Category: English

In the quiet of the ultrasound room, I heard my two babies arguing. A soft, sweet voice whimpered, [Sister, you’re squishing me.] A fierce one shot back, [Back off, this is my space!] My heart leaped. “Is it twins?” I asked the doctor, my voice trembling with excitement. But the doctor only glanced at my husband standing behind me before shaking his head. “Mrs. Sterling, you’re mistaken. There’s only one gestational sac.” My husband, Ethan, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his voice a warm smile. “See? You’re so excited you’re seeing things.” Was I? But I had clearly heard that fierce little voice sneer, [He knows what’s good for him. If he’d spilled the beans, Dad wouldn’t have let him get away with it.] 1 Back home, I sat on the sofa, the words he knows what’s good for him echoing in my mind. Dad? Which dad? I rested a hand on my stomach, my palm cold as ice. A terrible thought began to take root in the pit of my stomach. Ethan walked over with a glass of warm milk, placing it gently beside my hand. “What’s wrong? Still thinking about twins?” he murmured. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you. The doctor said there’s just one. Let’s focus on keeping this one healthy and safe.” His smile was so tender, his eyes filled with the same adoration I’d fallen in love with. I lowered my gaze to hide the chill in my own eyes and obediently picked up the glass. [Hypocrite.] Lifting the milk, I asked with feigned casualness, “Ethan, a friend of mine is pregnant too, and she’s having twins. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had two babies?” I watched his face, refusing to miss a single flicker of emotion. For a fraction of a second, the hand holding his own glass tightened. It was almost imperceptible. “Twins are too high-risk,” he said, his voice still gentle but strained around the edges. “All I want is for you and our baby to be safe.” I looked down, a cold, invisible smile touching my lips. I see. That night, I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep. Ethan tiptoed into the room, assuming I was lost to the world. He stood by the bed for a long time, so long that my facade almost cracked. Then, I felt his cool fingers rest on my belly. It wasn’t the loving touch of a father-to-be. His fingers moved with the cold precision of an assessment, tracing my skin inch by inch, as if he were measuring, calculating. I went rigid, not daring to breathe. The soft, sweet voice whimpered again, full of tears. [Sister, I’m scared…] The fierce, masculine voice was instantly reassuring. [Don’t be. I’m here.] Then, he spoke to the other baby in my womb. [You’d better lie low, too. Don’t let him find you.] My heart plummeted. Him? Who was him? Ethan? What could he find? Just then, I heard Ethan let out the softest sigh, a sound thick with regret, before he turned and left the room. My eyes flew open. I touched the spot where his hand had been. It was cold as stone. Two days later, Ethan presented me with a new phone. “Less radiation. It’s better for the baby,” he said with a smile. I stared at the basic feature phone, capable of nothing more than calls and texts, and laughed inwardly. Less radiation, or easier to monitor? He took my old smartphone and, with practiced ease, wiped it clean. “Out with the old, in with the new.” He said it so casually, as if he were just throwing out trash. My heart sank a little deeper. A few days after that, my mother-in-law—the matriarch of the Sterling family—moved into our villa. She didn’t come alone. She brought an entire entourage: a nutritionist, a nanny, and two stone-faced bodyguards. The official reason was to take better care of me. “Ava, from this day forward, your meals will be prepared by Mrs. Davis. She is the best prenatal nutritionist in the field,” my mother-in-law announced from the sofa, her tone leaving no room for argument. I looked at the woman, Mrs. Davis, who pushed her glasses up her nose, her eyes sharp and clinical. My life was no longer my own. I couldn’t go out. I couldn’t see my friends. My world had shrunk to the walls of this house. Ethan came home every evening, showering me with affection and concern. But to my ears, his sweet words were coated in poison. 2 The fierce baby seemed to sense the escalating danger. [That old witch is up to no good.] [She’s putting something in your soup. Small doses, but she never stops.] My hand, holding the soup bowl, was steady as a rock. I even managed a placating smile for my mother-in-law. “Thank you, Mother. The soup is delicious.” As I drank, I watched her from the corner of my eye. A satisfied smile spread across her lips. I tilted my head back and finished every last drop. Then, excusing myself to the bathroom, I ran inside, jammed my fingers down my throat, and forced myself to throw it all up. I didn’t stop until my stomach was empty, heaving with nothing but bitter acid. I collapsed onto the cold tile floor. I couldn’t just wait for them to act. I had to contact the outside world. I remembered a spare phone I’d hidden in an old suitcase, tucked away in the back of my walk-in closet. During a shift change for the bodyguards, I slipped into the closet and locked the door. I found the phone. Thank God, it still had a charge. My hands trembled as I dialed my best friend, Zoe. She picked up on the first ring. “Hello? Ava?” The moment I heard her voice, tears welled in my eyes. “Zoe, I…” I only managed to get two words out before the closet door was kicked open. My mother-in-law stood in the doorway, flanked by her two bodyguards, a glacial smile on her face. “Ava. Who are you calling?” She advanced on me, the sharp click-clack of her heels on the hardwood floor echoing the frantic hammering of my heart. I instinctively tried to hide the phone behind my back. She gave me no time to react. With a single glance, a bodyguard lunged forward and brutally snatched the phone from my hand. My mother-in-law took it, her eyes falling on the name on the screen. “Zoe?” She let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. “It seems I’ve been too soft on you. You’ve forgotten your place.” Then, right in front of me, she threw the phone to the floor. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks. Still not satisfied, she lifted her foot and ground it under the heel of her expensive, custom-made shoe. “I will eliminate anyone, and anything, that might distract you from a healthy pregnancy.” With that, she turned and walked away, as if the vicious woman from a moment ago had never existed. I stared at the mangled remains of the phone, the blood in my veins turning to ice. I was well and truly a prisoner. That evening, when Ethan came home, his mother told him everything. I thought he might say something, anything, in my defense. But he just listened in silence before walking over and crouching in front of me. “Ava, Mom just has your best interests at heart. The most important thing for you right now is to rest and focus on the baby. Don’t overthink things.” His voice was as gentle as water, but it sent a chill straight to my bones. I looked at him, my own voice low and deliberate. “Ethan, I am your wife. Not a broodmare for your family.” A crack appeared in his gentle facade. “How can you think that? I love you, Ava.” [Love? His love is locking you up and plotting to kill one of your children,] the fierce baby sneered in my mind. I closed my eyes, unable to look at his deceitful face any longer. From that day on, the surveillance tightened. The two bodyguards were stationed outside my bedroom door, day and night. I couldn’t even close the bathroom door. So I started a hunger strike. It was the only form of protest I had left. On the first day, my mother-in-law watched with cold indifference. On the second, she resorted to threats. “Ava, don’t push your luck. If you harm my grandchild, I will make your entire family pay the price.” My parents were my only weakness. My eyes turned red. “You wouldn’t dare!” “Try me.” 3 She threw a file onto the table. “That little diner your parents own… it seems they’ve had some trouble passing recent health inspections.” I trembled with rage. I had to give in. I started eating again, but every bite felt like swallowing shards of glass. I had to find a way out. I couldn’t let them win. A plan slowly began to form in my mind. That afternoon, when the nanny wasn’t looking, I quietly poured some shower gel on the bathroom floor. Then, with a carefully timed “accident,” I slipped and fell, hard. “Ah!” I let out a piercing scream, clutching my stomach. The nanny’s face went white with terror. She shrieked and ran for help. In moments, Ethan and his mother burst in. Seeing me on the floor, a faint stain of blood spreading beneath me, Ethan’s face turned ashen. “Quick! Call the family doctor!” his mother yelled. My heart sank. The family doctor. Again. I had been betting on their panic, hoping they would rush me to the nearest public hospital. I lost the bet. But my mind was already racing, trying to figure out how to use this “injury” to create my next opportunity. Dr. Evans, the family doctor, arrived quickly. He ran a series of checks, then turned to Ethan and his mother with a grave expression. “Madam, Sir, the fall was quite serious. It has stressed the pregnancy. She needs immediate bed rest. I recommend we start an IV drip with nutrients to stabilize the fetus.” I lay on the bed, my body cold with dread. I heard the fierce voice in my womb curse furiously. [You idiot! Did you really think they were fools? A stunt like this will only make them tighten their grip!] I closed my eyes in despair. The cold liquid snaked its way down the tube and into my veins. A powerful wave of drowsiness washed over me. My eyelids grew heavy. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard the soft, sweet voice cry out, [Sister, I don’t feel good… My body is so hot…] It was followed by a furious, masculine roar. [Damn it! They’re drugging us! This medicine… it’s meant for me! They’re trying to kill me!] My consciousness drifted in a black void, but my body felt like it was on fire. No, I can’t sleep. With every ounce of strength I had, I bit down hard on my tongue. The sharp pain shocked me back to a sliver of clarity. I forced my eyes open. The room was empty. On the back of my hand, the cool liquid was still flowing into my bloodstream. This was it. The thing that was trying to kill my child. With my free hand, I trembled, then ripped the needle from my skin. The pain was blinding, and a searing heat shot through my veins. I ignored it, scrambling off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face again and again, fighting to stay awake. The drug was potent. My body grew hotter, but my limbs were turning to lead. Inside me, the fierce voice was growing weaker. [Hang on… you stupid woman… don’t fall asleep…] I slid down the cold wall to the floor, gasping for air. It wasn’t long before I heard hurried footsteps outside. “Ava! Open the door! Ava!” It was Ethan, his voice laced with panic. I didn’t make a sound. “Break it down!” his mother shrieked. With a deafening crash, the bathroom door splintered open. 4 Ethan rushed in. When he saw me slumped on the floor, the pool of blood at his feet, and the discarded IV needle on the bed, his face twisted into an ugly mask. He strode forward and grabbed my arm. “Ava! Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His grip was crushing. I looked up at his face, a canvas of feigned “concern” and “rage,” and I started to laugh. “What am I doing? Ethan, why don’t you ask yourself what you’re doing?” I pointed to the IV bag still hanging by the bed. “What’s in there? Nutrients? Do you take me for a fool?” “What is it?! Why are you trying to kill our child?!” I screamed the words. Ethan’s expression froze, the panic in his eyes swiftly replaced by a look of profound hurt. “Ava, calm down. It’s not what you think.” He tried to pull me into an embrace, but I shoved him away. “Not what I think? Then what is it? Tell me!” His mother stood in the doorway, watching our performance with cold detachment. “Ethan, why are you wasting your breath on her? If she wants to die, then let her—” “Mom!” Ethan cut her off sharply, shooting her a warning glance. Her face tightened, but she fell silent, though the venom in her eyes remained. Ethan turned back to me, his features contorting into a mask of anguish. He knelt, taking my hands in his, his voice hoarse. “Ava, I’m sorry. I’ve been hiding something from you.” “We are having twins.” My heart skipped a beat. “But…” He took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes turning red. “We ran the most advanced genetic screening… and we discovered that… the boy… he has a severe congenital heart defect.” “The doctors said he wouldn’t live past his first birthday. And his presence in the womb is putting the other, healthy baby at risk. It’s even putting you at risk.” “So… we made the decision… to only keep the healthy one.” He delivered the lines with tears in his eyes, but I could feel the smug triumph hidden deep beneath the surface.

