked over with two beers and set them on the table. “Heard about what happened. The whole campus is talking about it.” He twisted the cap off one and handed it to me. “Badass.” I clinked my bottle against his and took a long swig of the cold beer. “You too,” I said. Alex laughed, a little self-deprecatingly. “I was just being stubborn. You were actually strategic.” “So what’s the situation now?” he asked. I told him everything: the fruitless job hunt, the smear campaign Collins was running. When I finished, Alex slammed his skewer down on the table. “That old bastard! He’s a real piece of work!” His anger was raw and immediate. I knew I’d found the right person. “I’m not letting this go,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “He wants me dead and buried, professionally. I’m going to make sure he’s the one who goes down first.” Alex’s eyes lit up. It was the excitement of meeting a worthy opponent, the thrill of finding an outlet for his own pent-up rage. “Count me in,” he said without a second’s hesitation. “I’ve been wanting to take him down for a while.” “What do you need me to do?” “I need an opening,” I said. “Something that will cripple him. A labor dispute is just a slap on the wrist for him.” Alex went quiet, turning his beer bottle over in his hands, thinking. The smoky air of the restaurant, thick with the smell of grilled meat, hung around us. After a long moment, he looked up and lowered his voice. “I might… have something.” My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?” “Do you know who makes the core software our company’s business relies on?” I shook my head. I was in marketing; I didn’t know much about the tech side. “It’s the flagship product from Stellar Dynamics. A single commercial license costs one hundred fifty thousand dollars.” “Our company,” Alex said, a cold smile touching his lips, “is using a pirated copy.” I froze. I knew Collins was cheap, but I thought it was limited to nickel-and-diming employee benefits and cutting labor costs. I never imagined he would risk the company’s entire operation on something like this. “How do you know?” I asked. “Because I was the one who had to install and maintain that pirated copy,” Alex said, his voice laced with scorn. “When Collins told me to find a cracked version, I warned him. I told him using it for commercial purposes was a huge risk. If we got caught, the fines would be astronomical.” “Guess what he said?” “‘Risk is just another cost of doing business. We’re a small company; we have to control costs. If nobody talks, who’s going to know?’” “If nobody talks, who’s going to know?” I repeated the words, the irony thick in my throat. “When he fired me, I took some precautions,” Alex leaned closer, his voice even lower. “I backed up everything from my computer. All the server logs showing the use of the pirated software, the internal IP addresses, the specific version information.” “It’s a complete chain of evidence.” “All we have to do is deliver this evidence to the legal department at Stellar Dynamics…” Alex didn’t need to finish. I understood. My breath caught in my chest. This wasn’t a sword. This was a battle-ax. An ax powerful enough to shatter the fortress of Innovate Solutions. “Good,” my voice trembled with excitement. “This is where we start.” In the middle of the noisy restaurant, we clinked our beer bottles together. The sharp sound of glass on glass was like a battle cry. A two-person alliance was forged. 04 Alex and I moved quickly and quietly. We were like spies, communicating only through encrypted channels. He sent me the evidence in a heavily secured email. It was a massive compressed file containing detailed server logs, every startup record of the pirated software, the internal IP addresses that used it, and the specific information of the cracked version. The evidence was more thorough than I could have imagined. Alex, ever the professional, had even timestamped every file in a way that couldn’t be altered, anticipating it might be used in court. Looking at these files, I could picture Collins’s smug face, proud of saving over a hundred grand, completely oblivious to the time bomb a casually dismissed employee had planted for him. My job was to light the fuse. I didn’t go to the police or any government agency. The process would be too slow, and it might tip him off. I wanted Innovate Solutions to be judged by its victim. I spent a full day drafting an anonymous tip, my tone calm to the point of being cruel. I stripped out all emotion and simply laid out the facts: how Innovate Solutions had been using pirated Stellar software for commercial gain for years. I attached Alex’s technical evidence, listing each piece of the chain. At the end of the letter, I wrote: “Your company’s intellectual property is being shamelessly stolen, and the thieves are profiting handsomely from your hard work. As a loyal user of the Stellar software suite, I cannot stand by and let this happen.” I reread it. Every word was coated in ice. Using a newly created, untraceable email address, I sent the letter and its attachments to the public email address of Stellar Dynamics’ legal department. To be absolutely sure, I also burned all the materials onto a disc and mailed it anonymously from a remote postbox to their CEO. Once it was all done, I deleted every trace of the sent files and local copies. As if nothing had happened. All that was left was to wait. Every day of waiting was agony. I refreshed Stellar Dynamics’ website and industry news feeds constantly. Alex was even more on edge than I was, messaging me every hour to see if there was any news. I told him to be patient. A shark always comes when it smells blood in the water. Two weeks later, on a quiet Wednesday afternoon, Alex sent me a photo. It showed several people in black suits, exuding an air of authority, standing at the reception desk of Innovate Solutions. The man in the lead wore a pin on his lapel: the Stellar Dynamics logo. Alex’s text followed: “They’re here.” My heart leaped into my throat. He sent another photo. It was Mr. Collins, face plastered with a sycophantic grin, bowing and scraping as he led the group into a conference room. Alex’s live commentary began. “They just served him with a court investigation order and a letter from their lawyers.” “They’re inspecting the company servers now.” “Collins’s face has gone green.” “The tech department guys were called in. I bet they can’t delete the logs I left behind.” “LOL, Collins is on the phone now, looks like his dog just died.” I watched the messages roll in, my palms sweating. I was nervous, but also morbidly thrilled. An hour later, Alex sent one last message. “Caught red-handed. The lawyer just announced they’re filing a lawsuit against Innovate Solutions. They’re seeking damages of… five hundred thousand dollars.” Five hundred thousand dollars. I let out a long, slow breath. For Innovate Solutions, which was already struggling with cash flow, that amount was a death blow. You tried to save a hundred fifty thousand, Collins. Now you have to pay five hundred thousand. I wonder what your calculating mind thinks of that. That evening, Stellar Dynamics posted an official statement on their blog. The language was severe, explicitly calling out Innovate Solutions for its infringement and declaring they would pursue legal action to the fullest extent. The story blew up. The article’s reach was far wider than the “laptopgate” incident. After all, this involved an industry giant. What was once a local tech park joke had now become a cautionary tale for the entire industry. I could almost hear the sound of the “respectable” reputation Collins had spent years building shatter into a million pieces. It was a crisp, satisfying sound. But this was just the appetizer. The main course was yet to come.

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The night Joseph Merton was crowned the youngest astrophysicist of his generation, he didn’t give an acceptance speech. Instead, he confessed his love to a girl named Clara Leigh. “There are only two constants in my universe,” he said. “Physics, and her.” But for me, the girl in question, the grand declaration barely stirred a ripple in my heart. I booked a flight to another country, planning to never see him again. No one knew that this was my fifth life. It was the fifth time I had heard his confession, and the fourth time I had lived through his betrayal. This time, I decided to push him toward the woman destined to be the true love of his life—the one who wasn’t supposed to appear for another three years. 1 Crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, fractured light across the hall. The red carpet stretched out before me, flanked by opulent bouquets of flowers. At the center of the stage, Joseph’s eyes were shining with an adoration I knew all too well. “Clara,” he began, his voice amplified throughout the grand hall, “the atoms of the universe are never truly destroyed. And we… we will be together for eternity.” The room erupted. Thunderous applause and envious gazes crashed over me in a wave. I forced the corners of my mouth into a smile, but my expression felt like a mask of ice. Across the sea of people, Joseph’s gaze was a tender caress. He grinned and raised his award toward me. “I want to share this honor with you. Not just for this moment, but for the rest of our lives.” He was radiant, a man at the pinnacle of his world. He moved through the clamoring crowd, his eyes locked on mine. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice finally close enough for only me to hear. I flinched, taking an involuntary step back. In my mind, a chorus of ghosts began to speak. The first Joseph: “I’ve fallen in love with her. Clara, thank you for everything.” The second Joseph: “I’m sorry. Ava needs me.” The Joseph standing before me now reached out, pulling me into a hug that felt like a cage. “Marry me,” he whispered against my hair. The third Joseph: He shoved me away, his face a mask of cold fury. “Let’s get a divorce.” A tremor ran through me, and I wrenched myself from his embrace. “If I say yes,” I began, my voice hollow, “you’ll only end up hating me for it.” He mistook my words for a test of his resolve. His gaze burned with intensity. “Clara, for the rest of my life, I will only be captivated by you.” But just a minute ago, in a life that had ended in a sterile hospital room, the fourth Joseph had told me with chilling finality: “Clara, I’m done with you. If there’s a next life, I only want to love Ava.” The people around us began to chant, their voices blurring together. “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” Joseph’s tall frame slowly lowered before me, his left knee touching the ground. “This is the most important question I will ever ask.” He looked nervous, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled out a ring box. “Will you marry me?” “Please, just let me go, will you?” a different Joseph, from a different lifetime, had once begged me. But not yet. We hadn’t reached that point yet, where we would claw at each other like mortal enemies, our faces twisted with hate. Right now, we were still the golden couple, the envy of our circle. Our last breakup deserved to be a clean one. My face was a numb mask as I gave a stiff nod. “I will.” I had answered him with sincerity four times before. I had fought with every fiber of my being to hold onto the genuine love he felt in this exact moment. But every single time, I had failed, my efforts ending in tragedy, only to be reborn at this same starting line. I was tired. I didn’t want to walk that path again. Joseph carefully slid the ring onto my finger, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. A tide of affection rose in his amber eyes. But when he looked up, he met my gaze, and it was the gaze of a complete stranger. The moment our eyes met, his breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. 2 Joseph scrambled to his feet, his hands gripping my shoulders. I kept my head down, a statue of unwilling compliance. Finally, he settled for second best, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. In the car on the way home, he cast a sideways glance at me. “Is my little ostrich still sulking about the pajamas from last night?” The casual intimacy in his voice caught me off guard for a second. In this timeline, at this moment, our biggest fight was over something so trivial. A cool breeze rushed through the half-open window. The silhouettes of trees and guardrails blurred and receded, time rewinding at a dizzying pace. Now I remembered. I had bought a matching set of pink couple’s pajamas, hoping he would wear them with me. He’d refused. Said he hated the color. I had been hurt. It was just for wearing around the house. My frustration wasn’t about the pajamas, but about his unwillingness to bend, even for something so small. Joseph leaned over and wrapped his arms around me. “Babe, that color is just too bright. I wouldn’t feel comfortable. How about we exchange them for black ones? They’re cool, and they’ll make your skin look even paler.” But three years from now, to make Ava Mills happy, he would put on a bright pink Hello Kitty hoodie. “Alright, alright, I’ll wear it for you,” his ghost-voice would say. “Anything for my little princess. But in exchange, tonight…” I clenched my fists, a bitter smile touching my lips. Love could not withstand comparison. The moment you start comparing, you’ve already lost. Utterly and completely. “I’ll return the pajamas,” I said, gently pushing him away. I smoothed the sleeve of my dress, my voice soft. “I’m starting to understand. What you want should always be the priority.” And so now, I would bring Ava to him ahead of schedule. 