Category: English

1 The day I caught Gideon cheating, my depression drove me to a rooftop edge. My sister Vivian stabbed him, dragging him to beg. Under her watch, he changed—deleting contacts, coming home on time, even reporting when he took out the trash. I thought our broken marriage was mending. Then a call came from my future self. The gaunt woman onscreen whispered, “Ten years on, and I’m still not healed?” She turned the camera: Gideon had Vivian pinned in a dusty utility room, eyes burning. “Ten years under the same roof, and you won’t let me touch you. How long will you punish me?” Vivian wept. “We betrayed Iris. Staying apart is our atonement.” Ice flooded my veins. The woman I’d hunted across Seattle was my own sister—hidden in plain sight for a decade. The future me leaned close, voice manic: “Hear them? While you breathe, everyone suffers. Die, and they’re free.” … I lowered my gaze, slowly picking up the paring knife on the table, tracing it against my chest. “Gideon is a neat freak. Why do you think he suddenly volunteers to take out the trash every single day? Did you really think your sister was staying here just to keep him in line for you?” “Don’t be stupid, Iris. Go check the blind spots of the estate. Those ten minutes of taking out the trash are the only moments they can escape you and have their own little world.” The front door clicked open. Gideon was back. Seeing the knife pressed against my chest, his face drained of all color. “Iris! What are you doing!” He didn’t even kick off his shoes, rushing toward me like a madman. The voice on the phone kept droning: “Look at his cuffs. He has such severe OCD. Look at him now.” Gideon’s obsession with order meant his sleeves were always folded up precisely three times, exposing his wrists. But right now, his cuffs were messy, and there was a faint smudge of lipstick near the hem. My gaze drifted past him, landing on my sister, whose makeup was slightly smudged. Clatter. My hands lost all strength, and the knife slipped, nearly piercing my thigh. Gideon stopped dead in his tracks, his hands hovering in the air, his voice trembling with caution: “Iris, put the knife down. Don’t hurt yourself.” I stared at his messy cuffs, my voice shaking violently: “Who is she?” Gideon froze, then quickly unlocked his phone, pulling up his GPS tracker to show me. “I just went to throw out the garbage, right downstairs. It wasn’t even ten minutes.” A deep, exhausted helplessness filled his eyes. “Iris, that happened three years ago. How much longer are you going to hold this over my head? I am exhausted from taking care of you every single day. Please, stop seeing ghosts everywhere.” He reached forward, trying to grab the knife. I swung the blade, stepping back. “Don’t touch me!” The edge sliced my palm, and blood welled up, dripping onto the hardwood floor. “Iris!” Vivian cried out, rushing forward to stop me. But in her haste, she tripped over her own feet, crashing hard against the side cabinet. “Vivian!” Gideon lunged toward her by instinct. But just before his hands reached her, he seemed to catch himself, freezing mid-air. Vivian stared at my bleeding hand, then swung her arm and slapped Gideon across the face. “Gideon! You’re pushing her again! Don’t you know she is sick!” The slap was incredibly hard, forcing his head to the side. He clenched his fists, struggling to rein in his brewing temper. When he turned back to me, the anger and resentment were entirely gone, replaced by the submissive, gentle husband I knew. “I’m sorry, Iris. I lost my temper. You’re bleeding. Let me patch you up.” He knelt before me, but his eyes were glued to Vivian’s reddening ankle. After quickly wrapping my hand, he naturally handed the medical kit to Vivian, his voice hoarse: “Put some ice on that.” Watching his quiet, agonizing restraint, I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted into the bedroom and locked the door. Three years ago, when I first caught him cheating, I had searched every hotel room in the city like a lunatic, yet failed to find even a single strand of that woman’s hair. In my despair, I stood on the edge of the rooftop. It was Vivian who stabbed him and dragged him to my feet to beg for mercy. That day, the proud, untouchable Gideon had knelt before me, crying like a child who had lost his entire world. “Iris, I beg of you, you can’t die.” That desperate plea had made me believe he actually loved me. But now, a single phone call from the future had shattered every illusion I ever held. 2 This wasn’t an office. It was a perfect, one-to-one replica of our master bedroom. The emerald-green velvet sofa, the floor lamp in the corner that Gideon had handpicked, even the fresh flowers on the coffee table were identical to the ones we had at home. The only difference was the wall where our wedding photo should have hung. Instead, it was covered in hundreds of photos of my sister. Vivian chopping vegetables in the kitchen, Vivian sleeping on the sofa… Every single photo was captured with breathtaking warmth, the soft lighting radiating a deep, drowning love that transcended the paper. My chest throbbed with a dull, physical ache. I remembered our honeymoon, how I had spent two hours putting on makeup, practically begging Gideon to take a photo of me. He had merely clicked the shutter with a bored sigh, leaving me with a blurry, stiff image. It turned out he didn’t hate taking photos. He had simply saved all his patience, his passion, and his devotion for Vivian. Footsteps echoed from the hallway. Startled, I scrambled inside the wardrobe. The door swung open. “Let go of me!” Vivian’s voice was thick with tears as she tried to wrench her hand from Gideon’s grip. But Gideon held on like a man possessed, pulling her tightly against his chest. “Vivian, I can’t do this anymore! When she held that knife today, all I could think was… if she actually plunged it in, would we finally be free?” Vivian slapped him hard. “You monster! She is your wife!” “But I don’t love her!” Gideon’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice dripping with despair. “You have no idea how suffocating it is to lie next to her every single night. Vivian, let me just confess to her. If she lets me go, I’ll give her every single dime I own!” “No!” Vivian cried out, completely broken. “If you tell her now, you will drive her to her grave!” Gideon buried his face in the crook of her neck, begging like a drowning man. “Then what about me? You pity her, but who is going to pity me?” Vivian sobbed, her heart breaking. “When we were ten, she pushed me out of the way of a speeding truck. I swore I would protect her with my life, yet I fell in love with her husband. And when you crossed the wrong people for that business deal, she was the one who got cornered in that dark parking garage for you… If it weren’t for us, Iris would never have gotten sick. How can we do this to her?” Gideon trembled, kissing the tears from her face. Inside the wardrobe, my nails dug deep into the fresh cut on my palm. The wound reopened, warm blood flowing freely, but I couldn’t feel a thing. So that was it. How tragically beautiful. One was sacrificing her love to repay a childhood debt, while the other endured his guilt for the sake of his beloved. But in their grand, dramatic tragedy, what did that make me? After what felt like an eternity, the room fell silent. I crept out of the wardrobe, my legs shaking as I walked out of the office building. The freezing winter wind whipped against my face, drying my tears. I suddenly remembered the day Gideon had thrown the divorce papers at me, ready to give up his entire fortune just to leave. But then, he abruptly stopped mentioning it. It wasn’t because he wanted to stay. He was just terrified of carrying the guilt of my death, terrified that Vivian would never forgive herself. Since their love was so agonizing, I decided to set them free. I pulled out my phone and dialed my lawyer with numb fingers. “Mr. Reynolds, I need you to draft a divorce agreement. As quickly as possible.” The line went quiet for a long moment. The lawyer’s voice held a note of profound confusion, almost pity. “Mrs. Lockwood, are you playing a prank on me?” “What do you mean?” “There is no record of your marriage in the system,” the lawyer explained gently. “On paper, Iris, you are completely single.” 3 I stood on the icy street, the world spinning around me. So, Gideon had given me a diamond ring, a grand wedding, and impeccable daily care, but he had kept his legal registry completely empty, reserved solely for my sister. Even in our farce of a marriage, he was keeping himself pure for Vivian. A laugh tore from my throat, tears spilling over. Yet, clinging to one final shred of hope, I dialed the future number again. “I want to know,” I whispered. “Even for a single second, did he ever love me?” Silence stretched over the line. “Go to the VIP wing of the city hospital right now,” the future me said softly. “You’ll realize how pathetic that question is.” Like a ghost, I drifted into the hospital lobby. Through the glass window of a private room, I saw Vivian. She had apparently suffered an acute bout of gastroenteritis and was dry-heaving. And Gideon, the man who couldn’t tolerate a single speck of dirt, was wiping the vomit from the corner of her mouth with his bare hands. Watching them through the glass, my tears fell silently. Six months ago, when I threw up in the middle of the night due to my medication’s side effects, what had he done? He had recoiled to the doorway, his face twisted in disgust as he called the maid to clean it up. Then he spent an hour in the shower, washing himself three times, never once coming back to check on me as I gasped for air. But with Vivian, his rules of cleanliness simply didn’t exist. Gideon walked out of the room holding a basin. Seeing me, he slammed the door shut behind him. His gaze dropped to my bare feet and my purple, frozen lips. The hostility in his eyes softened, and he quickly wrapped his heavy wool coat around my shoulders. “Are you insane? Running out in the middle of the night dressed like this? Do you want to kill yourself?” Even now, he was still playing the role of the dutiful, protective husband. I looked at him, my voice eerily calm. “She’s in there, isn’t she?” Gideon’s face darkened, his grip on my arm tightening. “It’s an important client. You’re having an episode, Iris. Let’s get you home.” I shoved him back with all my strength, throwing the door open and rushing in. “Iris!” Gideon roared in panic. The person on the bed shrieked, pulling the blanket over her head to hide. I reached for the edge of the sheet. I knew that with one tug, I could rip away their mask, but my hand froze. Even at this point, I wanted them to admit it themselves. Under Gideon’s terrified gaze, I pulled a small penknife from my pocket and pointed it at my chest. “Gideon, pull that sheet back and tell me who she is. Or watch me die right here. Your choice.” Gideon didn’t move. The last trace of patience faded from his eyes. “Iris, do you really think threatening me with your life still works? For three years, whenever things don’t go your way, you threaten suicide. Don’t you get tired of playing this little game?” A game. So every single cry for help, every moment I was on the verge of collapsing, was nothing more than a cheap theatrical performance to him. The last spark of hope in my heart went out. I let out a soft chuckle and drove the knife down toward my chest. Gideon’s face contorted in sheer terror. “Don’t you dare touch her!” He didn’t even see where the blade was pointed. He lunged forward, kicking me squarely in the stomach. I flew back, crashing heavily onto the cold floor. A sharp, blinding pain flared in my lower abdomen. But I didn’t cry. I just watched as he threw his arms around the trembling figure on the bed, shielding her from me like a rabid beast protecting its mate. He thought I was going to hurt her, so he didn’t hesitate to use deadly force against me. At that moment, I was just so incredibly tired. “Gideon, the game is over. Let’s get divorced.” His shock lasted barely three seconds before transforming into a bitter sneer. “Stop testing me, Iris. If you actually wanted a divorce, you would have left years ago.” “This time, I mean it—” Before I could finish, the trembling figure on the bed lost her balance, tumbling off the mattress and crashing into the shattered glass of a broken vase on the floor. An muffled cry of pain echoed from beneath the blanket. Gideon’s face drained of color. He scooped her up in his arms, entirely ignoring me. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Let’s get a doctor.” I lay on the freezing tiles, watching a dark, terrifying crimson pool spread beneath me.

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1 My next-door neighbor was going out of town for a week and asked me to check on her eighty-year-old mother every day. I was just about to agree when several lines of glowing text drifted across my vision. [Don’t agree under any circumstances! The old lady passed away days ago, but the neighbor is keeping it a secret.] [She is waiting for you to walk in so she can pin the entire thing on you.] [The old lady’s bank account is missing twenty thousand dollars. She will claim you stole that too.] [A fresh college graduate, framed for manslaughter and grand theft. Your dream job will be ruined because of this.] The neighbor pressed the keys into my palm. “I’m counting on you, Naomi.” I took a step back, my hands turning cold. “I’m so sorry, Brenda, but I have to go out of town for work too.” Brenda froze. “Why?” The warm smile on her face stiffened. I gripped the phone in my pocket, my fingertips icy. “It’s a last-minute assignment from my company. There’s nothing I can do.” “Wait, Naomi, listen to me.” Brenda took a step closer, her voice growing urgent. “My boss specifically arranged this business trip for me. I can’t get out of it. You have to help me.” “I’m sorry, Brenda. My trip is already set in stone. I really can’t help.” My mind was in complete chaos as I spoke. We had been neighbors for a year, and Brenda had always been incredibly kind to me. When I first moved in and didn’t even have my kitchen set up, she brought over a plate of hot, homemade dumplings. When it rained while I was at work, she gathered the laundry drying on my balcony, folding it neatly and leaving it by my door. When I had a terrible fever, I called her at two in the morning, and she drove me to the emergency room without a single complaint, staying with me until dawn. I couldn’t understand. Why would someone who had been so good to me want to ruin my life? The glowing text continued to drift before my eyes. [Stop overthinking it. She was only nice to you because you were useful to her.] [Think back. Every single time she did you a favor, didn’t she casually mention that you should go check on her mother?] A cold dread washed over me. It was true. Every time she brought me food, helped with a package, or brought in my laundry, she would always smile and add, “My mom is home alone. If you have some free time, go keep her company for a bit.” For an entire year, I had gone to her apartment every two or three days to wash dishes, sweep the floors, and chat with her mother. [See? You were just a free nanny. She used a few cheap meals to secure a whole year of free labor.] My back felt cold. Brenda was still pushing. “Naomi, it’s just one week. Five days, even. Can’t you push your trip back?” “I can’t, Brenda. I really can’t.” She stared at me for a long moment, then suddenly pulled out her phone. A notification pinged on my screen. It was a transfer of one thousand dollars. “Take this,” Brenda said quickly. “Just help me look after her for a week, please?” [The calculations are brilliant. A thousand dollars to cover up a twenty-thousand-dollar theft.] [Do not accept the money! If you take it, you are officially in her trap. She will claim you took the money and didn’t do the job, or accuse you of stealing even more.] [Stand your ground. Do not give in.] I tapped my screen and declined the transfer. “I don’t want the money, Brenda. I really can’t do it. Why don’t you hire a professional caregiver? Or perhaps look into a temporary senior care facility?” “How could I trust a stranger?” her voice suddenly rose, sharp and defensive. “A caregiver wouldn’t look after my mother properly, and things would go missing from the apartment. You are the only one I trust, Naomi.” “But I genuinely do not have the time.” “You!” She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing. “Naomi, let me ask you one last time. Are you really going to refuse to help me?” “I have no choice, Brenda.” Her expression darkened. “Fine. I see what kind of person you are now. I was always so good to you. I brought you food, saved your laundry, and drove you to the hospital in the middle of the night. Now, when I ask for one simple favor, you turn your back on me? I wasted my kindness on a leech.” 2 Her voice echoed down the hallway. The door to apartment 602 opened, and Mrs. Gable stuck her head out. “What’s going on? What’s all the noise about?” Brenda’s face immediately shifted, twisting into an expression of helpless grief. “Mrs. Gable, I’m begging Naomi to help watch my mother for just a week because I have to travel for work. She refuses to help, and she’s lying about having her own business trip.” Mrs. Gable frowned, looking at me with disapproval. “Naomi, Brenda has been incredibly good to you. We’ve all seen it. How can you be so ungrateful? She’s helped you so many times, and you can’t return one favor?” “Exactly,” Mr. Henderson from 603 said, stepping out of his apartment. “Young people need to understand gratitude. Brenda has looked after you plenty of times, hasn’t she?” I opened my mouth to defend myself. “No, I really have to—” “A business trip? Who are you kidding?” Brenda interrupted with a cold laugh. “You usually spend your weekends locked in your apartment, and now you suddenly have a business trip? Nobody believes that.” A suffocating frustration pressed against my chest. These people only saw the few bowls of soup she had brought me. None of them saw the dishes I had washed, the floors I had swept, or the hours I had spent keeping her mother company over the past year. I clenched my fists. “Brenda, find someone else. I cannot help you.” I turned to walk back into my apartment. “Don’t you dare walk away!” Brenda yelled behind me. “I’m going to call your company right now and ask if there’s actually a business trip.” She dialed a number on speakerphone, right in front of Mrs. Gable and Mr. Henderson. “Hello, is this the human resources department? I’m Naomi’s neighbor. I wanted to verify if she has an urgent business trip scheduled for this week?” I couldn’t hear the exact response from the receiver, but I saw the slow, triumphant curl of Brenda’s lips. She hung up the phone and turned to face me, looking like a hunter who had finally cornered her prey. “Your HR department says there is absolutely no business trip scheduled for you. You lied to me, Naomi.” The hallway fell into a tense silence. Mrs. Gable shook her head. “How can a young girl lie like that?” Mr. Henderson sighed. “If you don’t want to help, just say so. There’s no need to make up stories.” “I…” “You just don’t care!” Brenda stepped forward, grabbing my wrist so tightly her nails dug into my skin. “I treated you like family, and this is how you repay me?” I yanked my arm back. “Don’t touch me, Brenda.” “Touch you? I’d dirty my hands touching an ungrateful leech like you!” Several other doors along the corridor opened as more neighbors peered out to watch the spectacle. My face burned with humiliation. “Brenda, I told you, I cannot help you. Find someone else.” “Who am I supposed to find? My mother is eighty years old, and I have to leave for a week! What am I supposed to do?” “Hire a nanny, call your relatives, or use a care service.” “Easy for you to say!” I took a deep breath and chose to remain silent. I pulled out my keys, unlocked my door, stepped inside, and locked it behind me. Outside, Brenda began banging furiously on the wood. “Naomi! Open this door!” “Why are you hiding? Do you feel guilty?” “You ungrateful wretch! I did so much for you, and you treat me like this?” I leaned against the door, closing my eyes. My mind was racing, the glowing text echoing in my thoughts. [The old lady passed away days ago.] [She is waiting for you to walk in so she can frame you for the death.] [The security camera will show that only you entered the apartment.] [They will accuse you of stealing twenty thousand dollars.] I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. Was the mother really dead? I didn’t know if it was from illness or something worse, but one thing was certain. When Brenda asked me to watch her mother, the old lady was already gone. I pulled out my phone and dialed the police. “Hello, I’d like to report a situation. I suspect the elderly resident in apartment 601 has passed away, and her family has not reported it.” 3 The dispatcher paused for a second. “What is the address, please?” “Maplewood Apartments, Building B, Apartment 602. The target apartment is next door, 601.” “Understood. We will dispatch officers to the scene. Please keep your line open.” After hanging up, I opened my phone. The neighborhood group chat was already in an uproar. Brenda had posted a long message. [@All Neighbors, please look at this. I asked my neighbor, Naomi, to help watch my elderly mother for a week while I travel for work. Not only did she refuse, but she also lied about a business trip. I’ve always been so good to her, bringing her food, helping her, and even driving her to the hospital in the middle of the night. This is how she repays me. What an ungrateful leech!] Attached were three images. The first was a clear photo of my ID card. The second was my phone number. The third was a photo of my front door, showing my exact apartment number. [This is her information. Everyone should know what kind of person she is.] My blood ran cold. Within minutes, dozens of messages flooded the chat. “This is terrible.” “While helping is optional, Brenda really did look after her.” “Young people these days have no sense of gratitude.” “Is it really okay to post her personal ID like that?” “She brought it on herself. Anyone would be furious.” Then, stranger requests started popping up on my personal account. The first message I accepted read, “Are you the ungrateful leech from the group chat?” Another unknown number called. The moment I answered, a voice screamed, “Why don’t you go jump off a bridge?” I hung up, took screenshots of every single message, and saved them. More glowing text flashed before me. [Stay strong. Once the police arrive, the truth will come out.] [Don’t be afraid. She is the one who should be terrified.] [You are doing everything right. Keep the records, call the police, and wait.] I set my phone down, then picked it up again, my palms slick with sweat. The banging on my door continued. “Naomi! Are you going to open this door or not?” “Fine, you don’t have to watch her.” Her voice had shifted from rage to a cold, calculated tone. “I have to leave, and my mother will be left unattended. This is your fault. Since you won’t help, you will pay for her professional care.” “Ten thousand dollars.” “Give me ten thousand dollars so I can hire a service, and we’ll call it even.” I almost laughed at the sheer absurdity. Ten thousand dollars? [She is desperate.] [Ignore her. Keep the door locked and wait for the police.] I gritted my teeth, remaining silent. “Naomi, did you hear me?” “Ten thousand dollars. Consider it repayment for the favors I did you this past year. The food, the laundry, the gas money for the hospital, it all adds up to more than that anyway.” “Why aren’t you speaking? Are you feeling guilty?” I walked quietly to the door and looked through the peephole. Brenda was standing there, her arms crossed over her chest. About five minutes later, two figures in police uniforms appeared in the corridor. I unlocked the door and stepped out. Brenda sneered when she saw me. “Oh, so you finally decided to show your face?” I ignored her completely and addressed the two officers. “Officers, I have reason to believe the elderly woman in apartment 601 has passed away.”