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1 I pulled my in-laws from the mudslide’s grip, hauling them onto the speedboat. Just as I caught my breath, a deafening roar split the sky. A swarm of my husband Roger’s industrial drones was diving right for us. High above, in his helicopter, he had his arm around his young assistant, watching the show with a smirk. The drones’ propellers churned the river into a vicious vortex, threatening to swallow our small boat whole. I frantically dialed his number. “Roger, are you insane? Your parents are on this boat!” A light chuckle came through the phone. “A year ago, Lila’s parents were trapped in a flash flood. You were the rescue captain, but you saved everyone else and left them to die.” “Today,” he purred, “I’m going to let you taste what it feels like to watch your family get swallowed whole.” His assistant, Lila, squealed in delight. “You’re amazing, Roger! I want to see those old geezers dragged to the bottom of the river!” The speedboat bucked violently. My in-laws clung to me, their bodies trembling. I screamed into the phone, “Roger, look closer! It’s your mother and father on this boat!” … “Still playing these stupid games, Rhea?” he scoffed. “My parents went to the chapel at Crestview Mountain for a spiritual retreat today. I dropped them at the airport myself this morning. Maybe use your brain before you start lying?” Lila snatched the phone from him. “This is what you get, Rhea! It’s karma! You let my parents die, and now you and those two old imposters can go straight to hell and keep them company!” I wanted to have my in-laws explain, to shout their identities into the phone. But they were shivering uncontrollably, their faces caked in mud, their hair plastered to their skulls in tangled knots. In their wretched state, they were unrecognizable. “You’re both completely insane!” I roared, hanging up the phone. There was no time. Any more delay and the boat would capsize. My mother-in-law’s face was a mask of pale terror as she gripped my arm. “Rhea, what’s wrong with Roger? He wouldn’t really kill us, would he? I’m his mother!” My father-in-law, a stoic man his entire life, was just as pale. I had no time to comfort them. The slightest mistake now meant we’d all be dead. The drones were creating a powerful vortex, a whirlpool trying to suck us down. “Hold on tight!” I yelled, slamming the throttle forward. Just then, a drone swooped in low. A propeller blade sliced across my cheek. “Blood! Rhea, your face!” my mother-in-law shrieked. My father-in-law roared at the sky, “Roger, you monster! That’s your wife!” I gritted my teeth, the movement pulling at the fresh wound. Damn, that hurt. Roger’s cold laughter boomed from the helicopter’s loudspeaker. “Still got the energy to curse me? Looks like you two old fools are tired of living!” The swarm of drones slammed into us. The boat rocked so violently it almost threw us into the churning water. The river poured over the sides, and the bow of the speedboat plunged beneath the surface. As we were about to be dragged under, my mother-in-law let out a scream of pure despair. The next second, a grappling hook shot down from Roger’s helicopter, clamping firmly onto the bow. My phone rang again. It was Roger. I immediately put it on speaker. “Scared yet? Sign the document in your email right now, and maybe I’ll let you live.” What in the world could he want so badly? I pulled out my phone to check. When I opened the email, my blood ran cold. It was a waiver, admitting I had intentionally abandoned the rescue of Lila’s parents and accepting full legal responsibility for all casualties in the disaster a year ago. But the flash flood was caused by Roger’s company cutting corners and violating safety codes, destabilizing the entire mountainside. Now he wanted to make me his scapegoat, and hand Lila a massive settlement in the process? If I signed this, I’d spend the rest of my life in prison. My mother-in-law leaned over, her body shaking as she read the screen. She broke down, sobbing. “That monster! How did we raise such a heartless beast?” she wailed. “He’s trying to kill his own wife, his own parents, all for that little tramp!” My father-in-law grabbed my phone and pointed it at the helicopter, his voice raw with fury. “Roger, you soulless bastard! Look at me! I’m your father! Are you going to kill your own mother and father?” “You get down here right now! I will never let my daughter-in-law sign that piece of trash!” A wave of warmth and sorrow washed over me. In three years of marriage, they had always treated me like their own daughter. But Roger just laughed. “You senile old bastard, you still think you can impersonate my father? You must be desperate to live, huh? My father is a Thorne. You think he’d be a filthy, mud-caked beggar like you? Rhea, I’m warning you, don’t push me! Sign it! My patience is running out!” Several drones revved their engines, their sharp propellers spinning towards us. One of them sliced into my father-in-law’s arm, opening a gash so deep I could see bone. “Have you made up your mind? If not, I can just send you all to hell to think it over!” “Richard!” my mother-in-law screamed, scrambling to press her hands against his bleeding wound. I stared up at Roger’s drone fleet, my gaze like ice. “Roger, you really think you’ve won, don’t you?” He snorted. “Still acting tough when you’re about to die? Your lives are in my hands!” I slowly shook my head. “You’re just a puppet, letting someone pull your strings while you convince yourself you’re avenging a lost love.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m saying you’re going to regret this. Very soon.” Lila’s shrill voice cut in. “Roger, darling, don’t listen to her lies! She’s just trying to stall for time! Kill her! Kill her now!” That was all it took. Roger’s patience snapped. “Fine! You want to do this the hard way? Then do it!” Dozens of drones simultaneously extended sharp, metallic prods. These were industrial-grade machines; a single one could punch right through our hull. I reached into my emergency pack and pulled out an object. BANG! A flare shot into the sky. Roger erupted in laughter. “A flare gun? Hahahahaha… Rhea, did the river water rot your brain? I’ve jammed every signal in this area. You could shoot a hole in the sky and no one would come to save you!” The wind howled, whipping the waves into a frenzy. My in-laws closed their eyes, their faces etched with despair. I watched the flare reach its apex and explode in a shower of sparks. “Roger,” I said, my voice calm, “do you have any idea what level of jammer is built into this flare gun?” He paused, confused. Before he could ask what I meant, his entire drone fleet went haywire. One by one, the drones faltered, then dropped from the sky like stones, sinking into the murky depths. The triumphant laughter from the helicopter died. “What happened? Roger, what’s wrong with your drones?” Lila cried. I quickly unhooked the grappling claw and gunned the engine, steering the damaged speedboat towards the shore. But Roger was enraged. He piloted the helicopter lower, pressing down on us. “You think it’s over, Rhea?” The grappling hook shot towards us again. My face paled. I grabbed my in-laws, trying to get them away. “Jump! We have to jump!” If we didn’t get out now, the helicopter’s rotors would shred us to pieces. My father-in-law shoved my mother-in-law towards me. “Rhea, get your mother out of here! I’ll hold him off!” “Richard!” she screamed. But it was too late. The metal claw shot out, impaling my father-in-law through his already wounded arm, and hoisted him into the air. He screamed in agony as blood poured down his side, staining his clothes a deep crimson. “Still talking tough, old man? Weren’t you the one who said you’d rather die than sign? Let’s see how tough you really are!” Roger swung the crane arm back and forth, dangling his father mercilessly through the air. My mother-in-law fainted from the shock, collapsing into my arms. They never should have been here. They only came to this disaster zone to clean up a mess Roger had made, and now they were being hunted down by angry victims and their own son. “Roger, stop it!” I screamed. “You’re going to kill him!” “Oh, so now you’re begging?” Roger’s laughter was manic. “Sign the document! Or I’ll drop this old bastard in the river and let him drown!” “Fine, fine, I’ll sign! I’m signing it now!” I didn’t hesitate. I opened the email on my phone and uploaded my digital signature. My father-in-law’s voice was a weak rasp. “You… you little monster… I’m your father…” After Roger received the confirmation email, his laughter turned cruel and final. “Old man, I’m done with you. And since you’re all so ungrateful, you can go down and keep Lila’s parents company!” He released the crane. My father-in-law’s body plummeted into the churning brown water and vanished. “No!” “Dad!” I lunged forward, trying to grab him, but my hands closed on nothing but muddy water. “Go on and cry, Rhea. Why aren’t you crying?” Roger taunted. “Is this how you watched Lila’s parents die? Just standing there, cold as ice?” Lila’s voice was laced with a sick excitement. “Get the old hag too, Roger! Finish her off!” My mother-in-law stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked around, confused. “Rhea, where’s your father?” She followed my gaze to the turbulent surface of the river and understood everything. Roger was closing in again. I had no choice but to drag her towards the shore. The downdraft from the helicopter’s rotors was so strong it nearly pinned us to the ground. I pushed her with all my might. “Mom, run! Go!” Roger had lost all control. “Game over, Rhea.” A chill ran down my spine. I looked back. He was leaning out of the cockpit, a modified nail gun in his hand. The barrel was pointed straight at us. Lila clapped her hands. “Let them feel what it’s like to have their bones shattered! Make it so Rhea can’t even crawl away!” My scalp prickled with fear. “Mom, faster!” The rocky slope of the riverbank was just ahead. If we could just climb up, find some cover… BANG! An explosion of pain in my right knee. I collapsed into the mud, unable to stand. My leg was soaked in blood, a gory hole where I could see splintered bone. “Rhea!” My mother-in-law, who had just reached the top of the slope, turned and saw me fall. Without a second thought, she scrambled back down towards me. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I screamed through the pain, “Mom, don’t come back! Run! Go find Julian! Only Julian can stop him!” Julian was Roger’s uncle, the true head of the Thorne family. If he found out what Roger had done, that he’d murdered his own father, Roger’s life would be over. “I’m not leaving you!” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “I can’t leave you alone! If we’re going to die, we’ll die together!” But she was a woman who had lived a life of comfort, not hardship. She didn’t have the strength to drag me. After a few desperate attempts, we were both sinking deeper into the mud. With a final, desperate look, she steeled herself and turned, scrambling back up the slope. “Wait for me, Rhea! You have to stay alive!” I had saved so many people in my life—from fires, from collapsed buildings, from floods. But today, I couldn’t even save myself. I pushed myself up slightly, wanting to watch her get a little farther away. But the helicopter shifted, its sights now set on the small, struggling figure on the slope. Roger raised the nail gun, taking aim at his own mother. Panic seized me. “Roger, look! That’s your mother! Your own mother!” A sneer echoed from the loudspeaker. “Rhea, are you still trying that pathetic lie?” Lila’s sickly sweet voice followed. “She’s trying to trick you, darling. Your mother is so elegant and refined. How could she possibly be that old hag rolling around in the mud?” “You’re right. My mother is sipping tea in the chapel at Crestview right now. Rhea, your time is up.” “Roger, no! If you want to kill someone, kill me!” I screamed. My mother-in-law froze on the slope, her body rigid as she looked back at me. The next second, her body was ripped apart by a volley of nails. My mind went blank. The helicopter descended, using its claw to pick up her body and drop it in the mud in front of me. I stared into her wide-open eyes, still filled with worry for me. Even in death, she was thinking of her daughter-in-law. “Nice and quiet now, isn’t it, Rhea? Enjoy the little gift I prepared for you,” Roger said. “Two old corpses. A perfect match for you.” Lila cheered. “You did it, Roger! Now those two old bastards have paid for their sins!” The helicopter landed, and Roger walked towards me, nail gun in hand. I looked at him—the man I had once loved with all my heart. Now, a demon who had just murdered his own parents. He smiled. “So pitiful. Our heroic Captain Rhea is about to meet her maker.” Lila egged him on. “Hurry up, Roger! I want to see her head explode!” I lay in the mud, the agony in my knee turning into a dull, spreading numbness. My mother-in-law’s body was right beside me. I reached out, took her cold hand, and gave it one last squeeze. “If I survive this, Roger,” I whispered, my voice a low rasp, “I will grind your bones to dust.” His laughter grew wilder. “Is that your last word? Good. I’ll send you on your way.” He raised the nail gun, aiming for my head. Just as his finger tightened on the trigger, a new sound filled the air—the thundering beat of more than a dozen helicopter rotors. They hovered above us, each one emblazoned with the Thorne family crest. Roger’s face went white as he watched a man leap from the lead helicopter.

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I run a puppy playdate service at a local gaming lounge. I was just walking to a private booth when a girl knelt and reached out to pet my dog, a warm smile on her face. I figured she was the client, coming out to greet us early. But as I opened my mouth to say hello, a few lines of semi-transparent text drifted past my eyes. 【OMG, the female lead is so smart, using the puppy to get his attention.】 【Who knew he was a softie for dogs under that cold exterior?】 【Too bad about the dog, though. She gets it killed later.】 【Hey, if the dog doesn’t die, how does the plot move forward?】 I looked at the girl still scratching my dog’s head. Then I looked down at my sweet, oblivious pup, his tail wagging furiously. A sudden chill ran down my spine. So, I’ve barely been in this business for a week, and I’m already just a prop in some cheap romance drama? No way. This dog is not becoming a plot device. Not today. 1 The woman in the cream-colored sundress was still crouched down, her fingers tangled in my dog’s fur. Bean’s tail was a blur of happiness. The moment the floating comments registered, a single sharp command escaped my lips. “Don’t touch him.” I strode forward, scooping Bean up into my arms. He immediately snuggled against my chest, his tail thumping against my side. The woman, startled by my sudden appearance, quickly plastered a smile on her face. She reached out again. “Oh, he’s just so adorable! I was only playing with him for a second.” As she spoke, she angled her head just so, her eyes darting toward the booth next to her. She was putting on a show, managing her expression for an unseen audience. I had no time for her games. I just wanted to get past her with my dog. But just then, the door to that very booth opened, and a man stepped out, drawn by the commotion. Instantly, more text scrolled across my vision: 【It’s him! The male lead! He finally noticed her!】 【That eye contact! The chemistry is off the charts! This pairing is epic!】 I blinked. “…” Maybe I’d been working too many late nights. Was I starting to hallucinate? Real or not, I had to get my dog out of here. “Excuse me, he has an appointment.” I held Bean tight and walked directly toward the man’s booth, pointedly ignoring the woman I left behind. “Hey, I wasn’t done yet!” Just as I expected, she followed, her voice sharp with annoyance as she reached out to stop me. But the moment her eyes landed on the man in the doorway, her anger vanished, choked back down. It was replaced by an even sweeter smile, her voice softening to a gentle coo. “Wait, please. I just… I love dogs so much.” “The client who booked this playdate is waiting,” I said, offering the man a polite nod before turning to give the woman a picture-perfect, professional smile. Then, before she could react, I slipped into the booth and shut the door in her shocked face. With the door safely closed, I let out a long breath, the tension leaving my shoulders. I gently poked Bean’s fuzzy ear. “It’s okay, Bean. You’re safe now.” As if he understood, he licked my fingers and nuzzled his fluffy head into my palm. I sank onto the sofa, glancing around the empty air. The strange words were gone again. I handed the man my canvas tote bag filled with tennis balls and freeze-dried chicken. “Here are his toys and treats.” He took the bag, his fingertips brushing against the back of my hand. He didn’t say much, just pulled out a well-chewed plush toy and dangled it in front of Bean. Bean went wild, his tail wagging like a helicopter rotor as he chased the toy in circles on the carpet. The man knelt, watching the little dog spin around him. I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into the ghost of a smile, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He was back to his cool, unreadable expression as he gently stroked Bean’s ear. Watching them, I couldn’t shake the comment I’d seen: She gets it killed later. I bit my lip, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “So, you saw what happened out there. I think Bean’s a little spooked.” “It’s his first time doing a playdate session, and I’m a bit worried. Would it be okay if I stayed here with him for a while?” The man looked at Bean, who was now gleefully romping around the room, and nodded without much hesitation. “Sure.” Relieved, I found a single armchair not too far from him and sat down. For the rest of the hour, the man just played with the dog, his expression never changing. Who plays with a puppy with a face like that? I wondered. And just as I had the thought, the damn comments reappeared. 【What is this dog owner’s deal? Forcing her way into the male lead’s room and trying to make our girl look bad.】 【Seriously! Our girl is the cutest, everyone loves her. It was obviously just a misunderstanding!】 