3 “Let’s visit our old university,” I suggested. Ava was a freshman there right now. Joseph blinked, then a look of relief washed over his face. He gave me a placating smile. “Of course. Whatever my future wife wants.” A faint curve touched my lips, but my eyes were devoid of warmth. The first time, I was the one who met Ava first. She was a new intern at my company, the big boss’s niece. She had a talent for creating chaos. She lost a colleague’s expense report, unilaterally altered a finalized project proposal, and once, while cat-sitting, fed the cat grapes. The cat went into acute kidney failure and didn’t make it. I had complained to Joseph about every single incident. I thought he would share my disdain and keep his distance. Then came the day she borrowed my car to deliver a file and ended up in a fender bender. I was at my wit’s end with her. I asked Joseph to handle the insurance claim and damages. That one time was all it took. They added each other as contacts. In their chat history, she asked him for help fixing her computer, revising her proposals, choosing a topic for her graduation thesis… Their connection grew quietly, nurtured by her constant requests and his need to be needed. And just like that, they drifted together. Sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was I too independent? Was it because I rarely showed vulnerability or asked for help that I pushed him toward Ava, who needed him, who looked up to him, who created messes for him to clean up? I had meticulously avoided every single opportunity for them to meet. But it was as if they were fated, their love an inevitable conclusion. 4 On the main path of the campus, a young Ava Mills walked right into my line of sight, as if summoned. I calmly sent Joseph away on an errand. Then, I walked toward her. This time, I didn’t raise my hand to slap her. Instead, I bumped her shoulder. And then, I stumbled, falling dramatically to the ground. My phone flew from my hand, crashing onto the pavement with a sickening crack. The screen spiderwebbed into a thousand pieces. Ava’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! I was just talking to my friend, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay? I’ll pay for the phone, I’m so, so sorry!” She frantically took all the blame, her panic genuine. Perhaps it was that almost foolish brand of kindness that made Joseph fall for her so completely. A moment later, Joseph was there, his hand enclosing mine. “How could you be so careless?” I watched him like a spectator at a play, my gaze cool and detached. His attention was entirely on me; he hadn’t spared Ava a single glance. But Ava was staring, her eyes fixed on the way he was helping me up. “Who… who are you to her?” she asked abruptly. It was an absurd question. We were wearing matching couple’s watches on our intertwined wrists. But she had to ask, as if she couldn’t accept the obvious answer, clinging to a sliver of hope that she might hear a denial. Joseph, completely focused on me, brushed the dust from my clothes. He replied to her politely, “I’m her fiancé.” A sudden laugh escaped me. “We’re not married yet,” I said, my voice light. Then I turned to the girl. “Sweetheart, if you like him… feel free to shoot your shot.” Ava’s eyes instantly turned red. I couldn’t tell if it was because of Joseph’s answer or my mocking words. She looked down, stammering, “Ma’am, your phone is broken… I just wanted to get his contact info so I can pay you back. Please… don’t get the wrong idea.” Joseph’s brow furrowed. “Clara, what are you talking about? She’s just a kid. It was an accident, and she’s already apologized. How could you say something so flippant and embarrass her?” So soon. The protectiveness was already showing. I raised an eyebrow at him and smiled. “It was just a joke.” He was still displeased. “It was disrespectful. She’s a student. Forget about the payment. I’ll buy you a new phone. Don’t give her a hard time.” I looked down at the tips of my shoes, my voice soft but firm. “Add her, Joseph. Don’t fight destiny.” Ava eagerly held out her phone. “Mr. Merton, I can afford to pay. Just because I’m a student doesn’t mean you should have to cover my mistakes. That would be… bad for my values.” Joseph was silent for a moment. Finally, with the crisp chime of a notification, he added her as a contact. 5 Ava stared at him, her eyes shining with an unconcealable joy. “My name is Ava Mills,” she said, her voice clear and bright, as if making a formal declaration. I placed a hand over my heart. There was no pain. In the past, this scene would have driven me mad. But now, I felt nothing but a profound calm. I could even manage a friendly, easy smile, my eyes curving as I met Joseph’s gaze when he instinctively looked back at me. We went home. Joseph wouldn’t let it go. “Clara, what did you mean by ‘shoot your shot’? Was that really a joke? I still can’t believe you would say something like that to a girl you just met.” A sudden surge of rage washed over me. I swept my arm out, knocking the water glass beside him to the floor. The porcelain shattered, the sound sharp and hopeless, like the final state of our relationship—a complete mess. “Clara, what the hell are you doing?” I flinched, my shoulders hunching reflexively. He had yelled at me like that, with that exact booming volume, so many times before. I was afraid of it. But in the next instant, he was on one knee before me, his hands gently cradling my foot. “Does it hurt?” His thumb carefully wiped away a tiny bead of blood from a small cut. “I just… I feel like you don’t care about me anymore.” He looked up at me, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with a potent mix of pain, regret, and a pleading that was almost desperate. “Don’t punish me by hurting yourself. I can’t take it.” His eyes reddened, and my heart gave a sudden, sharp pang. This. This was why I could never let go. I had tried so many things to save him. In the first life, after discovering his affair, I screamed and cursed him. In the second, I subtly maneuvered to keep him and Ava from ever meeting. In the third, I poked holes in the condoms and got pregnant on purpose. In the fourth, I threw myself in front of him, taking a knife that was meant for him. But none of it worked. He always fell in love with Ava. He grew tired of talking to me. He avoided my touch. In the end, even the sound of my breathing seemed to irritate him. In every life, faced with his disgust, I would fall apart. “Joseph, you promised you would love me forever!” But he would just stare at me, his expression cold as I broke down. “You’re pathetic, Clara. Utterly pathetic.” I would glare at him through tear-swollen eyes and curse him with all the venom I could muster. “Anyone who betrays a heart like mine deserves to die a horrible death!” But the one who died, again and again, was me. First life: suicide by slitting my wrists, driven by depression. Second life: hit by a drunk driver, my mind too clouded with grief to react. Third life: bled out from a miscarriage. Fourth life: died from post-operative complications. My heart clenched, and suddenly the world tilted. I was being lifted into Joseph’s warm embrace. He held me securely, one arm around my back, the other under my knees. My head rested near his neck, just above his heart. He gently placed me on the sofa and retrieved the first-aid kit. He meticulously disinfected the tiny scratch, then lifted my ankle and blew softly on the wound. We were so close. So intimate. And that was why his eventual coldness was so unbearable. His touch was gentle as he carefully applied a cartoon-themed bandage to the cut. “If you’re still angry, just hit me, okay?” He didn’t know yet. Some wounds, the ones etched into your soul, could never be healed by a simple bandage. “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was impulsive. It won’t happen again.” I had already seen the future. I knew this love of his, so intense right now, would evaporate like morning dew. 6 Our wedding date drew closer. The changes in Joseph began to surface, small at first. One morning at breakfast, I stood up to get more coffee. He quickly turned his phone screen off and placed it face down on the table. I had seen this scene four times before. It was painfully familiar. One evening, he abruptly left, claiming he had to work late. At the same time, a new message popped up on his still-logged-in laptop. A message he had just sent: “Don’t be scared. I’m on my way.” The message above it was a voice note from Ava: “Joseph… I think someone is following me…” I calmly began packing away all of my out-of-season clothes and mailed them to my parents’ house. When Joseph returned, he was holding a stuffed animal. He handed it to me, his gesture a little stiff. “Saw this on the way home… thought it was cute… so I bought it.” Like an audience member who already knew the entire plot, I accepted it with a knowing smile. Then, I quietly moved all the gifts I had ever given him into a cardboard box in the corner. A few days later, another request from Ava arrived. “Joseph, there’s this guy who won’t stop harassing me, no matter how many times I turn him down. Could you please, please pretend to be my boyfriend? I thought about it, and you’re the only person I know who could pull it off. You’re so outstanding and impressive, if he sees you, he’ll actually believe me and give up.” Soon after, I saw her post online. “Happily taken. Please keep your distance.” The photo showed her holding a bouquet of flowers, her head resting intimately on Joseph’s shoulder, her smile radiant. I raised an eyebrow and booked a one-way ticket to Norway for myself. Later, on the collar of one of his white dress shirts, I found the faint, tell-tale smudge of red lipstick. I acted as if I hadn’t seen it and tossed the shirt into the laundry. This was child’s play. In previous lives, I had received bed photos from Ava and found her lace panties in the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Those were the kinds of provocations designed to stab you straight through the heart. I didn’t expect the lipstick to be so high-quality that it wouldn’t wash out. Joseph stared at the lingering stain, his expression dark. I quickly tried to cover for him. “Maybe… maybe I smudged it by accident?” “You haven’t even hugged me lately.” His voice was low, heavy with a suppressed accusation. “You’ve been so cold to me.” My face was a blank canvas. I replied with the same practiced excuses he used to give me. “I’ve just been really tired.” “Babe… are you getting cold feet about the wedding?” he asked, his voice laced with anxiety as I stood before the mirror in my wedding dress. He looked at my emotionless reflection, his own face etched with worry. He was about to say more, but his phone rang, shattering the moment. Ava’s tear-choked voice came clearly through the receiver. “Joseph… my roommate and I got into a fight… she accidentally stabbed me…” “The dean wants me to call my parents, but I don’t want them to worry. Can you… can you come and stay with me for a bit?” Joseph’s tension was palpable. “Is it serious?” He hesitated, looking at me. “Clara, I…” On the other end of the line, Ava must have heard my name. “Is… is she there with you? Please, don’t get the wrong idea. I really had no one else to turn to. You’re such a good person, please don’t fight because of me.” Her voice sounded incredibly weak. “Never mind, I’ll just call my parents…” Joseph removed the groom’s boutonnière from his lapel. “I’ll just go check on her. I’ll be back soon. Can you handle things here for a bit?” The ceremony was about to begin, and he was ready to abandon his bride and all our guests to run to another woman’s side. It was my cue to make a graceful exit. To finally let fate have its way. “Okay,” I said, not even looking up. My fingers were already flying across my phone screen, changing my flight to today. “We’ll talk properly later,” he said. “No need.” My voice was too quiet. He was in too much of a hurry. He didn’t hear me, and he didn’t look back. I turned, walked onto the stage, and picked up the microphone. “I’m sorry, everyone. The wedding is cancelled.” I rushed home and packed my few remaining clothes into a suitcase. Then I picked up the cardboard box full of memories. The box went into the dumpster. The suitcase went to the airport. There were no goodbyes. Without a backward glance, I walked down the jet bridge.