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1 It was day three hundred of my captivity under John Porter, the brilliantly unhinged billionaire, when a car crash wiped his memory. His personal secretary, upon finding me in the basement wearing solid gold ankle cuffs, practically shrieked in terror. He threw a cool hundred million dollars and a private jet my way just to keep me quiet: “The Porter Group’s global offices are yours to command, ma’am. Just please, for the love of God, don’t call the police!” So, I happily spent the next three years flying around the world. But the moment I set foot back in the country, I ran straight into my former captor at the airport. Before panic could even set in, his eyes drifted right past me. Just as I let out a breath of relief, a black sack was shoved over my head the second I walked out of the terminal. When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at a very familiar, floor-to-ceiling glass wine cellar. Right next to it was a handwritten note in sharp, elegant cursive: “Little bird, it was love at first sight. I will give you the world, on one condition: stay by my side.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Even with amnesia, this man still had a type, and apparently, it was still me. I ended up laughing anyway. John, that beautiful psycho, had fully restocked the wine cellar. The last time I was here, I had drunk my way through his 1982 Lafite collection, leaving only three bottles. Now, the wall was packed to the brim. I even spotted a bottle of 1947 Cheval Blanc, a legendary vintage that had vanished after failing to sell at auction years ago. Next to the rack, a note was taped to the glass. His handwriting, sharp and pressing into the paper, read: “Don’t even think about running. Be a good girl and wait for me to come home.” A dry chuckle escaped my throat. I was actually amused. Three hundred days of being locked up by a madman, only for him to lose his memory in an accident. His panicked secretary handed me a fortune and a private jet just to keep the cops out of it. I spent three years living the high life across the globe, yet within three hours of landing back home, I was bagged, tagged, and brought right back to this gilded cage. I didn’t need three guesses to know who ordered this. Accepting my fate, I walked over to the cellar, pulled out the ’47 Cheval Blanc, and began searching for a corkscrew. If I was going to miss my welcome-home dinner because of a kidnapping, I might as well enjoy the finest wine on earth. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A sharp, grating voice shattered the silence. I turned around. A woman dressed in high fashion, perched on red-soled Louboutins, stood at the double doors. She glared at me, her chin tilted so high she was practically looking down her nose. Her eyes treated me like a piece of absolute trash. “Did you hear me?” she snapped, her brow furrowing. “I heard you,” I replied, slowly working the cork. “You asked what I’m doing.” “John is my fiancé. Our families are finalizing the alliance.” She stepped into the room, a smug, triumphant smile playing on her lips. “The match was handpicked by his grandmother, Mrs. Porter herself. Who do you think you are, lounging in this villa and touching his private reserve?” Ah. A match arranged by his family. No wonder she was acting like she owned the place. But accusing me of seduction? That was just uncalled for. I was the victim here. Before I could explain, she kept going. “If you know what’s good for you, take a check and get out. Touch what doesn’t belong to you, and you’ll find out how painful life can get.” I agreed instantly. “Deal. Let me out, and I’ll be gone before you can count to three.” I had millions in the bank and a jet waiting at the hangar. The world was huge, and there was plenty of good wine out there. But my cooperation only seemed to make Bianca furious. She slammed her hand against the glass of the wine cellar. “Leave? You wish. You crawl into his bed, and now you think you can just walk away?” “Kneel,” she demanded, drawing out the word. “Apologize. Right now, in front of the entire staff. Bow your head three times.” The smile faded from my face. I wasn’t angry, just a bit sorry for her. “About the kneeling…” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I wouldn’t push it if I were you. It won’t end well.” “Oh? And why is that?” I looked at her with pure, honest concern. “Because he will lose his mind.” “Who?” “John,” I sighed. “He’s obsessed with me. Pathologically so. The last time a chauffeur looked at me for a second too long, he disappeared the next day. His very name was wiped from the payroll.” “So, if you force me to kneel, and he comes home to see that…” I let the threat hang. “I honestly don’t want to think about what he’ll do to you. I’m telling you this for your own good.” Bianca stared at me in disbelief, then burst into a harsh, mocking laugh. “He’d lose his mind over you?” She laughed so hard her expensive jewelry clinked, her sharp nails nearly poking my cheek. “Look at yourself. Who do you think you are?” I kept quiet, letting a tiny, undeniable spark of anticipation settle in my chest. Meanwhile, the housekeepers standing near the door turned pale. One of them quietly slipped away, pulling out a phone and whispering urgently: “Mr. Harrison, you need to get back here right now. There’s going to be a bloodbath!” Bianca took my silence as submission. Her arrogance swelled, and she waved over two burly bodyguards. “Since she won’t kneel on her own,” she said, her tone as casual as ordering a salad, “make her.” “Break her legs if you have to. No one is going to miss a piece of trash like her.” The guards stepped forward, grabbing my shoulders with a grip that made me wince. I didn’t bother fighting back. They were professionals, and struggle was pointless. Besides, I caught the terrified look on the housekeeper’s face. The person on the other end of the line had clearly issued a severe warning. I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. “At least you’re smart enough not to struggle,” Bianca sneered, pacing around me as the guards forced me down. “Recognize your place yet?” “Listen to me. If you behave, maybe I’ll throw some pocket change your way after this so you can buy some dignity on your way out.” The guards pressed down, forcing my knees toward the cold marble floor. My knees hit the stone with a dull, painful thud. It hurt. I had spent three hundred days in the basement of this very house; I could handle a little physical pain. What truly amused me was Bianca’s increasingly dramatic performance. “Tell me,” she demanded, looking down at me. “How did you seduce my fiancé? Give me every detail. Leave one thing out, and my men will add another bruise.” I looked up, my expression perfectly flat. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” “Spit it out!” “Fine,” I said, my voice as dry as a financial report. “He kept me locked in the basement of this villa for three hundred days.” “He went through three different sets of ankle chains. The first was too heavy and chafed my skin, which broke his heart, so he replaced them with custom, velvet-lined gold cuffs.” “He hand-fed me every single meal. If I refused to eat, he would stay until he coaxed every bite down. When I said I wanted a drink, he moved his entire collection of vintage Lafite down to the cellar for me.” Bianca’s sneer flickered. I kept going, taking my time with each word. “Then he got into a car crash and forgot who I was. When his assistant found me, the poor man almost had a stroke. He bribed me with a hundred million dollars and a private jet just to keep me from calling the cops.” “So,” I looked her dead in the eye, “does that sound like seduction to you?” Her face went pale, then flushed with anger. But she quickly clung back to her pride. “What a ridiculous fairy tale. John Porter would never lower himself to do those things for someone like you.” “You’re just taking advantage of his amnesia to spin some wild fantasy!” I smiled. I really, truly wanted to laugh. Amnesia. So she knew about his memory loss. Then she must also know that during his recovery, the Porter family was an absolute circus, with every social climber and self-proclaimed fiancée trying to claim a piece of him. I had been back in the country for barely three hours before I was thrown into a sack. I knew exactly who had put me there. “I’ll give you one last piece of advice,” I said, my voice softening with genuine pity. “Walk out of that door before he gets home. You still have time.” “Otherwise…” “Otherwise what?” Bianca shrieked. She raised her hand, aiming a vicious slap at my face. “You cheap little…” A hand clamped onto her wrist, stopping her mid-air with enough force to turn her fingers white. Bianca gasped in pain, turning to yell, “Which idiot dares to… Thomas? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with John?” Thomas, the personal secretary, looked at me kneeling on the floor, his face drained of color. “Miss Bianca, let her go! Please! If the boss finds out you made her kneel, he will destroy us all!” But before he could even reach me, Bianca’s guards blocked him. “Are you in league with this trash, Thomas?” she sneered. “No wonder she had the nerve to slip into his bed!” Thomas looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Miss Bianca, Mrs. Porter chose you, and I respect that. But this woman… the boss has been tearing the world apart looking for her for three long years. You cannot touch her.” “Three years?” Bianca scoffed. “Since his accident, he’s mistaken a dozen women for someone else. Why would she be any different?” “Because…” Thomas stammered, unable to speak the unspeakable truths of John’s obsession. “You’re just a glorified errand boy,” Bianca said, her chin tilting up again. “The match was blessed by Mrs. Porter. Why don’t you go complain to her? If she gave me her blessing, who are you to tell me no?” Thomas shut his mouth, defeated. He was just an employee, after all. Bianca had the matriarch’s backing, and he couldn’t override that authority. He looked at me with a helpless, pleading expression that said, I can’t stop her, please just hang in there. I sighed, offering Bianca one last olive branch. “Miss Bianca, you should listen to the secretary. While you still can.” “Shut up, you bitch! How dare you threaten me!” Bianca snapped, breaking free and striking me across the face with a resounding slap. Thomas looked as if he had just watched a bomb go off. “Miss Bianca… you struck her.” “So what if I did?” “The boss cannot stand to see a single scratch on her!” Thomas’s voice was shaking. “Last time a driver merely stared at her, the boss personally broke his…” He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence. “You have no idea what he will do when he gets back.” The sheer terror in the room only seemed to feed Bianca’s spite. “You’re trying to scare me too?” she hissed, glaring at Thomas. “I wouldn’t dare lie to you…” “Then shut up.” She snatched a heavy metal baton from one of the bodyguards’ belts, her eyes flashing with malice. “I want to see exactly how crazy he gets for her.” Seeing that she was beyond reason, Thomas backed away, frantically pulling out his phone and dialing. “Sir! Wherever you are, you need to come back right now! Miss Bianca is going to hurt the lady you brought back, and I can’t stop her!” A heavy silence hung over the line for a fraction of a second. Then came a voice, low, icy, and so sharp it cut through the room even from several feet away. “Who gave her permission to touch what is mine?” A loud crack followed, the sound of plastic and glass being crushed under immense pressure. Thomas’s face went completely grey. He lowered his phone, his knees trembling. “The boss… he just crushed his phone. He said for no one to touch you, and that he’s on his way.” He looked at me like I was a saint who could save his soul, and then looked at Bianca like she was already in a coffin. For the first time, Bianca’s confidence wavered, but only for a second. “Bluffing,” she spat, though her grip on the baton tightened. “Who knows what’s true from before his accident. Even if he comes back, I am the woman his mother chose. Would he really destroy his own family for a mistress?” “He would,” I said softly. “What did you say?” “I said, he would.” I swirled the wine in my glass. “Believe me or not. You’ll find out soon enough.” My calm demeanor pushed her over the edge. “Hold her down,” she ordered, thrusting the baton into a guard’s hand. “Beat her until she begs.” “Miss Bianca! No!” Thomas threw himself to the ground, crawling to block the guard. “He’s been searching for her for three years!” “During his recovery, he locked himself in that basement every single day! He searched every flight manifest, every vineyard, every customs record across the globe just to find her!” “If you touch her, someone is going to die today!” The servants in the room dropped to their knees, trembling like autumn leaves in a storm. The collective terror in the room was louder than any warning. Bianca’s hand shook, the weight of their fear finally registering. “Are you all… insane?” she stammered, looking around. “Frightened of a common whore?” No one dared to answer. I spoke up, my voice quiet but cutting through the silence. “Every single thing you do to me right now will be returned to you tenfold when he walks through that door. He doesn’t forgive.” Bianca stared at me, her chest heaving. Finally, pushed to the brink of madness, she threw the baton aside and reached into her designer bag, pulling out a small, gleaming utility knife. “A beating is too good for you,” she whispered, her eyes shining with a frantic, unstable light. “John loves this face of yours? Let’s see how much he loves it when I slice it open.” “Let’s see if he still loses his mind for a monster.” Thomas shrieked, “Miss Bianca! Stop!” Outside, the violent, screeching sound of tires tearing asphalt shattered the air. Bianca didn’t stop. If anything, the sound of his arrival made her panic, driving her to finish what she started before he could walk through the door. “Hold her! Don’t let her move!” she screamed. The two guards clamped their hands around my jaw, forcing my head back. The cold, silver tip of the blade drifted inches from my cheek. “Let me go now, and I won’t tell him,” I said, keeping my voice perfectly steady. “Your last chance.” “Too late,” Bianca whispered, leaning in close, her breath cold against my skin. “I’ll only ruin half. I want to leave enough so he knows exactly what you used to look like.” “He’ll be devastated,” she laughed. “It’ll be beautiful.” The moment the cold metal touched my skin, a strong, pale hand reached from behind, gripping her wrist with the force of an iron vice. Bianca cried out as her bones groaned under the pressure, the utility knife clattering to the marble floor. John stood behind her. He wore a dark tailored suit, looking disheveled, his tie loosened, his eyes shot through with exhaustion. But those eyes were colder than a winter grave, sending a physical chill through the room. He didn’t look at Bianca. He stepped past her, dropping to his knees in front of me. His hands, trembling slightly, cradled my face, his fingers tracing my skin with agonizing gentleness. He was checking to make sure the blade hadn’t left a mark. Once he was sure I was untouched, his chest heaved, his breathing ragged. “Does it hurt?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “She slapped me,” I said calmly. “And she tried to ruin my face.” John’s grip on my jaw tightened ever so slightly, his knuckles turning white. He stood up slowly, turning his gaze to Bianca. The words that left his lips made everyone’s heart stop cold: “Then I will make sure her entire family begs for death.” With a single look, Bianca’s legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor.