I rubbed my eyes, confirming I wasn’t dreaming. So, it wasn’t my vision. The world itself had gone insane. If the woman outside was the “female lead” and this guy was the “male lead,” then what did that make the little dog currently chewing a treat at my feet? A plot device? A furry tool to drive their romance forward? I looked down at Bean, now trying to cuddle up to the man’s leg, his tail thumping a happy rhythm against the floor. He had no idea he’d been cast in someone else’s bizarre story. I sighed. It seemed my little guy and I had been dragged into a setup. He let out a contented little snuffle, blissfully unaware. My eyes flickered toward the door, my resolve hardening. The second this gig is over, we’re packing up and getting out of here. He can have his leading lady. Nobody is touching my dog. 2 After that day at the gaming lounge, I took Bean home and things went back to normal. Every evening, I’d walk him around our apartment complex. The strange, floating comments never reappeared. Life was quiet. I was starting to convince myself that the whole bizarre experience had just been a bad dream. Today was just another one of those walks. Bean was trotting happily ahead of me when he suddenly stopped by a patch of grass, his back legs dipping into a familiar squat. I knew the drill. I pulled a waste bag from my pocket and turned my back to give him some privacy. Once he was done, I tied a knot in the bag, tossed it into a nearby bin, and called him over. “Mission accomplished! Time for chicken treats at home!” He trotted back, tail wagging, but just as we were about to head back, the damn words reappeared out of nowhere. 【High-impact scene coming up! The main couple’s romance is finally about to take off!】 【Someone with no soul is about to hurt the puppy, and the female lead is going to swoop in like a total badass! Death to all animal abusers!】 【She’s so kind! This move will definitely make the male lead remember her!】 My feet froze. The female lead was back. I scanned the area, wondering which unlucky person she had her sights on this time. The walking path was dotted with other dog owners, all with their pets safely on leashes. Everything looked perfectly peaceful. Who was going to hurt a dog? As I stood there, confused, a sudden, powerful tug on the leash nearly yanked my arm out of its socket. I looked down to see Bean bolting forward, pulling with all his might. He’d spotted his best friend, a border collie, and the two were already barking greetings from across the lawn. “Bean! Stop!” I yelled, gripping the leash, but he was too excited, his paws scrambling for purchase on the pavement. He was dragging me along now. The collie’s owner was shouting at her dog, too. The two furballs collided in a whirlwind of happy yaps and spinning circles. Thankfully, Bean finally skidded to a halt before he could drag my old bones any further. I leaned over, hands on my knees, panting until my breath returned. I glared down at the little traitor, who was now panting happily, his tongue lolling out, wagging his tail as if nothing had happened. A wave of frustration washed over me, and I gave his rump a light, harmless pat. “Bean! Are you trying to give your mother a heart attack? If only you put that much energy into losing weight!” “You okay?” The collie’s owner walked over, a look of concern on her face. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I waved her off, my eyes still fixed on the two dogs, who were now sniffing each other intently. “No treats for you tonight!” The two of us stood there chatting about the new vet clinic that had just opened up in the neighborhood. Suddenly, a shrill voice cut through the evening air from behind us. “How could you abuse your dog!” I jumped, spinning around. There she was, the female lead, standing a few feet away, her face a mask of righteous fury. At the exact same time, the comments exploded across my vision: 【Here we go! The dog abuser has appeared!】 【Get her, girl! The male lead is watching!】 【Teach that abuser a lesson she’ll never forget!】 I stared. “…” Oh. So I was the unlucky one. “Me?” I pointed at my own nose, utterly bewildered. “I’m abusing my dog?” The border collie’s owner was just as confused. “What’s going on?” she whispered to me. While we exchanged baffled looks, a small crowd of neighbors started to gather, drawn by the commotion. “What’s happening?” someone asked. “Did someone hurt a dog?” And right on cue, the comments began their frantic scroll: 【Yes, girl! Stand up to people like that!】 【That’s horrible, hitting such a cute dog!】 【Look, the male lead sees you! He sees you defending justice! You’re beautiful and kind!】 I followed the comments’ invisible line of sight and, sure enough, there he was. The man from the gaming lounge. He was standing in the crowd, watching the scene unfold with a surprised look on his face. Clearly, this little drama was as unexpected for him as it was for me. 3 Seeing a crowd gather, the woman—Carol, I’d eventually learn her name was—stood up even straighter, as if fueled by their attention. “I saw it with my own eyes!” she declared, pointing a finger at Bean, who was now huddled by my leg. “You raised your hand and you hit his backside! What is that if not abuse?” Her eyes blazed with the thrill of a crusader. “Someone like you who doesn’t care about animals doesn’t deserve a dog! You’ll be the death of him!” Bean, sensing the tension, pressed closer against me. I bent down to stroke his head, and when I looked up again, my confusion had hardened into a cold anger. That little tap on his butt counted as “abuse” in her world? Were these floating comments filtered through some kind of delusion that erased basic common sense? “His mom takes such good care of him,” a voice from the crowd piped up. It was Mrs. Gable, a neighbor I often saw on our walks. “She’s out here with him every single day. When Bean got sick last month, she rushed him to the emergency vet in the middle of the night. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Most of the dog owners in our complex knew each other. We all had a pretty good sense of who treated their pets well. But the comments in my vision were having none of it: 【What is wrong with these people? Covering for an abuser? Is this whole neighborhood full of animal haters?】 【Right? Anyone defending her is just as guilty! Ignore them, girl!】 The sheer, twisted logic of it all made me want to laugh. I looked at Carol, whose face was growing paler by the second. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that I was abusing my dog.” “If you’re talking about the light pat I gave his rear end,” I said, emphasizing the word “light,” “then I really don’t know what to tell you.” “And as for why I did it, you clearly didn’t see what happened just before, did you?” “That’s right,” the collie’s owner chimed in, pointing to the two dogs at her feet. “Bean got overexcited when he saw my dog and bolted. He nearly pulled his owner right off her feet!” “She was just startled and trying to get him to calm down. It wasn’t abuse.” A murmur of agreement went through the crowd. “Yeah, that’s nothing. You have to correct a dog when it lunges like that, or someone could get hurt.” “Seriously. My golden retriever chased a squirrel once and pulled so hard I sprained my ankle. He got more than a light tap on the head for that.” “Besides,” someone else added with a chuckle, “the way she tapped him, his own tail probably hits her leg harder than that.” A few people laughed. Carol had clearly not expected this. The scenario she’d imagined—a heroic rescue where she was lauded by the public for standing up to an abuser—had completely imploded. Instead, she found herself on the receiving end of a collective, gentle rebuke. Her face flushed, then went pale, her carefully constructed expression crumbling. A flash of pure rage crossed her eyes. This wasn’t in the script, and she was starting to panic. I took half a step back, pulling Bean with me, trying to avoid her venomous glare. 【Male lead, do something! Help her! She’s being attacked by all these villains!】 【My heart breaks for her. She was just trying to do the right thing and now she’s the one getting yelled at?】 I stared at the black-and-white insanity of the comments, wanting to roll my eyes into the back of my head. How could these “viewers” lack such a basic grasp of right and wrong? “She is an abuser!” Carol finally shrieked, cornered and desperate. “And all of you, defending her—you’re all abusers, too!” “Hey, watch your mouth, young lady!” Mrs. Gable snapped, her patience gone. “This was a simple misunderstanding. We were just telling you what actually happened. That doesn’t make us abusers.” “Yeah, for someone so young, you’ve got a nasty tongue on you,” another man grumbled, frowning. Just as the scene was about to spiral completely out of control, a calm voice cut in. “Carol, that’s enough.” I looked up. The man from the gaming lounge had made his way through the crowd. He was frowning at Carol, his disapproval clear. “You’re making things up. That’s not what happened, and you’re being unfair to everyone.” Carol looked as if he’d slapped her. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. “I was doing it for you!” she cried, her voice cracking. “You love dogs so much, I was just trying to help!” Tears streamed down her face as she played the part of the deeply wronged victim. The neighbors, sensing this was a private argument now, started to back away, though they still watched from a distance. I watched this train wreck of a drama unfold, my eyes flicking to the frantic scrolling of the comments: 【What is happening? The male lead is yelling at her? But she did it all for him!】 【This guy is trash. He’s blind and can’t even tell right from wrong! He’d better be ready to grovel, and I hope she never takes him back!】 【Suddenly the second male lead is looking a lot better. Run, girl, run!】 I fought the urge to groan. What did Bean and I do to deserve being dragged into this mess? But watching them, I had a sinking feeling their drama was far from over. And my innocent little dog, somehow, was stuck right in the middle of it. I looked down at Bean and sighed. Looks like I’m going to have to be extra careful from now on. 4 I couldn’t believe it. The male and female leads from this bizarre, invisible drama lived in my apartment complex. Great. Now there was nowhere to hide. I couldn’t just stop walking my dog to avoid them. So, I switched our schedule to the dead of night. The complex was silent, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the wind. “Okay, Bean, be quiet,” I whispered, clutching his leash as we tiptoed downstairs. The little guy was vibrating with excitement, his tail wagging like crazy. We had just reached a fork in the path near the community garden when I saw a figure standing under a lamppost ahead. The person turned. The warm, yellow light illuminated his face. It was the man from the drama. Thomas. Bean let out a soft “woof,” and he paused, waiting for us to approach. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his gaze shifting from Bean to me. “I haven’t seen you walking him lately. I figured you might be avoiding us.” He looked genuinely regretful. “What Carol did the other day, accusing you like that… it was completely out of line. I wanted to find you and apologize.” “Oh, uh, it’s fine. Really,” I said quickly, taking a small step back with Bean. “It was her thing, it has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to apologize.” Honestly, all I wanted was to end this conversation and disappear into the night. But he persisted. “No, she was doing it because of me. She was targeting you and your dog because of me. So, ultimately, it’s my fault. I have to apologize.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just offered a tight smile. After a few seconds of awkward silence, I couldn’t help myself. “You know, maybe you and Carol should sit down and have a real talk?” I suggested, trying to sound casual. “Sometimes, when things are left unsaid, it just creates more misunderstandings. This can’t be good for either of you.” It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Carol was obsessed with him. As for Thomas, he seemed like a decent guy, but who knew if he’d ever been clear with her. He seemed surprised by my suggestion. He thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You’re right. We do need to talk.” He looked at me again. “I’m sorry again for all the trouble. It won’t happen again.” “It’s okay. Well, we should get on with our walk.” I turned to leave with Bean. I really hope it won’t happen again, I thought. Otherwise, I’m seriously considering moving. “It’s pretty dark out,” Thomas called after me. “Mind if I walk with you?” I agreed. The moment I did, Bean trotted over to Thomas’s side, wagging his tail and rubbing his head against his leg. Thomas bent down to scratch his ears. “Why did you stop listing him for the playdate service?” It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. “Oh, uh, just been busy lately,” I lied. He looked a little sheepish. “I kind of miss him.” I couldn’t blame him. My dog was pretty charming. “Well, if you ever want to see him, you can just join us on our walks.” And so, we fell into a routine. Every evening, Thomas would be waiting downstairs, sometimes with a little treat for Bean. The three of us would walk together. Bean would dart back and forth between us, dropping his ball at my feet one moment, then flopping down on Thomas’s shoes the next. It was clear he really, really liked him. One evening, I finally asked the question that had been on my mind. “So what’s the deal with that girl, Carol?” Thomas’s expression immediately soured. He sighed. “I have no idea. She just started acting this way recently. I’ve told her, very clearly, that I’m not interested, but she keeps saying we’re ‘destined’ to be together. And then she does these… bizarre things. It’s honestly starting to scare me.” “Did she just suddenly start acting like this?” I asked, a thought forming in my mind. He confirmed that she had. A wild theory began to take shape. She said they were ‘destined.’ Could she also know about the ‘script’? A cool breeze rustled the trees, and I watched Thomas as he knelt to play with Bean. Then another, even stranger question hit me. I could only see those floating comments when Carol was around. They were always there, dictating the plot. But Thomas, the supposed male lead of this story, seemed completely oblivious to them. What was the connection between Carol and those comments?

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The moment I learned my childhood sweetheart, Nolan, was breaking up with me because my family was too poor, a wave of relief washed over me. Thank god I was only pretending to be poor. He had no idea. My mom, worried that our wealth would crush his self-esteem, had made me keep up the charade for years. It was exhausting. And now, finally, it was over. 1 My mom practically arranged my marriage to Nolan when we were kids. She spotted him on a playground one day and decided his tragically handsome face belonged in our family album. He had to be her future son-in-law. To make sure I could win his heart from a young age, my entire family packed up our sprawling penthouse in the city center and moved into a cramped, rundown house in his neighborhood. Just like that, Nolan and I became the quintessential childhood sweethearts. After befriending Nolan’s family, my mom gave up her spa days, her country club lunches, her charity galas. Her new hobby became elbowing her way through crowds with Nolan’s mom at the supermarket to snag discounted eggs and day-old produce. She threw away her life as a socialite, all for the sake of her chosen son-in-law. I once told my dad that if people on the internet ever heard about my mom’s bizarre antics, she’d be canceled instantly. He didn’t say a word, just quietly put away the keys to his Rolls-Royce and pulled out the keys to his electric scooter to take me to school. Yeah, my dad was just like me. We had no say in this family. I’d asked my mom countless times when I could finally be myself around Nolan. Her answer was always the same. “Teenage boys have the most fragile egos, darling. What if Nolan finds out how rich we are and it shatters his confidence?” I didn’t know if Nolan’s confidence would shatter, but my sanity certainly was. One night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I marched into my parents’ bedroom and demanded an answer. “Is Nolan your secret love child from an affair?!” I yelled. “It’s fine if he is! Just let Dad and me move back to the city. We’re willing to accept him into the family!” My outburst earned me a tag-team scolding from both of them. My butt was sore for days. Fine. I’d just have to endure it a little longer. 2 Thankfully, the end was in sight. The day finally came when Nolan’s affections strayed. After school today, he refused to take the bus with me. “Stella, you know my family’s old property got bought out by developers,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Do you have any idea how much we got?” He held up five fingers. “Five million dollars.” He smirked. “So, I won’t be taking the bus anymore. You get what I’m saying, right?” Honestly, I didn’t. I just stared at him blankly. “Okay, cool. We can take a cab together from now on, then!” Nolan made a tsking sound. “It’s not about the cab, Stella.” “Then what is it about?” His tone became cold, unfamiliar. “My mom said we’re moving out of this dump in a few days. My family’s worth millions now. And you? You’re still…” “I’m still what?” He sighed, a picture of put-upon patience. “I didn’t want to have to spell it out for you. Why are you being so dense? I think everyone has the right to chase something better. You can’t stop me from moving on to someone who’s more on my level, can you?” “So, Stella,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Do you get what I’m saying now?” After all that, I finally understood. His family had struck it rich, and suddenly, I wasn’t good enough for him anymore. He was dumping me. “Fine,” I said. He looked surprised. He’d clearly expected a fight, not instant agreement. I decided to press for gossip. “So who’s this ‘better’ person?” “Jane,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with reverence. “At this stage in my life, she’s the one who’s a perfect match for me. Socially, financially… everything.” Ah, Jane. The beautiful, wealthy queen bee of our school. “Okay,” I said, pulling out my phone. “I agree to the breakup, but you have to be the one to tell my mom. In person.” Nolan’s brow furrowed. “Stella, we’re not kids anymore. Do we really have to do that?” My resolve was firm. “If you don’t tell her, she’ll never believe it.” He let out another impatient sigh. “Fine. Breaking up with poor people is always so much drama.” Excuse me? Poor people? Was he talking about me? I dialed my mom’s number. The moment she heard Nolan’s voice, she lit up. “Nolan, sweetie! Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Your mom’s been so busy lately, she hasn’t been answering my calls or texts.” Nolan was silent for a beat, as if wrestling with a sliver of guilt. “Mrs. Evans,” he began, “I’m calling to tell you that I think it’s time for me to focus on my studies. We can’t let ourselves get distracted by romance.” “So, Stella and I have decided to peacefully go our separate ways.” “Peaceful?!” I shrieked into the phone. “Nolan, why don’t you tell her the truth! Mom! His family got a huge payout and now he thinks I’m not good enough for him! He’s dumping me to go after the school queen bee!” Nolan snatched the phone and ended the call. “Stella!” He was genuinely angry with me for the first time I could remember. “Couldn’t you just be classy about this? Did you have to make me look bad in front of your mom?” I just stared at him. What is wrong with you? “Whatever,” he huffed, regaining his composure. “It’s done. I’m officially going to start pursuing Jane tomorrow. Do me a favor and make sure everyone in our class knows that we’re broken up.” Watching his retreating back, I suddenly felt a surge of gratitude for my mom’s insane scheme. How else would I have ever seen his true colors? But an even happier thought bubbled up inside me. I was finally free. No more pretending. And no more damn bus rides. 3 I splurged on an Uber to get home. The second I walked in the door, my mom was on me. “What happened with you and Nolan? Did you two have a fight?” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? His family hit the jackpot, and now he thinks we’re beneath him.” My mom refused to believe it. “Impossible. Nolan isn’t that kind of boy. Maybe… maybe he has a terminal illness! And he’s just making up an excuse to break up with you so he won’t be a burden!” I rolled my eyes. “You need to read fewer romance novels. They’re rotting your brain.” She was undeterred. “We’ll sell everything we have! We have to save him!” she declared, grabbing my arm and dragging me out the door. Nolan’s house was right across from ours, but it took an eternity of knocking before the door finally opened. When Nolan’s mom saw us, a strange expression crossed her face. “Oh, you’re home,” my mom said, completely oblivious. She had a superpower for missing social cues. “We were supposed to go get those discount eggs this afternoon. Why didn’t you text me back?” She pressed on. “Nolan called earlier and said he wants to break up with Stella. I just wanted to ask if something’s wrong.” For some reason, Nolan’s mom’s voice turned sharp and cruel. “What could be wrong? Are you wishing ill on my son? They broke up because he doesn’t like her anymore. It’s that simple.” She started to close the door, then paused. “Oh, and by the way,” she said, a smug little smile playing on her lips. “I forgot to tell you. We got five million from the developers for our old property. We just bought a new Porsche, and next week we’re moving into that new luxury condo complex down the road—the one where units start at two million.” “So,” she finished, her eyes glinting, “let’s just leave the past in the past. There’s no need for us to stay in touch.” The moment the door clicked shut, I could almost hear my mom’s heart breaking. She couldn’t believe she’d been so wrong about them. The final nail in the coffin was when she opened her phone and saw the little red notification telling her she’d been blocked. That night, she shook me awake. “Stella,” she whispered, her voice filled with a newfound determination, “let’s move back to the city. To the penthouse. The private concierge, the high-end spa days… I miss them.” I shot up in bed, a wide grin spreading across my face. My dad and I had been waiting for this day for so long. We packed that night and drove the Rolls-Royce back to our real home. No more pretending. My haute couture dresses, my designer bags, my limited-edition collectibles… I’m back, babies! And I bet you missed me. 4 The next day, I walked into class wearing a pair of limited-edition sneakers. Jane, the school queen bee, let out a derisive snort. Every head in the room turned. “Whoa, Stella and Jane are wearing the same shoes.” “Took me a whole second to figure out which pair is fake.” “Stella’s wearing knockoffs? No wonder Nolan broke up with her. So tacky.” “I heard she was begging him not to leave after she found out about his family’s money.” “She was wearing eighty-dollar sneakers yesterday, and today she’s in two-thousand-dollar ones? Yeah, right.” Jane then held up a hand, putting on a show of magnanimity. “It’s okay, guys. Maybe Stella just doesn’t know any better.” I brushed her hand away. “Who the hell doesn’t know any better?” Her face fell, humiliated, but she quickly masked it with a wounded expression. “Why are you being so mean? If you’re mad because Nolan is pursuing me, I can just tell him no.” What? Who’s mad about that? As if on cue, Nolan descended like a knight in shining armor, ready to protect his damsel. “Stella, we’ve known each other our whole lives. You think I don’t know what you’re like? The only thing you’re an expert on is the two-dollar donuts from the cart outside and the seven-dollar bowl of noodles from that cheap place down the street. What would you know about high-end sneakers?” The classroom erupted in laughter. “I saw her arguing with an old lady over fifty cents once! She’s pathetic!” “Does she think wearing the same shoes as Jane makes her the queen bee? Or is this some desperate ploy to win her man back?” “You can copy the outfit, but you’ll always be the budget version.” The five million dollars had clearly gone to his head. “Since you’re such an expert,” he sneered, “let’s test you. What’s the name of this brand’s founder? What’s his birthday?” The brand name and model were on the tip of my tongue, but he wasn’t asking that. He was asking for the founder’s birthday? My face flushed with anger. Before I could formulate a comeback, he took my silence as an admission of guilt. “Enough,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “I know this breakup has been hard on you.” He pulled a lunch card from his pocket. “There’s five hundred dollars on here. That should last you the rest of the semester.” When I didn’t take it, he shoved it into my hand. “Don’t pretend. I know you need this. Consider it… a severance package.” I rolled my eyes and flicked the card back at him. When I got to my desk, I saw that Nolan had already moved his seat next to Jane, under the guise of “tutoring” her. Yeah, right. We all knew what he was really after. With Nolan gone, no one wanted to sit next to me. But then, a quiet girl from the back of the class, Maya, who was on a scholarship, picked up her things and silently moved to the desk beside mine. As she passed Jane’s desk, Jane leaned back with a smirk. “Just so you know, the whole class hates her now. Sitting next to her is social suicide.” But Maya sat down next to me anyway. When I asked her why, she just shrugged. “I can’t stand watching people like Nolan and Jane use money to bully others.” I felt a little awkward, because in this situation, I wasn’t entirely sure who was bullying who.

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My childhood friend, Terry, was a man of insatiable appetites. Every time we were together, it was an inferno, a storm of passion that left me breathless. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole. I once posted on an anonymous forum, asking, “Is this kind of intensity normal?” The comments flooded in. “Normal? Girl, you hit the jackpot!” and “Damn, talk about eating good!” Then my mother started breathing down my neck about marriage. So, one day, lying in the afterglow of our lovemaking, I casually suggested bringing him home to meet my parents. A slow, careless smile spread across Terry’s face. “Sylvie,” he said, his voice husky with satisfaction, “I have a girlfriend.” “She comes from a very old-money, traditional family. Her grandfather passed away, and their family has this… archaic three-year mourning period. I’m not allowed to touch her. That’s where you came in.” 1 It felt like I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. For a moment, I was sure I’d misheard him. But Terry wasn’t finished. His voice was a lazy, contented drawl. “So, why the sudden urge to meet the parents? You always said you’d never get married. That’s why I picked you to fill the gap. We’re childhood friends. We know everything about each other. It was a perfect arrangement for three years.” He sounded cheerful, almost relieved. “The good news is, her mourning period officially ends tomorrow. It’s like I’ve finally seen the sun after a long storm. I won’t be needing you to keep me company anymore.” Not a shred of guilt. Not a hint of remorse. A sharp, searing pain shot through my heart. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms that the skin turned white. I couldn’t feel a thing. I felt like a ghost, my voice hollow as I looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?” “Because it wasn’t necessary,” he said with a shrug. “We were just convenient lovers, a three-year fling. Nothing more.” He reached out to ruffle my hair, his tone softening into something he probably thought was kind. “Don’t worry, Sylvie. I know how much you despise the ‘other woman.’ I would never, ever put you in that position.” He was right. The one thing I despise most in this world is the ‘other woman.’ A home-wrecker had destroyed my family. When I was ten, my father’s affair came to light, and our home was never peaceful again. My parents screamed at each other daily, hurling the most venomous insults they could conjure, treating each other like mortal enemies they wished they could tear to shreds. Every time, as I huddled in a corner, trembling and crying, it was Terry who came to my rescue. He knew my deepest wounds better than anyone. “I told my girlfriend about you from the day we first slept together,” he continued, as if that made everything okay. “I wouldn’t just sleep with a random woman without her permission, would I? I’m a loyal guy. She knows you exist.” He cupped my face in his hands, his dark, intoxicating eyes locking onto mine, reflecting only me. Everyone always said that a man with eyes like his could look at a stray dog with a soulful passion. And for three years, I had been completely mesmerized by them, foolishly believing he loved me. Now that the truth was out, our entire relationship felt like a sick, ugly joke. “So you see, Sylvie,” he whispered, trying to soothe me, “you’re really not the other woman.” His gaze began to smolder again. His fingers slid from my cheek down to my bare shoulder, tracing a dangerously familiar path. “How about one more time? For old times’ sake, Sylvie.” Something inside me snapped. I shoved him away with all my might. I scrambled off the bed, stumbling and falling, my forehead cracking against the sharp corner of the nightstand with a loud, sickening thud. “Sylvie! Are you okay?” Terry shot up, reaching for me. A throbbing pain exploded from my forehead, but the agony in my heart was a thousand times worse. Clutching my head, my voice choked with tears. “Don’t you dare come near me!” To my surprise, he stopped. He stood there, his lean, powerful torso bare, a look of confusion and irritation clouding his handsome features. I pulled myself up from the floor, threw on my clothes in a blind panic, and fled his apartment. 2 I arrived home in a daze. When I opened the door, my mother was sitting on the sofa like a perfect wax figure, her beautiful face a mask of indifference. Her eyes, when they landed on me, held no warmth at all. “Weren’t you supposed to be bringing a boyfriend home for me to meet? Where is he?” I said nothing. Lately, she’d been relentless about me getting married. For years, she and my father had been locked in a bitter war of attrition, a toxic dance of mutual destruction. The only thing that kept her going was her iron-willed determination that the company would never fall into the hands of his mistress and illegitimate children. Even though I had already proven myself and secured a strong position within the company, she wasn’t satisfied. She wanted the security of a strategic marriage alliance. I used to think I was so lucky that the man I loved was Terry. The Sterling and Blackwood families were social equals; our marriage would have been a perfect match, celebrated by all. That morning, backed into a corner by her incessant pressure, I had finally told her I had a boyfriend and would bring him home tonight. She had only given a cold, curt nod. And now, here I was, alone. The answer was obvious. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. She didn’t seem surprised, nor did she ask for details. Instead, she handed me a stack of glossy portfolios. “These are the most eligible bachelors in our circle. Family, character, looks—they have it all. Pick one you can stand to look at.” The day’s events had drained every last ounce of my strength. I had no energy to argue with her. I pulled a file at random from the stack and handed it back. “This one.” My mother glanced down at it. “Fine. I’ll make the arrangements.” My body felt like it was filled with lead as I dragged myself upstairs. A few minutes later, Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, knocked on my door with a jar of ointment. “Miss Sylvie, your mother asked me to help you with your forehead.” Her voice was gentle. “She also told me to tell you… that there’s no pain that time can’t heal. Cry if you need to, laugh when you can, but don’t torture yourself. In this world, only money and power are real. Love is just smoke.” I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale and drawn. A grotesque, swollen red lump pulsed on my forehead. I looked like a pathetic clown. The tears I had been holding back all night finally broke free, streaming down my face in hot, silent rivers. Cry, I told myself. This is the last time you’ll cry over him. Let everything that happened yesterday die with yesterday. Today is a new beginning. 3 In the weeks that followed, I blocked Terry on everything and threw myself into my work. It was surprisingly effective; I almost managed to forget he existed. Until I received a message from his girlfriend. She wanted to meet. My first instinct was to refuse. But a sliver of guilt, sharp and unwelcome, pricked at my conscience. You really shouldn’t do things that weigh on you. Even though I was the victim in this twisted drama, even though I had unknowingly been involved with her and Terry for three years, I still felt a sense of shame toward this woman I had never met. We met at The Serene Garden, a restaurant built into an exquisite, traditional estate. I pushed open the door to the private room and saw her. She wore a simple, elegant silk dress in a muted color, her long, straight black hair pinned up with a single jade pin. Her face was a little pale, but it couldn’t hide her delicate beauty. She was like a figure from an ancient painting, serene and timeless. She offered me a small smile. “Miss Sterling. I’m Clarissa. Please, have a seat.” I sat opposite her in silence. Growing up, I’d seen my mother confront my father’s mistresses countless times. Some encounters were simmering with restrained fury, others exploded into hysterical screaming matches. But none were ever like this. It was unnervingly calm. Clarissa rose and poured me a cup of tea, pushing it gently across the table. Her smile was warm. “This tea is exceptional. It leaves a wonderful fragrance. You should try it, Miss Sterling.” I drank it like an automaton, then set the cup down. “Miss Crawford, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “I never intended to come between you and Terry. When we were together, I believed he was single. I had no idea he had a girlfriend.” A faint smile touched her lips. “It’s alright. Terry told me everything from the start. I don’t mind.” So, Terry had been telling the truth. Their relationship had her blessing. The whole situation was so grotesque, so utterly absurd, it made my stomach turn. I felt like a monkey in a cage, toyed with by the two of them for their own amusement. “You may not mind, but I do!” I snapped, my composure finally cracking. “If you had just given me a heads-up three years ago, I would have kicked him to the curb instantly! I never would have wasted three years on him! What kind of sick mindset do you have, letting your boyfriend sleep with another woman? Do you have some kind of cuckold fetish?” Clarissa looked at me, her expression as placid as ever, her posture exuding the untouchable grace of a highborn lady from a forgotten era. “My family, the Crawfords, have been prominent since the Gilded Age. It was once common for a bride to bring her handmaidens into a marriage. You’ve simply been fulfilling a similar, modern-day role. Why should that be of any concern?” Her words struck me dumb. “Terry has… strong physical needs,” she continued, “and with my grandfather’s passing, I had to observe a period of abstinence. I couldn’t bear to see him suffer. You were there to help him. Wasn’t that mutually beneficial?” I stared at her, utterly shocked. I couldn’t believe that in the twenty-first century, someone with such a twisted, archaic worldview still existed. Clarissa lowered her eyes and took a sip of her tea, her voice a soft, unhurried murmur. “Sylvie, Terry has told me a lot about you. You grew up together. Your home was broken, but his was warm and happy, so you were always there. His parents adore you. You’ve been in love with him since you were a child, dreaming of marrying into the Blackwood family and finally belonging somewhere—” “Get to the point,” I cut in, my hands clenching under the table. “What do you want?” She smiled, dabbing her lips with a delicate handkerchief before letting out a soft cough. “Miss Sterling, let’s make a deal. I have a heart condition, and my health isn’t the best. I would like you to continue your physical relationship with Terry, to help him with his… needs. In exchange, the Crawford family will intervene on your behalf. We’ll help you sideline your father, deal with his illegitimate children, and place the entirety of Sterling Industries firmly in your hands. What do you say?” I shot to my feet, my chair scraping harshly against the floor. “You’re insane!” I turned and stormed out. But I didn’t get more than two steps before my knees buckled. A searing heat, a maddening itch, began to uncoil deep inside me, and my whole body felt like it was on fire. I whipped my head around to face her, my voice a venomous hiss. “You drugged the tea?”