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My girlfriend spent her entire life inventing a time machine. Her goal: to travel back in time and win back her first love. I secretly followed her back. I watched her, the woman I had painstakingly taught how to love, hold her first love’s hand and gently say: “I didn’t know how to love before, and I hurt you. But now, I’ve learned.” 1 The day after traveling back, I saw Claire Vance. It was Liam Hayes’s birthday party. She appeared in the private karaoke room holding a handmade cake and a carefully selected gift. Under the soft glow of candlelight, her gaze was focused and affectionate. The romantic atmosphere instantly reached its peak. Everyone gathered around, waiting for Liam to make a wish and blow out the candles. Then they started chanting for the two to kiss. I stood quietly at the outermost edge of the crowd, watching Liam, gift in hand, lean down and kiss Claire on the cheek. My roommate standing next to me introduced her: “That’s Liam’s girlfriend. Isn’t she stunning?” “Not only that, but she’s also incredibly considerate, gentle, and thoughtful. She keeps her distance from other guys. Simply perfect.” I watched in silence as Claire smiled tenderly at Liam. Looking away, I murmured a low response to my friend: “Indeed, mature and reliable. Very good at taking care of people.” After all, that was the result of five years of my time and effort, taught bit by bit. The original Claire wasn’t like this. She had a bad temper, no patience, was impulsive and irritable, grumpy and arrogant. Her relationship with Liam lasted less than two years, ending with Liam venting all his dissatisfaction and falling in love with her friend. Claire wasn’t resigned to this outcome. So she spent years researching and building a time machine. Once she mastered how to love someone—skills I taught her—she didn’t hesitate to leave me behind and travel back to her sophomore year of college, when she and Liam had just started dating. Even though our fifth anniversary was just one day away. But she couldn’t wait. Now, we are strangers who have never met. The protagonist of the birthday party was Liam, so everyone’s conversation revolved around him and Claire. Someone asked him how he found such a perfect girlfriend. Someone asked Claire if she had any friends as beautiful as her. Someone even joked half-seriously: “Ever heard the saying ‘one plants the tree, another enjoys the shade’? Claire is so thoughtful and considerate, I bet an ex-boyfriend taught her well, right?” Hearing this, Claire didn’t get angry. She just smiled faintly, then took Liam’s hand, sounding like a confession and a promise: “No exes. Liam is my first love, and also my…” “Only love.” Of course she has no exes, because I only got together with Claire two years after they broke up. I wasn’t the predecessor; I was the successor. But that didn’t stop her from using all the ways I taught her to love me on Liam. The lights in the room flickered, people moved about, so she never saw me standing in the corner. Until the cake was cut, and Liam was distributing slices while introducing his friends to her. Claire stood in front of me, our eyes met. I don’t know how to describe her expression the moment she saw me. The smile froze on her lips, a flash of inexplicable panic in her eyes, but she quickly composed herself. Then, when Liam introduced me saying, “This is Ethan Wells, my classmate,” she stared at me, lost in thought. I maintained a polite, faint smile, watching Liam tilt his head to look at her, asking with a frown: “What’s wrong? Do you know each other?” Only then did Claire snap back to reality, handing me the slice of cake, speaking coldly and distantly: “Don’t know him.” 2 I sat on a single sofa holding the cake, looking at Claire who had returned to the center of the crowd. Under the flowing lights, she was charming and beautiful, her features exquisite. Indeed, breathtakingly beautiful. Especially her eyes, deep as ink. When she looked at someone seriously and intently, she always appeared innocent and affectionate. So during the five years with her, no matter how angry or sad I was, as long as I saw her face, as long as she looked at me quietly and softly called: “Ethan.” I would immediately surrender and forgive her easily. The small cake in my hand emitted a faint scent of orange blossom. My roommate bit his spoon and mumbled: “Ethan, try it, it’s seriously delicious.” “She put so much heart into it. Great, now I have another standard for finding a girlfriend.” I curled my lips and took a small bite. A very familiar taste. It was what I taught Claire to make. I spent half a month patiently accompanying her to try again and again, meticulously guiding her step by step until she learned. She looked at me seriously then and said: “Ethan, once I learn this, I’ll bake a cake for you personally for every birthday.” She learned it, but never made one for me. Actually, in the trajectory of my previous life, my first meeting with Claire wasn’t at this birthday party. Because I wasn’t actually close with Liam. He invited the whole class to his birthday party. I didn’t plan to go but was dragged along by my roommate to join the fun. So in the previous life, I stayed for a bit, gave my gift and blessings, and left early. Thus, I missed the late-arriving Claire. I only heard my roommates mention her after returning to the dorm that night: “Ethan, you left early and missed seeing Liam’s girlfriend. A total stunner.” “Pity she seemed cold and aloof, looked impatient the whole party.” “Leaving personalities aside, they look good together visually.” I didn’t have much curiosity and was never interested in other people’s business, let alone another guy’s girlfriend. So after listening, I just smiled indifferently and paid no more attention, nor did I ask for her name. It wasn’t until I got together with Claire later and accidentally saw a photo in her study that I realized, she was that beauty I missed seeing back then— Liam’s girlfriend. But I didn’t care. After all, who doesn’t have a past? However, now, we are back in the past. Unlike the previous life, this time, almost everyone was praising Claire. Perhaps because the atmosphere around them was too joyous, the corner I sat in seemed somewhat desolate. With indescribable emotions, I unconsciously drank a few more glasses of fruit wine. In my tipsy daze, I momentarily couldn’t distinguish if the time travel was real or fake. So I got up and went to the terrace to blow in the wind for a long time. When I sobered up and came back, the crowd had dispersed. Fingers on the half-open private room door, I saw Claire squatting in front of Liam, who was drunk on the sofa, holding his hand and speaking gently: “I didn’t know how to love before and hurt you. Now I’ve learned.” I have to admit, Claire, who has extremely high talent in learning, can learn anything she wants. 3 So after that birthday party, I started frequently hearing about everything Claire did for Liam. Like peeling shrimp and picking out fish bones for him at dinners, or hand-making gifts to create little romances. Oh, she occasionally came to accompany Liam to class too. And the intersection between us since traveling back was merely that one time at Liam’s birthday party. Then it was today. My roommate and Liam belonged to the same guitar club and were going on a hiking trip. He begged me to go along and help him take photos. “Bro, please! I love your composition, lighting, and color style. I’ll treat you to a big meal when we get back!” I agreed under his pestering. Then carrying my camera, I followed him to the meeting point and saw Claire accompanying Liam. She wore a black and white sportswear set, standing in the crowd looking up slightly, listening intently to Liam. Perhaps she sensed my gaze lingering on her. Before she turned her head, I calmly looked away. My roommate exaggeratedly introduced my photography skills to his companions: “Ethan Wells, self-taught photography master, superb lighting, top-tier composition.” I was amused by him and spoke politely to the students who laughed: “Just an amateur. If anyone needs photos, I can help.” So for the rest of the trip, people kept exchanging snacks for me to take photos of them. Until Liam pulled Claire over and asked me: “Ethan, can you take one for us too?” I held the camera, smiled and nodded, looking for a suitable angle to aim the lens at them. Just before I could press the shutter, I heard my roommate standing aside ask loudly: “Claire, why aren’t you smiling?” “Look at Ethan here, smile!” I silently waited for the moment Claire showed a stiff smile and quickly snapped a few shots. Later on the bus back, we looked at photos together. After accepting everyone’s polite and cheerful praise, we finally scrolled to the few photos my roommate took of me. Actually, they were quite good, but one shot focused on the face of a passerby walking behind me who accidentally entered the frame. It was a girl in a light blue windbreaker, smiling eyes curved as if greeting someone. Amidst the laughter, someone suddenly pointed at the photo and blurted out: “What’s that saying online? You don’t know each other, but were frozen in the same frame. Maybe in another timeline, you really knew each other!” The smile on my face finally faded completely after hearing his words. He was right. In the previous life, this girl and I did indeed know each other. Her name was Sarah Quinn. My first love. I actually haven’t seen her for a very, very long time. Ever since she died on our second anniversary. It’s just that my life seemed to stop forever on the day she died. Paused, suspended in mid-air. Now time has reversed, and we haven’t met yet. My wandering thoughts were pulled back by a sudden brake. The camera slipped from my hand due to inertia and was deftly caught by Claire diagonally in front of me. After calming down from extreme tension, I was about to ask for it back when I found her frowning and staring at that photo. The next second, my roommate turned to look and his surprised voice rang out unexpectedly: “Claire, she looks a lot like you!” I don’t know what Claire thought of in that moment her fingers suddenly tightened. But she was indeed a substitute. 4 Regarding me getting together with Claire, it was actually her proposal. However, I knew better than anyone that Claire wasn’t Sarah, no matter how much she looked like her. So when we were together, initially I carried some guilt and apology, after all, my purpose was just to see her face. Until I accidentally learned her first love was Liam, and that sentence she said while drunk “I’ll find you when I learn how to love someone,” I belatedly understood what she meant when she asked me “I don’t know how to love, teach me how to love you, okay?” She didn’t love me; we took what we needed. So I began to comfortably treat her as a substitute. I started teaching her the ways Sarah loved me. I finally understood why in most fantasy dramas, after the protagonist’s lover dies, an illusion can trap them. Knowing clearly it’s not the real lover, yet willing to sink. I also clearly realized this was undoubtedly drinking poison to quench thirst. But fate let me see scattered documents in her study when I most wanted to give up, about wormholes, black holes, light speed, about time dilation, time travel. And a sentence that seemed casually written: Travelers can only travel back to their own past bodies. The moment my heart beat accelerated, an incredible guess inexplicably surfaced in my mind. Actually, after being with Claire, my deepest impression of her wasn’t that she couldn’t love, but that she was smart, extremely smart. A wall full of certificates, trophies, and the title of physics genius, all demonstrated her glory and smoothness along the way, and also gave her an uncontrollable arrogance. Not knowing how to lower her head to love someone in a relationship. Until breaking up with Liam. That was probably the only unsolvable problem she faced in her life, so she paranoidly tried every method to get the answer. Then go back to conquer it. Honestly, I didn’t know if Claire’s obsession was the unattainable Liam or her only failure in life, nor did I know if she really wanted to reverse time and travel back as I thought, nor did I know if she could succeed. But, what if? So I pretended not to know anything and continued to be with her, year after year, surpassing the time she was with Liam, and surpassing the time I was with Sarah. Until the day before our fifth anniversary, I called her: “Claire, let’s talk when you come back.” I wanted to break up. Unexpectedly, she was silent for a long time on the other end of the phone, then gently said: “Ethan, I might not be able to spend the fifth anniversary with you…” “I’m sorry.” I frowned and was about to say it didn’t matter, but the phone hung up. Holding the phone, I stood there for a few seconds before suddenly realizing what she meant. Almost without hesitation, I rushed to her laboratory, which was already empty. Then, we turned from lovers into strangers. She handed in a perfect answer sheet, becoming the model girlfriend in everyone’s mouth. I also have the chance to save Sarah and change her doomed ending. Just as I didn’t care about Claire and Liam’s past, she didn’t care who I had been with. So I think, about Sarah being my first love. Claire wouldn’t know. The camera was finally handed back to me. Claire said nothing, just turned her head silently looking out the window. I had no time to care about anything else. My eyes fell on the photo, mind full of Sarah, suddenly realizing something. No matter how much I wanted to maintain the development of the previous life, waiting for the first encounter with her at the mixer, the current trajectory still deviated due to one tiny change after another. Like this photo she entered. Like the next day in the lecture hall, she sat next to me.

