Category: English

I was supposed to be a ghost. The first love, the one enshrined in memory, the wife who died too young. Ten years after the fire, a System brought me back. My mission: to save him, the villain my husband had become. The only problem? I couldn’t remember a thing. Not him, not our life, not even my own name until the System gave it to me. So when I saw him from a distance, a man carved from shadow and ice, I didn’t get close. His security saw to that. As they threw me against the alley wall, the world spitting me out like something bitter, a series of comments flickered into existence before my eyes, a ghostly feed only I could see. 【Here we go again. I’ve lost count of how many have tried to ‘save’ the big bad wolf.】 【For a decade, the System has been terrified he’ll burn the world down. So it keeps sending these candidates, these replacements, to try and pacify him.】 【There have been girls who looked just like his dead wife, girls who had her exact personality, even one who came armed with all of her memories…】 【They all failed. Spectacularly.】 【So this one? This painfully average girl? How many days does she get?】 1 When the System dropped me into this life, the man whose moods dictated the stability of the entire world was thirty-four years old. And he had a son who was nearly ten. I woke from a long, dreamless sleep into a world of total unknowns. All I knew was my name—Nora. I was twenty-three. The System had just informed me of this. Beyond that, it gave me a litany of warnings, a thousand cautions about the man I was supposed to save. It urged me not to end up like the others who came before me, who had their lives extinguished the moment they entered his world. The System told me his name was Damian Shaw, a man who sat at the absolute apex of global wealth and power. He was brutal, vindictive, a caged animal pacing the confines of his own gilded world. The only shred of humanity he had left, it seemed, was reserved for his young son. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long time. “I don’t see anything special in me,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Nothing that would make a man like that even look my way.” The System was silent for a moment. When it spoke again, its tone was heavy with meaning. “You’re the last chance, Nora. If you can’t do this—” It cut itself off, the voice hardening with a strange resolve. “No. You can. You have to.” 2 The System’s warnings were not an exaggeration. The first time I managed to even get a glimpse of Damian Shaw, I was detected almost instantly. He was standing outside the gates of an expensive-looking private school, waiting for his son. He wore a tailored black coat, the collar turned up against the wind, his frame a stark silhouette against the pale afternoon sky. He never once glanced in my direction. I watched the sharp, cold line of his profile, and a strange, uncontrollable emotion bloomed in my chest. It was a grief so sharp, so sudden, it brought tears to my eyes. The feeling stunned me, rooting me to the spot. I didn’t even notice his security approaching until they were on me—two mountains in bespoke suits. A universe of pain erupted as they heaved me into the brick wall of a nearby alley. One of them, his face a mask of professional menace, leaned down. “You don’t look at people you’re not supposed to see,” he growled, the threat hanging in the cold air. He gave my pathetic, crumpled form on the ground a final, dismissive glance. “Next time, it won’t be this simple.” 3 At that exact moment, the sky began to bleed snow. I cradled my throbbing arm, leaning against the cold brick. From the mouth of the alley, I watched Damian greet his son. Even with the boy, his expression didn’t soften. He just stubbed out his cigarette, his movements precise and economical, and reached down to take the small hand offered to him. They turned and walked to a black car waiting at the curb. Maybe my stare was too intense, too desperate. Just before he got in, the boy turned his head and looked directly at me. I must have been a sorry sight, a mess of snow and blood and bruised dignity. And yet, instinctively, I managed a small, gentle smile for this beautiful, serious-looking boy. His gaze was as indifferent as his father’s. His eyes, a deep, quiet gray, assessed me calmly. He only looked for a second. A bodyguard stepped forward, pulling the car door open. It closed with a solid, final thud, sealing them inside. The car pulled away from the curb without a backward glance. 4 My heart plummeted, a sudden, sickening feeling of freefall. Before I could even begin to process the strange tide of emotions washing over me, the white text reappeared, scrolling rapidly in my vision. 【A new player has entered the game.】 【Ten years. I’ve lost count of how many there have been. Dozens? Hundreds?】 【The System is so damn scared of this guy. Terrified he’s gonna have one bad day and just delete the whole world.】 【So it keeps trying to shove people into his life.】 【But Damian only loves his dead wife.】 【That’s why the System keeps sending these ‘substitutes.’】 【Some look like her, some act like her, one even had a complete memory download…】 5 I stared at the frantic stream of text, my brow furrowed. I’d forgotten how to blink. “This guy,” as they called him, had to be Damian Shaw, the man holding the world hostage with his grief. And the failed players… that’s why the System had been so insistent on his danger. It had tried everything. Which begged the question: why did it think I, someone so painfully ordinary, could possibly succeed where all the others had failed? As if reading my mind, the feed’s commentary shifted to me. 【Honestly, though, it’s not some substitute player who’s been keeping him stable all these years.】 【It’s the son his wife left him.】 【She was gone, just like that. Nothing left of her but that boy.】 【That kid is Damian’s only remaining tether to this world.】 【If it weren’t for him, Damian probably would’ve destroyed everything, himself included, years ago. He would have followed his wife into the grave.】 【Which is why every single one of these players has failed.】 【His wife is his ghost, his sacred ground.】 【It’s the one pure thing left in his heart.】 【He will not let anyone defile her memory by wearing her face or claiming her place.】 【That’s why the fakes all die. Each one worse than the last.】 【So what about this one?】 【This plain, unprepared girl with absolutely nothing going for her?】 【How many days do you give her?】 A betting pool started. 【I give her until the next time she meets him.】 【That’s when she dies. I’m in.】 【I’ll take that bet.】 【Same.】 Then, a laughing emoji appeared. 【Dude, she took a pretty nasty fall just now.】 【And it’s snowing. Hard.】 【Who’s to say she even survives the night…?】 6 I lowered my gaze, ignoring the cascade of cruel text. I focused on the bloody scrape on my arm instead. But, to everyone’s surprise, my next interaction with the world of Damian Shaw came not from me, but from his son. He came to me. I have no idea how he found me. I only know that when I opened the door of my room in the cheap motel I could barely afford, he was standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder, alone. He had his father’s face in miniature, the same serious, impassive expression. I froze in the doorway. He tilted his head back slightly to look up at me, his gaze fixed on my face. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice low and clear. It was a strange question. He had sought me out, only to ask who I was. “My name is Nora,” I answered, my voice steady despite my confusion. The instant the name left my lips, his brow tightened into a deep frown. 7 The white text in my vision never stopped. As I spoke, it erupted in a chorus of unified mockery. 【Has the System just given up?】 【It’s tried look-alikes.】 【It’s tried act-alikes.】 【This is the first time it’s been this blatant. Just dropped in a player with the exact same name.】 【The System really isn’t afraid of making him angry, is it?】 【It might as well just gift-wrap her, drop her on his desk, and say: ‘You wanted Nora? Here’s a Nora for you.’】 Unlike the boisterous feed, the boy in front of me was dead serious. “My name is Liam,” he said quietly. His gaze intensified, studying my face, waiting for a reaction I didn’t know how to give. Nora. Liam. His name felt… connected to mine somehow. And combined with what the feed had revealed… Perhaps Damian Shaw’s dead wife, his ghost, was named Nora. 8 But my mind was a perfect, silent blank. I couldn’t give Liam the reaction he was clearly looking for. I had nothing to give. The hopeful intensity in his eyes slowly cooled into a familiar indifference. Just then, a man in a tailored suit came hurrying down the hall from the elevators. He was a head taller than Liam, but he stopped before the boy and bowed his head respectfully. “Young master,” he said, his tone urgent. “The car is waiting downstairs. You’ll be late for school.” Liam’s dark lashes lowered for a moment. It looked like disappointment. He turned to leave, his movements sharp and decisive. But after a single step, he paused. He frowned again, looking not at me, but at the grimy glass of the hallway window opposite my door. “You should get those injuries looked at,” he said. I followed his gaze to the window and saw my reflection. The crude bandages wrapped around my arm and right leg. The System hadn’t given me any advantages, no magical starting funds. The little cash I had was barely enough for this motel room and cheap food. A hospital was a luxury I couldn’t imagine. Liam was already gone. My eyes lingered on the window, on the blurry, distorted image of my own face. 9 There was a mottled scar on my right cheek. The System said I died in a fire ten years ago. It drew its energy from the world it managed, but Damian Shaw was a man who repaid every debt, real or imagined, a thousand times over. His wife had died in an “accident” connected to the world’s original hero and heroine. So he had, without mercy, destroyed everyone involved. That hero and heroine, the world’s designated protagonists, had been dead for five years. With them gone, the world had fallen completely under Damian’s control. The System itself was barely surviving, starved for power. It had only managed to restore my body to about 80% of its original state. I was healthy, but my skin was a roadmap of faded and raised burn scars of varying sizes. I looked at the strange face in the glass. It was a plain face, made ugly by the scar. Choosing me, this version of me, to win over a man like Damian… I couldn’t see a single glimmer of hope. No wonder the feed was filled with nothing but laughter at my expense. 10 Hope or no hope, I still had a mission. I had to win him over. That was the purpose of my resurrection, and the only way I was allowed to keep living. But before I could even think about Damian Shaw, I had to solve the immediate problem of my own survival. After days of searching, I found a job as a night-shift stocker at a bookstore in the lobby of the building directly across from Shaw Corp headquarters. My shift ended at midnight. The tower opposite was still blazing with light. I sat on the steps outside the bookstore, opening a box of cold takeout. At 12:07 AM, Damian’s black Maybach swept past. The tinted windows were impenetrable, a wall of black glass. I knew he was in there. The white text was buzzing with commentary. It seemed they had a better view than I did, a camera inside the car itself, and they used it to continue their running critique of me. 【Looks like the System gave up and now the player has given up, too…】 【Every other candidate who came here was immediately scheming, trying to get in front of him, trying to find an angle.】 【Her? She’s casually getting a job and living her life.】 【Guess that first meeting with his security guards scared her straight, huh?】 【Am I really just supposed to sit here and watch her organize bookshelves every night?】 【If you’re this useless, you shouldn’t have taken the mission from the System in the first place…】 I dropped my gaze, tuning out the hostile words. That’s when I noticed a stray dog, tail wagging hopefully, nosing at my leg. I picked out the only two pieces of meat from my meal and gave them to him. We shared the rest of my cold dinner under the city lights. 11 I worked at the bookstore for nearly a month. My injuries had mostly healed. It was then that I saw Damian again, by accident. It was 11 PM, and my boss asked me to deliver a stack of specially ordered books to an office in the tower across the street. After clearing multiple security checkpoints, I finally set foot inside the monolithic building for the first time. I dropped off the books and was heading back to the elevators. The building was quiet at this hour, most of the floors dark. As I waited, I heard a faint sound from the end of the long, empty corridor. It sounded like someone trying to choke back a cry of extreme pain. The elevator was taking forever. I hesitated, then looked toward the end of the hall. The feed screamed at me not to get involved, to mind my own business. They were even giving me strategic advice: use this chance to sneak down to the parking garage and ambush Damian when he left for the night. But I could still hear that muffled, desperate sound. I stood there for a long moment, then turned and walked toward the sound. 12 I don’t think anyone could have expected who I found. Crouched on the floor of the starkly lit emergency stairwell landing, it was Damian Shaw. He was dressed in a crisp black shirt and trousers, his shoulders broad even when he was curled in on himself. It was a picture of profound, shocking vulnerability. The moment I pushed the heavy door open, his head snapped up. His eyes were alert, sharp with suspicion and pain. Sweat beaded on his temples. I had stumbled into something I was never meant to see. I froze, my hand still on the door. Trapped in his gaze, I forced myself to speak. “…Do you need me to call a doctor?” He just stared at me, his expression cold and unreadable. I instinctively raised a hand to my face, pressing the plain white mask I wore more securely against my skin. Because of the scar, I always wore one in public, afraid of frightening customers or children. The weight of his stare was immense. I wanted to back away, to disappear. But then I saw the vein throbbing at his temple, the bloodless press of his lips, and a strange, unwelcome wave of empathy washed over me. I took a step forward and pulled a small bottle of painkillers from my pocket. I’d never seen a doctor for the injuries his men had given me. When the pain was unbearable, I’d just chewed one of these and waited for it to pass. It seemed the cheap pills I kept in my bag finally had a use. 13 Under his relentless gaze, I placed a single pill on the cool concrete beside him. I turned to leave, but his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. His grip was ice-cold, the chill seeping straight into my bones. I had no choice but to look down at him. Our eyes met, the distance between us suddenly gone. “Who are you?” he finally asked, his voice a raw rasp. The light was dim, but I saw something flicker in the depths of his black eyes, a ghost of a reflection that was there and then gone. He moved too fast for me to react. Before I could protest, his other hand came up and hooked the elastic of my mask, pulling it down. His dark pupils reflected the stark geography of the scar on my face. We were so close. I saw his eyes… tremble. Just for a fraction of a second. This face of mine. It was still a shock. I reached up, pulling the mask back into place. As I did, I saw his hand fall open slightly, as if from a sudden loss of strength. A silver chain spilled from his palm. It was what he had been clutching so tightly. A silver locket. I could just make out the faded, smiling face of a young woman etched onto its surface. I pulled my gaze away. I left the pill and walked away. This time, he didn’t stop me. At the door, I glanced back one last time. He was still sitting there, a figure of absolute black in the sterile white light. A monument to ruin. 14 The white text was criticizing me again. They called me an idiot, hopeless. 【I’m done…】 【She is officially the most useless player I have ever seen.】 【She just stumbled onto a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a total stroke of luck, and she didn’t even know how to use it?】 【She just walked away?】 【Shouldn’t she have stayed? Comforted him? Shown some concern?】 【She finally gets a moment alone with him and she just LEAVES?】 【WHAT IS SHE EVEN DOING?】 Some of them were even more vulgar, suggesting I should have thrown myself into his arms, used the oldest tricks in the book to seduce him. They were convinced I was a lost cause anyway. A person like me could never complete the mission. They were practically begging for me to do something stupid, to provoke Damian and get myself killed so they could move on. They didn’t want to watch my story anymore. If I died, a new, more competent player would take my place. 15 The bookstore owner signed a long-term contract with a client in the Shaw Corp tower. I started volunteering for the delivery runs. Occasionally, I would catch a glimpse of Damian from a distance. He was always in black, not a hint of color on him, save for the occasional flash of a white shirt collar at his throat. He moved with a relentless purpose, a coterie of suited subordinates trailing in his wake, their heads bowed. In public, he was the cold, unapproachable king. There was no trace of the pale, vulnerable man from the stairwell. Sometimes, passing by the break rooms, I’d overhear employees gossiping. They said the terrifying CEO’s office was a black hole of color. No fresh flowers, no art, just oppressive shades of gray and black. The story of Damian’s dead wife was an open secret in the company. Maybe it was because his son was a frequent visitor. Or maybe it was because of the simple, plain wedding band he wore, a ring that was never, ever removed. They whispered that he was living like a monk, that he was keeping himself pure in her memory. I clutched a heavy stack of books to my chest and walked silently through the crowds of bright, successful people. For the first time, I began to seriously question whether agreeing to this mission had been a mistake. 16 I’d been in this world for over two months. Everything I learned pointed to one fact: Damian Shaw had loved his wife with a terrifying, all-consuming devotion. No wonder so many players had come and gone, all of them failures. The chances of my success were zero. Even the white text seemed to have accepted my incompetence. They barely bothered to insult me anymore. It felt like my very existence was a desecration of the love between Damian and his dead wife. I had no past. And it seemed I had no future, either. Should I even continue with this hopeless mission? I was lost in thought, the tall stack of books in my arms obscuring my view. I didn’t see the woman in the crisp white suit, a coffee cup in her hand, until I walked right into her. Coffee splashed across the books and, more damningly, all over the front of her pristine white jacket. I immediately started trying to wipe the books, apologizing profusely. The woman’s voice was sharp. She grabbed my arm. “Who let you in here?” I explained I was from the bookstore downstairs. She let out a cold laugh. “I wasn’t aware this company was in the habit of collaborating with some shabby little bookstore.” 17 More and more people were turning to stare. I kept my head down, repeating my apologies. “Your jacket… I can have it cleaned for you. Or, I can pay for a new one.” “Can you afford it?” she sneered, looking me up and down. Her fingernails were long and sharp. With a flick of her wrist, she hooked my mask and pulled it away from my face. It fluttered to the ground. My face was exposed to everyone. I heard a collective gasp from the onlookers behind me. “You…” The beautiful woman’s voice trailed off, her eyes wide. I closed my eyes for a brief second. Then I bent down, picked up the mask, and put it back on, hiding my shame. “I’m sorry,” I said, bowing my head again. “Whatever you think is fair, I’ll accept it.” The entire floor was silent. And in that silence, an elevator chimed, a crisp, clear ding. The doors slid open. A man stepped out. His tall frame cast a long shadow that fell right at my feet. 18 “I’m the one who signed the contract with their bookstore.” Damian’s voice was low and cool, devoid of any warmth. The moment he spoke, every head in the vicinity bowed. The white text reacted even faster than I did. My vision was flooded, a blizzard of white. This time, the message was simple and uniform. Question marks. A screen full of question marks. 【Did I miss an episode?】 【I’ve been watching this whole time, I haven’t been gone, can someone PLEASE tell me what is happening right now?】 【Damian… bro… why did you suddenly show up?】 【Wait… I’ve had my eyes on this girl 24/7. Is it possible she did something I don’t know about?】 I slowly looked up. Damian’s polished black shoes were stopped right in front of me. A cool touch on my wrist. Damian had taken hold of it. His grip was firm, a silent command that allowed for no resistance. I didn’t dare try to pull away. I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. My hand went limp, and the stack of books I was holding tumbled to the floor. I turned my head and met his gaze. He was looking down, his dark eyes fixed on mine, seeing something deep inside me. But just as I tried to read the emotion there, he subtly shifted his gaze away. “Same as always,” he murmured, his words meant only for me. “No improvement at all.” Despite the criticism, the hand holding my wrist didn’t loosen in the slightest. 19 With Damian’s arrival, the entire situation inverted itself. The System, the feed—they had all described his terrifying nature to me. But this was the first time I had witnessed his cold, absolute power firsthand. He didn’t listen to a single word of the woman’s stammered explanation. He simply raised a hand, a slight, dismissive gesture. Two of his security guards appeared as if from nowhere and dragged the woman away. No one dared to object. No one even dared to look up. The man in front of me was a dangerous enigma. I watched the woman disappear down the hall, then slowly looked up at Damian. A strange, inexplicable smile was playing on his lips. It was directed at me. His thumb began to gently stroke the inside of my wrist. He leaned in slightly. “I just took care of that for you,” he said, his voice a low murmur. He then asked, his tone deceptively casual, “How are you going to thank me?”

