Category: English

A picture surfaced of my girlfriend of five years, award-winning actress Ava Stone, spending the night with a mysterious man. To protect this man, an actor named Ethan Reed, she posted an intimate photo of them on her social media, officially confirming their relationship. Her caption read: “Waiting for the leaves to fall, for the winter wind, for the autumn fireworks, and for a better us. From start to finish, I have only ever loved one person.” I stared at the photo, at the man whose face was a near-perfect mirror of my own, and a chill spread through me, cold and absolute. All these years, I had been nothing but a stand-in. Ava called me almost immediately. “Ethan just returned to the country; we can’t let his reputation take a hit,” she explained, her voice rushed. “This is just for work, a PR move. Don’t take it seriously.” I replied, my own voice flat, “It’s fine. I understand.” My lack of reaction seemed to confuse her. “You’re not jealous today?” she asked, a note of suspicion in her tone. … Less than thirty minutes after she hung up, Ava was home. I expected her to continue her explanation, but she didn’t. She acted as if nothing had happened, handing me a beautifully wrapped gift. “See if you like it. I picked it out especially for you.” It was a Patek Philippe watch. Expensive. I’d heard of the brand. She often brought me small gifts when she came home, but never anything like this. Perhaps she knew this time was different. Before, a piece of cake, a hug, even just a smile was enough to soothe me. But today, not even a million-dollar watch could erase the blankness from my face. I just said a quiet, “Thank you.” A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. She could sense something was wrong, deeply wrong. But she didn’t dare bring up the announcement with Ethan—her guilty conscience wouldn’t let her. Instead, she changed the subject. “Liam, I’m starving. Could you make me some of your chicken noodle soup with wontons?” The wontons were pre-made, but the chicken broth had to be simmered for hours. Any other time, the mere mention of her craving would have sent me rushing to the kitchen, happy to cook for her, no matter how much trouble it was. But today, I felt nothing. No desire to please, no desire to cook. “There’s bread in the fridge. You can have that if you’re hungry.” “Liam!” My detached tone finally broke her composure. “Can you stop being so childish?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea how many appearances I canceled just to come home and deal with you? Can’t you be more understanding about my job?” “No,” I cut her off. I looked up, my eyes as still and dark as a midnight lake. “Ava, let’s break up.” Even after days of mentally preparing for this, the words still felt like a punch to the gut. A dull ache spread through my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I forced them out. This ridiculous, secret relationship had gone on for five years. It was over. We were over. I couldn’t stand waiting for her in this empty apartment anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing her name linked with other men in the tabloids. I couldn’t stand loving her anymore. I was tired. At the word “breakup,” Ava’s face went white. A look of pure, unadulterated shock and panic crossed her features. Before she could say anything, I opened the door and walked out. Since getting together with Ava, I’d become a recluse, my life revolving around her schedule. I hadn’t seen my friends in ages. So, when an invitation came, I went. After a few rounds of drinks, they noticed my distraction. I told them we’d broken up. “Broken up? When did you even start dating someone? How did you meet?” The rapid-fire questions threw me back to a summer in middle school, the summer I met Ava. I was being bullied for getting the highest grades in the school. They’d locked me in a bathroom stall. That’s where I found her, just as trapped and miserable as I was. In that moment, our shared fate seemed to bind us together. After middle school, she moved to another city with her divorced mother, but we never lost touch. Five years ago, after I graduated from college, I moved to her city to be with her, to support her career. That’s when we finally became a couple. But she knew. She knew. Ethan Reed was the one who bullied me back then. The rowdy chatter of my friends pulled me back to the present. I pointed a lazy finger at a poster on the wall. “That’s her,” I said with a bitter laugh. “My girlfriend of five years.” The poster was an ad for Ava and Ethan’s new movie. She’d fought to get him the leading role. They were pressed close together, their eyes locked in a smoldering gaze. They looked perfect. My friends roared with laughter. They thought I was drunk and joking. “You’ve had too much to drink, man. That’s Ava Stone, the movie star. No way she’s your girlfriend!” The laughter grated on my ears. The alcohol and the poster made the world feel blurry and unreal. I didn’t bother explaining. I just tipped my head back and drained my glass. The burn of the liquor was a welcome distraction, a mix of sorrow and resignation. As I lowered my head, the door to our private room opened. Even with the baseball cap pulled low, the sunglasses, and the mask, I recognized Ava instantly. She gave a small nod to the stunned room, a silent greeting, and then pulled up a chair, sitting down beside me. With everyone but me, she had this natural, icy aloofness. “What are you doing here?” My voice was polite but distant, creating a chasm between us. She frowned, but her tone was gentle. “I have some free time. I wanted to spend it with you.” My face remained cold. “You don’t have to do this. We’re breaking up.” “I don’t agree to the breakup,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You’re just jealous. You want us to go public, right? Fine. I’ll give you what you want.” She stood up, picked up my glass, and her voice regained its usual confident, almost arrogant, tone. “Hello, everyone. I’m Liam’s girlfriend.” “We’ve had to keep our relationship quiet because of my work. I hope you can understand.” As my friends stared in disbelief, she raised the glass to her lips. Before it could touch them, I snatched it from her hand. “That’s enough, Ava.” “We’re already broken up.” The glass hit the table with a thud, rolled twice, and came to a stop. Ignoring the tears welling in her eyes, I turned and walked out. Drunk and stumbling, I ran out into the dark street. The night, thick with the smell of alcohol, seemed to swallow me whole. My thoughts were a mess. I kept seeing Ava, glass in hand, and the tightness in my chest returned, making it hard to breathe. Ava never drank. She hated the taste of alcohol. But I remembered seeing a video, leaked by the paparazzi. She was drunk, leaning heavily against Ethan Reed, raising her glass to a table of producers. “Please, just give Ethan a chance,” she was slurring. “He’ll do a great job.” For Ethan, she, who never touched a drop, had downed three straight shots of hard liquor. She ended the night passed out in his arms. That night was my birthday. I waited for her all night, a cake sitting uneaten on the table. She never came home. She called later, her excuse ready. “It was the wrap party for the new movie. All the producers and directors were there. I couldn’t get away. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” But Ava, I don’t need you to make it up to me anymore. The moment I saw her in Ethan’s arms, five years of love shattered. My heart felt like it had turned to ash. Ava chased after me. “Liam, don’t be angry. It’s just a professional relationship, I swear…” she pleaded, her voice carrying to my friends who had followed us out. I just replied flatly, “I’m not angry. It has nothing to do with me anymore.” “Stop denying it, Liam. You’re only doing this because you’re jealous of Ethan.” “I’ve explained it a thousand times, those rumors are part of my job. If it bothers you that much, I’ll go clear things up right now. Just please, don’t break up with me.” She kept talking, always using her career as an excuse. She would never admit that her heart had ever strayed. Suddenly, I found her desperate, lie-filled pleading utterly pathetic. I shook her hand off, hailed a cab, and left without looking back. I had just gotten home when I received a termination notice from my company’s HR. “Liam, it was a decision from the top. There was nothing I could do.” The HR rep sounded apologetic. “I heard someone’s pulling strings to get you out. Did you piss someone off?” I’ve always been an easy-going person. I don’t make enemies. But if the company was going to fire me over something like this, so be it. I didn’t rely on that paycheck anyway. As soon as I hung up, an unknown number called. I answered. A man’s voice sneered, “How does it feel to be fired, Liam?” I recognized it immediately. Ethan Reed. So, he was the one behind this. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. A wave of pain and hatred washed over me. “You’re a worthless leech who can’t even hold down a minimum wage job. What right do you have to be with Ava? I suggest you crawl back into whatever hole you came from.” “As long as I’m around, you’ll never find another job in this city. I guarantee it. Hahaha.” His laugh was manic, a stark contrast to the gentle, sophisticated image he projected on screen. He sounded like a demon from hell. Just like he did in middle school. No matter what mask he wore, he was still disgusting. I let out a cold snort, cutting off his grating laughter. “Is that so? Then you’re going to lose.” This was a bet Ethan was destined to lose, spectacularly. For me, a nine-to-five job was just a way to pass the time. It didn’t matter if I had one or not. Back in college, I wrote a novel under a pseudonym. A famous director bought the film rights, and that was the start of my screenwriting career. Several of the biggest hit TV shows in recent years were from my pen. At my request, my real name was always kept hidden, replaced by the pen name ‘Serenity.’ Other than a few top directors I worked with, no one knew my true identity. Not even Ava. The next day, I went to the office to finalize my departure. When I got to my desk, it was empty. All my personal belongings were gone. Then I saw them, piled in the trash can next to my desk. I didn’t need to guess who did it. A cold smile touched my lips. I grabbed a nearby vase and strode toward the director’s office. Ignoring the shocked gasps of my colleagues, I kicked the door open and smashed the vase at the director’s feet. He slammed his hands on his desk and shot to his feet, enraged. “Liam, don’t push it!” “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for crossing Ethan Reed. He made it clear he doesn’t want to see you here. Our hands are tied.” The company had just signed Ethan as the face of their new product. Of course, they wouldn’t risk offending him over a low-level employee like me. I didn’t bother arguing. It was their loss. Smashing the vase had vented most of my anger. As I turned to leave, the director’s secretary rushed in. “Sir, Ava Stone’s agent just called. She’s interested in being the spokesperson for the new product, but she has one condition…” The secretary gave me a complicated look. The director’s eyes lit up. “Whatever it is, we’ll meet it. At any cost.” An opportunity to work with a star of Ava’s caliber was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. “Her only condition,” the secretary said, her voice barely a whisper, “is that her boyfriend, Liam, be put in charge of her entire endorsement campaign.” The room fell silent. Everyone stared. Even I was momentarily stunned. When we first got together, Ava had been adamant about keeping our relationship a secret. We were never to be seen together in public. In five years, we were never seen together. My family, my friends, no one knew she existed. She never came to any of my social gatherings. Last year, when my grandmother was dying, her last wish was to meet my girlfriend. I called Ava, crying, begging her to come, just for a few minutes. Even though she could hear the sobs in my voice, she hesitated for only a second before refusing. “Liam, you know my situation. I can’t…” After that, I never asked again. I never thought she would use her influence, as my girlfriend, to help me with my job. But I didn’t need it anymore. Ava’s star power dwarfed Ethan’s. Hearing her condition, the director’s sycophantic smile returned. “Liam, my boy! Why didn’t you tell me you had this connection?” “What happened before was my mistake. Don’t hold it against me. How about this? I’ll make you the project lead for this campaign, effective immediately. And a triple bonus at the end of the year.” I just looked at him, my face a mask of indifference, and threw my ID badge on his desk. “Sorry. I quit.” I turned and walked away, leaving a room full of stunned colleagues in my wake. The main office was already buzzing. As soon as I stepped out, my coworkers swarmed me. “Dude, Liam, you’ve been holding out on us! Ava Stone is your girlfriend?” “She just updated her social media! She cleared up the rumors with Ethan Reed and announced she’s in a relationship with you! And… she’s on her way here, in a wedding dress, to propose!” Before I could process what they were saying, someone shoved a phone into my hand. On the screen, Ava was dressed in a stunning white gown, her makeup elegant and cool. She stared into the camera, her deep eyes seeming to pierce through the screen and lock with mine. “Liam,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “Are you ready to marry me?” Half an hour ago, Ava had posted a clarification. She revealed our five-year secret relationship. She posted candid photos of me cooking, a few snapshots from our life together. In a long, heartfelt caption, she explained that the ‘relationship’ with Ethan was just a joke, the result of a lost bet. She said she had only ever had one boyfriend. Me. My breath caught in my throat. My heart was a tangled mess of emotions. Ethan had immediately commented on her post: “Big sis Ava is a woman of her word! It was all a misunderstanding. Hope you’re not mad, bro-in-law!” The comments section exploded. Fans were furious, accusing Ava of toying with their emotions. Many still insisted that she and Ethan were a better match. Only a few offered their congratulations. I didn’t know how Ava had convinced Ethan to play along with this charade, but while the rest of the world was swooning, I was painfully sober. I had once dreamed of this day, of being able to hold her hand in public, to be acknowledged. But now, all I felt was a hollow emptiness, the quiet calm that follows a storm of disappointment. Within minutes, the story of a top actress proposing to her civilian boyfriend went viral, hitting number one on every trending list. Reporters and bloggers started live-streaming, following Ava as she, holding a bouquet, made her way to my office. Her fans had already gathered outside, clearing a path for her. The live stream crashed from the sheer volume of viewers. Before I could fully grasp the situation, a roar of excitement came from outside. Ava was here. She pushed open the doors, breathless, a bouquet in her arms. Her eyes found mine across the crowded room, and a smile touched her lips. The wedding dress was beautiful, accentuating her every curve. Even with her hair slightly disheveled and her face beaded with sweat, she was breathtaking. The media scrum followed her in. In an instant, every camera, every eye in the room was on me. Ava walked slowly toward me, her eyes shining like stars. She held out the flowers. “Liam,” she asked softly, “will you marry me?” Despite her calm demeanor, I could hear the slight tremor in her voice. The room erupted. Everyone was looking at me with envy. “Wow, being proposed to by a huge star in public… he’s so lucky.” “He’s just a regular guy. What did he do to deserve her?” As the whispers of envy swirled around me, my mind raced through the past five years. All the intense love I once felt had been slowly eroded by one disappointment after another. In that moment, I was terrifyingly clear-headed. Sensing my hesitation, people started clapping and chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” But under the expectant gaze of the entire nation, I calmly shook my head. “I’m sorry. I won’t.”