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A photo of me and Chloe Thorne went viral overnight. In it, we’re wearing our blue and white school uniforms, standing side-by-side, throwing up peace signs. Attached is a photo of the grade rankings: Chloe is #1, I am #2. A netizen commented: [There’s zero romance in their eyes. Just pure determination to study the other one to death.] I’ve been crushed by Chloe for ten years. I thought I was doomed to be the eternal runner-up. Until one day, I woke up… And realized I’m the villainous male side character in a high school romance novel. And Chloe is the female lead. Realizing this didn’t make me sad at all. I knew my chance had come! I’m going to be number one! 1 I’ve been second to Chloe Thorne for a decade. Every exam, I’m exactly one rank behind her. I am the eternal runner-up on the honor roll. Then one day, while napping on my desk during a break, I gained sentience. I discovered I’m the villainous side character in a YA romance novel. In the story, I wreak havoc to sabotage the romance between the female lead and the male lead, eventually getting myself expelled. The female lead and the transfer student male lead, after “overcoming” the obstacle that is me, successfully get together. However, their grades slip due to dating, and their families force them apart. To save the male lead from his abusive father, the female lead intentionally misses the SATs, repeats a year with him, and they both get into their dream university, living happily ever after. The heroine of this story is Chloe Thorne, the girl who always beats me. After waking up, I sat up straight and glanced at Chloe, who was chatting with the person in front of her in the next row. The world is going to hell. How can this old rival be the heroine? But it doesn’t matter. In the novel, the male lead is supposed to transfer to our class in the next few days. His arrival marks the beginning of my bright future. As long as I refuse to play the villain, I won’t be affected by their plot. I can defeat Chloe and finally become number one! My excitement lasted almost the entire day. Just thinking about my upcoming comeback made it hard to control my facial expressions. That evening, walking home with Chloe, I didn’t bother suppressing my glee. Chloe’s face remained neutral, but she was speed-walking like an Olympian. Our moms are best friends, and we live directly across the street from each other. Before entering her house, she looked at me like I was an idiot, then quickly slammed the door. After dinner, I got a text from my buddy, Mike: “Bro, you’re a legend!” Attached was a link to a video I posted on social media a few days ago when the midterm results came out. The video contained only two images. One was a screenshot of me and Chloe, the other was the midterm ranking list. No caption, but the netizens understood me perfectly. “There’s zero romance in their eyes. Just pure determination to study the other one to death.” “The girl is even holding a pen in the photo.” “When is the guy gonna assassinate the girl to take first place?” I liked the comment about assassination. Soon. 2 The male lead transferred to our class the next day. When he introduced himself as Julian Summerfield, I knew it. He was the one. My dream wasn’t baseless; this was all real. Just like in the novel, Julian was seated next to Chloe. I sat diagonally behind Chloe. A slight turn of my head, and I could see their backs. On the first day, Julian probably hadn’t received his new textbooks yet. Chloe placed her worksheet between their desks so they could share. The math teacher was explaining a crucial concept. Both of them lowered their heads simultaneously to look at the problem. They looked up at the same time, finding their faces inches apart. Realizing the awkwardness, both quickly sat up straight. I couldn’t see their expressions, but I clearly saw Julian awkwardly bring a fist to his mouth and cough lightly. And Chloe’s ears and neck turned bright red. A strange feeling bubbled up inside me. I steadied myself and looked away. This is what I wanted, right? Ethan Vance, stop looking at women! Focus on studying! I took a deep breath and forced my attention to the blackboard. After the first period, several girls gathered around Julian’s desk. I glanced over. Two of them were the “artsy” girls in our class, known for partying and dating around. The male lead is handsome; naturally, he attracted their attention. Suddenly surrounded, Julian looked overwhelmed in his seat. As the class monitor, I was about to go over and maintain order, but I saw Chloe returning from the bathroom and stepping in front of Julian. “Nothing better to do? I just saw Mr. Davis in the lobby, heading this way.” Hearing the homeroom teacher was coming, the girls scattered back to their seats. Julian smiled shyly at Chloe in gratitude. I sheepishly pulled back the leg I was about to step forward with. A moment later, Mr. Davis did appear at the door. But he didn’t come in. Instead, he waved me over to the office to check some files. Standing in the office, mechanically searching through a stack of papers for my classmates’ tests… My mind was filled with the image from earlier: the girl in the blue and white uniform, backlit by the window, shielding the anxious boy behind her. And the boy looking at her with eyes full of gratitude and shyness. That must be what liking someone looks like. Sure enough, the male and female leads are destined to attract each other. It’s only the first day, and they’re already like positive and negative poles, rapidly closing the distance. I looked at the answer sheet I had absentmindedly flipped through and shook my head, trying to shake those unwanted emotions out of my brain. Walking home with Chloe that night, I was unusually silent, contrary to my usual chatterbox self. Surprisingly, Chloe, usually the listener, spoke first. “What’s wrong today? Something on your mind?” I looked up into her confused and concerned eyes. What should I say? That what I’m thinking about has to do with her? Growing up together for over ten years, this was the first time I hesitated to speak to her. After thinking for a while, I could only ask indirectly. “What do you think… of Julian Summerfield?” A flicker of confusion passed through Chloe’s eyes. “Why ask about him?” “Oh, you know, I’m the class monitor. Gotta get to know the classmates, makes communication easier later.” I lied with a laugh, but Chloe nodded understandingly. “Him? He’s nice. A very quiet guy.” It was a neutral comment, but my heart sank inexplicably. Freshman year, our parents suspected us of dating early. We sat between our two dads explaining for nearly an afternoon. But because Chloe said, “How could I like Ethan Vance? If I liked anyone, it would be a quiet guy.” I punched her several times right in front of our parents. That was also when the slight flutter in my adolescent heart for her was strangled in the cradle. My feelings for her were complicated. At least, I couldn’t figure them out myself. We were just childhood friends who grew up bickering. So why am I so sad right now? I didn’t speak again the whole way. She just walked quietly beside me. When we parted ways at our doors, she hesitated, then just said one thing. “See you tomorrow.” 3 Julian successfully integrated into the class. He was beautiful, kind, and had a great personality. Everyone liked him. Even I had to admit, he was a good guy. No wonder Chloe, usually so picky, liked him so much. Without my interference this time, their relationship would probably progress faster. And it did. In just a few days, the way Julian looked at Chloe changed noticeably. Julian wasn’t great at math, so Mr. Davis asked Chloe, his desk mate, to help tutor him. During that time, besides breaks, Chloe would stay late after school to tutor Julian in math. For several days, our walk home changed from the two of us to just me. I tried desperately to ignore the strange feeling in my heart. Studying until midnight every day, waking up at 5:30 AM sharp, washing up, breakfast, school. Being extremely busy seemed to make me forget the loss. Until a week later at dismissal, Chloe rarely rejected Julian’s tutoring request, quickly packed her bag, and ran to me. “Let’s go! Got my allowance today, treating you to hotpot.” I looked at her blankly. “Don’t you need to tutor him today?” Almost the instant the words left my mouth, I regretted it. What does it matter to me what she does? I sounded jealous. But Chloe didn’t mind at all, still smiling at me. “I don’t have to tutor him every day. I taught him what he needed. From now on, I can walk home with you every day again.” Seeing her smiling eyes, I was stunned for a moment. “O-okay. I’m on cleaning duty today, wait for me a sec.” Chloe wordlessly helped me with most of the work, grabbed her bag, and left the classroom with me. On the way, we happily discussed ordering two plates of beef brisket and a plate of shrimp paste. Just out of the school gate, we passed a secluded alley. It was the route Chloe and I took to school every day. Usually quiet. But today, from a distance, I heard voices and a boy crying. Exchanging a glance with Chloe, we simultaneously quickened our pace. At the alley entrance, we saw several hooligans surrounding a boy in our uniform. It was Julian. Seeing them getting handsy, Chloe charged straight in. She grabbed the wrist of a blond punk trying to touch him. “Ah! Hurt! Are you crazy? Let go of me!” Amidst the blond’s wailing, the others quickly surrounded me and Chloe. “Yo, another handsome guy? How about you play with us sisters, and we’ll let you go?” One of them scanned me up and down, whistling flirtatiously. Chloe grabbed her collar and lifted her up. The others moved to help, but I kicked out. To prevent us from being bullied, our parents sent us to learn kickboxing from a young age. We weren’t pros, but dealing with a few punks was more than enough. Soon, we had them on the ground. Except one didn’t fight fair, pulling a knife and slashing my arm. Chloe’s eyes turned red with rage. She picked that person up to punch them again, but I stopped her. That night, accompanied by Chloe and Julian, I went to the hospital to get stitched up. On the way, Julian kept thanking us. He was thanking both of us, but the way he looked at Chloe held something different. Admiration, and worship. In the end, we didn’t get hotpot. The doctor said my wound wasn’t serious but I needed to eat bland food. Chloe and I got home after 8 PM. My mom nagged me for an hour about the wound on my arm. 4 For a while after that, Julian was obviously more attentive to Chloe. When Chloe played basketball, he waited in the crowd to give her water. I don’t know if Chloe accepted it, but everyone could see Julian liked Chloe. Chloe herself didn’t react much to it. I studied desperately, moving only between school and home, squeezing out every second to learn. But sometimes, my brain uncontrollably thought about Chloe. That face, always gentle with me, only frowning even when angry, visited my dreams more and more frequently. Before, I didn’t want to admit it. But now, I clearly realized I really liked Chloe. But she’s the female lead. Destined to be with the male lead. And I’m just the villainous side character. Villains who like the heroine never have a good ending.

