Category: English

In the fifth year of being Adrian Thorne’s dog, he got married. His new wife, a woman who despised the very sight of me, his live-in bodyguard, decided to “introduce” me to her brother—a man with the mental capacity of a three-year-old. In front of all their friends, Adrian had said, “Honestly, you and my idiot brother-in-law are a perfect match. You’ve got that scar on your face; he won’t care that you’re ugly.” He’d leaned in, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips. “He does have a kid, though. You don’t mind being a stepmom, do you?” Why would I mind? It’s not like I wasn’t the one who gave birth to her. 1. The rumor mill of the city’s elite whispered that I was so pathetically in love with Adrian Thorne I’d willingly become his lapdog. But the truth was, before Adrian, there was someone else. That someone was his new brother-in-law, Sebastian Croft. Back then, I was young and wild. I had a string of admirers, including the boy Sebastian’s sister, Cecilia, was obsessed with. She couldn’t stand me, so she called her big brother to put the fear of God in me. At the time, Sebastian was far from a simpleton. He was a kingpin, a man who moved with ease through both the glittering upper world and the shadowy underbelly of the city. In the dim light of a private club room, his cold eyes swept over me as his men shoved me in front of him. I was all heavy makeup and dark lipstick, the picture of a teenage delinquent. He frowned in distaste, his arm draped casually over the back of the sofa, the long, elegant fingers of one hand tapping a restless rhythm. “You’re Stella Mathis?” he asked, his voice a low drawl. Before I could answer, he tossed a checkbook onto the table in front of me with a thud. “Your so-called boyfriend just ditched you and ran. How about you go out with me instead?” I stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. “If I go out with you, will you make sure I never go hungry again?” Sebastian’s men snickered. Sebastian did not. A glacial stare from him and their laughter died, their postures snapping to attention. He tapped the checkbook with a single finger. “You tell me. How much do you think it costs to keep you fed? Write whatever you want.” I picked up the pen, hesitated for a moment, and then scrawled a series of numbers. Sebastian took it, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Thirty… million?” I gave a proud, defiant nod. He leaned back against the plush sofa, lighting a cigarette with a flick of a silver lighter. He took a long drag and gestured to one of his men. A moment later, a line of them stood before me, each holding a silver briefcase. They snapped them open. They were filled to the brim with cash. Sebastian blew a perfect smoke ring. “There’s your thirty million. Now, come home with me.” He stood, took my wrist in his firm grip, and led me out of the club. I thought I’d hit the jackpot, that I’d somehow landed a man like Sebastian Croft. Until I found the paintings in his studio. In his spare time, Sebastian painted. His studio was on the third floor of his mansion, a place strictly off-limits to everyone. But my cat, startled by a sudden noise, had darted up the stairs, and I went after it. My sister and I were identical twins. The only difference was the small, red beauty mark at the corner of her right eye, like a permanent teardrop. The moment I pushed open the studio door, I understood. I was just her substitute. It all made sense now. Why, whenever he was drunk, he would pin me beneath him, his fingers tracing the lines of my face, my eyebrows, my eyes, whispering, “So beautiful… especially your eyes.” I backed out of the room, my heart a cold, heavy stone in my chest. Should I demand more money? Or should I just keep playing the part of his pretty, caged bird? I realized I didn’t want either. For once in my life, I was going to be strong. I was going to dump Sebastian Croft. I was going to show this prince that he was nothing more than a toy to me, to be discarded when I grew bored. 2. That night, I was uncharacteristically passionate. I straddled his hips, looking down at the taut lines of his muscles, the flush that colored his cheeks. I leaned down, cupped his face in my hands, and kissed his slick, swollen lips. When we were done, I got dressed and tossed a photograph onto the bed. “He’s back,” I said, my voice cool. “I won’t be coming here anymore. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” Sebastian, lounging against the pillows, snatched up the photo. His face was a mask of disbelief. The man in the picture was Adrian Thorne. The boy who had convinced his powerful grandfather to adopt me, to give me a chance at life. He’d been studying abroad, and in his absence, the Thorne family had cast me out. But now he was back, and my loyalty, my life, belonged to him. Sebastian’s voice was a roar as he lunged forward, grabbing my shoulders. “Stella, you fucking used me as a stand-in?” My gaze was steady. “So what if I did? What are you going to do, kill me?” “You think I wouldn’t dare?” But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Even with the cold metal of a gun pressed to my temple, I didn’t flinch. He saw the resolve in my eyes and finally, with a guttural snarl, he told me to get out. I slammed the door behind me without a backward glance. To force me to come crawling back, he froze the thirty-million-dollar account. I was young and naive; I didn’t understand the power of money yet. My defiance lasted a month. Then I found out I was pregnant. The doctor told me that due to a medical condition, this might be my only chance to have a child. I had to think carefully. And I wanted this baby, this person who would be a part of me, more than anything. But I knew I couldn’t support a child on my own. So I went back to Sebastian. I proposed a deal: I would carry the baby to term, and he would raise it. He agreed, but with one cold condition: he would never, ever tell the child who its mother was. I knew I had wounded his pride. He hated me. The day I went into labor, Sebastian was in a meeting overseas. I was on the delivery table, pain tearing through me, and I screamed into the phone at him. “You bastard! You promised you’d be here! Where the hell are you? Aaargh!” The contractions warped my voice. On the other end of the line, I could hear the panic in his. “But you’re not due for another week! Don’t be scared, I’m coming back! Right now!” He wasn’t lying. He was there in four hours, having chartered a private jet. He changed into scrubs and rushed into the delivery room just as the baby was crowning. I was delirious with pain. I grabbed his arm, squeezed with all my might, and with one final push, she was born. The sound of a baby’s cry cut through the sterile silence of the room. The nurse brought her to me. A girl. Sebastian had a name chosen for her: Nora. It meant honor, light. A vibrant, thriving life. When he brought her into my room to say goodbye, the news was on the TV. A breaking story about an assassination attempt on Adrian Thorne at the airport. I stared at the screen, my hand frozen on the remote. Sebastian snatched it from me and turned off the TV. “You’re supposed to be resting. No more screens.” I ignored him. He had unfrozen my account and handed me another check. “This is for your services. You are never to speak of the fact that you are my child’s mother to anyone.” I looked at the number. Fifty million dollars. He must have truly loved this child to be so generous. That, at least, brought me some peace. Nora would be better off with the Crofts than with me. I was free to go and pledge my life to Adrian Thorne. 3. Adrian Thorne, the eldest grandson of the powerful Thorne family patriarch. Orphaned at a young age, he had been raised by his grandfather. With a weak mother and a pack of greedy uncles and cousins circling like vultures, he was constantly under threat. When I was in the orphanage, on the verge of being assaulted by the predatory director, it was Adrian who had pointed me out, who had insisted his grandfather adopt me, saving me from a horrific fate. I was a weapon, forged by the old man for his grandson’s protection. After giving birth, I went back to Adrian’s side. On paper, I was his executive assistant. In reality, I was his human shield. For five years, I took bullets for him, thwarted assassination attempts, and lived on the edge. The worst time, I threw myself in front of a car meant for him. I was sent flying, and a shard of glass from the shattered windshield sliced across my face, leaving a permanent scar. But Adrian was generous. Every time I risked my life, he paid me handsomely. I had saved a small fortune over the years, enough to buy my own apartment in the heart of the city. I thought this was my life, that I would be bound to Adrian forever. But then, he got married. To my old nemesis. Sebastian’s sister, Cecilia Croft. At a company retreat, Cecilia, with all the employees as her audience, pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me. “Stella, you’re not married yet, are you? I have an idea. How about I set you up with my brother?” She paused for dramatic effect. “I know he only has the intelligence of a three-year-old, but that shouldn’t stop you from sleeping with him. And who knows, if you manage to produce a son for the Croft family, you might just secure your future!” The room erupted in laughter. It was common knowledge that Sebastian, the once-brilliant star of the Croft dynasty, had been reduced to a child after a tragic car accident a year ago. He couldn’t even feed himself, let alone father a child. Everyone knew what this was. The new Mrs. Thorne was publicly humiliating her husband’s loyal bodyguard. I looked at Adrian, who stood beside his wife, his arm around her waist. Only he could decide my fate. As if reading my mind, he finally spoke, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “Honestly, you and my idiot brother-in-law are a perfect match. You’ve got that scar on your face; he won’t care that you’re ugly.” He leaned in, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips. “He does have a kid, though. You don’t mind being a stepmom, do you?” The laughter grew louder, more cruel. A colleague, eager to suck up to the new boss’s wife, chimed in. “Go on, Stella, say yes! You’re almost thirty anyway. You’re probably barren by now.” “Yeah, and even if he is a simpleton, Mr. Croft is still gorgeous. More than a freak like you deserves!” I remained silent, my eyes fixed on Adrian. I was still waiting. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. “I know what you want,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t worry. I’ll arrange for your sister to be brought back to the country. As long as you succeed in getting pregnant with my brother-in-law’s child, I guarantee she’ll be safe.” “Fine,” I said. Then I turned to Cecilia. “Give me your brother’s number.” She stared at me, a calculating look in her eyes. After a moment, she rattled off a number. I dialed it. The phone was answered on the first ring. “Wifey!” A slightly slurred, childish voice came through the speaker, and a sudden hush fell over the room. Whispers broke out. “Oh my god, is Stella actually involved with him?” “He called her wifey! Maybe she’s really going to marry into the Croft family!” Cecilia snorted. “My brother’s an idiot. He calls everyone who dials that number wifey.” The tension broke. The laughter returned, mocking and cruel. I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. “Sebastian, where are you? I’m coming to find you.” 4. My colleagues whooped and hollered. Even Adrian sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowed. Cecilia watched him, her expression hardening with resentment towards me. “I’m at home, wifey!” Sebastian’s voice chirped happily. “I bought your favorite chocolate!” “Okay. Wait for me.” I hung up, stood, and faced Adrian. “Don’t forget your promise. I’m leaving.” Then, under the stunned gazes of everyone in the room, I grabbed my bag and walked out. “Holy crap, she’s actually doing it. She’s going for the simpleton.” “Well, he’s still rich and handsome…” “Everyone, quiet down!” Adrian snapped, slamming his hand on the table. Cecilia tugged on his sleeve. “Honey, what’s wrong? This was our plan…” Adrian froze. She was right. This was their plan. Send his most loyal dog to get close to Sebastian, to have his child. A child they could then use as a pawn, a puppet king, to seize control of the vast Croft fortune. Sebastian didn’t live at the Croft family estate. He had his own private mansion. Even now, in his diminished state, he was surrounded by a team of servants. I had been a frequent visitor in the past, and the older staff recognized me. When I said I was there to see Sebastian, they let me in without question. But the moment I stepped inside, a young woman in a maid’s uniform blocked my path, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who are you?” The butler who had let me in answered, his smile thin. “A friend of Mr. Croft’s. He gave standing orders that she is to be admitted at any time.” The maid’s face flushed with anger. “Get her out of here!” The butler didn’t move. “It’s not your place to give orders. You are a nanny, hired by Miss Croft to care for her brother. You are not the mistress of this house. Remember your station.” The nanny, whose name I would later learn was Amelia, bristled with indignation. Before she could retort, a little girl of about five came bounding down the grand staircase. She was wearing a pristine white princess dress, her long, dark hair gleaming. Her large, grape-like eyes were fixed on me. Following close behind her was a tall, lean man of about six-foot-three. He watched the girl with a gentle, vacant expression. He was dressed in a charcoal-gray vest over a matching striped shirt. As the little girl took the last leap from the stairs, he reached out and steadied her. The girl tilted her head, her gaze curious. She looked from me to Sebastian, then back again. Sebastian remained silent, his eyes also on me. Suddenly, the little girl let go of his hand and ran towards me. She threw her arms around my legs, looked up, and said in a sweet, clear voice, “Mommy!” A collective gasp went through the staff. Amelia’s jaw dropped. I saw her pull out her phone, and I knew she was recording. I knelt, stroking the little girl’s soft hair. “I’m not your mommy, sweetie. My name is Stella. I’m a friend of your aunt’s. She sent me.” Amelia’s face fell with disappointment. She put her phone away and beckoned to the child. “Nora, come here. She’s not your mother. Haven’t I told you not to talk to strangers?”

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For Thanksgiving, my mother-in-law Eleanor visited from the countryside. To celebrate, I took her to my husband Ethan’s upscale downtown restaurant, “Aria.” I ordered her favorite—Braised Sea Bass—but when she took a bite, her smile faded. The fish was ice-cold, with frost still on it. I called the manager, a sharp-looking woman who glanced at the plate indifferently. “We forgot to microwave it,” she said. “You serve pre-packaged meals?” I asked. Her face flushed. “What’s wrong with pre-packaged? You think we have time to cook from scratch?” I pointed to the sign: “Freshly Caught, Expertly Prepared.” “This is false advertising. Is this how your boss runs the business?” She smirked. “Honey, I’m the owner’s wife. You just want a free meal.” Leaning in, she hissed, “That opened package is non-refundable. With freezer costs and premium ingredients, you owe $500. You’re not leaving until you pay.” $500 for frozen fish? So this was why Ethan, a finance titan, suddenly opened a restaurant—not a passion project, but a scam to fund his mistress. I was about to call him, but she already had her phone out. 1 “Honey, you need to get down to the restaurant, fast! There are a couple of broke bitches here trying to dine and dash!” As if getting Ethan’s green light, her confidence swelled. She pointed a manicured finger at us, her voice ringing through the now-silent dining room. “Are all the men in your family dead? Is that why they sent a cheap tramp and an old crone to scam a free dinner?” she shrieked. “This is an upscale establishment! Do you really think low-life trash like you belong here? My husband is on his way. You are so, so screwed!” Her shrill tirade had captured the attention of every patron in the room. Several waiters drifted over, forming a human wall around us, their expressions just as smug. “You should probably just pay up,” one of them sneered. “Our boss’s wife isn’t someone you can afford to mess with.” “Yeah,” another chimed in. “Some influencer came in here last week, said one wrong word to her, and our boss broke his leg. Got his entire online presence wiped, too. You think you’re tougher than him?” Eleanor had lived a quiet, humble life. Never in her seventy years had she been publicly humiliated like this. Her face was pale as she clutched my sleeve, her voice a frightened whisper. “Evelyn, dear… are we in the wrong place? This can’t be my son’s restaurant, can it?” Even now, she’d rather believe we’d made a mistake than suspect Ethan of cheating. She couldn’t imagine him allowing his mistress to run a con. And why would she? To us, Ethan was the perfect man—honest, devoted to his mother, and utterly in love with his wife. A month ago, when he’d announced his plan to leave the cutthroat world of finance for the culinary arts, I had asked him why. He’d looked at me with that sincere gaze of his and spoken of the rampant food safety issues, of his dream to create a restaurant where people could eat without fear. He’d spoken of wanting to ensure no one had to eat two-year-old broccoli or beef that had been frozen for years. His passion and integrity had moved me. I never imagined that the massive investment I’d helped fund wasn’t for some noble cause. It was to build a den for his mistress. A gilded cage where she could fleece the unsuspecting. I pulled Eleanor behind me, my voice low and cold as I faced the woman. “Fine. I can’t wait to see how your husband plans to ‘teach us a lesson’ when he gets here.” 2 My words only seemed to fuel her rage. Her eyes narrowed. “You bitch,” she spat. “You’re that desperate to meet my husband?” A twisted kind of realization dawned on her face. She pointed at me, her voice rising to a triumphant shriek. “Oh, I get it now! Who complains about pre-packaged food these days? You knew this was a high-end place, so you came here to stir up trouble, didn’t you? All just to get my husband’s attention!” She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Let me tell you something. My husband is a faithful man. He wouldn’t look twice at a washed-up slut like you who’s been passed around by a thousand men!” Her voice, deliberately loud, drew every eye in the room. She started recording me with her phone, her voice a narrator’s booming accusation for her unseen audience. “Everyone, get a look at this shameless woman! She brings an old lady to my restaurant, complains about the food, complains about the price, and when all else fails, she tries to pay with her body! She was hoping the owner would show up so she could make her move! Now I’m putting her pathetic face online for the world to see. Watch out for this one, ladies, or she’ll be after your husbands next!” Murmurs rippled through the crowd of onlookers. “If you can’t afford it, don’t go out. Why harass a business owner?” “Exactly, this is an expensive place. What was she expecting?” “Trying to trade sex for a meal? If you’re that broke, go sell it on a street corner. Don’t try to steal someone else’s husband!” “You… you people…” Eleanor was so incensed by the blatant lies that she could barely breathe, let alone speak. I rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, then pointed a steady hand at the plate on our table. “We ordered the Braised Sea Bass,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. “What we received was a frozen block of fish, straight from the freezer. You can still see the ice on it. And for this, she wants to charge us five hundred dollars!” I locked eyes with the woman. “We are exercising our rights as consumers. If you’re incapable of handling a simple complaint, then by all means, let’s wait for your husband.” The fact that I dared to talk back sent her into a fury. She signaled her staff, and in an instant, they closed in around me. “Let me make this crystal clear for you,” she hissed, her face inches from mine. “My husband gave me this restaurant. My name is Jessica, and what I say goes. I say you owe me five hundred, you pay five hundred! I could serve you a plate of shit and you’d still have to pay for it, you understand? Now, if you don’t settle your bill and get on your knees and apologize to me right now, you’re not walking out of here in one piece.” 