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Audrey and I grew up in the same manicured suburban world. She was in love with the boy next door, the polished and polite Ethan. I was in love with the boy downstairs, the cold and commanding Rhys. We were on our own separate, fruitless quests until the day we discovered that both Ethan and Rhys were in love with the new girl, Tessa. I held on for a while, then let go. Audrey, however, said she was going to keep trying. I yelled at her, told her she was a fool, and then, for my own sanity, I left the country for grad school. Seven years later, I flew home. Audrey picked me up from the airport. I smiled and asked her how things were going with Ethan. She took a sip of her wine, paused for a long moment, and then said, very quietly, “Sloane, I’ve decided to give up on Ethan.” 1 Honestly, I never thought I’d hear those words come out of Audrey’s mouth. I can still remember the day Rhys and I imploded. I had pleaded with her, my own heartbreak still raw. “Audrey, just let it go. They’re completely under her spell. In their eyes, Tessa is this delicate, helpless little thing, and we’re the villains.” “It’s just a guy,” I’d pushed. “Come with me. Get out of here. A change of scenery will do you good.” I remember how she just smiled at me. She was beautiful. She’d always been the perfect one—top of our class, homecoming queen, with a personality so genuinely kind it was almost infuriating. I could never understand what kind of spell Tessa had cast on Ethan, what made him choose a girl who was so obviously a pale imitation of what he could have had with Audrey. She shook her head gently. “My feelings for Ethan are about me, Sloane,” she’d said. “They don’t depend on him.” It was the kind of line that would sound cheesy coming from anyone else, but from Audrey, it just made your heart ache for her. I sighed, a mix of frustration and pity. “Fine. Just… try not to regret this later.” After that, I left. Audrey must have known I couldn’t stand to hear their names, because she never mentioned Ethan or Rhys in our calls. But our circle of mutual friends was a tangled web, and gossip was unavoidable. Little pieces of their story found their way to me across the ocean. I heard that Tessa, after stringing both of them along, finally chose Rhys. I heard that Ethan got blackout drunk, and Audrey stayed with him all night. I heard that Audrey followed Ethan to the same university. I heard that Audrey and Ethan were finally together. … Eventually, Ethan posted it on Instagram, making it official. It was a picture of Audrey. They were in a restaurant, the city lights glittering behind them like a thousand tiny stars. She was smiling at the camera, her eyes so full of soft, genuine love it felt like you could feel it through the screen. She was stunning. Their hands were tightly clasped on the table. At the time, I was truly happy for her. She had loved him since we were kids. After all those years, it felt like she had finally earned her happy ending. So I commented with a single word: Congratulations. After that, I got buried in my thesis, and my contact with everyone back home dwindled. Until today. I’m back, Audrey’s here to pick me up, and we’re sitting in a quiet wine bar. I’d asked about her and Ethan. I expected a blush, a happy sigh. I never, ever expected her to be so calm, her voice so light, as she told me, “Sloane, I’ve decided to give up on Ethan.” I stared at her for a second. She was looking down into her glass, her head bowed. The dim, intimate lighting of the bar cast a glow from behind her, obscuring her expression. All I could see was the sweep of her lashes—long, dark, like the fanned wings of a bird about to take flight. Her tone was so casual, as if she were talking about the weather. It took me a moment to find my voice. “But… you’re engaged, aren’t you?” A small, brittle laugh escaped her. Audrey was always so gentle, her interactions with the world were defined by a soft warmth. This was the first time I’d ever seen such a cold, cynical look on her face. She lifted her eyes to meet mine, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “People get divorced, Sloane,” she said, her voice still impossibly light. “An engagement is even easier to walk away from.” I was silent. I didn’t know what to say. Audrey and I were polar opposites. She was the quiet, gentle soul; I was the outspoken, impulsive one. When we were little, our parents used to joke about swapping daughters. My mom wished I had a fraction of Audrey’s grace, and her mom wished she had a spark of my fire. That all stopped after I pinned the neighborhood bully to the ground and made him cry for his mommy. Back then, I was the kid who was always covered in dirt, a little tornado in pigtails. And Audrey would be right there behind me in her pristine dress and patent leather shoes, her hair in a perfect princess braid, quietly holding my backpack. She was my lookout when I was about to pummel some kid for pulling her hair, her voice a tense whisper: “Sloane, a teacher’s coming!” We were inseparable from the first day of kindergarten. Our friendship was ironclad—though it faced its first real test when we hit that awkward, confusing age of first crushes. I was secretly into Rhys, she was secretly into Ethan, and for a horrible few weeks, we each suspected the other was in love with the same boy. Fueled by a diet of 90s teen dramas, we both subscribed to the sacred rule: you don’t go after your best friend’s crush. We danced around it, hiding our feelings awkwardly, until I couldn’t take the tension anymore. I confronted her directly. She refused to say. So I went first. “I like Rhys.” She just blinked at me, her brain trying to catch up. “What? Wait. You like… Rhys?” I narrowed my eyes. “So who do you like?” A blush crept up her neck, and she looked down, mumbling into her chest. “Ethan.” “Ugh,” I groaned. “You like that pretty boy? He’s always got that fake smile plastered on his face. What’s the point of being handsome if you’re that boring?” She shot me a glare, firing right back. “And Rhys? He walks around like everyone owes him money. It’s so childish.” We went back and forth, each defending our chosen champion, until we both just dissolved into laughter. She sighed, a real, happy sigh. “This is great.” And it was. It really was. Back then, liking someone was so simple. I fell for Rhys because the pack of neighborhood kids I’d been terrorizing for years finally decided to stage a coup. They cornered me, ready for revenge, when Rhys, who had just moved in, took them all on, one against ten. He dusted off his hands and sneered, “A bunch of guys ganging up on one girl? Pathetic.” Then he turned to me and held out his hand. “Don’t worry. What’s your name?” I instantly morphed into a timid little lamb, hiding the wiffle ball bat I’d been holding behind my back. “Sloane,” I whispered shyly. He grinned, took my hand, and walked me home. “Cool. I just moved in downstairs. I’ve got your back from now on.” I put on my best damsel-in-distress act and nodded sweetly under my mother’s baffled gaze. Audrey’s crush on Ethan was even simpler. He was a year older, a grade ahead of us. He was brilliant, the one who always gave the student address at school assemblies. Audrey was a straight-A student, too. I figured it was a meeting of the minds, a mutual admiration between honor students. Because we all lived so close, the four of us became a unit. We were the golden kids, the ones everyone knew. On the night of my sixteenth birthday, we celebrated on the beach, and I made a wish with all the sincerity a sixteen-year-old could muster: “I hope the four of us stay like this forever.” A month later, we started our sophomore year of high school and met Tessa. 2 Tessa. The clumsy, quiet work-study student. The first week of school, she managed to spill a cup of scalding hot coffee all over my arm. I hissed, sucking in a sharp breath as the skin instantly blistered. But before I could even react, she was the one who cried out, her face tilted up, eyes already brimming with tears. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” She looked so pathetic that I swallowed the angry words on the tip of my tongue. I just stared at the two huge, angry red welts forming on my skin, the stinging pain making me wince. Rhys, who was beside me, took one look at my arm and then shot her a death glare. “Don’t you have eyes?” he said, his voice dripping with ice. She flinched and stared at the floor, her tears now falling in silent, fat drops onto the linoleum. The sight of it was irritating. “Forget it,” I said. “It’s fine. It was an accident.” That was how we met. To be honest, I never gave Tessa a second thought. We were in the same homeroom, but she had all the presence of a ghost. Northwood Academy was one of two things: a place for the exceptionally brilliant scholarship kids or a playground for the children of the city’s elite. Tessa didn’t seem to fit into the first category, and judging by her worn-out clothes and the perpetual anxiety in her posture, she definitely wasn’t one of the latter. Someone once wondered aloud if maybe her dad was a teacher at the school. No one cared enough to find out. This wasn’t some TV show; the rich kids and the smart kids were too busy competing for Ivy League spots to bother with bullying some nobody. People like Tessa weren’t targeted; they were simply ignored. It’s a cruel kind of reality. She and a quiet, overweight boy sat in the back corner, blending into the wallpaper. The first time I really saw her was when she got into an argument. Her deskmate, the quiet boy, was standing in the aisle after class, blocking the way. The guy behind him, Greg, waited a beat before sighing loudly. “Some people shouldn’t be allowed to block traffic,” he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. Tessa, who was normally silent, shot to her feet. “You can’t talk about people’s bodies like that,” she said, her face bright red. I knew Greg. He was from a wealthy family, arrogant and mouthy, but not malicious. Being called out in public like that wounded his pride. He sneered at Tessa. “Excuse me? He’s been standing there like a statue for five minutes. And you’re his knight in shining armor? How touching.” He smirked. “You two are a perfect match.” Tessa looked like she’d been slapped. She stood there, crimson-faced, unable to form a single comeback. Her deskmate, however, was quick to distance himself. “I don’t even like her,” he mumbled. A few people snickered. Tessa just stood there, mortified. I frowned. Greg was being an asshole, but Tessa jumping in to defend someone who clearly didn’t deserve it was just as stupid. Still, it had gone on long enough. “Greg,” I called out, my voice sharp. “Are you leaving or not? If you’re late for next period, I’m putting your name down for a week of cafeteria duty.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, Madam President. I’m going.” He squeezed past Tessa and her deskmate without another word. Tessa looked over at me. We were too far apart for me to read her expression, but I could feel her eyes on me as she stood there, frozen. I just shrugged and turned away. Behind me, I heard Rhys let out a quiet, dismissive sound. “Idiot.” After that day, Tessa seemed to shrink even further into herself. Every time I look back on this, I want to go back in time and slap some sense into my sixteen-year-old self. Maybe it was pity, or maybe I was just having a moment of profound stupidity. I’m not one to get involved, but I’ve always had what Audrey once called a “misguided sense of heroic compassion.” That year, for our school’s Founders’ Day celebration, every student had to participate in a performance. My grades were average, but I excelled in these kinds of “extracurriculars.” I wrote and directed a one-act play, which conveniently took care of the performance requirement for a dozen of my more introverted classmates. As class president, I was in charge of collecting everyone’s sign-ups. The deadline was approaching, and the only person who hadn’t signed up was Tessa. When I went to her desk, she looked deeply uncomfortable, refusing to meet my eyes as if she were ashamed. I got it immediately. Trying to sound casual, to spare her dignity, I said, “Hey, you know, my play is missing a piece of scenery. A rock. All you have to do is sit on stage. You in?” She gave a small, grateful nod. I never could have imagined that this stupid play, this throwaway role, would be the beginning of everything between her and Rhys. The part of the rock was literally created so she wouldn’t be embarrassed, but she took it so seriously. She’d put on the lumpy, grey costume and lie on the stage, perfectly still for the entire rehearsal. It was, in its own way, very dedicated. Once, after we finished a run-through, she must have gotten a cramp in her leg. She staggered when she tried to stand up. Rhys, without a word, tossed her a bottle of water. “You’re a rock,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s just a rehearsal, you know you can sit down, right? You’re an idiot.” I glanced over at Tessa, surprised. It was an insult, but for Rhys—a guy who wouldn’t waste a single glance on someone he truly thought was stupid—to even speak to her, let alone give her water, was something else. It was almost… concerned. I’d already told her twice that she didn’t need to be so method about it, that she just needed to be still on the actual performance night. But she insisted on being the most professional rock she could be. She reacted to Rhys’s comment the same way. She picked up the water bottle he’d thrown, her face flushing as she mumbled, “I… I didn’t want to mess up the rehearsal for everyone. It’s better to be… professional.” Rhys didn’t say anything else. On the night of the performance, during a scene between me and Rhys, he missed his mark and accidentally stepped on her hand. I heard her let out a tiny, sharp hiss of pain, but she didn’t move a muscle. For the rest of the play, Rhys was off. Distracted. His mind was somewhere else entirely. After the show, I had to stay for the closing ceremonies. By the time I made it backstage, the area was mostly empty. And in a deserted corner, I saw them. The tall, handsome boy standing over the small, timid girl. He was frowning, his voice impatient but somehow soft. “Let me see your hand.” Tessa shyly held it out. Rhys gently, carefully, placed a bandage over her knuckles. He smoothed it down, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Idiot,” he muttered again, so quietly it was almost a whisper. And Tessa, sitting before him, looked up at him through her lashes and gave him a small, adoring, grateful smile. I stood there, hidden by the shadows in the wings, and just stared.