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The only condition I set for marrying Harrison Locke, the heir to the Locke Group empire, was that he buy my mother a seven-figure life insurance policy. Beyond that single term, he insisted on keeping our finances strictly split the bill —a bizarre, non-negotiable stipulation for a man with his staggering wealth. We were an agreement, not a couple. We clicked, precisely because we never crossed the line into emotional entanglement. That is, until my mother had a devastating car accident during a torrential storm, and I desperately needed the emergency funds. I worked up the nerve to go to Harry’s office to beg for a loan, but he slammed his hand down on the table, the sound echoing through his pristine executive suite. “Hundreds of thousands, just like that? My money doesn’t just appear out of thin air, Scarlett. We agreed: it’s strictly AA!” Defeated, I raced to the insurance company, only for the representative to inform me, without mercy: “The policy is indeed your mother’s, Mrs. Locke, but she is not the beneficiary.” A cold dread prickled my skin, and I frowned in confusion. I had been there. I’d watched my mother sign the papers myself! The staff member tapped a polished nail against the policy’s beneficiary line. The recipient of the multi-million-dollar payout was clearly listed as Genevieve White. 1 I didn’t even have time to process the shock before the five million dollars in the account was swiftly drained to zero. My final shard of hope was extinguished. I went back to Harry’s company. He was engrossed in a meeting, not even lifting his head. “I forgot to ask earlier,” he said, his voice flat. “What exactly did you need to borrow money for?” Twenty minutes earlier, the hospital had called. My mother was gone. If I had just gotten that insurance money. If his precious childhood sweetheart hadn’t swooped in to empty the account to fund her extravagant shopping spree. Maybe things would have been different. My entire body trembled, and every breath tore through my chest. “Harrison,” I choked out. “We’re getting a divorce.” The words finally got his attention. He looked up, a momentary flicker of surprise in his icy eyes. Meeting his confused gaze, I placed the insurance policy statement squarely on his mahogany desk. A shadow of guilt crossed his face, but he wouldn’t look directly at me. “They must have made a clerical error. Is this really worth threatening divorce over?” I let out a desperate, bitter laugh. He was lying. I’d heard the exchange myself at the insurance company just moments before. The manager had called him. “Mr. Locke, your wife showed up trying to claim the funds. Thankfully, I stalled her in time. Ms. White just completed the transfer.” Harry’s voice, cold and dismissive, had crackled through the phone. “Well done.” “I told you her family were grifters. First, they strong-armed my parents into pushing Scarlett onto me, and now her mother tries to pull an insurance scam. What’s the difference between her and some back-alley fraudster?” “I’m glad I had foresight. I promised Gigi—no matter who I married, my money would only ever go to her.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. I was merely an obligation forced upon him, and my mother was a “scam artist.” This was why, for years, he had guarded his wealth from me like a thief. I would cook a meticulously planned, romantic candlelit dinner, only to have him insist on splitting the bill for the ingredients at the end of the meal. Meanwhile, Genevieve White—Gigi—could casually use his unlimited black card, and I never saw him question a single charge. Suddenly, a wailing sob broke the brittle silence. “Please, don’t fight over me! I shouldn’t have spent your money, Harry. Mrs. Locke, I’ll return everything right now.” Gigi began dramatically ripping off her designer bags and shedding layers of jewelry. A sharp edge of a diamond bracelet grazed my cheek, and a thin line of blood traced its path down my face. Harry didn’t even flinch. He glared down at me, anger radiating off him. “Gigi can spend my money however she likes! I earned it running my company; it has absolutely nothing to do with you!” he roared. “And for God’s sake, there are countless old women trying to pull these stunts. You should check the facts before you come here crying!” He flung the words at me, then spun on his heel, ushering a tearful Gigi into a nearby changing room. The physical sting of the cut on my face was a fraction of the agony in my chest. I withdrew my gaze, picking up my phone and dialing the single hidden contact: Connor. “Help me get out of this,” I whispered into the phone. “I’m ready to fulfill our five-year agreement.” 2 I spent three days weeping through my mother’s memorial service. Harrison spent those same three days commissioning an extravagant, top-tier fireworks display to cheer Gigi up. I posted my grief, a raw, endless stream of memories and pain, on my private social media. He never once looked at it. I used to be like any girl, begging him to just hit ‘like’ on a photo. The response was always a cold, sharp sarcasm. “My time is valuable, Scarlett. It supports an entire company and the Locke name. Can you split the bill for that minute?” Just like when I had swallowed my pride and begged for a loan for my mother’s medical care. I wanted to tell him the terrifying reality of the situation, but his face was an impenetrable mask of annoyance. “Hundreds of thousands, just like that? My money doesn’t just appear out of thin air, Scarlett. We agreed: it’s strictly splitting the bill!” When I tried to speak again, Gigi stepped in, playing the perfect diplomat. “Mrs. Locke, you don’t need an excuse to buy designer bags, but ladies of our stature need to develop good habits! Harry is just looking out for you.” Hearing that, Harry had immediately looked at me with a flash of undisguised disgust, seeing only a greedy social climber. “Stop talking. I have a meeting in five minutes.” That was the moment I ran, grabbing for the final straw—the insurance company. I discovered it was a mere shroud, concealing the ugliest, most rotten part of our marriage. An inexpressible, suffocating ache lodged in my throat. Exhausted, I dragged myself back to the house. Harry had a housekeeper bring me a glass of milk. It was his pathetic attempt at an olive branch. Harry sighed, an air of put-upon martyrdom around him. “Did you really have to disappear for three days over a few hundred thousand? When did you get so childish?” “I finally managed to calm Gigi down. Don’t start another scene.” Holding the warm glass, a wave of coldness washed over my soul. My father had been Harry’s father’s driver. He’d been mortally wounded during an unexpected work accident. On his deathbed, my father entrusted me to the Lockes. I agreed to the marriage, honoring his last wish and sacrificing the path I had already been on. We went from initial sharp-tongued rivalry to what everyone assumed was a slow, enviable development of love. No one knew the truth. Aside from that one insurance policy for my mother, I had never once been interested in Harry’s vast fortune. It wasn’t until Gigi permanently returned to our lives that I truly understood my negligible value to him. If even a single insurance policy—my sole request—was a lie, then what about the rest? What was real? I was too tired to fight. I placed the milk down, the glass clicking softly on the marble counter. “She’d be much happier if you divorced me.” The next second, Harry exploded, slamming his fist on the table, his face a mask of fury. “Scarlett Reed! Your father’s remains had nowhere to go, and I built him a private memorial garden! Your mother was in and out of the hospital, and who do you think was discreetly footing the bills? I haven’t even confronted you about her insurance fraud yet!” “Scarlett, are you brave enough to actually leave?” My heart gave a heavy, painful lurch, and I finally forced myself to tell him the truth. “She’s already…” Before I could finish, his phone shrilled. Gigi’s sickly sweet voice, full of artificial concern, spilled from the speaker. I couldn’t bear to hear it. I turned and retreated to the bedroom to pack my things. That’s when an anonymous number sent two texts: [Harry was desperate to keep me from leaving the country after our last fight. He grabbed the steering wheel from your father, which is why he crashed.] [Why else would anyone build a mausoleum for a low-life driver, or marry a low-born woman like you?] 3 My body froze, my mind a terrible, echoing void. My father’s death was not an accident. It was the collateral damage of their selfish, reckless game. The door swung open behind me. Harry stood in the doorway. I stared into his eyes, my voice a broken rasp. “Did my father’s death have something to do with you?” A tiny, foolish piece of me still hoped. Maybe the text was a cruel prank. Maybe he wasn’t capable of such callousness. But the words he spoke next shattered that last fragile hope. “It was just a fluke accident. I paid a massive settlement, and he’s at peace now.” Boom. The sound was internal, the total collapse of everything I had hoped for. His eyes held no panic, only a faint, condescending sense of beneficence. A simple settlement, casually trading away my father’s life… Harry spoke again, his voice layered with sharp warning. “Don’t you dare bother Gigi with this. Tomorrow is her birthday. Put on something festive.” The next day, running a high fever, I was hauled out like a puppet by Harry and brought to Gigi’s birthday gala. The hot-pink dress he’d chosen for me felt grotesque, a sartorial insult. Gigi, the picture of innocence, wore a breathtaking princess gown on stage while Harry serenaded her with a painfully sincere rendition of her favorite song. Envious murmurs floated around the room. “If Scarlett hadn’t elbowed her way in, those two would be the perfect power couple.” “It’s heartbreaking. Their childhood romance destroyed by a gold-digging interloper. Why is she wearing that grim expression today?” … My heart felt like it was being sliced apart as I listened, while Harry continued his passionate tribute on stage. Then, the massive screen behind him, which had been showing vintage photos, suddenly flickered to black. It came back online, displaying a sequence of Gigi’s private, intimate photos. A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Before anyone could react, Gigi started shrieking and lunged at me. “Mrs. Locke, what did I ever do to you? You’ve destroyed my reputation in all of Manhattan!” I stumbled backward, a bewildered knot forming in my brow. “What are you talking about—” The words died in my throat. She snatched a decorative blade from a table and quickly scored a tiny, theatrical line on her wrist. The scratch was barely three centimeters, yet Harry’s face crumpled in panic. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of icy disappointment. “Scarlett! I told you to leave Gigi alone! Why are you always stirring up drama?” “Apologize to her. Now.” I stood stubbornly still. “I didn’t do anything. I won’t apologize.” Gigi began to sob louder, dropping dramatically to her knees. “Mrs. Locke, I know you hate me. I’ll never bother Harry again. I’ll leave you both in peace!” With a flourish, she scrambled up, dragging her skirt behind her, and ran onto the balcony, a terrifying ten-story drop to the street below. “Gigi, stop! Don’t do anything rash! This isn’t your fault!” Harry was in utter turmoil. He violently grabbed my arm and forced my knees to the floor. I looked up into his crimson, terrified eyes. He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “Apologize. Right now.” “What if I don’t?” Seeing my rigid defiance, a dangerous darkness swirled in his eyes. He slowly pulled out his phone. “I think you remember exactly how you paid for your father’s funeral expenses. Do I need to refresh your memory?” 4 In that instant, my blood ran backward. The night my father died, I had been unable to secure the medical funds, knocking on every door. A low-end fixer—a nightclub owner—found me. His proposition was to talk and drink with his clients. When I refused, they broke my wrist and photographed my degradation. Harry, seeing the chaos, had intervened. He confiscated the pictures and saved me from that hell. I had been naive enough to see him as my savior, my hero. I was wrong. He’d kept the images—every last one—stored on his phone, ready to be weaponized. I stared at the screen, every cell in my body trembling uncontrollably. Harry’s gaze was soft, but his words were utterly venomous. “Don’t make me do this. Just apologize. It’s Gigi’s birthday.” He began to mouth a silent countdown. An overwhelming wave of pure degradation crashed over me. I forced myself to stand and walk to Gigi. “I’m trash. I spread your private photos. I am sorry.” I bowed deeply, a gesture of absolute surrender. Seeing this, Gigi finally smiled in triumph and stepped safely back onto the patio. “But… everyone saw my body. An apology won’t fix how hurt I am…” Harry lovingly tapped her nose. “What will make it better, my little birthday girl?” Gigi didn’t answer. She grabbed Harry’s phone and tapped furiously on the screen for a moment. The next second, the most explicit photo of me was projected onto the colossal screen. I was stripped, immobilized, with someone forcing liquor down my throat. The room erupted in vicious, sneering laughter. “I never thought the supposedly ice-cold Mrs. Locke was this kind of trash! Stripping for anyone, huh?” “Look at that figure! She must be a D-cup. Never could tell under all those clothes.” “I guess she came here tonight to give us a show! Maybe she’ll strip again, ha ha ha!” … Staring at the nightmare on the screen, my tears finally broke. That night was the trauma that I could never, ever forget! “Gigi, delete the photo now!” Harry hesitated for a brief, agonizing moment, then moved to protect Gigi. “She’s just being playful, Scarlett. Don’t make a scene. We’ll handle this after the party.” I lunged, trying to snatch the phone, but Harry shoved me back with brutal force. I lost my footing and tumbled backward, crashing down the ten-step staircase from the stage. In that single, shattering moment, it felt like my internal organs had ruptured. All I could do was watch the humiliating image cycle across the screen. Harry’s absolute indifference shattered the final fragments of my heart. I don’t know when the music stopped. I weakly opened my eyes. Gigi was standing over me, looking down with a vicious, triumphant smirk. “What are you doing…” She tossed the heavy, decorative candelabra in her hand onto the highly flammable stage decorations, watching the flames lick up the fabric. I dragged my useless legs, trying to crawl away. But a colossal decorative pillar, its base already engulfed in flames, swayed, then crashed down onto my body. Harrison, who had casually turned to leave the stage, caught the shockwave of the scene. His heart seized in a sudden, violent terror. “Scarlett is still in there!”