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I have a terrible temper. My brother is the only person in the world who can tolerate it. Everyone around us laughs at him, calling him an obsessively doting fool with a massive sister complex. But he always shrugs it off with absolute pride. “She’s my little sister. What’s wrong with spoiling her a bit?” But one day, my brother changed. He suddenly drew a sharp line between us, avoiding me at every turn. When I blocked his car in the middle of the street, he wouldn’t even roll down the window to look at me. His voice came through the glass, flat and distant. “David, it’s time you learned to grow up.” I thought my brother didn’t want me anymore. Until I caught him drunk, locked inside his room, sobbing in the dark. “System, how much longer until the real son comes back?” “Can I really not be good to my David anymore?” A mechanical voice replied, dripping with exasperated frustration. “Get it through your head. They are the actual blood siblings. You’re just an imposter. Can you please wake up?” Listening from outside the door, the corners of my mouth slowly curled into a smile. So, my brother and I aren’t related at all. 1 I knew from a very young age that I wasn’t normal. When I was five years old, some relatives were teasing me at a family dinner. They pointed to the dish of stewed meat on the table and claimed it was the pet rabbit I had been raising. They laughed, their faces twisted with cruel amusement. “Well? You raised it yourself. Doesn’t it taste delicious?” I remained silent for a moment. Then, I picked up the boiling kettle from the side table and poured the scalding water directly over the hand of my uncle, the one laughing the loudest. The skin on his hand turned instantly white. Cooked. As the scent of scalded flesh rose alongside his pig-like shrieks of agony, I blinked innocently. “That’s your right hand, the one that grew up with you. Why don’t you taste it and tell me if it’s delicious?” The dining room erupted into utter chaos. Amidst the frantic shouting of relatives branding me a monster, my father, blind with rage, grabbed a heavy wooden cane to strike me. But the blow never landed on me. My brother had thrown himself over my body, taking the hit. His face was pale, his eyelashes trembling with pain. Yet, he carefully pulled a small, snowy-white ball from his coat. “David,” he whispered, his voice incredibly soft and soothing. “Don’t worry. Your rabbit is alive. I found him in the storage room.” “As long as I’m here, nothing will happen to you or your rabbit.” “I promise.” My brother was nine years old that year. He silently took a brutal beating for me. In the middle of the night, my mother wept as she applied ointment to his bruised back. “Your father wasn’t even trying to hit you. Why did you have to interfere?” “David is a psychopath. Who throws boiling water on an elder over a simple joke?” My brother shook his head, his expression dead serious. “It wasn’t a joke. It would have broken her heart.” I stood outside his door, listening in the shadows. The dark, violent urge that had flared up inside me because of my mother’s harsh words was miraculously put to rest by the gentle sound of his voice. In the dozen years that followed, my temper grew more unpredictable and volatile. My parents looked at me with a mixture of fear and disgust. Only my brother, Ashton, behaved like a stubborn, single-minded machine, firmly believing that I was a fragile little sister who needed his constant protection. He tolerated every single one of my flaws. He even fought with our parents for my sake. “If you had given David a normal, loving environment to grow up in, she wouldn’t be like this! My sister has always been the sweetest girl!” His friends couldn’t stand it. “We’ve seen overprotective brothers, but you’re just living in denial, Ashton.” “Is there any chance your sister is actually the opposite of sweet?” “If you keep enabling her like this, something terrible is going to happen.” Ashton only countered with absolute confidence. “David is my sister. What’s wrong with spoiling her?” 2 During my senior year of high school, Ashton, who had skipped two grades, graduated from university and began taking over the family business. He was drowning in work, yet he made it a point to drive to my school every single afternoon to pick me up. One day, the school bully tried to corner me to confess his love. I ended up beating him until he fell in line, and he ended up carrying my backpack to the car like a loyal servant. As the car door clicked shut, the interior fell into a dim silence. Ashton adjusted his cuffs, asking in a gentle tone, “David, are you dating someone?” I shook my head, chewing on a strawberry he had just fed me. “Good. It’s better not to focus on that right now. Your senior year is the most critical time.” He spoke softly, almost to himself. “I don’t mean to interfere in your life, but this stage is very important. Besides, that boy who carried your bag earlier, he wasn’t very pleasant to look at. You should keep your distance from him.” Ashton’s personality had always been incredibly mild. This was the first time I had ever heard him use such a sharp, critical word to describe someone else. I bit into the tip of the strawberry, quietly studying him. His hair had grown a bit long, falling in soft, messy strands across his forehead. His eyes were wide and luminous, like still water. Because of his corporate meetings, he was dressed in a tailored suit, but he still looked as harmless and soft as a white cloud. I had always known my brother was beautiful. His skin was as fair as delicate porcelain, and the tips of his ears and knuckles carried a faint, rosy tint. When he tilted his head, his soft hair brushed against his neck, revealing the faint blue veins beneath his skin. He looked a lot like the pet rabbit I used to have. The rabbit had died when I was eight. I hadn’t shed a single tear while burying it, but Ashton had stood beside me, crying his eyes out. When I asked him why he was crying, he said, “David, I know you’re hurting. You just don’t know how to express it normally.” A strange, familiar warmth bubbled up in my chest. Staring at the delicate pulse in his neck, I asked with a touch of anxiety, “Ashton, will you be my brother forever?” He answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course.” But he lied to me. 3 Just before my twentieth birthday, I realized Ashton was actively avoiding me. My parents had washed their hands of me long ago, so it was Ashton who had moved me into my university dorm. On his very first day in the city, he bought an apartment right next to the campus. “This way, you don’t have to worry about getting used to dorm life or dealing with difficult roommates.” He thought of everything. In reality, I had already learned how to mask my behavior perfectly over the years, knowing exactly how to make people trust and like me. But I liked the feeling of being shielded by him, so I simply nodded and agreed. My mother was right about one thing. I was a monster. My entire existence was like a thousand invisible threads wrapped tightly around Ashton. As long as he stayed still, I would remain docile and quiet. But the moment he tried to break free, those threads would cut into his flesh, binding us together forever. My brother belonged to me, and me alone. That was a truth that had been rooted in my mind since childhood. Apart from the days when my schedule was packed with classes, I spent almost every night at the apartment. Ashton would usually buy groceries and come home before sunset to cook for me. But on this particular afternoon, I unlocked the door to find a cold, empty dark living room. I checked my phone. It wasn’t unusual for him to be delayed by urgent corporate meetings, but he always sent me a detailed text beforehand. Today, my notification bar was entirely blank. Our last chat was from three days ago, when I had sent a brief message: I’m out of pads. He had never replied. I dialed his secretary’s number. “Where is my brother?” The secretary stammered, offering vague excuses. I let out a soft laugh. “Should we discuss this in person instead?” The man was terrified of me. Hearing the tone of my voice, he hesitated for only a fraction of a second before cracking. “Mr. Hale isn’t avoiding you on purpose. He has an important charity gala tonight, and a major contract to finalize.” “The fact that you are the one explaining this to me proves he is avoiding me on purpose,” I said flatly. The secretary fell silent, not daring to speak. I hung up, grabbed my keys, and drove toward the venue. As I drove, the sun began to set, painting the horizon in a violent, fiery crimson. For some reason, my mind drifted back to a memory from several years ago. I was fourteen. My mother had taken advantage of Ashton’s study-abroad trip to lock me away in a strict behavioral modification school. By the time Ashton rushed back to rescue me, I had already set the main building on fire. “David!” He had held me so tightly his entire body was shaking worse than mine. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Actually, I hadn’t been scared at all. But wrapped in his warm, trembling embrace, a single tear had escaped my eye. I had blinked it away, mimicking the pathetic, fragile tone of a normal girl. “Ashton, you have to protect me.” “I will. I promise you, nothing like this will ever happen again.” I had smiled, thoroughly satisfied. Through the dancing flames, I saw my mother cowering behind the police cars, staring at me as if I were a demon incarnate. “Ashton! She isn’t your sister, she’s a monster!” she had screamed hysterically. “She started the fire! She’s only fourteen and she’s already doing this! If we don’t lock her up for rehabilitation, she’ll destroy us all!” Ashton hadn’t even looked back at her. He lifted me into his arms, his voice colder than ice. “She doesn’t need discipline. She needs love.” I had pressed my face against his chest, inhaling his clean, comforting scent. It was different from anyone else’s. He was supposed to go back to his studies abroad, but after that day, he changed his plans entirely. He stayed in the country for college, took over the family firm early, and refused to leave my side for more than forty-eight hours. He even accompanied me on my high school graduation trip. So why was he suddenly attending business dinners without telling me? 4 I parked my car across from the grand entrance of the venue. After a few minutes, a familiar black luxury sedan pulled up to the valet. The window rolled down, revealing Ashton’s strikingly handsome, pale face. He gave a polite nod to the security guard, handing over his invitation. Over the years, he had learned how to project a cold, commanding authority in public. But the soft, yielding, and gentle sides of him were reserved for me alone. Seeing him eased the tension in my chest. I smiled, preparing to step out of my car. But then, the rear passenger window rolled down. A beautiful woman leaned slightly forward, her lips curved into an elegant smile. Her fingers, resting casually against the car door, were long and slender. And on her middle finger sat a simple white-gold band, identical to the one I wore. 5 My mind went completely blank, a loud ringing filling my ears. My fingers instinctively moved to trace the middle finger of my own hand, where an identical white-gold band rested. It was the gift I had made him pick out with me on my eighteenth birthday. I remembered his friend asking him in disbelief after we bought them, “Ashton, do you actually know what a ring on the middle finger represents? You guys are siblings!” Ashton had simply given him a puzzled look. “David wanted it. Why wouldn’t I listen to her?” His friend had been left entirely speechless. Now, looking across the street, I watched Ashton step out of the car. As he adjusted his cuffs, his bare fingers were fully visible. He had taken the ring off. The ring he had promised me he would never remove. I pushed my car door open and walked toward him. 6 “Ashton.” He froze at the sound of my voice. He didn’t turn around, keeping his back to me as he spoke in a muffled, strained voice. “David? Why are you here? Go home.” His broad shoulders under the tailored suit were incredibly rigid. Because he refused to face me, I had to crane my neck to catch the tight, strained line of his jaw. He was running from me. Before I could say anything else, the woman from the car walked over, her silk dress rustling. She brushed a stray curl past her shoulder, offering a warm smile. “So this is David? Your sister?” “Yes,” Ashton muttered. “Since she’s here, why don’t we bring her inside to grab a bite?” She offered her hand to me, the white-gold ring on her finger catching the streetlights, sending a sharp stab of irritation through my chest. Before my hand could move, Ashton suddenly spun around and slapped her hand down. “She can’t go in,” he said, his brow furrowing with a strange, nervous tension. He remained silent for several seconds before looking at me. “David, go back to the apartment. I’ll have Arthur order some takeout for you. I’m going to be very busy for the next few weeks, so I won’t be able to come home. Take care of yourself.” Without waiting for my response, he turned and walked briskly into the banquet hall. The woman lingered for a second, looking at me with an amused glint in her eyes. She pulled a pen from her clutch, scribbling a number on a card before handing it to me. “Don’t be sad. If you want to see your brother, call me anytime.” Sad? I climbed back into my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. In the rearview mirror, my lips were bitten raw, bleeding slightly. In the quiet, confined space, a flood of dark, chaotic emotions rushed through me. It wasn’t sadness. It was a violent, suffocating possessiveness. Anger. And a dark, thrilling excitement. Had Ashton finally realized what a monster I was? Was he trying to run away from me because of it? Did that mean… I finally had a reason to lock him away in my apartment, so he could never leave my side again? 7 When I got back to the apartment, it was pitch black. Ashton hadn’t been home in three days, and even his scent on the pillows had faded. I decided to head back to the university dorms. My roommates were surprised to see me. “David! You don’t have any classes for the next two days. Aren’t you spending the weekend with your brother?” I tilted my head, offering a rare, slight smile. “I missed you guys. Is that a crime?” Three pairs of eyes stared at me in absolute shock. “Just kidding.” I tossed my bag onto my desk and opened my laptop. My roommate, Harper, walked over to offer me some fruit, but her eyes froze when she caught sight of my screen. “David… what is that?” I turned to look at her. “What’s wrong?” “Did… did someone make you mad?” I rested my chin in my hand, thinking about it seriously. “Not exactly. My brother is just being difficult.” Harper’s voice dropped to a nervous whisper. “David, look, I don’t mean anything by this, but we live in a civilized society. If someone’s bothering you, you can talk to them. Or you can have your brother handle it, right? Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.” I stared into her eyes, completely serious. “What if the person who made me angry is my brother?” “Haha, no way. Your brother is the king of overprotective siblings. We’ve only met him a few times and we could tell he worships the ground you walk on.” She paused, swallowing hard as she looked back at the search results for industrial-grade locks on my screen. “Wait… you’re not planning on using those on him, are you?”