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The second month my boyfriend was missing, I saw him on the street. He was holding court with his friends, that familiar arrogance draped over him like a designer jacket. “Missing? Of course, I’m not missing,” he said, a smirk in his voice. “My girlfriend’s just way too clingy. Time to teach her a lesson.” Then he dropped the line that stopped my heart. “I’ve got Owen covering for me. She doesn’t suspect a thing.” Owen. His best friend. I pretended I heard nothing. Later that night, back in my apartment, a man wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Any news about him today?” Owen asked, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. “No,” I whispered, turning to kiss him, my voice full of manufactured sorrow. “Nothing.” “I think he might really be gone.” 1 It was the second month of Caleb’s disappearance when I saw him. He was with his crew, looking just as infuriatingly self-assured as ever. “Caleb, man,” one of his friends said, clapping him on the back. “This whole ‘going missing’ act… we barely get to see you either.” “Can’t be helped,” Caleb replied, his tone lazy and careless. “Claire was getting way too possessive, always needing to know where I was. Had to teach her a lesson.” “How’d you even come up with a plan like that?” “That was all me,” a girl next to him chirped, her eyebrows raised in triumph. “You think he has the brains for a move this brilliant? Please.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re the genius,” Caleb said, his smile indulgent as he looked at her. I knew her. Chloe. The only girl in Caleb’s tight-knit circle of friends. “But isn’t this a little extreme?” someone else asked. “You think Claire won’t get suspicious?” “Nah, I’ve got Owen running interference for me. It’s solid.” A wave of understanding passed through the group. “Oh, right. With Owen vouching for the story, who’d ever doubt it?” “Mr. Dependable himself.” Chloe let out a dismissive little scoff. “It’s not about Owen. It’s because Claire is an idiot.” I waited for Caleb to defend me. For a flicker of protest. Instead, he leaned in and murmured to Chloe, “It’s true. She’s got nothing on you.” The rest of the group started hooting and catcalling, as if this was a familiar routine. “Dude, just get with Chloe already and stop messing around with other girls.” “Nah, I don’t eat where I shit,” Caleb shot back. “Get lost,” Chloe retorted. “As if I’d ever want you.” They traded insults like playing cards, but under the table, their legs were brushing against each other in a lazy, intimate rhythm. Finally, as they were winding down, someone asked the question that was burning in my own mind. “You can’t stay ‘missing’ forever, man. When are you planning on going back?” Caleb’s smile was pure confidence. “I’ll wait,” he said. “I’ll go back when Claire has completely lost her mind looking for me.” 2 I was on my way to the police station to finally file a missing person’s report. I changed my mind. Instead, I went to the grocery store and bought all my favorite snacks. Then I treated myself to a long, luxurious afternoon at a spa. It was dark by the time I got home. The apartment was unlit, and I figured Owen had already left. I had just slipped off my shoes when a pair of arms slid around my waist from behind, pulling me against a hard chest. My body went rigid for a second. “Have you been drinking?” Owen didn’t answer directly. “Where were you today? You didn’t answer my calls.” “Sorry, I didn’t check my phone.” “Any word on Caleb?” “No,” I sighed, letting my voice fill with exhaustion. “Nothing.” He held me tighter, his breath warm on my neck. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t pushed him to go on that stupid hike, he wouldn’t be gone.” He sounded genuinely remorseful. He would have been convincing, too—if the warm tip of his tongue hadn’t grazed my earlobe. Owen was one of Caleb’s best friends. After Caleb vanished, they had their roles perfectly cast. Caleb was the victim, hidden in the shadows. Owen was playing the part of the guilt-ridden friend. But Caleb, it seemed, had no idea just how… dedicated his friend was to the role. His method of repentance was… unique. 3 Owen was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, from a family whose wealth and influence dwarfed Caleb’s. To the outside world, he was cool and aloof, almost untouchable. That’s how I’d always seen him, too. In all the time I’d been with Caleb, Owen and I had barely exchanged more than a few sentences. After college, I landed a job at a company that, by sheer coincidence, was one of his family’s many assets. That made him my boss’s boss’s boss, or something like that. The distance between us felt even greater. It was only a month ago, when the news of Caleb’s “disappearance” hit, that we got closer. I was a wreck, and Owen, as the one who had organized the hiking trip, was consumed with guilt. He insisted on taking care of me in Caleb’s absence. But his care was… meticulous. He cooked all my meals, personally delivering them to me. It made me deeply uncomfortable. “Owen, you can’t blame yourself,” I’d told him. “Caleb loves hiking. He was planning on climbing that mountain anyway, with or without you. His parents don’t blame you, and neither do I. You should get back to your own life. You really don’t have to—hey, put that down!” I lunged across the room, snatching my lingerie from his hands. “I can wash these myself!” His expression was utterly serious. “I get things cleaner. Are you sure?” “Positive!” I was so flustered at the time that I didn’t notice him hiding his hand behind his back, rubbing his fingertips together in disappointment. The moment I realized the full extent of Owen’s other side came late one night. I got up to use the bathroom and found he was still in my apartment, asleep in the guest room. I was about to ask him why he hadn’t left when I peeked through the cracked door. He was shirtless, his back lean and muscled in the dim light. In one hand, he was holding my black lace camisole. His other hand was obscured by a nightstand. Under the soft, yellow light, the muscles in his back were pulled taut, the veins on his forearm standing out. He was completely still. The sight was so shocking, a small gasp escaped my lips. Owen’s head snapped around. The instant his eyes met mine, he tilted his head back, a low, guttural sound vibrating in his throat. 4 I had discovered Owen’s secret. And just like that, I was in his trap. I knew I should have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have allowed the hugs, the kisses. But I couldn’t stop myself. Maybe it was because when I was crying my eyes out for Caleb, Owen was the only one there, a silent, steady presence by my side. But there was a bigger reason. For weeks, I’d suspected Caleb’s disappearance was a sham. What kind of parents learn their son is missing and not only refuse to file a police report, but actively stop me from doing it? What kind of friends lose one of their own and just keep partying, living it up as if nothing happened? All those nagging doubts were finally confirmed today. They had all conspired to put on a play for my benefit. And Owen was a star performer. Back in the present, he still wouldn’t let me go. “Did you make dinner? I’m starving,” I said, my voice tired. “It’s ready. All your favorites.” “Go heat it up.” “Okay.” Owen went immediately. The fact that I was ordering him around didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. After we ate, I slipped off the camisole I’d been wearing under my sweater and tossed it to him. “Wash this.” Owen froze. “You want me to?” “Yeah. I’m too tired tonight.” He looked like he’d just been given a prize. He cradled the piece of silk and disappeared into the bathroom. I knew he’d be in there for at least twenty minutes. With him out of the way, I picked up his phone from the coffee table. Just as I suspected, Caleb had a burner phone and a private group chat to stay in touch with everyone. In the early days, he’d actually asked about me. [Caleb]: How’s Claire doing? [Owen]: She cried a lot today. [Caleb]: Don’t worry about it. That’s just her, always crying about something. It’s so annoying. Thanks for keeping an eye on her. [Owen]: When are you going to end this? [Caleb]: ? [Owen]: If you don’t like her, just break up with her. You don’t have to play with her like this. [Caleb]: I do like her. I just hate how she’s always on my case, not even letting me go out for a drink at night. Chloe was right. A little scare will make her more obedient. Owen hadn’t replied to that. A notification dinged at the top of the screen from another group chat. The name caught my eye. Princess Chloe and Her Three Servants. 5 [Princess Chloe]: Fresh tea, everyone! One of Claire’s coworkers saw her crying at the office again yesterday! [Servant #1 Caleb]: I heard. [Princess Chloe]: See? My methods work. You owe me dinner for this, Caleb. This was the group chat for Caleb and Chloe’s little crew. There were four guys in their circle. Three of them were labeled as “servants.” The one who wasn’t was Owen. His name was just his name. I remembered Caleb telling me once that Owen had joined their group later than the others. I never knew why. I figured with his family’s money and connections, Caleb and the others probably made a point of recruiting him. Owen rarely spoke in the group chat. It was mostly Caleb fawning over Chloe. [Servant #1 Caleb]: Owe you dinner? How many dinners do I already owe you? I literally gave you a credit card. Claire used to flip out about that all the time. [Princess Chloe]: That’s what’s so funny. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Who the hell is she to get jealous? eyeroll.jpg She’s just jealous that I have so many guy friends. Caleb sent a sticker of a knight captioned “Protecting my princess.” [Caleb]: Alright, don’t be mad. From now on, you get first pick of any gift I buy for her. How’s that, Your Highness? [Chloe]: Hmph. That’s more like it. I felt sick. I scrolled up, reading through weeks of their exchanges. It was a constant stream of flirty banter. Every single time Caleb had been late for a date with me, it was because of Chloe. The night I was sick with a fever, alone in an urgent care clinic with an IV in my arm, he was with Chloe. Even the Valentine’s Day gift he’d given me… it was what was left over after Chloe had taken what she wanted. … A new message popped up. It was a private chat from Caleb to Owen. [Caleb]: Hey, something else I just remembered. I typed back in Owen’s clipped style: [?] [Caleb]: That night of Chloe’s birthday a couple of months ago, when I got wasted… I ended up crashing at her place. Make sure you never let that slip. [Caleb]: Remember, I was with you that whole night. Got it? My fingers moved slowly across the screen. [What happened between you two?] [Caleb]: Ugh, I thought we agreed not to talk about it? [Caleb]: Both of us are just pretending that night never happened. [Caleb]: It’s the only way we can still be friends. 6 Owen came out of the bathroom. The camisole was clean. His expression was calm, but the corners of his eyes were still flushed a faint red. I smiled at him. “Did you have fun in there?” Owen blinked, caught off guard. Even though I’d caught him, and even though we’d shared kisses and embraces, we had never taken the final step. “Did you,” I started, pointing at the camisole, “get anything on it?” “…I washed it all out. You can check.” “Don’t worry,” I said, my eyes raking over him. “I’m not judging.” He was six-foot-two, with a body that was close to perfect. By any physical measure, he was miles ahead of Caleb. “I might need you to wash a dress for me in a little bit,” I said softly. “What?” Owen looked down at me, confusion in his eyes. He didn’t understand what I meant. Not yet. I slipped out of my clothes, stood on my toes, and pressed my lips against his. “Owen,” I whispered against his mouth, my voice a breathy, tragic thing. “I think Caleb might really be gone for good.” I pulled back, my eyes wide and pleading. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 7 After that night, all I had to do was crook my finger, and Owen would come. We had a chemistry, a silent understanding that I’d never had with Caleb. Owen was attentive to my needs, my pleasure. The entire experience was on another level—more intense, more satisfying. Honestly, the two of them weren’t even in the same league, physically or otherwise. I almost regretted not taking this step sooner. Why had I wasted so much time on a ghost? Owen didn’t suspect a thing. I had deleted Caleb’s incriminating chat history from his phone. Whenever I got the chance, I’d borrow his phone to check the group chat. In the last few days, I had stopped my frantic search for Caleb, and he was starting to panic. He tagged everyone in the group. [Caleb]: What’s going on? Why did Claire suddenly stop looking for me? [Friend 1]: Chill, man. She’s probably just tired. Give her a break. [Caleb]: No way. She would never give up, no matter how tired she was! [Caleb]: Should I go back? [Princess Chloe]: HOLD ON! You have to keep this up a little longer. If you go back now, it was all for nothing. [Caleb]: I can’t. I have to go see her tomorrow. [Princess Chloe]: Are you an idiot, Caleb? I worked hard on this plan for you. You can’t just ignore it. What does that make me? [Princess Chloe]: I’m a woman, I know how her little mind works. She probably heard a rumor and is trying to bait you into showing yourself. [Princess Chloe]: Just watch. I’ll take care of her. Caleb went silent for a moment. In the end, he caved. [Caleb]: Fine. I’ll listen to you. But even so, he was still worried. That night, he called Owen. The call came through right as I had climbed on top of Owen, straddling him. The screen showed an unknown number. I answered it myself, holding the phone to Owen’s ear. “Hey, man,” Caleb’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Sorry to bother you, just… had to check in. What’s going on with Claire lately?” Owen, thinking I couldn’t hear, answered in a thick, distracted voice. “She’s… she’s fine.” “Whoa, dude, what’s with your voice? You got a girl over there?” “…How can you tell?” “I just know, man. You sound happy. Did I interrupt something? You gotta bring her out and introduce us sometime—” Caleb didn’t get to finish. I leaned in close to Owen’s ear and spoke, my voice clear and demanding. “Are you done? Pay attention.” The phone went dead silent. When Caleb spoke again, his voice was completely different. “Owen, who the hell is with you right now?!” 8 The question jolted Owen out of his haze of passion. He quickly fumbled for the volume, turning it down as his voice regained its usual cool composure. “Just a girl. You don’t know her.” “But… that sounded exactly like Claire.” “You heard wrong. Look, I gotta go. Don’t call again.” Owen hung up. He rolled over, pinning me beneath him, a playful glint in his eyes. “Now, where were we? I promise to be much more focused this time.” “Forget it. Aren’t you worried Caleb’s on his way over here right now?” Owen froze. I continued, “He’s probably been hiding out at that suburban house his parents own, right? That’s only a thirty-minute drive.” “You… you heard him?” “Owen, I’ve seen him. In person.” His expression shifted into something complicated. It took him a long moment to process it all. “So you’ve known all along,” he finally said. “That he wasn’t missing.” “Yes.” “And you’re not angry?” “I was. But I got over it pretty quickly. Getting angry at someone like him is just bad for my health.” The day I saw Caleb on the street, I hadn’t stormed over to confront him. I didn’t scream or demand to know why he had deceived me. What would have been the point? He was already rotten to the core. You can’t expect a dog to cough up anything but filth. I looked at Owen. “And you? Don’t you have anything you want to say?” Of everyone in their little crew, Owen was the only one who had voiced any objection to the ‘fake disappearance’ plan. I was genuinely curious what had made him agree to it in the end. “I owed him a favor,” Owen said, and it was like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He told me everything. “Caleb helped me out with something big a while back, and he used that to guilt me into this. But it doesn’t matter. I never should have lied to you. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I’m actually glad you were part of this.” “What do you mean?” I reached out, tilting his chin up so he was looking directly at me. A slow smile spread across my face. “How would you feel about betraying them and becoming my accomplice instead?”