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Famous singer Xander Xi was photographed with a tattoo on his lower abdomen. The media questioned his chaotic personal life and subsequently dug up his bad ex-girlfriend. Fortunately, the picture was blurry, so it couldn’t be seen that it was me. A tattoo is nothing. He still has the piercing I gave him on his chest. It’s just hidden well, so no one found out. 1 I dated Xander Xi for a while. I occupied his wildest days. Unfortunately, he met me during my poorest days. If he used the skills he served me with to hook up with a rich woman, he would definitely become wealthy. I lived a life of drunkenness and dreams with him in a rental apartment for four years. One summer day, hearing the broadcast from the nearby university again, I suddenly woke up. He just graduated and has a very long future ahead. Xander turned over sleepily. One hand pulled me into his arms, the other naturally slipped into my clothes. Usually, this would be another big battle. I was still dizzy from the hangover and didn’t move. Last night he said the audio he recorded went viral online. A talent agency contacted him, hoping to collaborate. I spent all the money in my bank card to buy the best cigarettes and alcohol to congratulate him. Xander doesn’t smoke or drink. Neither do I. But for some reason, I just couldn’t help lighting one after another. Xander was probably scared. He frowned, hugging me carefully. “Do you not want me to sign? If you’re unwilling, I won’t go tomorrow.” I didn’t speak, held his face, and passed the smoke into his mouth. The sweet mint flavor spread, and his eyes widened. He choked badly, and the reaction came strongly too. Young man, full of vigor. The sunlight shone through the curtains, casting a line, a bit dazzling. I stroked his face and looked carefully for a long time. That afternoon when he went to interview with the talent agency, I handled everything. Adults are good at leaving without saying goodbye. In the first three months of leaving, many people messaged me. Saying Xander was looking for me everywhere, asking all old friends. Some even forwarded pictures to me, saying he was partying well, but cried when he smelled someone smoking mint cigarettes. I quietly followed his media account. Rarely released songs, no signing agency. But the popularity still rose day by day. Scrolling every day, I could see enthusiastic new fans showing up in the comments section every day. Praising the distinctiveness of his voice, urging for new songs in various ways. I listened again and again, thinking the praise was right. In the sixth month of separation, I rarely thought of him. But he started appearing more and more in my life. Xander’s songs became popular. No matter which street I walked on, I seemed to hear the familiar voice around the corner. Headache-inducing. Fortunately, friends accepted the news of our separation and stopped mentioning the past to me. But the quiet time didn’t last long. Less than two years later, messages from old friends became dense again. This time, the words carried regret. “If you were still with him, you’d be a somebody now.” “You closed the piercing shop? What are you doing now?” “Seen the hot search? Xander entered the top charts.” Xander signed with the biggest agency, Skyhigh Entertainment, and completed his debut with three hit songs. At that time, I was drawing frantically in my rental apartment. Drafts piled up on the table, all abandoned halfway. Exhausted, I received a sum of money. It was hush money from Skyhigh Entertainment, asking me never to mention my past with Xander. I agreed readily. Involuntarily, I clicked on Xander’s song. Voice is the most primitive spell. Clearly hadn’t seen him for a long time, but that face appeared in my mind uncontrollably. I had inspiration. This tattoo design was what I thought suitable when I first met him. Spent five days refining the design to the end. The client was very satisfied. Said the artist liked the design very much, fitting the music style quite well. Paid double the remuneration. Switching from piercing to tattooing, this was my first step. 2 Relying on this design, I gained fame. Many singers following the trendy hip-hop route came to me for custom tattoos. I made a name for myself. First producing designs online, traveling between cities. Knowing more and more peers, reached cooperation with equally capable tattoo artists. Took over a shop, carried a mortgage. The shop became more and more regular, and the guests received were more and more willing to spend money. I dedicated myself to daily necessities, deliberately forgetting the past. Every night, I thanked the client who commissioned me that day. Until today. Seeing the tattoo on Xander’s waist, I suddenly realized. The design guided by fate returned to its owner at a moment I never imagined. My colleague’s guest hasn’t arrived yet. She scrolled the screen, three trending topics related to Xander. “No response, could Xander still be dating that hoodlum girl?” Jen Yuan said casually, “Dug for so long and only got such blurry pictures, are these music people so tight-lipped?” Logically speaking, having blurry pictures is rare. Skyhigh’s PR and methods of suppressing public opinion have saved countless tainted artists. Many people knew about Xander and me back then, yet not a single revelation till now. I lowered my head, disinfecting instruments. “Unlikely,” I said, “He’s so popular, must have broken up long ago.” “True. Probably reporters are holding clear photos waiting for a price. But he’s not an idol, dating is fine.” Jen slumped back on the sofa and said, “I have a guest later, don’t know if a big influencer or artist, they requested clearing the place.” I responded, “Okay. I’ll leave after cleaning up.” Cleaning is a very mechanical job. The studio has complete disinfection facilities, some work still needs to be done slowly by people. I like doing these things. No brain needed, sufficient excuse to relax my mind. Marketing accounts’ voices never ceased in my ears. I took off my gloves and clicked on Xander’s hot search like possessed. It was a concert video. Water curtain on stage soaked clothes, when Xander raised his hand, the soaked white shirt moved up three inches. Screams were ear-piercing, I turned off the sound. Frame by frame closer, freezing on a dark color on his tough waist. Perfect work. I spaced out for a while, awakened by knocking. Bad. Guest arrived so fast. I put on a mask, hurriedly grabbed my bag to leave. Several bodyguards blocked the way. I sidestepped, apologizing repeatedly. “Sorry, please excuse me.” No one moved. I looked up, slightly stunned. Realizing my eyes were dry, I mocked myself thinking: If I were a K-drama heroine, I should be tearful and speechless now. But I didn’t even have much fluctuation, just my heart beat hard once. Intellect as usual, emotion as usual. Reaction fast enough that even when he reached out to untie my mask, I dodged extremely sensitively. Xander’s hand stopped in mid-air, looking at me with lowered eyelids. Then turned his face away, swallowed. I said, “Long time no…” He bumped straight past me, walking into the studio. Shoulder aching faintly, I silenced for a long time, closed the door. Funny to say, in four years of love, I haven’t seen him throw a tantrum much. Generally such people, I call used to bad luck. Used to bad luck, emotions are stable. But Xander is the opposite. He is smooth enough to make people speechless. Scratching a few lottery tickets casually can win a few hundred bucks. Perhaps the unluckiest thing in his life was meeting me. 3 When we first met, he was about eighteen or nineteen. I opened a piercing shop near the university town in Hancheng District. Storefront not big. Studio outside, bedroom inside. Couldn’t call it a proper job, just muddling along. Not many customers for piercing, most just curious. Hesitating at the door for a long time before daring to come in and ask a few questions. Few came many times, got familiar with me, then gritted teeth and got an ear piercing. Most chatted a few sentences and never came again. Xander was the most exceptional. Summer is rainy. Dark clouds gathered, wind and sand rolled up, rain rustled, smell of dust on the ground. Vision instantly blurred by rain curtain, I estimated no more customers. Just reaching out to pull down the shutter, someone broke in. Wiping face, shaking head vigorously. A beautiful German Shepherd soaked by rain, this was my first impression of him. “Boss Yu.” He accurately called my name, holding up his phone for me to see. “Heard from friends, your place is good.” What exactly was good, I didn’t quite understand. After all, since opening, piercing customers were few, but many came to drink tea and chat with me. “I want to work part-time, do you need people?” His expression was steady, as if he could calmly say okay even if rejected. I smiled, “Sorry, can’t afford employees.” He wiped his face again, water beads rolling down hair to chin. “Then give me a piercing.” I looked up from the book, sweeping over his face. Flat eyebrows sharp eyes, broken hair cut very casually. Maybe because of youth, facial lines still slightly blunt. Not a very well-behaved look, but didn’t have the stray dog temperament of people like us. Not mocking. Those coming to me for piercing, male or female, were always rebellious and seemingly homeless, poor with only freedom left. Xander obviously didn’t belong to this category. “Okay.” I didn’t ask much, “Where do you want it?” He thought for a while, didn’t speak, took off the soaked black T-shirt. I whistled low. Couldn’t tell, playing contrast. I moved my gaze away, trying to look at his face while speaking. “Not everyone is suitable for piercing, need to confirm conditions. If possible, you pick the stud you like.” Talked a lot about precautions. Whatever I said, he just nodded. I sighed, pointing to the bathroom inside. “Forget it, go take a shower first.” Soaking wet, don’t dirty my work bed later. He hesitated, brows furrowed tightly. “Is it inappropriate?” “…” I rubbed my head, “Don’t overthink. Disposable items are inside, go.” Although said so. When he undressed and lay on the work bed, I still overthought. Skin smoked by steam泛ing pink. Exposed to air, uncontrollably tightened. “Piercing here will hurt a lot.” I said, “Newbie, better change a place.” He didn’t speak. Red from neck to face, grabbed a pillow pressing on face. Rain outside heavier. Smashing on shutter door, clattering ceaselessly. I bent down preparing to disinfect, every touch of cotton swab made him tremble three times more. Heat after shower faded, chest gradually turned white. Glaze-like skin color, clean. I moved the pillow on his face away. 4 “Don’t cover face, look at mirror.” I held him down, marking points, “Style and position, you confirm.” He was red-faced, suddenly grabbed my wrist. “You…” He closed eyes tight, “You stay away a bit, I’m ticklish.” I pulled up mask, confirming breath wouldn’t fall on him. He looked briefly, then decided the final effect. When penetrating skin, he suddenly arched his back. I let out the first loud laugh today. Should let the chick see what pain is. “Done, you have one more chance to choose. That side, do or not?” Xander curled up, panting heavily. I patiently changed needle, waited for a long while. He was full of cold sweat, shook head weakly. I was quick-eyed and quick-handed, blocking his hand touching the wound. “Can’t touch, haven’t put on gauze yet. Remember, no water before healing, spray saline frequently. Come to me if problems, I offer after-sales service here.” “After-sales service…?” He opened eyes, breathing rapidly, “What after-sales.” I wanted to laugh thinking what I was going to say. “Of course it is,” I kept a straight face, “Pierce you again.” Xander’s tense waist completely broke. Leaning back on bed, hissing hoarsely. Young man’s redness represents everything. I wrapped gauze while laughing, kindly waived his bill. “Leave when rain stops.” I took off gloves, “Otherwise inflammation when back, pain is killing.” Result rain poured all night. I took out remaining beer and dishes, cooked a hasty meal. Xander clinked glasses with me with pale face, looking like dead. Thought he would come to remove it soon, didn’t expect he really kept it, healed. Because of that stud, he became a regular at my shop. Got familiar, mentioned first meeting. He leaned on recliner watching shop for me, asked me abruptly. “You alone here, won’t it be dangerous?” I buried head in front of computer, answered casually, “Why dangerous?” “Here… many male customers right.” He turned back, “You have no vigilance at all.” Such question usually no one asks. Struggling in society for years, always have some ways. I teased him deliberately. “Doing this line, where are good people?” He took it seriously, pulled my computer chair in front, looked up for a long while. “Earning food with own hands, is good person.” I was speechless. Thought for a long time, had to say: “Indeed students are easy to fool. Go back to school quickly, don’t you have major class in afternoon?” He nodded and left. Not long after turned back, carrying several portions of cut fruits. “Saw on road, quite fresh, you eat.” I paused for a moment, forked a piece of thin cut orange. Refreshing sour taste. Ate all, I pressed chest, felt maybe I was easier to fool. Heartbeat is matter of course. Although only three points. But discovered by Xander, he could climb up, forcing to hand over seven points. Day window paper poked broken, I just advised him not to conflict with people.