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1 I possess an ability I can never speak of out loud. Whenever I get intimate with my girlfriend, I can see exactly what she was doing one hour prior. In the past, the visions were always sweet. I would see her secretly buying lingerie to surprise me. I would see her standing in the kitchen, carefully following a recipe to make my favorite chicken noodle soup from scratch. Sometimes, I would see her standing in front of a mirror, nervously adjusting her dress and practicing how she was going to propose to me. We have been in love for seven years, and for seven years, her past hour had always revolved around me. Until three days before our wedding. When she leaned in to kiss me, a scene suddenly flashed before my eyes. In a dimly lit lounge, she had my best friend, Declan, pinned against the door. Declan turned his head, his voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “We can’t keep doing this!” “Adam is my best buddy. I can’t do this to him…” Annie reached down and undid his belt, her voice incredibly husky. “I am marrying him in three days.” “Let’s just treat this as one last wild indulgence.” The image vanished as quickly as it came. In reality, Annie was still resting in my arms, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Adam, we are getting married so soon.” “Are you happy?” I looked into her deeply affectionate eyes and let out a quiet, hollow laugh. So, after all these years, a third person had finally appeared in her hour. … After she spoke, she leaned down to kiss me again. Her lips brushed against my face, the gesture just as tender as it had been countless times before. It even carried a hint of that lingering, pre-wedding romance. But my entire body went rigid. The next second, another vision flashed before my eyes. Declan’s dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. A faint smudge of lipstick was smeared near the corner of his mouth. He was leaning against Annie, chuckling low in his chest. “Adam is way too skinny.” “I went with him to his tuxedo fitting yesterday, and I swear, his shoulders and chest couldn’t even fill out the jacket.” Annie let out a soft laugh. “He is too thin.” “Every time I hug him, it feels like holding a bag of bones.” Declan immediately frowned, pretending to defend my honor. “How can you say that about him?” “Adam is my best friend.” But right after he said it, he shifted his body closer to hers, his tone laced with blatant provocation. “What about me, then?” “How is my physique? Do I feel good when you hold me?” Annie did not answer. Instead, her hand, which was resting against his skin, slowly tightened its grip. That silence was more deafening than any answer she could have given. Declan laughed. “Forget it. I won’t fight Adam for you.” “He has been waiting for you for seven years. It’s actually kind of pathetic.” The vision violently snapped shut. In the present, Annie was still holding me. A freezing knot twisted in my stomach, and I finally could not stomach it anymore. I pushed her away. Caught off guard, Annie stumbled a half-step back. She frowned, looking at me with concern. “Adam?” “What is wrong?” I raised a hand, pressing it against my chest, and shook my head. My face was already pale as a sheet. Just then, the sound of the digital keypad echoing from the front door broke the silence. A second later, the door was pushed open from the outside. Declan walked in wearing nothing but a pair of athletic shorts. A faint, woody cologne drifted off him. It was the exact same sandalwood and cedar scent Annie wore. He smiled effortlessly. “Adam, man, my water heater just completely died on me.” “Figured since you guys live so close, I would come over and borrow your shower.” I stared at him. For the first time in our friendship, my face was entirely devoid of warmth. “Declan, do you really think it is appropriate to walk into my house dressed like that?” Declan froze. Quickly, he ducked his head and offered a sheepish laugh. “My bad.” “I spent so much time living over in Europe, I guess I stopped paying attention to boundaries like that.” Annie stepped right in front of him, practically shielding him from my gaze. “Adam, come on. Declan lived abroad for years. He is just used to being casual.” “He doesn’t mean anything by it. Stop overthinking it.” Watching her instinctively protect him, I found the whole situation utterly laughable. Of course I knew Declan had lived in Europe. Because I was the one who paid to send him there. Back then, he could not afford his first year of tuition. I emptied my savings account, taking every dime I had scraped together for two years, and wired it all to him. On the day he left for the airport, Declan hugged me so hard I could barely breathe. “Adam, you are the best brother I could ever ask for.” “When I get back, I am absolutely going to be your best man.” Later on, Annie frequently flew overseas for business trips. I had specifically pulled her aside and begged her for a favor. “Declan is all alone over there. He doesn’t know the language or the city.” “When you have some free time, could you check on him for me?” Back then, Annie just ruffled my hair and laughed, calling me too soft-hearted. I laughed with her. I honestly thought their only connection was through me. But eventually, every time Annie flew to that city, she went out of her way to see him. At first, she would send me photos to check in. “The grocery stores near Declan’s campus close so early. I brought him some supplies.” “Declan is really stressed about his thesis. I’m taking him out to dinner.” But as time went on, Annie began appearing frequently on Declan’s social media. She dragged his luggage for him. She sat with him in waiting rooms at the clinic. Even on his graduation day, the person standing right next to him in his photos was Annie. It wasn’t that I never felt a twinge of discomfort. But every single time, I reminded myself that Declan was my best buddy. And Annie was only looking out for him because she loved me. It was only now that I finally understood. Boundaries are never crossed overnight. It happens one small step at a time. Declan was still standing in the entryway, his expression neutral. “Adam, if it bothers you that much, I will just leave right now.” He said he would leave, but his feet remained firmly planted on the hardwood floor. Annie frowned deeply. “It is already so late, and your water heater is broken. Where else are you going to shower?” “Just go wash up.” I did not say another word. My eyes simply dropped to Declan’s wrist. He was wearing a luxury watch. A few days ago, I had stumbled across the receipt for it in Annie’s home office. The price tag was more than ten times the cost of the wedding band she had bought for me. At the time, I assumed it was a surprise wedding gift Annie had prepared for me. I had been secretly anticipating it for days. I even imagined how happy I would be when she strapped it onto my wrist on our wedding day. But now, that watch was resting on Declan’s wrist. I looked down at the wedding band on my own hand. It was simple, unadorned, and very cheap. When Annie first slipped it onto my finger, she said, “A ring doesn’t have to be expensive. It is the meaning behind it that matters.” I had been genuinely moved for a very long time. I thought she just wasn’t the romantic type. I thought she valued meaning over materialism. Now I knew the truth. The meaning, it seemed, depended entirely on who was receiving the gift. Declan kept his head down and walked into the living room. As he brushed past me, the smell of that cologne hit me even harder. My fingers slowly curled into tight fists. Yet he acted as if everything was perfectly normal, striding toward our master bathroom with the confidence of someone who lived here. Annie opened a cabinet and pulled out a brand-new bath towel, handing it to him. It was one of the matching towels I had just bought for our married life. A grey and white set. I had planned for us to use them together for the first time after the wedding. Declan took it without a second thought. “You always pay attention to the details.” “Adam really trained you well.” Annie’s tone was incredibly soft, whispering a gentle reminder to him. “Be careful. The floor gets slippery.” Once the bathroom door clicked shut, the sound of running water started immediately. Standing in the middle of the living room, I suddenly felt like an intruder in my own home. This was supposed to be the home Annie and I built for our future. Yet Declan knew the door code. He walked in half-naked. He used the towels I bought for my wedding. He wore the watch I thought was meant for me. And Annie didn’t find a single thing wrong with any of it. She even walked over to me, acting as if she finally had a spare moment to soothe my temper. “Adam, don’t read into it.” “You and Declan are so close. I only take care of him because of how much he means to you.” I did not look up. After a long, suffocating silence, I simply offered a quiet, “Okay.” Annie let out a visible sigh of relief. She probably thought I had been successfully pacified. The sound of the shower echoed from down the hall. I walked into our bedroom and shut the door behind me. My phone lit up. It was a message from our wedding planner. “Mr. Davis, we need your final approval on the welcome posters for the reception tonight.” I looked down and began typing. “Change the name.” The planner replied almost instantly. “Mr. Davis, do you mean the groom’s name on the poster?” I pulled the corner of my mouth into a bitter smile and typed out my response, word by word. “Yes.” “Change the groom to Declan.” The next morning, when I walked out of the bedroom, breakfast was already set on the dining table. Annie was standing near the kitchen island, the sleeves of her blouse rolled up. She looked completely unfazed, as if last night never happened. “You’re up?” “Did you sleep well?” I stared at the glass of warmed milk on the table, my mind drifting for a split second. I had always suffered from stomach issues. Annie would always take the milk out of the fridge half an hour early to warm it up. She always said that drinking it too hot would hurt my stomach, and drinking it too cold would do the same. Back then, I always thought to myself, if someone remembers the exact temperature you like your milk, how could they not love you? Now, she still remembered these tiny details. But I could no longer tell the difference. Was it love? Or was it just a habit she had formed over seven years? Annie pushed a velvet watch box across the table toward me. “I saw you staring at Declan’s watch last night.” “My Adam deserves a decent watch, too.” She spoke with such tenderness, her eyes overflowing with what looked like genuine affection. I glanced at the watch. It wasn’t the same luxury brand as Declan’s. The design was similar. But the price tag was drastically lower. Annie walked up behind me and began adjusting my shirt collar. She tilted her head up. The moment her soft lips brushed against the back of my neck, a violent flash of imagery ripped through my mind. The bright, blinding lights of a jewelry store. Declan was sitting at the display counter. A watch was resting in front of him. It was the exact same watch Annie was handing me right now. Declan picked it up and strapped it onto his wrist. He stared at it in the mirror for a few seconds before frowning. “It is too plain. The dial is too small, and the metal strap scratches my wrist.” “I don’t want it.” He unbuckled it and casually tossed it back onto the glass counter. But Annie didn’t let the sales associate put it away. She stared at the watch for a moment before speaking in a flat tone. “Box it up.” Declan paused, then smirked. “Giving it to Adam?” Annie gave a vague hum of agreement. “He was sulking last night. I’ll buy a watch to shut him up.” Declan immediately frowned, playing the part of the concerned friend perfectly. “Don’t just brush him off like that.” “Adam is my best friend, you know.” Annie let out a small laugh. “He won’t care.” “As long as I give it to him, he will love it.” Declan picked the watch back up, dangling it from his fingertips. “True.” “Adam was never a picky guy.” “Back in the day, whenever I mailed him my old, worn-out suits, he would happily wear them to the office.” In the vision, Annie did not argue. She simply handed her credit card to the cashier. My breathing hitched in my chest. During Declan’s first few years abroad, he constantly complained about not having enough money to survive. Terrified he was starving in a foreign country, I lived on instant ramen just to wire him extra cash. I refused to buy myself new clothes. Every now and then, Declan would mail me designer jackets he had outgrown or gotten bored of. I never once complained. I thought that was just how brothers looked out for each other. Only now did I finally understand. I had simply been conditioned to accept the things Declan threw away. The vision faded. The cold metal of the watch was already clasped around my wrist. Annie leaned close to my ear, her breath warm and intimate. “Do you like it?” I unbuckled the watch, placed it back in the velvet box, and spoke very softly. “The metal strap scratches my wrist.” Annie froze. She probably couldn’t fathom how I had just spoken the exact same words as Declan. But she quickly chalked my reaction up to a bad mood. She likely assumed I was still throwing a jealous fit over last night. She reached out and patted my shoulder. “The wedding is in two days.” “Don’t make yourself miserable.” I looked down and smiled. She thought I was unhappy because I was jealous. But she had no idea. I didn’t even have the energy left to be jealous. My phone lit up on the table. It was a text from the wedding planner. “Mr. Davis, we need to finalize the schedule for the ceremony tonight.” “Are there any additional segments you would like to include?” I stared at the glowing text on the screen. After a long moment, I typed my reply. “Yes.” “Right before the ceremony officially begins, I want to add a segment where I read my vows.” On the day of the wedding, I arrived at the luxury hotel venue as scheduled. While the stylist was adjusting my tuxedo, she smiled brightly. “You look incredibly handsome today, Mr. Davis.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I really did look like a groom full of hope, ready to marry the love of his life. But I was the only one who knew the truth. Today’s wedding wasn’t about marrying Annie. It was about delivering her and Declan the ultimate gift. When the stylist picked up my necktie, her hands suddenly stopped. “Mr. Davis, this tie…” I glanced over. The edge of the tie was crumpled. And near the top, there was a faint, unmistakable smudge of lipstick. My fingers curled into a brutal, white-knuckled fist. That tie was sewn for me by my mother on her deathbed, stitch by agonizing stitch. She had been completely emaciated by the illness. She could barely hold the needle. Her hands shook violently with every movement. But she propped herself up in that hospital bed for an entire month. She carefully wove the intricate dark patterns and tiny silver threads into the lining of the fabric. She told me, “I probably won’t live to see my Adam get married.” “So let this tie walk down the aisle with you instead of me.” “When you put it on, just imagine your mother is holding your hand.” After my mother passed, I kept the tie locked in a pristine box. I barely even dared to touch it, afraid of ruining it. I had sent it to the hotel in advance. I even specifically warned the hotel staff to keep it in a secure, isolated garment bag. But now, it was wrinkled. And stained with someone else’s lipstick. The stylist looked incredibly uncomfortable. “Would you like me to try and treat the stain for you?” I stared at that piercing speck of red. After what felt like an eternity, I slowly shook my head. “No.” “Just leave it as it is.” The door swung open, and Annie walked in. She was wearing a stunning white bridal gown. Her makeup was flawless, her expression radiating warmth. If my eyes hadn’t been violently forced open to the truth. In this exact moment, my heart probably still would have skipped a beat. Annie stood behind me, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Adam.” “You look so handsome today.” She reached out and adjusted the knot of my tie. With eyes full of deep longing, she cupped my face and leaned in for a kiss. The moment our breaths mingled. My vision plunged into darkness. In the vision, it was a bridal suite. Declan was leaning against the vanity. His dress shirt was entirely unbuttoned, and a smear of lipstick coated his mouth. My mother’s tie was draped loosely around his neck. Annie was looking down, fixing the collar of his shirt. “Annie, are you out of your mind?” Declan’s voice was low and heavy. “In less than an hour, you are walking down the aisle to marry Adam.” Annie looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. “That is exactly why this has to be the last time.” Declan stayed quiet for a moment. “You say it is the last time every single time.” “But every time you see me, you just can’t keep your hands off.” Annie didn’t argue. Instead, she frantically reached for the buckle of his belt. As their bodies crashed together, she yanked the tie off his neck and blindly tossed it onto the sofa. One of the buttons on Declan’s shirt caught the edge of the fabric. A piece of the silver thread snapped, unraveling a small section. I stood paralyzed, rooted to the floor. In that split second, the last remaining pillar holding my sanity together completely shattered. They both knew. They both knew my dying mother had sewn that tie for me. On the day my mother passed away, both Annie and Declan were standing right by her hospital bed. Reduced to nothing but skin and bones, my mother had grabbed Annie’s hand and pleaded through tears. “I won’t be able to see my boy get married. Please, promise me you will love him enough for the both of us.” Annie had nodded with total conviction. “Don’t worry.” “I swear I will never let Adam suffer.” Declan had stood right beside her, his voice choking with emotion. “I promise you.” “I will always be there for Adam.” “On the day he gets married, I will watch over him for you.” But look at them now. One was my bride. The other was my best friend. And mere minutes before the wedding, they had crumpled and desecrated the last thing my mother ever gave me, just so they could do something so sickeningly vile. The vision violently cut out. In reality, Annie was still smoothing out the fabric of the tie. Outside the door, the MC knocked gently. “Annie, Mr. Davis, the ceremony is starting.” Annie reached her hand out to me. “Let’s go.” I stared at her outstretched hand. It was slender and clean. Years ago, when I was burning with a terrible fever, that exact hand had stayed up all night, swapping out cold towels on my forehead. But today, that hand had just finished buttoning Declan’s shirt. She had taken every ounce of devotion I ever gave her and crushed it into a pathetic joke. I placed my hand in hers. Annie led me out into the hallway. The grand double doors of the banquet hall slowly swung open. On stage, the MC smiled brightly at the crowd. “Before we officially begin the ceremony, the groom has specifically requested a moment to share his vows.” “Let’s all listen to what he has to say to his beautiful bride.” Annie turned her head, a flash of genuine surprise in her eyes. “When did you add this?” I smiled. “Last night.” I reached into the inner pocket of my tuxedo jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Down in the front row, Declan was sitting confidently in his tailored suit, looking up at me with a perfectly calm expression. He probably thought the wedding was going to go exactly as they planned. But neither of them knew. The speech I prepared. Was never about love. It was about ripping their reputations to shreds. Under the watchful eyes of Annie’s family and every person we knew, I slowly brought the microphone to my lips. “I want to thank Annie, and my absolute best friend, Declan.”