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Three years after my best friend vanished, eighteen skeletons were found under Riverbend City’s streets. One victim had 180 stab wounds. In her hand was a folded note: “Don’t be afraid. I’ve just gone home. If you can’t hold on, you can come home, too.” The System’s alarm blared: [Affection meters for Family/Romance at 10%. Recommend immediate self-termination.] That night, I put on my wedding dress and sent my suicide note to the family group chat. My fiancé, comforting my adoptive sister, replied: “Insane?” My actress mother screamed calls: “Apologize to your sister!” My cop brother accused: “You’re tormenting Lucy by wearing that dress!” No one mentioned the suicide note. They didn’t know I wore the dress not to marry Dan, but to lure the serial killer who murdered my best friend—to escape this 25-year prison of a world. Only my lawyer brother guessed: “Vera, you figured it out. That body… it was Thea’s. Her note was for you, wasn’t it?” I didn’t reply. Clutching my best friend’s photo, I walked toward the hotel, plainclothes officers trailing behind. 1 I sat in the back of the wedding limo, the officers disguised as my bridesmaids and groomsmen looking at me with complicated expressions. “Are you absolutely sure about this? To draw out the ‘Bridal Butcher,’ you could die.” “I know Captain Shaw’s career is on the line with this case, but you don’t have to risk your life…” “This has nothing to do with Leo,” I said, my voice flat. They didn’t look convinced, assuming I was still angry with my brother. One of them offered, “I should give the Captain a call. A situation this dangerous, he should be here with you.” I watched him dial, a faint, bitter smile touching my lips. When the call connected, he started, “Captain, Vera is going in as bait for the Butcher today. It’s going to be extremely dangerous, you should…” He was cut off. The line went dead. A moment later, my own phone began to ring. I answered, my face a blank mask. Leo’s voice, raw with fury, exploded from the speaker. “I used to think you were just spoiled and selfish. I never thought you’d stoop this low, that you’d throw away all your morals just to force a wedding.” He was breathing heavily, his teeth clenched. “Not only are you pushing your own sister to the brink, but now you have the nerve to get my colleagues to lie for you, to say you’re acting as bait? You’re trying to make us feel sorry for you, to guilt us into letting you marry Dan, is that it?” “Vera, you’re just like your birth mother—a manipulative slut who only thinks about men! How dare you use a case this important for your own sick games!” His voice was a blade of ice. “Get over here right now and get on your knees and apologize to your sister! Tell everyone that you and Dan are over. That you’re a desperate homewrecker trying to steal your sister’s fiancé!” I listened, my hand tightening into a fist. When he compared me to my birth mother, the world went dark for a moment. He was the one who had read the case files. He had seen how she stood by and did nothing while my adoptive father, Mark, snuck into my room night after night. He knew that when I had screamed and fought and threatened to call the police, she had smashed a vase over my head, leaving a permanent scar above my eyebrow. Back then, his hands had trembled as he gently traced that scar, his eyes red. He had sworn to me in that same fierce tone, “Vera, I’ll make every single person who ever hurt you pay.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “My birth mother,” I said calmly, “is Lucy’s biological mother. According to you, she should be the one who inherited those traits. After all, she’s the one pretending to be crazy to steal her sister’s fiancé, isn’t she? And you’re all just helping her do it.” Silence on the other end, then the sound of Lucy’s frantic sobs. “Vera, I didn’t mean to… I’m sick, I don’t remember everything, I didn’t know about you and Dan…” “Mom, Leo, Dan… I didn’t know my illness would make Vera so unhappy. Maybe it would be better if I just died…” Then, my mother’s voice, sharp and furious. “That’s enough, Vera Shaw! If you have a shred of decency left, you’ll get over here and apologize this instant! If you don’t, we are done! We will disown you!” There was a commotion, and the phone was snatched away. It was Dan. His voice was cold, impatient. “Vera. Cancel the wedding. Get over here and kneel before Lucy and apologize. If you don’t, I’m calling off the engagement.” I lowered my eyes, my voice perfectly steady. “Alright.” Then I hung up. The officers in the car exchanged uneasy glances. No one suggested calling my brother again. The limo pulled up to the hotel. The moment I opened the door, a sickening stench hit me. Eggs, rotting fruit, and some unknown liquid splattered across my white dress. I stumbled backward, nearly falling as hands shoved me. “Slut! Stealing your own sister’s fiancé! And you have the nerve to force a wedding! Using the Butcher case to get sympathy? We’ll teach you a lesson today!” “Her own mother, a beloved actress, was driven to tears by her! A daughter like this should be beaten to death!” It hit me then. My mother had livestreamed our phone call. They were pulling my hair, kicking me, trying to force me to my knees. Someone was tearing at my dress, holding up a camera to capture my humiliation. “Apologize to your sister and your mother!” “And this dress! You think a filthy woman like you deserves to wear this? Rip it off her! That’ll teach her to steal another woman’s man!” My fingers were trembling with pain, but I lifted my head and shouted, “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” The crowd roared, but then my brother’s and mother’s bodyguards pushed through, forcing them back. Leo’s voice shook with rage. “You still dare to say you’ve done nothing wrong? I told you not to use your relationship with Dan to upset Lucy! Why did you insist on this farce of a wedding? Why are you so desperate for attention?” But as he got closer and saw me clearly, he froze. My dress was in tatters, barely covering me. My body was covered in bruises and scrapes, my forehead and skin smeared with the stinking filth they had thrown. He instinctively reached out, trying to wipe the mess off me. He turned to our mother, his voice low, struggling for control. “How could you livestream that call? How could you lead these fanatics right to her? What if Lucy had gotten dragged into this?” For a second, there was a flicker of pity in my mother’s eyes. But at the mention of Lucy, her face hardened. “She brought this on herself. She deserved it.” I took two steps back, avoiding his touch. “I didn’t come here to force a wedding,” I said evenly. “Whether Dan wants to break our engagement or marry Lucy has nothing to do with me. I’m here as bait. To catch the Butcher.” My mother’s face went pale. Before she could speak, my brother’s hand cracked across my face. His expression was a storm of fury and something else—panic. “I warned you not to use this case, a case involving the lives of dozens of girls, as a ploy to manipulate us!” He took a deep breath, his expression turning to ice once more. “You’re just like your friend Thea—no conscience, no morals!” “She betrayed my brother, took his money, and ran. And when she got scared of being caught, she planted that fake note on a real victim’s body, trying to fake her own death! I keep telling Liam that body isn’t Thea, but that idiot actually believed it. He’s been drinking himself into a stupor instead of working the case!” The crowd started jeering again. “Thea? Wasn’t she that gold-digger who ran off with all that money a few years back? I remember her nudes were all over those shady marketplace sites, selling for less than a dollar, hahaha!” “A bitch like that, obstructing a murder investigation. She should be dead.” My fists clenched, my heart feeling like it was being ripped apart. Three years ago, Thea had found proof that Lucy was faking her amnesia. But before she could give it to me, she disappeared. Right before she vanished, those photos of her were posted online. I remember her crying, begging my brother Liam, her fiancé, to help her sue. But Liam, the golden boy lawyer who had never lost a case, just sat there in court, silent, and let her lose. As they left the courthouse that day, he had dropped his charming facade and sneered, “This is what you get for messing with Lucy. This time it’s just photos. Next time, you’ll be on a black market auction block, a toy for some men in a third-world country.” That night, Thea cried in my arms for hours. The next day, she was gone. I spent three years searching for her, while Liam just scoffed whenever I brought it up. “She’s just playing games, trying to get me to chase her. Let her play. We’ll see how long she can hide.” Until… the bodies of the Bridal Butcher’s victims were found in that abandoned basement. And the System in my head finally delivered the news of Thea’s death. My Thea. Murdered by the Butcher. The System had also delivered my verdict. My decade-long quest to win the affection of my family and my fiancé was a complete failure. It told me to kill myself, to leave this world immediately. But I chose a different path. I would use my death to get justice for those poor girls. … Dan strode toward me, his face grim. “If you insist on defying us, then fine. As you wish. The engagement is off.” I nodded, took out my phone, and posted a public statement. —My engagement to Dan Croft is hereby terminated.— I held up the phone for them to see. “Is this good enough for you?” All three of them were stunned into silence. Dan stared at me in disbelief. Then he gritted his teeth. “Fine. Then you’ll get rid of the baby, too. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll cause with it later.” I touched my stomach, a sad smile on my face. “The baby’s already gone.” The words had barely left my lips when Dan lunged, grabbing my shoulders. “What are you talking about? How could you? How could you get rid of our baby without even talking to me?” He had every right to be shocked. He had seen how much I wanted this child. My pregnancy had been high-risk, and I had endured countless hormone shots that left my stomach bruised and purple. I had forced down bowl after bowl of bitter medicine to fight off the nausea. I, a doctor who believed in science, had even placed a statue of a fertility goddess in our bedroom, praying to it every day. I wanted this child because, in my other life, I was an orphan. I had always yearned for a family, for someone connected to me by blood. But I also knew that if this child was born into a world where it was unloved, just like me, its life would be a torment. Dan, in his shock, assumed I’d had an abortion. His eyes were shattered. He forgot completely why he had come here, grabbing my hand and trying to drag me to a hospital to confirm it. Just then, a cry came from behind us. It was Lucy, her voice high and shrill. “Dan, isn’t this supposed to be our wedding day? Why are you holding her hand? Why is she wearing a wedding dress?” “Vera, did you call me here just to show me Dan betraying me? I hate you! I hate you both!” She turned and ran, sobbing, straight into the street. My brother shouted her name. My mother slapped me again. “What did you call her here for? Are you not happy until you’ve driven her completely insane? If anything happens to Lucy today because of you, we are finished!” “Dan, stop her!” Dan threw my hand away. I fell backward, the gravel tearing through what was left of my dress, scraping my knees raw. I sat on the ground, a bitter smile on my face, and watched them all run after Lucy. I had seen their backs turned to me like this so many times before. When I first came to this family, there had been a brief, beautiful time. Mom would cook for me, smiling. Leo would buy me ice cream after school. Liam would pull me into his room to play his favorite video games. Everything changed the day I started dating the boy next door, Dan. Lucy started having episodes. She would cry and scream that I was threatening her, that I was going to send her back to my abusive adoptive parents. “Vera said it’s not fair!” she would wail, tears streaming down her face. “Why should she have to suffer while I get to live her good life? She said she’s going to make my life a living hell, too!” At first, they would try to soothe her. Mom would say, “That’s not possible, darling. Vera would never say that.” Leo would defend me. “She’s a good kid.” Liam would add, “You must have misunderstood her, Lucy.” But over time, my mother and youngest brother started to side with her. During Lucy’s tantrums, they would turn on me, their faces cold. “When are you going to stop? Do you enjoy tormenting her like this?” “We never should have brought you back. You’ve ruined this family.” Back then, Leo would still stand up for me. He told them about my volunteer work, helping girls who had been abused. “How could a kind person like Vera say something so cruel? Mom, you’re being unfair!” He would take me out of the house, away from the tension. Once, on my birthday, Lucy threw a massive fit, forbidding me from celebrating. Leo just came and picked me up. He bought me a cake and used his own money to buy me a white dress. “It’s your birthday tomorrow,” he said, ruffling my hair. “I’m taking you to Disneyland. Don’t think about any of that other nonsense. I will always believe you, Vera. I’ll always be on your side.” But it all ended the next day. I had taken the day off from work to surprise Leo. On my way home, my adoptive father, just released from prison, cornered me in an alley. It was a dark, damp place that smelled of peeling paint and mold. He dragged me into the shadows, snarling, “You little bitch. You dared to call the cops on me. I’ll teach you a lesson.” I struggled, but he kicked me to the ground. He snatched the cake box from my hands and stomped on it, the cream and frosting mixing with the grime on the pavement like a pool of blood. He beat me until I was dizzy, tearing my new dress. In that moment, I felt like I was back in that hell I had escaped from. When I came to, I ran to find my brother, clutching my wounds. He was sitting outside a hospital room. I threw myself at him, crying, “Leo, help me…” Before I could finish, he slapped me. It was the first time he had ever hit me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the hospital room, forcing me to my knees in front of Lucy’s bed. “I can’t believe how good you are at pretending,” he spat, his voice laced with disgust. “You actually paid that animal to attack your own sister!” Tears streamed down my face. “No… it wasn’t me…” But he didn’t believe me. He just looked at me with cold disappointment. “I can’t believe they turned you into this. Now Lucy’s had a complete breakdown because of you! You will spend the rest of your life atoning for this, Vera. You will live with this guilt forever.” My mother stood by, her face blank. Even Dan looked at me with cold eyes and said, “I’m so disappointed in you.” After that, he spent almost every day with Lucy, saying he was making amends on my behalf. For the longest time, I thought my adoptive father had lied to get revenge on me. Until Thea overheard Lucy on the phone with a friend. She was laughing. “Of course I’m fine! It was all an act. A little bit of money and that old drunk was happy to play along. I told you, she’s nothing. All I have to do is cry a little, and the whole family believes me.” When Thea told me, I just went numb. … I snapped back to the present. I pushed myself up from the ground and started walking toward the hotel. I’d only taken a few steps when Leo ran up and grabbed my arm. “You did this on purpose!” he roared. “You called Lucy here just to trigger her! She almost got hit by a car, and now she’s fainted from shock! You’re coming to the hospital with us, and you’re going to kneel by her bed and beg for forgiveness! We’ll decide whether to let you go when she wakes up!” I struggled, but he was too strong. He dragged me to his car. A voice in my earpiece crackled to life. “Target’s gone dark. Stand down for now. No need to enter the hotel.” I let out a long sigh. “Roger that,” I whispered, and turned off the device. They took me to the emergency room where Lucy had been admitted. Leo pushed me toward the door. As it swung shut, I spoke, my voice quiet. “Leo, I never told anyone I was going to the hotel in my wedding dress. I didn’t call anyone to meet me there. And I certainly didn’t call Lucy.” “This time, will you believe me?” He just frowned, pushing me impatiently. “Enough with the excuses. Just do as you’re told and apologize. If Lucy forgives you, Mom and I will let this go.” A bitter smile touched my lips, the last flicker of hope inside me extinguished. I turned and walked into the ER. The moment the door closed, a sharp pain shot through my neck, and the world went black. When I woke up, I was tied up in a musty warehouse. The air was thick and smelled of mildew. Lucy was lying next to me. Her eyes fluttered open, and she immediately started cursing. “Mark, you old fool! Are you senile? I told you just to knock her out! Why did you drug me too?” She tried to sit up but found she was tied. “I told you it was just an act! You were only supposed to tie her up! Why am I tied up? This manicure cost me three grand a nail! If you mess it up, can you afford to pay for it, you old bastard?” As she was ranting, something was thrown into the room. Lucy’s eyes focused on it, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream. It was a body, hacked to pieces. It was my adoptive father, her biological father, Mark. A stooped figure emerged from the shadows, a sinister smile on his face. The System’s voice was cold in my head. [This is the Butcher.] Just as Lucy started begging for her life, the doors burst open. A team of armed police officers stormed in. “Release the hostages, or we’ll shoot!” My brother was at the front, his eyes blazing. “Let my sister go!” he roared. “And I’ll make sure they leave your body in one piece!” Dan heard Lucy’s cries and shouted, “I’ll give you three hundred million! Just let Lucy go!”