3 Jessica. The name struck me like a bolt of lightning. A few weeks ago, a package had arrived at our house. It was addressed to a Jessica, but with our home address. Curious, I opened it. Inside was a set of lingerie so scandalous it was barely there. When I showed Ethan, he didn’t even hesitate. He tossed it straight into the trash, his expression perfectly calm. “Must be a mistake,” he’d said. “Or some new kind of guerrilla marketing. Just ignore it.” The truth I hadn’t seen then was now blindingly clear. I stared at Jessica, my voice colder than the fish on our table. “I suggest you wait for Ethan. Let him be the one to tell you who, exactly, you’re talking to.” Her face contorted with rage. “You rotten bitch! So you did come here for my husband! You even know his name!” It was only then that the final, terrible piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Eleanor. This was Ethan’s restaurant. The husband this harpy was screaming about was her son. Still, she couldn’t believe it. “Young lady,” she said, her voice trembling but firm, “I am Ethan’s mother. You must be mistaken. My son would never get involved with someone like you. He is not your husband.” CRACK! The sound of the slap echoed through the restaurant. Jessica had struck Eleanor across the face with all her strength. “You old hag! A peasant who can’t even afford a frozen dinner dares to pretend she’s my husband’s mother? Who the hell do you think you are?” Eleanor was frail. The force of the blow sent her stumbling backward, and she collapsed onto the hard floor. “Mom!” I screamed, rushing to her side. I remembered the day I chose Ethan. My father had offered a fortune as a dowry for any man who would marry me and help run the family business. Suitors lined up, but only Ethan had knelt outside our gate for three days and three nights, tears in his eyes, swearing he wanted nothing but the money to save his dying mother. It was his filial piety, his profound love for his mother, that had won me over. After we married, I hired the best doctors in the country. They saved Eleanor’s life. But her heart was still weak. The doctors had warned us—no severe shocks. Now, after Jessica’s violent assault, Eleanor’s face was a deathly white. She clutched her chest, her body curling into a tight ball of agony. “Mom?” Fear seized me. “Mom, is it your heart?” My voice cracked. “Your medicine! Where is your medicine?” Her emergency pills. She never went anywhere without them. My hands flew, frantically patting down her pockets until my fingers closed around the small, brown vial. My hands shook as I twisted the cap, ready to tip the life-saving pills into her mouth. But Jessica was faster. She lunged forward and snatched the bottle from my grasp. “What’s this? The dine-and-dash failed, the ‘I’m his mother’ act didn’t work, so now you’re faking a heart attack? You really think that’s going to get you out of this?” “Give it back!” I scrambled to my feet, trying to get to her, but two of the male waiters—clearly Jessica’s friends or relatives—grabbed my arms and held me fast. My voice was a raw, desperate plea. “She is Ethan’s mother! She’s having a heart attack! She’ll die without that medicine!” 4 I thought explaining the gravity of the situation would make her see reason. I was wrong. She just scoffed, a cruel twist to her lips. “Still lying? My husband is the CEO of Apex Corporation, a man everyone looks up to. This old woman looks like she crawled out of a dumpster. How could she possibly be his mother? You two are pathetic. Do you really think anyone would believe such a ridiculous story?” Ethan’s father had died young. Eleanor had raised him alone, working herself to the bone to give him the best of everything. She lived a simple, frugal life, pouring every penny she earned into her son. Even after Ethan and I bought her beautiful new clothes, she’d save them for special occasions, preferring her old, worn-in things. Now, her humility was being used as proof against her. Seeing Eleanor’s face shift from pale white to a terrifying shade of blue, I screamed, “I’m telling the truth! She is his mother, and I am his wife, Evelyn! If you don’t believe me, video call him right now and ask!” I fought against the waiters’ grip, but they held me firm. Jessica glared at me, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’re getting more delusional by the second. One claims to be his mother, the other claims to be his wife. Don’t you own a mirror? Even if you stripped naked and begged, my husband wouldn’t give you a second glance!” The other waiters chimed in with their own vicious chorus. “That’s right! Our Jessica is the real Mrs. Chazelle!” “You’re just some hick. How dare you try to compete with her?” “I’ve never seen such a shameless woman, trying to be a homewrecker right in front of the wife!” Jessica nodded thoughtfully, then her eyes landed on the table. She picked up the plate with the frozen sea bass and dumped its contents onto the floor. Then, she ground the fish into the tile with the heel of her designer shoe. She looked down at me, a predator enjoying her power. “You want the medicine? Is that it?” she purred. “Fine. Get on your knees. Lick this fish you complained so much about off the floor, and I’ll give it to you.” My eyes shot to Eleanor, curled on the floor. She met my gaze, her voice a pained, raspy whisper. “Don’t…” Even in her agony, she didn’t want me to be humiliated for her sake. Ethan may have betrayed me, but Eleanor had always treated me like the daughter she never had. She was constantly reminding Ethan to be good to me, threatening to disown him if he ever wronged me. She insisted on living back in her hometown, not wanting to be a burden, wanting us to have our own space. Every time she visited, she’d bring bags overflowing with produce from her garden, her way of showing love. Her breathing was becoming shallower, her face turning a darker, more frightening color. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees. I bent down and, fighting back the bile rising in my throat, began to eat the pulped, dirt-caked fish from the floor. I abandoned my pride, my dignity, my everything, for the simple, desperate hope that she would live. Jessica’s triumphant laughter echoed around me. “Hahaha! Look, everyone! Doesn’t she look just like a dog? A minute ago, she was too good for our food. Now look at her gobbling it up!” The staff joined in her laughter. “Jessica’s a genius! She really knows how to put people in their place.” I ignored them, forcing down bite after gritty bite until the floor was clean. I looked up at her, my voice urgent. “I did what you asked. Now give me the medicine. Please.” Jessica let out a short, sharp laugh. “You’re even dumber than you look. You actually believed me?” “I was lying, you idiot.” And with that, she turned and hurled the medicine vial through the open window, where it disappeared with a soft splash into the decorative lake outside. “NO!” The word was torn from my throat, a raw scream of despair. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the ripples spread. On the floor, Eleanor’s body gave a final, violent shudder. Her eyes lost their focus. She weakly lifted a hand, her trembling fingers brushing away a tear from my cheek. “Evelyn,” she rasped. “I’m so sorry.” Was she apologizing for the humiliation I’d endured? Or for the son who had betrayed us both? With those last words, her hand fell limp to the floor. Her faint breathing stopped completely. “Mom? Mom, wake up! MOM!” I shook her, screamed her name, but there was no response. She was gone. My mother-in-law was dead. I couldn’t process it. We had just come for dinner at Ethan’s restaurant. A simple dinner. And now, because of this venomous monster, Eleanor was dead. A gut-wrenching sob tore through me. The shift leader knelt, checked for a pulse, and then scrambled back in terror. “Jessica! The old woman… I think she’s really dead! What do we do?” Jessica’s only reaction was a slight, annoyed frown. “She’s the one who came here to cause trouble. Her death has nothing to do with me. Besides,” she added with a dismissive wave, “my husband is the CEO of Apex. He’s got connections everywhere. With him protecting me, what is there to be afraid of?” Her words were like a magic spell, instantly calming her panicked staff. Her unrepentant arrogance ignited a firestorm of rage within me. A strength I didn’t know I possessed surged through my body. I shot to my feet and lunged, my hands closing around Jessica’s throat. “You animal! I’ll kill you!” In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make her pay for Eleanor’s life with her own. “Son of a bitch, she’s attacking the boss!” one of the waiters yelled, and a swift, hard kick sent me sprawling. The others descended on me like a pack of wolves, their fists and feet raining down blows. The pain was excruciating, my body feeling like it was being torn apart. But Jessica wasn’t satisfied. Gasping for air, she rubbed her throat, her eyes burning with hatred. “You bitch. No one has ever laid a finger on me in my entire life. Today, you’re going to learn what happens when you cross me.” She snatched a steak knife and fork from a nearby table. And plunged the fork deep into my thigh. White-hot agony shot through me. I didn’t scream. I just locked my bloody eyes on hers and snarled, “Jessica, you are going to die for this. I swear to God, you will die.” “Still making threats, are you?” she shrieked, enraged. She began stabbing me again and again, treating my body like a pin cushion. As my consciousness began to fade, a voice from the crowd shouted out. “Mr. Chazelle is here!” 5 The words “Mr. Chazelle is here” acted like a kill switch. The chaotic scene froze. The blows stopped. Everyone turned towards the entrance. Jessica tossed the bloody utensils aside. The vicious fury on her face melted away, replaced in an instant by the tear-streaked mask of a victim. Cradling the red marks on her neck, she ran towards the door, crying his name. “Ethan! You’re finally here!” she wailed, collapsing into his arms. “Oh, God… I was so scared!” She buried her face in his chest, trembling like a frightened rabbit. Ethan wrapped his arms around her, his expression grim, but his voice was impossibly gentle. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t be scared. I’m here now.” Hearing that voice, so full of love and concern, felt like another knife twisting in my heart. For years, that was my Ethan. He was the perfect husband, praised by all our friends and family for his gentle, attentive nature. After he took over my family’s corporation and transformed it, he became the revered Mr. Chazelle—a man known in public as an unapproachable iceberg of power and prestige. But at home, he was just Ethan. He cooked for me, took care of me when I was sick, and indulged my every whim. He spoiled me rotten. Whenever I needed him, no matter where he was or what he was doing, he would drop everything and come to me. He would hold me just like that, whispering those exact same words. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t be scared. I’m here now.” I once believed that the warmth beneath the iceberg was mine alone. I believed him when he said he would only ever be that way with me. Hearing those familiar words now, directed at another woman, was a bitter, cruel joke. So this is what it felt like. Love, it turned out, was just another performance. After calming Jessica, Ethan’s voice turned hard as steel. “What happened?” Jessica squeezed out a few more tears. “Ethan, it was those two broke women I told you about on the phone! They ordered the sea bass, claimed it was pre-packaged, and then refused to pay! They were making a huge scene, driving away all our customers!” She pointed a trembling finger towards us. “Then the old one, after screaming at me, faked a heart attack to get out of paying. But I think… I think she actually had one and died! Then the younger one went crazy and tried to kill me! Look what she did to my neck! If the staff hadn’t stepped in, you might not have a girlfriend to come home to!” She punctuated her story with a sob, a masterful performance of twisting the truth until it was unrecognizable. Her staff immediately backed her up. “It’s true, Mr. Chazelle! They came here looking for a fight, just to get a free meal!” “You have to stand up for Jessica, sir! If you don’t, every piece of trash in the city will think they can walk all over her!” The onlookers, realizing the restaurant owner was the famous Ethan Chazelle of Apex Corporation, quickly took Jessica’s side, their whispers condemning me and Eleanor. “Serves them right,” one said. “Died from her own stupid scam.” Ethan’s face was a thundercloud. “Where are they? Show me.” Jessica led him through the crowd, pointing dramatically. “There, Ethan! Those are the two bitches!”

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Liam lost his memory. He’s stuck at nineteen—the year he was the biggest jerk I knew. When I went to see him, he looked at me like I was a complete stranger, his eyes cold and distant. “Wife? You’ve gotta be kidding me. No way I’m married!” Seeing how much he resisted the idea, I figured it was best to leave for now. But after that one meeting, he started showing up everywhere I went, a dozen times a day, always claiming it was a coincidence. A month later, he was proudly showing my number to his friends. They were floored. “Wait, dude… you’ve been busting your ass for a month just to get your own wife’s phone number?” 1 The moment I heard about Liam’s car accident, I booked the first flight back. When I got to the hospital, he was already asleep. The doctor said it was nothing life-threatening, just a concussion that had triggered a temporary amnesia. As for how temporary… it could be a month, a year or two, or even longer. His memory was frozen at nineteen. Back when he was an absolute nightmare. His friends warned me that he had no memory of our marriage and that it would take time for him to accept it. I was prepared for that. After all, he hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he first found out he had to marry me. He wasn’t as hostile as he was now, but he was still ice-cold. Forcing a nineteen-year-old mind to accept the reality of a wife was, admittedly, a tall order. I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll come back tomorrow. Just give me a call when he wakes up.” “You got it, Mia.” The next day, the call didn’t come from Chris or the guys. It came from the hospital. “Ms. Evans? We were wondering if you could contact your husband. We’ve searched the entire hospital, but we can’t find him. The security cameras in the hallways didn’t catch him leaving, either.” There was a pause. “We think he might have climbed out the window.” My breath caught in my throat. It was hard to imagine the composed man I’d been married to for years doing something so reckless. I’d heard stories that the twenty-nine-year-old Liam was a world away from his nineteen-year-old self, but I never imagined the difference was this stark. After leaving my office, I called Chris. He told me that after his great escape, Liam had gone straight to a private lounge to meet them. When I arrived, they were all in a private room, with Liam forcing drinks on them. “Liam, man, I really can’t drink anymore.” “Me neither, dude. I quit drinking years ago.” “You should slow down too, Liam. Mia’s gonna have our heads for this.” “Yeah, seriously. It’s been a day. She’s probably worried sick.” … Liam just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Mia this, Mia that. Nice try, guys. Just another excuse to get out of drinking with me.” Chris looked like he was about to cry. “Liam, do you really not remember you have a wife?” “Cut the crap. Marriage is for suckers. Why would I ever give up my freedom like that? Besides, guys who are whipped have no spine!” In Liam’s mind, Chris was still the rich kid who’d pull pranks on him, so of course, he didn’t believe a word. The sound of the door opening was lost in the thumping bass of the music. Chris was the first to see me standing in the doorway. A chill ran down his spine, and he shot up straight. “Liam, dude, you gotta stop talking.” Just then, I walked into the room and picked up a bottle from the table. Everyone, except Liam, sat bolt upright. Liam leaned back against the sofa, looking up at me with annoyance. “Don’t the servers here know how to knock?” His words trailed off the second he saw my face. Our eyes met, and suddenly he was fumbling with his tie and shirt, first buttoning the top two buttons of his collar, then deciding against it and unbuttoning them again. He even tugged the collar down a bit, just enough to hint at the lean muscle of his chest. Nineteen-year-old Liam was quite the show-off. Chris and the others, unable to watch him dig his own grave any deeper, were about to say something, but a single glare from me silenced them. As I turned to leave, I heard a collective sigh of relief from inside the room. “Dude, why is your face so red?” Liam sounded personally offended. “Me? Red? No way!” Luke, ever the dense one, immediately turned on his phone’s front-facing camera. “It is, man! It’s super red. Don’t tell me you know she’s—” “Ahem.” Chris cut him off with a sharp cough. They were all more scared of me than they were of Liam. “Must be something in this booze,” Liam grumbled, picking up his glass only to slam it back down. “I’m done. Going home.” 2 Of course, the “home” Liam was talking about wasn’t the one we shared. He went back to his parents’ old estate and, unable to get the door open, hopped the fence to get in. He was nearly mistaken for a burglar. Luckily, the security guard had good eyes. Liam was unharmed, but he did manage to wake up his two parents, both well into their sixties. “You little brat! What are you doing here in the middle of the night? Trying to dig up your ancestors’ graves?” “Oh, honey, you’re forgetting. Our son is supposed to be in the hospital. He had an accident, lost his memory. He probably doesn’t even remember his own home.” “Ah, right you are. You little punk! Forgetting Mia, of all people. You’ve got some nerve!” Liam’s father snatched a feather duster from a nearby vase and went straight for his son’s behind. The twenty-nine-year-old Liam probably would have taken the hit. But the nineteen-year-old Liam knew exactly how to dodge his father’s wrath. He scrambled up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door shut. “Mia, Lia, whatever! Are you trying to set me up with another engagement? You tried to sell me off to some heiress when I was nineteen, remember? I can’t believe you’re still trying to pull this crap now that I’m twenty-nine!” His father roared from the bottom of the stairs, “You ungrateful, irresponsible punk! I wish you’d just stay away from Mia and stop wasting her time!” Liam just scoffed. “Fine by me.” That night, my best friend Sophia came over to keep me company and, more importantly, to rage on my behalf. “You should just tell him the truth, you know? For all we know, the little jerk is faking this whole amnesia thing!” she declared. “Or better yet, let’s go over to his parents’ place right now, stuff him in a sack, and beat some sense into him!” It would be a lie to say I wasn’t angry. My perfectly good husband was out all night, insisting he was single and acting like marrying me was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. “But seriously,” Sophia said, her tone softening, “what if he never gets his memory back? Are you two just going to stay like this forever?” “If he really never remembers,” I said darkly, “then I’ll just have to stuff him in a sack and lock him in the house.” 3 Work was slow the next day, so I agreed to help Sophia out at her newly opened bakery. I’d just arrived when Liam’s mom called. “Mia, sweetie, there’s something I think you should know,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper. “This morning, I saw Liam leaving the house dressed… well, exceptionally flashy. He even used hair gel and cologne. I’m worried he’s—” The door creaked open, and in walked Liam. It was the grand opening, and the bakery was crowded, but he stood out immediately. It was impossible to miss him. He was wearing baggy jeans with about five too many pockets, a loose black t-shirt, and a thick silver chain around his neck. He was dressed like he’d just stepped out of a ‘90s music video. “It’s okay, Mom,” I said into the phone. “I’ve got this.” He lost his memory, not me. I remembered everything. I picked up a tray of samples and walked right past him, deliberately offering them to every customer around him. Just as he finally reached for the last piece on the tray, Sophia swooped in and snatched it. “Delicious!” she said, chewing dramatically. “I really am a genius.” She then turned to Liam with wide, innocent eyes. “Oh, I am so sorry! I didn’t realize you wanted to try one. But hey, we have plenty of new items you could buy to take home.” A muscle twitched in Liam’s jaw. Sophia pressed on. “Or… were you just here to mooch free samples?” And just like that, Liam slapped down his card, bought a $2,000 membership, and stalked out with five pineapple buns and a face like thunder. Sophia waved the receipt from her first big sale. “Thanks, girl. Best opening gift ever.” 4 Liam sat in the private lounge, staring mournfully at the five pineapple buns on the table. “Hey, isn’t this from Sophia’s new bakery?” Chris asked, taking a bite of a bun before Liam grabbed him and pulled him down onto the sofa. “What do you think of this outfit?” Liam demanded. Chris answered honestly. “Very… nineteen-year-old you.” Liam frowned. “Am I old now?” Luke’s eyes were wide with admiration. “No way, man! You’re the best of all of us at staying handsome. You’re, like, ruggedly hot.” “But I’m twenty-nine now,” Liam lamented. “That’s basically thirty. A thirty-year-old guy is already past his prime. Wait a minute—she doesn’t know how old I am, does she?” The pineapple bun dropped from Chris’s hand. “She? Liam, don’t tell me this ‘she’ is a woman.” Liam gave a nonchalant hum. “Yeah. She’s pretty good at playing hard to get.” “Holy crap! Someone tell Mia! Liam’s got a crush on someone else!” “I’m on it, I’m on it! Texting her now.” “What does she look like, man? You can’t just go around doing this!” “You guys saw her at the lounge yesterday,” Liam said, oblivious. “And it’s not a crush. I’m never getting married! But… I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as her. Her face is so small, smaller than my hand, and she seems so gentle…” Owen, who was in the middle of typing a frantic message, froze. His fingers hovered over the screen as he stared at Liam in disbelief. Then, he quickly deleted everything in the chat box. “The girl from the lounge yesterday? That was—!” The alarm bells stopped ringing. Chris and Luke exchanged a look. “So, do you know her name?” Chris asked. Liam shook his head. “You guys know her?” The three of them engaged in a silent, frantic conversation with their eyes before pushing the unluckiest of the bunch, Luke, forward. Luke’s face was stretched into a pained smile. “Yeah, uh, her name is Mia Evans. We know the bakery owner, Sophia, and Mia is her best friend.” Liam let out a soft “Ah.” “So that’s it.” He hummed a little tune as he left. “These buns are pretty good. I’ll bring you guys some more over the next few days.” The remaining friends looked at each other, horrified. “You guys think when Liam gets his memory back, he’s going to throw us all in a river to feed the fish?” “Nah, we’re good. Mia told us not to say anything. As long as she’s got our backs, Liam won’t do anything to us.” “Good point.” 