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1 On my wedding day, my fiancé’s secretary drenched my parents in red wine. Right there on the red carpet, my father’s hairpiece was knocked askew, my mother’s designer gown was soaked to the skin, and a wave of snickers rippled through the high-society guests. Furious, I gathered the heavy skirts of my wedding dress and stormed into the bridal suite, only to find Thomas gently wiping the wine stains from Tavi’s hands. “It was just an accident,” he said, his voice casual and indifferent. He didn’t even bother to look up at me. “Don’t be so petty.” I stared at his hand, wrapped protectively around Tavi’s wrist, and a sudden, sharp laugh escaped my throat. “Thomas, the wedding is off.” He finally raised his head. “Ann, stop making a scene.” “Do you even realize what day it is?” I looked at him, then at Tavi, who stood shivering behind him with tears pooling in her eyes. She was wearing her bridesmaid dress, shrinking back as if she were a defenseless victim. “I’m so sorry,” Tavi whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s all my fault. I only wanted to help your parents adjust their clothes before the ceremony, but I lost my footing.” “So,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “you’re saying my parents deserved to be covered in Cabernet, and we should thank you for your thoughtfulness?” Tavi’s face drained of color. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Thomas stepped in front of her, shielding her further. “Ann, do you have to be so venomous? Tavi already apologized. What more do you want?” I stared at the man I had loved for seven years. I used to think I knew him better than anyone. Now, he felt like a total stranger. Outside that door were hundreds of guests and my humiliated parents. Inside, my fiancé and his secretary were playing the roles of the noble protector and the damsel in distress. “What do I want?” I repeated, taking a slow step toward him. “Thomas, you know my father has a weak heart. You know how much my mother values her dignity. Today, they stood in front of the entire city, taking the brunt of everyone’s mockery for our sake. And you, my groom, are in here comforting the person who did it.” My voice didn’t tremble. It was flat, cold, and entirely hollow. Thomas shifted uncomfortably. “I told you, she didn’t do it on purpose. I’ve already sent my assistant to handle the situation. I’ll go explain things to your parents in a minute.” Explain? With what? His silver tongue? Was he going to patch up my parents’ shattered dignity with a few empty words? A wave of exhaustion washed over me. Every single time, it was the same excuse. She’s just my assistant, Ann, don’t overthink it. She’s trying to make it in the city all on her own, it’s only right that we look out for her. Yes, she had it so hard. So hard that she could call him away in the middle of our anniversary dinners. So hard that she could buy the exact same matching couple’s sweaters we owned and claim they were company uniforms. So hard that she could completely ruin our wedding day. Because I loved him, I was expected to be gracious, understanding, and silent. But why? I reached behind my back and began aggressively tearing at the laces of my wedding dress. The custom, six-figure gown I had spent three months perfecting was ripped open with brutal force. Thomas’s eyes widened in shock. “Ann, have you lost your mind?!” He lunged forward to stop me, but I stepped aside. The heavy silk slid off my body, pooling on the dusty floor in a ruined, crumpled heap of white. It looked exactly like the wreckage of our seven years together. I stood before him in nothing but a simple silk slip. The air conditioning in the suite was blasting, but I didn’t feel the cold. When your heart is dead, the chill can’t reach you anymore. “Thomas, we’re done.” I threw those words at him, turned on my heel, and walked out. Tavi’s gasp and Thomas’s angry shouts were cut short as the heavy door slammed shut behind me. Barefoot, I walked down the freezing tiled corridor, leaving that golden cage behind. When I reached the grand ballroom, I saw my parents. The coordinator had ushered them into a quiet corner. My mother was frantically dabbing at my father’s face with wet napkins. My father’s shoulders were hunched, his usual proud posture entirely gone. The lingering glances of the remaining guests cut through us like knives. I walked over, slipped off my blazer, and draped it over my mother’s damp shoulders. “Dad, Mom,” I said, my throat tight. “Let’s go home.” My mother looked up, seeing me in my slip, and her eyes welled with fresh tears. “Ann, sweetheart, what about the…” My father pushed himself up from the table, his lips trembling, unable to find his words. I didn’t explain. I simply took their hands, and with my spine perfectly straight, I led them out of the venue under the suffocating silence of the room. Behind us, Thomas’s voice echoed through the lobby. “Ann! Stop right there!” There was a rare note of panic in his shout. I didn’t pause. I didn’t look back. Neither did my parents. We left that grand farce of a wedding behind without a single backward glance. The moment we stepped inside our house, my mother collapsed onto the couch, sobbing uncontrollably. My father sat in his armchair, lighting one cigarette after another, filling the living room with a thick, gray haze. I knew he was trying to use the nicotine to suppress the chest pain and his surging blood pressure. I didn’t cry. The tears had dried up the moment I walked out of that hotel. I went to my bedroom, pulled out my phone, and methodically blocked Thomas on every single platform. Contacts, social media, messaging apps, everything. In ten minutes, I erased seven years of history. Once that was done, I called my assistant. “Book me the earliest flight out of the country, anywhere will do. Also, list my penthouse at Starlight Heights for sale immediately. Price it to sell fast.” The penthouse was the wedding gift Thomas had bought me, situated right across from his corporate headquarters. He had told me he wanted to look out his office window and see my light on every night. Now, the memory tasted like ash. My assistant gasped on the other end of the line. “Boss, did you and Mr. Montgomery…” “We broke up.” I hung up, and a profound, quiet stillness settled over the room. That night, my father’s blood pressure spiked to a dangerous high, and we had to rush him to the hospital. Standing by his bedside, watching his fragile, sleeping form, the very last trace of affection I had for Thomas vanished. Thomas didn’t call. He probably assumed I was just throwing a tantrum, throwing a fit until I eventually crawled back to him like I always did. After all, that had been our dynamic for seven years. The next morning, a text from an unknown number lit up my screen. Ann, enough is enough. Come home. Stop making us the laughingstock of the city. Even now, his priority wasn’t me or my family. It was his precious reputation. I blocked the number immediately. On the third day, his mother, Mrs. Montgomery, called. Her tone carried its usual condescending warmth. “Ann, darling, I know you’re hurt. But you know Thomas. He’s a workaholic, he treats everyone with the same professional intensity. I’ve met Tavi, she’s a sweet, simple girl, not the conniving type you’re making her out to be. Don’t lower yourself to her level. Thomas was wrong about the wedding, and I’ve already given him a piece of my mind. Come back home, and let’s sit down as a family to discuss this.” Family? I let out a cold laugh. “Mrs. Montgomery, you seem to be mistaken. The moment I walked out of that hotel, we ceased to be family. Do not call me again. My father is in the hospital, and I have absolutely no patience left for your family.” I cut the call. Finally, the world was quiet. I spent the next week at the hospital until my father’s condition stabilized. During those seven days, Thomas made no attempt to reach out. I figured he was furious, angry that I had dared to bruise his ego. Good. A clean break was the best outcome I could hope for. On the day of my father’s discharge, the real estate agent called. “Ms. Ann, we have an offer on the penthouse. The buyer is willing to pay above asking price, but they have one condition. They want to meet you in person to finalize the paperwork.” Though surprised, I agreed to the meeting. We scheduled it for the following afternoon at the penthouse. I arrived early. Walking through the front door, the apartment was exactly as I had left it. Our framed engagement photo still sat prominently on the console table in the entryway, both of us smiling radiantly. I walked over, picked up the frame, and dropped it directly into the trash can. At three o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Thomas standing on the threshold. He had lost weight, a dark shadow of stubble covered his jaw, and his expensive designer suit was noticeably wrinkled. He looked uncharacteristically disheveled. When his eyes met mine, they softened with a complicated mix of emotions. “Ann,” he rasped. I leaned against the doorframe, my expression completely blank. “You’re the buyer?” He nodded, taking a step forward to enter. I extended my arm, blocking his path. “Mr. Montgomery, we aren’t on those terms. You can inspect the property, but please respect my boundaries.” Thomas froze, staring at me. “Ann, do you really have to be like this? Seven years of love, thrown away over one minor mishap?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “A minor mishap? In your world, what qualifies as a major issue, Thomas? Do my parents have to die of a heart attack, or do I have to jump off this balcony before you think it’s serious?” The words hit him like a physical blow. His face went pale. “I didn’t mean it like that! Ann, I know I messed up. Just forgive me this once, please?” He reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped back, letting his fingers grasp empty air. “It’s too late, Thomas. The moment you chose to protect Tavi over my family, it was over.” I turned back into the apartment and pulled a folder from the coffee table. “Here is the deed and the sale contract. I’ve already signed my portion. The price is standard market value, transfer the funds to this account. I’ll have all my belongings cleared out within three days.” I pressed the folder against his chest. “Sign it if there are no objections. Don’t waste my time.” Thomas didn’t take the folder. He just stared at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Ann, how can you be this heartless? You threw away the wedding dress. Now you’re selling the penthouse. You want to erase every single trace of us, don’t you?” I met his gaze, my voice steady. “Yes.” That single word seemed to shatter his composure entirely. His shoulders trembled, and his eyes welled with tears. “Why? Just because of Tavi? There is nothing going on between us! I’ll fire her. I’ll send her away and never see her again! Ann, just give me one more chance!” The arrogance was gone, replaced by a desperate, rambling plea. But I was done listening. “You’re missing the point, Thomas. The issue was never Tavi. It was you. In your heart, your career, your pride, and your needy staff will always come before me. I’m tired of betting my life on the hope that you might one day look back and see me.” Without another word, I walked into the bedroom and began packing. Thomas didn’t follow. He stood in the living room like a statue. I packed my clothes, my books, my makeup, stripping the apartment of any sign that I had ever existed there. Finally, I rolled my two heavy suitcases toward the door. He hadn’t moved an inch. As my hand touched the brass doorknob, his gravelly voice echoed from behind me. “Ann. Do you really think you’ll survive out there without me? Everything you have right now, who do you think gave it to you?” I paused, turning my head slightly. “Thomas, you’re about to find out exactly how well I can live without you.” I didn’t go back to my parents’ place. Instead, I rented a small, modern loft close to my office. I needed my own sanctuary to heal and rebuild. The public relations firm I ran had gained a decent reputation over the years. It was true that Thomas’s corporate backing had helped me during the startup phase. But I was no longer the fragile girl who needed to lean on him to survive. I had built a solid portfolio of clients who trusted my strategic mind, not my relationship status. The first thing I did upon returning to the office was call an all-hands meeting. “Starting today, we are restructuring our client portfolio. All active accounts and pending campaigns with Montgomery Enterprises and its subsidiaries are suspended immediately.” The room erupted into murmurs of shock. My managing partner and closest friend, Natalie, was the first to speak up. “Ann, are you insane? The Montgomery accounts make up nearly half of our annual revenue! You can’t just cut them off. We’ll starve!” I looked at her, my expression calm. “Natalie, I understand your concern. But there are some checks that aren’t worth cashing. As for the revenue gap, I’ll find a way to plug it.” She wanted to argue, but I raised a hand, silencing the room. I knew it was a massive gamble. But I also knew that as long as I kept even a single thread tied to Thomas, I would never truly be free. I had to sever it completely. Predictably, the news traveled fast. Within hours, Thomas called Natalie’s phone. She put it on speaker, looking at me nervously. “Where is Ann? Put her on the phone!” Thomas’s voice was laced with suppressed fury. Natalie swallowed hard. “Mr. Montgomery, Ann is currently in a meeting.” “A meeting? What meeting could possibly be more important than this? You tell her that if she keeps up this childish tantrum, I’m going to pull all my investments. Her pathetic little agency won’t last a single week without my backing!” I reached over and took the phone from Natalie’s hand. “Mr. Montgomery, is there a problem?” There was a sudden, sharp silence on the line. “Ann,” he said, his voice dropping. “You finally decided to talk. What is this stunt? Are you trying to force my hand?” I let out a soft laugh. “You think too highly of yourself, Thomas. I’m simply clearing out the trash. I’ve never liked using secondhand items.” I ended the call before he could respond. Natalie stared at me, her mouth slightly open. “Ann, that was incredibly harsh.” I shrugged. “When dealing with a rabid dog, you have to be fiercer than they are.” The next two weeks were brutal. Losing our anchor client put the agency’s cash flow in jeopardy. Several prospective clients, having caught wind of our fallout with the Montgomery empire, backed out of negotiations at the last minute. The staff was anxious, and rumors of impending layoffs began to circulate. Natalie was practically pulling her hair out. “Ann, we’re sinking. Maybe you should just throw him a bone? Just a quick apology to smooth things over?” I kept my eyes on my laptop screen, editing a fresh pitch deck. “Natalie, take a look at this.” I spun the screen toward her. It was a deck for an emerging technology startup called Apex Tech. They had developed a groundbreaking consumer software, but they lacked the marketing clout to launch it successfully. Natalie frowned as she scanned the slides. “Apex Tech? I’ve heard of them. They’re basically working out of a garage. No capital, no corporate backing. Even if we pull off a miracle for them, we’ll barely cover our overhead.” I closed my laptop. “Sometimes, you have to look at the long game. I trust my gut on this one.” I personally led our team to meet with the founder of Apex Tech, Liam. He was a young, sharp engineer with clear-cut features and a quiet, intense focus. But the moment he started talking about his product, his eyes lit up with an infectious, brilliant passion. I respected that drive. We clicked instantly, mapping out a bold launch strategy over a single cup of coffee. To prove our commitment, I offered him an unprecedented deal. “We won’t charge you any upfront retainer fees. Instead, we’ll take a percentage of the sales revenue once the product launches.” Liam looked stunned. “Ann, are you running a charity?” I smiled. “I told you, I believe in this product. And I believe in you.” To celebrate the signed contract, Liam insisted on taking me to dinner at a quiet, cozy bistro downtown. Halfway through our main course, my phone vibrated with an unfamiliar number. I slid the bar to answer, and Mrs. Montgomery’s trembling voice came through the speaker. “Ann, you need to come to Saint Jude’s Hospital right now,” she gasped, her voice cracked with panic. “Thomas was in a terrible car accident.”

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1 I was about to sign a crucial contract when my phone buzzed with an unknown number. “Do not sign that contract. Your girlfriend bribed the client to hide massive legal traps in the clauses.” “If you sign it, you will go to prison and be saddled with millions in debt. Your best friend will take your promotion and marry your girlfriend.” “By the time you get out of prison, their kid will be in kindergarten, and they will mock you for being a broke ex-con.” A cold chill ran down my spine. “Who is this?” The line went dead. Was this a malicious prank by a rival firm, or… were the two people closest to me really plotting my downfall? My mind swirling with doubt, I arrived at the client’s office, deciding to carefully review the contract before doing anything else. The moment I opened the first page, my girlfriend, Sarah, impatiently urged me on. “Didn’t we verify everything a few days ago? Stop stalling and just sign it!” I twirled the Montblanc pen in my hand, speaking slowly. “Sarah, reviewing the clauses carefully before signing is basic common sense in our industry, isn’t it?” “When you sign your own contracts, you usually spend at least an hour double-checking every single line.” Realizing she had slipped up, Sarah softened her tone. “This is different! We’ve worked with Mr. Davis so many times. By scrutinizing it like this, you’re blatantly showing you don’t trust him.” Mr. Davis’s face darkened on cue. “If Mr. Sterling doesn’t trust my company, I can always find another partner.” I clearly caught Sarah shooting Mr. Davis a subtle, knowing look. My heart turned to ice. On the drive over, I had tried to convince myself the phone call was just a sick joke. But Sarah’s desperate behavior confirmed every word. The call was real. This contract was definitely a death trap. I glanced at Liam, sitting to my right, and pushed the folder toward him with a smile. “Bro, I felt bad about not giving you that lead last time.” “Why don’t you take this account? Consider it my apology.” “The commission on this one is twenty grand more than the last. I’m a pretty good friend, right?” I locked eyes with Liam. He had pestered me endlessly, complaining about his low salary and lack of clients, begging me to throw some accounts his way. Sometimes I agreed, sometimes I refused. Whenever I said yes, he would smile so wide his face looked like it might split in half. But right now, there was no smile. Only sheer panic. Snapping back to reality, Liam shoved the contract back at me as if it were a live grenade. “No need, man. I couldn’t possibly steal your client.” My gaze drifted down to his wrist. When Sarah came back from her business trip last month, I noticed a new luxury smartwatch in her bag. I thought it was an early birthday gift for me. Not wanting to ruin her surprise, I quietly put it back. That exact smartwatch was currently strapped to Liam’s wrist. The pen slipped from my fingers, hitting the mahogany table with a sharp clack. As I bent down to pick it up, I smoothed my expression into a mask of calm. “Why so polite all of a sudden? Weren’t you just begging me for two accounts last…” Sarah’s irritated voice cut me off. “Arthur, just sign the damn contract! What are you dawdling for?” “Stop pretending to be the generous guy. When you fought tooth and nail for the Director promotion, why didn’t you offer to step aside for him?” “Fought tooth and nail?” I stared dead at Sarah. “I was the top performer in sales for five consecutive years. Earning a promotion is considered fighting tooth and nail?” Sarah interrupted me again, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Enough with the nonsense. You love money more than anything, so just sign it.” I uncapped the pen and hovered the tip over the signature line. Sarah and Liam stared at my hand, completely holding their breath. I didn’t sign. Using my left hand, I flipped to the next page. “I’ll sign it when I’m done reading.” Sarah shot up from her chair. “Are you doing this on purpose, Arthur? What are you trying to pull?” I looked up at her. “I’m trying to read the contract.” “The real question is, why are you trying so hard to stop me from reading it? What are you hiding?” Liam subtly shook his head at Sarah. She forced herself to calm down. “I’m not stopping you from reading it. I just want to lock this deal in! I’m worried you’re going to offend Mr. Davis. What if he backs out?” Mr. Davis immediately played his part, pretending to pack his briefcase. “Forget it. That rep from Apex is still trying to get a meeting with me.” I stopped him. “Give me exactly one minute. I’ll skim through every page.” Mr. Davis looked at Sarah, then nodded reluctantly. “One minute. That’s it.” I rapidly flipped through the document, pausing for only a few seconds on each page. It wasn’t enough time to actually read the fine print, but it was enough to capture the evidence. They were so frantic they didn’t even notice I was wearing glasses today—something I, with perfect 20/20 vision, never did. As I hit the last page, Sarah eagerly pressed, “Can you sign it now?” I capped my pen, slid it into my briefcase, and pushed the contract back to Mr. Davis. “Mr. Davis, I won’t be signing this today. You are free to take your business elsewhere.” Mr. Davis froze, completely forgetting to maintain his act. Sarah and Liam stared at me in utter disbelief. I stood up and walked out. Sarah chased after me, refusing to give up. “Arthur, what is the meaning of this?” “We negotiated everything! Why are you backing out?” “Is this how you show responsibility to the company?” “Go back in there, apologize to Mr. Davis, and sign the damn contract!” I ignored her completely and headed straight back to the corporate headquarters. As luck would have it, Chairman Vance was visiting from the main branch. “How did it go, Arthur? Did we lock in the Davis account?” Sarah chimed in before I could answer. “No, Chairman Vance. I don’t know what’s wrong with Arthur today, but he flat-out refused to sign.” “By now, Mr. Davis has probably already signed with our competitors.” Chairman Vance’s expression instantly darkened. “What is going on here, Arthur? Do you have any idea how crucial this deal is for the firm? Why did you refuse to sign?” “The bulk of our quarterly profits relies on this single account!” “Explain yourself right now!” I kept my voice calm. “Chairman Vance, I can’t explain it right now.” It wasn’t the right time. Without concrete proof, even if I exposed the traps in the contract, Sarah and the others would deny everything and shift the blame entirely. Hearing my answer, Chairman Vance’s face turned thunderous. “What kind of attitude is that, Arthur?” “You can’t explain it? Ridiculous. If you can’t explain your actions, pack your desk and get out!” “Sarah, start reviewing the candidates. We are promoting a new Director!” I nodded, turned around, and walked back to my cubicle to pack my things. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Liam’s reaction. He didn’t look thrilled about my firing; he actually looked panicked. Sarah quickly plastered on a desperate smile, practically begging the Chairman. “Chairman Vance, please don’t be angry. Arthur has been with us for five years. You know how capable he is.” “Could you please give him one more chance to redeem himself?” “Handle it yourself!” Chairman Vance stormed off, fuming. I raised an eyebrow. Things were not playing out the way I had assumed. Logically, if the Chairman fired me, Sarah—as the branch manager—could easily promote Liam to the Director position. But my termination didn’t make them happy. They actively begged the Chairman to keep me on. Did they really need me to end up bankrupt and in prison to be satisfied? I had a creeping suspicion there was a deeper, more sinister plot at play. That evening, the office emptied out. Sarah and Liam left together. Neither of them asked me to join them. It hit me then that this had been the norm for a long time. When the clock struck five, they always left together in perfect sync. I used to pack my things in a rush just to catch up with them in the lobby. When I stayed late working overtime, they never checked on me. They never waited for me. Without realizing it, I had long become the third wheel in my own life. Soon, I was the only one left on the floor. I walked over to Sarah’s desk and noticed she had enabled fingerprint security on her computer. She was actively guarding against me. I had taken advanced cybersecurity electives in college; bypassing a basic login screen would have been child’s play. But Sarah had seemingly forgotten that when she was a new hire, she was constantly late. She made me create a silicone mold of her fingerprint so I could clock in for her. Even when the company upgraded to facial recognition, that silicone mold stayed hidden in my wallet. I pulled it out and gently pressed it against the scanner. The screen blinked to life. Her desktop messaging app was still running. I clicked straight into her chat history with Liam. Liam: [What do we do? He didn’t sign it. We can’t pin the blame on him now.] [When the auditors check the books, they’re going to trace it back to me!] [I don’t want to go to jail! My life will be over!] Sarah: [Don’t panic. I’m having someone forge the financial reports as we speak.] [When the board reviews the quarterly profits, we’ll pin that missing money entirely on him. We’ll claim it’s the financial loss caused by him blowing the Davis deal.] [When the dust settles, the debt will be entirely his, and the firm won’t be able to touch you.] Liam: [Thank you. You’re amazing.] Sarah: [Why are you thanking your own wife?] Wife? My hand trembled violently around the mouse. Even though I had mentally prepared myself, seeing the ugly truth laid bare in black and white still felt like a physical blow to the chest. I could barely breathe. I scrolled further up their chat history. They had been carrying on this disgusting affair behind my back for over two years. When I was bedridden with a severe flu, Liam braved the blistering summer heat to come to my apartment and cook soup for me. But that exact same night, he and Sarah went to an expensive romantic restaurant for a date, and he took her back to his place afterward. The next morning, she rode to work with him in his car, claiming they had just bumped into each other on the road. The dates, the timestamps, the location pins in their chat logs—they took every warm, genuine memory I cherished and branded it as a sickening performance. While I was drowning in what I thought was true friendship and deep love, they were laughing in bed, calling me an absolute idiot. I opened Sarah’s local files and found the problematic contract they were referring to. It was a deal Liam had rushed into signing a few months ago, desperate to outshine me when the Director position opened up. But the contract was a complete disaster. It was riddled with impossible clauses the company could never fulfill. The client sued for a million dollars in damages. Sarah had quietly embezzled company funds to pay them off. The only reason they wanted me to make a catastrophic error was so they could use the chaos to pin that missing million-dollar hole squarely on my shoulders. I shut down the computer and left the building. I had all the evidence I needed. The next day, I went to work acting like absolutely nothing had happened. Sarah was buried in her spreadsheets, her brow furrowing and relaxing as she worked. Finally, on the last day of the month, she submitted the Q2 financial reports to the board of directors. The moment she hit send, she marched over to my cubicle, her voice trembling with manufactured rage. “Arthur, do you have any idea how much money the firm bled this quarter? Three million dollars!” “And it’s entirely your fault for blowing the Davis contract!” “The board of directors is on their way down here right now. You better figure out how you’re going to explain this to them!” Every eye in the office snapped toward me. Some looked shocked, others whispered amongst themselves, and in the corner, two people were clearly holding back snickers. I didn’t say a word. I simply picked up my mug and took a slow sip of water. Heavy, urgent footsteps echoed behind me. Chairman Vance’s icy voice cut through the tension. “Everyone. Conference room. Now.” Inside the glass-walled room, the board members sat with grim, furious expressions. “A three-million-dollar deficit. Manager Sarah, you owe this board an explanation.” Sarah nodded frantically, pointing an accusing, heartbroken finger at me. “It’s him! Arthur caused all of this!” “To secure the Davis contract, we preemptively purchased all the raw materials. But Arthur purposely blew the deal.” “Those materials have a short shelf life. They expired and had to be written off in just two weeks! That’s what caused this massive, catastrophic loss!” The board members stared at the forged financial reports in front of them and nodded in grim agreement. Chairman Vance lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Arthur, according to these financials, this three-million-dollar loss is a direct result of your negligence regarding the Davis account. As per company policy, you are personally liable for these damages.” “Considering your past performance, if you can secure three million dollars within the next three months, I will consider dropping the criminal charges.” “If you fail, our legal team will see you in court.” “Once the judge hands down a sentence, it will be entirely out of my hands.” I met the Chairman’s gaze with absolute calm. “Chairman Vance, I refuse to pay a single cent.” “Because I haven’t done anything wrong.” The entire board erupted in fury, slamming their hands on the mahogany table. “You did nothing wrong? Then where did this massive deficit come from?” “Chairman Vance, send him to prison! Look at his arrogant attitude! He burns millions of our capital and acts like this?” Liam reached out and tugged at my sleeve, playing the role of the concerned best friend perfectly. “Bro, why are you being so stubborn? Just admit you messed up.” “Nobody is perfect. Just take this as an expensive lesson and move on.” “I know three million is a massive number, but you can always ask Apex for help! You purposely sabotaged the Davis deal so Apex could snatch it. They owe you a massive favor…” Hearing Liam’s words, the board’s fury boiled over into absolute rage. “What?! You tanked the Davis deal for Apex? Arthur, this firm pays your salary!” “Prison! Chairman Vance, he needs to be locked up immediately!” Liam quickly covered his mouth, feigning absolute panic. “Oh God, did I say too much? I didn’t mean to…” “Bro, please, just confess before they actually send you to jail!” His face was a mask of sheer terror, but the corners of his mouth were twitching, desperately fighting back a triumphant smirk. I looked at him with cold amusement. “Are you done performing? Is it my turn to speak now?” Liam froze for a second, then forced tears into his eyes. “What are you talking about, Arthur? I’m genuinely terrified for you…” I raised an eyebrow. “Then you can relax. I’m not going to prison.” Sarah scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “Still this arrogant? You nearly bankrupted the firm! Even a lifetime in prison won’t cover what you owe us!” I stood up and faced the furious board members. “Gentlemen, I fully admit that I intentionally refused to sign the Davis contract.” “However, I did it to protect this firm.” The board members slammed the table again. “Protect the firm? You threw away a multi-million dollar account and call that protecting us?” Sarah’s face darkened menacingly. “Arthur, do you hear the garbage coming out of your mouth? A ten-million-dollar contract, and you just decide not to sign it? How does that protect us? Were you trying to protect us from making a profit?” I turned slowly, locking eyes with Sarah. “Manager Sarah, I’d actually like to ask you a question. Why were you badgering me so relentlessly to sign the contract that day?” Sarah frowned. “What do you mean? I wanted to lock in a massive deal for the company!” I laughed. “No, you were terrified I was going to actually read the fine print and find the trap.” Sarah froze. “Wh-what nonsense are you spouting?” I turned back to the board. “The reason I refused the Davis contract is because it was a legal landmine.” “And that landmine was carefully planted by Sarah herself.” A flash of genuine panic crossed Sarah’s eyes before she pointed at me, screeching in defensive rage. “Arthur, you are like a rabid dog biting anyone in sight! What landmine? You lost the deal, so now you’re trying to claim the contract was rigged?” “Fine! If the contract was rigged, where is your proof? Show us the trap! Where is it?” “Oh, wait, let me guess. Because you didn’t sign it, you didn’t bring the original copy back with you, so you have absolutely zero evidence to back up your pathetic lies?” I didn’t say a word. I just stood there, staring at her. The corners of her mouth twitched up into a victorious smirk, and she tilted her head at me mockingly. Meeting her arrogant gaze, I smiled softly. “Evidence? Of course I have evidence.” “In fact… I have a mountain of it.” I pulled a sleek USB drive from my pocket and twirled it between my fingers.

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I stayed by Evan’s side for five long years. Finally, I got the proposal I had been waiting for. But the very next day, he died in a horrific car crash. The people responsible were the Crofts, a family of untouchable elites. Their lawyer tossed a stack of glossy reports onto the table. “Evan was driving drunk. He also had a documented history of severe clinical depression. But thankfully, our young master walked away without a scratch. Because of that, the family has decided not to press charges against the deceased. Here is a check for a hundred grand. We consider the matter settled.” Nothing made sense. Evan was deathly allergic to alcohol. And I was the one who pulled him out of the darkest trenches of his depression. I knew his mind better than anyone. Seeing my silence, the lawyer’s polite tone turned sharp. “Take the money. It makes things easier for everyone. This was just a tragic accident, right?” I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye. My fingers closed over the crisp check. “Right. An accident.” One year later, I became the private nurse for that very same Croft heir. 1 Ever since his organ transplant, Sebastian Croft had to come in for regular checkups. Today, he left the clinic in a rush. He forgot his anti-rejection medication. After my shift ended, I took the prescription bottle and drove straight to his sprawling estate. The butler opened the heavy oak doors. “Mr. Croft isn’t home yet. You can leave the medication with me.” Before I could hand it over, a sharp, furious voice rang out from behind me. “You again!” I turned around. Stella stepped out of a sleek black luxury car, her face twisted in a vicious sneer as she marched up to me. “You actually think carving your face to look like mine is going to make Sebastian look twice at you?” “Stop dreaming!” I lowered my eyes, playing the picture of innocent grievance. “I am strictly Mr. Croft’s private nurse. I don’t have any ulterior motives. You’re misunderstanding the situation, Miss Stella.” She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Am I? Well, perfect timing. My new movie is short a stunt double. You can take the job.” I knew exactly what game she was playing. For the past two years, Stella had used Sebastian’s backing to skyrocket to A-list fame. The tabloids constantly linked them together. But they never made it official. The Croft family despised her. To them, she was just a cheap actress, completely unworthy of their blue-blood lineage. Now, a girl with a face strikingly similar to hers had appeared. Seeing how close I was getting to Sebastian made her skin crawl with insecurity. She wanted to drag me through the mud. If I agreed to be her stunt double, my status would plummet even lower than a basic extra. “I appreciate the offer, Miss Stella. But I am Mr. Croft’s medical provider. He needs me on call.” She lunged forward, her manicured fingers digging brutally into my jaw. Her eyes were venomous. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? All I have to do is say the word, and Sebastian will hand you over on a silver platter. I could have you tied up and tossed onto a table for a bunch of studio executives. You think you’d walk away clean?” “Really?” I whispered back. “If you’re so powerful, why are you standing out here in the driveway? Why don’t you just let yourself in?” The truth was simple. The Crofts had explicitly banned Stella from entering the mansion. That single sentence hit an absolute nerve. She froze. A second later, her hand flew through the air, slapping me hard across the cheek. “You bitch!” Sebastian appeared behind her like a ghost. His voice was a low, terrifying growl. “Back away from her.” Stella recoiled in sheer panic. She instantly switched modes, throwing herself at Sebastian’s chest with a flawless display of crocodile tears. “I canceled all my meetings just to come wait for you! But she stood here insulting me, telling me I’m just a cheap actress who doesn’t deserve you.” “Sebastian, I willingly threw myself into the filthy entertainment industry just to build a name for myself. I wanted to be famous enough to stand by your side. I didn’t know your parents would hate me for it. I was willing to be your secret, to stay in the shadows while everyone called me a whore. But how dare a complete stranger disrespect me like that!” I shook my head frantically, my eyes wide with terror. “I didn’t… I swear I didn’t.” Sebastian raised a hand. He cut my sentence off entirely. “Don’t come back here. This isn’t a place you belong.” Tears welled in my eyes as I offered a weak, obedient nod. But the moment I turned my back and walked away, a cold smile crept onto my lips. Because right as he said those harsh words, I saw the deep, agonizing reluctance burning in his eyes. That was all I needed. 2 A man like Sebastian was intensely territorial. Whether he truly loved Stella or not, he refused to let anyone disrespect her. She was his property. Questioning her meant questioning him. After that incident, I went back to my quiet routine at the clinic. Soon enough, it was time for his next checkup. But he never showed up. “What’s wrong? Disappointed Sebastian didn’t come running?” Stella strolled into the VIP waiting room, hiding behind oversized sunglasses and a designer mask. She swayed her hips and casually waved a hand. Two massive bodyguards in black suits stormed into the room. They grabbed my arms, pinning me in place. “I’ve been a little busy lately. Almost forgot about you.” Before I could even scream, a brutal strike hit the back of my neck. The world instantly faded to black. When I finally regained consciousness, my wrists were bound tight. I was shoved into a suffocatingly dark, cramped box. Muffled voices drifted from the outside. “Ever since Miss Stella hooked the Croft heir, you’ve completely forgotten about my little establishment.” “Don’t be silly, Mr. Donovan. You know I value our relationship. I brought you a very special gift today. I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.” Light violently flooded my vision. As my eyes adjusted to the glaring bulbs, I saw Stella’s triumphant smirk, standing next to a repulsive, middle-aged executive. “She really does look just like you.” Donovan licked his lips. “But…” Stella leaned in, her voice dripping with seductive poison. “Don’t tell me you aren’t satisfied?” He erupted into a disgusting laugh. “Oh, this is a massive upgrade!” Ignoring Stella’s suddenly furious, flushed face, he reached a thick hand out toward me. Stella looked at my trembling, terrified expression and smiled coldly. She turned on her heel and headed for the heavy steel door. “Enjoy yourself, Mr. Donovan. I’ll wait outside. Everything is completely off the books.” The second the door clicked shut, the sheer terror vanished from my face. Stella had absolutely no idea what kind of hell I had crawled out of. She thought I was some weak, spineless little nurse she could crush like a bug. When I was nineteen, I was abducted by a trafficking ring and dragged into a remote, forgotten rust-belt town. The locals chained me up in a filthy basement, intending to sell me off as a birthing tool. They looked at my pale skin and quiet demeanor and thought I was an easy target. When the first man walked out of that basement, his face was unrecognizable, pouring blood from where his ear used to be. When the second man dragged himself out, he was clutching his ruined groin, leaving a thick trail of crimson behind him. They were terrified of me. They locked me in pitch darkness. To escape the iron cuffs, I intentionally snapped my own wrist, ignoring the blinding agony as I squeezed my mangled hand through the metal ring. I ran through the dense woods for twenty miles without stopping. That was when I met Evan. He saved me. I was never a helpless victim. I was a feral, dangerous animal cornered in the dark. It was Evan’s gentle patience that slowly tamed me. He pulled me out of the madness and taught me how to be human again. I packed away my violent edges and stayed by his side, peaceful and content. But everything bright and beautiful in my life had been slaughtered by the Crofts. 3 I hadn’t planned on Sebastian hosting a corporate banquet in the very same building. I was fully prepared to handle Donovan myself. But suddenly, the heavy door was kicked off its hinges. By the time Sebastian stepped into the room, Donovan was already passed out on the floor, groaning in a pool of his own blood. My scrubs were splattered in crimson. My fist was tightly wrapped around a silver steak knife. As Sebastian marched toward me, I instantly buried my lethal composure. My eyes glazed over with hollow shock, and I stood frozen in place like a traumatized victim. He didn’t say a single word. He shrugged off his tailored overcoat and draped it over my shivering shoulders. The moment the warm fabric touched me, I snapped out of my daze and began to sob hysterically. “I didn’t mean to! It was Miss Stella. She tied me up…” He pulled me firmly into his chest, his voice a low, soothing hum. “I’ve got you. I’m taking you out of here.” As we walked out into the corridor, Stella lunged forward, desperately clawing at Sebastian’s sleeve. “Sebastian, you have to listen to me!” “Let go.” His voice was colder than liquid nitrogen. “It was Donovan! He kept making aggressive moves on me, and I…” “So you served her up on a silver platter to take your place?” Sebastian’s eyes were lethal. “She is a medical worker trying to live a quiet life. What the hell did she ever do to you? How did she cross you?” Stella froze. She had clearly never seen this terrifying, merciless side of him. But I had. After Evan died, I was forced to look at those fabricated police reports. Drunk driving. Clinical depression. Suicide. The lies made me so violently angry that I went to the private hospital to demand the truth from Sebastian himself. I had slipped past the guards and stood outside his recovery room. I saw him lying against the pillows. His voice was dead and devoid of any human empathy. “Get a hundred grand ready. Test her waters. See what she knows.” The lawyer beside him nodded. “And if she takes the money, sir? What’s our next move?” Sebastian’s tone was made of ice. “Weeds grow back if you don’t burn the roots. Do I need to explain everything to you?” A few hours later, I accepted the money. And I vanished completely. Exactly as I predicted, the very next day, my old apartment mysteriously caught fire and burned to the foundation. Every single medical file on Evan at the hospital was wiped clean. Even the small cemetery plot I had purchased for him was inexplicably vandalized and torched. It was as if Evan never existed. Sebastian’s methods were ruthless and absolute. Right now, Stella’s desperate, weeping act wasn’t moving him an inch. “I will say this one last time. Let go.” She clung tighter, her voice tearing at the seams. “Sebastian, I was wrong! I swear to God I’ll never do anything like this again. Please, don’t look at me like that!” A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the hallway. Tucked against Sebastian’s chest, I let out a perfectly timed, delicate whimper. I furrowed my brows and let my body go entirely limp, pretending to pass out from the trauma. “Stella. Don’t ever let me see your face again.” She was finished. To this day, she probably still couldn’t understand how a random nurse managed to steal Sebastian’s heart in just a few short encounters. I looked just like her, didn’t I? Why was the outcome so drastically different? What she didn’t know was that Sebastian only elevated her because she shared a passing resemblance to his true obsession. Back then, I took the hundred grand the Crofts paid me and split it. I spent sixty thousand on a brutally efficient private investigator. Within two months, he cracked the Croft family vault open. Hidden in the archives was a story from years ago. It came with a photograph of a young girl who looked exactly like Stella. She wore a simple white sundress. She looked pure and untainted. Her name was Evelyn. She was Sebastian’s first love. Unfortunately, she was poor. The Croft family absolutely refused the match. Back then, Sebastian was young and powerless. He could do nothing but watch Evelyn die in a tragic, unexpected car accident. An accident orchestrated by his own mother. Until he met Stella. She had the same face. Even though her personality was loud and abrasive, keeping her around was enough to soothe the agonizing grief in his chest. But I used the remaining forty thousand dollars on reconstructive surgery. When another face resembling Evelyn’s appeared—but this one possessing the exact same gentle, quiet temperament as the dead girl… Stella was destined for the garbage bin. 4 I was brought back to Sebastian’s private estate. Every inch of the mansion screamed obscene, suffocating wealth. Two maids were assigned exclusively to me. They drew my bath and brought me fresh silk clothes. “This bathroom looks like something out of a royal palace,” I whispered, playing the awestruck commoner. “It must be incredibly expensive.” One of the maids offered a polite smile. “Yes, miss. Mr. Croft enjoys a good soak. The master bath renovations alone cost half a million dollars.” Half a million. Evan’s entire life was bought for a fraction of that. The heavy door clicked open, and Sebastian walked in. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, nervously twisting the hem of my shirt, playing the part of a terrified deer caught in headlights. “Don’t be afraid. You are perfectly safe here.” I didn’t hold back anymore. When I finally looked up at him, two lines of tears spilled silently down my cheeks. I opened my hand, revealing the plastic prescription bottle I had clutched the entire time. I reached it out toward him. “Mr. Croft… these are your pills.” “I was just trying to deliver them to you. But the last time I was here, you told me I didn’t belong. I just want to put these down and leave before I upset you again…” Sebastian reached out and gently tilted my chin up. His dark eyes were swirling with an intense, agonizing yearning. “Evelyn.” “It was my fault. From now on, you’re staying here. Understand?” I offered a frantic, confused nod. Deep down, my heart was racing with cold excitement. What was wrong with playing the stand-in? As long as I had the face and the personality, slipping a knife into his heart would be effortless. When you pour every ounce of your soul into loving someone, only to realize they never cared about you at all—and that they actually want you to suffer a fate worse than death—the despair is absolute. It was a far more delicious punishment than just putting a bullet in his head. That night, Sebastian put me in the bedroom directly adjacent to his. I stood by the massive windows, staring out into the dark estate. The memories I had kept buried began to violently resurface. Evan used to be a wealthy kid too. But his father’s mining company collapsed in a catastrophic accident. His father died, the funds evaporated, and the family was plunged into total ruin. His mother couldn’t handle the poverty and fled the country. She left Evan alone to raise his little brother, Richard. Back then, I used to dig through the bruised produce bins at the local market just to survive. Splurging on instant ramen felt like a luxury. But Evan was always so unfailingly gentle. When he smiled, the warmth in his eyes was enough to cure the bleak, miserable reality we lived in. Then, I started finding his hidden pills. Whenever he used the bathroom, a faint, metallic tang of blood always lingered in the air. I was working as an orderly at the clinic when I stumbled across his chart by accident. That was when I found out he was deeply, dangerously sick. Richard was just a kid back then, and he was the first to completely break under the pressure. That was the only time I ever screamed at Evan. “I was an orphan! I don’t have parents! I don’t know what it feels like to lose a family empire, but I am here with you! Richard needs you! If you carve yourself up and die, what happens to me? What happens to your brother?” “When they chained me up in that basement, my chances of surviving were zero. But I used my own two feet to drag myself out of hell, and I found you! You saved me, and I am going to save you! Evan, we can survive this! We will survive this!” He started cooperating with the therapy. He started fighting to live. I poured every ounce of my energy and time into pulling him out of the dark and into the sun. Happiness was finally within our grasp. And then? The Croft family realized that Evan’s body was a flawless genetic match for Sebastian. He had the same incredibly rare blood type. He had the perfect, healthy organs. So they used their bottomless bank accounts to script a tragedy. They orchestrated the car crash. They assumed that a kid with a dead father, a runaway mother, and a helpless younger brother was just a bug on the windshield. Even if he died under suspicious circumstances, who was going to make a wave? They thought he was nobody. But he was my entire world.