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1 In the final days of my life, I grew to despise my daughter. If not for her, I could have lived a life of wild freedom—I wouldn’t be dying young, worn out from exhaustion. So I began to torment her. I made her cook, clean, and serve me endlessly. I watched coldly as she cut her finger chopping vegetables, blood beading like a red jewel. I grabbed my cane and struck her hard across the back. “Are you really this useless?” I snarled. “Can’t you do anything right?” Finally, I called my ex-husband. “Come get your daughter. I can’t handle her anymore.” But Claire dropped to her knees, her voice trembling. “Mommy… are you sending me away?” I clenched my jaw and nodded. “Yes. I don’t want you anymore.” Heartbreak swept over her young face. She couldn’t understand—in the time I had left, I had something far more important to do. I was going to become Ethan Knight’s greatest regret. The one love he lost forever. When Ethan walked through the door, his eyes swept the room, a deep frown forming on his face. His gaze landed on me, cold as ice. “Is this what you call a ‘good environment’ for our daughter?” he demanded. “You let Claire live in a place like this?” I was lounging on the sofa, casually eating a slice of apple Claire had just handed me, the picture of lazy contentment. Ethan’s frown deepened. “My God, Elara, you have no shame! If you didn’t want to take care of her, why did you fight so hard for custody?” “To make your life hell, of course,” I said with a shrug. “You left me for Stella Locke without a second thought. Why should I let your daughter have a good life?” My careless words hit their mark. Ethan’s control snapped. He slammed his fist into the wall, his voice raw with anger. “I was right about you, Elara! You’re nothing but a lazy, self-indulgent parasite!” “That huge settlement I gave you when we divorced—I bet you didn’t spend a dime of it on Claire. You blew it all on yourself, didn’t you?” My breath hitched, and my fingers dug into the armrest of the sofa. Ethan’s voice pressed on. “And now that the money’s gone, you’re tired of playing mom? Or is this just another ploy to squeeze more cash out of me, using Claire as bait?” He looked down at our daughter, at her worn-out clothes, and his eyes blazed with fury. “You’re overthinking things,” I said, popping the last piece of apple into my mouth. “I’ve had Claire for three years, and frankly, I’m done.” “The kid’s got a difficult personality, no sense of gratitude. She’s always causing trouble for me at school.” “And she’s slow. A total nightmare to teach anything to. Her grades are a disaster.” “I’m not wasting any more of my life on her. You take her. You always adored her so much, didn’t you?” I added, a saccharine smile on my face. “Or are you afraid Stella won’t let you bring Claire home?” Ethan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Elara, you carried her for nine months. She’s your own flesh and blood. How can you say such horrible things about her?” I let out a small, bitter laugh inside. “I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s the truth. Claire is not an exceptional child. Maybe… my genes dragged her down. So I’m giving her back to you. Maybe you can do a better job.” Ethan’s chest heaved, his face flushed with rage. He turned and knelt, taking Claire’s hand. His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the venom he’d directed at me. “Claire, sweetheart. Daddy’s taking you home.” Instinctively, Claire pulled her hand away and took two steps toward me. I held her gaze, my expression unyielding. For a heartbeat, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—a question, a plea. Then, she turned back, took Ethan’s hand, and looked up at him. “Daddy,” she said softly, “I’ll go with you. But… will you be good to me?” I saw Ethan’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nodded fiercely. His head snapped back toward me, his voice thick with hatred. “Elara, I want you to stay out of Claire’s life. You stay away from my daughter. A person like you doesn’t deserve to be a mother.” He pulled Claire with him, storming out and slamming the door so hard the floorboards rattled. The moment they were gone, my body gave out. I collapsed over the side of the sofa, vomiting up the apple and everything else in my stomach. After a long moment, I closed my eyes, breathing through the nausea, and dialed Ethan’s assistant. “Mr. Davis,” I said, my voice weak. “When Ethan and I divorced, how much was the settlement he arranged for me?” The man on the other end went silent. The pause stretched, heavy with guilt. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Ms. Croft… I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Mr. Knight gave you a million dollars in cash and a luxury condo. But… Ms. Locke intercepted it all.” “The Locke family is powerful. They threatened my job, my family… I’m just an employee, Ms. Croft. I’m truly, deeply sorry…” “I understand,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t blame you.” “But I need you to tell Ethan the truth when the time is right. You owe that to me, and you owe it to Claire.” Another long silence. Then, a quiet, resigned, “Yes.” I hung up and let my body sink completely into the sofa cushions, my mind drifting. My story with Ethan was painfully simple. I loved him, and he loved someone else. I’d adored him from afar for three years, and when his perfect Stella Locke went abroad to study, I saw my chance and took it. We married, and soon we had our beautiful daughter. For a while, the way Ethan looked at me grew softer, warmer. Just when I thought we were building a real life, his perfect girl came back. What followed was the oldest story in the book. A forced divorce. But unlike in the novels, there was no grand, regretful gesture, no dramatic chase to win me back. The only surprise was that in the three years since we’d split, he and Stella had never married. I never doubted Ethan’s love for Claire, but his affections were fickle. With Stella constantly whispering in his ear, I couldn’t risk our daughter’s future on a gamble. And I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the child I’d fought so hard to bring into this world all alone. So when we divorced, I fought for her. I had a job; I could support us. This apartment wasn’t the hovel Ethan made it out to be. It just wasn’t the Knight family mansion. My thoughts grew hazy, and I drifted off, only to be jolted awake by the shrill ring of my phone. Ethan’s voice was a low growl, laced with icy fury. “You’re a monster, Elara.” “You dared to abuse my daughter?” “She’s just a little girl! How could you hit her? The nanny saw the bruises on her back when she was giving her a bath. Even she was in tears.” “And you… you’re her mother. How could you be so cruel…?” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a second, I thought I heard a sob. Suppressing my surprise, I answered calmly, “I was just trying to teach her a lesson. She’s so clumsy, she never learns.” “Bullshit!” he roared. The vulgarity was so unlike the polished gentleman he always tried to be that a small, genuine laugh escaped my lips. “You think this is funny? I’m telling you, Elara, I won’t let you get away with this!” He hung up. I waited for his revenge. But three days passed, and all I got was a call from my boss telling me I was fired. I just smiled. It didn’t matter. What’s a job when you only have a few days left to live? Two weeks later, I came home from a hospital appointment to find Ethan waiting outside my door. This time, he wasn’t shouting. He just watched me, his expression searching, confused. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice hesitant. “Elara… do you even know our daughter?” “Claire is sweet, she’s obedient, and she’s been top of her class every single year. Why would you say she’s a terrible student?” “At first, I thought you just didn’t care enough to know. But I heard you never missed a parent-teacher conference. Her teacher said you were always asking about her progress.” “So, Elara,” he asked, his eyes locking onto mine, “why did you lie?” I lowered my gaze, my mind racing. Then, I looked up and gave him a mocking smile. “Does it matter what I say, Ethan? When have you ever believed a word that came out of my mouth?” He flinched, a flicker of memory crossing his face, and his expression soured. “Remember when Stella moved into our house right after she came back?” I pressed on. “She knew she was allergic to shellfish, but she told me she was craving seafood risotto and begged me to make it for her.” She had made a show of praising my cooking right in front of him, then collapsed, gasping for air. No matter how much I tried to explain, Ethan was convinced I’d done it on purpose. “You can’t stand to see her happy, can you, Elara? Do you have any idea how dangerous an allergy can be? Your jealousy has made you into a pathetic, irrational monster!” His harsh words used to feel like daggers. Now, I felt nothing. “Remember when she tore her gown for the gala and blamed me? I explained, the housekeeper even backed me up, but did you believe me?” The color drained from Ethan’s face. “The day you took her to that art exhibit overseas, she paid off one of the counselors at Claire’s summer camp to call me and say Claire had gotten lost on a hike in the mountains.” “I drove out there in the middle of the night. Someone ‘guided’ me deep into the woods until I was completely lost. I nearly died out there.” “And when I told you what happened, what did you say?” He had looked at me with a flash of surprise, then immediately dismissed it. “That’s impossible. I was with Stella the entire time. When would she have had the time to arrange all that?” His excuses were pathetic then, and they were pathetic now. But I knew that once Ethan Knight made up his mind, nothing could change it. Unless… “Some things, you have to find out for yourself. You’ll only believe it when you see the proof.” My voice was cold, detached. He stood there in a long, heavy silence as I unlocked my door and stepped inside. Just as I was about to close it, I heard him whisper, “I’m sorry.” “I didn’t know Stella kept the settlement money from you. I’ll make it right.” I offered a dismissive smile. Money was the last thing on my mind. But one thing was critically important. In the time I had left, I would become Ethan’s other great love. The one he could never have back. A ghost that would haunt him forever. If he wouldn’t mourn me out of love, I would force him to mourn me out of guilt. Every woman knows the devastating power of a love lost to death. Only then would he truly, endlessly love my daughter. Only then would he shut his heart to any other woman who tried to get close. I admit, my plan was selfish and cruel. But I had no regrets. Inside, I swallowed a handful of the new painkillers, forcing down the wave of nausea. Then I picked up a pen and wrote in my journal. A week later, a frantic pounding echoed through my apartment. I opened the door and was violently shoved inside before I could even see who it was. The door slammed shut behind them. Five or six people stood in my living room. Leading them was Stella Locke. Her expression was more arrogant than ever, but her eyes burned with a raw, hateful fire. “You’re clever, Elara, I’ll give you that. Actually convincing Ethan to look into what happened three years ago.” “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? We were about to get engaged!” She stepped forward and her hand flew, striking my face with a sharp crack. I could have dodged it, but I took the full force of the blow. A bright red handprint bloomed on my cheek. I lowered my head, feigning fear, but a secret smile touched my lips. The slap seemed to have calmed her slightly. “Don’t get too smug,” she said, her voice regaining its composure. “So what if Ethan knows the truth? All I have to do is sweet-talk him a little, and he’ll come running back to me.” “Just like before. He abandoned you for me once, he’ll do it again.” She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “And after I marry him, I’ll be sure to take very good care of your precious daughter.” My head snapped up. I shoved her with all my might, sending her stumbling back. Rage contorted her beautiful features. “Teach her a lesson!” she shrieked. Rough hands grabbed me, forcing me to the floor. They held metal rods, and they brought them down hard on my back. After just a few blows, Stella called them off. “I’m not going to give you a chance to play the victim for Ethan,” she purred, looking down at me. “It’s just a few hits. You can handle that, can’t you?” With that, she and her thugs swept out of my apartment. I lay on the floor, unable to move for a long time. But inside, my heart was pounding with a wild, triumphant excitement. I had been trying to figure out how to lure her here, and she had walked right into my trap, playing her part perfectly. I let out a raw, broken laugh. With trembling arms, I pulled myself up and wrote the final entry in my journal. Then, I emptied the entire bottle of sleeping pills into my hand and swallowed them all. Don’t blame me for this, Stella. I no longer cared about her and Ethan’s twisted love story. But if she hadn’t stolen the money Ethan meant for me, I wouldn’t have had to work three jobs just to give my daughter a decent life. I wouldn’t have destroyed my own body in the process. This was a debt she owed me. I was never a good person to begin with. A mother who would strike her own child is destined for hell. What’s one more sin on my soul? Claire, my darling, Mommy can’t watch you grow up, can’t see you blossom into a beautiful woman, can’t be there for the spectacular life you’re going to live. But with my own life, I will buy you a ticket to a better one. With that last thought, my world faded to black.