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Eight months into Lucas Thorne’s marriage, I got pregnant. But I’m not his wife; I’m just a substitute. The heiress of the Stone family ran away from her wedding, and I, who look 80% like her, was forcibly conscripted to take her place. Mr. Stone promised to give me five million dollars after a year. Now, a tiny problem has arisen. I hurriedly called him: “The person is found, switch back quickly! If we don’t switch now, we won’t be able to!” Without even packing my luggage, I was sent away overnight. Half a month later, I was feeding white pigeons on the streets of Paris, pondering what to do with the baby. Suddenly, I was scooped into someone’s arms. The man gently stroked my cheek, his tone slow: “Wifey, have you played enough? Time to go home.” 1 Being forcibly conscripted to marry Lucas Thorne was an unexpected event. I was buying grilled squid on the street when I was inexplicably grabbed. Burly bodyguards dragged me into a luxury car regardless of my protests. Thirty minutes later, I was delivered to a villa. In the villa’s grand living room, a middle-aged man sat solemnly. As soon as he saw me, he picked up a teacup and threw it at me. His voice was like a bell: “Chloe, do you know the consequences of running away from a wedding? How did I raise such a daughter!” I dodged nimbly, avoiding the attack. The man became even angrier. “Dare to dodge? I raised you for so many years, you made such a big mistake and still dare to dodge?” Me: “Huh?” He grabbed his cane to hit me. I ran around the living room, screaming: “Who is Chloe? Don’t hit me, you caught the wrong person!!” After I pulled up my photos, social media, and digital ID, he finally accepted the fact that I wasn’t his daughter. I was just a passerby who inexplicably looked very similar to his daughter. As an apology, he compensated me with ten thousand dollars. I happily took the ten thousand and prepared to leave. But I heard the man say to me: “Miss Grace, seeing that you need money, I have a deal I want to discuss with you. There will be a heavy reward after it’s done.” One sentence stopped me in my tracks. There was one month left until the wedding. Chloe Stone ran away. If Chloe returns before the wedding, he gives me fifty thousand. If she doesn’t return, I pretend to be his daughter and marry. The term is one year. Whether the person is found or not, I will be given five million. I needed money badly. In a moment of impulse, I agreed. “Wifey, zoning out at a time like this?” Lucas was dissatisfied, biting my lip: “Baby, if you’re not good tonight, do you not want to get out of bed tomorrow?” Me: ! I snapped back from messy memories and quickly said: “No no, I’m super good! I have work tomorrow, please please.” I blinked my eyes pitifully begging him. Lucas tucked my sweaty stray hair behind my ear and leaned down to kiss me. He whispered like a devil: “Too late.” 3 My eyes were dull, staring into the void. Damn it, no one told me before marriage that Chloe’s husband had such a strong desire. Mr. Stone told me his daughter and Lucas had a business marriage. They had only seen each other’s photos and never met. And I look extremely like Chloe. So much so that Mr. Stone didn’t believe it and did a paternity test with me. Unfortunately, we have no blood relation, just pure resemblance. I was heartbroken. The fantasy of being a rich young lady shattered. If I can’t be the young lady, I can be her substitute, equally rich. Chloe couldn’t be found. The meetings, dates, getting the marriage certificate, and the wedding proposed by Lucas were all handled by me, biting the bullet. On the wedding night, I sat in the bridal room wearing a wedding dress worth seven figures waiting for him. He pushed the door open, light and shadow swaying, elongating his shadow. Lucas’s tone was calm: “Miss Stone is nervous?” I swallowed, fingers twisting the wedding dress uneasily: “That, next…” He loosened his tie, stating: “I have normal physiological needs.” I was prepared before substituting; a newlywed couple couldn’t have a sexless marriage. Lucas is very handsome. Figure is also very good. Six foot two, eight-pack abs, 7 inches… Cough cough. Anyway, I’m not losing out. Waking up the next day, I hugged the quilt pondering life. Lucas circled me from behind: “What’s wrong, wifey?” “I didn’t know I was this kind of person before.” His voice carried the huskiness and satisfaction of waking up in the morning: “Hm?” I murmured: “Actually having sex with my husband on the wedding day, how am I so open…” He pressed me back. “The second day is also okay.” At that time, I hadn’t realized something was wrong. Maybe it was the first taste of intimacy, I was also a bit addicted. One day after being lovey-dovey with Lucas for more than half a year, I suddenly woke up. Wrong. I’m not his wife at all. 4 Half a year since the wedding. In the morning, I went to work at the Stone family’s company. Before leaving, Lucas kissed me goodbye. “Wifey, I’ll pick you up today, don’t run around.” I nodded: “Mm-hm.” The first time Lucas came to pick me up, I ran to the snack street to buy grilled squid, chatting with the boss without looking at my phone. When I opened it, I found a pile of calls and texts from him. Wearing a suit incompatible with the snack street, he hugged me in front of the lively stall. He whispered in my ear with a voice only the two of us could hear: “Baby, if there’s a next time, I’ll punish you…” My ears turned red instantly: “Shut up shut up, no dirty talk in public!” He rubbed my head and pinched my ear: “Remember to tell me in advance next time, I worry if I can’t find you.” After that day, Lucas came to pick me up every now and then. I didn’t feel anything wrong either. After work, I drilled into the car, hugging him and kissing. Kissed for a long time and still hadn’t arrived home. I looked out the window and found the road was wrong. “Where are we going?” Lucas supported the back of my head: “You’ll know in a while.” Approaching the destination, Lucas put an eye mask on me. Another five minutes or so passed, he stopped with me. The eye mask was removed. The sunset poured over a garden full of red roses, magnificent and splendid. Behind, someone pushed a birthday cake forward. Amidst cheerful singing, Lucas lowered his head to kiss me. “Chloe, happy birthday.” I wondered why he suddenly brought me here. Turns out it’s Chloe’s birthday. My mood was complicated. Right. The one married to Lucas is Chloe, not me. I’m not his wife. Seeing I didn’t show happiness, Lucas was like a dog who did something wrong, asking nervously: “Don’t like it?” I suppressed the messy thoughts and smiled at him: “Like it.” The substitution period is one year. Now half a year has passed. I always thought there was still half a year, until a month later, Mr. Stone sent me a message. [Found her]

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Matt got into a fight at school. I only realized who the other kid was when I got there: my ex-wife’s daughter. The moment she saw me, the little girl’s eyes went red, but she stood her ground, chin stubborn and head rigid. She wouldn’t speak. My ex-wife stood behind her. Five years. I never thought we’d be able to exchange polite nods, much less in a school principal’s office. Emily’s gaze fell to the healed, jagged scar on my left hand. “Does it still hurt?” she asked, her voice a low, careful whisper. My eyes dropped to her right hand, missing its pinky finger. I smiled the empty smile I’d perfected and replied, “No. I don’t feel a thing anymore.” The principal blinked, a look of profound awkwardness crossing his face. “…You two know each other?” Emily acknowledged it with a quiet nod. My tone was just as flat. “Yes. I’m her ex-husband.” The one she used as a pawn, the one she had locked away in a private asylum, the one whose hand she purposefully maimed. The madman ex-husband. A cold drop of water slid from my hair and trailed down my neck. I’d run so fast I hadn’t even thought to grab an umbrella. The rain outside was coming down in sheets. The principal explained that the fight was over a pencil case, nothing serious. I pulled Matt into my arms, checking quickly for bruises. Only then did my eyes drift to the object on the desk. It was the pencil case I’d bought for him. A simple blue pouch, the same style most kids had. The one difference: I had personally embroidered a tiny rabbit onto the fabric. When I was still living in the house with the Emily’s family—when I was still Aaron—I’d had endless free time, which I used to sew a small rabbit onto every piece of our daughter’s clothing. Daisy, who wasn’t yet three, would always cry and turn away from me, burying her face into her mother’s skirt. Yet here she was now, years later, picking a fight with my son over that very rabbit. I felt a sting of familiar protectiveness for Matt, my son who had suffered this meaningless confrontation. Taking his small hand, I moved toward the door. “Aaron Drew,” Emily called out suddenly, stopping me just before I reached the hallway. “Have dinner with me. Daisy was wrong to hit your son. It’s only reasonable that I pay for the meal.” I didn’t break my stride. I pulled open the heavy office door, my voice cold and distant. “No, thank you, Emily.” The price of her “reasonable gestures” was always too steep for me. First, my heart. Then, my hand. Now, what does she want? I stepped out. From the corner of my eye, I saw the little girl silently wiping away tears, whispering the word “Daddy.” The door clicked shut behind me. The cold air hit my face, a welcome shock. The school was in the suburbs. Getting a ride now would be impossible, and my old moped was soaked through. I looked down at Matt. “Looks like we’re walking home today, buddy.” Matt didn’t mind. He shrugged off his own thin jacket and draped it over my shoulders. We eventually made it to Times Square. On the massive, illuminated screen, a man’s face was being projected on a loop. He was the nation’s current it-model, successful, famous, and married to the brilliant businesswoman, Emily Sterling. They had one adorable daughter. Matt saw the man and hissed out a harsh, “Bad guy.” I smoothed the wrinkle between his brows. “He looks just like me, remember? If you call him a bad guy, aren’t you calling your dad one too?” “No. It’s not the same.” Matt gently traced the grotesque, frightening scar on my left hand. “It’s not the same, Dad. He had surgery to look like you. He stole everything. He deserves to be called a bad person.” My eyelashes fluttered. Since I adopted him, I had never spoken a word about my past. No one knew I was the real Aaron Drew, the eldest son of the Sterling Group founder. And no one knew that the innocent-looking model on the screen was actually Rhodes Vance, a high school dropout who used to fly across the country for a thousand dollars. Matt looked up into my eyes, asking the question he’d held onto for too long. “Dad, why don’t you expose them? The Sterlings have so many enemies. They can’t all tolerate a fraud like Rhodes.” I stood up slowly and continued walking toward the tenement building I called home. Matt didn’t know. The Drew family died out seven years ago. My father, my mother, my sister—even the housekeeper Mrs. Zhang and the groundskeeper Mr. Wallace—they all drowned at sea, picked apart by fish until only brittle bones remained. To pave the way for Rhodes, everyone who could prove my identity was eliminated. After I escaped the basement, I couldn’t even build them a proper tombstone. I could only sneak to the coast and pour out cup after cup of whiskey to the relentless gray waves. By then, Rhodes had been acting as the Drew heir for half a year. He was loud, flashy. Using my identity, he frequented high-end hotels with Emily, and wave after wave of expensive luxury items were delivered to the Drew mansion. He even signed over the company my father had built his life around, handing it all to Emily. The entire internet celebrated their ‘enduring love.’ I was trapped in a cheap rental, unable to sleep night after night. My dreams were saturated with my parents’ bloated faces, their hands reaching out to me for salvation. Seven years ago, I was too young, too impulsive, too reckless. I’d stormed into the acquisition signing ceremony with a hoard of reporters. I was hysterical, screaming and shouting. I tried desperately to prove I was the one true Drew heir. Cameras flashed and bulbs popped. In the blinding light, I saw Emily give a subtle, dismissive smirk. She took a step forward, shielding Rhodes. Her voice cut through the chaos, cold and brutal. “I don’t know this man. My husband is the one I chose, the one I stand by.” Even my one-year-old daughter, Daisy, stood on Rhodes’s side, crying and pushing me away. “Daddy, that man copied your face! I’m scared…” While I stood there, stunned into silence, Rhodes smiled, his face exactly like mine, and swept Daisy into his arms. He had won. He had stolen my daughter, my wife, my entire life, becoming the undisputed heir. And I became the lunatic who tried to steal his identity through plastic surgery. The farce ended with the police hauling me away. In the precinct holding cell, I was manic, screaming over and over that Emily had killed my family and colluded with the imposter to steal my life. No one believes a madman. Especially since a credible police report required evidence, and I had none. I was held for a day. When I walked out, Emily’s sleek sedan was parked outside, a cigarette glowing fiercely between her fingers. “Aaron, you should have figured this out years ago. You can’t stop me from loving who I want.” She exhaled a plume of smoke, then softened her voice. “If you’d been a little smarter, a little more agreeable, I wouldn’t have had Rhodes get the surgery. You’d still be the CEO. You’d still be my husband.” She opened the passenger door. “Get in. Come home with me. You haven’t seen Daisy in six months. Don’t you miss her?” … “Dad, we’re home.” Matt’s voice pulled me out of the suffocating memory. I glanced at the dark, grimy stairwell and walked in, used to the squalor. Compared to my life back then, things were marginally better now. After Emily took me back, I became Rhodes’s permanent understudy. Any corporate dinner he hated, Emily would drag me along to, making me drink with the partners. Any party he found boring, she would bring me to, keeping me by her side as a decorative, silent puppet. During those two years, I tried to tell everyone the truth. The old Sterling board members, the friends I grew up with, the investigative journalism students I knew from college… I sought out anyone I could think of. I cried myself sick, laid out the entire truth, begged them to call the police with me, to tear off Emily’s perfect, deceitful mask. But every one of them looked at me with a strange pity. They didn’t believe me. My countless attempts to resist were simply confirmation of my supposed schizophrenia. My best friend was the one who personally delivered me back to Emily, asking her to get me help and take good care of me. From that day on, my reputation as a madman was sealed. Emily took my hand and slipped my wedding band back onto my finger. She smiled. “Aaron, no one believes you now.” “In this whole world, I’m the only person who knows your grievances and your anger. Now, let’s just have a quiet life. Don’t you want to stop being a madman?” I stared at her blankly. Tears streamed down my face, tasting bitterly of salt. After that, when I wasn’t needed as a stand-in, I was monitored by the staff and confined to the suburban compound. I would stand in the empty backyard, staring vacantly at the sky. And every time, Emily would be away on a trip, “honeymooning” with Rhodes. The private jets carrying them would streak overhead, leaving bright, painful lines across the pale blue canvas. Emily had once asked if I missed Daisy. I hadn’t been able to answer her then. Now, I could give her a clear, solid answer. No. I don’t. I led Matt up the stairs, step by step. The top floor, where the rain always leaked in, was our home. But now, two figures—one tall, one small—were standing outside my door. Emily immediately pinched out her cigarette and crushed it under her heel. She knew I hated the smell of smoke. When we were together, she never cared. Five years later, she suddenly remembered. “Aaron… you’re still living here?” I walked past her without a word. I unlocked the door, walked straight into the kitchen, and started boiling black tea. The apartment was small. With two more people, it would be suffocatingly crowded. Matt stood planted in the doorway, glaring fiercely at the pair outside, refusing to let them enter. His attitude was hostile, his small eyes filled with simmering resentment. I didn’t know how much he understood about my past. I didn’t know how deeply he felt my pain. But I did know that I couldn’t bear to see that much hatred in the eyes of a seven-year-old. I ruffled his hair, handed him the steaming mug of tea, and told him to drink it while it was hot. Then, I looked up at the two people in the hallway, my voice professional and detached. “Emily. Please leave. I won’t pursue this issue regarding your daughter stealing my son’s pencil case. I just need you to manage her and ensure she doesn’t bother us again.” At the phrase “your daughter,” the little girl’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She lowered her head, hoping I wouldn’t see her grief. I saw it. But I tightened my grip on the doorknob, ready to shut the door and send them away. Emily pushed her hand against the frame. Her eyes were fixed on the hideous scar on my left hand. She spoke suddenly. “Aaron, you don’t invite me in because you still hate me?” Hate? Seven years ago, the Aaron who scrambled out of that dark basement hated her more than anything. Two years later, the Aaron whose hand Emily personally mutilated hated her with a blood-red fury. But now, five years had passed. Time had smoothed the sharp edges of everything. The hate, truly, was gone. Emily was nothing more than a stranger to me. Under my placid, indifferent stare, Emily’s eyes slowly filled. She bowed her head, her voice trembling. “Aaron, how can you not hate me?” After escaping the basement, I was Rhodes’s stand-in for two years. I was numb. But Rhodes apparently wasn’t satisfied. He resented that Emily would still bring me gifts after a business trip or sit silently with me on my birthday. After two years, he couldn’t take it anymore. He came to the suburban compound and gleefully told me a cruel truth. He said that when I was locked in the basement, my parents were still alive. It was Rhodes, using my identical face, who had lured them onto a boat and taken them to the international waters. He laughed. “Aaron, you should have seen the look on their faces as they went into the water. It was hilarious. Right up until the very end, they thought you were the one who killed them.” The words hung in the air for a long time before I slowly lifted my head. A dense, sickening pain began to crawl through my dead heart. I remembered learning to ride a bike—my father postponing a critical meeting just to hold the seat and steady me. My mother filming every clumsy second, then scooping me up after I fell, gently inspecting my scrapes. The past flashed before my eyes. I shattered. I grabbed the fruit knife from the counter and lunged at Rhodes like a madman. He was prepared. He ran directly for the door and dove behind Emily, sobbing and shaking as he cried out. “Emily, he’s trying to kill me! D-did I do something wrong?” The bodyguards behind Emily easily intercepted my attack, their eyes cold. “Aaron. Do you want to go back to the hospital?” She had the guards drag me toward my room while she soothed Rhodes. I saw red. I snatched the knife off the floor and swung wildly at Rhodes. Blood splattered across my face. Emily stepped in front of Rhodes, taking the blow. My knife severed her pinky finger. Blood gushed out. I ran. That afternoon, many people saw the Drew heir running through the streets, bloodied and frantic. Afterward, Emily personally checked me into a private psychiatric facility. She was missing a finger, but she also took a knife to my hand, deliberately ruining it. “Aaron, you shouldn’t have run that day,” she said, calm and collected. “People saw two Aaron Drewes—one safe in the hospital with me, the other fleeing hysterically in the street.” “Rhodes can only live because of that face. You don’t need it. Once your hand is healed, I’ll bring you home.” I spent six months in that asylum. I was forced to take medication daily; if I resisted, I was given special “treatments.” My mind was constantly hazy. Emily’s attitude toward me, ironically, softened. I would often lean against her shoulder, staring blankly at the smooth, pale band of skin on my left ring finger. From eighteen to twenty-eight—a decade—that finger had worn the same simple ring. No one knew that Emily was a child I had essentially saved. She was the illegitimate daughter of the Sterling founder, thirteen years old, with nowhere to go. She had come to me, begging for a place to sleep. My mother, seeing her desperation, took her in. She was my companion, the most fiercely loyal person I knew. If someone picked on me, she was the first to fight them, not stopping until they were on their knees, crying for mercy. When I was kidnapped once, she found me, covered in blood, gripping a stained knife, her eyes full of the terror of nearly losing me. When I turned eighteen, she gave me a ring. A commitment, and a tracker. That kidnapping had terrified her so much that she designed it herself. My sister had laughed, patting Emily’s shoulder. “Your possessiveness is intense. Aren’t you afraid my brother will get bored and find a more agreeable girl?” No one knew that lighthearted comment would turn into a curse. The one who grew bored was Emily. The woman who would have died for me became obsessed with a male escort flying across the country for a few hundred dollars. She then used him to destroy my family. I fought her. I screamed, I begged, I tried every strategy I could think of. But Emily neutralized every move with unnerving ease. The pain in my hand was once so profound, so sharp. But as the scar tissue grew, the feeling simply went away. I looked at Emily standing in the rain, my gaze utterly vacant. She had lowered her head, much like her daughter, to hide her tear-filled eyes. I saw them. I just didn’t care. “Emily. Let’s just leave it at this. Whether you regret it or you feel guilty, we can’t go back to what we were.” I kept my hand on the knob, forcing her and Daisy back into the rain. The rain hammered down harder, spotting the walls with fresh mildew. In the kitchen, I could hear the drip, drip, drip of the leak. Matt sweetly handed me a cup of black tea. He looked at the water-streaked walls and let out a happy cheer. “Dad! It’s raining! Does that mean Sloane is coming over?” Sloane was the woman I was seeing—or, the woman I was almost seeing. She was a cold but genuinely good person who always appeared when I was in a crisis, never asking for repayment. Sometimes, when I couldn’t pick up Matt, she would be waiting in her black SUV outside our complex. She was usually quiet and reserved around me, but Matt claimed he’d seen her dressing down a contractor once, so intimidating that no one dared speak. Almost immediately, there was a knock on the door. Sloane had arrived. She was about to step in, just as she always did, when a hand shot out and stopped her. Emily’s face was utterly pale. She pointed at Sloane, her voice incredulous, ragged with shock. “Aaron Drew! Who is she?!”

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