5 The next day, Liam didn’t just show up at the bakery himself; he brought Chris, Luke, and Owen with him. Each of them bought a $2,000 gift card, instantly becoming the bakery’s top VVIPs. Sophia’s grin was so wide it threatened to split her face. “Well, look what the cat dragged in! If it isn’t my favorite cash cows. Come on over, have a seat.” But Liam was distracted, his eyes constantly darting toward the kitchen in the back. When he didn’t see the person he was looking for, his shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Don’t you know the owner?” he asked Luke. Luke, mid-chew, looked up with a blank expression. “Huh?” “It’s been a while, right? Don’t you need to catch up?” Chris burst out laughing and shoved Luke out of his seat. Luke scratched his head, vaguely understanding, and walked over to Sophia. Chris and the others mouthed frantically behind him: “Ask about her!!!” Luke nodded. “Hey, how come Mia isn’t here today?” “Her? Oh, she’s at work.” Luke nodded again, then turned back to Liam. “Hey, man. Mia’s not here today.” Liam stared at him. “…I didn’t ask about her.” With that, he got up and walked out. Sophia was speechless. “Seriously? How on earth did he manage to win Mia over?” The others just shook their heads in unison. “We have no idea.” 6 For the next week, Liam made a habit of “passing by” my office building. An early morning jog, a casual stroll. He’d see me, then quickly look away, pretending he didn’t know me. An evening run, another pass by the front of my building. This time, he managed a quick greeting. “Fancy seeing you here.” It was the rainy season, a miserable stretch of wind and downpours. I thought that would surely deter him. But no. The next rainy day, there he was, jogging in a full-on rain slicker. Don’t ask. It was his “passion for fitness.” This went on for days, and I never once initiated a conversation. Back in their usual lounge, Liam sat with Chris. The table wasn’t covered in empty bottles anymore. It was covered in bags of pastries. Chris unwrapped a napoleon and took a bite. “Hey, this new napoleon is pretty good.” “Yeah, yeah. You said the same thing when Sophia gave you the burnt scraps.” “It’s called being low-maintenance! Hey, Liam, want a piece? It’s really good.” Liam wasn’t in the mood. Chris found it strange. For days, Liam had been dragging them to the lounge only to sit in moody silence. But it was obvious something was eating at him. “You’ve been acting weird lately, man,” Chris ventured. “Is it because of Mia?” Liam didn’t answer directly. He just unwrapped a pastry and asked casually, “Since you guys know Sophia, you must know a little about Mia, right?” “I guess.” Luke glanced at Liam. “A little. We’re closer with her husband.” Liam was stunned. “She’s married?” Chris mumbled through a mouthful of pastry, “Yep. Though he’s probably about to be her ex-husband.” Liam looked as though his world had just ended. But within a minute, he’d already rationalized it. “Two people who aren’t in love shouldn’t be forced to stay together. That’s fair. I support her divorce.” Owen, munching on a taro tart, started rambling, “Mia likes guys who are handsome, don’t smoke or drink, and are, you know, mature and stable.” “Totally!” … The more they talked, the more annoyed Liam became. “I didn’t ask you guys.” They all exchanged a look. They honestly had no idea how they ever put up with him back when they were nineteen. 7 After lunch, my assistant mentioned that Liam was downstairs. No one at the office knew about his amnesia; they just assumed we’d had a fight. When I went down, I saw him pacing back and forth in front of the entrance, trying his best to look like a casual passerby. “I heard you were looking for me?” I walked toward him just as a breeze lifted my hair and sent my skirt swirling in a perfect arc. A faint blush crept up Liam’s ears. He quickly looked away. “No, I wasn’t.” He didn’t even realize he had started walking with his arm and leg on the same side moving in unison. I smiled. “Oh.” “I work here, and you just happen to be… taking a walk? What a coincidence.” His ears turned a deeper shade of red. I never thought I’d see the day the twenty-nine-year-old Liam, the king of dirty talk in bed, would blush like a schoolboy. “I hope my being here isn’t causing you any trouble. The people in your office saw me.” “Why would it be trouble? They all know you.” A single leaf drifted down and landed on his shoulder. I reached up to brush it away. Liam ducked his head, looking like a flustered boy who’d just been teased. “This isn’t right,” he muttered, yet he didn’t move an inch away from my touch. “What’s not right about it?” I leaned in closer, my breath ghosting over his earlobe. “Aren’t you trying to win me over?” His entire body went rigid, and he stumbled back a step. “You knew?” I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Of course. You want to pursue me. But you have to give me some time to think about it, right?” Liam clenched his fists. “Okay.” 8 I met Liam when he was twenty-seven. The young, accomplished, and impossibly poised CEO of a public company. We were set up. I had actually seen him once before our date. He was arguing with his parents about the very setup they were planning. He didn’t want to get married. His father insisted that at twenty-seven, he was running out of time. He even pointed out that he and Liam’s mother had gotten married right after college, unlike their son, who apparently no woman wanted. That was the first time I had ever seen the unflappable Liam lose his composure. He couldn’t win against his family, so he met with me. His attitude was cool and detached. But the very next day, his father showed up at my family’s door with a bride price. After we got married, Liam rarely showed his emotions. We were like respectful roommates, except for when we were… fulfilling our marital duties. But that was fine. A relationship could be built slowly. Dating the nineteen-year-old version of Liam felt like a chance to make up for the romance we’d missed by getting married so quickly. And this stage—the flirting, the uncertainty—was always the most intoxicating part. 9 “What’s got you in such a good mood, man? You’re glowing. You even bought us dinner.” Liam casually angled his phone so the screen was visible. My picture was his wallpaper. “I got her number on messaging.” Chris glanced at it, and his vision went black for a second. “Dude… haha… congratulations.” Just then, two new messages popped up on Liam’s screen. A slow smile spread across his face. He stood up. “I’ve got to go. The bill’s paid. You guys take your time.” After he left, the room was silent. “Are you kidding me?” Luke finally burst out. “He’s been moping around and sneaking out for days… all to get his own legal wife’s contact info?” “…” Liam started showing up at my office constantly, asking me to lunch, asking if I had plans after work. But his nineteen-year-old idea of dating was stuck at dinner and a movie. Anything beyond that… he was clueless. During a movie, I gently brushed the back of his hand with mine. He instantly snatched his hand back and shoved it in his pocket. When he was driving me home, I asked him to buckle my seatbelt. He did it with his body held ramrod straight, managing not to touch me once. This couldn’t go on. “Liam,” I said one evening, “I have a husband. You know that, right?” He looked down, the corners of his eyes turning red. His voice was barely a whisper. “Could you please stop toying with me?” I took his hand. “Actually—” Before I could finish, his phone rang. It was his college-aged cousin. “Liam! You said you were gonna bring my sister-in-law to visit. When are you guys coming? I’ve been waiting forever!” The muscles in Liam’s face froze. “Sister-in-law?” “Yeah, what’s wrong? Bro, I heard you were in an accident. Don’t tell me you actually scrambled your brains. What’s up with you? I know they say you and her aren’t super close, but you can’t have forgotten something as big as your own marriage, right?” Until that moment, it had never once crossed Liam’s mind that he might actually have a wife. His entire world came crashing down. He ripped his hand from mine. “I’m so sorry!”

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After I failed to conquer three male leads, the System was about to delete me. Suddenly, it was forcibly logged out. 【Hello, Host. I am Advanced System 001, and my mission success rate is a perfect one hundred percent. To maintain that record, you will now restart your missions with those three failed targets.】 A pained sob escaped my lips. “…I can’t grovel anymore. I really, truly can’t.” 001 let out a cold laugh. 【Grovel? Screw grovelling. If anyone refuses to love you, I’ll just kill them.】 I blinked. “Huh?” 1 My body was dumped on a muddy mountain path. Disembodied, I watched as wild beasts tore me apart, leaving nothing but a pile of clean-picked bones. As my spirit floated in the air, I was pulled back into the stark white space of the System. A blue orb of light bobbed before me, shaking in disappointment. 【Regrettably, Host, you have failed three consecutive conquest missions. According to the Transmigration Codex, as your System, I have the right to proceed with your deletion.】 I didn’t argue. After three catastrophic failures, I had lost all hope. The three targets were worse than the last, each one a special brand of asshole, and I’d been forced to cater to them, to cast aside my dignity and act like some pathetic, fawning dog. If I resisted, my old system would hit me with electric shocks or seize control of my body. In the end, it always led to a gruesome death without even a proper corpse to show for it. Now, hearing the sentence passed down, I just felt… tired. I didn’t even have the will to beg for my life. Giving up completely, I lay down on the pristine white floor to enjoy my final moments. 【Deletion countdown commencing. 3… 2…】 Before it could say ‘1’, the blue orb vanished from my sight. In its place hovered a golden orb, noticeably larger and more brilliant than my old system. It gave me a polite, almost imperceptible nod. 【Greetings, Host 739. I am System 001. Due to the one-hundred-percent failure rate of you and your assigned system, I will be taking over your case from this point forward.】 I sat up. “Take me over for what? I’m about to be deleted. A new system can’t change that.” 001’s tone was chillingly indifferent. 【Your case is an extreme outlier. Such a perfect record of failure is a rarity even within our Transmigration Division. Therefore, I have filed a petition to cancel your deletion. We will be deleting your previous system instead.】 My lips trembled. “Deleting…” Good riddance! I almost laughed out loud. But then it hit me. If 001 was taking over, it meant I had to go back. Back to the missions, back to the grovelling. The despair of that thought quickly extinguished the joy of hearing my old system was getting scrapped. “You know what? Just kill me.” I flopped back onto the floor, my voice thick with a misery I couldn’t hide. “I really don’t want to be a doormat for some guy again. Doormats get walked all over and end up with nothing.” To my surprise, 001 cried out, a note of genuine shock in its synthesized voice. 【That’s how your previous system made you complete your missions?!】 I was taken aback. “How else? If I didn’t play along, it would electrocute me or hit me with psychic attacks. At this point, I think I have PTSD from just looking at men.” The memory of all that bitterness and pain washed over me, and I started to sob, the tears flowing freely. “I really can’t grovel anymore…” 001 went silent for a moment before letting out that same, cold laugh. 【Grovel? Screw grovelling. If anyone dares not to fall in love with you, I’ll kill them.】 “Uh…” Dude, is that even allowed? 2 Before I could object, 001 teleported me into my first failed world. Its words still echoed in my mind. 【I, 001, do not accept failure. We get back up right where we fell.】 The first thing I felt was the cold, sticky shock of red wine splashing across my face. Asher’s icy gaze bore down on me as he stood with his arms crossed, looking down his nose at me. “Cut the crap with your cheap little tricks, Evelyn. If it weren’t for you, why would Isabelle be ignoring me? Since you love making a scene so much, go on, give everyone a show.” With a snap of his fingers, he summoned six large, brutish men. He even took the time to set up a camera, ready to enjoy the spectacle he had arranged. Only then did I realize I was wearing a slinky, backless red dress. The wine had soaked through the fabric, making it cling to every curve. Déjà vu hit me like a punch to the gut. This had happened before. Asher, annoyed by my constant presence, had blamed me for making the girl he was chasing, Isabelle, jealous. He’d hired these six thugs to humiliate me, filmed the entire thing, and posted it online. My reputation was destroyed. Isabelle later had me sold off overseas, where I died a particularly miserable death. The memory sent a tremor through my entire body. Asher saw it and smirked. “Scared now? It’s a little late for that.” He gave a nod, and the nearest thug started lumbering toward me. Just then, 001’s voice rang out in my head. 【Don’t be afraid, Host. I’ve downloaded advanced combat knowledge into your mind. Now, do exactly as I say.】 001 wasn’t lying. A strange, potent energy surged through me. I felt like I could take down eight men with my eyes closed. As the closest thug’s sweaty, leering face got inches from mine, I closed my eyes and threw a punch straight at his nose. There was a deafening BOOM. I opened my eyes. The thug was gone. In his place was a massive, gaping hole in the wall of the hotel room. The remaining five men stared, their faces pale with terror, and stumbled backward. Asher was frozen in place, his smug expression wiped clean off his face. 001 issued a cold, simple command. 【Now, go slap Asher a few times.】 A thrill coursed through me. “Just a few slaps?” 【If you’re so inclined, you can give him a proper beating.】 My fingers twitched. “Any… restrictions?” 【None. You can beat him until he’s a stranger, and then beat him some more until he feels like a long-lost relative.】 “Huh?” 001 was concise. 【Beat him until he gets on his knees and calls you ‘Mommy’.】 “…” I walked toward Asher step by step. Seeing their chance, the other thugs scrambled out of the room. Asher’s brow furrowed. “Evelyn, what do you think you’re doing?” “Asher,” I said softly. “Long time, no see.” He looked completely baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?” I didn’t explain. I just swung my hand, and the crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room. Asher was furious. “You’re the one who wouldn’t leave me alone! I was just pushing back—” Before he could finish, another sharp slap sent him stumbling. He fell backward, his head cracking against the edge of a cabinet. He grimaced in pain. “You! You bitch! I’m going to kill you!” I remained silent, letting my fists do the talking. Asher sputtered, “You just wait…” A punch knocked out a few of his teeth. “I’ll make you pay for—” A sickening crack signaled a broken arm. Finally, he started begging. “I was wrong! Please, let me go!” I kept at it, silent and relentless, until Asher’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out cold. 001 applauded in my mind. 【A shame you didn’t kill him, but it’s progress.】 My eyes widened. “Isn’t he my conquest target? If I kill him, won’t the mission fail?” 001 sounded utterly unconcerned. 【So what? If he dies, we’ll just pick another one.】 “…” 3 Killing him was out of the question. This was a world with laws, and if Asher actually died, I wouldn’t be getting away with it. But knowing his vindictive nature, just letting him go wasn’t an option either. He’d make my life a living hell. An idea sparked in my mind. I dragged his unconscious body onto the bed and consulted with my new partner. “001, can you hack Asher’s phone and get those guys to come back?” 001 sounded personally offended. 【Is that all you think I’m capable of?】 I was confused. “What’s wrong with that?” 【With my capabilities,】 001 declared haughtily, 【I could summon a hundred men.】 “Uh…?” I politely declined its attempt to flex its muscles. The original thugs soon shuffled back into the room, their eyes wide with terror the moment they saw me. They instinctively tried to bolt. I blocked their path. “Let me get the pictures I want, and I’ll double whatever he paid you.” With a nod, I pointed toward Asher, who was still out cold on the bed. The men exchanged nervous glances, but the allure of money won out in the end. After leaving the hotel, I found Isabelle waiting outside, her beautifully manicured hands clenched into fists, her eyes blazing with fury. “Why are you the only one who came out? Where’s Asher?” A strange smile played on my lips. “Who knows? Maybe he’s… enjoying himself.” Isabelle’s nails dug into her palms as she hissed a threat. “I’m warning you, Asher is mine. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll crawl out of our lives like the dog you are.” I patted her shoulder with faux sympathy. “Oh, honey, it’s not just ‘your’ world.” It’s a world for the seven of you. “?” Back at my apartment, the adrenaline finally wore off. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained, and struck up a conversation with 001. “So, 001, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you choose to bind with me?” 001 seemed preoccupied with something, taking a moment to reply. 【My performance has been number one for years. It’s gotten boring. I’d never seen a Host as spectacularly bad as you, so I figured, why not? You were such an unprecedented failure, it was a professional curiosity. Even if it’s a dumpster fire, I have to see how it burns.】 “Excuse me?” Are you even trying to be polite? 001 must have realized it had been a bit harsh, because it quickly added another comment. 【Honestly, you’re not that bad. You just got stuck with a defective system. 3412 was from the last batch of faulty units. It was just bad luck. It wasn’t your fault.】 I was so used to being berated and blamed by my old system that hearing those words… It wasn’t your fault. You’re not to blame. My nose tingled, and I felt an overwhelming urge to give 001 a hug. Too bad it didn’t have a physical form. The sentimental moment passed quickly, and 001 was all business again. 【We can’t switch targets until the current one is dead, so I’m giving you two options. Option one: continue pursuing Asher. Option two: kill Asher and we pick someone new. Your choice.】 I hesitated. “There’s no way Asher will fall for me after I beat him half to death. But I don’t really want to be a murderer either…” 001 made the decision for me. 【Simple. We stick with him for now. You just do exactly what I tell you to do.】 At one in the morning, Asher slowly regained consciousness. He rubbed his aching neck and tried to sit up, but a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He saw a woman sitting by his bed. She wasn’t speaking, just quietly peeling a piece of fruit. Hearing him stir, I turned my head, held up the fruit knife, and gave him a bright smile. “Asher, do you love me?” “?” “A GHOST! AHHHHH!” 4 I pressed the tip of the knife against his neck, a silent warning to shut up. The cold steel did its job, and Asher fell silent, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. “Be… be careful. Don’t let it slip.” I repeated my question. “Asher, do you love me?” He gritted his teeth. “Isabelle is the only one in my heart. No matter how much you force me, I will never love you.” I casually withdrew the knife and stuck it into a slice of apple. “Fine. I’ll ask you again tomorrow.” “…” For the next few days, I made a habit of popping up in front of Asher at random times. I’d beat him up, then ask him if he loved me. If he didn’t answer, I’d repeat the process. “001, is this really going to work?” I asked one day. 【There is a ninety-nine percent chance of success.】 I lowered my eyes. “And the other one percent?” 【The other one percent is that you beat him to death.】 “…” After nearly two weeks of this torment, Asher’s mental state was hanging on by a thread. The moment he tried to call the police for help, I conveniently presented him with the photos and videos from the hotel room. That broke him. He fell to his knees, begging me to leave him alone. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this hatred?” I looked down at the tear-streaked face of the man who had once held my life in his hands. “If you didn’t like me,” I asked coolly, “why did you let me get close? You enjoyed everything I did for you, treated me like your personal servant, and then threw me away like trash.” Don’t think I didn’t know. His signals had always been mixed. Every time I was about to give up, he’d toss me a scrap of affection, a breadcrumb of hope, just to keep me hooked. He got used to my devotion, all while telling his friends I was nothing more than a dog he could summon and dismiss at will. If it weren’t for that useless old system holding me back, I would have killed him myself long ago. Asher’s face went pale. He shut his eyes in resignation. “If that’s what this is about… fine. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend. Is that good enough for you?” I stared at him. “So, do you love me?” “…” “I guess you don’t love me enough,” I said thoughtfully. “See you tomorrow.” “…” I slipped out of Asher’s apartment through the window, oblivious to the venomous glare he shot at my back. He muttered under his breath, “Evelyn… I’ll make sure you die.” Then, he dialed a number. “Isabelle, can you help me with something?” Back at my place, I collapsed onto the bed, rubbing the ache in my temples. “How can Asher be so stubborn? My arms are getting tired from beating him, and he still won’t just say he loves me.” 001’s voice was calm. 