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Three years of marriage, and Marcus cheated on me ninety-nine times. I endured it all in silence, keeping my head down and swallowing the humiliation. Until his mistress’s dog got pregnant. Marcus brought the pampered beast back to our house, demanding that I, despite my life-threatening allergies, act as its full-time nanny. And because I once accidentally locked the woman and her dog outside in the yard, Marcus grabbed a handful of loose dog hair from the floor and rammed it deep into my throat. As I choked on the dry fur, my eyes bloodshot and straining for air, his mistress made a pathetic, half-hearted attempt to play peacekeeper, telling him not to go too far. Marcus merely shrugged, his eyes cold and empty. “Why worry? She is just a barren hag. Who else would want her besides me?” Later, the boy from next door, who had loved me in secret for years, seized the chance to pull me out of that hell. And Marcus went completely mad with regret. He ended up dragging his shattered body from beneath the wheels of a semi-truck, clinging to his last agonizing breath just to beg me to look at him one more time. But I was already gone. 1 Just as I lifted my foot to walk out the front door, Marcus’s sharp, impatient voice cut through the foyer. “Take your trash with you when you leave. It is an eyesore.” Standing beside him, his mother let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Marcus, why even waste your breath on a useless waste of space like her? Three years in this house and she couldn’t even give us a child.” She sneered, looking down her nose at me. “She is not even worth as much as Maggie’s dog. We should have never let her through our doors in the first place.” Maggie, standing slightly behind them, quickly masked her smug satisfaction with a look of mock concern. “Mrs. Sinclair, please do not say such things. It is not polite.” I did not have the energy to argue with these people anymore. Turning away to leave, I felt a sudden blur of white fur bolt toward me. Before I could react, the dog sank its sharp teeth deep into my forearm. A blinding spike of pain shot from my arm straight to my chest. I froze, staring down at the animal. Its muzzle was smeared with my blood, its dark eyes locked onto mine with a vicious, unnerving intensity. Marcus’s brow furrowed slightly. “Eric, you…” Before he could finish his sentence, Maggie let out a dramatic gasp. “Marcus, look! What is wrong with Buster?” The white dog, which had just savagely bitten me, instantly whimpered, shrinking into the corner of the room like a terrified, abused creature. Maggie squeezed out a few tears, her shoulders trembling. Marcus immediately pulled her into his arms, murmuring sweet reassurances before dialing a private veterinarian. Ten minutes later, the vet gave his diagnosis. “The dog is perfectly fine. He is just a little startled.” Marcus’s deep voice hardened, thick with suppressed anger as he glared at me. “Look how badly you terrified Buster. Apologize to him right now.” I knew exactly what happened to people who defied Marcus. A few years ago, Maggie and I had both entered a national design competition. Fearing I would overshadow her, Marcus ordered me to withdraw and let her take the prize. When I refused, he had his security team beat me until I was hospitalized with broken bones. I still remembered him standing over my hospital bed, spitting his words. “A low-class nobody like you thinks she can compete with Maggie? Go back home and scrub the toilets where you belong.” Pulling myself back to the present, I slowly bowed my head and looked at the white dog. “I am sorry,” I whispered. Seeing my quick submission, a flicker of surprise crossed Marcus’s eyes. His mother sniffed, crossing her arms. “About time you learned your place. Do not think that just because you wear the title of Mrs. Sinclair, you can do whatever you want. You are not worth a single strand of Maggie’s hair.” She pointed toward the back of the house. “Since you are leaving, use the servant’s entrance. A disgraced woman like you does not deserve to walk out the front door.” “No, please,” Maggie said, rushing forward to grab my hand. Her voice was dripping with false sweet sympathy. “Do not kick Eric out because of me. I will feel so guilty if you do this.” “Maggie,” Marcus murmured, his expression softening into a tenderness I had never once received. “You are far too kind for your own good. People will walk all over you if you keep letting them.” I yanked my hand out of her grasp to turn away, but Maggie immediately collapsed to the floor with a soft cry. Looking down at her tear-streaked face, I almost wanted to laugh. This pathetic, childish performance was her favorite trick, and she never seemed to tire of it. What was worse was that Marcus fell for it every single time. “Maggie!” Marcus panicked, kneeling down to scoop her up. He cradled her swollen ankle, his touch incredibly gentle. His mother pointed a shaking, manicured finger at me. “Eric! You malicious snake!” Maggie whimpered against his chest. “Do not be angry with her. I am sure she did not mean to push me.” “Enough!” Marcus snapped, his eyes flashing with a dark, dangerous storm. “Eric, apologize to Maggie right now.” My phone vibrated in my palm. It was a text from my cab driver, letting me know he had just pulled up outside the gates. I tightened my grip on the device, taking two steps toward the exit before Marcus grabbed my shoulder and violently dragged me back inside. 2 “You are not leaving this house until you apologize.” With a harsh shove, Marcus threw me down the stairs into the pitch-black basement. It was a concrete tomb, the temperature hovering near freezing. Leaning against the heavy wooden door, I could hear Marcus talking to his assistant in the hallway above. “Sir, even if Mrs. Sinclair was in the wrong, this seems a bit extreme,” the assistant murmured, his voice laced with concern. “It is freezing down there, and the air is terrible. What if she gets sick?” “Silence,” Marcus replied, his voice flat and unyielding. “This is her punishment. She must learn her place.” He paused, adding a cruel scoff. “And do not worry about her faking an illness to get attention. Weeds like Eric do not die that easily.” His words drifted through the cracks of the door like a freezing draft, settling deep in my bones until my chest felt entirely numb. I lost track of how many hours passed before the heavy lock finally clicked open. When I dragged myself up the wooden stairs, shivering and pale, the first thing I saw was Marcus kneeling on the floor, carefully wrapping a piece of white fabric around Maggie’s dog as a makeshift diaper. The fabric looked terribly familiar. I stepped closer, my heart stopping as I recognized the delicate lace and hand-sewn pearls. It was the wedding dress my mother had stayed up nights to make for me right before she passed away. “Marcus!” My voice cracked, raw and trembling. Meeting my furious gaze, Marcus remained entirely unfazed. “It is just a piece of cloth from a dead woman. Why make a scene? Using it for Maggie’s dog is an honor. You should be kneeling and thanking us.” Seeing the ghostly pallor of my face, his tone softened just a fraction. “Fine. If you are going to cry about it, I will buy you a new designer dress later.” “Oh, dear,” Maggie coughed softly, leaning against the doorframe. Marcus’s attention instantly snapped back to her. “Maggie, what is wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” “It is nothing,” she murmured, her eyes drifting to his chest. “Just a little cold. By the way, Marcus, what is that silver medallion around your neck? It looks so cheap and ugly.” “It is cheap,” Marcus said without a second thought. He unclasped the silver medallion and tossed it carelessly into the trash can, treating it like a piece of filthy waste. I stared at the trash can. I had spent three weeks kneeling on cold stone floors, climbing nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine steps to a mountaintop cathedral just to get that protective medallion blessed for him when he was fighting for his life in the ICU three years ago. If I had known then what lay ahead, I would have never spilled my blood on those steps. “Marcus,” Maggie purred, tugging at his sleeve. “I am hungry. Would you make something for me?” “You little glutton,” he chuckled, pinching her cheek. “I really cannot say no to you.” The moment Marcus walked into the kitchen, Maggie’s sweet smile vanished. She grabbed my arm with surprising strength and dragged me toward her massive walk-in closet. Inside, hundreds of expensive, handcrafted designer bags were lined up on illuminated shelves. “Are you jealous?” Maggie whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “Marcus made every single one of these for me with his own hands.” To please her, the busy, powerful head of the Sinclair empire had taken professional leatherworking classes just so she could have three hundred and sixty-five unique bags to carry throughout the year. What a beautiful, touching love story. “Do you want to know why Marcus refused to send his medical team to save your mother on her deathbed?” Maggie leaned in close, her eyes glittering with malice. “It was because I scraped my foot that day. Marcus was so worried about me that he ordered every single doctor in his employ to stay and run tests on me.” She pulled out her phone and swiped to a photo. “Look for yourself.” On the screen, Marcus was cradling Maggie’s foot in his lap with an expression of pure, desperate devotion, treating her like a priceless treasure while my mother drew her last breaths in an empty hospital room. A white-hot rage flared in my chest. Just as my hand twitched to strike her, I heard Marcus’s heavy footsteps approaching from behind. Before I could even blink, Maggie threw herself onto the hardwood floor. She raised her own hands, violently slapping herself across the face several times until her cheeks flushed red. “Eric, I am so sorry!” she wailed, clutching my knees. “I beg of you, please do not have Buster put down! Please do not send me to those awful men!” 3 “Eric!” Marcus’s voice roared through the room, his eyes dark with an unspeakable fury. He marched forward and slammed a thick stack of papers directly into my face. The sharp edges of the sheets sliced across my cheek, but I barely felt it. “You wanted to leave? You have got it. Sign the papers and get out.” I fell back onto the floor, my fingers trembling as I picked up the scattered pages of the divorce agreement. Without another look at me, Marcus lifted Maggie into his arms and carried her toward the master bedroom. Suddenly, a sharp, twisting pain bloomed in my lower abdomen. I looked down, freezing in horror as I realized my trousers were rapidly staining with deep, crimson blood. My missed period. The fatigue. The nausea. A terrifying realization hit me. “Marcus! Please, wait! Take me to the hospital!” The only response was the loud, uncaring slam of the bedroom door. Through the thin walls, the muffled sounds of their laughter and soft, intimate whispers began to drift out. “Marcus, please… I think I am pregnant. I am bleeding… I am going to lose the baby.” Maggie’s amused chuckle cut through my desperate cries. “I really must hand it to your wife, Marcus. She can tell the most outrageous lies with a straight face.” In the hallway, two maids whispered and giggled. “The discarded wife is getting desperate. Look at her trying to play the pity card to win him back.” “Too bad the master only has eyes for Miss Maggie. Some people just do not know when to give up.” Fighting the waves of dizziness, I reached into my pocket and dialed emergency services. But before the call could connect, one of the maids snatched the phone from my hand. The head maid smirked, slipping off her shoe and holding her bare foot inches from my face. “You want your phone back? Crawl over and beg me for it.” Clutching my stomach, I curled into a ball on the cold floor, retreating into myself as the pain intensified. How pathetic. I was the legal Mrs. Sinclair, yet even the household staff could torment me without fear of consequence. Before the darkness finally claimed my consciousness, Marcus’s voice floated from the bedroom. “Is that so? Then when is she finally going to die? I wish she would hurry up and make room for you.” The maid gave my limp shoulder a sharp kick. “Did you hear that? The master wants to know when you are finally going to kick the bucket.” When I finally opened my eyes, the sterile smell of disinfectant told me I was in a hospital room. Marcus was standing at the foot of the bed, his face pale and tight with anger. “Eric, when did you get pregnant? Why did you not tell me?” I let out a weak, lifeless laugh. “Did I not? I screamed it at your door.” Marcus froze, a rare flicker of genuine panic and regret crossing his features. Seeing his hesitation, Maggie quickly stepped forward, her voice soft and calculated. “Is she really pregnant, Marcus? I find that hard to believe. Didn’t the family doctor say you had a incredibly low sperm count?” The regret in Marcus’s eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a cold, burning disgust. “I should have known,” he sneered, looking at me as if I were a piece of filth. “Who knows whose bastard you were trying to pin on me anyway? It is a good thing it is gone. It saves me the disgust of looking at it.” “Marcus!” Before we could argue further, his phone rang. His mother’s sharp, screeching voice echoed clearly in the quiet room. “Marcus! Are you still hovering over that worthless girl? Have you forgotten what she did to your sister? Have you forgotten how she drove Lily to her death?” “Get back here this instant!” At the mention of his late sister, Marcus’s gaze turned murderous. Suddenly, the door to my hospital room was burst open. A crowd of reporters surged inside, their cameras flashing blindly in my face. One reporter shoved a microphone toward Marcus. “Mr. Sinclair, can you tell us why your wife was rushed to the hospital with severe bleeding?” Marcus straightened his suit jacket, his expression entirely detached. “How should I know? She has never been one to keep to herself.” His words were like throwing gasoline onto a fire. By the next morning, my name was trending at the very top of every social media platform. The headlines were ruthless. Eric Sinclair’s Secret Wild Life Exposed. The Dark Side of a High-Society Wife. Anonymous sources claimed I was a regular at exclusive underground clubs, while others fabricated stories about me being an escort from the notorious Velvet Lounge who could be bought for a price. The lies clung to me like leeches, draining the last of my strength. On the day I was discharged, a mob of paparazzi blocked the hospital exit, swarming me the moment I stepped outside. “Mrs. Sinclair, did your husband find out about your secret encounters? Is that why you lost the baby?” “Is it true you used to work as Call Girl Number Eight? What is your nightly rate these days? Would a hundred dollars cover it?” “We are willing to pay for an exclusive interview, Eric. Where are you working now? Maybe we can bring some business your way.” The mocking laughter and flashing bulbs made the world spin. I bit my lip until it bled, pushing through the crowd and running blindly down the street. When I finally managed to lose them in a quiet alley, my phone buzzed with a notification. 4 It was a public statement from Marcus, officially severing all ties with me. The attached image showed him holding Maggie’s hand, the caption reading: You are my forever. It does not matter that we started late. How tragic. During our three years together, he had hidden me away like a dirty secret. But with Maggie, he wanted the entire world to know. A text message from Maggie popped up on my screen right after. How does it feel to be dragged through the dirt by everyone? Don’t get comfortable, Eric. The real show is just beginning. You think you can fight me? You don’t stand a chance. As the days passed, the vicious rumors about my personal life only grew wilder and more detailed. I knew Marcus was behind the media push, using his massive influence to ensure I was completely ruined. Later that week, Marcus texted me to meet him at a quiet cafe. When he saw how hollow and exhausted I looked, a flash of conflict crossed his face, though it was quickly masked by his usual cold arrogance. “Eric, do not hate me for this. You brought this on yourself. You owe this to my sister. If it was not for your jealousy, Lily would still be alive today.” “Yes,” I replied quietly, sitting back in my chair. “It was all my fault.” I was tired of fighting. If they wanted a villain to blame for Lily’s tragic suicide, then I would be their villain. It did not matter anymore. Marcus frowned, clearly bothered by my listless, easy surrender. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, a violent tremor shook the building. The light fixtures swung wildly overhead. The floor buckled beneath our feet, and the sound of shattering glass filled the air. An earthquake. In an instant, Marcus lunged across the table, pulling me into his arms as the ceiling began to collapse. He shielded me with his body, carrying me toward the exit as debris rained down around us. For a brief, fleeting moment, his familiar scent wrapped around me, and I felt a strange sense of safety. But then, a sharp whine echoed from the back of the building. “Buster!” Maggie’s voice screamed from outside. Marcus froze. He looked toward the exit, then back at the collapsing hallway where the dog was trapped. Without a single word, he let go of me. He turned around and ran back into the dust, leaving me behind without a backward glance. Three years of marriage, and my life was worth less than his mistress’s dog. I couldn’t help but let out a quiet, bitter laugh as the dust settled around me. Through the crumbling walls, I could hear their voices outside. “Marcus! Thank God you and Buster are safe! I do not know what I would have done if anything happened to you.” “I am right here, Maggie. We are both fine.” After comforting her, Marcus finally seemed to remember that I was still inside the collapsing structure. He tried to run back toward the doors, but several bystanders and staff members held him back. “Sir, it is too dangerous! You cannot go back in there!” “The whole place is coming down! That woman is probably already dead anyway. Going back is just suicide!” Before the speaker could finish, a sharp slap echoed through the crowd. “Shut up!” Marcus roared, his face pale with a terrifying rage. “Who gave you permission to speak about my wife like that?” But I was no longer in the building. I had already crawled through a side window and made my way to a cab, heading straight for the airport. As I waited for my flight to board, I pulled out my phone. One by one, I deleted his number, his photos, and every single trace of Marcus Sinclair from my life. Goodbye, Marcus. Actually, let’s make that never see you again.