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During the divorce, my soon-to-be ex-husband decided to fight me for custody of our son. He said it with the kind of smug confidence that made my teeth ache. “Why don’t we just ask him what he wants?” Alex, clutching his phone, gave me a calm, appraising look from across the living room. “You guys are really doing this?” “Yes,” I nodded, my throat tight. “Fine,” he said, his eyes dropping back to the game on his screen. “I’ll go with Mom. And you should probably give her a bigger settlement. Otherwise, I’m not sure she can afford me.” 1 A moment later, Alex was dragged into the study by his father. My heart hammered against my ribs. I started to follow, but the door slammed shut in my face with a deafening crack. Mark’s furious voice seeped through the wood. “Alex, I’m going to ask you one more time. You’re sure you want to go with your mother? Don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s a housewife. Do you honestly think she knows how to take care of you?” Alex’s voice, in contrast, was infuriatingly casual. “Dad, it doesn’t really matter to me who I live with. The thing is, Nicole is pregnant with my new little brother. If I stick around, I’m just worried I’ll stress her out.” The mention of his own ugly secret, laid bare by his son, seemed to silence even a man as shameless as Mark. The voices inside dropped to a low murmur. I couldn’t make out the words anymore. All I could feel was a damp heat spreading across my cheeks. I swiped at my face, but the tears just came faster, blurring the expensive, sterile living room I had decorated. I sank onto the sofa, the plush cushions offering no comfort, and finally buried my face in my hands. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, the study door opened again. Mark walked over and stood before me. Seeing me hunched over, sobbing, a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe guilt—crossed his face. He offered me a tissue from the box on the coffee table. “Alex can stay with you,” he said softly. I lifted my tear-streaked face to look at him. “You can have the house, the car, and I’ll give you five hundred thousand. If you agree to that, we can go to the courthouse and file the papers tomorrow.” I stared at him, numb. I was the one who had screamed for a divorce, but now that it was here, I had no idea how to navigate it. I felt utterly lost. “She probably shouldn’t get the car,” Alex said suddenly, emerging from the study. A bitter smile touched my lips. Of course. Blood is thicker than water. In the end, he would always side with his father. “Mom’s driving?” Alex continued, a smirk in his voice. “Let’s be real. It’s a waste if she doesn’t drive it, and a public menace if she does. Better to just cash it out. That SUV is worth at least seventy, eighty grand. Let’s call it an even million for the house and assets. I think that’s more than fair.” Mark’s gaze on his son was heavy, intense. Alex just shrugged, completely unbothered. Mark looked away. “Fine. We’ll do it that way. I’ll see you at the courthouse at nine tomorrow morning.” 2 The front door clicked shut. With that sound, a part of my heart seemed to shrivel and die. Mark was walking out that door, and this time, he might never come back. We’d met in college. Our love had been the young, earnest kind—the kind you believe is pure and indestructible. I truly thought we would grow old together. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it all started to fracture, how we ended up in this wasteland. “Mom.” Alex’s voice pulled me from my spiral of grief. “I’m starving. Did you make dinner?” I scrambled to my feet, wiping the last of the tears from my face. “I’ll go to the grocery store right now.” A note of theatrical complaint entered his tone. “Mom, you’re about to be a millionaire. Can’t you at least spring for some BBQ?” I took Alex to the smokehouse restaurant downstairs. He expertly wrapped a piece of glistening brisket in a lettuce leaf and handed it to me. “Mom, this is an all-you-can-eat buffet. You gotta eat more to get your money’s worth.” “Oh. Right,” I said, taking it from him. It tasted like ash in my mouth, and I could barely swallow. My mind drifted to all the articles I’d read online, the ones about how divorce psychologically scars children for life. I chose my words carefully. “Son, even though your father and I are getting a divorce, he’s still your dad. It’s okay for me to hate him, but you don’t have to.” “I don’t hate him,” he said, flipping a chicken wing on the grill. “And you should stop, too. Hating someone is exhausting.” He sat across from me, his face partially obscured by the rising steam, and for a moment, I felt like I couldn’t see my son at all. 3 The next morning, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring into space, when a knock came at my door. “Mom, it’s time. Let’s go.” I jolted, pulled back to reality. Why did he seem even more eager for this divorce than his father? I opened the door and looked at him, a suspicion blooming in my chest. “Why aren’t you getting ready for school?” He gave me a complicated look. “Mom, it’s July first. Summer vacation started.” I had been in such a fog for the past month that I had completely forgotten. A wave of guilt washed over me, and I reached out to straighten the collar of his shirt. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.” He tilted his head and smiled. “If you really feel guilty, you can take me on a trip. We could go to the beach. Scuba diving, fresh seafood… the works.” He made a “V” for victory sign with his fingers. “Deal,” I said, a real smile finally breaking through. The heavy gloom in my heart seemed to lift, just a little. Nicole came with Mark to the courthouse. We weren’t even officially divorced, and she was already so impatient to claim her new role. Alex greeted her without missing a beat. “Hey, Nicole. It’s pretty hot for you to be running around like this. You should be careful you don’t melt my little brother.” “You—” Nicole shot him a glare, turning to Mark for backup. Alex quickly feigned innocence. “Dad, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a hundred degrees out here. I’m genuinely worried about the baby.” Mark’s face was a stony mask. He turned to Nicole. “Why don’t you wait in the car? There’s no need for you to come inside.” 4 We submitted the divorce application. Next came the mandatory one-month cooling-off period. As we left the courthouse, Mark pulled up to the curb and called out to us. “Let me give you a ride home.” I was about to refuse, but Alex darted forward and yanked open the car door. “Come on, Mom. I’m dying out here.” I had no choice but to get in. We sat in the back, while Nicole occupied her new place in the passenger seat. She tugged on Mark’s arm, her voice dripping with sugar. “Honey, where should we go to celebrate later?” Alex leaned forward between the front seats. “Hey, Nicole, you guys should go to Giovanni’s. Dad loves that place. He used to take Mom and me there anytime we had something to celebrate.” In the rearview mirror, I saw Nicole’s face fall. It wasn’t very charitable of me, but I felt a small, sharp thrill of satisfaction. Alex leaned back, but he wasn’t done. “So, Mom, where should we go for our trip? Maybe not the beach. How about New Orleans? They say it’s the place to go for a whirlwind romance. Who knows, maybe I can find myself a new dad.” Mark’s expression soured. “You’re planning a trip?” he asked, his eyes finding mine in the mirror. “Yes,” I said, not wanting to talk to him. I turned to look out the window. “A change of scenery would probably do you good,” he said, as if to himself. “But New Orleans is overrated. You should go to the Florida Keys. I have a friend who just opened a hotel in Islamorada.” Alex popped his head forward again. “Seriously, Dad? Think he’d give us a friends-and-family rate? With our resemblance, your buddy would probably recognize me on sight, right?” Mark actually smiled, taking a hand off the wheel to ruffle Alex’s hair. “You’re my son. Of course, it’s not a problem.” The two of them shared a warm father-son moment, completely oblivious to Nicole, whose face was now as dark as a thundercloud. 5 In the end, Alex and I went to the Keys. As he put it, “Never turn down a freebie. It’s just bad manners.” He was buzzing with excitement, having prepared a three-page, color-coded itinerary. Not wanting to be the mom who ruins all the fun, I forced myself to match his energy. A thirteen-year-old boy runs on a limitless supply of it. I spent my days parasailing, jet-skiing, and snorkeling with him, and my nights combing the beach for ghost crabs under the moonlight. By the end of each day, my body ached so much I felt like my bones were about to fall apart. I would collapse into bed and fall asleep instantly, too exhausted to even feel the sting of my broken marriage. When we got back from Florida, I was hoping for a few days of rest. But Alex had other plans. He started critiquing my cooking. “Mom, it’s not that your food is bad, exactly… it’s just that there’s a certain… lack of variety.” I shot him a sideways glance. “You’ve been eating my cooking for thirteen years, and you’re choosing now to complain?” He scratched his head and grinned sheepishly. “It’s not a complaint, just an observation. I’m a growing boy. If you switched things up a bit, I bet I could hit six-foot-two, easy.” “Get out of here,” I said, swatting his cheek playfully. I couldn’t help but laugh. Over the past few weeks, I had finally figured it out. All of this—the trip, the critiques, the constant motion—was his way of keeping me busy. He was deliberately exhausting me so I wouldn’t have time to be sad. My judgment in husbands may have been terrible, but I had raised a true gem of a son. What was there left to be sad about? 6 I decided it was time to get a job. Mark had promised me the settlement and monthly child support, but a million dollars isn’t what it used to be. Alex’s tutoring alone cost nearly twenty thousand a year, not to mention all our other daily expenses. If I just sat back and lived off the savings, it wouldn’t be long before we were in trouble. After more than a decade as a stay-at-home mom, my professional skills were practically non-existent. I figured I should start with something simple and accessible, build up some experience, and then look for something better. I brought the idea up with Alex. If I was going to be working, I wouldn’t be around as much to take care of him. He thought for a moment. “I totally support you going back to work, Mom. But looking for a job is like dating. You have to be strategic.” His little-adult tone made me laugh. I couldn’t resist teasing him. “Oh, really? And how many girlfriends have you had that you’re such an expert?” He replied with unshakable logic. “Just think about it. If you rush into something mediocre just to have something, what happens when a better opportunity comes along? Do you break up with the old job, or do you just stay miserable?” I considered it. He had a point. Juggling a job you don’t like while trying to interview for a new one would be a nightmare. “So, finding a job isn’t the urgent thing,” Alex continued, leading me along. “But there is something else that is.” “What’s that?” I asked. “Canceling my tutors.” “Absolutely not!” I shut him down immediately. “Mom!” he wailed. “Three different subjects a day? I’m your son, not a workhorse!” 7 After a period of intense but friendly negotiation, we agreed to cancel the writing and math tutors. We would keep the computer programming class for now, with the possibility of re-evaluating if his grades improved. “All hail the queen!” Alex cheered, running two victory laps around me before voluntarily sitting down to do a set of math problems. Our life was slowly finding its new rhythm. One day, I was browsing a shopping link my best friend, Jenna, had sent me. Alex came over and peered at my laptop screen for a long time. “Does Aunt Jenna actually make money doing this?” he asked. “She does pretty well,” I said absently, entering my credit card information. He tugged on my arm, his eyes shining. “Mom, I think you’d be amazing at this.” A spark ignited in my mind. Jenna always had a knack for spotting the next big thing. She’d made a small fortune in e-commerce years ago and had recently pivoted to a new social commerce platform. It didn’t have a huge user base yet, but it was incredibly user-friendly, with flexible marketing tools. The growth potential was obvious. Most importantly, it had a one-click fulfillment feature, which meant I wouldn’t have to handle any inventory myself. It was perfect for a beginner like me. “You know what? I’ll call Jenna and get the details.” If my years as a homemaker had given me one superpower, it was the art of procurement. I’m picky. I don’t just look at the price; I demand quality. I was the kind of person who would compare ten different brands and read a hundred reviews before buying a toaster. All my friends came to me for recommendations. As Alex said, a platform like this was practically made for me. With Jenna’s help, I had my online shop up and running in no time. I was strict about quality control, personally testing every product before I listed it. So, while I wasn’t making a fortune, I quickly built a loyal customer base. Just like that, the month was almost over. And then, Mark showed up at my door. He told me he wanted to withdraw the divorce application.

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Liam refused to change his profile picture to a matching one with me. Again. But he had no problem letting that pretty new girl in his lab start a rumor that he was her boyfriend. I gave him an ultimatum: either clear it up, or we’re done. Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice tired through the phone. “She only said that to get some creepy guy to leave her alone, Chloe.” He sighed. “I just spent ten hours on a plane to get back. Are you sure you want to fight about something so insignificant right now?” That was Liam’s go-to move. Matching profile pics? Insignificant. Posting a photo of me on his Instagram? Insignificant. And now, letting someone else call him their boyfriend and not shutting it down? Also, somehow, insignificant. What he really meant was that *I* was insignificant. I let out a long, slow breath, my voice surprisingly calm. “I don’t want to fight either, Liam. That’s why we’re breaking up.” 1 I always thought that when I finally said the word “breakup,” I’d be a sobbing mess. But I wasn’t. The tears had already run out during all the nights he’d ignored my calls and left my texts on ‘read’. “I don’t agree to this breakup,” Liam said flatly over the video call. His voice was cold, detached. He was multitasking, typing out an email on his laptop while he talked to me. His eyes never once met the camera. “Stop being dramatic, Chloe. You’re not thinking clearly. We’ll talk when I get back to campus.” *Stop being dramatic.* His favorite three words. I took a deep breath. “What’s the point, Liam? You and Ava look more like a couple than we do.” He finally paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. His eyes, for the first time, flicked up to the screen. “Why would you say that?” Ava. The new girl in Liam’s grad program. While I was lucky to see Liam for a quick dinner once every couple of weeks, Ava spent ten hours a day with him in the lab. The university’s homepage even had a featured story on outstanding research students with a picture of the two of them, side-by-side, smiling. Me and Liam? We had nothing. No matching profile pics, no tagged photos on Instagram, nothing. I only knew Liam was back in the country from his conference in Geneva because of Ava’s Instagram story. The night before, she’d posted a selfie of them at a café near the airport. The caption read: *So excited for my new mentor to show me the ropes! Big things coming! 😉* The comments section was a flood of “OMG you two are so cute together! ❤️” and “Finally!! 🙌” Seeing it felt like a punch to the gut. My head just about exploded. I blew up his phone, calling and texting, but got nothing but silence. When I finally tracked Ava down on campus, she was laughing with a group of friends, looking shy and pleased. I asked her what the hell her post was about. She just blinked at me, playing dumb. “Chloe, what are you talking about?” I pulled up the post on my phone. Ava smiled, her voice a syrupy sweet. “Oh, *that*? Liam’s just agreed to be the lead on my new project. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you’d take it the wrong way.” “The comments,” I said through gritted teeth. “People think you’re a couple.” “I can’t control what people assume,” she said with a little shrug. “It’s not like I forced them to write that.” I felt like I was punching a pillow. “Then please, clarify it. Tell them they’re wrong.” Ava flicked her hair over her shoulder, looking bored. “I’m super busy right now. Liam is waiting on my data for his paper, so I don’t really have time to police my comments section. Besides,” she added, her eyes sweeping over me with a look I couldn’t quite decipher, “I’m a victim of this rumor too, you know. Why are you attacking me?” She paused, then delivered the final blow. “Honestly, if people were so quick to believe it, maybe you should think about why that is.” That night, I cried until my eyes were swollen shut. It wasn’t just because of Ava, but because of Liam’s suffocating silence. How busy could a person possibly be that they can’t find ten seconds to reply to a text? When he finally answered my video call, he had the look of a man dealing with a hysterical child. “She did it to get some clingy guy off her back.” “She could have called campus security,” I insisted, my voice thick. “Why did she have to do *that*?” Liam sighed, the sound crackling through the speaker. “Because it was complicated and a waste of time. The professor’s deadline is breathing down our necks, and finishing the experiment is what’s important. I told Ava to delete everything. Can we just drop it now?” This was a person I’d loved for nine years, since we were dumb kids in high school. I tried one last time to be vulnerable, to crack myself open and show him how much he was hurting me. “Liam, it’s about your attitude. I just… I just need to feel secure.” The clacking of his keyboard started up again. His attention was already back on his laptop. “What I say doesn’t matter. Facts matter. And security isn’t something I’m supposed to give you. It’s something you should give yourself.” I was just so tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue about who was right or wrong anymore. I didn’t want to be that screaming, hysterical girl he saw me as. I sniffled, forcing back the lump in my throat. “Just change your profile picture to the one I sent you. We’ll drop it after that, okay?” I could hear the soft, rhythmic tapping of his finger on his desk. He was thinking. Not about me, but about how to word that email. The email he’d been focused on since the start of our call. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke. “Only the truth matters. And the truth is, I’m with you. What other people think doesn’t change the fact that you’re my girlfriend.” But I didn’t want the “truth.” I wanted all the stupid, meaningless, superficial things he looked down on. I wanted the proof. I was about to hang up when a new voice cut through from his end. A girl’s voice. Ava’s voice. “Liam, is she giving you a hard time again? I already explained everything to her the other day when she ambushed me. I can’t believe she’s still going on about it. I don’t get why she’s so insecure.” I froze. My blood ran cold. It felt like I was standing naked in the middle of a crowded street. Ava was right there. Next to him. Which meant she’d heard every single word I’d just said. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Liam, why is it that the first person you see after you land isn’t me, but her?” Before Liam could answer, Ava’s smiling face squeezed into the frame. “Chloe, don’t misunderstand—” I slammed my laptop shut. 2 The next day, Liam found me outside my lecture hall. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted. He probably flew back, dumped his bags, and went straight to the lab to work all night. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice flat. “That new Italian place you wanted to try is open. I’m free today. Let’s go.” He started walking, then realized I wasn’t following him. He turned, looking back at me with a slight tilt of his head. It was his signature move—a quiet, unshakeable confidence that I would always, eventually, walk toward him. Any other time, I probably would have run and thrown my arms around him. But today, I turned and walked in the opposite direction. I heard his footsteps behind me, and then his hand was on my wrist. He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t be like this, Chloe. I didn’t go to see Ava. She showed up at the airport to pick me up. There was some urgent data we had to go over, so we just talked in the lounge for a bit.” He held out a small paper bag. “I got you these on my layover in Brussels. They’re chocolates.” Last month, after another conference, he’d brought me the exact same box of chocolates. I’d specifically, carefully, told him then. “Please, no more snacks. I’m not a huge fan. If you want to get me a gift, maybe some jewelry? Like a handmade bracelet, or even just a cute hair tie would be great.” He had mumbled “okay.” I thought he’d actually heard me. The bag hung in the air between us. He must have seen the look on my face, because his brow furrowed slightly. “Open it.” “I told you I don’t like sweets. Did you forget?” Liam looked blank for a second. I managed a small, humorless smile. “Did you get these for me because no one else wanted them? Or did you remember, but decided it was just easier to buy the same gift for everyone to save time?” Silence stretched between us. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he started to speak, but a cheerful, sing-song voice cut him off. “Liam, there you are! The professor just posted in the group chat about dinner tonight. You’re the only one who hasn’t RSVP’d!” Ava bounced over, positioning herself right next to him as if she belonged there. Her eyes landed on the bag in his hand. She gasped, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my god, Liam, are you giving those to Chloe? I thought I told you, you don’t give a girl chocolate.” She held up her wrist, showing off a delicate silver chain that caught the sunlight. “Little things like this are so much better. I love mine.” She smiled sweetly. “But hey, if Chloe doesn’t want them, I’m starving. Mind if I take them off your hands?” She was already reaching for the bag, her fingers about to close around it, when Liam jerked his hand back. Ava’s smile faltered. Liam didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on me, his tone stubborn. “They’re for you. Take them.” I took the bag from his hand. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. “I’m sorry,” he started, “I just saw them and thought you might like—” I ignored him and turned to Ava with a bright smile. “You wanted these, right?” Ava’s expression flickered, but she nodded, her smile returning. “Well, if you don’t mind… Of course, if you want them, I would never take your gift.” “Oh, I don’t mind at all.” With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the entire bag into a nearby trash can. Ava froze, her eyes widening as they started to well up with tears. I gestured with my chin toward the garbage. “Since you want them so badly, feel free to go get them. It would be a shame to waste your dear Liam’s thoughtful gift.” Liam took a half-step forward, then stopped himself. He looked at me, and his expression was a complicated mess of confusion, exhaustion, and a deep, profound weariness I’d never seen before. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Do you have to be so damn aggressive all the time?” And in that moment, all I could do was laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Liam could remember Ava’s preferences and see her crocodile tears, but he couldn’t remember a single promise to me or see my own hands clenched so tight my knuckles were white. I took a deep breath. “That box of chocolates was your apology gift. I don’t want it, so I threw it away. Who exactly am I hurting?” Liam just frowned and turned to leave. “We’ll go to dinner when you’ve calmed down.” 3 A full week went by. Liam didn’t call. He didn’t text. He probably thought this was just another one of our usual fights. Me throwing a tantrum, him going silent, and then me, after I’d cooled myself down, coming back to him like nothing had happened. And he was right about one thing. I did go find him. I walked right up to the door of his lab. Several heads turned in my direction, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and speculation. One guy with a loud voice and a friendly face came over. “Hey, can I help you? You looking for someone?” “Liam,” I said. He let out a low whistle. “Damn. Another one. Our boy Liam is in high demand, huh?” He puffed out his chest. “You know, it’s a real mystery. I’m a catch, too. How come no one ever shows up here looking for Leo?” He was annoying. I tried to step around him. “Whoa, hey, don’t go,” he said, blocking my path, his expression turning a little more serious, though the grin never left his eyes. “For real, though, I’m just giving you a friendly heads-up. Liam’s already taken.” He nodded his head in Ava’s direction. “But hey, if you need someone to talk to, I’m way more fun than he is.” Just then, Ava looked up and saw me. Her friendly demeanor vanished, replaced by a guarded, hostile look. She walked over to me. “Chloe. What are you doing here?” I smiled. “Since nobody else seems willing to clear things up, I figured I’d do it myself.” Leo looked confused. “Clear what up?” Ava cut him off, her voice suddenly small and timid. “Leo, can you give us a minute? This is kind of a private thing.” After he shrugged and walked away, Ava looked at me, her eyes pleading. “I told you, I only said those things to get that guy to back off so it wouldn’t mess with my lab work. And… I honestly thought your relationship with Liam was so strong that no one would actually believe it. I guess… I guess I was wrong.” She bit her lower lip. “Maybe… maybe I just got lucky. Or maybe… maybe it’s because you and Liam are never really public about your relationship, so people just filled in the blanks? I mean, if you two were really solid, it wouldn’t matter what anyone else said, right?” Suddenly, a sly, knowing smile curved her lips. “You know, Chloe, I’m actually kind of jealous of you. You’ve been by his side for so long. But… if a relationship is so fragile that a little rumor can shake it, is that kind of company even worth having?” She immediately looked down, her voice getting louder, projecting for an audience. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean it like that. Yell at me if you want. Just please don’t be mad at Liam.” Right on cue, I heard his voice from behind me. “What’s going on?” I didn’t have to turn around to know he was frowning. I looked around the lab, at all the curious faces watching us. I clapped my hands together once, sharply, getting everyone’s attention. Then I held up the small digital voice recorder in my hand. “You know what, Ava? You’re right. I don’t think it is worth it.” I looked straight at her, my smile unwavering. “So let’s make things a little more interesting.” As her eyes widened in horror, I pressed the play button.