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For three years, I was the secret wife of Cole Pierce, Hollywood’s biggest star. And for three years, I was the most hated woman on the internet. He resented me. He resented our arranged marriage, a business deal that forced him onto the set of a reality dating show with Ava Sinclair—the girl he’d always loved—and pretend they were strangers. We were toxic, a slow poison we fed each other daily. It only stopped when I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. On my deathbed, I scrolled through my phone and saw it: Cole and Ava’s relationship was finally public. The whole world was celebrating. “It’s about time,” one of the top comments read. “That desperate parasite is finally out of the picture.” The next time I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in a hospital bed. I was back on the set of that godforsaken reality show, at the exact moment the director told us all to reveal our phone’s lock screen. The first time around, my screen showed a candid photo I had secretly taken of Cole. They crucified me for it online. This time, with a steady hand, I woke up my phone. “It’s nothing special,” I said. “Just the photo from my marriage certificate. To Cole Pierce.” You want your freedom, Cole? Fine. But first, you can pay for it by giving me the most spectacular, career-ending implosion the world has ever seen. 1 “Alright, everyone, let’s start with a little icebreaker to warm things up!” The director of Heartbeat Harbor, the reality dating show of the season, grinned as he raised a megaphone. “On the count of three, I want everyone to show us your phone’s lock screen. Let’s see who—or what—you’re all holding close to your hearts!” A ripple of knowing smiles went through the cast. Cole Pierce, the aloof, impossibly handsome movie star, stood with a practiced, cool distance. Beside him, Ava Sinclair, the current “it girl,” glanced at him with a blush painting her cheeks. They were the internet’s favorite couple, a match made in PR heaven. And then there was me, Claire. The background character. The one they shoehorned in, the industry plant everyone loved to hate. The last time I was here, in another life, this exact moment had been my public execution. The candid photo of Cole’s profile on my lock screen had made me a laughingstock. “Get that desperate stalker off the screen!” “Claire needs to stay a million miles away from our man!” Cole had shot me a look of pure disgust, his words a cold blade in the sudden silence. “Claire, have some self-respect.” One sentence, and I was condemned. Now, the director’s voice boomed again. “Okay, here we go! Three… two… one!” Ava, with a bashful dip of her head, turned her screen to the camera. It showed an adorable little ragdoll cat. Everyone knew Cole’s beloved cat was named Mochi. The livestream chat instantly exploded. omg I’m screaming!! It’s Mochi! This is proof! Ava is so sweet! Look at the way Cole’s looking at her, his whole face just softened! And it was true. A faint smile was playing on Cole’s lips. He pulled out his own phone. The screen showed the generic, default mountain landscape that came with the device. Classic Cole. Never giving anything away, always maintaining that untouchable brand. Finally, every camera, every pair of eyes in the room, swiveled to me. They were filled with judgment, with disdain, with the delicious anticipation of watching a train wreck. I met their gazes and calmly woke my phone. The screen lit up with a government-issued document, its header stark and official. It was a photo of a man and a woman, shot against a plain red background. The man’s handsome features were pulled into a tight, reluctant line. The woman beside him offered a gentle smile, but her eyes were utterly dead. It was my marriage certificate photo. Mine and Cole’s. The air in the studio froze. The director’s smile was cemented on his face. The color drained from Ava Sinclair’s cheeks, inch by painful inch. And Cole Pierce’s famously unreadable expression finally cracked. He whipped his head toward me, his eyes wide with utter shock. The livestream chat, after three seconds of stunned silence, went nuclear. ??????????? Is my screen frozen or am I having a stroke? Is that a MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE??? HAS to be photoshopped! That bitch Claire is insane, she’ll do anything for clout! Through the rising chaos, I heard Cole’s voice, squeezed through his clenched teeth. “Claire, what the hell have you done?” His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a blind spot from the cameras. His grip was tight enough to grind my bones together. I looked up at him, my smile as thin and sharp as ice. “You think the certificate is fake, Cole? Is the fact that we’re married fake, too?” I ripped my wrist from his grasp, stood, and held my phone up to the nearest camera, making sure the lens got a clear, steady shot. “Sorry, I almost forgot to introduce myself properly.” “I’m Claire. Cole Pierce’s legal wife.” “We’ve been married for three years.”

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My best friend suggested I use a burner account to test my fiancé. So I did. I created a fake profile and gave her the username, telling her it was his. The second she added it, she went to work. One minute she was trashing me, telling my “fiancé” I had a train of men behind me and was damaged goods. The next, she was spamming the account with her own pictures—low-cut tops, long legs, ass pushed out. “Hey stranger 😉 Up for something fun?” “I’m a good girl. I do what I’m told.” I typed back: “I don’t believe you. Unless…” The next day, at the company’s all-hands meeting, my best friend was hauled out on a stretcher by paramedics, convulsing from a foreign object vibrating inside her. 1 The moment Liam asked me to marry him, something shifted in my best friend, Mia. A subtle cloud passed over her face. Was she worried I was going to get hurt? It didn’t make sense. Liam was the entire package: tall, handsome, smart, from a good family. He was completely devoted to me. You couldn’t find a flaw on the man if you hired a private investigator. Maybe she was just afraid she’d see less of me after the wedding. I tried to soothe her fears. “I know Liam loves to travel, but don’t worry. I’ll bring you back a souvenir from every single place we go.” That only seemed to make it worse. No amount of cajoling worked. I was getting frustrated. “Mia, what is going on with you?” I finally asked. She’s been my best friend since elementary school. We’re practically sisters. She’s been there for every major moment of my life, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her holding some secret resentment about my marriage, about Liam. Mia picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Chloe,” she started, her voice hesitant. “I’m just… I’m worried about Liam. Don’t you think getting engaged was a little… impulsive?” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Did she know something? Had Liam done something? Seeing the alarm on my face, she quickly backpedaled. “No, no, it’s just a healthy suspicion! Think about it. What man doesn’t have a wandering eye? Especially a guy like Liam. He’s got everything going for him, women are constantly throwing themselves at him. Why would he be so completely fixated on you? You’re great, but… you know.” I narrowed my eyes. “What does that mean? Are you saying I’m not good enough for my own fiancé?” “Of course not!” she said, a little too quickly. “I just mean that marriage is forever. You should be absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure about his character before you commit. What if he shows his true colors after you’re married? Cheating, abuse… Your whole life could be ruined.” I hesitated. “So what are you suggesting I do?” Her eyes lit up. She grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly tight. “Give me his number. I’ll make a new account, add him, and test him. If he can resist the temptation, then we’ll know he’s a good guy. Then I’ll feel okay giving you away.” Something about it felt wrong immediately. It was a blatant show of distrust, and it just wasn’t my style. But Mia was relentless. Finally, to shut her up, I told her I’d think about it. When I got home, my mind was racing. I decided to do what I should have done from the start: tell Liam. We were supposed to be partners. Honesty was everything. Better to air this out now than to play stupid games. If there was a real problem, we’d deal with it. I explained the situation, bracing myself for his anger. Instead, he just laughed. It was a full, genuine laugh that echoed in our apartment. He pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair. “Are you sure she’s your best friend and not some enemy spy trying to sabotage us?” he chuckled. “That’s a new level of shady. The girl is practically radiating desperation.” I bristled, pushing away from him. “Don’t talk about her like that. We’ve been friends for over a decade. We’re not going to let a man come between us.” Liam’s smile faded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. Instead, he offered a different solution. “Okay, how about this? You create a burner account. Give her that username and tell her it’s me. Then you can chat with her yourself.” He smirked. “Let’s see how she plans on ‘testing’ me.” Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Mia, pestering me for his contact info. A slow grin spread across my face. Perfect. I created a new profile in seconds and sent the username to Mia. Almost instantly, a friend request popped up on the burner. The first message followed. “Hey there, handsome. ;)” I thought for a moment, trying to channel Liam’s direct, no-nonsense tone. “Who is this?” Her reply was instantaneous. “Who I am isn’t important. What’s important is that your girlfriend is playing you for a fool, sleeping around behind your back while you get ready to wife her up.” My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the screen, the words blurring. This was her test? To slander me? I took a few deep breaths, forcing my trembling hands to steady as I typed. “What are you talking about? What about my girlfriend?” A sympathetic hug emoji appeared. “You’ve been lied to. She puts on this innocent act, but in college, she was legendary. Juggled multiple guys at once. Her reputation was garbage.” “For a thrill, she used to hook up with the foreign exchange students. Tons of people saw her going back to their dorms with two or three of them at a time.” “She even had some nasty STD for a while. Had to get treated for… you know… growths down there. It was disgusting.” “I know you two are about to get married, and I just can’t stand by and watch a good, decent guy like you get conned by a woman like her.” She followed it up with a string of kissy-face emojis. This was my best friend. My sister. Smearing my name, fabricating the most vicious lies, all under the guise of helping me. White-hot rage flooded my veins. I forced myself to stay calm, to play the part. “Do you have any proof of this? Or are you just making shit up?” “I have pictures from college. And screenshots of her texts. You want to see them?” How was that possible? Before I could even ask, my phone buzzed with a flood of incoming files. I opened them, my stomach churning. And there they were. They were real. But they were twisted. Screenshots of conversations, edited and spliced together to look incriminating. Messages sent from accounts with my profile picture, saying things I would never say. The photos were from my study abroad program—group pictures with other students from around the world. But the way Mia had packaged it, combined with the specificity of her lies—the dates, the places—it was terrifyingly convincing. If she sent this to anyone else, they would believe it. The “evidence” was right there. The anger peaked and then collapsed into a profound, hollow sadness. I was the fool. I’d been so good to her. The first person I called with any good news. The person I defended unconditionally, no matter what. Why? Why would she do this to me? A second later, I had my answer. After giving “Liam” a few minutes to process the shock, she sent another message. “I know you and your girlfriend. I know all the things she tries to hide. I can only imagine how you’re feeling right now.” “A woman like that doesn’t deserve you. You give her everything, and she throws it in your face.” Then, the pivot. “You should look at me instead. I’ve been watching you for a while. I feel for you.” “If I had an amazing boyfriend like you, I would never, ever cheat. I’d cherish you.” I actually laughed out loud, a bitter, sharp sound. So that was it. Liam was right. She was trying to steal him. To seal the deal, she sent a volley of photos. No face, just body parts. A shot looking down her low-cut shirt. A picture of her legs, crossed just so. Her bending over in a pair of tiny shorts. The caption read: “I know you’re hurting. Let me help you forget about that bitch. Come out and play.” Liam saw the look on my face, the raggedness of my breathing. He gently took the phone from my hands. “Don’t let her get to you,” he said softly, then raised his hand as if taking an oath. “I swear, Chloe. I would never be interested in a two-faced snake like Mia. You’re the only one I love.” “See her for who she is, and then we cut her out of our lives. We never have to deal with her again.” A twisted smile touched my lips. I took the phone back. “Oh, no,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I can’t let her get away with this. She took her shot. Now it’s my turn.” I typed a reply. “Who are you? Why should I believe a total stranger?” She responded instantly. “You’ll know when we meet. I promise, it’ll be a pleasant surprise.” For the next few days, I played the part of a heartbroken, confused Liam. I’d text Mia sporadically, never agreeing to break up with myself, just keeping her on the hook. She was getting impatient. Her messages grew bolder. “Hey stranger. You up for some fun?” “I’m a good girl. I do what I’m told. ;)” “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret. I’ll be your perfect little dirty secret. Your girlfriend will never have to know.” At the same time, she was probing me in person, asking how things were with Liam. I put on my best performance, letting my shoulders slump, my voice laced with sadness. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” I’d sigh. “He’s been so distant lately.” “It’s like he’s upset about something, but he won’t tell me what. He’s always hiding his phone, texting someone in secret.” Then I’d look at her, my eyes wide with fake worry. “You tested him, right? You didn’t find anything weird, did you?” I watched her face closely. A flicker of panic in her eyes, quickly masked by a triumphant smirk. She covered her mouth with her hand, feigning a giggle. “Nope, everything was totally normal! Liam was a perfect gentleman. You shouldn’t be so suspicious. Maybe he’s just stressed about work. Give him some space.” That night, Mia escalated her attack. She sent a new batch of photos, these ones practically pornographic, the text messages a desperate, vulgar plea. Fighting back a wave of nausea, I saved every screenshot. Then I replied. “We’ve been talking for a while now. I need to see some real commitment from you. How do I know I can trust you?” She saw her opening. “How can I prove it to you?” she asked eagerly. A cold, sharp smile spread across my face. I licked my lips. “Honestly? I like a girl who’s uninhibited. More fun to play with.” “My girlfriend looks innocent, but she’s secretly a freak. I’m kind of sick of it. It feels… dirty.” “You get it, right? I want a girl who’s only wild for me. A girl who’s up for anything.” She assured me she was that girl. So much more adventurous than me. And clean, of course. No messy history. So, I gave her the first task. “So you’re that desperate for a man, huh, you little slut?” “Good. Send me your address. I’m mailing you a package. Do exactly what I tell you to.” “You pull this off, and I’ll agree to meet you.”