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The system noticed my gaze lingering on the locked option of “A Mother’s Love” and seemed to grow irritated. It flared up in a sudden rage. “Host, your target is your mother!” “Make your mother angry: +1 point.” “Make your mother detest you: +10 points.” “If your mother’s resentment level reaches 500 points, you will unlock every item in this store.” The system tapped an invisible chalkboard aggressively. “If the combined resentment from Richard, Phoebe, and your mother reaches 2,000 points, there will be a massive bonus reward.” “This system absolutely despises spineless cowards!” 1. My mother told me that if I helped Phoebe just this once, I would have the Bennett family wrapped around my finger. She said everyone in the family would owe me. “It’s just a few years in prison,” she had said, brushing it off. “Once you are out, everyone’s lives will be so much easier.” Phoebe clung to my mother’s arm, projecting the picture-perfect image of a sweet, innocent daughter. I stood to the side, feeling like a ghost in my own home. Richard Bennett stood silent for a long moment before finally muttering, “Once you are out, I will write you a check. Put down whatever number you want, as long as it is within my power.” Phoebe sobbed, burying her face in Helen’s chest. “I’m so scared, Mom. I don’t want to go to jail. It was an accident, I swear. What am I going to do?” My mother looked as if she had been injected with a sudden surge of adrenaline. She turned back to me, pleading with desperate intensity. “Rowan, sweetie, please, just do this for me. Just this once.” “Phoebe is a fragile young girl. How could she survive a place like that? It would ruin her entire life.” “Think of her as your older sister. Show some compassion. Besides, you’ve always been tough. Your father used to beat you all the time when you were little anyway.” The woman standing before me felt like a complete stranger. She shielded Phoebe with a fierce maternal instinct, as if Phoebe were her actual flesh and blood. “Are you going to do it or not?” Helen’s voice sharpened, her hand hovering in the air. “I’m counting to three. Answer me!” Feeling utterly defeated, I surrendered to my fate and agreed. Inside, I was completely numb. In my past life, I had agreed just as easily. Back then, I was naive. I cared for my mother, and I was genuinely happy she had finally remarried a decent man. When she asked this of me, I foolishly believed I was doing something meaningful for her. Perhaps that was because, before her second marriage, I had spent years playing the role of her husband. I was her daughter, but I was also her proxy spouse. She had projected all her resentment toward her ex-husband onto me, yet whenever my young self proved helpless to save her, her disappointment ran deep. That was why, from a very young age, I was desperate to do anything to make her life easier. So when she begged me to take the fall for Phoebe in my previous life, I didn’t hesitate. I thought it would secure her place in the Bennett household, and in turn, make my own life better. But after I went to prison, my mother never visited me once. While other inmates had visitors every month, I had none. During the monthly phone calls, everyone else had family waiting on the other end. My calls went unanswered. I was left entirely alone, forgotten by the world. Unable to endure the suffocating isolation, I ended my life on New Year’s Day. Perhaps the universe pitied my miserable end. I woke up reborn. In front of my eyes floated a glowing blue screen: The Doormat Reformation Project. A cheerful, synthesized voice chimed in my head, “Welcome, dear host, to the Doormat Reformation System. Here, you can redeem anything you want from the system store using Resentment Points.” I browsed the shop interface. There were options to redeem a billion-dollar fortune, or superstar status. But the option to redeem A Mother’s Love was grayed out, completely locked. The system noticed my gaze lingering on that grayed-out option and flared up in anger. “Host, your target is your mother!” “Make your mother angry: +1 point.” “Make your mother detest you: +10 points.” “If your mother’s resentment level reaches 500 points, you will unlock every item in this store.” The system tapped an invisible chalkboard aggressively. “If the combined resentment from Richard, Phoebe, and your mother reaches 2,000 points, there will be a massive bonus reward.” “This system absolutely despises spineless cowards!” 2. “Rowan! What on earth did you tell the police? I’ll tear your lying mouth apart!” As soon as we stepped out of the precinct, Richard finally dropped his mask of calm indifference. He was no longer content to let my mother and me fight it out while he stayed comfortably in the shadows. My stepfather swung his hand toward my face. I instinctively ducked, dodging the blow. Off-balance, Richard stumbled forward, nearly face-planting on the concrete. I watched his resentment level instantly spike by 30 points. The system flooded my vision with notifications of beginner gift boxes, too fast for me to read. Furious, Richard turned to Helen, who immediately grabbed his arm and began scolding me. “Rowan, how could you? You promised me you’d take the fall for Phoebe! How could you tell the officers that Phoebe was the one driving? How could you accuse us of forcing you into it?” “I am so incredibly disappointed in you! How could you go back on your word?” “You’ve ruined your sister’s life!” My mother was practically trembling with rage, but oddly enough, her resentment counter didn’t budge. I didn’t get any bonus points from her. In my past life, Phoebe had been jailed for hit-and-run, but because the victim’s family accepted a hefty financial settlement and signed a liability release, her sentence was light. This time, however, things went differently. The victim’s family flatly refused any money, pointing at Phoebe and screaming, “We want justice, not your blood money!” Without the settlement release, Phoebe faced a much longer sentence. Richard absolutely loathed me for it. My mother wept, accusing me of destroying her marriage and ruining the rest of her life with my selfishness. I offered a faint, dry smile. “So, if I don’t go to prison, everyone else’s lives fall apart?” “Then let them fall apart.” Furious, Richard kicked me out of the house. My mother sneered as I packed my things. “Do you honestly think you can survive out there without Richard’s money? You’ve lived a pampered life for too long. You have no idea how brutal the real world is.” Later, sitting in my new apartment, I stared blankly at the beginner rewards interface. Honestly, I had a pretty good idea of how brutal the world could be. [Total Family Resentment: 50 / 2,000] [Target Mother Resentment: 0 / 500] The system clarified that a score of zero didn’t mean she didn’t dislike me; it was simply because my mother’s baseline resentment had been reset to zero for the trial run. “If your mother actually loved you, her resentment score would be in the negatives,” the system chirped. I looked down and opened the beginner packages. Since these points hadn’t come from my primary target, my mother, the reward pool was limited. I chose a rental apartment voucher and a daily allowance of $150, which was non-cumulative and reset at midnight. The other two boxes yielded a physical stamina boost and a mystery box. Not knowing what physical stamina would do, I redeemed it anyway. As for the mystery box, I somehow pulled an Exoneration Voucher. The system shrieked in my head, “No! Absolutely not! I am banning this item! You cannot use this voucher!” The voucher was essentially a reality-warping tool that could alter societal norms. I frowned. “Why would I ever use something like that?” I dragged it to the recycle bin, converting it into extra physical stamina points. Such a voucher would rewrite the collective consciousness of society. If I used it, it would mean every hit-and-run driver in the world would suddenly be deemed innocent. I wasn’t that desperate. 3. “Where did Rowan get the money for that apartment?” Richard demanded over the phone, his voice sharp with suspicion. The voice on the other end explained, “She’s renting it, Mr. Bennett. We confirmed the lease agreement.” “Where does she get the money to rent a luxury apartment like that?!” Richard slammed his hand on the desk. His daughter was suffering in a holding cell, while Rowan was living comfortably in a high-rise. He had kicked her out hoping she would end up on the streets, begging for scraps, not enjoying a luxury lifestyle. “Well, Ms. Rowan is a young, beautiful woman. She might have found some alternative means of support.” That insinuation seemed to soothe Richard’s ego slightly, taking some of the sting out of his anger. My mother, Helen, stood nearby, barely daring to breathe. The moment Richard hung up, he turned on her. “Did you give her the money for that place?” “No! I swear I didn’t! I haven’t given her a single cent!” Richard eyed her suspiciously. “I don’t believe you. She’s your daughter. How could you not help her behind my back?” Helen forced a submissive smile. “A child who doesn’t listen isn’t a daughter to me.” I hadn’t expected my mother to track me down. Richard was threatening to divorce her, furious that she had given him false hope only to fail him. He claimed he would have preferred not knowing about the possibility of a scapegoat at all. My mother begged me to change my statement and take Phoebe’s place. She wept, “This is the only family I have left, Rowan. Do you really want to destroy your mother’s last chance at happiness?” A fresh wave of disappointment washed over me. I felt a sudden urge to play with her mind. “Actually, I might know a way to get Phoebe off the hook.” Helen’s eyes lit up with hope. But the words felt heavy in my mouth, and I quickly lost interest in the game. “Never mind. It’s probably not a good idea anyway.” My mother’s hopeful expression instantly shattered into raw fury. [System Alert: Primary target’s resentment +1 point.] [Congratulations! First progress made on the main quest.] [Main Quest Reward Progress: 1/50. Total Progress: 1/500.] I looked at her, bringing up an old wound. “That car was supposed to be my graduation gift. Why did you give it to Phoebe instead?” “Oh, don’t be so petty,” Helen muttered, her eyes narrowing with familiar disdain. “You’re my biological daughter. Phoebe isn’t. It’s only natural that I treat her a little better to keep the peace. You have no idea how hard it is to be a stepmother!” I let out a soft, hollow laugh. My chest felt numb. “Well, I suppose it was karma. I was the one who was supposed to get into an accident. Phoebe just took my place. Since that car is so protective of its owner, you should have her return it to me.” “Is that why you framed her, Rowan?” “Framed her?” I scoffed. “You tried to coerce me into taking the fall for a crime I didn’t commit. That is framing.” “It was your car in the first place!” Helen snapped. “And Phoebe took it. Because you gave it to her,” I countered. My mother continued to pelt me with cold insults. Years ago, this tactic would have torn me apart. Now, it just felt pathetic. Strangely, her resentment counter didn’t rise any further during our argument. I felt a pang of frustration, wondering if I was failing the system’s objective. Just then, Richard called her. “I managed to get Phoebe out on bail.” Using his connections and money, Richard had secured Phoebe’s temporary release. The first thing Phoebe did was call Helen. The moment my mother answered the phone, my system interface flashed. Her resentment toward me instantly jumped by 5 points. [Congratulations! Primary target’s resentment progress: 6/500.] 4. When Phoebe met Helen, she broke down in tears, her voice filled with accusation. “Mom, you promised Rowan would help me! How could you just watch her back out and let her ruin my life?” “I’ll handle it, sweetie. Don’t worry. Rowan is my daughter, and I know exactly how to deal with her.” Phoebe wept gracefully, which broke Richard’s heart. Helen comforted her with endless warmth. Watching them together, they looked like a perfect, loving family. I stood to the side, once again feeling like an unwanted intruder. But to confirm whether my mother’s resentment toward me could only be triggered by Phoebe, I forced myself to stay. Phoebe looked up, her face a portrait of fragile innocence. “You’re so good to me, Mom. You’re the best stepmother in the world. Even my real mother couldn’t have been better.” I smiled mockingly and took a seat. The system whispered in my ear, “If you complete the main quest, you can unlock and redeem the ‘Mother’s Love’ reward.” “No,” I replied instantly in my mind. I had absolutely no desire to receive any affection from a reformed version of this woman. I would rather have nothing. The system sighed with pity. “What I mean is, I can transfer you to another world. You can start over as a baby and have a truly perfect mother.” A spark of genuine motivation finally ignited within me. Helen walked over to me, her brow furrowed. “Rowan, help Phoebe. Do it for me. Have some pity on your mother. It wasn’t easy raising you, and I finally have a stable home. You wouldn’t want to destroy that, would you?” I looked her dead in the eye. “I don’t pity you.” “I pity myself.” 5. Being out on bail didn’t mean Phoebe was safe. She was barred from leaving the city and had to report to the police station regularly. Within days, she grew visibly gaunt. Their defense attorney pulled Richard aside and explained that the key to the case lay with the victim’s family. If they could reach a private settlement and secure a signed release, Phoebe’s sentence would be minimal. When Richard went to negotiate, he finally discovered why the victim’s family was so unyielding. In her arrogance, before realizing I wouldn’t take the fall, Phoebe had visited the family privately and mocked them, trying to provoke them so they would demand a harsher sentence to ensure I stayed in prison longer. Her scheme had backfired spectacularly. Now, the grieving family was so enraged they refused any financial compensation, demanding the maximum penalty for the driver. Richard placed immense pressure on Helen. “Your stepfather is going to divorce me, Rowan,” Helen cried, tossing a set of papers onto the table in front of me. “Please, just help me this once. For my happiness. Once you’re out, we’ll still be a family!” “Will you die if you’re not married?” I asked coldly. “Can you not survive without Richard Bennett? You’re asking your own daughter to go to prison for his spoiled kid, and you don’t see any problem with that?” Helen looked defensive. “What’s wrong with that? We’re mother and daughter. There shouldn’t be any grudges between us. You’re just being petty and holding a grudge.” “Phoebe isn’t my own flesh and blood. If I don’t treat her well, the whole world will call me a wicked stepmother.” “Let’s legally sever our relationship,” I said quietly. “I wish you, Richard, and Phoebe a wonderful life together.” Helen rolled her eyes. “I’m your mother. Stop talking nonsense. I went through hell to give birth to you. You can’t just sever ties whenever you feel like it. It doesn’t work that way.” I pulled a document from my drawer and placed it on the table. It stated that I would resolve Phoebe’s legal crisis on one condition: Helen had to sign an agreement to legally sever all familial ties with me, waiving all future support obligations and becoming total strangers. “Rowan, you really want to cut me out of your life?” Helen’s face went pale. Her quiet, obedient daughter had suddenly turned completely cold. “Did someone put you up to this? Don’t listen to those gossipers, sweetie. I love you.” “You’re my daughter. I worked so hard to raise you. What will I do without you in the future?” I pulled the agreement back. “So, you actually care about having me as a daughter?” I smiled. “Good. Because I have no intention of saving Phoebe anyway.” Panicking, Helen snatched the paper and scribbled her signature. To her, it was probably just a worthless piece of paper she could tear up whenever she pleased. Her signature stared back at me from the bottom of the page. My heart turned to ice. “Are you really going to take the fall for Phoebe now?” she asked, her eyes full of desperate expectation. “I will negotiate with the victim’s family,” I said flatly. “I will do my best to get her sentence reduced.” Helen froze, realizing she had been played. “You ungrateful brat!” she screamed. “How dare you lie to your own mother!” “Negotiate? What good is that? She’ll still have to go to prison!” “Are you even human?” I looked at her with pure, unadulterated disgust. My expression caught her off guard. In all my years of suffering her abuse, I had never looked at her with such visceral revulsion. For the first time, Helen looked genuinely terrified.

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