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The day Richard Lu lost everything, I got engaged to his greatest rival. He had begged me, his voice choked with tears, asking what happened to the love I’d sworn to him. I laughed, my voice dripping with cruelty. “It was just a game, Richard. Don’t tell me you actually fell for it. Can’t handle losing?” On that rainy night, I ground his pride into the mud beneath my heel. Four years later, he returned, more powerful than ever, and dedicated himself to destroying me. But when he finally learned the truth, he broke down, his eyes red with weeping, and begged for my forgiveness once more. 1 Our reunion was anything but glamorous. A torrential downpour had just started, and his car hit me. I was a mess. My pale yellow dress was splattered with mud, and my knee and palm were stinging sharply. Someone helped me into the back of the car. I was about to give the driver a piece of my mind when I saw him, sitting silently in the corner. Richard Lu. He wore an immaculately tailored suit, not a single crease out of place. His brow furrowed the moment he saw me. It was a look of pure, undiluted disgust, the kind of impatience that said even looking at me was an insult, a stain on his vision. He used to reserve that look for his fawning admirers. Now, it was my turn. I caught my reflection in the window. My hair was plastered to my head, my cheek scraped raw. In the five years we were together, even when he was at his lowest, working himself to the bone on construction sites, I’d never looked this pathetic. Richard’s gaze swept over me for a fraction of a second, his lips tightening before he closed his eyes, dismissing me completely. I had no desire to speak to him either. I slowly, deliberately, massaged my injured knee. God, it throbbed. By the time we reached the hospital, the pain was worse, and small blossoms of blood had started to stain my dress. I got out of the car without a word, limping heavily. “And your fiancé?” Richard’s voice, cold and detached, stopped me. “Aren’t you going to tell him you’re hurt?” My hand froze on the car door. I let a small, tight smile touch my lips. “He’s busy. I wouldn’t dream of distracting him.” For a moment, he hesitated, then his mask of indifference fell back into place. I couldn’t help but remember the old Richard. The one who was on call for me 24/7, 365 days a year. A machine gets to recharge, but I often kept him up all night with my whims. The worst time, he stood in the freezing autumn rain for an entire night because he hadn’t managed to buy the roast duck from that one place across town, and I’d threatened to break up with him over it. Everyone said I was impossible, that he should leave me. But he never let go. In our relationship, he was always the one who needed me more. That’s why the day I finally left him, the pain had been so visceral, so absolute. I had shattered his pride, torn it to shreds, and still, he couldn’t believe I didn’t want him anymore. He could have fallen for anyone. But for his first love, he chose a liar like me. 2 When I came out of the hospital, Richard’s car was gone. His assistant was waiting by the entrance to drive me home. My fiancé, Kevin Sterling, saw my bandages and leaned in, his eyes wide with morbid curiosity. “Well, well. You’re hurt. That’s a new one!” His voice grew louder, laced with amusement. “Richard Lu is back, isn’t he? It was him!” Kevin roared with laughter. “Aurora, you are so screwed! Your ex is back for revenge. The way you treated him back then… it was cruel enough to make a devil shake its head.” “Do you want Sterling Construction to go bankrupt?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. The next morning, I woke up to Kevin’s frantic shouting. “Aurora, you’ve ruined me! That lunatic Richard Lu is launching a hostile takeover of Sterling Construction!” He was serious. He’d already acquired a majority of the shares. “I’ll tell him the truth! I’ll tell him why you really left him!” Kevin threatened when he saw my lack of reaction. With a sigh, I dialed a number I knew by heart. I hadn’t consciously thought of it in four years, but my fingers moved with an eerie familiarity. I never expected it to connect. It was five in the morning; he should have been on his morning run. “Hello.” His voice, cool and distant, came through the line. My fingers froze. A second later, I hung up. “Damn it! Aurora, are you insane?!” Kevin yelled in my ear. “It went through! Why did you hang up?!” A moment later, the number called back. 3 Kevin snatched the phone from my hand and answered. “Aurora, I know it’s you.” Richard’s detached voice echoed in the bedroom. My mind went blank. I’d changed my number years ago. “Richard, Aurora wants to see you,” Kevin blurted out. The breathing on the other end of the line hitched. “Is Kevin Sterling with you?” He was jumping to conclusions, but I had no intention of correcting him. “Of course. Is it so strange for me to be with my own fiancé?” Please, Richard, I thought. Misunderstand me. Hate my guts. It’s better for both of us. “Good,” Richard’s voice was a low snarl. “That’s just perfect.” He hung up. I stared at the phone, stunned. Five minutes later, a text message arrived. [If you want to save Sterling Construction, be at the old place. 2 p.m.] When I arrived at the private club, Richard was staring into a glass of whiskey. Sitting beside him was Mia, my old nemesis. She was leaning in, lighting a cigarette for him with a fawning smile. Richard, who was famously obsessed with cleanliness, took it without hesitation. My brow twitched. The old Richard used to speak of Mia with utter disgust. He would actively avoid any place she might be. His reason? A good boyfriend doesn’t entertain other women. He doesn’t give his admirers false hope. He doesn’t give his girlfriend a reason to be jealous or worried. And what had I done back then? I’d smashed a piece of cake in his face. “Richard, get a grip. You think I’d be jealous?” He hadn’t cared about the cream dripping down his cheek. He had just quietly called his assistant and asked him to bring another slice of strawberry cake. 4 I chose a seat as far away from Richard as possible, but the acrid smell of smoke still drifted over, catching in my throat. I couldn’t stop myself from coughing. “Richard,” Mia whined, shooting me a dirty look. “Someone’s here to ruin the mood.” “Then I’ll leave,” I said, grabbing my bag and turning to go without a second glance. CRASH. Richard hurled his glass against the wall. He stalked toward me, each step heavy and deliberate. The closer he got, the more I coughed. He stared down at me for a few long seconds before grinding the cigarette out in an ashtray. “Did I say you could leave?” “Get away from me,” I snapped, covering my nose, my face a mask of revulsion. “You reek of smoke. It’s disgusting.” A cold smirk played on his lips, but he did take a step back. “Richard, have you forgotten how she treated you?” Mia scurried over, clinging to his arm. Richard’s frown was almost imperceptible, but he allowed it. “Don’t let her fool you again,” Mia pleaded. “Then what do you think I should do?” Richard asked, his voice low as he looked down at her. “Punish her, of course,” Mia said, her face lighting up with malicious glee. “I hear the bungee jumping at Crestview Mountain is incredible!” At the mention of bungee jumping, the color drained from my face. A flicker of surprise crossed Richard’s eyes, but he nodded, accepting Mia’s suggestion. “You jump, and I’ll spare the Sterling family.” 5 “Fine,” I said, forcing a smile as I suppressed the terror rising in my throat. Richard’s expression grew even darker as he emotionlessly motioned for the staff to bring the equipment. I clutched my bag. If he had threatened me like this four years ago, I would have slapped him twice, and he would have asked if my hand hurt. Now, the tables had turned. “You regret it now, don’t you, Aurora?” Mia taunted as a staff member strapped the harness around my waist. “Too bad. Richard sees you for what you really are.” “Thank you for being so blind,” I shot back. “Are you done? You seem to love picking up my leftovers.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “I never loved Richard. Not for a second. He’s all yours.” “Richard!” Mia cried out, overjoyed. “Did you hear that? She’s a heartless monster.” “I’ve known that for a long time,” Richard replied, his voice as cold as a winter night. The harness was painfully tight, digging into my waist as if trying to snap my spine in two. But that was nothing compared to the sheer terror of standing on the edge of the cliff. 6 The wind howled in my ears, and the sun beat down mercilessly. I wiped a bead of sweat from my temple and gave a slight nod. The next second, I was pushed. The wind ripped past my lips, my ears, my eyes, a physical force tearing at my chest. Compared to the minor scrapes from yesterday, this was a new level of hell. My ears were ringing, and my head felt like it was being split open with a hammer. After what felt like an eternity, they pulled me back up. My legs were so weak I nearly collapsed. “Tsk. And here I thought you were so tough, Aurora.” Mia leaned in, her voice dripping with scorn. “Look at you, pale as a ghost. Scared, are we? I suggest you stop embarrassing yourself and get lost!” My vision was a blur of gray. I couldn’t make out her words. “Does your promise still stand?” That was all I cared about. “Richard, she only cares about her fiancé!” Mia muttered to someone behind me. I turned my head slightly, my eyes unable to focus. “Richard. Your promise. Does it stand?” There was a long silence before he finally spoke. “Yes.” Relief washed over me. At the same time, a warm trickle ran from my nose. I heard Mia’s gasp. “Aurora, you’re bleeding!” I tried to answer, but my head spun, and the world went dark. Just before I passed out, I caught the clean, sharp scent of pine. “Aurora!” The hands that caught me were trembling. The voice that called for an ambulance was shaking uncontrollably.