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I was on the Acela Express, heading north out of the city, when I saw him: the kind of handsome that makes you stop breathing for a second, watching porn on his phone. He wasn’t even using headphones. “Hey,” I whispered, leaning over the armrest. “You might want to turn that down.” He didn’t look up. “It’s my home security feed.” “Oh. My bad.” I sank back into my seat. “Sorry about that… man.” What else do you say to a guy watching his own cheating partner? He finally glanced at me, and his eyes were pure murder. Still, I felt a pang of sympathy for him. That is, until I saw the tattoo in the video. A familiar, intricate design of a succubus, its wings wrapped around the man’s bicep. My blood went cold. No. Fucking. Way. 1 “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit!” I snatched the phone from his hand, my face so close to the screen I could feel the static. My fingers were trembling. It wasn’t possible. The universe couldn’t be that cruel, that specific. But the lean, muscular man on the screen, naked from the waist up with a stomach I knew better than my own—that was Liam. We grew up together. We’d been together for eight years. I’d know him anywhere. We were supposed to get married next month. The thought hit me like a physical blow. My eyes instantly flooded, and my chest felt like it had been split wide open, a cold wind howling through the new, empty space. He was cheating on me. Liam was cheating on me. “Someone’s excited,” the guy next to me drawled, a smirk playing on his lips. He was watching me now, his chin propped on his hand. “First time seeing the main event?” He was right. It was the first time I’d seen Liam from this angle. Right now, my fiancé was kneeling before a pair of legs in black stockings, a gleaming silver chain fastened around his neck. The raw, explicit image slammed into my brain. The woman’s ecstatic moans filled the air from the phone’s tiny speakers. It was all too much. My stomach lurched, my throat tightened, and a wave of nausea crested over me. I turned and threw up, the contents of my stomach landing squarely in the handsome stranger’s lap. Oh, wow. That’s… vivid. “Agh—!” He let out a strangled cry, clamping a hand over his nose and mouth as he shot up from his seat, scrambling for the restroom. A few minutes later, he returned, a dark, wet patch staining the front of his expensive-looking jeans. The murderous look was back in his eyes, tenfold. But I didn’t give him a chance to tear into me. The train was pulling into the station. My station. I had to find Liam. I had to get an explanation. I needed to slap his face until my hand went numb and then I needed to—well, let’s just say I had plans for his “equipment.” I grabbed my bag and stood over the guy. “Where do you live? Take me there. Now.” He raised an eyebrow, a look of incredulous disgust on his face. “What, you didn’t get enough of the show? You want a front-row seat?” “Don’t you?” I shot back. He studied me, his suspicion warring with a dawning realization. “Look, I obviously do, but what’s it to you? If you’re into this stuff, I can give you some websites, you don’t have to get… weird about it.” Right. I was being weird. It was my own fault. I was trying so hard to hold it together, to be angry and strong, but the tears were streaming down my face now, hot and unstoppable. His expression softened slightly as he took in my red, swollen eyes. Comprehension finally clicked into place. “Oh, fuck. No way. You’re telling me that’s your…?” “He’s my fiancé,” I choked out. “The one I’m supposed to marry next month.” He sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment, all the animosity vanished, replaced by a flicker of something else. He looked at me, dead serious, and said, “My condolences.” “Save it,” I sniffled, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “We’re in the same goddamn boat. So, are you coming or not? We have a cheating to catch.” A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. “Catching them? Oh, we’re going to do a hell of a lot more than that.” 2 On the way to his house, I learned his name was Rhys, and the woman in the video was his fiancée. He was supposed to be in Boston for a business trip but had decided to come back a day early to surprise her for her birthday. Looks like the surprise was on him. “So what were you coming here for?” he asked, his tone casual as he navigated the highway. My heart was a lead weight in my stomach. The last thing I wanted was small talk. I just wanted this nightmare to be over. “A psychic told me I had a dark cloud over my head today,” I mumbled. “Came to see if she was right.” The truth, of course, was much more mundane. I was coming to finalize wedding details with Liam. The caterer, the seating charts—all the little things you can’t sort out over text. He’d been on this consulting gig for weeks, too busy to come home, so I’d decided to come to him. I was supposed to be surprising him, too. “Holy shit, they’re still going at it,” Rhys said, his eyes flicking down to the phone mounted on his dashboard. He let out a low whistle. “I’ll give him this, your boyfriend’s got stamina. Is he… always this adventurous?” I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. I didn’t know what to say. Because the Liam I knew, the man I slept next to, was a completely different person from the one on that screen. It was like I’d never met him at all. “Oh, look at that. He’s brought out the candles and the whip. Check out the arch on your boyfriend’s back… Damn, makes you just want to smack it.” He held the phone out to me. I recoiled. “Stop it. Aren’t you embarrassed?” “Embarrassed? Are you kidding me? This is exhilarating!” He threw his head back and laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. “What a rich and beautiful life experience!” I decided not to engage. The man was clearly unhinged. I stared out the window, watching the green blur of the suburbs fly by. My heart was pounding against my ribs, my palms slick with sweat. Was I really ready for this? What would I even say when I saw Liam? Forget saying anything. I’d just act. The rage was already simmering, a pressure building inside me. To not let it out now would be like holding in a sneeze. Unnatural. Unhealthy. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. The car turned into a private, gated community, the kind with sprawling lawns and houses the size of hotels. So, Rhys was rich. Which meant his fiancée… Stop it, Clara, I scolded myself. Focus. “Don’t be nervous,” Rhys said, his voice strangely calm. “The first time catching a cheater is always the hardest. It gets easier.” He glanced at me. “I’ll go in first when we open the door. I’m worried the shock might make you… projectile vomit again.” “Okay. I’ll follow you.” I was wringing my hands in my lap, a bundle of nerves. “You, uh… you seem to have a lot of experience with this.” “Don’t ask,” he said with a wry grin. “Let’s just say I’m a man with a past.” There was no time to ask for more. We were here. 3 He parked in the driveway but didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey, babe. I’m home. Can you come down and open the door for me?” The voice on the other end was a flurry of panic. “Rhys? What… why are you back so early? I thought you weren’t coming until next week.” “Change of plans. What, not happy to see me?” “Of course I am! Just… just give me a second.” “What are you doing? You sound out of breath.” “Oh, you know. Just got off the Peloton.” “Alright. Well, I’m waiting. Hurry up.” He hung up and glanced at the security feed on his other phone, a wicked glint in his eye. “You’re being childish,” I said, my voice tight. “Just open the door.” “Where’s the fun in that?” He smirked. “Look at them scramble.” On the screen, two naked bodies were frantically pulling on clothes. I watched, mesmerized in horror, as Liam—my Liam—scrambled out of sight, disappearing under the bed. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I pulled out my own phone and dialed him. After a few rings, he picked up. “Where are you?” I asked, my voice dangerously sweet. “You didn’t answer before.” He whispered, his voice hushed and urgent. “I’m with a client, Clara. I told you this morning, it’s a huge meeting. Please don’t call unless it’s an emergency. I’ll call you when I’m done.” He hung up. Okay, Liam. Let’s see how you finish this meeting. Let’s see if you get out of there in one piece. “Ready?” Rhys asked. I took a shuddering breath. “Ready. Open it.” Click. The smart lock disengaged. A woman in a pink lace robe appeared in the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a messy halo around her head. My eyes scanned the room behind her, instantly catching the black stockings peeking out of a half-closed dresser drawer. The ones from the video. The air in the room was thick with a cloying, fishy smell that made my stomach turn. I thought of the frantic images from the security feed, and the nausea returned. Breathe, Clara, breathe. The woman was wiping at her smeared lipstick, forcing a bright, flirtatious smile. “Silly, you could have just let yourself in. Making me come all the way downstairs. Honestly, honey.” Then her eyes landed on me. “And… who is this?” “Her?” Rhys said, stepping inside. “She’s here to catch a cheater.” “Wh-what?” “I said,” Rhys repeated, his voice dropping an octave, “she’s here with me to catch a cheater. Sloane, I think we can drop the act now, don’t you?” The woman, Sloane, was visibly panicking, but she held her ground. “What act? Rhys, what the hell are you talking about? Are you accusing me of cheating on you?” “Am I wrong?” “Where’s your proof?” Rhys let out a cold laugh. He held up his phone, the video playing in a loop. “I installed cameras weeks ago. Did you really think I was that stupid, Sloane? After last time? After everything you promised me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. In one fluid motion, he strode to the bed, grabbed the edge of the mattress, and flipped it into the air with a deafening thump. And there he was. My Liam. Curled up on the floor, still wearing that ridiculous silver chain around his neck, exposed to the world. 4 “Honey, it’s not what it looks like, I can explain!” Sloane grabbed Rhys’s arm, her voice pleading. “The bed was broken, he’s… he’s a handyman! I don’t even know him! I love you, you know I would never—” SLAP. The sound echoed in the silent room. I had yanked her away from Rhys and struck her across the face, my palm stinging. “I am so fucking sick of this!” I screamed, my voice raw. “There are cameras! We just told you there are cameras! Are you that stupid? Do you think we’re idiots?” She stared at me, stunned into silence. Rhys and Liam were frozen, their eyes wide. I had snapped. Something inside me had just completely and utterly broken. I was done talking. Done thinking. Why waste my breath? The words were just getting stuck in my throat anyway, choking me. Eight years of my life, our wedding next month, the man I loved hiding under another woman’s bed… The blood roared in my ears, a hot, violent rush to my head. My eyes met Liam’s, and the fury inside me exploded. I’d unconsciously grabbed a golf club from a bag leaning against the wall. Now, I swung it, the heavy iron connecting with his cheek with a sickening crack. “Weren’t you with a client?” I shrieked, swinging again. “So this is your client? All this time, and I never knew you moonlighted as a fucking gigolo? You make me sick, Liam! You’re disgusting! You don’t deserve to live!” I hit him again and again, screaming and crying, lost in a red haze of pure rage. Sloane, snapped out of her stupor, tried to pull me away. I shoved her back with my free hand and, in a blind fury, swept my arm across her vanity, sending a cascade of expensive perfumes and makeup crashing to the floor. I snatched a piece of the shattered mirror and lunged at her, scratching it across her face. She screamed, collapsing to the ground, a bloody mess, and didn’t move again. “Clara, calm down! Just listen to me, please!” Liam grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, forcing me to look at him. “It’s not what you think!” “Not what I think? I saw it, Liam! I saw everything! You played me for a fool, and now you want me to be calm? Calm this!” I wrenched my arm free, grabbed a broken perfume bottle from the floor, and drove the jagged edge straight into his crotch. A gut-wrenching scream tore from his throat, a sound of pure agony that echoed off the walls. He collapsed, clutching himself, and didn’t get up. “You’re insane, Clara!” he gasped from the floor. “Yes! I am! You fucking drove me to this!” “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” “I know exactly what I’m doing! I want you gone, you piece of shit! Isn’t it obvious?” I stood over his writhing form, my whole body shaking. “Eight years, Liam! I gave you eight years of my life! Do you have any idea what that means? We were getting married! Married! I was going to give you everything, and this is how you repay me?” The memories—the good ones, the ones I had cherished—flashed through my mind, and the anger finally gave way to a wave of gut-wrenching sorrow. I sank to my knees and sobbed, the sound raw and broken in the wrecked room. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see Rhys, holding his phone up. “Hey,” he whispered, “try not to cry. I’m live-streaming this. It ruins the power dynamic.” “You’re… what? A live-stream?” I looked at his phone screen. The viewer count was ticking rapidly past one million. The world went dark at the edges, and I thought I was going to faint.