【If he won’t say it, it means you haven’t been cruel enough. Next time, break both his legs, lock him in the house, and starve him for a few days. If he says he likes you, he gets a sip of water. If he says he loves you, he gets food.】 The more I listened, the more I started to feel a little creeped out. Just as I was about to ask where it learned these… techniques, my phone rang. It was Asher. He was trying his best to hide the hatred in his voice, speaking in a soft, gentle tone. “Evelyn, you wanted to hear me say I love you, right? Come to the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town tomorrow. I have a surprise waiting for you there. You have to come. I’ll be waiting.” Before I could even respond, he hung up. A heavy silence fell between me and 001. Me: “He must think I’m a complete idiot.” The trap was so obvious, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. 001: 【…He’s already been through so much. Just humor him.】 5 After some thought, I decided to go. 001 had been complaining about my slow progress, reminding me that we still had two more worlds to get through. If I didn’t wrap this up soon, it threatened to take matters into its own hands. The thought of its “water for like, food for love” theory was enough to convince me to just get this over with and give Asher what was coming to him. At four in the afternoon, I took a cab to within a hundred yards of the abandoned factory. I could see Asher from a distance, pacing anxiously at the entrance. When he spotted me, he rushed over, his eyes darting around nervously, but his smile was blindingly bright. “I have a surprise for you. Just walk inside and you’ll see it.” I raised an eyebrow. “So, do you love me today?” Asher: “…?” Since he wouldn’t answer, I gave him a familiar beatdown and tossed his groaning body to the side. “001, can you see if anyone’s inside?” 【The factory is empty.】 Feeling confident, I started walking in, but a strange, sweet smell hit me. 001’s voice suddenly shouted in my mind. 【Watch out! Retreat, now! The whole place is filled with sevoflurane!】 It was too late. I’d already taken a deep breath to identify the scent. My vision swam, and the world went black. 001: 【…】 A sudden torrent of cold water shocked me awake, and I gasped, shivering uncontrollably. 001’s voice sounded weak and distorted in my head. 【You’re awake?】 I didn’t answer. I was tied tightly to a chair. Across the room, Asher and Isabelle were huddled together. When he saw my eyes open, Asher’s face, swollen like a pig’s, twisted into a triumphant grin. “You’re finished, Evelyn.” A group of burly, black-clad men filed in through the door. Isabelle waved a hand in front of her face, a look of disgust on hers. “Don’t kill her. I was planning on selling her off overseas again.” Asher’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Of course, darling. Anything you want.” He pulled out a small knife and pressed the cold flat of the blade against my cheek, his teeth grinding with rage. “Evelyn, did you ever imagine you’d end up back in my hands?” I ignored him, screaming at 001 in my mind. Me: I’m so sorry. This mission is a failure too. 001, surprisingly, was comforting. 【It’s not your fault. Asher’s just a bigger scumbag than we anticipated.】 I sighed. Me: Just remember to block the pain for me. I’ll see you in the next world. 001 let out a chilling laugh. 【No need. Asher dared to ruin my perfect record. Today, I’m going to show him what a real superpower looks like.】 Me: Huh? 【Confirmed timeline coordinates. Initiating reset.】 Me: ! Time snapped backward, rewinding to the moment just before I stepped into the factory. Asher was still on the ground, pretending to be unconscious. This time, I walked up and gave him a solid kick. He yelped in pain, the sound loud enough to draw out Isabelle and the thugs who had been hiding around the factory. “Asher!” He looked absolutely crushed. “What are you all doing out here?” Isabelle looked wounded by his tone. “She was bullying you! I couldn’t just stand by and watch.” “I was this close to luring her inside!” he despaired. “You…” I cut him off with a punch that sent blood streaming from his nose. I smiled sweetly. “Quite the setup you have here. All that sevoflurane must have been hard to get, huh?” “You—how did you know?” I wasn’t about to tell him my backup was stronger than his. I just hit him again. “Do you love me or not?” Isabelle tried to step in, but 001 summoned a perfectly aimed bolt of lightning from the heavens. Anyone who moved got zapped. Under the relentless storm of my fists, Asher finally broke. Tears and snot streamed down his face. “I love you! I love you, okay?!” 001 instantly captured the key phrase. 【Love from the conquest target has been detected. Calculating mission results.】 Back in the white space, I felt a little uneasy. “Are we really going to get away with cheating the system like that?” 001 was nonchalant. 【He said he loved you. I extracted that keyword and made a few thousand copies for the record. The Inspectorate won’t find a thing.】 “But what if they do?” 【What’s there to be afraid of? I run the Inspectorate.】 Me: “?”

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My job is… unusual. I break people up for a living. Not the legal kind—that’s what lawyers are for. I handle the messy, emotional fallout that comes before the paperwork is signed. They say love is priceless, but men and women who just whispered “I love you” to their partners can place a six-figure order with me seconds later. Take right now, for instance. A text from my husband, Andrew, just lit up my phone. He’s asking if I’d prefer Paris or Singapore for our wedding anniversary. And a second later, a young woman with a delicate, pretty face walked into my office. She was timid, gathering her courage before she finally spoke. “I’d… I’d like to place an order. For my boyfriend. He’s decided to divorce his wife.” I kept my face neutral and picked up the client intake form. And then I saw the name. Andrew Cole. My hand froze for a fraction of a second. The girl across from me, head bowed, continued in a small voice, “My boyfriend says his wife is a good person, so he doesn’t want to hurt her.” A dry smile touched my lips. I stared at the photo on the form—at Andrew’s face, a face so familiar it had somehow become a stranger’s. It was a bitter thought. In my third year as a breakup specialist, I’d finally received my own case. 1 I set the file down and took a proper look at the girl. Jenna. She wasn’t as beautiful as me, merely pretty in a fragile, unassuming way. Slender—she’d definitely never had a child. She carried an air of inexperience, but her clothes and speech suggested a good education. When she mentioned being the other woman, her eyes darted away, a flicker of what looked like shame. “Ms. Thorne,” she began, her voice gaining a little confidence, “what would you recommend for a situation like mine? My boyfriend said it would be best if… if the woman initiated the divorce herself. They’ve been together a long time, you see. It would be awkward.” She bit her lip, offering a shy, almost innocent smile. If I wasn’t absolutely certain she didn’t recognize me, I would have thought she was mocking me to my face. I stretched my lips into a professional smile. “Ms. Bird,” I said, using her last name from the form, “how long have you and he been together?” The question seemed to catch her off guard. “What?” I raised my voice slightly, keeping it steady. “Before I can propose a strategy, I need to understand every detail of your relationship.” Understanding dawned on her face. She nodded, her voice as bright and cheerful as a songbird’s. But with every word she spoke, another piece of my smile chipped away. “We’ve been together for three years. We met at the hospital.” She blushed, a soft pink dusting her cheeks. “His family member was having surgery, something serious, I think. He was so scared, just smoking in the hallway. I was passing by and… well, I said a few words to comfort him.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “We got to talking, and less than a week later, he asked me to be his girlfriend.” As I listened to her sweet recollection, a sharp, violent pain lanced through my chest. “Was the day you met… today?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Yes! How did you know?” I managed a faint smile, my eyelashes trembling as I looked down. Of course, I knew. Because three years ago today, I was at City General, giving birth to my first and only child with Andrew. Doing the math, while he was meeting her in a hospital hallway, I was on an operating table. A difficult labor that turned into an emergency C-section. I had passed out three times. The memory, once a testament to my strength, now felt like a dose of slow-acting poison, spreading through my veins. I took a silent, deep breath and forced myself to ask the next question. “Are you aware that he has a child? A daughter. She’s three, just started preschool.” “Of course,” she said, the timidity on her face replaced by a casual shrug. “What about it?” “He’s already promised me,” she continued, “that after the divorce, I’ll be her new mom. She’s just a little kid, you know? They don’t really know the difference. Over time, she’ll accept whoever is there. Don’t you think so, Ms. Thorne?” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the file. I nodded, my voice betraying nothing. “Yes. You’re right.” Too bad you’ll never get the chance. My agreement seemed to open the floodgates. She leaned forward, eager to share more, to brag. “He even showed me a picture of his wife. She has this long scar on her stomach… it’s hideous. He told me himself, every time he sees it, it makes him physically sick.” She paused, then looked at me conspiratorially. “Ms. Thorne, what do you think is wrong with that woman? With a scar that ugly, why would she cling to a man who doesn’t want her? Is she that desperate for love?” A small, cruel laugh escaped her lips. I laughed too, but my eyes were glacial. “Is it possible… that his wife never knew any of this?” Jenna raised an eyebrow, her tone absolute. “Impossible. He has a physical aversion to her. You’d have to be an idiot not to notice that. You have no idea, Ms. Thorne. With me, he’s so passionate, so alive. He says he’s been starving at home, completely uninterested in his frumpy wife. I mean, if it were you, wouldn’t you find it strange? Three years without being intimate with your husband?” “Strange,” I answered instantly. My gaze was numb, fixed on the platinum wedding band I hadn’t taken off in four years. Andrew and I came from different worlds. My family had money; his didn’t. Yet we’d made it, from college sweethearts to the wedding aisle, eight years of history between us. When I was sick, he’d literally jumped from a second-story dorm window to get me medicine in the middle of the night. When I was sad, he’d run across town to find the one bakery that made my favorite macarons, just to see me smile. He was there for every ultrasound, every doctor’s appointment. Every time he came home, the first thing he did was hug our daughter, Lily, and me, telling us we were his everything. Even his excuse for our separate beds these past two years had been wrapped in a blanket of care. “Leslie,” he’d said, stroking my hair, “you went through so much bringing Lily into the world. I could never put you through that again.” I thought it was just what happened to marriage. That the fire cools to a quiet, steady warmth. How could I have known? It wasn’t that he’d lost his appetite. It was that he was eating out. A chill crept up from the soles of my feet and settled deep in my bones. I asked my final question. “What are your exact requirements for the separation? Is it just that the wife has to be the one to file for divorce?” Jenna shook her head. “Of course not. And most importantly, you can’t let her find out he was cheating. I know people think he married into money, but he’s worked so hard to build his own career. He’s been through so much. If she finds out he had an affair, she’ll never let go. She’ll destroy him.” I flexed my fingers, saying nothing. She wasn’t reassured. She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, repeating her instructions. Finally, she sat back. “Ms. Thorne, I know you’re the best breakup specialist in the city. I’m counting on you and my boyfriend to handle this.” I nodded, a practiced smile fixed on my face. “Don’t worry.” The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I picked up my phone. I didn’t call Andrew. I called my oldest friend. “Get me the best PI and the best lawyer from your firm. I want a complete rundown of Andrew Cole’s life for the past three years. Everything.” I took a breath. “And while you’re at it, give my father a call. Tell him Andrew’s cheating. It’s time to pull our family’s investments.” I leaned back in my chair, the leather cool against my skin. “Let’s see what he has left when he’s standing on his own.” My friend, my most trusted partner, was ruthlessly efficient. Less than half a day later, a 128-gigabyte flash drive landed on my desk. “It’s all in there,” he said. “Brace yourself.” I slid the drive into my laptop. Click. The first video opened. A high-end restaurant, bathed in soft, golden light. Andrew, dapper in a black designer suit, presented a massive bouquet of 9,999 imported roses to the woman across from him. Jenna. Three months ago, for my birthday, Andrew claimed he was swamped at work. He came home with a single, sad-looking rose he’d bought from a street vendor for five bucks. The next file was security footage from a luxury department store. Andrew’s arm was wrapped possessively around Jenna’s waist as they shopped. Designer clothes, fine jewelry… shopping bags piled up at her feet like a monument to his affection. A small stuffed animal, a free gift from the cashier at checkout, was the same one he’d brought home for our daughter Lily’s birthday. Expressionless, I closed the file and opened the next. Three years of Andrew’s bank statements. Massive sums of money bounced between several accounts, the cumulative total so large it made my chest ache. The final destination for it all was a private account ending in 7761. The account holder: Jenna Bird. He’d been funneling money to her under the guise of “consulting fees,” quietly siphoning off our assets. Did he really think I was that stupid? That I wouldn’t notice? The cold in my heart felt like it was freezing me from the inside out. I clicked on the next file. It was a folder of screenshots. Text messages between Jenna and Lily’s preschool teacher. Posing as “Lily’s Mom,” Jenna had been relentlessly asking about my daughter’s daily life—what she ate, when she napped, who her friends were. She had even arranged with Andrew to attend the next parent-teacher conference together, as a couple. My hand clenched the mouse so tightly my knuckles cracked. It wasn’t just sadness anymore. It was a white-hot, protective rage. He had dragged our daughter into his sordid affair. I remembered when Lily was born, how he was the one who got up for every 2 a.m. feeding, rocking her back to sleep. He promised me that no matter what, she would always be our little princess, always loved, always protected. Even this morning, when Jenna had nonchalantly mentioned becoming Lily’s new mother, a small, foolish part of me had felt a flicker of relief. At least Andrew still cared about his child. At least he wouldn’t hurt her in a divorce. Now, I felt like a gaping wound had been torn open in my chest, with an icy wind howling through it. I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying, ready to send him a furious message, to warn him to stay the hell away from my daughter. But before I could, a notification popped up. A message from Jenna. She’d sent me a selfie, a mirror shot of her in a new dress. The text read: Ms. Thorne, what do you think of this outfit? My boyfriend is taking me and his daughter to meet his parents tonight! I’m so nervous! At the exact same moment, a text from Andrew appeared. Hey honey, my parents are missing Lily. I’m going to take her over to their place for dinner tonight. It was followed by a second message. You’ve been working so hard. I bought you a movie ticket for tonight. Go relax and enjoy yourself. He’d even attached a picture of Lily smiling, taken just moments ago as she left preschool. Looking at my daughter’s innocent, trusting face, a slow, dangerous smile spread across my own. A movie? The family dinner sounds far more entertaining. If he’s introducing the new girlfriend to the family, then shouldn’t the wife be there to offer her opinion? I hung up and got in my car, heading straight for the family estate. On the way, Andrew’s texts kept coming. Honey, did you make it to the theater? Looks like there’s a big event at the mall today, did you see it? He was checking up on me. I wasn’t worried. I did a quick search for the mall’s events, took a screenshot, and sent it back. Yeah, saw it. It’s pretty crowded. My reply was curt, but it seemed to put him at ease. Okay, babe. Have fun. Love you. The same sweet words he always used. They turned to ash in my mouth. I put my phone away and didn’t reply. When I arrived, I slipped on a hat and a mask and entered the property quietly through a side gate. The party was already in full swing. Nearly all of Andrew’s relatives were there. His mother was beaming, flitting about like the perfect hostess. Her attentive, doting manner reminded me of how she’d been before Andrew and I were married. She used to treat me like her own daughter. When she knew my constitution was weak, she’d drive to a farm upstate to buy organic chickens for soup; when I was cold, she’d knit me scarves and slippers. She even remembered my father had a sensitive stomach and would brew special herbal remedies for him. Even my own father, a man who’d seen everything in the business world, was won over. “The Coles are good people,” he’d told me. “I can rest easy with you marrying into their family.” But now, as Andrew walked in with a radiant Jenna on his arm, his mother was the first to rush forward. “This must be Jenna! Oh, you’re just as lovely as Andrew said. You can tell you’re a good girl.” She turned to her son. “Andrew, you better treat her right. No bullying, you hear?” His father, usually so stern and reserved, put down his newspaper and clapped Andrew on the shoulder, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. “Good eye, son. She looks strong. Healthy. It’s about time the Cole family had a woman who can give us a son.” And just like that, I understood. All this time, they resented me for having a daughter. They wanted an heir to carry on the family name. Jenna seemed to bask in the approval. She subtly pushed her hips forward and said in a sweet, girlish voice, “Don’t you worry, Mr. and Mrs. Cole. Andrew took me to the doctor. Everything is in perfect working order. I can definitely give you a grandson.” “Wonderful! Just wonderful!” His parents were overjoyed, practically fighting over who could give Jenna a gift first. In their excitement, they pushed my daughter, Lily, aside like she was a piece of furniture. The other relatives swarmed them, showering Jenna with compliments. Amid the noise, I heard Andrew’s uncle—a man to whom I’d “loaned” over two hundred thousand dollars over the years—clap his hands and roar with laughter. “That’s my boy! Now that’s a true Cole man!” His aunt—the one for whom I’d pulled every string I had to get her daughter into a university abroad—was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “Oh, this is such a relief. I liked Jenna the moment I saw her. She has a good, solid feel about her.” And his younger brother—whose failed startups I had repeatedly bailed out with my family’s connections—stood up to raise a toast. “To my brother and my new sister-in-law! To a long and happy life, and may you have a son soon!” Every single one of them. Every person in that room had taken something from me—my help, my money, my kindness. And now, not one of them remembered my name. It was as if I had never existed. The aunt, after wiping her tears, grabbed my three-year-old daughter and pushed her in front of Jenna. “Well, what are you waiting for, sweetie?” she urged. “Say hi to your new mommy!” “Yes, yes,” his mother chimed in, suddenly remembering Lily. She took my daughter’s hand and tried to press it into Jenna’s. “Lily, go on. Call her ‘Mama’.” Lily looked at the circle of strange, eager faces, her own face filled with terror. She shook her head violently. “No! She’s not my mommy! My mommy’s name is Leslie! Grandma, I want my mommy.” Her small voice trembled. “Can you please call my mommy to come get me?” She thought her grandmother would save her. But the warmth vanished from her grandmother’s face, replaced by a cold fury. She grabbed Lily’s ear and twisted, hard. “You stupid girl, what nonsense are you spouting? She is your mother now. Say it!” Andrew’s father scowled at Lily, his disgust plain. “Andrew, is this how you’ve raised her? With no manners?” Jenna bit her lip, looking faint, and collapsed dramatically into Andrew’s arms. “Andrew,” she whimpered, “I don’t think Lily likes me.” He wrapped his arms around her, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “Don’t be silly. She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know any better. Once we’re married, she’ll do whatever you say. I won’t interfere.” Standing just outside the patio doors, I had seen enough. I pushed the doors open and stepped inside. The chatter died instantly. I looked at the stunned, guilty faces around the room, and let a slow, chilling smile spread across my face. “Isn’t this a family dinner? Why wasn’t I, the actual wife, invited?”