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I was the true heir of Blackwood Manor, lost for forty years. When the Blackwood family finally found me, I already had three children. The day I returned, my father, Duke Alistair Blackwood, warned me: “You’ve lived a simple life, untaught in proper society. To outsiders, I will introduce you as an adopted daughter of Blackwood Manor.” “As for that crude country husband of yours, and those… wild children, they must never show their faces. It would disgrace the family.” My brother, Lord Arthur, also stood protectively in front of the adopted daughter. “I have only one sister, Lydia.” “Don’t even think about trying to win favor from her.” I looked at them, a flicker of amusement in my eyes. “Crude country husband?” Were they referring to my husband, Chancellor Marcus Ashworth, a man second only to the King himself? And “wild children”? Were they speaking of my daughter, Queen Amara? Or my eldest son, General Kael Ashworth, Hero of the Realm? Perhaps my youngest, the newly crowned King’s Scholar, Elias Ashworth? 1 The day the Blackwood Manor steward brought me back, I finally met my biological father, Duke Alistair Blackwood. He sat at the head of the table, a teacup in hand, his gaze sweeping over me with a critical, almost disdainful air. It was as if he were examining a dusty antique, dug up from some forgotten corner. “Rosalind, you’ve been away for forty years. You must have suffered.” He took a sip of his tea, his tone flat, devoid of any hint of emotion at our long-awaited reunion. “Your mother has gone to the abbey for prayers. She’ll see you later.” I remained silent. He didn’t seem to notice or care, continuing as if I weren’t even there. “Lydia has grown up in this manor. She is now Lady Ashworth, refined and accomplished, the very face of our family. Your return has naturally caused her some anxiety.” He paused, then went on. “For the peace of this house, and for the harmony between you and your sister, she will remain known as the true daughter of Blackwood Manor.” He took another sip. “You, on the other hand, will be registered as an adopted daughter under your mother’s name. It will be enough to acknowledge our connection as father and daughter.” I watched him calmly. At my age, I understood the unspoken words, the dismissal beneath his polite veneer. He was ashamed of me, warning me away, and cementing Lydia’s position. My mother, whom I had yet to meet, had even conveniently arranged to be absent on the day of my return. Clearly, she wasn’t eager to see me either. I shifted my gaze, a faint smile playing on my lips, and nodded. “Alright.” Alistair seemed taken aback by my easy agreement. All the carefully prepared arguments he had ready were caught in his throat. Lord Arthur, my brother, standing beside him, couldn’t contain himself. He took a hasty step forward, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Don’t think your quick agreement means you have good intentions!” he snarled. “I’m warning you, my sister Lydia is a kind and gentle soul. She has prayed and sacrificed countless times over the years, all to find you. You are back now. Do not dare to bully her!” I looked at this blood relation, his eyes brimming with fierce loyalty for his “sister,” while mine were filled with suspicion and hostility. “Oh,” I replied. That single, quiet “oh” seemed to ignite their anger further. Alistair slammed his teacup onto the table with a dull thud, his eyes turning cold. “There is one more thing you must agree to.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “That husband of yours… that crude country bumpkin, and those… wild children. You are not to bring them anywhere near this manor.” “Blackwood Manor is a noble family. We will not be disgraced by such common folk.” 2 As he spoke, the disgust in his eyes was almost palpable. I finally met his gaze, my own calm and steady, and spoke slowly. “The Duke is right.” “A country husband is certainly crude, and wild children are rambunctious. They would indeed be out of place here. My apologies for the oversight.” I saw a flicker of contempt in Alistair’s eyes. Lord Arthur, beside him, made no effort to hide his scorn, a mocking smile twisting his lips. In their minds, my ready compliance was undeniable proof: a country bumpkin, desperate to cling to power and wealth, willing to abandon everything for a taste of luxury. They were pleased with my “discretion.” Alistair waved a dismissive hand, as if shooing away a troublesome servant. “Very well. You may go now. The steward will show you to a quiet courtyard. Your mother will come to see you later.” I turned, without a single backward glance. As I stepped out of the study, I immediately bumped into the woman who had lived my life for forty years, Lydia Blackwood. She was resplendent in fine silks and glimmering jewels. She rushed forward, grasping my hands, her eyes wide and red-rimmed with feigned concern. “Sister, please don’t be angry with Father and Arthur. They only wish to protect the family’s reputation. You’ve just returned from the countryside, and there are many customs to learn. I will help you.” She played the part of a loving sister, as if my supposed humiliation pained her more than it did me. I gently withdrew my hands and said nothing. Undeterred, she softly added, “Oh, and Sister, in a few days, it will be Father’s sixtieth birthday. Many distinguished guests from the capital will attend, so we must ensure everything is perfect.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice, but a triumphant glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Don’t worry, Sister, I’ll have a suitable dress prepared for you. Just… perhaps it would be best if you spoke little that day. Just to avoid… embarrassing the family.” I met her gaze, noting the barely concealed smugness, and smiled. Lydia’s hypocrisy was so blatant, only the Blackwood family, blind with self-importance, could fail to see it. 3 When the steward led me to the most secluded courtyard in Blackwood Manor, I barely spared a glance for the overgrown weeds and cobwebs in the corners. It was quiet, and that suited me just fine, as I wouldn’t be staying long anyway. I had just settled down when Lydia arrived, accompanied by two maids. She carried a pile of her old, worn-out clothes and a few tarnished, inexpensive trinkets, presenting them with an air of solicitous kindness. “Sister, you’ve just returned from the countryside. I imagine you’re unaccustomed to the silks and satins of the manor. I’ve chosen these for you; the fabric is softer, so you can ease into them.” Her voice dripped with ill-concealed superiority. “These trinkets aren’t valuable, of course, but they’re perfectly presentable for common outings. Please, don’t feel ashamed to wear them.” She expected to see me overwhelmed with gratitude, or perhaps cringing with shame. Instead, I calmly picked up a garment, shook off the dust, and folded it neatly. “Thank you, Sister.” My indifferent reaction momentarily startled her. Then, any lingering trace of caution vanished, replaced by a knowing condescension. In her eyes, I was merely an unworldly countrywoman, easily swayed by scraps and grateful for any mercy. She smiled, satisfied, believing she had firmly established her dominance. “I’m glad you like them, Sister. I won’t disturb your rest any further.” Lydia had barely left when Lady Blackwood, my biological mother, arrived. She glanced around the dilapidated courtyard, then at me, her expression perfunctory. “You’ve suffered much during your time in the countryside.” Behind her stood two imposing matrons, their gazes assessing me as if I were a piece of merchandise to be valued—cold and detached. “In three days, it will be the Dowager Duchess’s eightieth birthday. Guests from all the prominent families in the capital will be here.” My mother’s voice held no warmth whatsoever. “Your father has decided to introduce you as an adopted daughter at the banquet. This is a great fortune for you. You must learn to appreciate it.” I nodded, again saying nothing. She seemed pleased by my “obedience” and nodded to one of the matrons behind her. The woman immediately stepped forward and tossed a wrapped bundle onto the table. “This is for you. Wear this to the banquet.” She spoke with a condescending air of command, not a suggestion. The bundle contained a dress. It was an old-fashioned, dull rust-red, at least a decade out of style. The fabric was coarse, the kind even the lowest servants in the manor might disdain. “As a daughter of Blackwood Manor, even an adopted one, your every word and action reflects on our family’s reputation,” she continued, her voice sharp. “And that wretched thing on your wrist? Take it off before the banquet. It’s not fit for display.” She cast a disgusted glance at my jade bangle. “There will be many eyes and ears that day. You would do well to be modest, speak little, and avoid making a fool of yourself and embarrassing the entire manor.” With that, she turned and left, as if another moment in my presence would soil her shoes. I looked at the bangle on my wrist. It was a flawless emerald-green jade, exquisitely crafted and shimmering with life. Blackwood Manor, in their arrogance, assumed it was a cheap trinket from the countryside. They had no idea that this single bangle could buy their entire estate ten times over. I casually tossed the offensive dress back onto the table, a private, knowing smile playing on my lips. The Dowager Duchess’s birthday banquet? It was high time my three children came to liven things up. 4 Blackwood Manor was a whirlwind of activity, frantically preparing for the Dowager Duchess’s birthday banquet. My courtyard, the Sunset Garden, remained an oasis of calm; no one remembered there was anyone living there. I reveled in the peace, then sought out a young, unfamiliar stable boy who had helped carry my luggage. I slipped him a heavy silver coin. His eyes widened, and he stammered, asking what my command was. “Deliver a letter for me.” Back in my room, I unfolded a rough piece of parchment on the dusty table and picked up a brush. I wrote only four words: “All well, do not worry.” No signature, no return address. I folded the letter, slipped it into the plainest envelope I could find, and handed it to the stable boy. I simply told him to take it to “The Lucky Coin” general store in the South Quarter and give it to the shopkeeper. The stable boy, clutching the silver and the letter, departed whistling happily. With that done, I had nothing left to do. I pulled a chair into the courtyard and watched the tenacious wild grass growing in the cracks of the wall, unattended but thriving. I found it quite interesting. Occasionally, Lydia would “kindly” pass by my courtyard gate, casting a pitying, triumphant glance my way before shaking her head and sighing as she walked off. She likely imagined I was mesmerized by the manor’s wealth, yet tormented by my inability to fit in, left to languish in this dilapidated garden, consumed by self-pity. In her eyes, I was a pathetic, tragic figure. But she didn’t understand. I wasn’t pitying myself. I was simply waiting. The letter was sent. The people I was waiting for would arrive soon. That night, I dreamt. I was back in our little cottage in the village. My husband sat by the lamp, reading. My eldest daughter massaged my shoulders. My eldest son polished his long rifle in the yard. Even my youngest, usually so restless, helped me sort medicinal herbs. A family, content and together. I jolted awake, the moonlight cold through the window. A sudden wave of longing washed over me. I missed them. I wondered if they had received my letter. 5 Soon, the day of the banquet arrived. I was seated in the most inconspicuous corner, at a table with only a dish of stale peanuts and a pot of lukewarm tea. Lydia, shimmering in an extravagant cloud-brocade gown, flitted through the crowd, basking in admiration and flattery. Her laughter was light and melodious, her every glance perfectly calibrated for grace and nobility. After several rounds of wine, Duke Alistair Blackwood rose, cup in hand, his face flushed with good cheer. He cleared his throat, and the hall fell silent. He began with polite platitudes, thanking everyone for attending. Then, his gaze casually drifted to my corner. “There is one more matter I wish to announce today,” he declared, his voice booming, carrying an air of charitable condescension. “This is Rosalind, an… adopted daughter of Blackwood Manor.” The word “adopted” caused a ripple of murmuring throughout the hall. I heard the noblewomen at the next table whispering. “An adopted daughter, you say? I knew it! The true daughter of Blackwood Manor wouldn’t dress like a common countrywoman!” “Shh, lower your voice. She’s still recognized by the Duke. We must show some respect to the family.” Lydia stood beside Lady Blackwood, a barely perceptible smirk playing on her lips, her eyes filled with silent mockery directed at me. I calmly took a sip of my bitter, cleansing tea. Alistair seemed displeased by my composure. He frowned, then dismissed me from his thoughts, turning to introduce Lydia with words brimming with pride and affection. Soon, it was time for the guests to present their gifts to the Dowager Duchess. Lydia, as the Blackwood family’s most cherished jewel, was naturally the first. She held a delicate silk box, her steps graceful, poised to accept the admiration of the crowd… Just then, a clear, ringing voice announced: “Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Amara, arrives!” Everyone gasped. In an instant, led by Duke Alistair, the entire assembly of nobles and dignitaries dropped to their knees, their voices echoing, “Hail, Your Majesty the Queen! Long live the Queen!” I did not kneel. Firstly, the small table in front of me offered no room. Secondly, I saw no reason to. In the deathly silence that followed, Queen Amara, radiant in her royal regalia, entered, surrounded by palace guards. Her gaze was fixed forward. She did not look at Duke Alistair or Lydia, who knelt closest to the entrance. Instead, she walked directly through the sea of bowed heads, straight to my humble corner. She stopped three paces before me. Then, to the disbelief of every person in the hall, she performed a deep, formal curtsy, a gesture of profound respect. “Your daughter greets you, Mother.” 6 The hall was utterly, completely silent. Alistair’s face, flushed with pride moments before, turned bone-white. His lips trembled, unable to form a single word. Beside him, Lydia’s face was ashen, her eyes wide with absolute disbelief. Queen Amara paid them no mind. She stepped forward, affectionately taking my hand. She leaned in, her voice a low murmur meant only for my ears. “Mother, you have been wronged.” Throughout it all, she never once glanced at Duke Alistair or Lydia, who were still kneeling on the floor. I patted her hand, a silent assurance that I was fine. Only then did she turn to the assembly, her voice cool and clear. “You may all rise.” As if granted a reprieve from death, everyone shakily rose to their feet. But no one dared to sit again, standing with bowed heads, too terrified to even breathe loudly. A chief palace attendant stepped forward, holding a large, golden-yellow silk cloth covering a magnificent rosewood tray. Queen Amara herself unveiled it. A collective gasp swept through the guests. On the tray, stood a coral tree, nearly three feet tall, a vibrant, luminous blood-red. Dangling from its branches were twelve East Sea pearls, each the size of a pigeon’s egg. Its value alone could likely purchase half of Blackwood Manor. Everyone assumed it was a birthday gift for the Dowager Duchess. Alistair took a half-step forward, about to voice his gratitude. But Queen Amara didn’t spare him a glance. She personally took the coral tree and presented it to me. “Mother,” she said, her smile as gentle and respectful as it was when we were alone in our home. “This is a birthday gift from His Majesty and myself, for you. I know you dislike extravagance, but this symbolizes long life and enduring fortune. I pray you will not scorn it.” Another wave of stunned silence. A birthday gift… for me? If so, what was this lavish banquet the Blackwood family had so grandly organized for the Dowager Duchess? But an even more crushing blow was yet to come. Queen Amara turned slightly, addressing the direction where the Dowager Duchess sat, her voice clear and resonant. “And, in passing, a birthday blessing for my grandmother.”