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The day her college protégé died of cancer, my pregnant wife jumped from the hospital rooftop during a check-up, taking our baby with her. Only then did I realize: Ava, who vowed at our wedding to love only me, had always loved him. When I opened my eyes again, it was our wedding day—we had both been reborn. Without a word, we made the same choice: we fled to chase the lives we truly wanted. Seven years later, she used her future knowledge to secure massive funding, becoming an AI titan. At her product launch, she publicly announced her relationship with her programmer protégé. Spotting me in the crowd—well-dressed, holding a diamond ring—she smirked into the microphone, “Even if you proposed right now, I’d never make the mistake of choosing you again.” But that evening, when the conference’s secret billionaire investor—a powerful, elegant woman—blushed and accepted my proposal, it was Ava who rushed the stage, eyes blazing, demanding, “This is all a stunt to win me back, isn’t it? You swore you’d only love me!” 1 I always knew that after our rebirth, my ex-wife, Ava, and I would cross paths again. I just never imagined it would be on the day I planned to propose to my girlfriend. Right now, Ava was the star of the show, radiant on stage in a stunning crimson dress. Beside her, her beloved protégé from the past, Leo, stood tall in a crisp white suit. Their fingers were intertwined as they made their relationship official for the world to see. The room erupted in thunderous applause and excited cheers. “Leo and Ms. Thorne are the golden couple of the tech world!” “Totally! I heard they built this company from the ground up together, through thick and thin. It’s the ultimate love story!” Amid the buzz, someone shouted a question. “You two are so perfect together! When’s the wedding?” The question stopped me cold. They weren’t married yet? In our past life, the moment Ava heard Leo was dead, she hadn’t hesitated. She’d abandoned our unborn child, leaping from that hospital roof just to join him in death. After being reborn on our wedding day, she’d ditched me at the altar and driven a thousand miles overnight to be with him. I’d assumed they would have been married for years, living a quiet life with a family by now. But seven years had passed, and they were only just now going public. Wait a second… Even in our past life, when she was married to me, Ava never hid her connection to Leo. Why, in this life where they were finally together, was she so secretive, waiting until now to reveal their relationship? On stage, Ava’s smile tightened for a fraction of a second before her polished, professional mask slid back into place. “We’re not in a rush to get married,” she said smoothly. “Leo is already under so much pressure with work, and I don’t want to add to his burden. Besides, we’re more focused on our careers right now. That way, when we do have a baby, we can give them the best possible life.” Her explanation was met with a wave of knowing, affectionate smiles from the audience. “I never knew the ruthless Ava Thorne could be so thoughtful and tender!” “Ugh, what a dream romance! I wish I had a partner like that.” I watched Ava, her smile so perfectly crafted, and I had to shake my head. So, this was the real Ava. Capable of worrying, of considering someone else’s feelings, of planning a future for two. Not the woman I knew, who treated me with a distant, polite respect, her every action tinged with a chilling indifference, as if nothing I did ever truly mattered. Smack! A sharp pain exploded at the back of my head, yanking me from my thoughts. I clutched my head and spun around. The event manager was glaring at me, his face a thundercloud of fury. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m paying you to clean, not to stand around daydreaming!” His roar drew the attention of the entire room. Including Ava. Her eyes flickered over my server’s uniform, a flash of surprise in their depths. “Ethan? What are you doing here?” I answered instinctively. “I’m waiting for someone.” It was true. Today was my seven-year anniversary with my girlfriend, Molly. I’d heard she would be attending this launch as an investor, so I’d disguised myself as a waiter to surprise her with a proposal. I never expected this disastrous reunion with my ex-wife. Leo let out a cold, derisive snort. “Everyone invited here tonight is a major player in the tech industry. Who could you possibly be waiting for, besides Ava? Don’t tell me you’re waiting for that mysterious investor who hasn’t even shown up yet.” He took a menacing step forward. “Just stop stalking her, man. Get lost before I change my mind and have you thrown out.” Ava remained silent, her gaze sweeping past me to land on the manager. “Today is a special day for Leo and me, so I won’t hold you responsible for letting an outsider slip in,” she said, her voice cool and detached. “Pay him double and have him leave immediately.” From beginning to end, Ava stood on that stage, her expression calm and unreadable. After that initial flicker of surprise, she hadn’t looked at me again. It was as if we’d never shared a life, as if we were nothing more than strangers. As the man who had been her husband for years in another lifetime, I knew exactly what this meant. To be ignored by her was the ultimate expression of her contempt. But ever since she’d chosen to die for Leo, my feelings for her had withered into dust. I was no longer the man who would bend and break for her. With that thought, I held up the diamond ring in my hand. “Why should I leave?” I said, shaking my head. “I’m here to propose.” Leo’s eyes finally registered the ring, and he burst out laughing. “Propose? You think we’re children? You really think anyone’s buying that rock? It’s the size of a doorknob. If that were real, it’d be worth a house. You’re just screaming ‘fake’.” His voice dripped with scorn. “Look at you, getting old and still trying to latch onto a rich woman. Did Ava leaving you at the altar break your brain, Ethan?” He was twisting the knife, flaunting his victory. But all I felt was a profound sense of exhaustion. Of course the diamond was real. Ava wasn’t the only one who came back. Using my own memories of the future, I had become a formidable player in the world of venture capital. Over seven years, I’d turned an initial investment of fifty thousand dollars into a fortune of over five hundred million by betting on gold, short-form video, and AI. A multi-carat diamond was pocket change. Seeing my silence, Leo assumed I was ashamed and cornered. He was about to physically shove me out when Ava stopped him. “Leo, don’t. The press is here. It wouldn’t look good.” She turned to me, her expression unreadable. “I know how he is. Let me handle this.” She fixed her gaze on me, her eyes as calm as a frozen lake. “Ethan, it’s been seven years. I thought you would have matured. But you’re still so reckless.” “You came here for money, didn’t you? For old times’ sake, as college acquaintances, I can find a job for you. It’s better than waiting tables for a living.” “I’ll send you the contact for our HR department. Just give them your name.” She pulled out her phone, ready to forward the information. But then she froze, her eyes locked on the stark red exclamation point on her screen. “You… you blocked me?!” 2 Her exclamation reminded me—I’d completely forgotten to delete her contact information! Thank God I blocked her right after the wedding fiasco. If Molly ever found out I still had my ex-wife’s number, I’d be sleeping on the couch for a month. “Oh, right,” I said, nodding thoughtfully. “Thanks for reminding me.” A smug smile touched Ava’s lips. “Now that you remember, you can add me back. My time is very…” Before she could finish, I deleted her contact right in front of her. The smile on her face vanished, replaced by a glacial mask. After a long, tense moment, she spoke, each word dripping with ice. “I see now my decision was the right one. Seven years, and you’re still just as childish.” She shook her head. “This was likely the last time our paths will ever cross, the only chance you had to change your pathetic life. And you just threw it away.” Leo chimed in with a sneer. “Ava, you’re just too kind. This guy is stalking you, posing as a waiter to get close. Who knows what he’ll do next? If you ask me, we should just call the cops and have this scum arrested. Why waste your breath on him?” I felt my jaw clench. If we were talking about scum, Leo was king. After all, in our past life, he hadn’t died of cancer. He’d died from something… messier. A consequence of a reckless, sordid lifestyle. Back in college, he was already using Ava’s living allowance to fund his nights of binge drinking and clubbing with trashy girls. The real reason he’d broken up with her wasn’t to “study abroad,” as he’d claimed. It was because he’d drained her dry and latched onto a wealthier girl, lying to avoid the drama. It was during that period of wild partying that he contracted the disease that would kill him seven years later. I only found out after tracking down his medical records in our previous life. If things had followed the same course, Ava was likely infected, too. Before leaving, a flicker of old-fashioned decency compelled me to warn her. “By the way, you should probably get yourself checked out by a doctor.” Ava’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” My gaze shifted to Leo, my tone deliberate and heavy with implication. “Some diseases… they’re contagious.” Leo’s face paled instantly. Guilt was written all over him. But Ava, misinterpreting my warning as a jealous jab, just scoffed. “You’ve changed, Ethan. I used to think you were just incompetent. I never realized you were morally bankrupt, too. Sour grapes, I see. Spreading lies about Leo just because you can’t have me.” Seeing that she was completely unreachable, I gave up and turned to leave. “Stop!” Leo stepped in front of me, blocking my path. I braced myself for a fight, my fists clenching at my sides. But instead of throwing a punch, he leaned in, a slimy grin spreading across his face. “Hey, Ethan. You’re over thirty now, right? Don’t tell me you still haven’t managed to find a wife.” A dark cloud passed over me. Obviously not. If I had a wife, why would I be here proposing to my girlfriend? Leo’s grin widened. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Look at you, dressed in those cheap, no-name clothes. Who would want you? But hey, since you seem to have a taste for mooching, how about I introduce you to a rich old widow? You might even get a nice inheritance out of it!” The people around him snickered, but I looked him straight in the eye, my voice steady and serious. “No, thank you. There’s only one person I love. We’ve built a life together. I would never marry anyone but her.” As I spoke those resolute words, I saw a flicker of something complex and unreadable in Ava’s eyes from across the room. She quickly turned away, avoiding my gaze. A moment later, she pulled a checkbook from her purse and held a slip of paper out to me. “It’s impossible for us, Ethan. Even if you wait forever, it will never happen. You came here for money, right? Here. Two hundred thousand dollars. It’s enough for you to go back to your hometown, buy a house, and get married.” 3 A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. Leo stared at Ava, bewildered. “Ava… you don’t… still have feelings for him, do you?” I looked at the check in her hand and realized she’d completely misunderstood. The woman I was talking about wasn’t her. It was Molly, my girlfriend in this life. After Ava left me at the altar, I sold our would-be marital home and dove into the stock market. That’s where I met Molly. It started with a dare at a trading exchange. Using my knowledge of the future, I helped her sidestep a catastrophic loss. As we spent more time together, we discovered a shared passion for everything from obscure films to street food. We just… clicked. It was only later that I learned she was the sole heir to the vast Linwood Corporation, a conglomerate with interests across the country. She was a prodigy, a brilliant investor whose sharp instincts had propelled her family’s company to new heights. In fact, Ava’s startup was just one of hundreds of companies in Molly’s investment portfolio. With a woman like Molly by my side, any lingering feelings for Ava had long since evaporated. Feeling the weight of everyone’s stares, Ava finally turned to address them, her composure regained. “Of course not. But when we were… together… he helped me with some of the early AI algorithms. This money is to buy out his intellectual property rights. Once the company goes public, it will prevent people like him from coming out of the woodwork to cause trouble and blackmail us.” Her explanation made Leo relax, but I was just speechless. I had forgotten about that, but now that she brought it up… I did more than “help her with some algorithms.” The reason Ava had gotten this far was because she’d built her entire company on the foundation of an AI framework I had spent years perfecting in our past life. After being reborn, her first move was to steal my life’s work to pave the way for her precious Leo, registering patents for my technology. She knew, however, that I still possessed the original data files. If I decided to sue, the ensuing legal battle would tank her company’s stock value. So, this wasn’t about “mitigating business risk.” This was hush money. But what she didn’t know was that my original framework had a fatal flaw, a time bomb that was guaranteed to explode eventually. I wanted no part of it. Besides, I was already financially independent thanks to my own investments. Two hundred thousand dollars was an insult. I took the check from her hand and tore it to shreds. Leo’s face contorted with rage. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “See, Ava? Pathetic people are pathetic for a reason! The guy is insatiably greedy! Two hundred grand isn’t enough for him. You don’t need to waste your pity on trash like this!” His spit flew as he ranted. I took a disgusted step back. Ava, having been rebuffed again and again, had also reached her limit. Her face was a mask of cold fury. “Fine. You’re on your own,” she snapped, turning away from me for good. I shrugged and made to leave the toxic atmosphere behind me. But as I walked away, Leo stuck his foot out, tripping me. I went down hard, the contents of my pocket spilling onto the floor. My watch clattered across the polished marble. Leo bent down to pick it up. The sneer on his face vanished, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. “This… this is a limited edition Patek Philippe! The new release!” he stammered, his eyes huge. “The auction for these started in the millions! It’s practically priceless… How… how do you have this?!” I scrambled to my feet, brushed myself off, and snatched the watch back. “It’s mine. What’s it to you?” Molly had given it to me this morning for our anniversary. I’d taken it off when I slipped into the waiter’s uniform, thinking it was too flashy for my disguise. Leo looked at me like I was insane. “Bullshit! You don’t even have a job! How could you afford this watch? No wonder you turned down the money. You stole this, didn’t you? You were trying to get away so you could fence it!” At his words, a horrible realization dawned on Ava. Her face went pale. “Ethan, do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she hissed, her voice sharp with alarm. “The only person in this country who owns that watch is Molly Linwood, the heiress to the Linwood Corporation! She bought it at a high-profile auction a while back, saying it was a gift for her boyfriend. Did you steal from the Linwoods?!” The room exploded. “I heard Molly Linwood is crazy about her boyfriend. Some guy posted a video online criticizing his investment strategy once, and she sued him into oblivion. He’ll be paying off that debt for the rest of his life.” “Seriously? This guy has a death wish. Stealing from Molly Linwood’s boyfriend? He’s a dead man walking.” Listening to the whispers, I almost laughed out loud. Stole it? I am Molly Linwood’s boyfriend. I was about to set them straight when Leo, glancing at his phone, broke in with a triumphant shout. “You’re finished, Ethan! I just got word that Molly Linwood is on her way up! We can hand you over to her, you little thief. Maybe she’ll be so grateful she’ll even increase our funding!” He was about to call security when a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. It was Molly. A wave of relief washed over me, and a smile spread across my face. “Molly! You’re finally here. I’ve been waiting for you!” Leo scoffed at my familiar tone. “A common thief, cozying up to Ms. Linwood? The guy’s lost his mind.” As the host of the event, Ava immediately stepped forward, her voice laced with deference. “Ms. Linwood, I apologize for the chaotic scene. But there’s a reason for it. We happened to find the watch you gifted your boyfriend here at the venue and were just about to contact you to return it.” I rolled my eyes. “It was never lost,” I shot back at Ava. “You can stop with the fake sincerity.” My retort left her speechless, her face turning a blotchy red. “You… you are beyond saving! Fine, you can rot for all I care!” she spat, washing her hands of me and stepping back to watch the train wreck she expected to unfold. Ignoring the buzzing swarm of whispers around me, I pulled the ring box from my pocket. Taking a deep breath, I dropped to one knee. I looked up at Molly, my eyes filled with a soft, unwavering love. “Molly,” I said, my voice steady. “Will you marry me?” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the suddenly silent hall, it carried to every corner. Leo was the first to break the silence, clutching his stomach as he howled with laughter. “Ethan, are you brain-dead? Take a good look at yourself in a puddle. Do you really think you’re worthy of Ms. Linwood? Besides, she’s already taken! Her boyfriend is a legend, a titan of industry, not a pathetic nobody like you!” He was getting more and more worked up, practically spitting in his excitement. “Her boyfriend is one of the greatest investment geniuses of our time! And you? You’re nothing! Anyone who tries to get between them ends up as dust! You’re about to vanish off the face of the earth, you idiot!” Ava watched me with an expression of pure, unadulterated disappointment. “Ethan, you never change. Must you always push things until you’re at a dead end?” She shook her head, as if I were a lost cause. The rest of the room looked on with a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity, waiting for the inevitable humiliation. But Molly—the famously ruthless, ice-cold Molly Linwood—blushed. A shy, beautiful blush that spread across her cheeks. Then, slowly, she extended her hand. I gently slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice soft but clear. “And let’s have the wedding next week.”

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After the divorce, Adrian Grint and I were supposed to be done with each other. A clean break. He got engaged to his childhood sweetheart, and our son, Leo, finally got the new mother he’d always wanted. I moved out, ready to start a new life. Then, one day, my best friend sent me a viral video. A family of three, skiing in the Swiss Alps, caught in an avalanche. The mother bolted, leaving the father and son to be swallowed by a tidal wave of snow. When the blizzard of white settled, the two figures left behind, their faces as dark as thunderclouds, were none other than my ex-husband and my son. My friend’s laughter crackled through the phone. “So that’s Adrian’s one true love? I could die laughing.” 1 “Everyone thought she was the one, but she just couldn’t stick the landing. One step away from marrying into a fortune, and now Maggie’s future is looking… precarious.” Emma was on a video call while I was in the kitchen, carefully crafting a mousse cake for Ivy. The rich, tempting aroma of chocolate filled the living room, a sweet scent that always lifted my spirits. Through the phone, Emma’s voice dripped with undisguised schadenfreude. My divorce from Adrian had been messy. The whole city of Aurelia knew he’d left me to be with his decade-long flame, the supposed love of his life—Maggie. “And your little traitor of a son, landing a stepmom like that? Well, his future just got a whole lot more interesting,” she added. Ever since the divorce, Emma had taken to calling Leo “your little traitor.” Honestly, I didn’t care much about what happened to them anymore. To me, they were just strangers. 2 After finishing the cake, I tapped on the video. It was eerily similar to a scene from a disaster movie. An outdoor restaurant nestled at the foot of a snow-capped mountain. Tourists were leisurely enjoying their breakfast when, in the distance, a wall of white began to tumble down. Chaos erupted. One second, Maggie was tenderly cutting a steak for Adrian and Leo, the perfect picture of a loving mother. The next, her face went pale, a terrified shriek escaping her lips as she flung her fork down and ran for her life. The fork even ricocheted off Adrian’s face, poking him near the eye. He cried out, clutching his face, unable to move. Leo, trapped behind him at the table, was stuck. As the avalanche thundered closer, a torrent of white death, pure, unadulterated terror washed over his small, pale face. His voice, thick with tears, screamed in Maggie’s direction. “Mommy, save me!” But the only answer he received was the cacophony of panicked screams that filled the air. As it turned out, it was a false alarm. The avalanche stopped short of the restaurant. When the snow dust settled, the camera zoomed in on the father and son, their faces a mask of stunned fury, blacker than the bottom of a burnt pot. 3 The video was everywhere, and the comment section was on fire. [LOL, so art really does imitate life. And life is way more messed up.] [When disaster strikes, the mother ditches her husband and kid to save herself. Classy.] [Can we get a camera on the son’s face? I need to see the therapy bills racking up in real-time.] [I give this marriage six months, tops.] [UPDATE: Sleuths in another thread figured it out. She’s the fiancée, and the kid is his stepson.] [Ohhhhh, that makes a twisted kind of sense.] [I knew it! No real mom would ever do that. I mean, maybe the husband isn’t your blood, but your own son?!] [Wait, she still ditched her future stepson at the first sign of trouble. What kind of person does that?] 4 “And that, my friend, is the difference between a real mom and a stepmom,” Emma said, her voice softening with memory. “Remember that time we were at that mountain lodge? When you shielded Leo from that dog and almost got your arm ripped off, but you never let go.” She was right. Two years ago, her little princess, Sophie, had wanted to see the great outdoors, and Leo had begged to go along. So, a few of us moms packed up the kids for a spontaneous trip to the Rockies. While we were hiking near a remote cabin, a massive, snarling dog—some kind of Caucasian Shepherd—broke loose and charged our group. The beast, as tall as a man when it reared up, was on Leo in a heartbeat. My own heart stopped. There was no time to think. I launched myself forward, wrapping my body around my son. The dog’s teeth sank into my arm. The other adults screamed, their faces white with horror, and the children were wailing. Thankfully, the owner heard the commotion and came running. It was winter, and my thick coat had saved me from the worst of it, but my arm was still a bloody mess. When I took off the jacket, I saw the deep, gruesome puncture wounds. They eventually healed, but the scars remained. I remember once, I rolled up my sleeves, and Leo saw them. The look of disgust on his face is burned into my memory. “Mom, your arm is so ugly,” he’d said. “Maggie’s arms are perfect and smooth. No wonder Daddy loves her.” I knew. It wasn’t just his dad who loved her. He did, too. Back then, Leo’s greatest wish was to trade me in for a new mom, for the beautiful, perfect Maggie to be his mother instead. In the end, he got his wish. And it was around then that I stopped expecting anything from either of them. 5 The long weekend ended. On Monday, I drove Ivy to school. At the school gates, I handed her the lunchbox I’d prepared, filled with a fresh fruit platter and a slice of the mousse cake. “I packed a lot, so remember to share with your new friends at lunch,” I reminded her gently. Ivy had just started first grade at this prestigious prep school and was still settling in. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a sweet kiss on my cheek. “I will, Aunt Stella. I’ll share!” “Bye, Aunt Stella!” I kissed her forehead. “Bye, sweetie.” I watched her small figure disappear into the school building before turning to leave. “I heard you’re working as a nanny now.” A voice laced with scorn cut through the air. “Figures. Without my dad, you’re nothing.” I turned. Leo was getting out of a black Rolls-Royce, a sneer plastered on his face. I’d almost forgotten he went to the same school. He was my son, yes, but at that moment, he felt no different to me than any of the strangers brushing past me on the sidewalk. I didn’t even want to waste my breath on a reply. I simply started to walk away. “You’re living so close to us,” he called after me. “Don’t tell me you’re still hoping to get back with my dad.” Leo always knew how to twist the knife. He was only eight, but he’d long since mastered the art of psychological warfare. I stopped and turned to face the small boy. The boy I had poured my youth, my love, my entire being into raising. Now, we stood on opposite sides of a chasm, ice and fire, looking at each other with mutual disdain. “Relax,” I said, my voice calm. “I have zero interest in your father. By the way, I heard you all went skiing in the Alps. How was it? Fun?” I knew exactly which buttons to push. A flash of angry humiliation crossed his face. I gave him a cool, placid smile and walked away. 6 “Was that your son?” The voice, cool and sharp, came from the back seat as soon as I got in the car. I straightened up instantly, clicking my seatbelt into place. In the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of Ethan Holt. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, his handsome face set in a frown, his brow furrowed. His gaze met mine in the mirror, waiting for an answer. Under that weight, I could only manage a quiet, “Yes.” A short, sharp sigh escaped his nose. “Stella Song, your life is a tragedy. A husband and a son cut from the same treacherous cloth.” He was my employer now. I couldn’t argue. Besides, he wasn’t wrong. Then, as if remembering a crucial detail, I added weakly, “Ex-husband.” 7 I had lived with the Holts for three years when I was younger, so Ethan and I knew each other well. Ivy was the daughter of his sister, Eliza. And Eliza had been my dearest friend. Six months ago, Eliza was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer and insisted on returning home from abroad. Ethan brought her back, along with a world-class medical team, but it wasn’t enough to save her. In her final moments, Eliza gripped my hand, entrusting her daughter, Ivy, to me. She made me promise to raise Ivy as my own, to be there for her as she grew up. We met when we were twelve, were separated at eighteen, and at twenty-nine, she was gone. After that day, I moved into the Holt residence to take care of Ivy. The house was fully staffed, with nannies and housekeepers, so they didn’t really need me for the chores. I knew what Eliza was really doing. She must have heard about the state of my marriage. After all, Adrian was parading Maggie all over the city; it was impossible not to know. Eliza had given me an excuse, a way out of the hell my marriage had become. After divorcing Adrian, it felt like a heavy shroud had been lifted from my soul. I finally understood what it meant to find freedom by letting go. Before that, I had been prepared to fight Adrian for a lifetime, to drag him and Maggie down with me, refusing to grant him a divorce unless he gave me full custody of Leo. But as it turned out, all my righteous determination had been utterly worthless. 8 Every day, I would take Ivy to school and pick her up in the afternoon. Having just moved back to the country, she was fascinated by everything. We’d often ditch the driver and wander hand-in-hand through bustling streets and quiet alleyways, marveling at the strange and wonderful trinkets sold at street stalls. We’d sample all kinds of snacks—candied apples, churros, warm pretzels. I made a rule: one new treat a day, and only a small portion, so she’d still have an appetite for dinner. She was a wonderfully behaved little girl and never pushed for more. Her small hand, soft and warm in mine, was a constant comfort. She would look up at me with her big, innocent eyes. “Aunt Stella, can I try this one?” “Wow, this is so yummy! You have to try it, Aunt Stella!” Her sweet, melodic voice could melt the coldest heart. I hadn’t felt this kind of peace and tranquility in a very long time. It felt like a dream. After Eliza passed, Ivy was lost in grief for weeks. She’d wake up from nightmares, sobbing uncontrollably, crying out for her mother. To distract her, I’d tell her stories about what Eliza was like as a little girl. One night, I told her about a boy Eliza and I both had a crush on. That got her attention. She stopped crying, her curiosity piqued. “What happened? Who did he choose?” she asked, her eyes wide. I stroked her hair. “To save our friendship, your mom and I both decided to let him go. He ended up with someone else.” I sighed dramatically. “Such a shame, he was so handsome. Looking back, I totally should have fought for him.” Ivy blinked her big, round eyes. “Was he really handsome? More handsome than my Uncle Ethan?” I considered it for a moment. “Just as handsome as your uncle.” … Night after night, I stayed by her side, and slowly, Ivy’s emotional storm began to calm. The nightmares faded, and she started sleeping through the night. But in their place grew a new kind of attachment. She became my little shadow during the day, and at night, she wouldn’t fall asleep unless I was sitting by her bed. It was a strange, new experience for me. Why strange? Because by the time Leo was four, he had already declared he didn’t want to sleep with his mommy anymore. By five, he wouldn’t let me hold his hand or kiss his cheek. I used to think it was just boys being boys, naturally more reserved and less affectionate. Then I found the videos on Adrian’s backup phone. Videos of him and Leo celebrating Maggie’s birthday. In the videos, my son was clinging to Maggie, showering her with kisses, making her giggle with delight. The same son who was so cold and distant with me was a fountain of sweet affection for her. “Happy birthday, Aunt Maggie! Hope you stay eighteen forever!” he chirped, his voice dripping with honey. “You’re not just Daddy’s one and only, you’re my one and only, too!” That was when I learned the truth. Every summer, Adrian would take Leo abroad for a month, claiming it was for an international summer camp. In reality, he was taking my son on vacation with his mistress. For years, they had traveled across Europe, North America, Asia. One year, they even went on a trip right under my nose, to a resort just a few hours away. Staring at the phone, at the endless photos and videos of their perfect little family, a black wave of fury washed over me. I wanted to tear Adrian limb from limb. I wanted to burn his entire world to the ground. How dare he? How dare he take the son I had endured a day and a night of agony to bring into this world, the son who was my very life, and use him as a prop to win over his mistress? And to keep me in the dark, year after year, like a fool? That night, I lost control. I threw the phone at Adrian’s head with all my might. When he woke up, dazed and angry, and realized I knew, his reaction was chillingly calm. “Since you know, let’s get a divorce.” His casual tone, his complete lack of remorse, told me everything. He had been waiting for this. Maybe he’d even left the phone on the nightstand on purpose. In that instant, my rage peaked. I launched myself at him, scratching and biting like a cornered animal. The commotion brought others running. Soon, my mother-in-law, Margaret, and Leo were at our bedroom door. Seeing me attacking her precious son, Margaret’s face twisted in disgust. She ordered two maids to pull me off and throw me to the floor. When she found out why we were fighting, she sneered. “Is that all? What man doesn’t have a little fun on the side? It’s your own fault for not keeping him interested. Don’t be a sore loser and wake up the whole house.” Looking at this mother and son, with their completely warped sense of morality, a cold, hard resolve formed in my heart. Four words escaped my lips. “I want a divorce.” “Fine,” she shot back. “Leave Leo here and you can go wherever you want.” They wanted me to leave my son behind. In their dreams. One was a completely hands-off grandmother, the other a perpetually absent father. For eight years, I had raised Leo almost entirely on my own. Aside from that one month a year with his father, I was the one who managed every single aspect of his life. I would fight Adrian to the bitter end. I would never, ever leave Leo with him. From that day on, Adrian and I were locked in a cold war. He dropped all pretense, flying Maggie back to the country and flaunting her around Aurelia City. One day, the private investigator I hired sent me photos. Adrian had taken Leo to see Maggie again, behind my back. I exploded. But before I could even scream at Adrian, Leo spoke, his voice chillingly calm. “That’s enough, Mom. Stop shouting. I knew Aunt Maggie was back, and I wanted to see her. Just look at yourself, acting like a crazy person. What man could stand you? If I were Dad, I’d divorce you and be with Aunt Maggie too.” He paused, his gaze cold and steady. “You don’t have to keep fighting. I won’t choose you. I choose to be with Dad, Maggie, and Grandma.” In that moment, it felt as if the world stopped. I froze, staring at my own son as if he were a complete stranger. Leo’s eyes were cold. Adrian’s eyes were cold. The looks of disgust and revulsion on their faces were identical. They looked at me as if I were a clown, a lunatic. But I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why? Why were they the ones looking down on me? It was on that day, I think, that my heart turned to ash. I began to see my marriage for what it truly was. 9 Emma was throwing a housewarming party. I baked an apple pie and brought Ivy with me. I wasn’t expecting to see a beautifully dressed Maggie there. She wore a simple yet elegant white dress, standing among a circle of socialites, laughing and nodding along to their conversation. “Don’t get the wrong idea, I didn’t invite her,” Emma whispered in my ear. “Your darling son brought her along.” Emma and I were close, which meant our kids were too. Her daughter, Sophie, was the same age as Leo; they were practically childhood friends. Emma’s husband, Julian, had become a major player in the city’s business scene, his influence reaching every corner of Aurelia’s high society. For Maggie, getting close to Emma was a direct pipeline to the city’s elite circle of wives. Her presence here wasn’t surprising at all. “We’re not children. What is there to misunderstand?” I smiled at Emma. She seemed to relax, squeezing my hand gratefully. “Good. Just so you know, I’m always on your side.” “Aunt Stella!” a bright voice called out. It was Emma’s little princess, Sophie. I knelt down, a wide smile on my face. “Sophie! It’s been so long. How have you been?” She nodded happily. “I’m great! Aunt Stella, did you make my favorite apple pie today? I can smell it already!” “Are you part puppy? Your nose is amazing,” I teased, gently pinching her nose. “Hey, Sophie, I want you to meet a new friend today. Ivy, come over here.” The two little girls hit it off immediately, holding hands as they ran off to play in the Frozen-themed castle in the backyard, with Sophie carefully carrying her beloved apple pie. Emma watched them go, sighing. “See? Little girls are so much better behaved. Now that you have your own little princess, you’re not going to forget about my Sophie, are you? She was just saying the other day that Aunt Stella makes the best mousse cake, the best apple pie, the best banana crepes… And that princess dress you made for her school play? She said it was prettier than any dress in a fairy tale movie and refused to take it off, even for bed. She’s always saying, ‘I wish Aunt Stella was my mommy.’ Can you believe the nerve?” I shot her a look. “Just spit it out. Stop with the theatrics.” Emma dramatically threw her arms around me. “You know me too well! The school play is coming up again. Please, would you grace us with your divine talent and make another dress for my Sophie?” I chuckled. “It’s just a dress. You don’t have to lay it on so thick. You’re so dramatic.” “Hey, a custom piece from the great Stella Song is a rare treasure! I was afraid you’d say no!” I studied fashion design in college. I had a knack for it and a passion that drove me to constantly refine my skills. The clothes I made always had a unique flair, a design sensibility that rivaled international brands. And since they were custom, there was no risk of showing up in the same outfit as someone else. Over time, the socialite circle in Aurelia learned of my talent, and the requests started pouring in. But it was a hobby, not a profession, so I only took on a couple of projects a month, usually as favors for friends. As Emma and I were discussing designs, an elegant woman in a black Chanel-style suit approached us. “Excuse me, are you Mrs. Grint?” she asked me. Though I didn’t recognize her, I replied politely, “I am, but we’ve divorced. You can call me Ms. Song.” A look of embarrassment crossed her face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” “It’s alright. Can I help you with something?” She explained, “Well, I have a friend, Mrs. Sterling. Last year, her son got married, and my family and I attended the wedding. My daughter absolutely fell in love with the bride’s wedding gown. She said she’d never seen anything so ethereal and beautifully designed, even more stunning than the gowns she’d seen on runways in Europe. She found out you were the one who designed and made it, and she’s been begging me to find you ever since. Ms. Song, I know this is a long shot, but I was hoping you might consider designing a one-of-a-kind wedding dress for my daughter.” Mrs. Sterling? I remembered her. The wife of the Sterling Corp. chairman. Early last year, Adrian’s company was trying to land a major project with Sterling Corp. To help seal the deal, I had agreed to design a wedding dress for her daughter-in-law. It was an incredibly intricate piece that took me nearly four months to complete. “I’m very sorry,” I said regretfully. “For personal reasons, I’m not taking on any new projects at the moment. I don’t have the time or energy. I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you.” Her face fell. She opened her mouth to say something more, but seemed to remember my earlier words about my divorce. Her good breeding kicked in, and she simply offered a polite, strained smile. “I understand. It was presumptuous of me to ask.” 10 After the woman left, I asked Emma who she was. “No idea,” Emma said with a shrug. “I think she came with Julia, I don’t know her.” We chatted for a bit longer, and then I went to the backyard to check on the girls. What I saw made my heart leap into my throat. Leo was holding Ivy’s hand, standing at the very edge of a fifteen-foot-tall inflatable castle. They seemed to be arguing. There were no safety mats on the ground below them. They were in a dangerously precarious position. My heart skipped a beat. “Ivy!” I yelled, my voice sharp with panic. They both turned to look at me. And in that split second, disaster struck. My brain hadn’t even processed it, but my body was already moving, instincts taking over. I lunged forward. I caught Ivy in a sliding tackle, my knees scraping against the ground. Safe. She was safe. Then I heard another sickening thud. I whipped my head around. Leo was lying on the hard ground, his body twisted at an odd angle. He was staring at me, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He couldn’t seem to comprehend that I had caught someone else, and not him. The shock quickly gave way to agony. He clutched his knee, his face contorting in pain. A guttural scream tore from his throat, followed by a torrent of loud, desperate sobs. 11 At the hospital, I saw Adrian for the first time in three months. He hadn’t changed. Still tall, still handsome. For a man in his early thirties, he had it all: looks, money, a successful career. It was no wonder Maggie was so desperate to lock him down. Right now, though, his face was a dark, thunderous storm. “Stella, how did our son get hurt?” he demanded. “He fell,” I said, keeping it simple. “Why didn’t you catch him? Leo said you could have…” “I only have two hands.” “So?” “So I caught Ivy.” Adrian stared at me, his expression a mixture of shock and utter disbelief. “Are you insane? Leo is your son!” “Let me correct you,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “From the day we divorced, he stopped being my son. He’s your son. And Maggie’s.” We were standing in the hospital room. Maggie was right behind him, her face a carefully constructed mask of sorrow. But anyone could see it was fake. The avalanche incident was still a sore spot for her, and now this. In a way, it leveled the playing field between the “real mom” and the “stepmom.” Neither of us looked good. Leo lay in the bed, his leg in a cast. At my words, his lips trembled, and his eyes, red-rimmed, fixed on me. Adrian was speechless, his face frozen. “It’s getting late. I should go,” I said, turning to leave. “Don’t contact me unless it’s an emergency.” A hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “How much?” I turned back. “Stella, how much are they paying you to be a nanny? I’ll double it!” Adrian’s voice was a low growl, his grip crushing. “Can’t you even look at your own son? Do you have any idea what could have happened if he’d hit his head?” His voice rose to a roar. “Stella, are you even human? How can you call yourself a mother?” His question was so absurd, I laughed. A cold, bitter laugh. “You’re right, I’m not fit to be a mother. But you are? A perfect husband and a model father?” I met his furious gaze. “We were married for eight years, and you cheated for eight years, taking my son on yearly vacations with your mistress. When we divorced, you left me with nothing, even framing me for cheating. Adrian, your shamelessness knows no bounds.” I turned my attention to the bed. “And as for your precious son, Leo, what was it he said? That I was a crazy person no man could stand? That if he were you, he would have divorced me for Maggie too? And let’s not forget how he told me not to bother fighting anymore, because he wouldn’t choose me. He chose you, Maggie, and his grandmother.” I locked eyes with the boy in the bed. “Leo, those were your words, weren’t they? Have you forgotten so soon? Just because you’re a child doesn’t mean your words have no consequences. Our time as mother and son is over. It’s time to accept it.” Leo’s composure finally shattered. His eyes filled with tears that spilled down his cheeks. Adrian looked as though I’d struck him. “How can you say something so cruel to him? Do you know the damage you’re causing? He’s just a child, abandoned by his own mother! How is he supposed to heal from that?” Heal? I could barely heal myself. Who was I to worry about anyone else? “And what about you two?” I shot back. “The things you said, the knives you twisted in my heart, what were they? It’s okay for you to burn down my world, but I’m not allowed to light a single match? Don’t be a hypocrite, Adrian.” With that, I didn’t spare another glance for anyone in the room. I turned and walked out. Behind me, I could hear Leo’s broken sobs. I didn’t slow down. 12 I met Adrian by pure chance. After college graduation, a classmate mentioned her sister was making a fortune in sales at Grint Corporation—we’re talking tens of thousands a month. At the time, my mother was sick, and I was desperate for money. My degree was in fashion design, but a junior designer role would only pay a fraction of that. So, I applied for a sales position at Grint Corp. What happened next was completely unexpected. I was a natural. For five straight months, I was the top salesperson. One day, I found myself in the elevator with the company chairman. He was surprisingly kind and chatted with me for a few moments. Then he asked if I had a boyfriend. I was flattered and stunned, and I shyly shook my head. He then announced he wanted to set me up with someone. That someone was Adrian Grint. His son. It sounds like something out of a fantasy, but it really happened. Adrian was young and impossibly handsome, with deep, striking features. I fell for him at first sight, though I was keenly aware of the gulf between our worlds. We had a simple dinner, exchanged numbers, and that was it. Or so I thought. But Adrian actually started pursuing me. Every week, he’d text, asking me to dinner or a movie. Slowly, I fell head over heels in love. Soon, we were officially a couple. Three months later, his father was hospitalized. The diagnosis was terminal stomach cancer. Adrian took me to see him. In the hospital room, the old chairman told me many things. He wanted us to marry quickly. He hoped I would support Adrian after he was gone, and he confided in me about the struggles the company was facing. Finally, he told me that Adrian could be stubborn and headstrong, and he asked me to be patient and understanding with him. At the time, lost in the haze of new love, I didn’t fully grasp the weight of his words. I just nodded and agreed to everything. Adrian and I were married. That winter, his father passed away. The following year, my own mother died.