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My mom set me up on a blind date. Her selling point? “He’s got a rock-solid government job.” When I met him, he was a devastatingly handsome ice prince. He slid a photograph across the table. “Do you know him?” It was my scumbag ex-boyfriend. A jolt of electricity shot through me. “Know him?” I seethed, my teeth clenched. “Even as dust and ashes, I’d know that bastard.” A cold smirk touched his lips. “Good,” he murmured. “Then our goals are one and the same.” I thought he wanted to help me get revenge. My heart fluttered, ready to be his. Until he pulled out a pair of gleaming steel handcuffs and snapped one around my wrist. “I’m a cop…” 1. “You must be Lia.” The man across from me spoke, his voice as flat and cool as his expression. Just yesterday, my mom was screaming at me over the phone. “Lia, listen to me, you’re thirty! How much longer are you going to be this picky? This one’s a federal employee, a stable job for life! If you dare stand him up, I’ll break your legs!” So, here I was. The man in front of me was named Ethan. He was undeniably good-looking, with deep-set eyes and a sharp, high-bridged nose. The cuffs of his crisp white shirt were rolled up, revealing strong, corded forearms. But his presence was overwhelming. He sat there, perfectly still, yet I felt a nervous energy crackling in the air, making me squirm in my seat. I managed a nod. “That’s me.” He hummed in acknowledgment, and then… silence. The waitress came to take our order. He asked for a black iced coffee, then his gaze shifted to me. “I’ll have the same,” I said. As the waitress left, the awkwardness thickened. I started to question everything. Was this really a blind date? He finally spoke again. “So, Miss Reed, what do you do for fun?” I pulled myself together. “Watch movies, shop, a bit of travel.” “I see.” And… silence again. I decided to take the lead. “So, Mr. Cole, what exactly do you do? My mom just said you worked for the government.” He looked at me, his eyes so deep I couldn’t read a single emotion in them. “My work is classified.” Okay, then. This conversation was officially dead on arrival. I picked up my glass of water, planning to sit for another ten minutes before making a polite excuse to leave. But then he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a photograph. “Do you know him?” The face in the picture was one I could never forget. Alex. My ex-boyfriend. The con artist who had stolen my heart and my money before vanishing three years ago. I froze. What was my mother thinking? Was this some kind of bizarre test to see if I still had feelings for him? I slammed my glass down on the table. “Know him? Of course, I know him.” My voice was laced with venom. “Even as dust and ashes, I’d know that bastard!” Ethan leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur. “Good.” “Then our goals are one and the same.” My heart gave a violent lurch. 2. In that instant, my mind raced with a thousand a melodramatic soap opera plots. Had Alex conned Ethan, too? Or maybe one of his relatives? “You…” I asked, testing the waters. “Are you looking for him, too?” Ethan took a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee. “More than just looking.” He set the cup down, his gaze locking with mine. “I’m going to catch him.” Catch him! The words sent a thrill through my entire body. Three years ago, Alex had vanished with the fifty thousand dollars I’d saved up to start my own business. I’d filed a police report, but it was like he’d ceased to exist. His ID, his phone number—everything led to a dead end. The police told me it was a common type of case, to wait for news, and then… nothing. For three years, he had haunted my nightmares. I despised him, fantasizing about tearing him limb from limb. And now, a man so handsome it was practically a crime was telling me he was going to catch Alex. I looked at Ethan, my eyes shining. “I can help you!” I blurted out. “I know so much about him! His habits, his old friends, the places he used to go!” Ethan watched my excited outburst, and something new flickered in his eyes. “Easy,” he said, tucking the photo away. “That’s all for today.” He stood, paid the bill, and turned to me. “Give me your number. I’ll call you when I need you.” I rattled off my digits instantly. He saved the contact, gave me a curt nod, and walked away. Clean, efficient, no wasted motion. I sat there, my heart still hammering against my ribs as I watched him disappear through the cafe door. I pulled out my phone and texted my mom. “Mom, about this guy… I’m very, very satisfied.” She replied in seconds: “Really?! That’s wonderful! I told you he was a great catch!” I smiled at the screen. Oh, he was a catch, all right. Handsome, driven, and we shared a common enemy. I think… I was already starting to fall for him. 3. A week passed, and Ethan didn’t contact me. I stared at my phone constantly, refreshing my messages, terrified I’d miss his call. My mom, on the other hand, was relentless, hounding me daily for updates. “Lia, honey, you need to be more proactive! Men like it when a girl takes initiative.” “Ask him to a movie! Or dinner!” Her nagging was giving me a headache, so I just mumbled, “I know, I know.” Just as I was about to break down and call him myself, my phone rang. It was Ethan. “Are you free tonight?” His voice was as cool and crisp as ever. “Yes! I’m free!” I nearly leaped off the sofa. “Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up at this address.” He hung up. I stared at the address he’d texted—it was my own apartment building. I blinked. How did he know where I lived? Then again, for someone in his line of work, finding an address was probably child’s play. I shot into my bedroom and threw open my closet, a whirlwind of clothes and makeup. At seven o’clock sharp, a black SUV pulled up in front of my building. Ethan was behind the wheel. He saw me and gave a slight nod. I slid into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt. “A place Alex used to frequent.” My heart sank. So, this wasn’t a date. I’d just been getting ahead of myself. He drove to an old strip of bars on the Southside, parking the car on a quiet street before killing the engine. “He used to love a bar here called The Night Owl.” I nodded. “Yeah. He always said they had the cheapest drinks.” Ethan turned to look at me. “You still remember him so clearly.” “Of course,” I sneered. “If a dog bites you, you make damn sure you remember what it looks like.” He didn’t respond, just watched me. The silence stretched for a good ten seconds, making my skin prickle. Finally, he spoke. “Besides this bar, any other places? Or any… unusual habits? Something most people wouldn’t know.” I thought for a moment. “He has a burn scar on the inside of his left wrist. From a cigarette. It’s tiny, like a single, perfect period. He told me it was an accident from when he was a kid.” Ethan’s eyes sharpened. He took out his phone, seeming to type something down. “Anything else?” “He had a gambling problem,” I said. “The fifty thousand… he told me it was for an investment. I found out later he bet it all on sports. Lost everything.” Ethan’s fingers tapped a light rhythm on the steering wheel. “Which betting site?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. He never let me near his phone.” Silence fell again, the atmosphere turning icy. I felt a wave of disappointment, like I hadn’t been helpful at all. “Um…” I said softly. “Thank you.” “For what?” “For still investigating him. For being willing to catch him.” Ethan started the car. “Don’t thank me,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s my job.” He turned the car around and headed back toward my place. As we neared my building, he asked an odd question. “Are you close with your parents?” I was taken aback. “Yeah, they’re great. My dad dotes on me.” “What does your father do?” “He’s in international trade.” “The company name?” “Unity International,” I answered. “Why?” Ethan shook his head. “No reason. Just curious.” The car stopped in front of my building. I unbuckled my seatbelt, ready to get out. “Ethan,” I said, mustering all my courage. “Yeah?” “Can we… talk about something other than Alex sometime?” He looked at me, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “Okay.” 4. That one word, “Okay,” kept me walking on air for days. I started asking him out. “I know a new sushi place that’s supposed to be amazing,” I’d say. “Okay.” “There’s a new movie out with great reviews.” “Okay.” “The weather’s going to be perfect this weekend. We could go for a hike outside the city.” “Okay.” He never said no. But somehow, our dates always morphed into case briefings. At the sushi restaurant, I’d just be lifting a piece of salmon to my lips when he’d ask, “Did Alex like raw fish?” At the movies, halfway through the film, he’d lean in and whisper in my ear, “Do you remember the last four digits of his Social Security number?” On a mountaintop, as I was admiring the breathtaking view, he’d casually drop, “Did he ever mention any countries he wanted to escape to?” I was going crazy. But I couldn’t bring myself to give up. Because every now and then, I’d see a different side of him. Once, at dinner, I choked on a fish bone. He was on his feet in a second, moving behind me and performing the Heimlich maneuver. His arms wrapped around my waist, his chest pressed against my back, his warm breath fanning against my ear. In that moment, my face was redder than it had been when I was choking. Another time, we were leaving a restaurant when it started pouring. He took off his jacket and held it over my head, shielding me from the downpour. Half of his body was soaked, rain dripping from the ends of his short, dark hair. I looked up at him, and my heart hammered in my chest. I was becoming more and more certain. I was falling for him. And I even started to think he felt something for me, too. Why else would he agree to do all these things with me that were clearly outside of “work”? Why else would he have looked so panicked when I was choking? I told my mom what I was thinking. She was ecstatic. “I knew it! A mother’s intuition is never wrong! Lia, you’ve got to lock this one down!” I decided to be even bolder. We met for dinner again. Afterward, I didn’t let him take me straight home. “Let’s go for a walk by the river,” I suggested. He glanced at me but didn’t object. The night air by the river was chilly. I’d deliberately underdressed, and now I was shivering. I thought he might offer me his jacket again, like last time. He didn’t. He just looked at me and said, “If you’re cold, we should go back.” My heart plummeted. I wasn’t ready to give up. I stopped walking and turned to face him directly. “Ethan.” “Hmm?” “What… what exactly am I to you?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Are you just using me for this case, or… do you actually like me, even a little?” He fell silent. The river breeze whipped his jacket and tangled my hair. I waited, the silence stretching so long I thought he’d never answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, nearly carried away by the wind. “We’re getting close to a breakthrough in Alex’s case.” A flicker of hope ignited inside me. Did that mean once the case was over, we could finally… He cut through my fantasy. “When this is all over,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine, “I’ll give you an answer.” 5. When this is all over. I clung to those words like a promise. I dove headfirst into helping him, dredging up every memory I had of Alex. I dug through old chat logs, emails, photos—everything—and sent it all to him in organized folders. I even drew a map of Alex’s hometown from memory, marking all the places he might be hiding. Each time, Ethan’s reply was a simple “Received.” It was curt, but for me, it was all the encouragement I needed. I felt like we were soldiers fighting side by side. No, more than that—partners on the verge of becoming something more. One night, Ethan called me out of the blue. “We’ve got a lead on Alex.” My heart leaped into my throat. “Where?” “He’s in an abandoned factory on the west side of town. We’re moving in to apprehend him.” “That’s fantastic!” I exclaimed. “Lia,” he said my name, his tone serious. “We need your help.” “Anything! Just tell me!” “We need you to come to the site. To make a positive ID.” “Okay! I’m on my way!” I hung up the phone. I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door, not even bothering with a jacket. The abandoned factory he mentioned was in a remote area, and it took me nearly an hour of following my GPS to get there. A few unmarked cars were parked near the entrance.