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1 I’m bound to the Lie-to-Riches System. For every lie someone tells me, I get $10,000. It was the first day of freshman year, and my new roommate introduced herself while decked out head-to-toe in designer brands. “Hi, everyone. I’m Stella Moss, Larry Vance’s fiancée. I hope we can all get along.” If she was Larry Vance’s fiancée, then who was I? As I stood there, stunned, my phone buzzed. A notification from my banking app: Deposit received: $10,000. I immediately texted my fiancé—whose own trust fund was currently frozen—and told him the news. It was time to start fleecing. … I stared at the $10,000 notification on my phone, my mind reeling. My other roommate, Jenna, was already fawning over Stella. “Welcome, Miss Moss! It’s an honor to be your humble roommate!” Stella swept into the dorm, her eyes landing on my faded t-shirt and worn-out sneakers with a look of undisguised contempt. She shoved her suitcase at me, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Unpack this. Put my clothes in the wardrobe and make my bed. From now on, you’ll be my personal assistant—fetching my coffee, doing my laundry, running my errands. You’ll be well-compensated, of course.” BZZZ. Another $10,000 hit my account. I almost laughed. I’d recognized Stella the moment she walked in. She was a charity case, a girl from a poor rural town my family had been sponsoring for years. I’d chosen her myself during a philanthropy trip when I was ten. With my family’s money, she not only had her basic needs covered but had repeatedly asked my father for extra cash for vacations and luxury makeup. Meanwhile, after I graduated high school, my family had frozen my accounts. It was their way of “building character,” forcing me to pay my own tuition and living expenses. I was working three jobs, running myself ragged just to make ends meet. A thought sparked in my mind. Since Stella clearly had no interest in using this opportunity to actually study, why shouldn’t I use her to my advantage? I could fleece her for all she was worth. Once I had enough seed money for my own business, I’d expose her and let her face the consequences. I set her suitcase on the floor, saying nothing. I was here to make money off her, not to be her servant. I pointed at the shoulder strap of her bag, where a single thread was loose, and plastered a sneer on my face. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t the high-and-mighty Miss Moss carrying a fake Hermès? A bag that expensive would never have a loose thread.” As I spoke, I pulled my own identical Hermès bag from my locker. Stella’s expression flickered. A flash of anger crossed her face, and her voice became shrill enough to shatter glass. “Of course it’s real! Don’t you know luxury brands are notoriously poor quality?” BZZZ. The Lie-to-Riches System activated again. Another $10,000. I could feel a giddy excitement bubbling up inside me; my hands were trembling. Jenna sneered at me. “She’s right! Everyone knows rich people only use their luxury items once! Ruby, is that a knockoff you bought from a street market?” Stella pinched her nose as if I were contaminated. “How can you be so shameless, carrying a fake? I despise social climbers. Just because your parents are poor farmers doesn’t mean you can pretend to be one of us!” She crossed her arms, looking down her nose at me. “Ruby, I have an entire wall of Hermès bags at home. If that bag of yours is real, I’ll eat shit.” BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ. $30,000. In an instant. My heart pounded. I’d always dreamed of starting my own business, but I never had the capital. Now, with just a few choice words, my startup fund was already 5% complete! I had to dig my nails into my thigh to keep from laughing out loud. Jenna clapped her hands, her voice oozing with fake admiration. “Ruby, you should thank Stella! She’s working so hard to show you the error of your ways!” I wasn’t angry. My gaze drifted from Stella’s bag to the four-leaf clover necklace around her neck. “Stella, is that the new Van Cleef & Arpels piece?” She touched the necklace, her chin held high. “Of course. My fiancé flew to Paris just to buy it for me.” As if by accident, I let the small magnet on my keychain swing near her neck. Click. The magnet snapped right onto her necklace. “Oh, dear! Miss Moss, why did your necklace stick to a magnet? I thought their pieces were 18-karat gold! Is that a fake?” I covered my mouth in mock horror, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Stella’s face turned beet red. She ripped the magnet off and threw it on the floor, her lips trembling. “This is absolutely real! It’s an SVIP custom piece from France! A country bumpkin like you wouldn’t understand!” BZZZ. Seeing the notification, I almost burst out laughing. The dorm room door was open, and a small crowd of students had gathered to watch the drama unfold. “But I heard the real ones aren’t magnetic,” someone whispered. “Is Stella’s necklace actually fake?” “Didn’t you hear her? It’s custom-made. Luxury brands always have special rules for their top clients.” “That makes sense! Ruby is just being jealous.” Suddenly, Stella’s eyes welled up with tears, her voice a fragile whisper. The performance was flawless. “Ruby, we’ve only just met. I don’t know why you’re targeting me. It’s not my fault I have a wealthy family and a handsome fiancé.” The students in the hallway immediately rushed to comfort her. Stella continued her saccharine act, and soon everyone was pointing fingers at me, calling me a bitter, jealous nobody. But I wasn’t angry. I was ecstatic. My phone had been buzzing non-stop. In just ten minutes, I had made over a hundred thousand dollars. My startup fund was 20% complete. Stella was my personal cash machine. And if she loved pretending to be Larry’s fiancée, why not bring Larry himself in on the scheme? I immediately sent Larry a text, telling him we needed to meet. I found him outside the campus dining hall. Our grandfathers were old war buddies, both highly decorated. They had come from nothing and believed in the value of hard work. To instill that same spirit in their descendants, they’d made a rule: all grandchildren had to earn their own way through college. And so, Larry and I had become a broke power couple. Our days were a blur of classes and part-time jobs—working shifts at a boba shop, handing out flyers, and running food delivery orders. We’d talked about starting a business, but we were still saving up for the initial investment. Over dinner, I told him everything: the Lie-to-Riches System, and Stella’s outrageous charade. He didn’t believe me. Not until I asked him if he had a secret stash of cash hidden somewhere. He shook his head, and my banking app instantly buzzed with a $10,000 deposit. Larry stared at my phone, then tearfully transferred the last $10 in his Venmo to me. “Larry,” I said, laying out my plan, “Stella is telling everyone she’s your fiancée. We can use this to fleece her. Once we have a million dollars for our startup, we’ll expose her!” His eyes lit up. A few days later, Freshman Orientation Week began. During a break, Larry showed up, handing out bubble tea to all the freshman groups. “Stella, your man is here!” a girl squealed, pushing her forward. “He must have come to see you!” The guys started hooting, waving Larry over. “Larry! Stella’s over here!” Stella shrank back, looking like she was about to faint. I smirked. “What’s wrong, Stella? Did you and Larry have a fight? He’s acting like he doesn’t even know you.” She swallowed hard, then practically shouted, “What are you talking about? Of course he knows me! Why else would he be here with bubble tea? He just hasn’t seen me yet! We were at a hotel together just last night!” Jenna immediately jumped to her defense. “Ruby, you’re sick! Why are you always hoping for the worst?” Other students chimed in. “Are you trying to steal her boyfriend? Even if they were fighting, Larry would never look at you!” “Everyone knows he’s a famously doting fiancé! He’s completely devoted to his childhood sweetheart!” I felt a wave of nausea, but the sweet scent of money quickly overpowered it. Stella was on a roll now, gushing about her fairy-tale romance. “He bought bubble tea for the entire school just for me. It’s his subtle, powerful way of showing his love. It’s a love you could never understand, Ruby.” She continued to spin her sickeningly sweet fantasy, and my phone vibrated relentlessly. Within minutes, another hundred thousand dollars had landed in my account. Just then, Larry started walking toward our group. Stella was pushed forward, stumbling right into his path. When Larry saw her, a flicker of disgust crossed his face. He exchanged a quick glance with me. “Sorry, guys,” he announced to the group. “Looks like we’re all out of bubble tea.” I snorted. “But Stella, I thought we were all getting free drinks on your account? How come the guest of honor doesn’t even get one?” Jenna looked confused. “Yeah, Stella, what’s going on? Didn’t you say he ordered this specially for you?” A few of the guys, sweating in the sun, started to complain. “I thought he was supposed to be this super-devoted fiancé! Why’s he letting you down like this?” Suddenly, Stella shoved me. Hard. I cried out, stumbling and falling to the ground. Across the field, I saw Larry tense, ready to run over. “What are you all staring at?” Stella snapped, her voice high and commanding. “Ruby, go buy us all water! My baby and I just decided that bubble tea is unhealthy. So, water for our group is on me!” The whole group cheered, immediately singing her praises. “Stella, you’re so thoughtful and generous!” A few of the guys turned on me. “Ruby, what are you waiting for? Get going!” “Are you deaf? Go! You want us to die of thirst?” BZZZ. Another $20,000. A thrill shot through me. I scrambled to my feet and ran to the campus Starbucks, ordering thirty iced coffees. I returned with the receipt and handed it to Stella with a fake smile. “Here you go. I’m sure a little bill like this is nothing to you, right?” A couple of girls scoffed. “Are you kidding, Ruby? As if someone like Stella would care about a few bucks.” “She’s from the countryside, what do you expect? So classless, making a big deal out of nothing.” “Right, Stella?” Stella took the receipt. Her eyes widened, and she looked like she’d just swallowed a bug. The total was nearly $200. “Right,” she said, her smile more pained than a grimace. “It’s nothing. I normally only drink glacial water flown in daily from overseas. It’s about a thousand dollars a bottle.” The group erupted in another round of cheers. When it came time to pay, there were tears in Stella’s eyes. Forking over that much money was like pulling teeth for her. I was secretly ecstatic. In just a few days, my startup fund was 40% complete! I had $400,000. Just a little longer, and I could finally expose her. Larry texted me: [Babe, are you okay? That psycho actually pushed you! I’ll get her back for this!]. On the last day of orientation, Larry deliberately let a rumor slip: that night, he was taking his fiancée home to the family estate for his grandfather’s birthday. After our last session, a group of girls swarmed Stella. “Stella, stop being so secretive! You’re going to the Vance estate tonight, aren’t you?” “We heard all about it! We’re so jealous!” Stella tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, affecting an air of nonchalance. “It’s not a secret. Going to the Vance estate for dinner is as normal as breathing for me. It’s nothing to talk about.” BZZZ. More money. The air filled with gasps of envy. I put on my best fake smile. “Stella, I’m so jealous! You must be staying the night, right? I won’t wait up for you, then.” Stella froze, the words catching in her throat. “Right. Don’t wait up. I’m staying over.” As soon as she said it, Jenna shot me a look of contempt. “Duh! Of course she’s staying over! Stop asking such stupid questions!” Someone else giggled suggestively. “If she’s staying at the Vance estate, maybe tonight they’ll… you know…” Stella pretended to blush, lowering her head, but the beads of sweat on her forehead gave away her panic. “Oh, stop it, you guys.” Larry’s revenge was swift and brutal. Of course, Stella didn’t go to the Vance estate. To keep up the lie, she left campus as her classmates watched her go, a vision of supposed glamour. But Ashton University was in the heart of the city, and the nearby hotels were ridiculously expensive. Stella was too cheap to pay for a room, but she was terrified of being spotted by other students at a park. According to one of the Vance family’s security guards, she ended up spending the night shivering under a remote overpass. The next day, she showed up to class with dark circles under her eyes, sneezing uncontrollably. The other students exchanged knowing, wicked smiles. Fighting back my disgust, I laid it on thick. “Stella, I heard the Vance family estate is a 7,000-square-foot mansion! It must be incredible! You’re so lucky. I’ve never even seen a mansion. Is your family home huge, too? Can you show us sometime? I’d love to see it!” The other girls’ eyes lit up. “Stella, we’ve never seen one either! Please! Let us come see it!” They pleaded, one of them even doing an exaggerated bow. Stella basked in the attention. But she was trapped. She touched the tip of her nose, looking troubled. “My family is… very private. Old money, you know. Very strict rules. My parents don’t allow me to bring strangers home.” BZZZ. $40,000! Everyone looked disappointed but understanding. But I wasn’t about to let her off the hook. “That’s okay!” I pressed on. “I saw in a news article that the Vance fiancée’s birthday is at the end of September. You could just invite us to your birthday party! I’m sure your parents wouldn’t mind that!” It was like a lightbulb went off over everyone’s heads. “Yes! We can celebrate with you! Your parents will totally understand!” “Stella, let us celebrate with you this year!” “You wouldn’t look down on us, would you, Miss Moss?” Stella looked like she was constipated. She finally forced the words out. “Fine. I’ll go home and discuss it with my family elders.” The room erupted in cheers. I almost cheered along with them. With that short exchange, on top of what I already had, my startup fund hit 80% completion! I was morbidly curious to see how she would squirm her way out of this one. That night, I got a call from our family’s estate manager. “Miss Lane, the student you sponsor has requested to hold her birthday party at the villa. Do you approve?” A slow, cold smile spread across my face. “Yes. Let her come.” The plan was working even better than I had imagined. A few days later, my earnings hit $900,000. The startup fund was 90% complete. The money was almost there. Soon, I would rip away Stella’s mask of lies and expose her for who she truly was.