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The call from the travel agency came out of nowhere. They said my parents were raising hell after their round-the-world cruise, demanding a refund and even assaulting an employee. They wanted to know what I was going to do about it. But that was impossible. At that very moment, my mother was helping my father hobble out of his hospital room, asking me if the discharge papers were ready. They hadn’t gone on any trip. My dad had broken his leg right before they were supposed to leave. I hung up and turned to my husband, the one I’d sent to the agency to postpone the trip. “Craig,” I demanded, “what is going on?” He looked at me, his eyes wide with a practiced shock. “Honey, I canceled their trip, remember? Your dad’s hospital bills were piling up. Where were we going to get the money for a world cruise after all that?” A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. I didn’t even bother arguing with him. I just dialed my brother-in-law, Liam—the owner of the travel agency. “Liam, it’s Claire,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Could you do me a favor? I need you to check whose parents enjoyed the luxury cruise you booked for Mom and Dad. I think I have a homewrecker to find.” My parents had worked themselves to the bone their entire lives and never had a real vacation. When Liam, who runs Horizon Travel, found out, he gifted them a top-of-the-line, all-expenses-paid world cruise package. When my husband, Craig, first heard about it, he’d been less than thrilled. “A trip like that costs a fortune,” he’d complained. “It’s not that I can’t afford it, it’s just… unnecessary.” His words made my parents hesitate, but I finally convinced them. Then the accident happened, and the trip was off. But now, Horizon Travel was telling me my parents had just returned from their 120-day journey. And the agent on the phone was adamant; they had the right number. Something was deeply wrong. I had to go down to the agency myself. It was a weekday, so I expected it to be quiet, but the lobby was buzzing with a loud argument. I was too focused on getting answers to pay much attention. I walked straight to the front desk. “Hi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You called me a few hours ago? About my parents demanding a refund and injuring an employee?” The receptionist hesitated. “Oh, yes. There is an elderly couple causing a scene. But their daughter, a Miss Vance, is already here. She just went into the manager’s office.” “Miss Vance?” I stared at her, bewildered. “Are you sure?” She nodded toward the two people still yelling near the lounge area. “That’s what they said. They confirmed she’s their daughter. There’s no mistake.” My brow furrowed, anger starting to simmer beneath my skin. “And the personal information they provided matched the original booking exactly?” The receptionist confirmed it did. She even pulled up a short promotional video from the day of departure. “Miss Vance’s husband even dropped the couple off himself and confirmed the itinerary with us.” The moment the video played, my blood ran cold. The man on the screen, smiling and waving as the elderly couple boarded, was my husband, Craig. The rage that flooded my veins was hot and sharp. He had another wife. And he’d let her parents steal the trip of a lifetime that Liam had arranged for mine. I was going to find out exactly how Craig planned to explain this. I pulled out my phone, but before I could dial, I saw a familiar figure approaching the arguing couple. She was dressed to the nines in designer clothes, a luxury handbag swinging from her arm. “Mom, Dad, it’s all sorted,” she said sweetly. “I spoke with the manager. You’ll get your refund.” It was Vanessa. Craig’s so-called “best friend.” I marched right up to her. “Vanessa,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “how did you manage to get your parents on a cruise under my parents’ names?” She didn’t even flinch. “Claire? What are you doing here? Thinking of sending your parents on a trip, too?” A cruel smile stretched across my face. “Cut the crap. I want to know why my parents’ cruise was hijacked by yours.” I snatched the printed photos from the receptionist’s desk—stills from the departure video—and threw them at her. “And since when are they my husband’s in-laws?” My voice was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the lobby. Vanessa’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of haughty indignation. “Claire, how dare you make such baseless accusations? My husband booked this trip for my parents. It was a surprise.” She scoffed. “The most expensive package they offer. A price tag you could never afford.” She leaned in, her voice a theatrical whisper. “I told you how much my husband loves me. No matter how desperately you chase after him, you can’t make him yours.” The onlookers started murmuring, their eyes burning into me with contempt. “So she’s a psycho mistress trying to break up a marriage.” “Look at what she’s wearing versus the wife. As if she could afford a two-hundred-thousand-dollar cruise. So shameless.” I was just in sweats and a t-shirt, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t afford it. Vanessa, on the other hand, looked the part, but I knew for a fact she couldn’t even afford the bag she was carrying. Ignoring the whispers, I fixed my glare on her. “I think you’re the one who’s desperate to turn someone else’s husband into her own.” I turned back to the receptionist. “Did you actually verify their identities before they departed?” The woman was clearly annoyed. “Of course we did. Our manager handled it personally.” She pointed to a woman just coming down the stairs. “That’s her right there.” I looked over and almost laughed. The manager was one of Vanessa’s closest friends. No wonder she was so brazen. My tone sharpened. “As I recall, a trip like this has multiple identity checkpoints. Your manager may have waved them through at the start, but what about the tour guides? The cruise staff? Did no one notice the names didn’t match the passports?” The receptionist shifted uncomfortably. “Well, Mr. Cole did call ahead to inform us that his in-laws had recently changed their names and their official documents hadn’t been updated yet…” “So you did know the information didn’t match,” I cut her off, my voice rising with fury. “And you chose to look the other way. Is that it? Does anyone at this company do their job responsibly?” Vanessa shoved me hard. “Give it up, Claire. You’re just pissed you can’t afford a trip like this for your own parents, so you’re making a scene.” Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she pulled out her phone. “You know what? I’ll call my husband right now and let him put you in your place.” The contact name read ‘My Husband.’ It was Craig’s number. She put him on speakerphone, and the second he answered, she started wailing. “Craig, baby! This crazy woman, Claire, is attacking me! She’s here at the travel agency saying our parents stole the trip from hers, and she’s telling everyone that you’re her husband, not mine!” Craig’s voice erupted from the phone, laced with fury. “What? How am I not your husband? Don’t worry, babe! I’m on my way. I’ll be right there to back you up!” I couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t defending me—the wife who had stood by him, scrimped and saved with him for years while he built his business from nothing. He was defending her—the woman who had abandoned him the second she thought he was going bankrupt. Vanessa lifted her chin, a smirk playing on her lips. “Did you hear that, Claire? My husband is coming. You should probably leave now before you humiliate yourself even more.” Her arrogance was infuriating. Craig arrived in record time, storming into the lobby like a hurricane. He didn’t hesitate. He marched straight to me and slapped me across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. Then he grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the wall. “Claire! How dare you bully Vanessa!” he roared. “Now get the hell out of here!” My head exploded with pain, and black spots danced in my vision. Vanessa practically leaped into Craig’s arms, planting a loud, wet kiss on his mouth. “You’re the best, honey! She obviously came here just to harass me and my parents. She’s completely unhinged.” Craig wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back deeply. The sight sent a wave of pure, unadulterated rage through me. “Craig Cole! I am going to destroy you!” He finally pulled away from Vanessa, his eyes, when they met mine, filled with nothing but irritation. “Don’t push me, Claire. I mean it.” He gestured wildly between us. “I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m married! Stop stalking me! I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to harass my wife and her parents!” Leaning against the wall for support, the world spinning around me, I stared at the man in front of me as if he were a total stranger. This was the man who had promised to love me forever. Now he was kissing another woman in front of me and attacking me for her. The memories came flooding back, little puzzle pieces clicking into place. He had been cheating on me all along. Their “friendship” was a lie. When Vanessa left him, he’d been a wreck for months. And ever since she came back, he was suddenly working late every night, even forgetting our anniversary. I locked my eyes on his. “Craig,” I said, my voice low and trembling with fury, “I’m giving you one last chance. Tell me. Who. Is. Your. Wife.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a sneer. “Stop trying to cause trouble, Claire! You’re just trying to make my wife and her family doubt me! You’re nothing but a pathetic gold digger who won’t leave me alone now that I have money.” He wrapped a protective arm around Vanessa. “But I love my wife. And I will never, ever divorce her to marry a psycho like you.” The crowd’s whispers grew louder, their judgment like daggers. “What a leech. The poor guy.” “She’s pure evil, trying to drive a wedge between a happy family right in front of them.” For Vanessa, he would twist reality, turn me into a villain, and leave me to be devoured by strangers. But I wasn’t helpless. My voice was cold and steady. “Craig and I are the ones who are married.” I reached into my bag for our marriage certificate, but Vanessa was faster. She triumphantly produced a certificate of her own. “Does this not count as being a real wife?” she sneered. I froze, staring at the document, at their smiling faces. The world tilted on its axis. Vanessa snatched my certificate out of my hand before I could even process it. “Wow, Claire,” she said, her voice dripping with mock pity. “You’re so desperate to steal my husband, you even got a fake certificate made!” She opened it, her eyes scanning the paper with disdain. “But the official seal isn’t even right. It’s so crude.” Looking closer, I saw she was right. The embossed seal was a cheap, blurry imitation. My hand started to shake. I remembered that day at the courthouse. Just as the clerk was about to hand us the certificate, Craig had insisted I run back to the car to get something he’d forgotten. By the time I returned, he was waiting outside with the certificate, telling me it was all done. Vanessa’s laughter was a cruel, sharp sound. She threw the fake document in my face. “There. Now do you see who his wife is? I suggest you get a little self-respect and get the hell out of our lives.” She couldn’t wait to have him all to herself. Craig squeezed Vanessa’s hand. The matching wedding bands on their fingers seared into my brain. He looked at me, then turned to the manager, his voice filled with disgust. “You need to get her out of here before she completely ruins your company’s reputation with her lies.” The crowd chimed in. “Yeah, get the crazy woman out! For a second there, I almost believed the travel agency was at fault.” The manager, being Vanessa’s friend, was more than happy to oblige. “Security!” she yelled. “Get this psycho out of my lobby!” Two guards approached. Hearing the word “psycho,” they came prepared, one brandishing a stun baton. Before I could even react, a jolt of electricity shot through me, and my body convulsed. They pinned me to the floor, and once they were sure I was subdued, they started dragging me out. As they hauled me past her, Vanessa quietly circled behind me and kicked me squarely in the lower back. I stumbled forward, crashing into a luggage rack stacked high for a tour group. A cascade of suitcases rained down on me. “Oops, sorry, Claire,” Vanessa chirped, a malicious glint in her eyes. “I saw you reaching for something. I was just worried you were going for a weapon.” Craig pulled her back. “Why are you apologizing? Don’t let a lunatic like her hurt you.” I couldn’t even speak. The weight of the luggage crushed me, and a sharp, searing pain shot through my arm. Blood trickled down my forehead. I was too weak to even push the bags off me. The crowd just stood there, watching. No one moved to help. Craig just frowned, a look of pure disgust on his face. He looked almost… disappointed that the suitcases hadn’t finished the job. In that moment, any lingering love I had for him died.