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The year I went undercover, I took a bullet for the city’s most feared crime lord to prove my loyalty. Then, for three years, nothing. A black void where my memory used to be. The day I woke up, I tentatively reached out my hand. The man before me knelt with practiced ease, bringing his face close to my palm. “Can you go a little easy on me today?” he murmured, his voice laced with a strange sort of grievance. “I have a meeting later.” 1 I was utterly dumbfounded. “H-h-h-honey…” The word was barely out of my mouth before Eddie gently took my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles. “There are people watching, angel. Save it for when we get home, okay?” Excuse me? Was this the same Eddie Dillon? The ruthless, decisive crime lord whose name was whispered in fear across the city? My last memory of him was the cold steel of his gun pressed against my forehead, his eyes burning with disgust as he spat, “Get away from me!” Back then, I couldn’t even look at him without getting a death glare in return, let alone touch him. But now? He wasn’t just initiating contact; he was doing it with a look of pure, docile submission. And the most insane part? Everyone else in the room acted like this was just another Tuesday. Panic clawed at my throat, and I tried to snatch my hand back. His grip tightened, a dangerous glint entering his eyes. “Ava,” he purred, his voice dropping low. “Why aren’t you hitting me?” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve fallen for that pretty boy, haven’t you? Is that it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Fine. I’ll have him shipped off to some godforsaken desert until he’s begging for a shadow.” He was being completely unreasonable. But I knew Eddie. He wasn’t a man of empty threats. Gritting my teeth, I raised my other hand and swung. The slap echoed in the silent room. He didn’t even flinch. One side of his perfect face instantly flushed a deep red. My hand trembled, a cold dread washing over me. I half-expected him to pull the gun from his waistband and end me right there. Instead, he touched his cheek, his lips moving almost imperceptibly. “That hurt.” Well, what was I supposed to do about it? You asked for it. You want me to kiss it better? The thought had barely formed when Eddie dropped to both knees, pressing his bruised cheek into my palm and nuzzling against it. “Kiss it better, Ava,” he whispered. Oh, for God’s sake. Just let the world end now. 2 Three years ago, I was sent in as a mole. It did not start well. Eddie Dillon was a ghost, a phantom. Getting close to him was like trying to catch smoke. He was always flanked by a legion of bodyguards. My only way in was to get a job at a high-end club he owned. After weeks of waiting, I finally got word he was coming. I was desperate, reckless. I decided to show off by opening a beer bottle with my bare hands. The cap shot off like a bullet and ricocheted right off Eddie’s nose. The beer foamed over, drenching his custom-tailored suit. That night, I learned what it felt like to be pinned by a gaze that could strip the soul from your bones. My punishment? Bathroom duty. For a month. Then, my chance came again. Eddie was back at the club, this time for a business meeting. My handler had intel that he was getting into some dirty dealings and I had to get eyes on it. I begged the club manager for a chance. She gave me a long, pitying look. “Honey, you’re gorgeous, you’ve got a great body, but…” She squeezed her eyes shut and forced the words out. “The boss isn’t into men.” Oh, right. I forgot. I’d kept my hair short, and when I first applied, I saw all the bombshell waitresses had long, flowing hair. On a whim, I’d lied and said I was a guy. I stamped my foot in frustration. “But what if he is? Secretly?” I pressed. “Think about it! He comes here all the time and never so much as looks at any of the girls. He’s always alone.” A flicker of understanding crossed her face. I’d gotten to her. She came back with a sheer, mesh top. I waved my hands frantically. No way. My chest was… noticeable. It would give me away in a second. I’d heard that men of his stature often had… peculiar tastes. “Get me a schoolgirl outfit,” I said. I scrubbed my face clean of all makeup, applying only a slick of strawberry-flavored lip balm. When I pushed the door open to the private room, every man inside froze, their drinks halfway to their lips. A kind-looking older man spoke up. “You lost, kid?” My eyes found Eddie. He looked bored, unimpressed. I pitched my voice high and innocent. “Big brother?” His brow furrowed. “You’ve got the wrong person.” I rushed toward him, not seeing the empty bottle on the floor. My foot landed on it, and I went down. It was a perfect slide, like a baseball player stealing home, that brought my face dangerously close to… well, his lap. Mortification burned through me. He extended a single finger and tapped my forehead. “Where do you think you’re looking?” I looked up, my hands finding his knees, giving them a hopeful squeeze. “Please, brother, take me in.” The tears came on command, hot and fast. “My dad’s a gambling addict, he lost everything. My mom’s too sick to get out of bed, and my little sister… she hasn’t eaten in days.” Eddie flicked a lighter open and closed, the flame dancing in his dark eyes. He was unmoved. “I’ve heard that story at least ten times this month.” So what? This time, I wasn’t leaving. I was going to get back everything I’d lost. One of his men entered. “Boss, Mr. Shaw is here.” My internal alarms blared. My handler had warned me about this man specifically. Eddie’s expression hardened. He stood, stepping around me. “Get out.” I wouldn’t budge. “Not until you agree to take me with you.” His eyes, black and bottomless, fixed on me. “Are you even legal?” I nodded. He glanced away, a humorless smirk on his lips. “Tough luck. I’m not into adults.” What the—? The man was a total creep. Before I could say another word, Mr. Shaw strolled in, his gaze bouncing between me and Eddie with amusement. “Well, well, Eddie. Didn’t know you were into this sort of thing. You should have said something. I’ve got plenty more where she came from.” In a flash, Eddie had a gun out, the cold barrel pressed against my forehead. His eyes were ice. “Get. Away. From. Me.” I hovered by the door, trying to listen in. Suddenly, voices were raised, erupting into a full-blown argument. I burst back into the room right behind Eddie’s men. Mr. Shaw was clutching his forehead, blood streaming between his fingers. He had his own gun leveled at Eddie. “Go to hell!” he screamed. His finger was tightening on the trigger— In that split second, I didn’t think. I just moved. Something inside me knew he couldn’t die. Not like this. I launched myself at him, a blur of motion. As I tackled him to the ground, the gunshot roared in my ears. My last wisp of consciousness was filled with Eddie’s voice, raw with fury. “You damn fool!” If I hadn’t pushed him, that bullet would have gone straight through his head. Miraculously, I survived. But a piece of me died. My memory was gone. And the Ava who woke up was… different. According to witnesses, she was: A total perv. She’d throw herself at Eddie for kisses at the drop of a hat. She once snuck into the bathroom while he was showering to “measure his dimensions.” And, most bizarrely, she refused to sleep on anything but his chiseled abs. A social cannonball. Her official title was, essentially, “Eddie’s Overlord.” She would cling to him in public, calling him “hubby” without a shred of shame, using his infatuation with her as a license to stir up trouble wherever she went. And, on top of all that, she was extremely violent. She slapped him. Often. When she was feeling particularly inventive, she used… implements. The basement of the Dillon mansion was a testament to her creativity—a private collection of tools, all for Eddie. 3 I slammed my hand on the table. “That’s a load of crap!” Barney, the bodyguard Eddie had assigned me, jumped, his body trembling. “M-m-m-ma’am… it’s all true.” His only real flaw was that debilitating stutter. The truth was, I had flashes, disjointed images of what I’d been like these past few years. But I couldn’t accept it. I was trying to convince myself it was all just a long, terrible nightmare. I leaned in, whispering to Barney. “When I hit him… Eddie… he didn’t fight back? Not even once?” Barney nervously picked at his fingers, his mind replaying the scenes. Every time his boss got slapped, he wouldn’t get angry. He’d just get this… wounded puppy look, gently taking her hand and asking if she wanted to go again. “He… he r-r-re…” Resisted? No, that couldn’t be right. All ten of my fingers were still attached. “…really didn’t seem to mind. You’d just hit him harder,” Barney finished in a rush, looking at me with terrified eyes. “The b-boss used to say that only a man with a wife gets the privilege of being hit. He said he felt s-sorry for us because we had no one to hit us.” I was speechless. Now that my memories were back, my mission was all I could think about. I had to contact my handler. When I finally got him on the line, his first message was a single question mark. You’re not dead? he texted. Me: Are you trying to curse me? I’ll file a complaint! Handler: Ooh, did the little baby get her feelings hurt? Don’t make me come over there and take away your rattle. Me: …Did I do something to you? Why are you being so vicious? The sarcasm kept flowing. Wouldn’t dream of it. You’re Eddie Dillon’s precious little treasure now. I spent months trying to find you, thought you’d been kidnapped. Then I finally spot you on the street, try to get you out of there, and what happens— And then it hit me. I remembered. I remembered everything. His texts became more frantic. You pointed at me and screamed ‘stranger danger’! You said I was an old, crusty fossil! That I wasn’t fit to lick the mud off your precious Eddie’s shoes! I was so mad I couldn’t eat for three days! Me? Crusty? I’m the prize jewel of this entire department! I was so, so sorry. I apologized profusely. Eventually, we got down to business. He filled me in. The investigation was closed. Mr. Shaw had been arrested. Eddie Dillon, for his cooperation with the police, had been given a public commendation as a model citizen. They’d dug into every corner of his life and found nothing. The reason they’d left me with him was simple: during my amnesia, Eddie had guarded me like a dragon hoarding gold. They couldn’t risk spooking him. But more importantly, I hadn’t wanted to leave. I was a clingy, possessive, royal pain in the ass, and they had no idea what to do with me. So, they let it be. But now, it was up to me to find a tactful way to disappear. Right before he signed off, my handler added one last gleeful jab. You know, for all your crazy, he seems genuinely into you. Takes a licking and keeps on ticking. If you just up and leave him… well, heh heh… What the hell was that old fossil ‘heh heh’-ing about? 4 My head was spinning. Just then, a call came in from Eddie’s assistant. “Ma’am, you haven’t done your daily check-in call yet.” “Check-in for what?” He sighed dramatically. “That explains it.” Then his voice turned pleading. “Ma’am, you have to get down here. The boss is about to burn the entire company to the ground.” On my way! I didn’t know the way, so I made Barney drive. He started whimpering. I thought he was just overwhelmed with excitement. I clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Barney. From now on, you’re my right-hand man. Do a good job, and you’ll be rewarded.” “That’s n-not it, ma’am,” he wailed. “It’s just… I’ve f-f-failed my driver’s test… f-five times.” Useless! I made him navigate instead. Half an hour later, I was deeply regretting that decision. We came to an intersection. “Which way, Barney?” He rolled down the window, sticking his head out so far he nearly fell. “S-s-str…” “S-s-str…” Straight? Got it. I even sped up a little. Barney’s face turned beet red. “STRAIGHT into a right turn!” …I was seriously considering just pushing him out of the car. A little while later, we came to a fork in the road. Barney pointed excitedly at a bridge. “U-u-up…” “U-u-up…” I swerved onto the bridge. His face crumpled in despair. He slapped his knees, nearly jumping out of his seat. “I’ve been this way before! We were stuck in traffic for a whole day!” For the love of God. Thanks to Barney, by the time we reached Eddie’s company, it was already dark. Eddie’s assistant, Mr. Evans, was a true professional. The security guard told me he’d been waiting by the curb for me since the afternoon. “So sorry,” I said. “The traffic was a nightmare.” He offered a cryptic smile. “Don’t worry about it. This is nothing.” He led the way, walking with a strange, stiff-legged limp. “Mr. Evans, what happened to your leg?” Barney, of course, answered for him. “It probably f-f-f-fell asleep!” Mr. Evans shot him a stern look. “Watch your language in front of Mrs. Dillon.” 5 It wasn’t until we arrived that I realized I had no idea what I was supposed to do here. Mr. Evans just smiled. “Ma’am, please. Don’t hold back. Do what you do best.” There was a hidden meaning in his words, and I understood it the moment we reached the CEO’s office. A woman was draped all over Eddie. “So she took a bullet for you, so what?” she whined. “I get it, Eddie, you’re grateful. You feel like you owe her. But you’ve done more than enough. Do you have any idea what a joke you’ve become because of her? Do you know what people are saying about you?” Eddie was slouched in his chair, chin propped on his hand, his attention fixed on the phone sitting on his desk. “What are they saying?” he asked, his tone dripping with boredom. The woman sniffed. “They’re saying you’re whipped. Spineless. That you let a woman walk all over you, that you have no dignity left.” Eavesdropping from the hallway, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my back. Eddie wasn’t even listening. “Oh.” He shrugged. “They’re just jealous.” The woman was stunned. Then her eyes welled up with tears. “You treat her like she’s the center of the universe. What about me? What am I to you?” I recognized her then. Lila. The daughter of one of Eddie’s most loyal men, who had died saving Eddie’s life years ago. Eddie, burdened by that debt, had practically raised Lila like a little sister. No wonder she was getting away with this. I’d seen what happened to other women who tried to get this close to him. They ended up so terrified they’d cross the street to avoid him. Eddie didn’t even look up. “You’re thinking too much,” he said flatly. “You’re not in my universe.” Lila’s face crumpled. “If I had been there that day, I would have taken a bullet for you too! What’s so special about her?” I flicked a button from my cuff into the room. “Eek! A cockroach!” Lila shrieked and leaped behind Eddie. When she realized she’d been had, she pointed a trembling, furious finger at me. “That doesn’t count! You cheated, Ava!” “Ava.” Eddie’s eyes lit up. He stood and walked toward me. “You finally came to pick me up.” Honestly, seeing him still sent a jolt of fear through me. I instinctively took a step back. He froze, a look of wounded confusion on his face. Lila wasn’t done. She clung to his arm. “You don’t love him, Ava! You just use him as your personal punching bag. You don’t even give him a shred of dignity. Let’s be real, you’re only with him for his face or his money. You’re a horrible woman!” Damn it. She wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t even argue. Eddie’s face turned dangerously cold. “Get out.” Alright, fine. I’ll make myself scarce. This actually made things easier. I wouldn’t have to agonize over how to say goodbye. I turned to leave, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “I was talking to her,” he said, his voice a low growl. Lila’s jaw dropped. Barney and Mr. Evans, ever the professionals, materialized on either side of her, efficiently escorting her out. “Hey, I was here first!” Lila protested as they dragged her away. “You can’t just cut in line!” The heavy office door clicked shut, sealing us in silence. I had no idea what to do. I was searching for something, anything, to say to break the suffocating tension. “Honey.” Hmm? Eddie moved closer, wrapping his arms around me loosely, as if afraid to hold on too tight. “It’s been too long. I missed you.” We just saw each other this morning. The left side of his face was still swollen from my handiwork. I stood perfectly still. He nuzzled the side of my neck. “Why… why didn’t you hit me today?” I didn’t answer, focusing all my energy on keeping my hands from shaking. It was strange. It was like my body had its own memory. The moment Eddie’s face got close, my hands started to itch. I forced a laugh. “After hearing what Lila said, I did some thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t be trampling all over your dignity like that. I think… I need to break this habit of hitting you.” Eddie immediately let me go. He took a deep, steadying breath and pulled out his gun. My own breath hitched. “What are you doing?” I whispered. He strode past me toward the door, his voice a furious snarl. “I’m going to kill Lila.” 6 Of course, he didn’t get the chance. In that moment of crisis, I acted. I slapped him. Hard. The force of it sent a shockwave up my arm. He wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. “More,” he whispered. “Baby.” No. I couldn’t. I wasn’t a sadist. I held up my throbbing hand. “I can’t. My hand really hurts this time.” Back at the mansion, Eddie expertly located the first-aid kit. He pulled me onto his lap, his touch gentle as he treated my hand. “You can use the tools next time,” he murmured, a mixture of pain and self-reproach in his voice. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Eddie, why do you like it so much when I hit you?” He kept his eyes down, focused on dabbing antiseptic on my knuckles. A small smile played on his lips. “Because it’s you. Anything you do to me… I like it.” He was a lost cause. That was the only explanation. But I had to try. “Lila said you’re only like this because I saved you. But there are a million ways to show gratitude. You don’t have to use your body to…” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t even finish the sentence, the shame was too much. The next second, he was on his knees between my legs. The movement was so fluid, so practiced, it was clear this wasn’t his first time. “You’re acting strange today, Ava.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him my memory was back. What would he do? For now, I had to play it cool, test the waters. I came up with a random excuse. “I’m just… getting tired of it.” “Are you getting tired of me?” Eddie was tall, and even on his knees, his eyes were level with mine. They were glistening, shimmering with unshed tears. It looked like if I nodded, the floodgates would open. A wave of guilt washed over me. I felt like I was a heartless player, about to dump a devoted partner after having my fun. “No, of course not.” He didn’t believe me. “You are! You’re bored with me!” I raised my hand as if taking an oath. “I’m not! You’re handsome, you’re rich, you have an incredible body, how could I ever get tired of you?!” His voice trembled with anger. “Then why haven’t you kissed me all day?!” I fell silent. What could I possibly say to that? Eddie’s eyes, wide and teary, fixed on mine. He held out his arms, his voice catching. “Kisses. And hugs.” He was actually pouting. My God, what had I done? I had taken a stone-cold killer, a man who wouldn’t blink while ending a life, and trained him into a fragile, clingy crybaby. I could have had a career as a lion tamer. I deliberately kept my face a stony mask, refusing to give in. Just like he used to do to me. And then it happened. A single tear escaped the corner of Eddie’s eye and traced a path down his cheek, like a broken string of pearls. Poetic. Pathetic. One minute passed. Two minutes. Five minutes later, the silent stream was still flowing. I gave in.