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Seven years. Seven years since they found me and brought me “home.” And in that time, I did everything they asked. I married a man I despised. I gave birth to a daughter, Lily, now three years old. Meanwhile, Olivia, the girl who took my place, a year my senior, was still the baby of the family, coddled and adored. The war between the real and fake heiress was long over. A distant memory. My family was supposed to be at peace. So, as my husband was beating me to the brink of death, I called them. “I’m dying,” I whispered into the phone. “Can you please, just like you brought me home all those years ago, come bring Lily home?” 1 I knew this was it. The end. That’s why I didn’t call 911. I called my family. My mother answered. She was in the middle of a manicure; her voice was clipped with annoyance. “What is it now?” I pressed a hand to my neck, trying to stem the flow of blood that seeped through my fingers. “I think… I think I’m dying. Can you come get Lily?” Lily was only three. She was upstairs, asleep, oblivious to the carnage downstairs. The floor around me was a glittering mosaic of shattered wine bottle glass. My husband, Marcus, having spent his rage, was passed out on the sofa, snoring. My blood wouldn’t stop. “Emma, for God’s sake, are you ever going to stop with this drama?” My brother, Ethan, had snatched the phone. His voice was a whip crack of fury. “You’ve been married four years! Every time you call it’s either ‘I want a divorce’ or ‘He’s going to kill me.’ Are things really that bad?” I said nothing. Maybe it was the pain, or the blood loss, but a profound weariness settled over me. Looking back, I’d been tired for a very, very long time. At five, I was stolen, forced to work like an animal in a desolate rural town, under a sky that never seemed to clear. My back ached with a fatigue no child should ever know. At fifteen, I was returned to a home that wasn’t mine, walking on eggshells around the perfect daughter they already loved. I spent countless nights crying myself to sleep, exhausted from the effort of trying to exist in the spaces she left behind. At eighteen, I was married off to a second-generation monster with a heavy hand. To avoid the beatings, I played the part of the perfect, subservient wife, my every waking moment dedicated to soothing his temper. My skin crawled with exhaustion. At twenty, depression became a suffocating blanket. Only Lily’s smile kept me from stepping off the ledge I stared over every day. The exhaustion was a constant ringing in my ears, a stabbing pain in my heart. And now, at twenty-two, a shard of glass had sliced open my carotid artery. Suddenly, I wasn’t tired anymore. Because finally, I was allowed to die. “This isn’t an act,” I told Ethan, my voice a gurgle. “I’m really dying. Please, just come quickly. I don’t want Lily to be scared.” The truth was, I hadn’t cried wolf that many times. I’d only mentioned divorce three times. Their annoyance was so palpable I never dared bring it up again. I’d only shown them my injuries four times. They didn’t believe me, so I stopped showing them. Seven years since they brought me home. Seven calls for help. Was that really so many? “Then just die,” Ethan spat. “If you’re dead, we’ll come get Lily.” 2 He hung up. I knew he wouldn’t come. Seven years. My eighth cry for help. Another failure. A sad, hollow smile touched my lips. I slumped against the wall, one side of my body burning hot. The steam was rising from my own blood. I glanced upstairs. It was quiet. Lily was still asleep. Or maybe she was awake, huddled under her covers, trembling. She always did that. The thought sent a sharp, agonizing pain through my chest. I tried to pull myself up, to crawl to her, but my strength was gone. What was I going to do? My tiny daughter, shaking in her bed, and I couldn’t do a single thing to help her. When I was gone, if no one came for her, she would be left alone with that monster. How could she possibly survive? My phone buzzed. A text message. With trembling hands, I brought it to my face, struggling to focus. It was from Olivia. [Emma, it’s my 23rd birthday. The whole family’s here celebrating with me. Nobody has time for your drama.] [I don’t get it. You’ve already lost. Why can’t you just give up?] My lips moved, the taste of iron filling my mouth. I have given up. I just can’t let go of Lily. A final, desperate surge of strength flowed through me. I held down the button to record a voice message, pleading with the one person I hated most in the world. “Olivia… I’m sorry… I was wrong… I shouldn’t have been hostile… or tried to compete with you… I’ll get on my knees, I’ll… I’ll bang my head on the floor for you. Please, just come get my daughter…” The words came out in broken gasps, punctuated by my tears and the steady drip of my blood. In that moment, every shred of pride I had clung to for years shattered, ground into the dust by my own hand. I had never, ever bowed my head to Olivia. I was the true daughter of the Ashworth family; she was just an imposter, a cuckoo in my nest. But now, I was bowing. I had lost. “What?” Olivia’s voice came back, laced with disbelief, followed by a peal of laughter. “Are you serious? You’re… this is hilarious. You’re begging me? On your knees? For real? Go on then, do it! I want to hear it!” 3 So I did. I held down the voice record button, lowered my body, and slammed my forehead against the hard floor. Thud. Thud. Thud. I sent the message. The world spun. I collapsed, panting like a dying dog on the cold tile. Olivia’s laughter echoed again. “Oh my god, you actually did it? Haha! I have to say, that feels pretty good. It took you seven years, but I finally broke you!” Yes. She had broken me. “Bring… Lily… home…” I managed to whisper into the phone, one last time. Her tone shifted instantly, turning sharp and cold. “What did you say? Emma, are you messing with me? A second ago it was ‘bring your daughter home.’ Now it’s ‘bring Emma home’? Deep down, you still want to come back, don’t you!” I blinked, my mind a thick fog. Did I say my own name? No, I meant Lily. Bring Lily home! I didn’t have a home to go back to. But Lily did! But I couldn’t form another word. I had nothing left. “Emma? Cat got your tongue? Busted.” Olivia’s voice was laced with triumph. In the background, I could hear the deep, authoritative voice of my father. “Emma, that’s enough drama,” he said, his voice carrying clearly through the phone. “I’ll be visiting the Ryan estate in a couple of weeks. I’ll see you then.” A couple of weeks. A family member was finally coming to see me. But I wouldn’t be here. I was already gone. Lily, I’m so sorry. Mommy couldn’t get you out of this hell after all. I just hope ghosts are real. So I can watch over you a little while longer. 4 When I opened my eyes again, I was floating. Floating above my own body. So, ghosts were real. Dawn was breaking, but the house was silent. Marcus had fired all the staff years ago, forcing me into the role of maid. It made it easier for him to abuse me without witnesses. Even in broad daylight, no one would come. I realized Marcus was waking up; his snores had stopped. I didn’t care about him. I drifted upstairs, through the wall, and into Lily’s bedroom. Just as I’d feared, she was curled into a tight ball under the covers, her eyes squeezed shut. The pillow was soaked with her tears. The sheets beneath her were wet, too. She’d wet the bed in her terror and hadn’t dared to move. My heart, or whatever passed for it now, ached with a phantom pain. I reached out to stroke her cheek, but my hand passed right through her. Downstairs, a strangled cry. Marcus must have found my body. As I expected, he soon began the gruesome task of taking me apart. Even as a ghost, a chill I couldn’t explain settled deep within me. The depths of human evil were on full display in Marcus Ryan. And this was the man my family had chosen for me. Originally, Olivia was supposed to marry him. The two families had already agreed to the union. The Ryan Corporation was the biggest player in the city, and Marcus himself was handsome, charismatic, with a brilliant future. Olivia had been thrilled, even going on a few dates with him. But then the scandal broke. Marcus had been implicated in the death of a girl at a club—abuse that had gone too far. The story was ugly. My parents and Ethan grew worried. They feared he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a violent sociopath. They decided Olivia shouldn’t get any closer to him. But they couldn’t afford to offend the Ryan family, so they offered a substitute. Me. “Emma is our biological daughter, after all. She and Mr. Ryan are a much better match.” “Our Emma is gentle and obedient, not like Olivia, who runs around all day and doesn’t act like a lady at all!” “Besides, Olivia doesn’t want children yet. She’s still a child herself. It’s better she doesn’t marry just yet; we wouldn’t want her to embarrass us!” That’s what they’d said. Every word was a criticism of Olivia, a justification to the Ryan family for the switch. Thinking back on it now, every one of those criticisms was drenched in love. I let out a bitter, silent laugh and drifted into the bathroom to watch Marcus at his work. 5 Marcus’s face was sheet-white. He muttered and cursed as he worked. To steel himself, he kept insulting me, his words a venomous litany. He called me a whore, said I’d been passed around by hundreds of men, that I was filth and didn’t deserve him. That I got what I deserved. I didn’t understand. Where did this come from? His own frantic whispers provided the answer. “Don’t you blame me, you slut. Olivia told me everything. She told me all about you. About how you were passed around that hick town like a party favor. That you’d even had an abortion. What right did you have to marry me? You deserved every beating I gave you! Your death is on you!” And there it was. It had been Olivia all along. No wonder. When we were first married, Marcus had been kind, respectful even. Then, one day, he just snapped. The change was sudden, absolute. The abuse began, escalating until it finally killed me. Olivia. You are truly ruthless. I had already lost everything, and still, you wouldn’t let me live. By sunset, Marcus was finished. He packed my remains into bags and stuffed them into two large freezers. Then he scrubbed the living room until it gleamed, leaving no trace of what had happened. At some point, Lily had crept out of her room. She was crouched by the second-floor railing, peering timidly at the scene below. Marcus looked up, his eyes catching hers. His voice was the growl of a demon. “Lily. What did you see?” She was too terrified to speak. “I said, tell me!” he roared. The sound shocked a response out of her. She shook her head frantically. “Nothing… I don’t know…” I was torn between rage and a heart-wrenching pity, wishing I could sink my teeth into his throat. But I couldn’t touch him. Marcus snorted and grabbed a few bags of chips and bread from the pantry, tossing them up the stairs. “You stay up there. If you come down, I’ll break your legs.” Lily nodded in terror and scrambled back into her room. Without another glance, Marcus grabbed one of the bags from the freezer and slipped out of the house under the cover of darkness. A few moments later, Lily crept out again. She watched the front door for a long time before tiptoeing down the stairs. My ethereal heart pounded. What was she doing? She walked to the freezer, the one in the corner, and with all her might, pried open the bottom door. My head was nestled among bags of frozen meat. “Mommy…” she whispered. Tears I could no longer shed streamed down my face. She had seen everything. 6 The days that followed were a blur of Marcus disposing of my body. He’d take a piece with him each day, but sometimes he’d bring it back, defeated. Getting rid of a body in a bustling metropolis wasn’t as easy as he thought. My head, at least, remained in the freezer. Lily was obedient. She only snuck downstairs to look at me when Marcus was out, her silent tears a constant companion before she’d flee back to her room. She lived entirely on the second floor, her only food the stale bread and snacks he’d thrown at her. It was a suffocating, hopeless existence even for an adult. My heart ached for her in a way I couldn’t express. Finally, I drifted out of the house, desperate to find a solution. Without thinking, I found myself floating towards my parents’ home. The villa, so familiar yet so alien, glowed with a warm, inviting light. On impulse, I passed through the walls. Olivia was on the sofa, throwing a tantrum. “But you promised we’d go on vacation tomorrow! I already planned everything!” Though a year older than me, Olivia had always acted like a spoiled child at home. My father chuckled, indulging her. “I know, honey, Daddy messed up the dates. I have to go to Ryan Corporation tomorrow to sign the new contract. I’ll stop by and see your sister while I’m there. We can go on our trip the day after.” “He’s right, sweetie,” my mother chimed in, a fond smile on her face. “The contract is important. Don’t be difficult.” Ethan, flipping through some documents nearby, looked up. “I can handle the signing. You two should go on the trip with Olivia. It’s more important.” “Yes, yes! I want to go on vacation!” Olivia stomped her foot, the picture of petulance. Honestly, I envied her. In the ten years I was gone, I had never learned how to throw a tantrum. After I came back, I never dared. Only in the foggiest of memories, from before I was five, could I recall ever being so carefree. “Well…” my father hesitated. “I really should check on Emma. It’s been years since I’ve been to her house.” At the mention of my name, Olivia’s face darkened. She crossed her arms. “Fine. Go. She is your real daughter, after all.” My father immediately backpedaled, cooing as if to a small child. “That’s not what I meant. I just feel that if we don’t visit for too long, the Ryans will think we don’t take the partnership seriously.” My mother nodded in agreement. “He’s right. The families are connected. We need to show we care. How about this: tomorrow, I’ll go with you on the trip, and your father will go sign the contract.” Olivia was finally satisfied, beaming as she popped a pastry into her mouth. The picture of a happy, harmonious family was complete. I hung silently in the air, motionless. Suddenly, my mother glanced in my direction, though of course, she saw nothing. She rubbed her chest. “That’s strange,” she murmured. “I just felt a sudden pang in my heart.” “Are you okay, Mom?” Ethan asked. My father and Olivia both looked at her. She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. I can’t explain it. Just a little… uneasy. Must be getting old.” They all laughed. Olivia quickly showered her with compliments about how young and beautiful she still looked, making my mother preen. But she kept rubbing her chest. 7 Late that night, my mother couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, waking my father. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he grumbled. “I have to be up early tomorrow.” “I don’t know. My heart is just racing. I feel so anxious.” My father considered it. “Are you worried about the contract tomorrow? We’ve been working with the Ryans for years. It’ll be fine.” “It’s not the contract,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t put my finger on it.” He frowned. “Then what is it? Emma? Did her phone call a while back get to you?” My mother froze, her hand flying to her chest again. My father laughed softly. “What’s with that look? Suddenly you’re so concerned about Emma? She’s fine. She’s living the high life married to Marcus Ryan.” My mother was quiet for a long moment before sighing heavily. “I don’t think she’s fine at all. The last time she visited, her wrists were covered in bruises.” My father fell silent. She continued, her voice low. “She kept asking for a divorce, begging us to help her. I think Marcus treats her terribly.” Silence from my father. I hovered over their bed, my dead heart giving a faint, useless flutter. You knew, Mom? You knew? Then why… why didn’t you help me? My mother provided the answer. “But what could we do? We couldn’t let Olivia marry him. Olivia’s never known a day of hardship in her life. She couldn’t have handled Marcus’s temper. Emma… she suffered for ten years. She’s much tougher. A few beatings here and there won’t break her. It’s not like it will kill her.” My father nodded in the darkness. They turned off the lights and settled into sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. My heart returned to its silent, dead stillness. I turned and drifted away.

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My mother-in-law was dangling from the rooftop of a 28-story building. My wife, Seraphina, the best sharpshooter on the force, had a hundred percent chance of taking out the kidnapper with a single shot. But the new intern, Hunter, looked at her with pleading eyes. He said it was his first time facing a life-or-death situation and he wanted to find the courage to take the shot. Seraphina handed him her rifle. The shot rang out. The bullet went wide. The rope snapped. My mother-in-law’s body plummeted, hitting the pavement with a sickening, final thud. Seraphina wrapped her arms around Hunter, comforting him softly. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have let you.” She didn’t even glance down at the street below. Only after she had calmed Hunter down did she finally walk over to me. “Liam, honey, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save your mom.” I froze. My mom? But my mom was at home right now, cooking my favorite soup, waiting for me to come home. 1. Behind the police tape, I stared at the crimson stain on the asphalt, my mind a complete blank. Only after she had thoroughly soothed Hunter did Seraphina finally remember I was there. “Liam, honey, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save your mom.” There was no grief in her voice, no pain in her eyes. Only a hollow sense of duty, and a palpable wave of relief. I remained rooted to the spot. My mom? My mom should be at home right now, wearing her apron, simmering the fish-head and tofu soup I loved, waiting for me to get back from work. That warm, comforting image clashed with the cold, bloody scene before me in the most grotesque way imaginable. Hunter peeked out from Seraphina’s embrace, looking at me with timid eyes. “Liam… don’t blame the Captain. It’s all my fault… I was just so desperate to prove myself…” Before he could finish, Seraphina pulled him back, her voice sharp. “This has nothing to do with you! It was my decision!” She turned to me, her tone hardening into something cold and brittle. “The kidnapper was a maniac. Even if Hunter hadn’t hit the rope, your mother was probably a goner anyway. She’s gone. Can you please not make a scene?” I finally understood. She thought the person who had died was my mother. And she naturally assumed I would throw a fit, that I would take my anger out on her precious intern. An arctic chill shot up from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. I looked at this woman I had loved for five years, the woman I shared a bed with. “Seraphina, that was your mother! She was the closest person you had in the world!” I thought I had made myself perfectly clear, but she obviously didn’t grasp the meaning of my words. Her colleagues around us cast sympathetic glances my way. Clearly, they all thought the same thing she did. Seraphina’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Liam, stop with the spoiled tantrums. I told you, this is not Hunter’s fault.” She reached out to take my hand. The same hand that had held a sniper rifle steady on a hundred training fields, the same hand that had gently straightened my tie. Right now, it just felt filthy. With every ounce of strength I had, I wrenched my hand away. 2. I went to the morgue alone. Lifting the thin white sheet, I looked at my mother-in-law’s face, now an unrecognizable ruin from the fall. The tears I had been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face. After my own parents, she was the kindest person to me in the world. When Seraphina was away on long training assignments, she would come over to keep me company and help tidy the apartment. She remembered all my favorite dishes and would cook them for me, always trying new recipes. Just last week, she had held my hand, chattering away. “Liam, after Sera’s next mission is over and she has some time off, I’m going to knit you two a matching set of sweaters.” Her voice, her smile, they were still so vivid in my mind. Now, she was just a cold body on a steel table. The morgue door swung open. Seraphina walked in, with Hunter in tow. Her voice was glacial. “Liam, if you’re done looking, let’s go. Staring won’t bring your mother back to life.” Hunter offered me a tissue with a theatrical sniffle, his voice thick with fake emotion. “Liam, I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s my fault for being so eager… If it wasn’t for me, your mom wouldn’t have…” My hand flew up, and with all my strength, I struck him. The sound of the slap echoed crisply in the cold room. SMACK! Hunter staggered back, clutching his cheek, a look of disbelief on his face. Seraphina exploded. She shoved me hard, shielding Hunter with her body. “Liam, are you insane?! Hunter feels guilty enough as it is! What more do you want?!” The push sent me stumbling backward. My head slammed against the cold, tiled wall. A sharp pain lanced through my skull, followed by the warm trickle of liquid. I touched the back of my head and my fingers came away sticky with blood. I pointed a trembling finger at the shrouded gurney. “Seraphina, are you even human?!” I screamed, my voice raw. “That woman raised you! She gave you everything for decades!” Seraphina’s protective stance wavered for a fraction of a second. But a small cough from Hunter snapped her back to attention. “What are you talking about? It was your mother who died. She raised you. What does that have to do with me? You’re so desperate to frame Hunter that you’d curse my own mother to death? You’re being completely irrational.” My heart turned to ash. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Fine, Seraphina. If I’m so irrational, then there’s no reason for us to be together anymore. Let’s get a divorce.” 3. Hunter burst into tears, his whole body trembling. “Liam, I know you hate me! But you can’t use divorce to force the Captain to punish me! Sob… I really didn’t mean to hit the rope!” Seraphina’s chest heaved with fury. She looked at me as if I were a vile criminal. She pulled Hunter into her arms, gently wiping away his tears. When she looked back at me, her face was a mask of impatience and disgust. “Liam, how long are you going to keep this up?” “Hunter is just a rookie. Even if he made a mistake, it’s understandable. Are you threatening me with divorce just to ruin his career?” “Your mother is dead. I understand you’re grieving. But you can’t drag everyone down into your hell with you!” “You know my mother adored you, always treated you like her own son. You’re making this scene because you know she’ll tear into me to defend you, right? To get your revenge?” Watching her so righteously defend another man, I suddenly felt like I was watching a bizarre, tragic play. The girl who once beat up a street punk for shoving me was gone forever. From behind her, Hunter’s face emerged. A flicker of triumph flashed in his red-rimmed eyes before he resumed his innocent, wounded expression. “Captain, don’t blame Liam. It’s all my fault… Why don’t you just send me to a disciplinary hearing? As long as it makes Liam feel better, I don’t mind suffering…” He sobbed as if he were the most wronged person on earth. Seraphina patted his back comfortingly. When she turned back to me, her face held nothing but icy contempt. “That’s enough. Get out of here, Liam. If you harass Hunter again, don’t blame me for what happens next.” With that, she took Hunter’s hand and walked out without a backward glance. 4. The next day, Seraphina tossed a thick stack of cash onto the table in front of me. “Liam, you’ve been making a fuss for this long, isn’t this what you wanted? Some compensation from Hunter? I’ve already taken care of your mother’s body.” I stared at the money, not moving. Seraphina thought I was unhappy with the amount. She frowned, explaining in a tone dripping with condescension. “I pulled some strings and sold her body on the black market. To a wealthy man who just died, for a… pairing. Fifty thousand. It was the best price I could get.” “At least this way, your mother can enjoy some luxury in the afterlife. Consider it your final act of filial piety.” I lifted my head and stared at her. “Seraphina, what did you say? You sold Mom?” My steady gaze made her uncomfortable. Her voice rose. “What else was I supposed to do? Leaving her in the morgue costs money every day. She was just a retired teacher, never made much in her life. Now her death has earned you fifty thousand dollars. At least she didn’t die for nothing.” Hunter chimed in at the perfect moment. “He’s right, Liam. The Captain did it for your own good. Besides, a arrangement like this is a fine final resting place. It’s better than her being all alone down there.” A metallic taste filled my mouth. I nearly choked on my own rage. My mother-in-law was a celebrated professor at a major university. Her students were everywhere. She was a kind soul who never troubled anyone and loved me like her own son. To think that after her death, her own daughter would sell her body into such a grotesque arrangement. I pushed the stack of money back towards her. “I have no use for this.” Seraphina still thought I was holding out for more. “Liam, your mother was just a teacher. Fifty grand for her life is a good deal. You should be grateful!” I shook my head, speaking each word with chilling clarity. “You’re mistaken, Seraphina. What I mean is, this is the money from selling your mother. You should be the one to collect it.” Seraphina’s face darkened instantly. She grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. “Liam, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you so desperate for more money that you’d wish my own mother dead?” Hunter’s eyes welled up again as he rushed to intervene. “Liam, please don’t be like this. The Captain is just trying to help. You can’t say things like that about her mom…” I tore my arm from Seraphina’s grasp, my voice eerily calm. “Seraphina, I’m giving you one last piece of advice. Go and get Mom’s body back. She always valued her dignity. And she loved you more than anything.” My words were the final spark. Seraphina erupted. She snatched the money and hurled it at my face. “You’re insane! My mom is perfectly fine on vacation abroad! I just checked her phone’s location yesterday. It was at the airport! You can stop this crazy act! As for your mother, getting you this fifty thousand is the most valuable thing she’s ever done!” “And another thing! You want a divorce? Fine! I’ll give you one!” She pointed a finger at my nose, her eyes filled with malice. “But I’ll be the one writing the terms. And I’m going to make you understand what happens when you piss me off!” With that, she grabbed the still-sobbing Hunter and slammed the door behind them. 5. To protect Seraphina’s “ace” reputation and the department’s public image, the higher-ups quickly classified the catastrophic failure as a “rescue accident.” And Seraphina, to shield Hunter, took full responsibility. She even held a press conference. On screen, Seraphina looked gaunt, with dark circles under her eyes. She offered a “sincere” apology to the countless cameras. But every word she spoke was a defense of Hunter. “…As an intern, Officer Hunter’s willingness to step up in such a critical moment, his courage in offering to take the shot himself, is truly commendable.” “Though the result was tragic, there is honor in his attempt.” Hunter, dressed in somber clothes, wept uncontrollably for the cameras. He recounted again and again how his “operational error” and “lack of mental fortitude” led to the tragedy, professing that he would be “haunted by regret for the rest of his life.” His masterful performance quickly won the public’s sympathy. One reporter asked a pointed question. “Captain Seraphina, why is your husband, Mr. Liam, not present at today’s press conference?” A shadow of sorrow and exhaustion flickered across Seraphina’s face at the perfect moment.

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It was a national holiday. My little sister wanted to lie down across the entire back seat to sleep, so my mother told me to get in the trunk. I obeyed, folding my thin, frail body into a painfully contorted position. “Don’t crush the luggage,” my mother said, her voice flat. Then she slammed the trunk shut. The suffocating heat of the enclosed space and the lurching of the car triggered my asthma. I fumbled in my pocket for my inhaler, only to find the canister was empty. An image flashed in my mind: my sister handing me the inhaler earlier that day, a knowing, malicious smile on her face. As my vision blurred, I heard my mother’s voice, cold and distant. “We’ll just drop her off at my cousin’s place. Give her a little extra money. I’m so sick of looking at her.” Tears streamed down my face, but I was smiling. Don’t worry, Mom. You won’t have to be sick of me for much longer. 1. In the final moments of consciousness, they say hearing is the last sense to go. I heard my mother finally mention me, her voice, which had been so warm a moment before, turning to ice. “We were supposed to have a nice, relaxing trip, and now we have to make this stupid detour to my cousin’s…” She clicked her tongue, the sound full of irritation. The mere thought of me was enough to ruin her mood. Today was a holiday. The whole family was going on a trip to the capital, and my mother had told me to pack a bag. I was surprised, and so happy. I thought, for a moment, that I was finally being included, that I was finally a part of the family. I never imagined she was planning on throwing me away, like a piece of trash. In the dark, stuffy trunk, the only sound was my own ragged, desperate breathing. Cold sweat poured down my face. My chest felt like it was being crushed. Suffocation and despair washed over me in a final, crushing wave. At the very end, I curled into a ball, like an infant in the womb, and instinctively whispered the name I had spent my entire life hoping would answer me. Mom… Mom… I died. My soul drifted out of the dark trunk. I floated past my sister in the back seat, sleeping peacefully under a pink, hand-knitted blanket my mother had made for her. My mother was texting my great-aunt, who was being evasive, leaving her messages on read. She typed again, her patience wearing thin. [Cici is very capable. She can handle all the housework, you won’t have to worry about a thing. She’s not very bright, not cut out for school, so you don’t need to waste money on that.] She was like a desperate salesperson trying to offload defective merchandise. I reached out, wanting to smooth the worried frown from her brow, to tell her, Mom, don’t worry. I’m dead now. The baby you tried to abort, the stain you could never wash away, the landmine you were always trying to avoid, is finally gone from your life. The car soon arrived at my great-aunt’s house. Only my mother got out. “Oh, I was starting to think you weren’t coming! Shouldn’t you be enjoying the holiday?” “Auntie, we talked about this. Cici isn’t used to the city. I don’t have a choice…” My mother didn’t give her a chance to refuse, pulling a thick wad of cash from her purse. To my surprise, my great-aunt didn’t take it. She glanced at the money, her face a mask of conflict, but then shook her head. “You know how it is here. I don’t make the decisions in this house.” My mother knew it was a lost cause. Her frown deepened. “Where’s Cici? I’ve hardly ever seen the poor girl. Let her come out and say hello.” My great-aunt was trying to ease the tension. My mother turned and looked toward the trunk. Is she going to find me? What will she do when she finds out I’m dead? A sliver of dark anticipation bloomed in my chest. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” my great-aunt said, her voice dropping, “but if you hadn’t been so foolish back then, none of this would be happening. You have to pay for the mistakes you make when you’re young.” The comment struck a nerve. My mother’s face went cold. “We’re leaving,” she snapped, turning and getting back in the car without another word. 2. My mother hated me. She was the only person from her village to ever go to college, but she got pregnant during her freshman year. She was young, naive, and completely infatuated with my father, a man ten years her senior. She dropped out of school, cut ties with her family, and threw herself into a life she would come to regret forever. A year later, she showed up on my grandmother’s doorstep and left me there. She went back to school, got a respectable job in the city, and started a new family. She had a wealthy husband and a beautiful daughter. She was a success story, a happy, fulfilled woman. She never went back to the small, gossipy village that remembered her as a cautionary tale. Until I was fourteen. At my grandmother’s funeral. The woman I had only ever seen in photographs appeared before me. She was so young, she didn’t look old enough to be my mother. She went through the motions of the funeral with a cold, detached air, gave me an address, and said, “Come find me here.” Then she was gone. It was my first time in the city. I was like a stray dog, lost and scared. The apartment building had a security code. It was the first of many barriers I would never be able to cross. On the other side of that door was my mother, her husband, and her other daughter. I waited outside for a long time. It was nearly a hundred degrees. I was dizzy with the heat, sweat pouring down my face. As my consciousness began to drift, I thought of my grandmother. Whenever the other kids in the village called me a bastard, I would hide in the wheat fields, watching the waves of gold and green, and wait for her to find me. She would hold me, muttering angrily, “What’s so great about your mother anyway?” But then she would see my tears and soften. “It’s okay, Cici. When you’re a little older, your mom will come back for you.” I had looked forward to that day with all my heart. I never knew it would cost my grandmother her life. My mother did come for me. She arrived with her young daughter in tow, the smile on her face vanishing the second she saw me. That was the first time I felt the full force of her malice. She made no effort to hide her disgust. My very existence was a boomerang, returning to strike her down, to remind her of the past she had tried so desperately to bury. I was the living, breathing proof that her carefully constructed life was a lie. And then, her precious daughter started accusing me of bullying her. My mother finally snapped. She decided to get rid of me. “Alright, don’t be angry. We’ll just send her to a boarding school,” my stepfather said, his voice casual as he drove. “Ava wants to go to the theme park in the capital. You should book the tickets, look up some guides. Don’t waste your energy on this. We’re on vacation.” At the mention of a theme park, my sister, Ava, woke up immediately. She started chattering excitedly about what rides she wanted to go on, even offering to use her allowance to buy my mother a magic wand. They laughed together, a happy, perfect family. They had already forgotten about me in the trunk. Around noon, we finally arrived at the theme park. My mother checked us into a hotel. A princess-themed suite that cost over a thousand dollars a night. She didn’t even blink, because Ava liked it. Then she transferred a thousand dollars to Ava’s account. “Sweetie,” she cooed into the phone, “go check out the gift shops at the entrance. Buy whatever you like.” My mother never held back when it came to her daughter. She gave her anything she wanted, raised her like a princess. Ava lived in a pink, lace-filled room full of toys, while I slept in a storage closet. My world was a three-foot-wide cot, surrounded by Ava’s cast-off toys, surrounded by the love my mother showered on her. Just like now. I stubbornly followed my mother, wanting to reach out with my ghostly hand and secretly, gently, hold hers. But then Ava squeezed between us, passing right through my soul, and wrapped her arms around my mother’s waist with a natural, easy affection I had never known. 3. I ate lunch with my mother. At home, there were only ever three chairs at the dinner table. I always sat on a small stool in the corner, eating my food quickly and silently. Ava would deliberately put spoiled food on my plate. I would eat it without complaint. I would look at my mother, hoping she would praise me for being good, for not wasting food. But her gaze was always full of disgust, as if she were looking at a filthy stray dog. Then she would turn and put a piece of meat in Ava’s bowl, telling her to eat up. I was a rat in the shadows, watching a life I could never have. Now, pretending I was still alive, I sat beside her, fulfilling my pathetic childhood dream of eating at the same table as my mother. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was a message from my great-aunt. [The Miller family in the village is willing to take Cici in.] She hesitated, then added: [But you know they have that simple-minded son. They’re probably looking for a child bride for him.] “Oh, right! Isn’t Cici still in the trunk?” My stepfather finally remembered me, slapping the table. My mother froze, a flicker of confusion on her face. Then she remembered, and her brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s the rush? It’s not like she’s going to die.” She scoffed, the sound laced with the irritation of having her good mood spoiled. [Thanks, Auntie. It’s fine, Cici’s old enough. I’m just giving her a place to stay. What happens after that is her own business. I’m not getting involved.] After sending the message, she visibly relaxed. “It’s pretty hot today. Do you think Cici will be okay in the trunk?” my stepfather asked, a hint of unease in his voice. “She grew up in that village without air conditioning and she survived, didn’t she? Besides, it’s not completely airtight. It’s only been a few hours. What’s the worst that can happen?” she said, smiling as she served Ava more food. Ava hated hearing my name. She quickly distracted my stepfather with a story. The three of them were soon laughing again, and I was forgotten. A dull, delayed ache spread through my chest. My mother didn’t care about me. I shook my head, trying to comfort myself. It’s okay. I don’t want to ruin her good mood. And I haven’t seen a big city theme park before. I want to ride the roller coaster with my mother. I followed Ava from ride to ride. I watched my mother smile at her, and I pretended she was smiling at me. Deep in my soul, something began to crumble. In the afternoon, my stepfather’s phone rang. It was an unknown number. [Hello, is this Mr. Evans? I think there might be something rotting in your car. It’s a hot day, and the smell is starting to bother people. You might want to come check it out.] My stepfather was confused, but my mother snatched the phone from his hand and hung up. “It’s probably just Cici, trying to get attention,” she said with a cold smirk. “What a nuisance. Just ignore her.” “If someone calls to tell me to come pick up her body, I’d still think it was a hassle.” The words were spoken so casually. But they hit me like a physical blow, a knife twisting in my gut. I drifted away from my mother, and saw the crowd gathered around my stepfather’s car. They were holding their noses, pointing at the trunk. “What on earth is in there? That smell is not right. It’s like something died.” The man leading the group seemed to be a vlogger, a camera hanging around his neck. His face was lit with a grim excitement. “You guys don’t think… there’s a body in there, do you?” he whispered.