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At my childhood friend’s wedding, just as the bride and groom were about to exchange rings, the bride suddenly snatched the microphone and turned to look directly at me. In an instant, a single, blinding spotlight swung from the altar and pinned me in my seat. Every head in the chapel turned. With all eyes on her, the bride, Sophia, walked slowly down the aisle until she stood before me. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and with a choked sob, she thrust her bouquet into my hands. “Amelia, please. I’m begging you.” “Ethan and I are married now. Please, have some sense of decency. Stop using the ‘just friends’ excuse to be so intimate with my husband, regardless of the time or place.” 1 A collective gasp swept through the guests. Those who didn’t know the situation were already shooting me looks of pure contempt. In the distance, I saw my mother’s face fall, her expression hardening like stone. Ethan’s face was even uglier than mine. He lunged forward, his brow furrowed as he tried to grab Sophia’s arm. “Sophia, are you insane? This is our wedding! What the hell are you doing?” She violently shook him off. The screech of microphone feedback pierced the air. Tears streaming down her face, she pulled out her phone. The screen showed Ethan’s social media profile. The background picture was their engagement photo. But the latest post was a picture of Ethan’s forearm, marked with a faint, old bite mark. The caption was what made it damning. “Getting married tomorrow, but I can’t forget you, or the mark you left on me.” “Look, everyone!” Sophia’s voice was a raw scream. “I’ve tolerated you being close with Amelia all this time!” “But to post this, right before our wedding, and set the privacy so only she could see it! Ethan, you tell me, what is this supposed to mean?” The color drained from Ethan’s face. Sophia shot me a cold, triumphant smirk. “Amelia! Since you need him so much, and since he’s so clearly obsessed with you, why didn’t you two just get together? Why keep that intimate bite mark as some kind of secret trophy? Are you both just playing me for a fool?” The stares of the guests felt like a thousand needles pricking my skin. I stood frozen, not out of shock, but out of sheer, dumbfounded exasperation. Me? Need Ethan? When have I ever needed Ethan? And that bite mark… what a joke. Until this very moment, I had always considered it a symbol of our mutual hatred. Ethan’s family and mine were next-door neighbors. Our mothers were best friends. By all accounts, we should have gotten along. But from the moment we could walk, he made it his mission to torment me. Tearing the ribbons from my hair and smearing mud on my dresses were his tamer tricks. The worst was when he threw my kitten into the deep end of his family’s pool and physically blocked me from getting help. I was so frantic, so utterly helpless, that I bit his arm with all the strength my small body could muster. That was over a decade ago. The fact that the scar is still visible is a testament to how viciously I bit him. It was also the day I started taking Muay Thai classes. After that, our dynamic shifted. I was the one pinning him to the ground until he finally learned to leave me alone. I’ve despised him my entire life. If it weren’t for our families’ history and the fact that his mother has always been kind to me, I wouldn’t have even shown up to this sham of a wedding. As for his social media post… Good lord. I had no idea. He’d always had a flair for overly dramatic, emo nonsense that polluted my timeline. I found it so annoying that I’d muted his profile years ago. With that thought, I opened my phone, navigated to my chat with Ethan, and turned the screen toward Sophia. The setting was clearly displayed: “Mute this person’s posts and stories.” Even our chat history was on silent mode. I scrolled through it. Aside from the occasional spammy link he’d sent, the most recent message was from last week—an invitation to his wedding. I hadn’t even bothered to reply. It was a pointless invitation. Given our families, my mother would have dragged me here by my hair if I’d refused. I took a deep, steadying breath. “I have no idea what kind of misunderstanding you two are having, but don’t you dare drag me into your mess to play the villain.” I shot a glare at Ethan, my jaw tight. “And for the record, that pathetic bite mark is from when he pushed me too far and I snapped! I wasn’t even in elementary school! God only knows why he’d post something so twisted about it.” Ethan, who had been trying to placate Sophia, froze. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a wounded, disbelieving expression. 2 Sophia’s hand, still holding the phone, hung in the air. A flash of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly doubled down, biting her lip. “But you can’t deny the inappropriate intimacy between you two!” “You spend all your time with a bunch of guys, acting like you’re one of them, but it’s all just a cover to stay attached to Ethan! There’s a limit to playing the ‘cool girl,’ Amelia! You have a fiancé, yet you’re still stringing my husband along. Have you no shame?” I let out a humorless laugh and looked at Ethan, who was now pretending to be part of the scenery. Just then, my friend Jake’s girlfriend, Chloe, spoke up with blunt honesty. “Sophia, are you sure you’re not mistaken? I’ve never seen Amelia act out of line.” Sophia faltered, turning her attack to Leo’s wife, Sarah. Sarah just smiled. “Sophia, you really have it all wrong. We’re all friends with Amelia because she’s a genuinely good person. She rarely organizes get-togethers; we’re always the ones begging her to come out.” “The building materials supplier my husband’s company needed? The design team for Jake’s new restaurant? The insider discount on Mark’s new car? That was all Amelia. She made those connections for us.” Leo tried to quiet his wife, but Sarah shot him a look that silenced him instantly. She glanced at Ethan, whose face was growing darker by the second, and added with a sly smile, “Amelia is the reason our group exists. Ethan has nothing to do with it. He only started hanging out with us because he’s her neighbor. We only put up with him for Amelia’s sake.” I silently gave Sarah a mental high-five. The truth was simple. We live in a small city. The business circle is tight. Our crew was solid, but the cornerstone, the one holding it all together, had always been me. My family made its fortune in renewable energy a few years back. I then started my own consulting firm and opened an exclusive bar, accumulating a network of high-profile clients. I became friends with Jake and Leo because our fathers knew each other, and we helped each other’s businesses grow. Ethan’s family ran a small construction supply business that had been failing for years; they were on the verge of bankruptcy. My mother, out of pity, had my father throw them a few contracts to stay afloat and insisted I include Ethan in my social circle. I was against it. I hold a grudge, and I’ve never forgotten the way he treated me as a child. But my mom’s relentless nagging wore me down, and I reluctantly let him tag along. I fixed my gaze on him. “What exactly were you trying to achieve with that post?” Ethan’s face turned the color of raw liver. His lips moved, but no words came out. Sophia’s expression soured, but she wasn’t ready to give up. “You’ve all been fooled by her! She’s just pretending to be above it all, showing off how successful she is to seduce men!” I frowned, my patience finally gone. It was her wedding day. I had been willing to let it slide, to endure the humiliation for the sake of peace. But she was pushing it, determined to smear my name. “Sophia, you need evidence to make accusations like that,” I said, my voice turning icy. “You’ve seen my chat history with Ethan. What more do you want?” She sneered. “If there’s nothing between you, why did he pour so much money into your bar? It’s a members-only club with a ridiculously high barrier to entry. As a woman running a place like that, you must have your methods for keeping wealthy clients around. Ethan recently dropped fifty grand on a membership. Are you going to tell me that’s not suspicious?” The venue fell silent. My mother, pale with rage, rushed to my side. “You say that one more time.” I gently pushed my mom back into her seat and stepped toward Sophia. “First of all, Ethan spending money at my bar is a normal business transaction. I didn’t force him.” 3 “And don’t you worry. I’ll have my manager refund every penny he hasn’t spent and post a notice at the entrance permanently banning him from the premises.” What a joke. My bar is a top-tier establishment that would hold its own in any major city. The renovations alone cost millions. My clientele consists of the city’s wealthiest and most influential people. Did she really think I needed Ethan’s chump change? Sophia froze, clearly not expecting me to be so decisive. “Even so, you can’t deny that you call him in the middle of the night! Why does he always rush out to meet you at ungodly hours?” “Last Wednesday, at two in the morning, he told me there was an emergency at your bar and ran out in his pajamas! Are you going to deny that you called him?” Her words even stunned me. I would never, ever contact Ethan. Besides, last Wednesday, my fiancé and I were on vacation out of state. As I was about to refute her, I caught a glimpse of panic in Ethan’s eyes. “Sophia, stop it! It’s all a misunderstanding! We can talk about this at home. Today is our wedding…” She ripped her arm from his grasp. “You need to tell me the truth right now! Is she the only one you love? Did you ever even want to marry me?” “Yes! I didn’t want to marry you!” Ethan suddenly roared, his composure shattering. He glanced at me, a wild, cornered look in his eyes. Sophia stared at him, her face a mask of disbelief. In the next second, all the color drained from her cheeks. “My stomach… it hurts…” Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in a dead faint. The scene erupted into chaos. Ethan, terrified, scooped her up and ran for the exit. My mother watched the pandemonium, her voice laced with worry. “Amelia, maybe we should go to the hospital, just to check…” I hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and we followed the ambulance. Outside the emergency room, Ethan was crouched against a wall, his face ashen. My mom tried to offer a few words of comfort to his mother, Wanda, but was met with a cold shoulder. My mom’s expression darkened, but before she could speak, the ER doors opened. A doctor emerged. “The patient is stable. The emotional distress caused a threatened miscarriage. She’ll need to be admitted for observation to ensure the pregnancy is safe.” Wanda’s face lit up with manic joy. She grilled the doctor, and after confirming Sophia was pregnant, she whirled on me, her eyes blazing with resentment. “Are you satisfied now, Amelia? If you hadn’t started a fight with Sophia at her own wedding, would she have almost lost my grandchild? You have a fiancé of your own, so why can’t you just leave my son alone?” She grew more agitated with every word. “Sophia was right! People need boundaries! If you don’t like my son, then stay away from him! Stop pretending to be his buddy while secretly seducing him, keeping one man on the hook while you look for another! You may have no shame, but we do!” “What nonsense are you spouting?” My mother stood up, her face a mixture of anger and disappointment. “Wanda, if I hadn’t convinced my husband to give your family business, you would have gone bankrupt years ago! And this is how you repay us? By slandering my daughter?” Wanda flinched, then changed her tone. “Amelia, dear, please. I’m begging you. You know my son’s… condition. The doctors all said it would be nearly impossible for him to have children. Now that Sophia is finally pregnant, that baby is our family’s lifeline! Just stay away from Ethan from now on, please!” “Mom! Stop it!” Ethan hissed, his face burning with humiliation at having his infertility broadcasted to the world. I scoffed and sent a quick text to my assistant, telling her to dig up Ethan’s recent movements and social media activity. I hadn’t called him in the middle of the night. Someone else had. And I wasn’t about to take the fall for it. 4 Just as I sent the message, Ethan approached me, hesitating. “Amelia, I know you’re innocent in all this, but… I’m finally going to be a father. This is so important to our family. For the sake of our childhood friendship, can you please just let this go? Don’t push her any further.” I rolled my eyes. “You should be thinking about what you did to make your wife so insecure in the first place.” He opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. I turned. It was my fiancé, Liam. For once, his calm demeanor was replaced by a hint of urgency. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, clearly having come straight from the office. His handsome face was cold as he came to my side, his gaze sharp and commanding. “I’d appreciate it if certain people would conduct themselves with a little more dignity and stay away from my fiancée,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And stop trying to blame her for your own messes.” Ethan flinched under Liam’s glare, a flicker of jealousy and fear in his eyes. After a tense moment, he turned and scurried back toward the ER. Liam watched him go, then gently smoothed my hair back, his tone softening. “Come on. I’m taking you and your mom home.” It was dark by the time we got back. I had just slipped off my shoes when my phone began buzzing relentlessly. It was my assistant. As I looked at the photos she sent, my eyes narrowed. So that’s why Sophia was so convinced I was the other woman. It was because… Before I could finish reading, a notification popped up on my screen. A trending local news post. “Boycott Local Socialite: Juggling Two Men and a Messy Private Life.” Someone had edited clips from the wedding, cutting out all context, making me look like the villain. The comment section was a cesspool of people calling me a manipulative “cool girl.” Thanks to the algorithm, I didn’t even have to search. A local livestream recommendation appeared. It was Sophia, broadcasting from her hospital bed. The title read: “The Price of Marrying a ‘Devoted’ Man: My Husband’s Affair with His ‘Best Friend’.” I clicked. She was propped up against the pillows, pale and red-eyed, weeping for the camera. “I’m pregnant with twins, and he’s still messing around with another woman. A woman who has her own fiancé but insists on calling my husband in the middle of the night…” The comments were a flood of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, sweetie!” “Girls like that are the absolute worst!” “I heard her family is like local royalty. They’re in business, and she owns some shady bar. What kind of decent woman runs a bar?” I laughed out loud at the absurdity. My mom saw it too, her hands trembling with rage. Liam wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t let them get to you.” I smirked. “Oh, I’m not angry. I should be thanking them for all this free publicity.” My company was about to launch a new product line. Free press is free press. Half an hour later, I started a livestream from my own account. As soon as I went live, a flood of viewers poured in—half to curse me out, half to watch the drama unfold. I sat in front of the camera with a calm smile. A moment later, a request to co-stream popped up. It was Sophia. I accepted immediately. Her pale, tear-streaked face appeared on the screen. “You really have no shame, do you? Broadcasting after all this,” she sneered. I raised an eyebrow and held up my phone. “I’d invite everyone to take a look at the new video I just posted on my account.” In the next second, the comment feed exploded.

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

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