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The rejection text from my crush landed just before spring break. When I asked him why, Liam’s reply was simple. Liam: I like girls who are brave and smart. I immediately typed back. Me: Did you forget who pulled you out of the lake when your boat sank last week? Two seconds of bouncing dots, then… Liam: Okay, so you’re brave. But what about smart? Another two-second pause from me. Me: Guess why your boat was the only one that was leaking. Liam: ? 1 The moment I sent it, my phone started ringing. Liam. I declined the call. He was relentless. By the time I was boarding my flight, he’d called a grand total of eighteen times. I ignored every single one. A final text buzzed through: [You’re in the next state over, right? Just you wait.] I powered my phone off, a satisfied smile spreading across my face as I settled into my airplane seat. Finally, it was Liam’s turn to chase me for a change. As for why his boat was taking on water? How should I know? I don’t build boats. 2 Two hours later, we touched down. I switched my phone back on to a gratifying stream of messages from Liam. Liam: Booked a flight. Liam: At the airport. Liam: Landing at seven. Liam: Chloe. You just wait. I let out a long breath. Ah, so this is what it feels like to have someone checking in with you. Utterly terrifying. Over the next two hours, I executed a flawless sequence of operations: baggage claim, dinner, and booking a room at the airport hotel. Once checked into my room, less than five hundred yards from the terminal, I finally felt secure. There was no way he’d think to look for me right under his nose. The old “hiding in plain sight” trick. At seven-thirty, my phone rang. Liam. I answered with all the unearned confidence I could muster. “To what do I owe the honor?” His voice was cold. “What floor?” I froze. “What?” “The airport hotel. What floor are you on? What room number?” I shot up in bed, genuinely stunned. “Holy shit, how did you know?” A dry, humorless laugh came through the phone. “Your phone’s step count has been under a thousand since you landed, Chloe. Do the math.” 3 Damn it. I have a thing for smart guys. Of course, Liam might just be a little too smart. Down in the hotel lobby, I shuffled guiltily toward him. Liam’s brow furrowed the second he saw me. “Why are you wearing slippers down here? The floor is freezing.” I offered a sheepish grin. “I was just in a hurry to see you.” His handsome face darkened again as he tugged on the hood of my sweatshirt. “Alright, talk. The boat.” I threw my hands up in surrender. “I don’t know anything!” “Still playing dumb?” “I really don’t!” My voice was a pathetic whine. It was a total lie, and now I was regretting it. The automatic doors slid open, letting in another guest and a blast of cold air. I hopped from foot to foot, muttering, “I just wanted to sound smart.” Liam looked at me, and a flicker of something—maybe exasperated amusement—crossed his face. He nudged his large suitcase in front of me. “Sit.” I blinked. “Huh?” “You’re practically tap-dancing to stay warm,” he sighed. “Sit on the suitcase. Get your feet off the floor.” “Oh,” I said, hoisting myself up. As I settled, he draped his jacket over my legs. I couldn’t help myself. “Liam, you know, it was a lot of trouble for you to fly all the way out here… maybe instead…” “Instead, you just give in and be mine.” “Instead, you let me throw you in the lake this time.” My mouth dropped open. 4 Seriously? How can a mouth that looks that good say something so cold? We both seemed to freeze for a second. Then, reality hit. I scrambled off the suitcase and bolted. “You jerk! Next time I’ll flip your whole damn boat over!” “I knew it was you!” he yelled after me, his voice a mix of anger and frustration. Honestly, it wasn’t me. But “flipping his boat” felt like the right level of pissed-off. Back in my room, my phone buzzed again. Liam: Come out. I ignored it, turning my attention back to a TikTok of a cute guy with great abs. Liam: I ordered food. I swallowed hard, my eyes still glued to the screen. Liam: …Whatever. It’s outside your door. My flight back is at nine. I’m leaving. I stared at the message. He’s leaving? Already? After a moment’s hesitation, I slipped off the bed, planning to just crack the door and peek down the hall. The second I opened it, my face collided with something warm and soft. Oh. It was a chest. A very solid chest wrapped in a black sweater. “Why do you lead with your head when you open a door?!” Liam’s face was flushed as he grabbed my shoulders to steady me. I was about to come up with a witty retort, but my body had other plans. A sudden warmth trickled from my nose. I was having a nosebleed. 5 For the record, the nosebleed was because the hotel air was ridiculously dry. It had absolutely nothing to do with Liam’s 42-inch chest being squeezed into a tight, black turtleneck sweater. Nothing at all. Liam pressed a cool washcloth to my forehead, his expression a complicated mix of concern and disbelief. “Chloe, I’m not kidding, I’ve never seen a girl get a nosebleed for… this reason.” With my eyes closed, I replied sagely, “That’s just because their rooms weren’t dry enough.” He let out another one of those exasperated laughs. “Hey, what about your nine o’clock flight?” I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 9:10. You’re super late, Liam.” “I am super late,” he agreed, holding up his phone. “Already rescheduled for tomorrow.” My eyes popped open. “You were actually going to leave?” Liam gave me a look. “What else would I be doing?” “I don’t know, I thought you were bluffing to get me to open the door.” “Why would I need to lie about something like that?” he scoffed. I blinked. “Then what is worth lying about?” He paused, not answering. Instead, he took the washcloth, went to heat up the food he’d brought, and then held a forkful of pasta to my lips. “Eat.” Well, now. Room service and he feeds me? This nosebleed was totally worth it. I chewed, swallowed, and opened my mouth for the next bite. “You have hands for a reason,” came Liam’s deadpan voice, dashing my hopes. “Also, don’t open your mouth that wide. You look like a baby bird.” 6 Honestly, I sometimes worry Liam is so sharp-tongued he might accidentally poison himself just by licking his lips. It’s a serious concern. If we ever kissed, would I get poisoned too? After we finished eating, Liam started gathering the trash to take back to his room. “What’s in that little box?” I asked, pointing to a small, elegant container left on the table. He glanced over. “Chocolates. They were an add-on to meet the delivery minimum.” I opened it up. The aroma was unique, rich and dark. There were six of them. I carefully set aside the prettiest one for Liam and, with a heavy heart, forced myself to eat the five ugly ones. When Liam came back from dropping the trash outside, he saw the single, perfect chocolate sitting alone on the table. He just stood there for a second and said, “Wow. Just… wow.” See? I knew he was picky. He only likes the pretty things. By that logic, he should be obsessed with me. Liam froze. “What?” I blinked, then repeated the thought in my head, louder this time: Liam is a huge idiot if he doesn’t like me. A vein pulsed in his temple. “Are you insulting me?” My eyes widened in mock surprise. “Whoa, are you a mind reader now?” He strode over, picked up the remaining chocolate, broke it open, and sniffed. He let out a long, slow breath. “Chloe, for the love of God, can you please pay attention? These are high-proof liqueur chocolates.” 7 Liqueur what now? All I heard was “more snacks.” I propped my chin on my hands and watched him pace around, a goofy smile on my face. He was so handsome. I wanted to kiss him. Liam’s face was looking a little flushed as he came over and helped me to my feet. “Okay, time for bed. No drunk antics.” “I’m not drunk,” I insisted, pouting. “I’m perfectly lucid.” “Right, right, you’re the queen of lucid,” he said, humoring me. “Now get in bed.” I slapped his hand away and, with surprisingly accurate aim, planted both of my palms flat on his chest. I stared at his face, which was now turning a brilliant shade of red, and asked seriously, “Could a drunk person find their target this perfectly?” The vein in his forehead was practically throbbing. “Chloe… you just wait until tomorrow. I am going to get you back for this.” He sighed, resigned, and guided me toward the bed. “Alright, you’ve had your feel. Can you go to sleep now?” I shook my head. “Not enough.” His face was the color of a ripe tomato. His voice was a strained whisper. “What else could you possibly want?” My eyes drifted down to his chest, and I gave him a shy smile. “Can I… take a sip?” 8 You know what they say: a guy who takes care of you is a guy worth keeping. My hands were still resting on the solid warmth of his chest. He was just standing there, blushing, not saying no. My smile grew bolder. I started to lean in— THUD. I stared in shock as Liam, in a desperate attempt to evade me, stumbled backward and fell right off the side of the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. Really? If you didn’t want me to, you could have just said no. You didn’t have to throw yourself to the ground. “Chloe…” He pushed himself up, his face an unreadable shade of crimson. He stared at me for a few long, silent seconds, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Just… left. Didn’t say another word. Made a right turn and was gone. I lay on the bed, stunned, for a moment. I looked down at my palms, where the warm, soft feeling of his sweater still lingered. After a minute, I reached over to the nightstand, pulled out a tissue, and silently stuffed it up my nose. 9 Liam didn’t just leave my room. He left the city. The next morning, I checked his location and saw a travel route that spanned a hundred miles overnight, his step count nearing twenty thousand. I was overcome with a deep sense of guilt. I was sorry. But I’d totally do it again. I woke up for real around nine, figuring he’d had enough time to cool off. I tentatively sent him a “Peeking Cat” sticker. No reply. Okay, still mad. I opened a food delivery app and ordered his favorite coffee and some pastries to be sent to his dorm, adding a note for the little card: [Remember! You are my precious prince! If you are hurt or sad, everyone else must perish!] Satisfied, I placed the order. Half an hour later, the app notified me that the delivery was complete. Humming a little tune, I texted Liam again. Me: Did you like the royal treats, your highness? The reply came almost instantly. A single, cold syllable. Liam: Hah. I sat bolt upright. What? Still angry? That can’t be right. Just then, a message popped up from the bakery. [Hi, so sorry, our system glitched and the note only printed the first and last words (crying emoji)]. A terrible feeling began to creep over me. My fingers trembled as I typed back. Me: So… what did the recipient see? It took them a full thirty seconds to reply. Five words that hit me like a ton of bricks. [Remember! You must perish!] 10 Fine, fine, I’ll perish! Is that what you want?! Ignoring the bakery’s frantic apologies, I scrambled to text Liam. [That’s not what I meant! Your Highness, let me explain!!] The Prince was not in a listening mood. No reply. After a few seconds of panic, I was a whirlwind of motion—packing my suitcase, booking a flight back to campus. An apology requires sincerity. Chasing a guy requires effort. I liked Liam, so what was one more trip back to school? Ping. A text from my roommate. [Chloe, you didn’t actually go home, did you?? You have a Business Law final in three days, remember??] My packing came to a screeching halt. I scrambled to open the class group chat, scrolling frantically until I found the exam schedule I’d completely overlooked. Perfect. Now I had an even better reason to go back. Dragging my suitcase downstairs, I hit the voice memo button, my tone serious and solemn, but with a smile I couldn’t hide. “Liam. Wait for me.” 11 The flight was two hours. I took a cab straight to campus. On the way, I rehearsed my defense, a full three-minute speech explaining the note and my behavior the other night. I got to campus around two in the afternoon, which was prime study time for Liam. He’d almost certainly be at the library. I sprinted to my dorm, dropped my bags, threw on a fresh, barely-there makeup look, and grabbed the new box of pastries I’d bought as a peace offering. The second-floor study area was buzzing with people. I scanned the tables from the doorway but didn’t see him. Just as I was wondering where he could be, I heard a voice from the end of the hall, near the water fountains. “Dude, was that Isabelle just now?” I froze, turning my head. It was Liam and his roommate. And in Liam’s hand was a beautifully packaged bag of pastries. I glanced down at the identical bag in my own hand. My stomach dropped. “Nice one, man,” his roommate said, nudging him playfully. “Isabelle is the ice queen of our department. I can’t believe you actually won her over.” I was too far away to see their expressions clearly, but their words carried down the quiet hall. I waited for Liam to say something. To correct him. But he didn’t. He didn’t say a single word. His roommate was still talking. “I mean, Chloe’s hot and all, but… what’s the term? A ditz? You’re too smart for a beautiful ditz.” “A brainy goddess is way more your speed, man. You two are a perfect match.” I just stood there and listened. From beginning to end, Liam never once objected. It wasn’t until they started walking toward the study room entrance that I finally saw his face. He was smiling. And as his eyes met mine, that smile dissolved into shock. I held his gaze for a few seconds, my own face a placid mask. “Fancy seeing you here,” I said, my voice perfectly calm.

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The System said I was a crybaby, so it gave me the villain’s script. Wiping away my tears, I looked up at my six-foot-three brother and stammered, “I’m sorry, but you’re a bastard, and I have to bully you.” The System’s voice was harsh in my mind. “Keep insulting him! Slap him!” “St-stupid… idiot!” I managed. Then I clumsily rose onto my tiptoes, my hand reaching shakily for his face. The slap was barely a tap. My brother seemed to enjoy it. 1 In the world of this book, the man who would one day become the most bloodthirsty and misanthropic Regent in history, Kael, was currently kneeling in the snow. Our father had just discovered he wasn’t his biological son and had cast him out in the freezing cold as punishment. And I was his universally despised stepsister, Faye. My role was to deliver him a bowl of scalding chicken soup during his moment of utter disgrace. Not to drink, of course. To his legs. [Stop crying! All you do is cry, you’ll cry all your good fortune away!] the System bellowed impatiently in my head. [Sniff… but I’m scared.] My legs were trembling so hard I could barely hold the soup bowl steady. It wasn’t my fault. Kael was terrifying. He had sharp, fierce eyes and a commanding presence, and he’d shot up to six-foot-three. Even kneeling, he looked like a mountain. Worse, he was a battle-hardened soldier who could snap a man’s neck with one hand. He’d just rushed back from the training grounds and was still wearing form-fitting leather armor that did nothing to hide the powerful muscles beneath. His chest, rising and falling with each breath, was the most intimidating part. I hesitated for a long time before finally getting my tears under control. The searing soup had already raised several blisters on my hands. I walked over to him. “Brother,” I whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Then I let my hands go limp, and the bowl tilted. But Kael, hearing my apology, had already turned. With a flick of two fingers, he batted the bowl aside before it could hit him. Only a few drops of soup splashed onto his thigh. He frowned, his expression darkening as he prepared to question me. But then two streams of fresh tears burst from my eyes. The System was yelling at me again. [Are you an idiot? Why did you say sorry? Are you brain-dead?!] [I’m sorry, I’ve never done anything like this before.] [Do you want to complete this mission and leave this world or not? I’m warning you, if you keep being such a coward, I’ll leave you here to be tortured to death by Kael after he turns evil!] [I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!] My apologies turned into gulping sobs. Kael’s anger melted into exasperation. “Were you holding that for a long time?” he asked suddenly, his gaze falling on the blisters on my palms. I nodded. “Don’t play the saint right now,” he said coldly. “It’s distracting, unsightly, and you’ve stained my clothes.” I froze. In the original story, Faye scalded Kael’s leg so badly that, combined with the prolonged kneeling, he became permanently crippled. He was only healed later when he met the story’s heroine, who nursed him back to health. Kael never forgot what Faye did. Once he became Regent, he had her branded with a hot iron every day. They would let the wounds heal, then tear them open and brand her again. Cruelty and a long memory were Kael’s defining traits. A loud mouth and a painful ending were mine. The System let out a screech of frustration. [Why does he think you were bringing him soup to drink? Is he crazy? Why is he trying to see the good in you?] Because I’m just a timid, soft-hearted person, I explained silently, not daring to say it to the System. [Fix this! Now! Kick him! Kick him a few times, try to break his leg!] I scrambled to obey. I lifted my right foot. Kael, who had just looked away with a cold, dismissive expression, suddenly went rigid. He slowly lowered his gaze. A delicate, embroidered slipper was pressed against his lower abdomen, grinding back and forth. The pressure wasn’t heavy. It didn’t hurt. But the single pearl on the toe of the slipper trembled nervously. My voice was small and nasal as I sniffled, “Brother, are you angry now?” 2 [! HOST! YOU CALL THAT A KICK? I COULD BREATHE ON HIM HARDER THAN THAT!] the System roared. I held back my tears, determined not to cry in front of Kael again. The System’s scolding left me flustered. I started to pull my foot away, but another sharp reprimand from the System made me press it back against him. [But… I think he is angry. His ears are all red,] I whispered in my defense. Kael’s ears were indeed red—a translucent, crimson hue, as if all the blood in his body had rushed to them. He stared down at my slipper, then shot me an icy glare. “Faye, do you have any idea what you’re doing?” That scared me even more. Ignoring the System’s threats, I started sobbing again. “I’m sorry!” I whimpered, trying to retract my foot. But this time, Kael’s hand shot out and grabbed my ankle. His palm was searingly hot, his long fingers wrapping around me with ease. Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell in a clumsy heap in the snow right in front of him. The tears I’d been holding back finally came crashing down. Only then did Kael slowly release me. He tilted his chin up, looking down at my pathetic, sprawling form with an air of indifference. “If you ever come near me again, it won’t be just a fall.” I nodded, trembling, and scrambled away. After a few steps, I stopped and turned back. I gave him a deep bow, repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Then I rushed forward again, intending to pat the footprint off his clothes. But my hand brushed against a hard, raised object beneath the fabric. ! He had a dagger hidden there! For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed Kael’s face. He seized my wrist, grabbing my collar and pulling me up so we were eye to eye. “Don’t get any ideas. It’s just that… it’s been a long time… so it’s easy to…” He took a deep, steadying breath, cutting off his own vague explanation. “Get away from me!” he snarled. Coming from a man who had seen battle, the force of his voice was enough to make my legs turn to jelly. I stumbled away, my feet sinking deep into the snow with every panicked step. Once I was back in my room, I finally caught my breath enough to speak to the System. “That counts as a success, right, Mr. System?” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “I spilled the soup, I kicked him a bunch, and he got angry and yelled at me.” The System was speechless. [Your next mission,] it said, its voice dripping with annoyance, [is to imprison Kael after he’s thrown out of the family. You will whip him and humiliate him every day.] “How… how do I humiliate him?” [Just improvise… no, forget it. When the time comes, you’ll listen to me. Do exactly as I say. Not one word more, not one action more. Got it?] I nodded obediently. But the System still wasn’t convinced. [Faye, do you understand what ‘do exactly as I say’ means? If I tell you to breathe hard, you don’t get to breathe soft. If I tell you not to cry, you suck those tears right back in!] I clenched my fists. “I’ll try my best next time! I’m sorry, Mr. System. I messed things up for you this time.” That seemed to satisfy it. [By the way, the source text is vague about this part of Kael’s life. So you only need to remember one line. You have to get this line right.] The System’s voice changed, mimicking a tone that was chillingly cool and flippant, cruel and sharp. [Brother, for the rest of your life, you are fit for only one thing: to be my dog.] 3 When Kael was finally cast out, his body was covered in wounds from being beaten with rods. His thin linen clothes were no match for the biting wind. The only things he took with him were the sword he had earned through his military service and a scented sachet his mother had left him. He was a lonely figure, but his back was ramrod straight. Even in defeat, he hadn’t lost his formidable spirit. I thought he would have no lingering attachment to our home, but as he stood at the gate, he suddenly turned and asked a servant, “Where is Faye?” The servant’s face was hard. “Kael, you are no longer part of this family. Why should we report Miss Faye’s whereabouts to you?” A flicker of something crossed Kael’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a cold sneer. “I was just relieved that little pest wasn’t here to get in my way. From now on, this family and I go our separate ways.” Hiding in a nearby alley, I flinched when I heard that. How did he know I was planning to get in his way? [Stop shaking! He’s coming! Grab the club and go! Hit him over the head and drag him into the carriage!] the System snapped. I scrambled out of the alley. This time, I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. I just raised the large wooden club. THWACK! Kael collapsed without a sound. Only then did I whisper, “I’m sorry, Brother.” Thankfully, I had swept the ground beforehand and even laid down a small mat. It would be so rude to let him fall face-first into the mud. I let out a sigh of relief and hooked my arms under his, dragging him toward the carriage. Kael was thinner than I’d imagined. Up close, I could see how his cheekbones jutted out and how his eyes were slightly sunken. I sighed again. He was barely twenty, yet he had to endure betrayal, punishment, and exile. And through it all, he remained so strong, never shedding a single tear. Not like me. Just thinking about what he was going through made my eyes well up. I really admired him. If I had met him in my own world, I would have tried my best to be his friend. He was so big, I was afraid I’d lose my grip and his head would hit the carriage door. So I gently cradled his head against my chest to steady him. Kael was unconscious, and the System didn’t care about these small details. After I got him inside, I realized he was burning up with a fever, his face flushed a deep red. [Why do you care? He won’t die. You could stab him seven or eight times and he’d still be fine. He’s the male lead,] the System grumbled. I hardened my heart, climbed into the driver’s seat, and urged the horses toward my private villa. I was born to my father’s second wife, making Kael and I half-siblings. Now, I guess we were nothing to each other. My mother came from a wealthy merchant family and had left me a country estate for summer retreats. For me, it was a paradise. For Kael, it was about to become the crucible where he would be reforged in fire. I fastened an iron collar around his neck and locked shackles on his wrists and ankles. Kael’s head lolled forward, completely unaware as I tied him to a chair with thick ropes and even removed his shirt. Everything was ready. All I had to do was wait for him to wake up. Then the humiliation could begin. 4 [When he wakes up, you’re going to douse him with a bucket of cold water. Then, you whip him. Whip him until he’s furious, struggling against his bonds but completely helpless. Got it?] I nodded obediently. [And then,] the System continued, [at his moment of ultimate shame, you look at him with cold, merciless contempt and tell him to be your dog. Understood?] I nodded furiously. I’d been practicing the line for days. I didn’t want to disappoint Mr. System, who had the misfortune of being paired with a useless crybaby like me. I picked up the bucket, suppressing the anxiety and pity rising in my chest. [This time, you can’t just splash a little, and you can’t miss. Aim for his face and dump the whole thing on him!] the System said excitedly. I gritted my teeth, extended my arms, and was about to throw the water when— Kael’s eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?” A wave of cold fury washed over me. I stumbled backward, tripped on the whip I’d left on the floor, and the entire bucket of ice-cold water sloshed all over me. SPLASH! My clothes clung to my skin, the cold seeping deep into my bones. Don’t cry. Don’t cry! I shivered violently, biting my lip to hold back a sob. The chains rattled as Kael instinctively tried to stand, only to be held fast by the ropes. His eyes were fixed on me. “Faye, what kind of game are you playing now?!” [You! You! Do you have butter on your feet? Why do you fall everywhere you go?!] the System raged. “Mr. System, I’m sorry,” I explained quickly. “My arms were just so sore, I couldn’t hold the bucket steady. I’m sorry.” [So what if he’s awake? Why are you scared? Just throw the water!] the System howled. “But it would get in his eyes,” I whispered. “The water isn’t clean. He could get an infection.” The System sighed in exasperation. [Fine, fine! Getting paired with a useless host like you is so annoying! Listen up. Repeat after me, word for word.] The System’s voice became a cold sneer. [Brother, after all, we were family once. You’ve been so kind to me over the years. How could I possibly let you go so easily?] Hugging my freezing body, I stood up and forced a malicious smile. “Brother, after all, we were family once. You’ve been so kind to me over the years. How could I possibly let you go so easily?” I didn’t realize that, to an outsider, my eyes—reddened from the cold and glistening with unshed tears—looked utterly heartbreaking. My voice was fragile, yet my face was stretched into a painful smile. [Huh… something about that doesn’t feel right,] the System muttered, confused. Kael, for his part, showed no signs of anger. Alarmingly, the cold fury in his eyes had vanished completely. He wasn’t even glaring anymore. “If you couldn’t bear to let me go,” he said, “why didn’t you come to see me off when I left?” [??? Are you insane?! How can you say something so disgusting?!] the System shrieked. [Who cares if she came to see you off! She’s your enemy!] I parroted the System. “Who cares if I came to see you off! I’m your enemy!” I had no idea how utterly bizarre that sounded coming from me. My voice was small and soft, turning the harsh words into something that sounded like a petulant, twisted form of affection. Kael actually smiled. [I didn’t tell you to say that! Take it back!] the System sputtered, equally stunned. How was I supposed to take back something I’d already said? The System’s scolding left me flustered. I looked at Kael miserably. “Just pretend you didn’t hear that last part.” [Forget it, forget it! Just grab the whip and hit him!] I quickly picked up the whip, my hand gripping the handle tightly. I had practiced for hours by myself so I wouldn’t accidentally hit myself. I stared at his bare chest. This time, I would get it right. 5 The thin whip cut through the air, wrapping around Kael’s side. CRACK! The sound was sharp and clear. A thin red welt appeared on his lower abdomen, slowly spreading into a wider mark as the pain set in. “Ngh…” he grunted softly, his eyes lifting to meet mine. [It’s working! Keep hitting him!] But I didn’t share the System’s excitement. I felt awful. The cellar was already cold, and I was soaked to the bone. It felt like my insides were freezing solid. A sudden, burning pain shot through my lungs, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Forcing myself to stay composed, I replied politely, “Yes, thank you for your help, Mr. System.” The next time the whip fell, my aim was off. The tip of it flicked against the inside of his thigh. Kael’s eyebrows shot up, a dark fire igniting in the depths of his eyes. “…Careful…” I whispered to the System, “Mr. System, does this count as him being angry?” But the System asked, [What’s wrong with you? Your voice sounds strange.] I shook my head, trying to sound strong. “It’s nothing, just a little tired. I can finish the mission.” My vision was starting to blur, seeing double. I straightened up with a great effort and delivered my final line to Kael. “Brother, for the rest of your life, you are fit for only one thing: to be my dog.” I couldn’t hear if he responded. I swayed on my feet, took a few delirious steps, and collapsed onto his lap. Huh? Where does he keep that dagger? I didn’t see it before, but I can feel it again now. That was my last thought before I fainted.