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Now that I’m older, I’ve left the company in my son’s hands. But today, I decided to pay a surprise visit, disguised as a member of the janitorial staff. I hadn’t been there an hour before a young intern spilled coffee all over me. Before I could even speak, she rolled her eyes. “Hey, janitor! Are you blind or just old? How could you not see me and walk right into me?” I frowned but held my tongue. She was the one who had bumped into me, but for the sake of my undercover inspection, I didn’t want to blow my cover. I offered a polite apology and turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm, her voice sharp with anger. “Hey! Old man! You’d better clean this coffee off the floor, right now!” “And if you can’t get it spotless, you can just clear out. I’ll have you fired in a heartbeat!” I had to smile at that. She was going to fire me, the Chairman of the board? 1 I kept my temper in check. “Young lady, you were the one staring at your phone while you walked. You ran into me. Why are you the one threatening to have me fired?” A flicker of surprise crossed the intern’s face, as if she couldn’t believe a janitor would dare to talk back. She scowled, her voice rising. “So what if I wasn’t looking? Couldn’t you have looked where you were going? If you had just gotten out of my way, I wouldn’t have spilled my coffee!” “Besides,” she added with a sneer, “you’re a janitor. Cleaning up coffee is your job. What’s the problem?” “Whatever, I can’t be bothered arguing with you. Just clean it up, or you can start packing your things!” Her words made me frown. I glanced at the intern badge clipped to her blazer and felt a pang of confusion. How could a mere intern speak with such authority, threatening to fire people on a whim? She noticed my hesitation and let out a cold laugh. “Oh, what’s that? You think because I’m just an intern, I can’t get you canned?” “My father is a senior executive here. Getting rid of a bottom-feeder like you? It would take him one phone call.” So that was it. She wasn’t just arrogant; she had connections. The company had a program that offered internship spots to the families of certain high-level employees, intended as a perk to attract top talent. It seemed someone was abusing that privilege, letting their child run wild through the halls. Seeing that I was silent, a smug smirk played on her lips. “Scared now, aren’t you? So what are you waiting for? Get on your knees and wipe this floor clean!” “And another thing,” she added, her tone turning vicious. “You dared to talk back to me! You can forget about this month’s paycheck. I’ll have the finance department transfer your salary to my account as compensation for my trouble.” My jaw nearly hit the floor. Maliciously docking an employee’s wages and pocketing the cash herself? What kind of operation was this? I frowned. “The payroll is automated. How could they just divert someone’s salary to your account?” The intern laughed again. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. My mother works in the finance department. It’s none of your business!” I had only been away from the company for a year. I never imagined so many parasites could infest it in such a short time. “What are your parents’ names?” I asked, my voice cold. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “What? Thinking of reporting them? Don’t waste your time. My parents have powerful people watching their backs. Anyone who dares to take a complaint from you will be packing their own desk by the end of the day!” I was stunned. The rot within the company was far deeper than I had imagined. Just as the intern was preening, a middle-aged man rushed over, his forehead beaded with sweat. The intern’s expression immediately crumpled into a mask of pitiful victimhood. “Dad! This man knocked my coffee over, and now he’s refusing to clean it up! You have to do something!” I recognized the man: Scott Miller, the head of the tech department. I smiled to myself. I was very interested to see how this was going to play out. 2 Scott Miller barely glanced at me. I remembered then that I rarely made public appearances at the company; only the old guard, the veteran executives, would recognize my face. It was for the best. Anonymity would give me a clearer view of the company’s true state. Ignoring me, Scott took his daughter’s hand. “Jessica, it’s a special situation today. You need to come with me now.” Jessica yanked her hand away, looking baffled. “Dad! This old creep bullied me! Aren’t you going to stand up for me?” I was about to speak up and set the record straight before she could twist the story any further. But to my astonishment, Scott fixed me with a cold glare. “I don’t care what you did. Apologize to my daughter. Now.” I was dumbfounded. He didn’t even know what had happened, and he was demanding an apology? When I didn’t respond, Scott sneered. “On any other day, I’d have had you fired on the spot. But it’s your lucky day. Get on your knees, apologize to my daughter, and I’ll let this go.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. I looked at him calmly. “That’s quite the power trip. Does everyone at Lee Corp throw their weight around like you?” Scott’s face darkened. “A janitor has no right to question me. Let me tell you something: in this company, I call the shots. Even the Chairman himself would have to show me some respect!” I nearly laughed out loud. Who did he think he was? Just a department head, and he was talking like this? Show him respect? The audacity was staggering. But I still didn’t want to reveal my identity. “That’s some big talk,” I said with a cold smile. “Aren’t you afraid of biting your tongue? Your daughter was the one who ran into me. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s her.” Fury flashed in Scott’s eyes. He opened his mouth to curse at me, but his phone rang. His arrogant demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a fawning obsequiousness. “Yes, I understand.” So, that must be his backer on the other end of the line. I was curious to see who would support this kind of behavior. Scott hung up and shot me a triumphant sneer. “Today’s your lucky day, old man. The Chairman is doing a surprise inspection today. I’ll deal with you tomorrow!” My brow furrowed. I hadn’t told a soul I was coming. How did the person on the phone know? Ignoring me, Scott grabbed his daughter’s arm to lead her away. Jessica wasn’t having it. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Dad! He hasn’t apologized yet! And I want his salary transferred to my account! There’s a new handbag I want to buy this month!” Scott sighed heavily. “Sweetheart, today is different. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. The Chairman is definitely here, undercover. He could be watching us from any corner right now!” I couldn’t help but smile. No corner at all. The Chairman was standing right in front of them. Jessica glared at me. “What are you smiling at? Hmph! I’ll let you off the hook for today! If it wasn’t for that idiot Chairman showing up, I’d have you on your knees begging!” “Aren’t you worried,” I said softly, “that I might be that Chairman?” Jessica and Scott both froze. For a moment, I regretted letting my identity slip. But then, they both burst out laughing. Jessica looked me up and down with utter contempt. “Old man, have you been watching too many of those silly web dramas? You, a janitor, the Chairman? Let me guess, now you’re imagining how I’ll cry and beg for your forgiveness when I find out who you are?” “Hahaha, that’s hilarious! If you’re the Chairman, I’ll personally get on my knees and kowtow to you a hundred times!” I was taken aback. A hundred times? Her forehead would be mush. Scott pulled his daughter away. “Jessica, ignore this lunatic. We need to be careful while the Chairman’s here. If he sees us making a scene, we’ll be in big trouble.” I smiled to myself. Trouble? Oh, it was going to be much more than just trouble. 3 After Scott and his daughter left, I took a walk around the building. I wanted to check in on a few promising young employees I had personally mentored. But after searching for a while, I didn’t see a single familiar face. I asked around and learned they had all been laid off. I was stunned. I knew the company’s growth had slowed since I handed the reins to my son, but these were talented individuals I had handpicked for development. There was no way they should have been on any layoff list. An engineer I spoke to sighed. “After they were let go, our manager hired a whole new batch of people out of nowhere.” “This new group doesn’t know the first thing about the work,” he continued, his voice heavy with frustration. “All the pressure has fallen on us senior employees. If this keeps up, I’m afraid I’ll have to quit too.” The picture became crystal clear. Someone was using their authority to push out competent staff and fill the vacancies with their own friends and family, who were collecting paychecks for doing nothing. They were parasites, bleeding the company dry. What in God’s name had my good-for-nothing son been doing this past year? How could he let his people treat loyal, hardworking employees this way? Didn’t he care about morale at all? I pulled out my phone, my face grim, and dialed my son’s number. I was going to find out just what the hell he thought he was doing. The phone had barely started ringing when a hand snatched it away from me. I looked up. It was Jessica again. She threw my phone to the ground, stomped on it a few times for good measure, and glared at me. “Are you trying to cause trouble? You know the Chairman is here for an inspection, and you’re making personal calls on company time?” Swallowing my rage, I picked up my shattered phone. “What company rule says you can’t make a phone call during work hours?” Jessica crossed her arms and sneered. “Our Chairman said so! Anyone caught using their phone during work gets docked a day’s pay!” I saw red. When had I ever made such a ridiculous rule? Seeing my fury, Jessica’s smugness grew. “Oh? You have a problem with that? Take it up with the Chairman!” “And by the way,” she added, “you’ve already lost this month’s salary, so you’ll have to pay that fine out of your own pocket. Give me the cash now, and I’ll take it to finance for you.” Take it to finance? More like take it to her own wallet. I let out a cold laugh. “There’s also a rule against drinking coffee on the job. You were just doing that, weren’t you? You should be docked a day’s pay too!” She was still just a kid, and my taunt hit its mark. She exploded. “You old liar! Who said you can’t drink coffee at work?!” Mimicking her earlier tone, I replied, “Our Chairman said so. If you don’t like it, take it up with him.” “You—!” Before I could enjoy my small victory, Jessica lunged at me. “Don’t you mock me, you disgusting old man!” She shoved me hard. At my age, a fall is no small thing. A sharp pain shot through my back, and I couldn’t get up. Jessica stood over me, snarling. “Just die, old man!” “Just wait until the Chairman leaves. I don’t care who you are! You’re finished!” I gritted my teeth as I looked up at her. Finished? We’ll see about that. 4 I tried to push myself up, but a searing pain in my lower back stopped me. I was stuck until a young woman passed by and helped me to my feet. “Sir, are you alright?” I managed to stand and nodded, about to thank her. But then I heard Jessica’s mocking laugh from the side. “Well, well, if it isn’t little Miss Innocent, Chloe from the countryside. Can’t get any of the guys in the office to fall for your act, so now you’re hitting on the janitors?” Chloe immediately lowered her head, not daring to say a word. I frowned. “We’re all colleagues here. How can you speak to someone like that?” Jessica rolled her eyes at me again. “Do you own this company? What business is it of yours?” I nodded calmly. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Is that a problem?” My answer clearly infuriated her. She sneered. “Fine. If we can’t speak to colleagues that way, I’ll handle this differently.” A cruel smile touched her lips as she turned to Chloe. “Chloe, I’m officially informing you that you’ve failed your probationary period. You can pack your things and go home now.” Chloe’s head snapped up, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “Jessica, I…” Jessica cut her off impatiently. “Save it. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for getting friendly with the janitor! It’s bad for the company’s image!” Chloe was openly crying now. Suddenly, she dropped to her knees. “Jessica, please, I’m begging you, don’t make me leave. If I don’t pass my probation…” Jessica crossed her arms, looking down at her imperiously. “You’ll have to go back to your village and get married, right?” Chloe froze. Jessica’s eyes narrowed in a wicked grin. “That’s exactly why I have to get rid of you. All the men in the office are always buzzing around you. Now I’m just helping you along. You get to go get married right away. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?” Chloe’s face was ashen, her eyes filled with utter despair. I snorted and helped her to her feet. “Don’t be afraid, Chloe.” “She’s just an intern. She has absolutely no authority to fire you.” Hearing my words, a little color returned to Chloe’s cheeks. Jessica, however, was livid. She pointed a finger at me, her voice shrill. “You’re just a damn janitor! Why do you keep getting in my way? I have connections! I can fire whoever I want!” “Who the hell do you think you are? The Chairman? What I, Jessica Miller, decide to do is none of your damn business!” I stared at her, my voice level and calm. “I’m nobody special. Just the Chairman of Lee Corporation.” “That’s it!” Jessica shrieked, losing control, and lunged at me again.

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