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I sent a selfie to my boyfriend. “Am I pretty? Can you post a picture of me on your story?” He never replied. But five minutes later, his best friend posted my picture to his own Instagram story with the caption: “Goddamn beautiful.” 1 Jax is my boyfriend Caleb’s best friend, and we share a lot of mutual friends. So, the long string of question marks in the comments section was my first clue. This wasn’t some private joke meant only for me to see. It was public. … I don’t know Jax very well. Most of what I know comes from Caleb or other classmates. He’s from a wealthy family, incredibly smart, and that combination has given him the confidence to be arrogant, impulsive, and to do whatever he wants. But that doesn’t mean I have to tolerate this kind of nonsense. As Caleb’s girlfriend, I’ve always maintained a polite but distant relationship with his friends. I was sure I’d never done anything to offend Jax. So why was he publicly humiliating me like this? And how did he get a photo that I sent privately to Caleb? A storm of questions brewed inside me as my trembling fingers opened my chat with Jax and hit the call button. No answer. I frowned, and just as I was putting my phone down, a call from my best friend, Christina, burst onto the screen. “Ava! You need to get to The Brew & Bookmark on campus, now! Caleb and Jax are fighting! It’s brutal! Hurry!” 2 When I got to the cafe, classes were in session, but a massive crowd was still gathered outside, packed three deep. The moment they saw me, the buzz of conversation died down. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, creating a path for me as all eyes followed my every move. I ignored their strange looks and pushed my way into the cafe. Inside, the elegant space was a disaster zone of overturned tables and chairs. It was obvious a violent brawl had just taken place. The two responsible for the chaos, Caleb and Jax, had matching bruises and cuts, but both appeared unnervingly calm. In fact, amidst the wreckage, they were both methodically straightening their clothes. It was hard to say who had won the fight. Judging by his more severe injuries, Caleb had lost. But he had a delicate-looking girl by his side, which felt like a win of its own. She was wearing a white dress, and tears streamed from her wide, innocent eyes like broken strings of pearls. She was carefully dabbing at the blood on Caleb’s face with a tissue. Of course, I recognized her. She was Lily, the star of our university’s dance department. And Caleb’s childhood friend. The first time I became aware of her was when I saw that Caleb had a single red heart emoji as her contact name. When I asked him about it, he explained that her last name was Hart, and that all her friends saved her contact that way as an inside joke. He said it wasn’t a big deal, just a small thing to make his friend happy. I’d chosen to believe him, though not without a sliver of doubt. Now, seeing her crouched so intimately beside him, weeping, I knew my trust had been misplaced. … Lily’s animosity towards me was palpable. Her eyes were practically dripping venom as she ran up to me, jabbing a finger in my face and launching into a tirade from her self-appointed moral high ground. “Ava, how can you even show your face here? You have Caleb, so why can’t you just appreciate him? Does it make you feel special, playing with two men at once? Does it excite you? Jax and Caleb are best friends!” Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but the words spilling from her pretty mouth were sharp enough to cut. Her voice was so shrill it made my ears ring. I rubbed my ear and calmly pushed her hand away from my face. “Did no one ever teach you any manners?” “You think you’re so high and mighty? A woman who messes around with her boyfriend’s best friend has no right to talk about manners.” Her anger escalated, and she raised her other hand to slap me. I narrowed my eyes, catching her wrist in a firm grip and flinging it away. What was this, some kind of drama? The fragile damsel bravely defending her man against the two-timing villainess? “Are you a dancer or a chef? Because you seem to have a real talent for stirring up drama,” I said, my voice dripping with scorn. I’d pushed her harder than I intended, and she stumbled back, her eyes welling up with fresh tears. “Caleb, did you see that? She…” I rolled my eyes. From the sidelines, Jax, who had been calmly fixing his collar, let out an ill-timed, soft chuckle. My head snapped in his direction. He had already composed himself, back to his usual suave, almost villainous charm. He walked over slowly, his presence like a physical weight, and stood behind me like a mountain. Jax’s voice was lazy, but when he looked at Caleb, it was laced with steel. “Caleb, are you just going to let your girl run wild like this?” Lily, ever the opportunist, softened her tone considerably when she turned to Jax. “Jax, what has this woman done to you? Why are you still defending her? You and Caleb have been friends for years. Is that worth less than some girl? I always thought you were different from her, that you were at least reasonable!” She was a master at the art of putting one person down to lift another up. Unfortunately for her, she’d picked the wrong target. Jax took a deliberate step back, a look of disgust on his face, as if he were afraid of being hit by her spittle. The move made Lily flush with embarrassment and awkwardly wipe her mouth. He was completely unmoved by her attempt at moral blackmail. “Don’t try that with me. Every dog in a five-mile radius of my house knows I don’t play by the rules. You’re wasting your breath talking about being ‘reasonable.’ “This mess is on us. Ava didn’t do anything. If we’re talking about who’s in the right here, it’s her. And let’s be real. You get to run crying to Caleb, so why can’t I be here to back Ava up? Let me make it crystal clear: whether or not I’m ‘reasonable’ with you depends entirely on her. Today, my only job is to be on her side, whether she’s being reasonable or not. Got it?” He spoke quickly, but his logic was sharp and his tone was absolute, leaving no room for argument. Caleb looked over, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. I guessed he had no idea when Jax and I had become so close. To be honest, neither did I. In my confusion, a strange warmth spread through me. After my parents died, I lived with my uncle, and I was forced to grow up faster than other kids my age. I was used to facing things alone. But to have someone so unapologetically in my corner… Even though I didn’t know why, my heart trembled. … Without a word, Caleb stood up, grabbed Lily’s slender wrist, and pulled her behind him, completely ignoring my presence. His actions were a silent confirmation that Lily was, indeed, “his girl.” He rubbed his temples, his voice weary. “Lily, stop it. Ava isn’t the kind of person you’re making her out to be.” One was an intimate “Lily,” the other was a formal “Ava.” In a single sentence, Caleb had drawn a clear line between us. Suddenly, my earlier concern that Jax’s actions might embarrass him felt foolish. Through the glass window, I could see the crowd of students still watching, some even taking pictures with their phones. I didn’t have to guess what would happen next. Soon, the story of how Caleb, the star of the law school, protected his childhood sweetheart in front of his girlfriend would be all over the campus social media pages. Had he even considered my feelings at all? 3 I took two deep breaths, trying to keep my composure as I walked over to Caleb. He sat in a chair, his back perfectly straight, still projecting that image of cool detachment. He wouldn’t look at me. But I needed an explanation. “Caleb, the Instagram story, and what I just saw… do you have anything to say to me?” A ten-second silence stretched between us. “What you saw is what you saw,” he finally said. “I have nothing to explain.” His tone was completely dismissive. The subtext was clear: Take it or leave it. If you can handle it, we can stay together. If not, get lost. So much for the idea that a girl’s pursuit is always successful. The truth is, in any relationship, if the girl is the one who initiates everything, it’s bound to end in disaster. My chest heaved with a breath I couldn’t control. “Nothing to explain?” The words caught in my throat, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Then let’s break up.” “Fine. Whatever you want.” His voice was devoid of any emotion. It reminded me of the day I confessed my feelings to him. I had rehearsed what I was going to say for three days straight, and I was so nervous I could barely speak. In the end, all I got was a lukewarm, “Okay, let’s give it a try.” I stared at the top of his head for three long seconds. Then, I turned and walked away. 4 As I stepped out of the cafe, a breeze seemed to follow me, drying the unshed tears at the corners of my eyes. Jax jogged up to my side, a playful smile on his face. He tugged on the corner of my sleeve as if we were old friends. “Hey, let’s walk together.” I was certain he knew exactly how handsome he was and was deliberately flaunting it. Like right now. He had meticulously straightened his clothes, but he’d left the smear of dried blood at the corner of his mouth untouched. Paired with the slight redness around his eyes, it gave him a rugged, “beautifully broken” kind of look. My feelings toward the instigator of this whole mess were complicated. I wasn’t an idiot. The moment I walked in and saw Lily at Caleb’s side, I understood. Caleb was too busy with his “friend” to reply to my message, and Jax, seeing this, decided to give me a heads-up in his own chaotic way. His methods were bizarre, but his intentions seemed to be good. It was a rare thing to find someone with a conscience in Caleb’s circle. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Nowhere. Just walking for a bit?” “Okay.” His smile widened, and he fell into step behind me, looking pleased with himself. … Walking away from that disaster scene with the notoriously popular Jax Sterling at my side meant we were turning heads everywhere we went. The stares were starting to annoy me, but they also reminded me of something. “By the way, you should delete that story.” “Can I not?” “You can, but then I’ll have to slap you.” Faced with my unwavering resolve, he reluctantly pulled out his phone and deleted the post. He was nearly six-foot-three, but with his slumped shoulders and pout, he looked like a dejected puppy. It reminded me of my grandmother’s big golden retriever, chained to the gate and whining because he couldn’t get to the table scraps. He’s like a big dog, the strange thought flitted through my mind before I pushed it away. When we reached the campus gate, I turned to him. “Well, I’m heading home. Thanks for everything today, really.” It was a polite, almost perfunctory thank you, but his convoluted mind managed to turn it into something more. “Why are you thanking me? It was my duty.” 5 It took just over an hour. Screenshots of Jax’s story, videos of the fight in the cafe, and photos of Caleb shielding Lily in front of me flooded the campus forums. The threads exploded with comments. Headlines like “The Ultimate Love Quadrangle: A Saga of Unrequited Love” were popping up everywhere. It was absurd. So, the first thing my gossip-loving best friend, Christina, said when she got back to our apartment was: “Ava, have you seen the forums? Those people are ruthless. The paparazzi could learn a thing or two from them.” I scoffed, turning my attention back to my listening comprehension exercises. “A bunch of psychos.” Just before I put my headphones back on, I saw Christina give me a thumbs-up, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “I was totally prepared to skip my 8 a.m. class tomorrow to take you out for a night of drunken debauchery, or to help you hunt down that cheating bastard and his side piece. But here you are, studying like nothing even happened… Ava, you’re a true career-driven queen. Seriously impressive.” She paused. “But, girl, you’re acting way too calm. Is it possible that you never really liked Caleb in the first place?” My pen froze. … Caleb was my first love. It was love at first sight, or something close to it. I met him during my freshman orientation week when I injured myself and had to go to the campus health center. The nurse on duty was clearly jaded from seeing countless minor injuries. She was rough with the antiseptic and her tone was sharp. When she was cleaning my wound, I flinched from the pain, and she immediately launched into a lecture. “I’m trying to treat you, what are you pulling away for? You girls are all the same, spoiled by your parents before you get to college. You’re too delicate. Let me tell you, no one’s going to coddle you here!” She had no way of knowing. My parents died when I was very young. There were no parents to coddle me. I was simply afraid of pain. Losing your parents shouldn’t mean you lose the right to feel pain, should it? Being scolded like that on my third day in a new city, thinking about my mom and dad… a wave of misery washed over me. But my past was a wound I never showed to anyone. This time was no different. I bit my lip, turned my head away, and swallowed the tears and the pain. That’s when I saw him. Caleb was standing nearby, a volunteer for the week. He wore a simple white t-shirt and had an air of quiet confidence about him. He looked at me with calm, indifferent eyes. Then he walked over. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to the nurse. “Her cut does look pretty deep. If you could, maybe be a little more gentle.” He paused. “It’s not easy for anyone, leaving home for the first time.” At the time, Caleb was only a year older than me, but he had a maturity that was rare in our peers. He spoke calmly and considerately, never sounding accusatory, and his words had a way of making you listen. The nurse actually blushed a little. As I felt her touch become gentler, I looked up at Caleb, grateful. The fluorescent lights of the clinic softened the sharp, handsome lines of his face. He offered me a small, polite smile. In that moment, a strange feeling filled my chest. I think that’s when I fell for him. … That night, before we went to sleep, Christina and I had our usual late-night chat. She grilled me about Jax, then sighed. “Caleb seemed like such a great guy. How did he change so fast?” I thought for a moment, then laughed softly. “He didn’t. I did.” 6 The next morning was our 8 a.m. elective, a uniquely popular course at our university: “The Theory and Practice of Modern Relationships.” I only got into the class thanks to Christina’s lightning-fast reflexes and kind heart. When I arrived, right on time, the large lecture hall was already packed. The class was so popular that many students audited it, and latecomers usually ended up sitting on the steps. Resigned to my fate, I was about to find a spot on the floor when I saw a hand wave lazily at me from the back row. It was Jax. My eyes lit up, and without a moment’s hesitation, I made my way towards him. Only a fool would turn down an open seat just to avoid rumors. I had barely sat down and dropped my bag when the professor called his name. “Jax Sterling.” “Here.” The professor looked surprised. “Well, this is a rare sight. What brings you to class today, Mr. Sterling? Didn’t you say you could ace this course without ever showing up?” Jax was handsome, smart, and well-liked on campus. Even the professors had a soft spot for him. He chuckled, a lazy, carefree sound, and shot back without missing a beat, “I missed you, professor.” The professor laughed, her eyes scanning the room. “I think you missed one of the pretty girls in this class more than you missed me.” The entire class erupted in a wave of whoops and whistles, and all heads turned towards the back row. Naturally, all eyes landed on me as well. I ignored their curious stares and calmly took out my vocabulary notebook. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flash a devil-may-care smile. “Yeah, I did. That’s why I’m here. We’re aiming for a perfect score on the final project together.” 7 I could pretend I didn’t hear his flirty comments. But I couldn’t ignore the way he spent the entire class with his head propped on his hand, his bright eyes fixed on me. Halfway through the lecture, I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped my notebook shut and hissed, “Have you seen enough?” “Nope. I could look at you all day.” I was speechless. “So, what’s your deal? The Instagram story, saving me a seat… Are you doing this because you feel sorry for me, or what?” “What do you mean, ‘or what’?” he said, finishing the thought I’d left hanging. “Of course, I’m trying to win you over.” He held up a notebook to shield us from the professor’s view and leaned closer, his eyes wide and earnest. “I thought I was being pretty obvious. Was it that hard to guess?” I subtly scooted away. “I just broke up with your best friend yesterday. Don’t you think it’s a little twisted for you to be hitting on me today?” “Is it? I thought your ‘single’ status was effective immediately. The fact that I waited a whole day to tell you how I feel shows incredible self-restraint, don’t you think?”

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I had been a Prescott for eighteen years when a girl claiming to be the real Prescott daughter threw herself in front of our car. She lay sprawled on the asphalt, her sobs a theatrical performance meant for an audience of our tinted windows. Between gasps, she accused me, the impostor, of stealing the life that should have been hers. After the DNA test, my own brother, who’d never shown me a shred of genuine affection, suddenly became her staunchest ally. Together, they twisted truths into lies, painting me as the villain in a story I hadn’t even known I was in. In my last life, their campaign of whispers and accusations worked. My father, his face a mask of fury, cast me out of the family. When I returned to my supposed birth family, the Moores, their eyes held nothing but contempt for me. It didn’t end there. Ivy, the real daughter, sent men to break what was left of me, over and over again. Unable to bear it, I stepped off the edge of a skyscraper and let the city swallow me whole. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that same day, with Ivy blocking our car. I saw the raw hatred in her eyes, the same hatred that had haunted my final moments. I took a breath, my voice steady. “Then let’s all get a DNA test.” 1 “What are you trying to say?” Ivy shot back, her face flushed with anger. “Are you saying I’m a liar? Or are you just so entitled you can’t accept that I’m the one who was supposed to have your life?” Beside me, Carter was slouched in his seat, scrolling on his phone. “This is such a drag,” he muttered. “Finding out my sister is a fake on a Tuesday.” I shrugged, turning my gaze to the man in the front passenger seat. “Father, I think it’s best for everyone if we all get tested. That way, there’s no room for doubt. The science doesn’t lie.” My father was silent for a long moment, his stony profile reflected in the window. Then, a curt nod. “Audrey is right. You,” he said, gesturing vaguely at Ivy, “will come with us. You’ll both be tested.” With his verdict delivered, I said nothing more. I simply shifted closer to my mother, making room for Ivy to climb into the car. I knew how this family worked. Father was the judge, jury, and executioner. No matter how shocked my mother was, no matter how her heart might bleed for this girl claiming to be her long-lost child, she would always defer to him. Ivy scrambled up from the pavement and slid into the car. She was covered in dust, her frame so thin she looked like a strong wind could snap her in two. The grime of her journey clung to her, and I saw my mother’s brow furrow for a split second before she leaned away, pressing herself against the opposite window. We arrived at the hospital—the Prescott Wing, to be precise. As the phlebotomist prepared the needles, Ivy looked at my mother with wide, pleading eyes, a silent beg for comfort. But she misjudged her audience. My mother was a Prescott, raised on silk and silver spoons. She had never encountered anyone who looked like Ivy. Without the certainty of a blood tie, all she could feel was a vague revulsion, not a flicker of maternal sympathy. “Audrey Prescott!” Ivy hissed at me, her voice low and sharp. Then her expression shifted, morphing into a sneer of arrogant certainty. “Just wait until those results come back. You’ll see what I do to you.” I didn’t answer. My heart was hammering against my ribs. This was a gamble. I was betting that I was also a Prescott. That the child the Moores had swapped into this life of luxury wasn’t me. In my past life, it had always puzzled me. When I returned to the Moores, I’d tried my best. I never complained about their small, rural house. I helped with chores, with the farm work, trying to earn my place. But it never mattered. Their gazes were always cold, tinged with a resentment I couldn’t understand. I assumed it was because I’d been thrown out by the Prescotts, penniless and disgraced. But one night, Mr. Moore got drunk. He stumbled into the living room and pointed a slurring finger at me. “Thank God it was you who came back,” he’d mumbled, before his wife rushed in, her eyes wide with panic, and clamped a hand over his mouth. That’s when I knew something was wrong. But by the time I tried to investigate, Ivy had already blocked every path, ensuring I was trapped, powerless, in that forgotten town. This time, I was back. And I was willing to bet everything, even if I was wrong. Because my father had invested heavily in this hospital, the results that should have taken days were ready in under an hour. When the doctor emerged holding the files, Ivy rushed toward him. “Doctor, what does it say?” The doctor ignored her, addressing my father directly. “Mr. Prescott, the results are in. This report confirms that Ms. Ivy Moore is, indeed, your and Mrs. Prescott’s biological daughter.” Ivy’s eyes shot to mine, gleaming with triumph. A second later, the look vanished, replaced by a mask of tearful vulnerability as she turned to my mother. “Mom, Dad… I finally found you.” My mother’s composure finally cracked. She pulled Ivy into a hug, her voice thick with emotion. “My dear girl. You must have suffered so much.” Carter shoved me aside, rushing to Ivy’s side. “So you’re my real sister! I knew it! The first time I saw you, I felt a connection. Nothing like her.” He jerked his head in my direction. My father’s expression remained unreadable, but I saw a flicker of something—pity, perhaps—in his eyes. I stood my ground, my voice calm as I looked at the doctor. “What about the other report?” Ivy spoke up quickly. “It’s already been proven that I’m their daughter. We don’t need to see yours.” She tried to pull away from my mother’s embrace, but the doctor was faster. He placed both reports directly into my father’s hands. “This report,” the doctor stated clearly, “shows that Ms. Audrey Prescott is also your and Mrs. Prescott’s biological daughter.” “What? That’s impossible! You must have made a mistake!” Ivy’s face twisted into a mask of rage, her shriek echoing down the sterile, empty hallway. My father scanned the papers, his brow furrowed. “Doctor, what does this mean?” “Mr. Prescott, the equipment you funded for this lab is state-of-the-art. There is no possibility of error. The reports show that both young women are your biological daughters. The results are conclusive.” “Audrey Prescott! This was you, wasn’t it!” Ivy looked feral, breaking free from my mother’s arms and lunging for me. “You paid him off! You bribed the doctor!” I flinched back, looking at my father with wide, wounded eyes. “Father, I didn’t… you know I would never have the courage to do something like that.” My father’s face hardened as he looked at Ivy. “That is enough. This behavior is unbecoming.” His sharp tone made Ivy freeze, her hands dropping away from my collar. I nearly stumbled. “Audrey has always been a well-behaved child,” he continued, his voice cold as steel. “Top of her class. She is not capable of such a thing. I know my daughter.” Vindicated, I lowered my head and smoothed the wrinkles Ivy had made in my dress. He despised public displays of disorder. “Mom only had two children,” Ivy muttered, her mind racing. “If I’m her daughter, and Audrey is too… does that mean Carter isn’t?” Her words were a spark in the dark. Of course. That’s why the Moores hated me. Their ambition was bigger than I ever imagined. They hadn’t just swapped a daughter out; they’d swapped their son in. I immediately seized the opening. “Maybe… we should test Carter, too.” “Are you insane, Audrey?” Carter, who had been enjoying the show, finally snapped to attention. “Just because you managed to stay a Prescott, you’re going to drag me into this?” I looked at him, my expression one of pure innocence. “But we’re twins, Carter. Born at practically the same time. If it could happen to one of us, it could have happened to you, too.” Carter laughed, a short, ugly sound. “No one is that stupid. To swap a boy for a girl.” But my father wasn’t listening to him. A businessman never overlooks a potential liability. I heard him give the doctor a quiet, firm order. “Draw his blood.”

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