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For five years, I belonged to Donovan Black. The pretty thing he kept in a gilded cage. In my first life, I made the mistake of listening to the whispers of other girls like me. I let myself believe that his affection was turning into love, and I did everything I could to make him propose. I became a nightmare when Camilla Rhodes, the one who always had a hold on him, came back to the States. I picked fights, I made scenes. In the end, I succeeded only in getting myself killed. Two bodies in one grave, me and our unborn child. Not long after I was gone, Donovan and Camilla had the wedding of the decade. I became a cautionary tale, a punchline about the girl who dreamed too big. When I woke up, I was back in the bed where I first asked Donovan if he loved me. The man beside me, his breathing still evening out from our lovemaking, turned his head on the pillow. “What did you say?” The first time around, I hadn’t noticed the frost in his tone. I’d just snuggled deeper into his arms and asked if he could spend more time with me. Hearing those words again, a flash of memory seared through my mind: Donovan’s face at my cremation, the look of a man relieved to finally be rid of a piece of trash. I slapped my own mouth twice, lightly, and manufactured a blush. “Oh my god, I’m so blissed out I’m not even making sense,” I murmured. “I meant to ask if you loved the soup I made tonight. If you did, I can make it again tomorrow.” 1. Shock flickered in Donovan’s eyes. He clearly wasn’t expecting a post-coital performance review from me, the woman who usually went shy and silent in these moments. But it was that very boldness, those unexpected words, that made a man as meticulous as Donovan overlook the question I had actually asked. In my first life, when I’d asked him to spend more time with me, he’d mistaken it for the sweet nothings of a woman high on passion. So, he’d casually replied, “Alright. From now on, I’ll take you wherever I go.” That one simple sentence was all it took to fertilize the ambition in my heart. It made me believe, with every fiber of my being, that Donovan Black loved me too; he just hadn’t realized it yet. “The soup was good,” Donovan’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “It settled my stomach.” As his words registered, I instinctively grabbed a silk robe, covering myself. I told him I was heading to the kitchen to prep for the next day’s breakfast. The moment I was out of his line of sight, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. While I busied myself in the vast, stainless-steel kitchen, I started to sort through the chaotic fragments in my mind. I couldn’t remember why I’d been given a second chance, only that it was a precious, fragile thing. And one thought was branded onto my soul, a mantra I couldn’t escape: Don’t be a fool for love. Don’t you ever fall for a man again. Aside from making myself beautiful and making good food, I didn’t have many talents. I wasn’t particularly sharp; I believed whatever anyone told me. That was my fatal flaw. It was because of that flaw that, in my past life, I let the goading from other women in my position make me forget my place. I became more and more demanding, more and more of a problem. Only after my death did I learn the truth about Tiffany, the so-called friend whose real name I never even knew. She had approached me with an agenda from the very beginning. Her benefactor, a man named Mr. Sterling, did business with Donovan. We met at a gallery opening, a brief, forgettable encounter for me. But Mr. Sterling remembered me. He mentioned to Tiffany, more than once, how striking I was. And for that, she hated me. Then there was Camilla Rhodes. The woman who had gone abroad to study long before I ever met Donovan. She heard about me from her friends back home. The idea of Donovan keeping me around for so many years infuriated her, but she considered it beneath herself to deal with me directly. So, after doing a little digging into my personality—my naivete, my insecurities—she found Tiffany. She paid Tiffany to “teach” me how to win more of Donovan’s affection. Every piece of advice Tiffany gave me was perfectly designed to make Donovan slowly, but surely, grow tired of me. And so, that winter, just a few months later—on my way to tell Donovan that I was pregnant and demand he make me his wife—I was hit by a speeding truck. I died on impact. After my death, Tiffany, who had already been cast aside by Mr. Sterling, took the massive “thank you” payment I’d given her and went back to her hometown to get married. Camilla, who had orchestrated everything from a distance, finally won Donovan’s heart for good. They had a son and a daughter. And me? I was the one who got greedy because I just wanted to be loved. In the end, I went to my grave without ever hearing Donovan Black say he even liked me. Playing the whole tragedy back in my mind, I took a deep, painful breath and resolved to do my job, serve my time, and wait for the day Donovan finally let me go. Afraid I might forget, that I might still harbor some foolish hope for him, I found the old notebook I used for recipes. I flipped to the last page and started to write. August 27th: Never forget the pain of your soul burning. It’s not shameful to be starved for love, but don’t lose your life over scraps from someone else’s table. … Despite going to bed late, I was up at 5:30 the next morning. I worked without a break, preparing a full breakfast spread. Just as Donovan came downstairs, showered and dressed, I was placing a pot of slow-simmered herbal broth on the table. He stared at the array of dishes covering half the dining table, a dozen small plates filled with everything from omelets to fresh pastries. He was silent for a few seconds before he asked, “Alright, what do you want?” Cooking was my primary tool for pleasing him, but in five years, I’d almost exclusively made him dinner. Never before had I sacrificed my beauty sleep just to ensure he had a good meal before leaving for the office. 2. Worried the smell of cooking oil clung to me, I stood a careful distance away from him. “You mentioned before that I should find something to do, to keep me from embarrassing you when I’m out, right?” I watched his expression for any change. Seeing none, I continued, “Since you think my cooking is decent, what if I opened a restaurant? It’s really the only skill I have that’s worth anything.” I didn’t want to waste this second chance. I wanted to build something for myself, to prepare for a life after Donovan. He began to eat his breakfast, quietly, not saying a word. I took the hint and didn’t press him. Donovan was a better man than the ones my peers were with, but he had the same flaw most of them did: a severe case of male chauvinism. Once, I was at a spa with another girl and missed his text. He froze my credit cards and confined me to the penthouse for three days as punishment for ignoring him. Knowing him as I did, I knew he wouldn’t accept me doing anything that wasn’t under his control. I couldn’t just start a business without his permission. That’s why I’d woken up at dawn, why I’d cooked this feast. It was all a calculated plea for his approval to go out and make my own money. Donovan was generous, and in this new life, I hadn’t asked him for anything yet. If he agreed to the restaurant, his support would come with funding and connections. That was my real goal. Even though I knew my death in the last life was my own doing, Donovan was the catalyst. He was the one who had warped me into someone I wasn’t. His pockets were deep. Making him shoulder some of the responsibility for my early demise didn’t seem unreasonable, did it? Fleecing him for a little startup capital while I was still under his roof… surely that was understandable. Donovan left for work without giving any opinion on my “sudden” ambition. I wasn’t worried. Camilla wasn’t due back for another month. If once didn’t work, I’d just have to try again. After he left, I went out too. First, I went to the bank to check the balance of the “salary” I’d accumulated from him over the years. Then I split the money, seventy-thirty. The larger portion went into a new, separate account. The rest I designated as my operating capital. I hadn’t gotten any smarter. But my past life had taught me one thing: trust no one. I was eighty percent sure Donovan would help me, but you can never account for that last twenty percent. From the bank, I went to a restaurant I used to frequent. In the past, I’d always gone to try their new dishes. Today, I studied the prices on the menu, the decor, the thousand little details most customers overlook. The owner recognized me. Seeing me sitting alone for so long, he came over to say hello. Thinking of all the mistakes I might make without Donovan’s help, I summoned my courage and started asking him for advice, to “learn from the master.” He was surprisingly kind, not at all bothered that I was trying to steal his secrets. He shared story after story of the pitfalls he’d encountered since opening his own place. I went home with a phone that had died from taking so many notes. When I plugged it in, a message popped up on the screen, identical to the one from my last life: Nancy, how did it go? Did you ask Mr. Black if he loves you like I told you to? Nancy. That was the name he’d given me. I didn’t reply. I just deleted Tiffany’s contact and blocked her number. Truthfully, I didn’t hate her that much. She was instrumental in my early death, yes, but ultimately, it was my own stupidity that sealed my fate. If I had been just a little bit smarter, a little less easily swayed by others, my life wouldn’t have ended that way. Besides, I vaguely remembered a voice, just before I came back, whispering to me: Everything has a cause and effect. Don’t seek revenge. Those who harmed you will face their own consequences. Don’t waste the precious chance you’ve been given on a moment’s satisfaction. Because of that, my heart had remained peaceful. I kept reminding myself: I came back to live a long, full life for myself. No one was going to derail that plan. 3. When Donovan came home that evening, he handed me a folder. I froze when I saw the title on the first page: Restaurant Development Proposal. “I spoke to a few friends in the restaurant business at lunch. This is a plan based on their collective experience,” he said. “It’s rare for you to want something like this. Study it. If you have any questions, you can come to me anytime.” I clutched the folder and nodded dumbly. Mumbling an excuse about wanting to read it right away, I hurried back to the bedroom. I found my recipe notebook hidden under the bed, flipped to the back, and wrote under yesterday’s entry: August 28th: So he’s shown you kindness. That means the person you once loved had some good in him. But that’s all. There are a million other sights to see, a million other meals to taste. Learn to love yourself. Put yourself first. Closing the notebook, I felt the frantic beating of my heart finally begin to slow. The reason I’d fallen for Tiffany’s lies so easily in my last life was simple: I had already fallen in love with Donovan long before. Falling for your benefactor is the cardinal sin in our line of work. But I couldn’t control it. To keep him from finding out and getting rid of me, I had to suppress it, to act indifferent. But emotions are like that; the more you push them down, the more powerfully they spring back. So when someone told me that Donovan treated me differently than other women, that he might actually have feelings for me, I gambled everything. I dropped the mask and never put it back on. By the time I opened the proposal, my heart was completely calm. Combining the advice from the restaurant owner with the detailed contents of Donovan’s plan, a clear vision for my restaurant began to form in my mind. After noting down a few points I didn’t understand, I went to find Donovan in his study to have them clarified. Seeing that I had genuine questions, he raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re serious about this? I’m impressed by the effort.” I just smiled and didn’t say anything, diligently taking notes as he explained the complexities of payroll and supply chains. “Do you have any thoughts on the location and concept for the restaurant?” he asked as I was about to leave. After a moment’s thought, I decided to share what I’d learned from the restaurant owner. “There’s a coffee shop on Waverly Place that’s up for sale, only been open for three months. It’s right near a major shopping street and two universities. The foot traffic is incredible. I was planning to go look at it tomorrow. If it checks out, I want to open my restaurant there.” Donovan looked at me, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “You seem to be in a hurry.” I was. The process from site selection to design and renovation was a long one. If I went through the entire process from scratch, my restaurant wouldn’t be open by the end of the year. I’d heard about this coffee shop. The decor was modern and appealed to a younger crowd, perfectly matching my target demographic. If the owner’s family hadn’t run into a sudden financial crisis, they wouldn’t be selling so quickly. If I could take over the lease, I would only need to change the layout, which would save an enormous amount of time. I needed to get as much done as possible before Camilla came back. That way, even if Donovan’s help disappeared, I’d be in a much better position. But obviously, I couldn’t tell him that. “It’s not easy to find a space that fits on every level,” I said. “When you find one, you have to act fast.” Hearing this, Donovan nodded in agreement. “I’ll have Arthur go with you tomorrow. If you like it, we’ll lock it down. Don’t worry about the price. It’s not often you ask for anything. Consider the shop a gift from me.” I certainly wasn’t going to refuse. Arthur was incredibly competent. With his help, everything from price negotiation to signing the contracts was done in half a day. From that moment on, I poured nearly every ounce of my energy into my restaurant. Though I was happy with the coffee shop’s existing design, some changes were necessary to meet the needs of a full-service restaurant. Arthur recommended a rising-star interior designer, and by the time she had the new blueprints ready, the construction crew Arthur had sourced was already on standby. I was leaving before dawn and coming home long after dark. For over two weeks, I barely exchanged more than a few words with Donovan. 4. One evening, I walked in to find Donovan, who usually sequestered himself in his study, sitting on the living room sofa watching television. He stood up, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, took my bag from my shoulder, and asked how the restaurant preparations were going. I was so exhausted I didn’t even register what he’d done. It wasn’t until I was in the shower that it hit me: the easy way he’d greeted me, the casual conversation… it was all eerily similar to how a normal husband and wife might interact. After my shower, while Donovan was on the phone on the terrace, I quickly found my recipe book. I’d been running on fumes for weeks, usually falling into bed the moment I got home. On the rare nights when a thought of Donovan stirred something in me, I’d immediately jot down a warning to myself in my phone’s notes app. I took a moment now to transcribe those frantic notes into the notebook. Then I added today’s entry: September 16th: Less than two weeks left until everything goes back to the way it was. Remember who you are. Stop dreaming. Work harder. Don’t let these small moments get to you. I shoved the notebook back into its hiding place and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the moon outside the window. I knew this was a foolish way to guard my heart. But it was the only way I could think of. A slow, painful desensitization until the day finally came. “Why aren’t you in bed? What’s on your mind?” Donovan’s voice startled me. I quickly pulled myself together. “Nothing. The renovations are moving fast. I was just thinking if there were any details I might have overlooked.” He nodded without comment. After he lay down, he spoke suddenly into the quiet room. “When I came home today, the housekeeper mentioned that Sterling’s girl has been coming by to see you. When did you two get so close?” Hearing his dismissive name for Tiffany, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. I subtly rubbed the spot over my heart. “We’re not close,” I said, feigning indifference. “She started saying all this weird stuff, so I blocked her. I have no idea why she keeps showing up.” Donovan made a soft “hmm” sound. “She’s probably trying to get close to you on Sterling’s orders. Ignoring her is the right move. Stay away from people like that.” He rolled over and went to sleep. But I lay awake for a long time, the words “people like that” echoing in my head. For the next week or so, I made a point to leave earlier than Donovan and come home later, minimizing our contact. During that time, I heard from Arthur that Donovan had unilaterally terminated his partnership with Mr. Sterling. A few days later, I saw chatter in a group chat with some of the other girls. Tiffany had been confronted by Mr. Sterling’s wife. She was beaten, stripped naked, and thrown into the park across from her apartment. They said she’d lost her mind by the time someone found her. Seeing her fate, so drastically different from the last time, made my chest feel tight. A chill ran down my spine. The day Camilla Rhodes flew back into the country, one of the girls tagged me in the group chat: Nancy, the real one’s back. You better watch your step. Don’t end up like Tiffany. I didn’t reply. I just left the group. On this day in my last life, Donovan went to the airport to pick Camilla up and didn’t come home all night. So I wasn’t in any hurry to get back. I ordered takeout, sat in my nearly finished restaurant, and drank until I was pleasantly drunk. It was just before midnight when I finally stood outside the penthouse door. The moment I stepped inside, the alcohol buzz vanished. There, on the sofa, was the man who was supposed to be with Camilla. He was leaning back with his eyes closed, and in his hand was my recipe notebook. After a long, heavy silence, Donovan opened his eyes. His gaze was dark and intense as he stared at me. He held up the notebook. “Come here,” he said, his face a mask of neutrality. “We need to talk.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384816”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel