Category: English

1 I did three years in prison for my wife, Ava Deveaux. When I got out, my “launch party” bonus for her new company was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. But then I saw my colleague, Leo Vance, open his envelope. He got a single bill, too. Relief washed over me, and I spent the rest of the day happily helping Ava with the grand opening. That night, though, I was scrolling through social media when I saw Leo’s latest post. It was a picture of a check. The caption read: “Cheers to the official launch! The boss is incredibly generous. A ten-million-dollar bonus to start things off right!” The comments section was a flood of envy and congratulations, wishing him and the “boss” all the best. When I confronted Ava, she didn’t even try to explain. She just pushed me away. “You just got out of prison, Ethan. It wouldn’t look good for us to be public right now. Let’s keep our marriage a secret for a while. At the office, you’ll just call me Ms. Deveaux.” A moment later, her phone pinged. She’d just liked Leo’s post. I wiped a tear from my eye and made a call to her biggest rival. “I’m in,” I said into the phone. “From now on, I work for you.” … “You were willing to do three years of hard time for Ava Deveaux’s career,” the voice on the other end said. “Why the sudden change of heart? Why come to me?” “I seem to remember she promised you a department manager position when you got out. Are you sure you want to throw that away?” I rubbed the cheap, crinkled one-dollar bill between my fingers, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Yeah. I’m sure.” Just as the words left my mouth, Ava appeared in front of me, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What don’t you want anymore?” I calmly ended the call and told her the truth. “The department manager position.” A flicker of something—relief?—crossed her complex expression. “Good. I was planning on giving it to Leo anyway. You can start as a junior assistant.” Her words made me frown. I had endured three years behind bars for her company. She had sworn to me, promised me that the manager role would be mine the day I walked free. Now, I was being demoted to an errand boy. And as she shattered that three-year-old promise, there wasn’t a trace of guilt in her eyes. A hot sting flooded my eyes, and a sharp pain bloomed in my chest. Seeing my silence, Ava pulled a document from her briefcase and tossed it onto the coffee table. “This is a secret marriage agreement,” she said, her tone breezy and dismissive. “It’s for the good of the company.” The words SECRET MARRIAGE AGREEMENT burned into my vision. The day before I went to prison, she had rushed me to City Hall to get our marriage license. The only thing that got me through those three years was the dream of the life we would build when I was free. Now, it seemed I was an embarrassment. A secret to be hidden away. I let out a silent, self-mocking laugh and reached for the pen on the table. Ava’s head snapped around. She frowned, watching my hand move toward the signature line. The man who had once wanted to shout their marriage from the rooftops was now signing it away without a second thought. She instinctively pressed her hand down on mine, her next words catching me off guard. “You’re not even going to think about it?” Without looking up, I signed my name. She stared at the signed agreement, a strange, unreadable silence falling over her. After a moment, she cleared her throat, her voice softening. “Don’t worry, Ethan. Once the company is stable, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” I gave a noncommittal grunt. Just then, the company group chat lit up. An announcement: Leo Vance had been appointed the company’s first Department Manager. Congratulations poured in. [Leo, you’ve been by Ms. Deveaux’s side this whole time. We all saw how hard you worked. You earned this!] [I’m calling it now. Department Manager today, Mr. Deveaux tomorrow! We’ll have to be extra nice to you from now on.] Leo responded with a smug emoji, a silent confirmation. Then, another message popped up, this one clearly aimed at me. [I think Ethan is the lucky one here. Gets out of jail and our boss gives him a job as an assistant. She’s so generous!] He knew the truth. This was pure mockery. I forced my eyes away from the screen, only to see Ava staring at her own phone. The smile on her face was a kind of gentle, radiant warmth I had never seen directed at me. It made me wonder. Was this secret marriage for the company, or was it for Leo? To honor our new “agreement,” Ava moved from our master bedroom into the guest room. She laid out other rules, too: We were not to be seen arriving in the same car. We were not to speak at the office, where I was only to address her as “Ms. Deveaux.” And, most importantly, her relationship with Leo was “just an act for the public,” and I was not to “make a scene.” After laying down the law, she disappeared for three days. It wasn’t until I called in sick with a fever that she finally bothered to phone me. “You’ve only been back at work for a few days and you’re already taking time off? Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” she said, her voice sharp. “You’ll have to get yourself to a doctor. I’m out of town on business. I can’t take you.” It was exactly what I expected. I mumbled a weak “okay.” But before I could hang up, a familiar male voice called out from her end of the line. “Ava, darling, can you come help me with my tie?” She ended the call abruptly, but not before I heard the rustle of her moving quickly toward him. I checked Leo’s social media. He had a new profile picture. It was a matching half of a couple’s photo. Ava’s was the other half. I remembered all the times I had begged her to use a couple’s avatar with me. She always had an excuse: it was tacky, childish, unprofessional. For some reason, my silence seemed to drive her crazy. My phone blew up with a storm of texts and missed calls from her. I sent a single reply: [I’m on my personal time. Please respect that, Ms. Deveaux.] After getting an IV drip at an urgent care clinic, I went back to the office. As usual, my coworkers treated me with a cool distance, piling their grunt work onto my desk. In their eyes, I was just some ex-con lucky enough to be taken in by the boss. I was expected to earn my keep. I took a deep breath and began clearing out my desk drawer. All the little couple’s trinkets, photos, and matching mugs went into a black trash bag. If I’d known they would never see the light of day, I wouldn’t have bothered bringing them. I was on my way to the dumpster when Ava returned. Before I could react, she grabbed my arm, her grip furious, and dragged me into the stairwell. Her eyes landed on the trash bag in my hand, and her face darkened. “You have time to take out the trash, but you don’t have time to answer my calls?” The strong scent of a man’s expensive cologne clung to her, and I instinctively took a step back. “I replied to your text,” I said calmly. My placid response seemed to ignite her rage. “Why would you call me ‘Ms. Deveaux’ in a text?” What was the difference between a text and in person? She was the one who made the rule. Why was she angry that I was following it? Seeing I had no intention of explaining, she let out a cold laugh. “You know I can’t stand petty, insecure men, Ethan. Don’t become someone I despise.” With that, she snatched the bag from my hand and slammed it onto the concrete floor. The crash echoed in the empty stairwell as she stormed away. Staring at the shattered picture frame and the matching mugs we’d once bought, my heart fractured right along with them. Our years together were ending in the same broken heap. I cleaned up the mess, then called a lawyer and had him draft divorce papers. When I had the document in hand, I printed a copy and walked to her office. I was steeling myself to knock when the door swung open. I met her cold, impatient gaze and held the papers out to her. “Sign this when you have a moment.” Ava didn’t even glance at the first page. She flipped straight to the back, scrawled her signature, and handed it back as if it were a meaningless memo. “You’re coming with me to a client dinner tonight,” she ordered. “Be useful. You’ll be blocking drinks for us.” I was confused. Ava could drink anyone under the table. Why would she need me to run interference? Before I could ask, Leo popped up from behind her, a smug grin on his face. “You’re so thoughtful, boss! You remembered I have a cold and can’t drink.” He casually sat next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulder. He glanced at me, then complained with a theatrical pout, “Ava worries too much. It’s just a little cold, but she wouldn’t let me work or drink. I had to beg her to bring me to this dinner.” Ava responded by playfully tapping his nose. “Just make sure you take your medicine later, and don’t complain about it.” They looked exactly like a couple in the throes of a new romance. Her tenderness toward him was something I had never experienced. Clutching the signed divorce papers, a strange sense of peace settled over me. At the restaurant, after Ava exchanged pleasantries with our potential client, she began the introductions. “This is Leo Vance, our department manager.” When she got to me, the client’s brow furrowed. “I remember this man. He went to prison for financial fraud, didn’t he? You’re a very loyal person, Ms. Deveaux.” Ava tensed, shot me a look, and then forced a smile, offering no correction. Throughout the dinner, she and Leo were practically glued together. She kept shooting me pointed looks, signaling for me to intercept any drinks headed his way. At one point, another guest, noticing their intimacy, teased, “You two make a lovely couple, Ms. Deveaux. Are you married?” The question hung in the air. Ava’s eyes darted to me, a flicker of uncertainty in them. Then, almost in perfect unison, we both said: “No.” Even though we’d given the same answer, her head whipped around to stare at me, her eyes wide with shock. When the client excused himself to the restroom, my phone buzzed with a text from her: [It’s all an act, Ethan. Don’t take it personally.] She might have been acting, but I was telling the truth. After all, she had already signed the papers. I read the text and placed my phone face down on the table. Across from me, Ava started to rise, but I turned and headed for the restroom myself. Coming out of a stall, I ran right into Leo. He stood with his arms crossed, the very picture of a victor. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a man, Ethan,” he sneered. “Your own wife is so ashamed of you she won’t even admit you exist. If I were you, I’d be too embarrassed to show my face.” I ignored him, washing my hands. “That’s really not your concern, Leo.” I dried my hands and moved to leave, but he stepped in front of me, looking me up and down with disdain. “Shouldn’t the boss’s husband be wearing something other than rags?” He feigned a look of realization. “Oh, right. I forgot. Ava must have spent all her money on my custom designer wardrobe. My bad.” The expensive labels he wore were a constant reminder of the difference between ten million dollars and one. In that moment, all the bitterness and humiliation I had bottled up exploded. I turned and fled. Back in the private room, I grabbed my coat, ready to leave. “Don’t go yet,” Ava said, rushing to stop me, her voice suddenly gentle. “I’ll drive you home later.” I was about to refuse when Leo burst back into the room, a look of panic on his face, instantly drawing everyone’s attention. Ava let go of me and hurried to his side. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Leo frantically patted down his pockets and rummaged through his bag before crying out in alarm. “My watch! My custom timepiece is gone!” The room descended into a flurry of activity as everyone began searching. “It was a birthday gift from Ava!” Leo lamented loudly. “It’s worth over three hundred thousand dollars! I can’t believe I lost it!” I didn’t know what game he was playing, but I just wanted out. As I reached the door, he blocked my path. “Let me just check your bag, Ethan,” he said, a smug look in his eye. “Just to clear you of any suspicion, of course.” I knew I hadn’t taken it. “I’m tired, Leo. You can look for it yourself.” I tried to push past him, but he grabbed my bag. In the struggle, its contents spilled across the floor. And there, among my scattered belongings, was a watch. I stared at it in shock, then looked up to meet Leo’s triumphant, mocking gaze. “Why are you framing me?” I demanded. I looked around. Everyone was staring at me with contempt. Especially Ava. Her brow was furrowed in a deep V, her eyes filled with disgust. “I didn’t take it,” I said, my voice desperate as I looked at her. But my words were meaningless against the glittering “proof” on the floor. Leo picked up the watch, his voice filled with theatrical hurt. “This watch means so much to me, Ethan. How could you steal it? I thought prison would have changed you, but I see you’re still the same criminal, willing to do anything for money. I don’t think I can feel safe working with you anymore…” His little performance turned the atmosphere in the room toxic. The client was the first to speak, his voice sharp with disapproval. “Ms. Deveaux, I think we’ll have to reconsider this partnership.” With that, he and his team stormed out. I started to go after them to explain, but a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Ava had slapped me. I looked at her, stunned, but there was no regret in her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re this greedy,” she spat. “I brought you here to help, not to steal!” Her words sealed my fate. Didn’t she know me? After all these years, didn’t she know my character? Had she completely forgotten why I went to prison in the first place? Looking at the fury in her eyes, I knew she would never believe me. I gave a bitter, broken laugh and held out my phone to her. “Then call the police.” She glanced at the phone, then back at me, her brow furrowed. She didn’t move. In that long, silent stare-down, I felt like I was finally seeing the real her. After a moment, she scoffed. “Unbelievable.” She turned her back on me, gently taking the watch and fastening it back onto Leo’s wrist, murmuring soft, comforting words to him as she led him away. I was left alone in the room with the wreckage. I gathered my scattered belongings and went straight to the airport. In the deserted terminal in the middle of the night, I was about to type up my resignation when a notification from Ava beat me to it. It was a termination notice. Her message was laced with fury: [Don’t bother coming into the office again. Stay home and think about what you’ve done.] The absurdity of it made me laugh. Without a second thought, I took a picture of the divorce agreement, signed by both of us, and sent it to her. I attached a message: [Ava, I wish you and Leo a lifetime of happiness together.] [But first, you’re going to finalize this divorce with me. Otherwise, I’ll sue you for bigamy.] The second the message sent, my phone started ringing. It was Ava. A frantic, desperate flood of calls.

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I’m decidedly average-looking, but my boyfriend is Steve Bergman, the most sought-after heir in the city’s old-money circle. Two months ago, on my birthday, fueled by a bit of wine, he took me to a hotel. After that night, he went completely silent on me. When I went to find him, I overheard him complaining to his friend that once my clothes were off, there was nothing to look at. He was terrified I’d cling to him and was planning on ghosting me completely. He even mocked himself: “Was I blind before? I passed on all those gorgeous women and somehow got hooked on her.” You think I’d let that slide? From that moment, I began the quiet, painful process of detoxing him from my heart. So when Steve, after ignoring me for months while he partied with some freshman girl, finally came back to break up with me… I announced my new relationship the very next day. He was speechless. 1 Two months ago, on my birthday, Steve Bergman and I ended up in a hotel room, thanks to a little liquid courage. My period decided to crash the party, so we didn’t go all the way, but it still felt like our relationship had taken a quantum leap forward. I’ve always been a reserved person, my world revolving around academics. Steve pursued me for two years, and we dated for another two. Over that time, I’d grown to depend on him more and more. After our near-miss in that hotel room, my natural instinct was to cling to him, to be closer. But that’s when I noticed it. He was barely responding to my texts. At first, I didn’t suspect anything. His devotion to me was obvious to everyone. I just assumed something was wrong at home. So, after class, I skipped the welcome party for my study group and took a cab to his house to check on him. I had the code to his place; he’d made me memorize it not long after we got together. I let myself in. The living room was empty. As I headed upstairs, I heard voices coming from the study. The door was slightly ajar. Sometimes I think I must have incredible luck to have stumbled upon that moment. Steve was in there with his best friend, Mason, planning how to dump me. A cigarette dangled from the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Back in school, all I saw was how smart she was. I was obsessed with that cool, untouchable vibe she had,” he said, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips. “But then, with her clothes off, under the light… I realized she’s actually ugly.” “Seriously, man, was I blind? I passed on all those bombshells and got addicted to her of all people.” Mason shrugged. “Who knows? I figured you were just tired of the usual and wanted to try something different.” “Think about it,” he continued. “Every girl we grew up with looks like a model. You probably got visually fatigued. A nerdy-but-plain girl is a good palate cleanser. At least now, look, your vision’s back to normal.” Steve took a long drag from his cigarette. “You know, I think you’re right. I came so close, man. So close to sleeping with her.” “And knowing Clara, with her by-the-book personality, if I had, she would’ve latched onto me for life. The thought is terrifying.” “I’ll just ignore her for a while. Wait for her to have a huge meltdown, then break up with her. It’ll save a lot of trouble.” He rubbed his arms as if shaking off something disgusting. I just stood there, watching it all, a buzzing roar filling my head. Because of my father’s infidelity, I’ve never had a high opinion of men. Growing up, my only goal was to study hard, get out, and build a life where I could depend on myself. Then Steve had bulldozed his way into my life. He was this brilliant, dazzling trust-fund kid who threw his pride to the wind, confessing his feelings for me again and again. Even my best friend said it had to be true love, that Steve was different. I believed her. And now, I was the punchline to a joke. Tears welled up as I stared at his handsome, radiant face. I’m a person, not a block of wood. We had been inseparable for two years, and my feelings for him had only grown. That night in the hotel, when Steve held me, his voice thick with emotion as he called me baby, I thought my heart would burst with happiness. But here I was, dreaming of forever, while he was repulsed by my body. What a fucking joke. My pride wouldn’t let me storm in and make a scene. I quietly closed the door. I walked for what felt like miles, my legs burning, until I finally collapsed onto a bench at a bus stop. My heart felt like it was being shredded by a dull knife. As if on cue, the heavens opened up, and a torrential downpour began. Across the street, a department store was blasting music, the lyrics a perfect, cruel soundtrack to my life. Let the rain fall down, let it hide the pain on my face. Let’s just end it all, and be honest, were you the selfish one all along? Fine. Let’s end it, Steve. You want a clean break? You’ve got it. And I’m not just going to break it off. I’m going to do it beautifully. Otherwise, this high-achieving brain of mine would be a complete waste. 2 The next day, Steve still hadn’t contacted me. This was clearly step one in his grand ghosting plan. I had no idea how long he intended to ignore me, but I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for his call like an idiot. First, I unpinned his chat from the top of my message list. Then, I changed our matching profile pictures. The second I did, a message popped up. Steve: ? I didn’t reply. Another one came through. Why’d you change your picture? I ignored that one too. He must have gotten bored, because he went silent after that. I muted his social media feed and then completely overhauled my study schedule. I had sacrificed so much time for our relationship, skipping study group sessions to the point where my professor was getting annoyed with me. No more. I wasn’t going to let some guy derail my future. I packed my schedule with review sessions and competition training, then headed to the lab. A few of my senior lab partners were already there, along with someone new. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. The moment I walked in, Mark, one of the seniors, waved me over. “Clara! Clara, you have to meet the new guy.” “This is Bob. He’s a freshman in the computer science department. He won the gold medal at the national competition last year, and his entrance scores were even higher than yours. This is a meeting of giants! Come on, you two, hug it out. I’ll take a picture for posterity.” Bob was two years younger than me, but he was incredibly tall and devastatingly handsome. The kind of face that could launch a thousand ships. Kids these days, I thought to myself. Great nutrition, amazing genes. They just keep getting better. As I was musing, he extended a hand. His fingers were long and elegant. “Hi, I’m Bob. I’ve heard a lot about you.” “You’re too kind,” I said, shaking his hand. “Just call me Clara. And you, my friend, are seriously impressive.” It was true. The national competition was a gathering of the best of the best. If Bob’s score was higher than mine, it meant his overall skills surpassed my own. And knowing Mark, he was probably being modest about it. Our little team had a bright future. Well, if my love life was a disaster, at least my career was looking up. It was a silver lining, I guess. I pushed my personal drama aside and dove into an intense training session with Bob and the others. By the end of the day, I was blown away by Bob’s abilities. He was young, but he had the calm, steady demeanor of a veteran. No matter how complex the problem, he tackled it with unruffled confidence. We left the lab together. As we walked, Bob, clutching a stack of books, looked down at me. “Clara.” “Yeah?” “I’ve actually… noticed you for a while now.” “Oh?” “This might be a little forward, but… do you have a boyfriend?”

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During Amber Lin’s darkest year, campus tyrant Rex Shannon assaulted her and posted the video online. I stopped her from jumping off a campus rooftop. She spent five years devouring law books, becoming a brilliant attorney. At the peak of her success, she publicly proposed to me. The media called us the perfect couple. But at City Hall, Rex pulled up in a sports car, kissed her possessively, and smirked at me. “Thanks, buddy. Couldn’t have gotten this top-tier girlfriend without you. You can be our wedding witness.” My blood froze. Amber lowered her eyes—her silence said everything. In that moment, I understood. 1 Rex’s hand was still on Amber’s waist, a clear declaration of ownership. I stared at her, the last five years of my life flashing before my eyes, a dizzying montage that ended with the image of her pale, haunted face on that rooftop. “Leo,” she had whispered that day, “if I’m going to live, I’ll live only for you.” Now, she wouldn’t even give me the courtesy of a glance. Her attention was fixed on the hem of her dress, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle. It was the dress I had picked out for her. She’d said getting the license should still feel special. The irony was a physical blow. “Leo, don’t make a scene,” she finally said, her voice unnervingly calm. “Let’s just go inside and get this over with. Don’t give people a reason to talk.” Her words made Rex laugh. He reached into the pocket of his ridiculously flashy jacket, pulled out a stack of photographs, and fanned them into my face. They fluttered to the ground around my feet. Each one was a picture of them from the night before, in a hotel room. On the sprawling bed, Amber, wearing a scandalously flimsy slip dress, was kissing Rex with a raw, desperate passion I had never seen. A bomb went off in my head. I remembered last night. Amber, who rarely drank, had gotten completely wasted. She came home and kissed me with a wild, frantic energy, clinging to me as if she were drowning. “Leo, I love you, I only love you…” she’d repeated over and over, as if trying to convince me, or maybe herself. In the middle of it, her phone had buzzed. The moment she saw the caller ID, the color drained from her face. She shoved me away. I reached for her, my voice hoarse. “What’s wrong?” She avoided my eyes, her voice laced with panic. “We’re getting married tomorrow. I’m… I’m just a little nervous. I need to be alone for a bit.” She had fled our apartment and never came back. It wasn’t nerves. She was rushing to keep an appointment with another man. I bent down, my movements stiff, and picked up every single photograph. I walked over to Amber. She instinctively took a step back. A bitter laugh escaped me. I tore the photos into a thousand tiny pieces. Then, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Inside was the diamond ring I’d spent three months’ salary on. As Amber’s pupils contracted in shock, I took two steps back and tossed the box into a nearby storm drain. The soft splash was the final, definitive end to our five years. “Leo!” Amber’s face was now ashen. “What do you think you’re doing?” “What am I doing?” I repeated, the words choking me. “You’re asking me what I’m doing?” Rex stepped in front of her, jabbing a finger in my face. “Don’t push your luck, kid. If you ruin my day, you won’t be walking away from here.” I ignored him. My eyes were fixed on Amber, the girl I thought I had pulled back from hell itself. I was wrong. She’d never left. She’d just found a new way to live in it, in a gilded cage Rex had built for her. I turned, reached into my briefcase, and pulled out another file. This was the real wedding gift I had prepared for her. A comprehensive dossier detailing Rex Shannon’s history of campus bullying, business fraud, rape, and bribery. For five years, while I worked myself to the bone to pay for her education, I had been quietly gathering every scrap of evidence. I had thought that letting her be the one to put this monster behind bars would be the ultimate catharsis, the final act of her rebirth. But now, she was standing with the monster. I walked straight to a police officer who was handling a minor traffic dispute nearby. Under Amber and Rex’s stunned gazes, I handed him the heavy file. “Officer, I’d like to file a report.” I pointed first at Rex, then at Amber. “Against Rex Shannon. For bullying, rape…” Amber’s composure finally shattered. She rushed toward me, trying to snatch the file from my hands, but the officer blocked her way. She looked at me, her eyes void of guilt or remorse. There was only a cold, burning hatred. Then, without a backward glance, she got into Rex’s obscenely red sports car. The sound of sirens filled the air as I was escorted into the back of a police cruiser. Through the window, I watched the red car carrying my fiancée disappear down the street. My bride had run off with her rapist. And I, on my wedding day, was on my way to jail. 2 “The chain of evidence is weak, and too much time has passed. It’ll be very difficult to build a case.” In the sterile interrogation room, a young officer shook his head as he looked through the file I’d given him. I sat on the cold metal chair, the words not registering. My mind was a relentless loop of the last five years. To send Amber to the best law school overseas, I’d worked three jobs a day. Construction sites in the morning, washing dishes at a restaurant at night, and food delivery in the dead of morning. She suffered from severe PTSD. Nightmares would rip her from sleep, and she’d wake up screaming. I would hold her, night after night, whispering, “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe.” I thought I had pulled her from the abyss. I never imagined she would willingly jump back in. The door to the room creaked open. Amber walked in, flanked by a high-powered legal team. Her makeup was flawless, her expression unreadable. She looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. A ridiculous spark of hope ignited in my chest. Was she here to help me? Did she still care? My delusion was shattered a second later. She placed a crisp legal document on the table in front of me, her voice as cold as the steel table. “Leo, I am Mr. Rex Shannon’s legal counsel. I am formally requesting that you retract your baseless accusations and issue a public apology to my client. Your actions constitute slander and false accusation.” I stared at the document. The words “legal counsel” burned into my retinas. I looked up at the face I had loved for five years, my voice trembling. “Amber, have you forgotten what you said to me on that rooftop? You said you would make monsters like Rex pay. You said you would use the law to protect people like you. Have you forgotten all of it?” Her expression didn’t flicker. A small, mocking smile touched her lips. “You have to look forward, Leo.” She sat across from me, crossing her legs elegantly. “I just want to survive. To live a better life. You can’t hold my future hostage with your cheap pity and our so-called past.” She paused, her face softening into a look of condescending pity. “Rex’s father has promised to invest thirty million dollars into my new law firm if I make this go away. Do you know what that means? It means I’ll be instantly catapulted to the top of my field.” I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice. “So, your idea of success is being his dog?” SLAP! The sound cracked through the quiet room. A fiery sting spread across my cheek. Amber’s hand was shaking, her chest heaving. My words had clearly struck a nerve. “What do you know?” she hissed. “This is a shortcut! A shortcut you, who will spend your entire life crawling in the dirt, could never understand!” She pulled a black credit card from her Hermès bag and threw it on the table. “There’s half a million dollars on this. Consider it repayment for the last five years. As of today, we’re even.” Half a million. She was buying my five years of devotion, of sacrifice, of love, for half a million dollars. I looked at the cold, plastic card and started to laugh. I laughed until tears pricked my eyes. I picked up the card between two fingers. As Amber watched, stunned, I snapped it in two. The pieces clattered onto the floor, a perfect metaphor for my shattered heart. I stood up, my voice low and steady. “Amber. We’re not even. You are in my debt. And I will make you pay it back. With interest.” Just then, the officer returned. “We’ve accepted your report,” he said. “As for the counter-accusation of slander against you, there’s currently insufficient evidence. You’re free to go. We’ll be in touch.” I pushed my chair back and walked out of the station without looking back. The moment I was outside, I deleted every trace of her from my phone. In my world, there was no more Amber Lin. There was only a debt, written in blood. 3 I went back to our “home”—the apartment I had renovated with my own blood and sweat, the place I thought would be our marital home. All of Amber’s things were gone. All that remained was the mess she’d left behind and the echoing emptiness of the rooms, mocking me. On the wall, our favorite photo was still hanging. In it, she was smiling, nestled in my arms, looking like she had the whole world. I took it down and threw it, along with every other memory of her, into the dumpster outside. My father was a respected judge, a man of unwavering integrity who had worked himself into an early grave. I had planned to visit his grave today, to show him our marriage certificate. I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and went to the cemetery. From a distance, I saw a group of people clustered around my father’s headstone. As I got closer, my feet froze. It was Rex and Amber. Rex was slowly pouring a bottle of expensive red wine over my father’s tombstone. The dark liquid snaked down the cold stone, staining it. “You old bastard,” he sneered. “You just had to go after my dad for that little issue, didn’t you? Cost our family a fortune. And look what happened. The star student you were so proud of ended up in my bed anyway.” He continued his vile tirade, and Amber… Amber just stood there. She held a file in her hands, her expression blank, her eyes empty, completely unmoved as my father’s final resting place was desecrated. Rage, pure and white-hot, flooded my senses. “Rex! I’ll kill you!” I shoved past his bodyguards and slammed my fist into his face. He staggered back, spitting blood. I lunged at him again, but his two massive bodyguards grabbed me, pinning me to the ground. The taste of dirt and grass filled my mouth. I struggled, my eyes locked on Amber. “Amber! Look at him! He’s insulting my father! The man who helped you! He’s insulting everything you once believed in! You said you wanted to be like him!” Amber finally moved. She walked over and crouched down in front of me, showing me the file in her hands. It was a collection of withdrawal applications. A list of names, all victims in the same case—a business fraud case against Rex’s father from years ago. My father had been the presiding judge, the one who had pushed for a full investigation against immense pressure. Now, Amber had used her legal prowess to intimidate or bribe every single victim into dropping their claims. It meant the case my father had died fighting for would be buried forever. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. Her voice was a whisper. “You have to look forward, Leo. Reopening old wounds doesn’t help anyone.” Rex wiped the blood from his lip and swaggered over. “Hahaha!” He wrapped an arm around Amber’s waist, his eyes glinting with triumph. “You hear that? Your old man was a stubborn fool. And now, your girlfriend has used everything he taught her to plug every legal hole for my family.” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper only I could hear. “You know, last night, she used that same clever mouth to please me. I wonder what your dad would think if he knew. Would he crawl out of his grave?” “I’ll kill you!” I lost control, lunging again. My fist never connected. His bodyguards slammed me back onto the ground. Rex placed his foot on my right hand and slowly, deliberately, began to grind his heel into it. “Aaargh!” The sound of my own bones cracking echoed through the cemetery, followed by my agonized scream. Pain exploded through my hand, radiating up my arm. My body convulsed, a cold sweat drenching my shirt. Just before I blacked out, I forced my head up to look at Amber. She just stood there, watching, a cold, indifferent spectator. The last thing I heard before the world went dark was her voice, speaking to Rex. “Don’t kill him. Keep him alive. He’s still useful.”

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For the woman he called his one true love—the one that got away—my father was willing to burn his entire life to the ground. He was even willing to leave my mother with nothing but the clothes on his back. My mother agreed to his terms. And I couldn’t wait to see if his high school sweetheart would still want him when he had absolutely nothing left to give. 1 The air in our house was thick and strange the moment I walked in. My father, Robert, a man who usually lived at the office, was home before me for the first time in years. My mother, Catherine, whose laughter was the constant soundtrack of our home, sat on the sofa, her face a mask of stone. “Chloe,” my mother said, her voice flat. “Your father and I are getting a divorce.” The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of me. As she laid out the story, the strange atmosphere sharpened into a sick, ugly clarity. Dad had a sweetheart back in high school, Diane. The one he never got over. She’d moved away, he’d lost his chance, and that was supposed to be that. Then my mother, Catherine Sterling, had fallen for him—young, brilliant, and dirt-poor. She’d pursued him relentlessly. Eventually, he’d married her. Now, Diane was back in town. A chance encounter had convinced my father it was destiny. He was ready to throw away twenty-five years of marriage for a ghost. “Let’s forget for a second that you haven’t seen this woman in almost thirty years,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Back then, you were a kid with empty pockets and she wasn’t interested. Now you’re the CEO of a publicly-traded company, and suddenly she is. Does she want you, Dad, or does she want the Sterling name?” “You will not disrespect Diane!” he snapped, his face flushing a deep red, as if I’d just desecrated a holy relic. He had never, not once in my entire life, spoken to me with that kind of fury. I was his pride and joy. I glanced at my mother, and in her eyes, I saw the same profound disappointment that was churning in my own gut. “Well,” I sighed, forcing a detached tone. “If you’ve both made your decision, it’s not my place to interfere. You’ll always be my parents, no matter what.” Relief washed over my father’s face. “Chloe, I knew you’d understand. You’ve always been such a good kid.” “But I should remind you,” I continued, my voice hardening slightly, “when you walk away from this marriage, you walk away with nothing. You’ve poured your heart and soul into Sterling Corp. Are you really willing to give all of that up?” My dad married into my mother’s family. He was a brilliant nobody when my mom, head-over-heels in love, insisted she had to marry him. My grandfather, a man who never did anything without a contract, had agreed on one condition: my father had to sign a rock-solid prenuptial agreement. If the marriage ever ended, for any reason, he would leave with nothing. My mother was a socialite, brilliant at hosting parties but clueless about business. The company had always been my father’s domain to run. But the shares, the actual ownership, had always been in my mother’s name and mine. He didn’t own a single one. A divorce meant he was out. Completely. On the big things, my mother had always been surprisingly clear-eyed. “Diane and I have true love,” he declared, his chest puffed out with a self-righteousness that made me want to scream. “True love isn’t measured in dollars and cents. I won’t take a dime of the Sterling money. I’ll build a new life for her with my own two hands!” It was a noble speech. But if he couldn’t build a life for himself when he was young, hungry, and brilliant, what made him think he could do it now, in middle age? Years at the helm of Sterling Corp had given him more than a platform; it had given him an ego. He truly believed he was Robert Quinn, the titan of industry, not Robert Quinn, the man who ran his wife’s company. “I respect your choice, Dad,” I said smoothly. “In that case, we should probably schedule a board meeting for next week. I’ll need to be appointed as the new CEO.” He stared at me, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? The board appointed me CEO. Since when is that your decision to make?” I let out a small, pitying laugh. “Dad, you seem to be confused. The board chose you because Mom and I, as the majority shareholders, voted for you. Now that you’re divorcing her, do you honestly believe we’ll continue to support you? A CEO with no shares doesn’t even have a right to a seat on the board, does he?” He was speechless, the wind knocked out of his sails. He turned to my mother, grasping for a lifeline. “Catherine, is this what you want, too?” My mother’s voice was more venomous than mine. “What part of ‘leaving with nothing’ are you struggling with? Once this divorce is final, you are no longer part of this family. Why on earth would we let you run our family’s company and draw a salary from our family’s profits? The audacity!” His face was beet red. “I am still Chloe’s father!” “Yes, you are,” I said, nodding brightly. “And don’t you worry. When you hit retirement age, I’ll make sure your support checks are mailed on time. I’ll take very good care of your twilight years, Dad. You won’t be left all alone.” My father was a man ruled by pride. That was the last straw. “I don’t need it!” he roared. “The Sterling money has nothing to do with me. I’ll build my own empire, and you’ll see! You’ll all see!” He stormed out. The moment the door slammed shut, my mother and I burst into laughter. When we finally caught our breath, I looked at her, genuinely curious. “Mom, you were so crazy about him back then. You went on a hunger strike against Grandpa to marry him. Why is it so easy to let him go now?” She shrugged, a wry smile playing on her lips. “Honey, I was blinded by a pretty face. Now, that potbelly of his is bigger than his head. The magic died a long time ago. I was staying out of a sense of duty. He’s the one who asked for the divorce. Why wouldn’t I celebrate?” Turns out the best cure for being blinded by love is watching the object of your affection lose his looks. 2 Mom and Dad signed the papers and filed them at the courthouse. All that was left was the mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period. In the meantime, Dad started moving his things out, preparing to build his new life with his old flame. While he was technically leaving with nothing, he’d made a good salary over the years and had his own personal savings. My mother, in a gesture of goodwill, didn’t touch his personal accounts. He wasn’t walking away literally penniless. But the houses, the stocks, the investments tied to the Sterling name—those were all hers. After buying a new house for himself and Diane, most of his savings were already gone. With the personal assets settled, it was time to deal with the company. The board meeting was set for the following week, and our PR team was already drafting strategies to manage the fallout from a CEO change at a publicly-traded company. I thought things were moving along smoothly. Then I walked into the office on Monday and stepped directly into a crisis. “Ms. Sterling,” my assistant, David, said, his face pale. “We have a problem. Horizon pulled out of the contract renewal.” “Horizon? They’ve been with us for twenty years. The renewal was a sure thing. What happened?” David looked down at his shoes, shuffling his feet. My voice dropped. “Tell me. Now.” “It was the new manager, Ms. Bishop. Mr. Quinn put her on the account. She… she told Horizon that the discount we offer them was too generous. She said Sterling is the only company that can meet their supply needs, so she was raising the price. Horizon refused to sign.” “Why wasn’t I told about something this important? And who the hell is Ms. Bishop? Why would HR hire such a monumental idiot?” “Mr. Quinn said she was to have full authority and report only to him,” David mumbled. “And… HR didn’t hire her. Mr. Quinn brought her in himself.” My father was a sharp businessman. He never made careless mistakes with major accounts. For him to bring in this “Ms. Bishop” and give her this much power meant something was very wrong. “Get me Mr. Davis from Horizon on the phone. I’ll handle this personally. And tell Ms. Bishop I want to see her in my office. Immediately.” While David was gone, I pulled up the new manager’s file. Brianna Bishop. A degree from some obscure overseas university that sounded more like a diploma mill than a real school. Zero prior work experience. And she’d been hired directly as a manager in the sales department. When had the standards at Sterling Corp. dropped so low? Then I saw it on her resume, listed under emergency contacts. Her mother: Diane Bishop. My father’s “one that got away.” Of course. 3 When my assistant showed Brianna Bishop into my office, she carried an air of undisguised contempt. She didn’t greet me, just dropped into the chair opposite my desk. “You wanted to see me, Ms. Sterling?” “You’re fired.” I had planned to question her, to understand her reasoning. Seeing her entitled smirk, I realized it was pointless. “On what grounds?” she demanded, her voice sharp with indignation. “Mr. Quinn hired me personally!” “On the grounds that you just lost us the Horizon account,” I said without looking up from the file in front of me. “Horizon has been a loyal partner for two decades. In one meeting, you managed to destroy that relationship. That’s a catastrophic failure. I’d fire you twice if I could.” “Sterling is a huge company. We have other clients,” she scoffed, as if she were explaining basic economics to a child. “And that discount we were giving Horizon was costing us a fortune. I was saving the company money!” Her complete and utter cluelessness was so staggering I almost laughed. Arguing with her would be like wrestling with a pig in mud. “David,” I said to my assistant, “please escort her to HR to process her termination.” Brianna refused to move. “You can’t fire me! Do you think Uncle Robert knows you’re doing this? He brought me in himself!” She shot David a dirty look as he approached. “Don’t touch me!” Then she pulled the ultimate card. “You’re only doing this because your parents are getting divorced, and you blame my mom! Well, guess what? My mom and Uncle Robert are getting married. I’m going to be his daughter soon, and this company is his! That means it will be half mine one day!” I pressed my fingers to my temples, feeling a headache bloom. If the daughter was this stupid, the mother couldn’t be a genius. What on earth did my father see in her? “David, what are you standing there for? Call security.” He fumbled for his phone, his face a mixture of shock and embarrassment at witnessing this family drama. Brianna saw him make the call and escalated, whipping out her own phone. “Uncle Robert, you have to come quick! They’re trying to throw me out!” My father, it turned out, was faster than building security. He burst into my office, his face etched with worry. The second he appeared, Brianna’s entire demeanor shifted. Her face crumpled, her voice became a fragile, wounded thing. “Uncle Robert,” she whimpered, “I don’t know what I did to make Chloe so angry. She just came in and said she was firing me.” “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll handle this,” he soothed, looking at her with heartbreaking tenderness before turning to me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Chloe, this is about us, the adults. You will not drag Brianna into it. She’s an innocent party here.” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Innocent? She used her connection to you to get a job she’s completely unqualified for, and her first act was to lose us one of our biggest clients. And you’re telling me she’s innocent?” My father clearly hadn’t heard about the Horizon deal. He glanced at Brianna, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. She immediately launched into her defense, her voice thick with fake tears. “Uncle Robert, I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to do what was best for you. Giving Horizon such a huge discount… it was your money I was trying to save.” I snorted. She wasn’t trying to save his money. She was trying to save what she thought would one day be her money.

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1 During my lunch break, I got a call from the police station. They asked if I owned a pet turtle. I told them I did. The officer’s tone immediately hardened. “You’re in serious trouble. You need to get down to the station right now.” I just stood there, phone in hand, completely bewildered. It’s just a turtle. What kind of trouble could I possibly be in? When I rushed into the station, the detective slapped a set of crime scene photos onto the table in front of me. “A child in your apartment building was struck on the head by a falling turtle. He has a fractured skull and intracranial bleeding. He’s in the ICU right now.” “Our preliminary investigation indicates it was your red-eared slider. The family is demanding two hundred thousand dollars in compensation.” My legs gave out from under me, and I nearly collapsed right there on the floor. … When the officer led me into the mediation room, the couple was already waiting. The moment the woman saw me, she completely lost it, lunging at me like a wild animal. The police had to physically restrain her. My mind was still reeling. The officer turned on a monitor and began playing the security footage. On the screen, children were chasing each other in the sun-drenched courtyard, their bright laughter echoing as if it could pierce right through the glass. Suddenly, a dark shape plummeted from the sky. Adults rarely look up; for children lost in the bliss of their game, it was an impossibility. There was no time to react. The boy at the front of the pack had just reached the building’s entrance when the dark shape slammed directly onto the crown of his head. In the next instant, he crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood gushed from the back of his head, blooming into a dark crimson stain on the concrete. The officer pushed the photos closer. The turtle’s shell was shattered from the impact, blood seeping from its mouth and nose. “The boy has a comminuted skull fracture with severe internal bleeding,” the officer said, his voice grim. “He’s in the ICU, and it’s touch and go whether he’ll even wake up.” “If we hadn’t confirmed you weren’t home at the time, ruling out assault, you wouldn’t be in mediation right now. You’d be in a holding cell.” I stared blankly at the couple across the table. The woman’s sobs were raw and ragged, and the man’s knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. Their son, barely old enough for elementary school, was now fighting for his life because of a freak accident. The doctor had told them his chances of survival were less than thirty percent. Guilt and terror coiled around my heart like a venomous snake. I had just bought a turtle. How could it have nearly cost a child his life? The officer tapped the table. “The family’s compensation request is straightforward: medical expenses incurred, future care costs, and damages for pain and suffering…” I flipped through the thick stack of medical bills. The initial craniotomy alone was over twenty thousand dollars. The daily ICU costs were astronomical, starting at two thousand a day, not including specialized medications and monitoring fees. And the worst part was, we didn’t know if or when the boy would ever wake up. “The family is asking for an initial sum of two hundred thousand dollars,” the officer continued. “And that’s just for now. If the boy suffers any long-term effects, you’ll be responsible for all future rehabilitation costs.” Two hundred thousand dollars. The number screamed in my head. I was just a regular person with a nine-to-five job, making maybe twenty-five hundred a month after taxes. Even if I starved myself and worked until I was eighty, I’d never save that much money. My hands trembled as I opened my banking app. My entire life savings consisted of the eighteen hundred dollars I’d painstakingly scrimped together. That money was for my mom’s knee surgery. She’d been suffering for years, the pain so bad on rainy days that she’d break out in a cold sweat. I had promised myself I’d get her the surgery this year so she could finally sleep through the night. Now, not only was that impossible, but I was suddenly saddled with a crushing, life-altering debt. My mother’s pain would have to wait. Forever, probably. The officer sighed. “Look, kid, I advise you to accept the settlement. If this goes to court, you will lose. You won’t go to jail, but the judgment from the court will be even higher. The family is only willing to mediate because they desperately need the money for the surgery right now.” My voice shook. “But… but how can you be so sure it was my turtle? The security camera didn’t show which floor it fell from. I can’t be the only person in the building with a turtle, right?” The more I spoke, the more convinced I was that there had been a mistake. But the officer slammed his palm on the table with a loud crack. “Enough! You’re still trying to deny it? Do you think we’d have you in here if we didn’t have solid proof?” My voice quivered, but I pushed back. “It doesn’t make sense! How could a turtle climb out of its tank in the bedroom, open the sliding glass door to the balcony, and then jump off? It’s not possible!” The officer paused, his expression shifting. “Are you certain the turtle was in your bedroom? Not on the balcony?” Of course, I was certain. The red-eared slider had originally belonged to my roommate, Chloe. She had just quit her job to move back home and study for the bar exam, but she couldn’t take the turtle with her. This morning, she had physically blocked the door, refusing to let me leave for work until I agreed to buy it from her. I was running late and finally caved, sending her twenty bucks and telling her to just leave the turtle in my bedroom. I remembered the tank was small, and the turtle kept trying to claw its way out. My room had a small balcony, and before I left, I specifically told her, “Please, whatever you do, don’t put it on the balcony. It’ll head for the light, and turtles have no depth perception. It’ll fall.” After I explained, the officers exchanged a look. The lead detective held up a hand, telling me to wait, and stepped out to make a phone call. Less than half an hour later, Chloe arrived at the station. She was hunched over, hiding behind a man in a sharp suit like a frightened rabbit. The man adjusted his expensive cufflinks, scanned the room, and pulled a gold-embossed business card from his briefcase. “A pleasure. I’m Marcus Thorne, Ms. Vance’s legal counsel.” The detective’s sharp gaze was fixed on Chloe. “You need to answer truthfully. Did you move the turtle you sold to this woman onto the balcony?” Chloe’s eyes darted nervously to her lawyer before she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. A wave of relief washed over me. I let out a long breath, feeling like I’d just been pulled back from the brink of death. The officer pressed on. “Did this woman specifically instruct you to keep the turtle in the bedroom and not, under any circumstances, to put it on the balcony?” Suddenly, Marcus stepped in front of Chloe, blocking the detective’s view. “Ms. Vance,” he said in a low voice, “I advise you to consider your answer carefully. If it is proven that you moved the turtle to the balcony against express instructions, you will be held solely liable for this incident.” He was cut off by a sharp command from the officer. “Watch yourself, counselor! Do not interfere with a police investigation.” Marcus just smirked. “Officer, as her attorney, I have the right to provide legal counsel. Besides, the way you’re phrasing your questions sounds suspiciously like you’re leading the witness.” As the tension mounted, Chloe twisted her hands together and whispered, “No… she never said that.” I shot to my feet. “What are you saying, Chloe?! Think before you speak! You argued with me! You said turtles love to sunbathe and keeping it inside was animal cruelty! Have you forgotten all of that?” Chloe shook her head frantically. “No, really, you must have misremembered, Mia.” Her flat-out denial shattered my composure. I lunged forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. “Why are you lying? I told you a dozen times not to put it on the balcony! Why are you doing this to me?” Chloe stumbled back, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “I didn’t hear you… Mia, please don’t blame me…” Marcus stepped between us, shoving me back hard. I lost my balance and slammed my lower back against the sharp corner of the table. A searing pain shot up my spine. “What’s this? When false accusations don’t work, you resort to threats and violence?” he sneered. “Officers, you all saw that. My client has given her testimony, while this woman has not only slandered her but has now assaulted her in your presence. We reserve the right to press charges.” Across the room, Chloe was a crumpled, sobbing mess, looking so innocent and fragile. I looked like a hysterical madwoman. “Chloe! Have you no conscience?” My voice was a raw, broken rasp. “When you first moved here with nothing but a suitcase, who stayed up all night rewriting your resume? Who begged their boss to give you an interview? The night your landlord kicked you out, who sent you three months’ rent without a second thought? You ate at my place almost every night. Did I ever ask you for a single dime?” “Look me in the eye and tell me you’ll be able to sleep at night after this.” Marcus cut me off. “Officer, we are here to cooperate with your investigation, not to listen to this irrelevant character assassination.” He turned to me, his eyes filled with disgust. “Ma’am, I suggest you cease these insulting remarks immediately. Otherwise, we will pursue a defamation lawsuit.” My chest heaved, rage burning through me. The police had confirmed the turtle fell from a balcony. I had owned it for less than a day, but the transaction was complete. In the eyes of the law, I was its owner. I had failed in my duty of care, so I was responsible. But if I could prove Chloe put it on the balcony, the liability would shift to her. It was human nature to protect oneself, but I would not be the scapegoat for this. “Officer,” Marcus said smoothly, “the law operates on the principle of ‘he who asserts must prove.’ Since she claims to have given specific instructions, let her present the evidence.” His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Evidence? What evidence did I have? Who records a casual request to a roommate? Who installs security cameras in a shared apartment? It was such a small, insignificant moment, and now it was about to destroy my entire life. The officer suggested I talk to my family. I just shook my head with a bitter smile. “How could I tell them? We’re already struggling. If my parents found out about this…” The victim’s mother, who had been silent until now, suddenly broke down. “Oh, so you’re the only one who’s suffering? My son is in the ICU, fighting for his life! His grandmother had a heart attack from the stress! We’re borrowing money from everyone we know just to keep him alive! What did we do wrong? What did my son do wrong?” I was speechless. She was right. They were the real victims. But what about me? What had I done wrong? I had tried to do a favor for a friend, and now I was being treated like a criminal. As if on cue, my phone rang. It was my mother. The moment I heard her voice, the dam broke, and tears streamed down my face. “Honey, what’s wrong? Who hurt you?” Her voice was shrill with panic and love. I trembled, holding the phone, but the words wouldn’t come out. How could I tell this woman who had sacrificed her whole life for me that her daughter was facing a two-hundred-thousand-dollar debt because of a turtle? How could I explain that our already fragile family was about to be crushed? “Mom… I’m at the police station,” was all I could manage to say. I heard rustling on the other end, and my father’s anxious voice came through. “What happened? Don’t be scared, honey, Mom and Dad are on our way!” My mother started firing questions at me, her voice tight with fear. “Are you hurt? Have you eaten? Are the police giving you a hard time?” Only after I had reassured her multiple times that I was physically okay did her voice relax slightly. After I hung up, I collapsed onto a bench in the hallway. I had to find a way to prove my innocence. But the thought was instantly crushed by the brutal reality of my situation. No recording. No cameras. Not a single witness. My dad had to borrow my uncle’s old work van. The trip from their small town to the city usually took three hours; they made it in under two. They practically fell out of the van before it had even come to a complete stop. My mother, with her bad leg, nearly tripped on the station’s doorstep. My father caught her, his hands steady on her thin shoulders. It was the first time in their lives they had ever set foot in a police station, and it was for me. “Officer… we’re here for our daughter,” my father said, his voice thick with worry. The police explained the situation. My mother grabbed the officer’s sleeve. “Please, sir, my daughter would never lie! You have to help us. You’re the experts at finding the truth…” “She was a straight-A student,” my father added, his eyes red. “She volunteered in the mountains during college. She’s a good kid.” Just then, Chloe finished giving her statement and started to leave. My mother rushed over and knelt at her feet. “Chloe, honey, please just tell me the truth. I know you’re a good girl.” Chloe panicked. “I told you, I’m not lying! Why is everyone pressuring me? I’m a victim here too! I just sold my roommate a turtle, how was I supposed to know this would happen?” Marcus sneered from the side. “The law deals in evidence, not sob stories. If you two can’t produce any proof, I suggest you stop this pathetic performance.” “You!” my father choked, his body trembling with rage. This proud, hardworking man was now hunched over, looking lost and defeated. “I’m simply stating the facts,” Marcus continued. “The owner of an animal is liable for any harm it causes. The evidence is clear: the turtle fell from your daughter’s residence. As the owner, she is responsible. Instead of crying here, you should be figuring out how to pay the compensation.” From an outsider’s perspective, he was right. It was that simple. Just then, the phone of the boy’s father rang. He answered it, his hand shaking. A second later, his face went ashen, and the phone slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor. “My son… my son, he…” The woman’s scream was a sound of pure agony that echoed through the entire station. She collapsed to the floor, clawing at her chest as if to tear out her own shattered heart. The next thing I knew, the grieving parents were charging at me like wounded animals. I was frozen, watching their contorted faces get closer and closer. “Honey, look out!”

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The rumor was that Ethan Prescott, the undisputed prince of New York’s high society, had a thing for a girl in a photograph. I have the kind of figure that was made for a silk sheath dress. After my family’s empire crumbled, I was shipped off to Manhattan as collateral for a debt. This prince, however, wanted nothing to do with me. He wouldn’t even grant me a meeting, sending a text message designed to make me crawl back to where I came from: 【I’m in love with someone else. Don’t waste your time.】 At that exact moment, his assistant handed me a file—a dossier on the woman who held Ethan Prescott’s heart. I stared at the photo of the smiling girl in the cheongsam, and a memory surfaced. It was me. A candid shot from a college trip to the city, taken years ago. 1 The file began with a psychological profile of Ethan Prescott. Cold, it said. Aloof. Never showed interest in women. Then, five years ago, that had changed. He’d fallen for someone. Love at first sight. Beneath the text was the picture. Me, standing in the middle of Washington Square Park, looking over my shoulder with a smile. The photo was taken from inside a passing car, grainy and immediate. It had the distinct feel of a hurried glance, a fleeting moment that had somehow been stolen and frozen in time. “The private investigator couldn’t dig up anything more than this,” said AJ, my father’s last loyal man. “Now that we know who she is, you want us to go have a word with her? A warning, maybe?” “A warning?” I asked, my voice flat. AJ rolled up his sleeves. “Yeah. Teach her a lesson.” “Oh? And you’re aware that assault is a felony, right?” The men my father left me were as brilliant as he was. My father, the third-generation heir who had managed to run the formidable Hayes Corporation straight into the ground, leaving a mountain of debt in his wake. AJ’s face fell. “But Ms. Hayes, this guy is throwing a fit about the engagement. He’s been fighting with his family for days. Said he’d rather die than marry you. He even defied his grandfather and moved out of the family estate.” I gave a slight nod. “I see.” “Ava,” AJ pleaded, his tone softening. “The Hayes family may be bankrupt, but we were once one of Boston’s most powerful families. You don’t have to humiliate yourself like this. Let’s just go back home and figure out the debt another way.” What home? I wanted to ask. There was nothing left to go back to. My finger traced the outline of my own younger, brighter smile in the photograph. “Not yet,” I said, closing the file. “Do we know Ethan Prescott’s schedule for today?” “He has a reservation at The Summit Lounge this afternoon.” “Get me a table there. Not a private room. I want to be in the main hall.” AJ blinked. “You’re going to see him? But he can’t stand the idea of you.” “I’m not going to see him,” I corrected, rising from my chair to gaze out at the river of yellow cabs flowing below the hotel window. “I’m simply going for a drink. To enjoy the view.” I paused, a small smile playing on my lips. “And to let the view come find me.” AJ looked completely lost, scratching his head before heading off to make the call. He’d been a street fighter before my father saved him from being beaten to death by a rival gang. His loyalty was absolute, even if his intellect wasn’t. He was the only one who stayed after everything fell apart. “The reservation is made, Ms. Hayes.” “Thank you.” I walked into the dressing room and selected a moon-white, halter-neck silk dress. I twisted my hair into a loose chignon, securing it with a single pearl pin. The dress was understated, its clean lines exposing the pale curve of my shoulders. Elegant, but with a quiet magnetism. They say you should never meet someone too dazzling when you’re young. If it doesn’t work out, they become the yardstick by which you measure everyone else, and no one ever measures up. But what if you’re the ghost he’s been measuring every other woman against? When I arrived, The Summit Lounge was an oasis of hushed tones and old money. The air smelled of expensive perfume and aged whiskey. The furniture was all dark mahogany, and even the tables in the main hall were partially enclosed by ornate privacy screens. It was easy to see why it was a favorite haunt for Manhattan’s elite. My table was strategically placed along the path to Ethan’s private room. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with a text from AJ. 【His car just pulled up.】 I silenced my phone and took a sip of my martini. Showtime. Through a gap in the screen, I watched the doorman respectfully pull open the heavy glass door. A tall, impeccably dressed figure stepped inside. He wore a dark grey suit that seemed molded to his frame, and he moved with the unhurried confidence of a man accustomed to being in charge. His face was lethally handsome, sharp angles and intense eyes that immediately drew the attention of everyone in the room. “That’s him,” a woman whispered nearby. “Ethan Prescott. The only son.” “Did you hear? The Hayes family from Boston went bust. They’re basically selling their daughter to him to cover their debts.” “Can you imagine? What kind of woman from a bankrupt family does she think she is? As if Ethan Prescott would ever look at her.” “Exactly.” “Look how tense he is. Bet he’s furious about the whole arrangement.” Ethan’s gaze was fixed straight ahead as he walked toward his room. Just as he was about to pass my table, I picked up my glass, tilting my head down as if completely absorbed in the drink. In my mind, I counted his steps. One. Two. Three. As he passed, his peripheral vision caught my profile. It was just a glimpse, but it was enough. Ethan Prescott, the unshakable prince of New York, faltered. His stride broke. He stopped, turning his head to get a better look, but in that same instant, I leaned back in my chair. The privacy screen perfectly obscured my face. 2 From where Ethan stood, all he could see was the table, the stem of a martini glass, and a pair of long legs, clad in silk, crossed delicately beneath the hem of a white dress. He remained frozen outside the screen, his well-manicured hand trembling slightly. It was probably the first time in his life he’d ever had to approach a woman. When his voice finally emerged, it was a low, pleasant baritone, but laced with an uncharacteristic nervousness that clashed with his cool, distant persona. “Excuse me.” “Could I… see you for a moment?” When I didn’t respond, he quickly added, “I don’t mean to be forward. It’s just… you look like a friend of mine. I wanted to be sure.” “Sir, your pickup line is painfully cliché,” I said, slowly swirling the olive in my glass. “So cliché it’s uncomfortable.” I finally lifted my eyes, though he couldn’t see them. “You’re a creep.” Ethan couldn’t have expected this. First, the rejection. Then, being called a creep. A man of his looks, wealth, and status was used to women falling at his feet. Rejection wasn’t just uncommon; it was nonexistent. The whispers in the lounge started up again. “Did you see that? Ethan Prescott, making a move on a woman? I thought he was completely untouchable.” “I have to know what the woman in that booth looks like. To get the Ethan Prescott to approach her like that…” The word “creep” seemed to strike him like a physical blow. He stood there, rigid with a mixture of shame and indignation. Because, of course, no one knew that he wasn’t hitting on me. He was genuinely trying to confirm if I was the girl he’d been searching for. But to the outside world—and to me, the woman he assumed was a stranger—it looked like a clumsy, low-class pickup attempt. After a long moment of silence, he flexed his fingers, his knuckles turning white. “I apologize. I was out of line.” Then, Ethan did something that stunned the entire room. The famously composed gentleman reached out and shoved the ornate screen aside. The air in the lounge seemed to thin. The screen slid halfway open. My face was just about to be revealed when his phone, tucked inside his suit jacket, began to vibrate insistently. The buzzing was relentless; it was either a family emergency or urgent company business. He took a deep breath, pulling out his phone to check the caller ID. His brow furrowed in annoyance as he turned his back to me to answer it. “What is it?” I leaned forward slightly, studying the man who was supposed to be my fiancé. His back was broad, his shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, the perfectly tailored suit accentuating a physique that was like a drawn bow, taut with latent power. He was even more handsome in person than in his photographs. At six-foot-two, with a body like that, even the back of him was enough to make you look twice. “Grandfather, I told you,” he said into the phone, his voice sharp with frustration. “I will not marry the Hayes girl.” There was a pause. The old man on the other end seemed to be making a concession. “I’m not forcing you, Ethan. It’s just… old man Hayes and I were friends, back in the day. His family is bankrupt, and they owe us a hundred million dollars. I thought if his only granddaughter could marry into our family, become a Prescott, the debt would be forgiven. She wouldn’t have to suffer.” The old man sighed. “But if you refuse, you refuse. It’s your life. But your grandmother chews me out every day since you moved out in a huff. Just come home, will you?” Ethan’s irritated tone softened, replaced by a hint of relief. “Fine.” “I’ll move back in a few days.” 3 On the other end of the line, his grandfather, clearly not ready to give up, made one last attempt. “Are you sure you don’t want to at least meet her? The Hayes girl? I’ve met her myself, you know. She’s brilliant, beautiful… a vision in a qipao. Graceful, elegant… honestly, she’s exactly your type. I’m telling you, just one look, and you’ll be hooked.” “No,” Ethan said, his refusal immediate and absolute. “I told you, I have someone.” “Alright, alright,” his grandfather conceded, sounding defeated. “I’ll call her family and tell them to send her back to Boston. But if you have someone, you bring her home for us to meet. You’re twenty-seven, Ethan. It’s time to settle down.” A flicker of something crossed Ethan’s face, and the corner of his mouth lifted into an almost unconscious smile. “I think I just found her.” “Found who?” “Nothing, Grandfather. I have to go.” He ended the call, a smile still playing on his lips as he turned around. But the booth behind the screen was empty. The chair was vacant, the martini glass gone. Ethan’s eyes scanned the room, searching. A moment later, a man eager to curry favor with the Prescott family approached him, holding out his phone. He had, with the dedication of a professional paparazzo, captured my departure from every conceivable angle: front, side, back, a perfect forty-five-degree shot. By the time I returned to the hotel, AJ was waiting for me. “Ms. Hayes, the Prescott family called.” He paused, his expression grim. “They said the engagement is off. They want you to go back to Boston.” It was exactly what I expected. “Son of a bitch!” AJ exploded, unable to contain his fury. “Who the hell do they think they are? They summon you here, they kick you out… Ms. Hayes, just say the word, and I’ll go find that prick, stuff him in a sack, and beat the ever-living crap out of him.” He took a breath, his anger shifting to curiosity. “But what happened at the lounge? You just saw him, and now his grandfather is calling off the whole thing? Did you… did you slap that asshole when he was rude to you?” There was a hopeful, almost excited glint in his eye, as if he truly hoped I had put the high-and-mighty prince in his place. “I didn’t meet with him,” I said calmly, sitting at the vanity and removing my earrings. “I told you. I just went for a drink and to enjoy the scenery.” I met his gaze in the mirror. “And AJ? From now on, you will not refer to Mr. Prescott as an asshole.” “But Ms. Hayes!” he protested, his voice rising with indignation. “What are we to them? A toy they can just pick up and throw away? Why should we take this?” I placed the earrings in their velvet box and replied softly, “Because the Hayes family owes the Prescott family one hundred million dollars.” “How… how… how much?” I ignored AJ’s stuttered shock, remaining silent. 4 AJ’s voice dropped to a defeated whisper. “I’ll book the flights back to Boston.” I stood up, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as I crossed to the sofa. “No flights. We’re not going back. Pack our things, check out of the hotel, and find a cheap, run-down apartment to rent somewhere in the city.” AJ stared at me, bewildered. “The engagement is off. Why are we staying?” I gazed out the window at the glittering, seductive sprawl of New York. This city was a hunting ground, and the game of cat and mouse was about to get more interesting. “I saw the scenery today,” I said quietly. “And now, the scenery is on its way to find me. How could I possibly leave?” AJ rubbed the back of his neck. “Ms. Hayes, sometimes I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “You don’t need to understand. Just do it. I want to be moved in by tonight.” Just then, I heard a faint noise from the hallway outside our suite. A small smile touched my lips. I hadn’t even been back from the lounge for an hour, and the man Ethan sent to investigate me was already at my door. I raised my voice, deliberately making it loud enough to be overheard. “AJ, we can’t go back to Boston! If we go back now, my father will kill me!” AJ froze, his face a mask of confusion. My father adored me; he would never lay a hand on me. He opened his mouth to object, but I pressed a single finger to my lips. Shhh. “I’m out of money,” I continued, my voice laced with panic. “We can’t afford this five-star hotel anymore. Please, just find a small place for us. We have to move out right away.” I turned to him, my eyes wide with manufactured despair. “AJ, I’m so sorry you have to live in some awful place because of me.” AJ, the tough guy with a straight-shooting heart, had no idea what I was doing. He thought I was truly broke. “Ms. Hayes, I was nothing before you. An orphan, a street rat. Your father saved my life. I know all this. Before, I wasn’t even worthy of walking behind you. Now that everyone else is gone, I’m happy that I get to be the one to protect you.” His voice was earnest. “I don’t care if the place is a dump. I’m a person with no roots. Wherever you are, that’s my home.” He pulled a bank card from his wallet and held it out. “Ms. Hayes, this is all my savings. You take it. I’ll find work tomorrow. I swear I won’t let you suffer.” I gently pushed the card back. “I can’t take your money, AJ. You earned it.” I beckoned him closer. As he leaned down, I whispered, “I need to live in a broken-down apartment. It’s part of the plan. Don’t ask why, just do as I say.” I met his loyal, confused eyes. “And AJ? We will go back to Boston. Sooner than you think. I’m going to rebuild the Hayes Corporation, and I’m taking you with me.” New York was a massive market. To rebuild my family’s legacy, I needed capital, connections, and power. And to get all of that, I needed one person to be my springboard. AJ was ruthlessly efficient. Just as I’d asked, he found a top-floor walk-up in a grimy corner of the Lower East Side. The stench of stale beer and fried food from the dive bar downstairs hung in the air, punctuated by the slurred curses of drunks in the alley. The tiny apartment was permeated with the damp, musty smell of old New York. “Ms. Hayes, wait on the fire escape. I’ll clean this place up before you come in.” “Don’t bother,” I said, leaning against the doorframe he’d wiped down. “Leave the luggage outside. And go hire a few guys to act like loan sharks. I want them to cause a scene.” A short while later, three beefy men AJ had hired were putting on a convincing performance. “You think you can just ignore us? Pay up, or else!” one of them bellowed. AJ glanced nervously down the stairwell and then rushed over to me. “Ms. Hayes, Prescott’s car is parked downstairs.” “Why is he here?” he whispered frantically. Because, of course, he is. I had left the lounge deliberately. I knew someone had taken my picture. Once Ethan saw that the woman in the photo was the same one he’d been searching for, he would use all his power to find me. I’d noticed the tail as soon as I got back to the hotel. That’s why I staged the whole performance for AJ about being broke. Before, he despised the idea of me, refusing to even look at my file. But now? Now he knew that the fiancée he’d so callously rejected was the very woman who haunted his thoughts. And because of his rejection, she had fallen into poverty and despair. What would that do to a man already consumed by a five-year-old infatuation? The guilt would be the final ingredient. Love is most intoxicating in the moments just before it blooms. Obsession sinks its roots deepest in the soil of regret. I needed him to feel guilty. I needed him to blame himself. 5 From the five-star hotel to this slum, cornered by thugs—it was a perfectly tailored trap, a damsel-in-distress narrative designed for an audience of one. I explained to AJ that the woman in the file was me from five years ago. Understanding finally dawned on his face. “Ms. Hayes,” he said, a look of dawning horror on his face. “In my world, we have a name for what you’re doing. It’s called a pig-butchering scam.” “You pay us today!” one of the hired thugs roared, getting back into character. “Back in Boston, you might have had powerful friends, but this is New York! Who’s gonna save you here?” He took a menacing step forward. “No money, no life!” The sound of expensive leather shoes ascending the metal staircase echoed in the cramped hall. I gave the lead thug a subtle nod. He raised his hand, preparing to deliver a fake slap. I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning terror. The rush of air from his hand passed by my ear, but the impact never came. A strong, long-fingered hand shot out and clamped around the thug’s wrist like a vise. Then, a low, cold voice cut through the air. “In New York, I’m her protection.” I slowly opened my eyes. Ethan Prescott stood before me. He’d changed into a high-quality black dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. He looked less like a ruthless CEO and more like a dark, brooding aristocrat. The neon lights from the street below cast a glow on his face, highlighting a small, alluring mole just above his collarbone. His handsome face was slick with a thin sheen of sweat. He must have run up the stairs. He released the thug’s wrist and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, fastidiously wiping his fingers. “How much does she owe you?” he asked, his voice dripping with ice. “A million,” the thug blurted out. Ethan didn’t even blink, as if he’d said a hundred dollars. He took out a checkbook, scribbled the number, and tossed the check at the man’s face like it was garbage. “Take it. And get lost.” “Wait,” I said. I had AJ retrieve the check and hand it back to Ethan. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know you. Why would you pay my debt?” AJ, now fully committed to his role, chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ms. Hayes, that’s Ethan Prescott. You know, the one from the Prescott family who was kicking and screaming about breaking off your engagement. The same family that summoned us from Boston with one word and is now sending us away with another.” My expression was serene as I looked at Ethan, whose face was burning with shame. “So you’re Ethan Prescott?” I met his cool, clear eyes, and saw a storm of emotions swirling within them: joy, embarrassment, guilt, self-reproach. But the strongest emotion of all was the raw, blazing thrill of having finally found the woman he was looking for.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384944”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother, in a fit of rage at our parents, opened the gas valve on the grill. Everyone else got out. I was asleep. The fire took most of my skin, and one of my legs. Mom and Dad walked through those first years in a daze of tears, until the day my brother, Ethan, brought home a girl and a piece of paper. A DNA test. It turned out I was the wrong baby, switched at birth. A stranger in their house. And just like that, their guilt was cut in half. I clung to life until I was eighteen. While they all went to the real daughter’s birthday party, I was in my bed, twisting. It had been a long time since Mom and Dad left on their business trip. Too long since anyone had turned me over. The old bedsores on my back had become infected, breeding something that crawled and itched with a fire of its own. I tried to roll over, a desperate, clumsy push that sent me tumbling onto the floor. As I lay there, a muffled shout drifted from the terrace next door, carried on the wind. “Ethan, aren’t you going to tell them? That you faked the DNA test?” It was like a switch had been flipped. “Shut up! Just shut up! I brought Ava home to fix things, to give them a way out. You want me to tell them now that it was all a lie? That I did it out of guilt? What place would I have in this family then!” His voice dropped, thick with a desperate self-righteousness. “I didn’t want everyone to spend their lives feeling guilty over Chloe. It was a kind lie. It was fair to everyone!” I lay frozen on the floor. Everyone? What about me? 1 I lay on the floor like a stray dog for a day and a night, woken only by the sound of shouting from downstairs. “Your sister is in that kind of state, and you want her to donate bone marrow to Ava? I won’t allow it!” It was Mom. She was back from her trip. When she comes in, I’ll tell her. I have to tell her. I’m not the wrong baby. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. “Chloe’s a write-off anyway, Mom! Why can’t she do something useful for Ava? Isn’t that the least she can do, after we’ve raised her all these years out of the goodness of our hearts?” Ethan argued his point as if I were a piece of burnt trash, something to be picked over for any last scrap of value. “Ethan Hayes, I didn’t raise you to be this cruel. Have you forgotten who the real culprit is for what happened to your sister?” I could hear the tears in my mother Catherine’s voice, the sheer pain of it all. Her biological daughter was sick, and it was tearing her apart, but her conscience wouldn’t let her hurt me further. “Fine! So I lit the goddamn gas. But none of you went in to save her either! Are we supposed to be trapped in that guilt forever? Donating marrow isn’t a big deal. If you won’t care about Ava, I will!” The slam of the front door echoed through the house, followed by a few muffled sobs. My bedroom door opened. Mom gasped. “Chloe! Honey, you fell! Why didn’t you call out?” Under the gauze, the sores itched and burned. I looked at my mother’s face and cried without making a sound. “Mom,” I started, my voice a broken rasp. “The truth is, I’m…” Before I could finish, her phone rang. The hospital. “Chloe, honey, they found out at her birthday party… your sister has leukemia. I have to go to the hospital now. You be good, okay?” She stroked my hair, her touch frantic. “I’ll take care of this and then I’ll be right back to see you.” She rushed out, a blur of motion and worry. I couldn’t bring myself to stop her. They were all living in a prison of guilt because of me. Now my sister was sick. I couldn’t be selfish. But all I wanted was to be their daughter. The tears carved paths through the scarred, uneven terrain of my face, trickling into my mouth. They tasted bitter. I’ll wait one more day, I told myself. Just one more day. When Mom has a clear head, I’ll tell her everything. I waited with a fragile, fluttering hope. But it wasn’t Mom who came. It was Ethan. “Chloe? You awake?” I was startled. It had been years since he’d used my name with such softness. He was carrying a bag full of gifts, and inside, I could see the plush pink of a stuffed rabbit, my favorite as a child. I hadn’t received a gift from him since the day he brought Ava home. Remembering what I’d overheard, I instinctively recoiled. Ethan’s face darkened at my movement. “Still holding a grudge, Chloe? You always do that. You look at me with those eyes. Every time I try to fix things between us, you ruin it.” I didn’t dare defy him. I just lowered my head, my silence a shield. “Where’s Mom?” “She had to go away on business. Be back in a week. She told me to take good care of you.” He leaned in, his voice conspiratorial and kind. “Don’t you want to get out? You’ve been stuck in this room for months. It must be suffocating. We haven’t done anything together, just the two of us, in forever.” He paused, letting the silence hang. “Please, Chloe. Let me make it up to you. I know I was wrong. Just give me one chance to apologize.” He gently placed the pink rabbit in my arms. The sincerity in his eyes was so overwhelming it felt real. I was born premature. Mom always said it was Ethan who saved me, sitting by my incubator every day after school. When I was a picky eater in kindergarten, he was the only one who could patiently spoon-feed me, the only one who would let me ride on his shoulders when we went out to play. After the fire, all of that became Ava’s. I had seen him through the gap in my curtains, gently stroking Ava’s hair, pushing her on the swing in the backyard, driving her across the city just to chase a sunset. I watched it all like a mouse in the walls, peeking at a life that should have been mine. Seeing me hesitate, Ethan wrapped his arms around me. For the first time in a decade, I felt a hug. It was hesitant, fragile, but it was there. “Chloe,” he whispered, his voice thick. “You’re my only sister. I’m begging you.” As he held me, his hand brushed against my back, and he felt the dampness of the sores through my clothes. His face twisted in rage. He stormed out of the room and unleashed a torrent of abuse on the nurse I had. “Is this how you take care of my sister? Get on your knees and apologize to her! And don’t get up until she forgives you. Then get the hell out of my house!” I watched the sharp line of his jaw as he defended me, a strange, electric current running through me. In that moment, forgetting everything else, I nodded. Because of the extensive burns, I couldn’t be in direct sunlight. Ethan wrapped me carefully in a thick blanket and carried me to the car, his movements gentle. Over the years, my brother had cost me so many tears, so much of my heart. And yet, I didn’t hate him. As he drove, a giddy, reckless feeling bubbled up inside me. For the first time since the fire, someone was taking me out of the tiny room that had been my world for a decade. And then, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot. 2 “Ethan, you said we were going out to play.” My voice was a ragged croak. The fire had damaged my vocal cords, and every word felt like swallowing needles. A flash of impatience crossed his face. “We are. But your sister is sick. We’re just stopping to get you tested for a match first.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes cold. “Chloe, you can’t be so selfish. I know the fire was hard on you, but Ava is the real daughter of this family. If you do this, the Hayes family will be even more grateful to you. Do you understand?” My world narrowed to a single point. How could I not be selfish? I was their real daughter. The fire wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t… “Mom said… she said I don’t have to.” It was the first lie I had told in a long time. It was the first time I had ever fought back. Ethan exploded. “Mom is just guilty! She’s not thinking straight, and neither are you! It’s not a big deal! If you’re still pissed at me, take it out on me, not Ava!” They held me down while they drew the blood. The results came back quickly. To Ethan’s profound disappointment, I was not a match. How could I be? The chances of a match between two people with no blood relation were minuscule. “Ethan,” I ventured, my voice trembling. “No one in the family is a match for her. Are you sure… are you sure she’s really our sister?” Crack. The slap sent me reeling, nearly knocking me out of my wheelchair. Ethan loomed over me, his eyes red, a cornered animal. “You sick bitch. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You love the idea that Ava is a fake, so you can go back to being the center of our guilt.” He leaned closer, his voice a venomous hiss. “Let me tell you something. Dream on. Ava is the real Hayes daughter. If it weren’t for that mistake at the hospital, you never would have had this life.” His words lit a fuse in me. Tears blurred my vision, but I screamed back at him, the sound tearing from my throat. “I wish I wasn’t your sister! If it weren’t for that mistake, the person in this wheelchair wouldn’t be me!” “I’d be normal! I’d have parents who loved me, I’d be able to run and jump and live in the sun!” Another slap cut my words short, silencing the rage. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. But the hatred in my eyes didn’t waver. Ethan’s hands were shaking. A flicker of regret, of something broken, crossed his face. His voice was suddenly quiet. “I… I can’t talk to you. You’re an ungrateful…” He couldn’t finish. “Just wait here. The driver will come get you.” He turned and fled, as if escaping a monster. Every eye in the hospital lobby was on me. A child passing by saw my face and burst into tears. “Mommy, that person looks like a ghost! She’s scary.” “Don’t look, honey. How disgusting. Let’s go, let’s go, before we catch something.” “Jesus, I thought I was seeing something out of a horror movie. I’m never coming to this hospital again.” I sat there, in the middle of the lobby, with no phone and no one who dared to come near me. I sat from day until night, until my tears ran dry and I nearly passed out from exhaustion. No one came. Finally, a night-shift nurse took pity on me and managed to contact my mother. When the driver arrived, his face was a mask of annoyance. “Why hasn’t this thing been kicked out of the Hayes house yet? Clinging on like a leech, making me come out in the middle of the night.” If it weren’t for the tiny, flickering hope of my parents coming back, I would have prayed for death. Everyone already thought I was a useless burden anyway. Sometime in the dead of night, I was woken by a hot, searing sensation on my face. The nerves there were mostly dead from the first fire, so by the time I jolted awake, the wax from a candle had already hardened into a crust on my cheek. Ava was standing over me, holding the candle, her face flushed with alcohol, her eyes wild. “You’re happy, aren’t you, sister? The tissue typing failed. Now you can take everything back.” She thrust the candle towards my face, and a scream tore from my lungs. “Fire! Get it away! Get it away from me!” Ava just laughed, a crazed, high-pitched sound. “Let me tell you what my brother said. The real daughter of the Hayes family will always be me!” She jabbed a finger at me. “You… you monster. You half-dead thing. You will never take my place.” She staggered out of the room, leaving the candle behind. She didn’t see the flame catch the edge of the curtains. The fire spread with terrifying speed. I was back in that night from years ago, a night where no one answered my screams. No one knows the pain of a severe burn like I do. It’s the feeling of a million ants chewing you alive, your skin blistering and rotting, weeping pus, stinking. And even after it heals, for a long, long time, the phantom pain remains, a constant, stinging companion.[1][2] I had imagined a thousand ways to die. Any of them were better than being burned alive. Through the thick, rolling smoke, I saw a figure running towards me. Why? Why was it him? Why was it my brother? 3 When I woke up again, it was to the sharp, sterile smell of a hospital. Ethan was there, looking haggard, his arm bandaged, pacing anxiously around the room. I couldn’t understand it. Why him? Why did he always do this to me? He made it impossible to love him, impossible to hate him, impossible even to escape him. When Ethan saw I was awake, the raw worry on his face was so real it felt like a dream. “Eth—” “When Mom and Dad get here, you tell them you knocked over the candle by accident.” Our voices overlapped. I heard the exact moment my own breathing stopped. It was the same nightmare, all over again. I looked down at my body, at the ruined landscape of my skin—the scarred flesh, the dead tissue, the craters and valleys—now freshly seared red and raw by a new fire. I felt nothing. The pain receptors had been destroyed the first time around. I tried to push myself up, to make him look at me, at the heap of ruined flesh that was his sister. “Don’t you look at me like that!” he snapped. “To save you, I left Ava in there! She was hit by a falling beam! Aren’t you satisfied?” His voice cracked, rising with hysteria. “Why is it always you? Why are you the one who always traps people in guilt? I won’t let Ava live with the guilt of burning you, not like I have!” He was rambling, his words tumbling over each other. “It would be better to just die. It would be a mercy.” “Besides,” he added, his voice dropping, “she’s already paid the price. Mom and Dad are giving her blood right now. You know what to say when they get here.” He was about to say more when the doctor rushed in. “Mr. Hayes, your sister is in critical need of blood. The hospital’s reserves are low. We need you to come and donate now.” Ethan flew out of the room with the doctor. Outside the operating room, my mother, Catherine, was waiting anxiously with my father, Robert. “Ethan, what happened? How could your sister be so badly injured?” Catherine was leaning against Robert, on the verge of collapse. “Why does it have to be my children? Why is it always my children in a fire?” Ethan’s expression was a twisted mask of emotions. He swallowed hard. “Chloe… she knocked over a candle in her sleep. The whole room went up. I got to Chloe first, but a burning beam fell and hit Ava.” Catherine and Robert were speechless. A wave of regret washed over them. “If we had just sent Chloe away back then,” Robert murmured, “maybe Ava wouldn’t be going through this.” He shook his head, his voice gaining a bitter edge. “I told you then she wasn’t fit to be kept in the house. You wouldn’t listen. Who knows if she did this on purpose, to get back at Ava.” “Ethan told me before that Chloe and Ava weren’t getting along. He told me to send her away. It’s my fault. I was too soft.” Ethan started to speak, to defend me, but the words caught in his throat. He let his father’s assumptions, fueled by his own previous complaints, fester in the silence. “Family members,” a nurse called out, “the father’s blood type doesn’t match. We need both of you to get tested as well.” Ethan and Catherine hurried after the nurse. Robert walked into my room. When I looked up and saw my father, a dam of grief broke inside me. Before I could even speak, tears soaked through the gauze on my face. “Dad…” My choked whisper was cut off by his cold voice. “You have no right to call me Dad. I know Ethan wronged you in the past, but he has lived with that guilt every single day. He would sneak into your room at night just to watch you, to make sure you were still breathing.” He took a step closer, his face a storm of fury. “You’ve been burned. You know how much it hurts. Why would you inflict that same pain on my daughter? If anything happens to Ava, I will never forgive you.” “As soon as this is over, you will leave this family. We have no room for a jinx.” His figure blurred as the oxygen in the ventilator suddenly felt thin, suffocating. Even though most of my ability to feel pain was gone, a different kind of agony seized me, making my whole body tremble. Robert returned to the surgical waiting area. His son was still being tested; his wife was staring blankly at a piece of paper. “Catherine, what is it? Is something wrong with Ava?” She turned her head slowly, mechanically. The tears had already started to fall. By the time she faced him, her face was streaked with them. “Why is she Type A?” she whispered, the words trembling. “Why is she Type A?”

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I awakened to my family’s Serpentine Bloodline. Upon reaching adulthood, we are granted a choice: to choose our gender once more. In my last life, to be with the man I loved, I chose to remain a woman. I became a devoted wife and mother. I helped him grow from a small business owner into one of the wealthiest men in the city. I raised our son and daughter and saw them into Ivy League schools. But on my fiftieth birthday, I ate a slice of cake my husband had baked for me with his own hands. And I began to spit out mouthfuls of black blood. My children stood by and watched. They made no move to call for an ambulance. “Just let go, Mom,” my son said calmly. “Auntie Sylvia will take good care of us and Dad.” “Yeah,” my daughter added, her voice flat. “Honestly, being your kid is a total embarrassment.” Everything they had, they owed to me. Yet they cast me into the abyss without a second thought. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the family sanctum. The clan elder held out the ceremonial parchment, the one that would seal my choice. “Elara,” he said gently. “It’s time to decide.” 1 I took the parchment from the elder’s hands and, stroke by stroke, wrote down my new name. When the final stroke was complete, the decision would be irreversible. The elder looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise. “Are you truly certain? You wish to live the rest of your life as a man?” “And what of your young man, Joey? Can he accept you after… the change?” As he spoke, Joey himself was standing just outside the sanctum’s doors, watching me with an eager, hopeful expression. As an outsider, he could neither enter nor hear our words. I reverently lit the parchment, letting the smoke carry my choice to our ancestors. I offered the elder a small smile. “Grandfather, my mind is made up. But until the transformation is complete, I ask that you keep this a secret for me.” “As you wish. It is your life to command,” he sighed. “The ritual will be complete in one week. Your new identification will be delivered then.” One week. I mouthed the words. In one week, I would have a new life, a future so bright it felt like a dream. But first, I had to deal with Joey. As I stepped out of the sanctum, he rushed to my side, grabbing my hand. “Elara, I know what you’ve sacrificed for me. I swear, I will never let you regret it.” He looked deep into my eyes. “Will you forge a pact with me?” I froze. He never mentioned a pact in our last life. Could he have been reborn, too? I decided to test him. “A pact isn’t like a marriage, Joey. Once it’s forged, we can never be parted. Can you truly promise to love me for a lifetime, and never fall for another?” “Of course,” he vowed, his gaze intense. But I could see it, hiding behind the performance—the same cold, ruthless ambition I saw in his eyes as he watched me die. “Elara, the very thought of losing you is agony,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. “Please, say you’ll do it. Say yes.” A phantom pain twisted in my gut, as if the poison from my last life was still coursing through me, tearing me apart from the inside. I suppressed the bitterness and smiled brightly at him. “Alright, Joey. I accept.” “I don’t want to be apart from you either. Let’s forge the pact right now.” I snipped a lock of his hair and bound it together with one of my own. We took it back to the elder, who burned the offering in the sanctum’s sacred brazier. “I, Elara, and Joey, bind our hair and our hearts as one, our love true and eternal.” The elder opened his mouth as if to protest, “But Elara, aren’t you…?” He caught himself, remembering my request. He gave us both a long, complicated look before letting out a heavy sigh. As I watched our hair turn to ash in the flames, a genuine smile finally touched my lips. That night, Joey sat down with my parents to discuss the wedding. The gentle, adoring man from the sanctum was gone. He sat at the head of the table and, without even looking up, addressed my mother. “So, when are you transferring the deeds for the houses and cars to my name?” My mother’s face darkened. “What did you just say?” “Let’s be blunt,” Joey said, finally meeting her gaze. “I don’t have any money. You’ll have to cover all the wedding expenses. Or we can skip the wedding, I don’t really care.” “But once we’re married, Elara is my wife. Her property will be my property. What’s the difference if you transfer it now or later?” He casually placed a drumstick on my plate, a smug look on his face. “Isn’t that right, Elara?” My parents turned to me, their expressions grim. They knew the final decision was mine. “You hear that, Elara?” my mother said, her voice tight. “You’re not even married, and he’s already trying to seize our family’s assets. What kind of life will you have with him? Even if you remain a woman, we can find you a good man. Just say the word, and we’ll throw him out this instant.” My father silently picked up a heavy wooden cane. Joey yelped. “You can’t! We’ve already forged the pact! If she doesn’t marry me, she will die!” My parents looked as if they’d been struck by lightning. Seeing my silence, they began to scold me, calling me a fool, their anger so great I feared my mother would have a heart attack. I placed a calming hand on her shoulder. They had yet to witness the true depths of Joey’s depravity. Fate had given me this second chance to show me what a true abyss looked like. I turned to Joey. “All of our family’s assets, except for the house my parents currently live in, are in my name. That’s sixteen villas, two historic townhouses, seventy commercial properties, thirty-four cars, and about six hundred million in savings.” “If you want it, I’ll transfer it all to you. We’ll just leave this one house for my parents. Do you agree?” A fire ignited in Joey’s eyes. In his last life, he had become a tycoon with only a fraction of my support. He knew I was wealthy, but he never dreamed I was this wealthy. “Deal,” he said instantly. “But your parents have to write their wills now. When they die, this house must be in my name only.” His greed didn’t surprise me. I agreed to his terms. As the final transfer of funds went through, a single, iridescent serpent’s scale materialized on his left forearm. “What is this?” he asked, startled. “A mark of our pact,” I explained calmly. “When all three scales have appeared, the pact will be complete and unbreakable.” “Why didn’t I have this before?” he muttered to himself, then quickly fell silent. He looked at me, stripped of my entire fortune, yet still watching him with a serene, untroubled gaze. He looked away, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Don’t be upset,” he said, trying to sound magnanimous. “My money is your money, right? I’ll take care of you. It’s better for the man to hold the assets. It keeps the family stable.” In my last life, I was the one who initiated the pact. When he swore to be good to me then, his performance was far more convincing. And what did that get me? A cup of poison and an early grave. With my money, Joey first bought himself his dream motorcycle. Then he went on a shopping spree, buying mountains of jewelry, designer clothes, and luxury skincare—all things for a woman. The transaction notifications flooded my phone. His gift to me? A nine-ninety-nine, gold-plated bracelet from a cheap online store. I accepted it with a smile, without a single word of complaint. Four days before the ritual was to be completed, Joey dragged me from my bed in the middle of the night. Clad only in my pajamas, I was pulled into his car and driven to the hospital. “My sister was in a car accident,” he said, his voice tense. “You have the same blood type. You have to donate.” When we entered the emergency room, I knew. His “sister” was Sylvia. The “Auntie Sylvia” my son had spoken of. The woman Joey and my children had truly loved. He grabbed a nurse who was heading into surgery. “Take her blood,” he commanded. “You have to save Sylvia, no matter what it takes.” The nurse drew 400cc of my blood. Joey’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you need 1000cc? Why are you stopping?” The nurse looked at him, flustered. “Sir, drawing more than 400cc at once is dangerous. If we take 1000cc, this woman could go into shock. Besides, the patient’s injuries aren’t life-threatening, and we have a blood supply on the way.” “I don’t care. Her blood is better. Use hers.” He gestured at me. “She’s my wife. You think I don’t know what her body can handle? A measly 1000cc of blood is nothing to her.” Onlookers began to murmur. “What a monster. Is he using his wife as a walking blood bag?” “Seriously, all blood is the same. I think he’s just trying to kill her.” “Honey, don’t do it,” a woman whispered to me. “It’s not worth hurting yourself for someone else.” I just smiled and extended my arm to the nurse. “It’s fine. Draw the blood. This is what Joey wants from me. I have to give it to him.” The nurse stared at me as if I were insane. The people who had just defended me now muttered that I was an idiot, that you can’t save someone who’s determined to die. I didn’t flinch. I watched as the life drained out of me, tube by tube. How did Joey know my blood was “better”? In our last life, he had been in the ICU with a severe case of pneumonia. The doctors had given up on him. It was my blood, brewed into a special medicinal draught, that brought him back from the brink. So this time, even though the hospital had plenty of blood, even though Sylvia’s life wasn’t in danger, he was still determined to drain me dry for his one true love. I faded into unconsciousness. When I awoke, Joey was by my bedside. I lifted the sleeve of his shirt. There, on his left arm, was a second serpent scale. He saw the scale, a complex emotion in his eyes. He spoke softly. “Elara… I never realized how much you loved me. I was wrong. I’m so sorry.” “The doctor said you lost too much blood. You had a miscarriage. They couldn’t save your uterus. You won’t be able to have children again.” I smiled faintly. “Is that so? Well, what’s gone is gone. I don’t mind.” “You’re not angry?!” Joey stared at me, his expression shifting from remorse to rage. “That was our child! Why aren’t you sad that it’s gone? Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?!” As if it would have made a difference. Besides, why would I want Joey’s child? I had raised two of them already. I gave them the best life, the best education money could buy. My son was brilliant but rebellious. My daughter was obedient but dull. Did he think they got into the Ivy League on their own merit? It was all due to my family’s influence and my own tireless efforts. And did those two vipers ever show me an ounce of gratitude? They watched me writhe on the floor, my fingers digging bloody grooves into the hardwood from the pain. And they calmly discussed where they should take Sylvia on vacation. At that thought, I reached out and took Joey’s hand. “Joey, what’s done is done. What can we do now? The important thing is that your sister is safe. If you want children in the future, we can just adopt hers.” “You’d… you’d do that?” Joey was stunned by my apparent generosity. He couldn’t seem to comprehend how I could be so utterly devoted. But my proposal offered him nothing but benefits. He pulled me into an embrace. “Elara, I’m the luckiest man in the world to have a wife like you. We’ll raise Sylvia’s children as our own. You’ll teach them, and they’ll grow up to be amazing. They’ll be good to you. If they ever disobey you, I’ll set them straight.” He said all the right things. But I knew, in the future he was imagining, I was the one who would be “set straight.” Joey brought Sylvia home for me to care for. As I was washing fruit for her, she tossed her underwear into the bowl. “My doctor said I can’t get my hands wet while I’m recovering, darling,” she said with a smirk. “Be a dear and take care of this for me.” My hand paused for a fraction of a second. Then I took the lacy underwear and began to wash it under the tap. Sylvia raised an eyebrow, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “Joey was right. You’re completely bound to him. Pathetically so. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for him?” “Not quite,” I said without looking up, concentrating on my task. “The ritual will be complete in two days.” “This is the last favor I’ll ever do for Joey.” “What ‘last favor’?” Joey asked, walking into the kitchen. He saw what I was washing and shot Sylvia a mildly disapproving look. In a few days, he wouldn’t even have that flicker of guilt. He’d just see me as the help. Sylvia smiled at me. “Well then, I’d better make the most of it.” The night before the ritual was to be completed, Joey and Sylvia tied my hands and feet and shoved me into a large birdcage. “Joey, what are you doing?” I cried out. “Where are you taking me?” The car ride was long and bumpy. Finally, they stopped, and the cloth covering the cage was ripped away. Blinding light flooded in. I found myself staring into a pair of lecherous, greedy eyes. The man was at least seventy, drool gathering at the corner of his mouth as he stared at my chest. “Fresh,” he rasped. “So fresh. You’re sure I can do whatever I want with her tonight?” A fire ignited in the pit of my stomach. I locked my eyes on Joey. “What is the meaning of this?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze. Sylvia draped herself over his shoulder. “We had a little accident on the motorcycle the other day. We hit Don Marco’s dog, and it died.” “Don Marco said if we couldn’t bring his dog back to life, he’d take one of Joey’s arms as payment. So, I suggested that you could spend the night with him, to apologize on our behalf. You love Joey so much, I’m sure you don’t mind, right?” I almost laughed. I kept my eyes fixed on Joey. “I want to hear it from you, Joey. Are you really giving me to another man? To pay for a dead dog?” “Elara, don’t be scared,” he said, finally looking at me. “It’s just one night. It’ll be over before you know it. Besides, I’m your husband. If I don’t mind you being ‘soiled,’ what do you have to worry about?” His depravity knew no bounds. My chest heaved with fury. I dug my nails into my palms, telling myself to endure. Just a little longer. The old man grew impatient. “What do you mean, ‘just a dog’? I could have taken your lives for killing my dog. It seems to me the lady isn’t willing. Get over here and tie your wife to my bed yourself before I change my mind. You don’t want to find out what happens when you get on my bad side.” The color drained from Joey’s face. He opened the cage and, without untying me, hoisted me over his shoulder and threw me onto the bed. I spit in his face. “You are pathetic, Joey. I gave you a fortune, and you can’t even handle something this small.” “Say whatever you want,” he muttered, grabbing my wrists and tying them to the bedposts. “Remember this, Elara. After tonight, I’m the only one who will ever want you. Don’t you even think about leaving me. You’ll behave, you’ll live with me and Sylvia, and I’ll be good to you.” I bit down on his hand, hard. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. He yelped, trying to pull his hand free, and then slapped me hard across the face. “Crazy bitch,” he hissed. “Just wait until tomorrow.” He gave the old man an obsequious smile and backed out of the room with Sylvia. She gave me one last look, a mixture of pity and triumph in her eyes. The old man lunged, tearing at my clothes. The stale, musty smell of him was suffocating. Just as his hand reached for me, the clock began to chime. Twelve o’clock. A searing pain shot through my body. My limbs contorted, pulling the ropes taut. The old man frowned. “What are you doing? What kind of trick is this?” He shouted towards the door. “Joey, get in here! What’s wrong with this broad?!” At the same moment, Joey looked down at his left arm. A third serpent scale had appeared. How? He had always believed the scales represented Elara’s love. The more scales, the deeper her love, the stronger their bond. But right now, she clearly hated him more than anything in the world. So why had the third scale appeared? A primal, overwhelming panic seized him. It was an animal instinct, a terror in the face of an apex predator. He threw open the door. “Don Marco, what’s wrong?!” As he stepped into the room, he heard a voice. It was young, male, and both strange and terrifyingly familiar. “Kneel.” With a sickening thud, Joey’s knees slammed into the floorboards, completely against his will.

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The new assistant, Ava’s latest hire, dumped a full cup of coffee onto my face in front of the entire executive board. “You’re a parasite who does nothing but hide in his office playing video games, and you have the nerve to question my proposal?” His voice echoed in the silent boardroom. “I’m telling you you’re fired. Get out!” Calmly, I rose to my feet. I wiped the sticky, lukewarm liquid from my skin and looked at Ava. She frowned, her gaze deliberately darting away from mine. She chose silence. A slow smile spread across my face. I pulled out my phone. “Dad, you listening?” I asked, the speakerphone on. “They’re telling me to get out.” 1 It was a Monday. I was deep in the final push of a strategic campaign on my laptop when a sharp knock broke my concentration. “Mr. Sterling? Carter Hayes needs all department heads in the main conference room in ten minutes.” It was Chloe from Admin, her voice rushed. I didn’t look up, my fingers a blur across the keyboard. “Not going. Busy.” In the six months I’d been embedded in this company, I hadn’t attended a single meeting. It wasn’t that I was exempt; I simply couldn’t be bothered. “But…” Chloe hesitated, her voice dropping. “Carter was very specific. He said no one gets to miss this one. He said it was an order from Ms. Monroe.” My fingers froze. My character, a meticulously crafted warrior, was instantly annihilated by the level boss. As the screen faded to a dismal gray, I swore under my breath and shut the laptop. By the time I arrived, the conference room was already full. As I entered, a ripple of strange looks and whispered conversations followed me. “What’s Liam Sterling doing here?” “I thought he didn’t do meetings.” “Who knows. Must be Carter’s doing. He specifically requested him.” “Carter’s been looking for a reason to pick a fight with him. This should be good.” I ignored the murmurs and chose a seat in the farthest corner, pulling out my phone to resume the game I’d been forced to abandon. A full thirty minutes passed before Ava Monroe and Carter Hayes finally made their grand entrance. Carter clutched a stack of files, a smug, triumphant smile plastered on his face. “Thank you all for making the time on such short notice,” Ava began, her eyes scanning the room. They rested on me for less than a second before moving on. “Carter has a major proposal he’d like to present to you all today.” Carter cleared his throat and launched into a long-winded speech about his “revolutionary” new marketing strategy. I split my attention, one thumb navigating my game while my ears picked up the broad strokes. The more I heard, the more absurd it sounded. The budget was astronomical, and the entire concept was fundamentally misaligned with our company’s market position. “…and so, I propose an immediate eighty-million-dollar investment to dominate the high-end market sector within the next three months!” Carter concluded, his voice ringing with passion. A sparse, hesitant applause fluttered through the room. I couldn’t help myself. Without looking up from my phone, I said, “For eighty million, you could just throw cash off the roof of the building. You’d get more buzz and better engagement.” The room went dead silent. Ava’s brow furrowed. “What did you say?” Carter’s voice was suddenly sharp. I finally lifted my head, my expression one of pure boredom. “I said your proposal is full of holes.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “First, your target demographic is completely wrong. Second, your channel allocation is a mess. And third, your entire method for calculating ROI is a fantasy.” I leaned back in my chair. “You might as well be setting eighty million dollars on fire. At least that would make a nice glow.” Carter’s face flushed a deep, blotchy red. He snatched his coffee cup from the table and stormed towards me. “You’re a parasite who does nothing but hide in his office playing video games, and you have the nerve to question my proposal?” he roared. And then— Splash. The hot liquid cascaded down my face. It soaked the collar of my white shirt, staining it a muddy brown. The entire room held its breath. “Liam Sterling, I’m announcing you’re fired. Get out!” 2 Carter stood over me, chest puffed out like a conquering hero. I rose slowly, pulling a linen handkerchief from my pocket and methodically dabbing the coffee from my face. Then I turned my gaze to Ava. She frowned, looked away, and said nothing. A genuine laugh escaped me then. A real one. I held up my phone, where the call was still active on speaker. “Dad, you listening?” “They’re telling me to get out.” The line was silent for two beats before a deep, resonant voice replied. “Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.” The only reason I was in this office, in this city, was because of a pact made by my grandfather decades ago. An engagement. Ava Monroe was my fiancée. I despised the idea of an arranged marriage, a dynastic merger, but my father had been relentless, wielding the weight of family duty and legacy like a club. So I’d agreed. To “foster a deeper connection,” my father had insisted I take a position at Monroe Industries. For six months, I’d played the part of a do-nothing manager, a ghost in the corporate machine. In reality, I had been quietly leveraging Sterling resources, making calls, greasing wheels, and single-handedly ensuring the company’s performance soared, paving the way for a successful IPO. Monroe Industries became a market darling, and Ava Monroe’s name appeared on the Forbes list of rising entrepreneurs. I’d done all that, but we barely spoke. During our handful of stilted, obligatory dates, it became clear she knew I was the man from the family arrangement, but she had no idea of the true scale of the Sterling family name. … I sat back down in my corner chair, picked up my phone, and unpaused my game. On the screen, my character respawned. My fingers flew across the glass, the tension in the room melting into the background. Carter’s face went from red to a sickly shade of purple. He clearly hadn’t expected me to so thoroughly ignore his display of authority. He slammed his hand on the table. “Liam! What do you think this is? Everyone is focused on a critical meeting, and you’re playing games?” A cold smile touched my lips. “I’ve already hit my targets for the entire fiscal year. What’s a little game?” “If you don’t get out right now, I’m calling security!” “Be my guest,” I replied without looking up. The other executives exchanged uneasy glances. Some pretended to study their documents; others shot furtive looks at Ava, waiting for her to act. Finally, she stood. Today she was wearing a sharp, tailored black dress, her hair pulled back in a severe knot. She looked at me, her expression a mixture of impatience and disdain. “Liam, your performance metrics are excellent,” she said. Her voice was level, but it carried an undeniable authority. “But this is a place of business, not your trust fund playground. Please leave the conference room. You’re disrupting the meeting.” My fingers paused. My character died again. I looked up and met her gaze, a playful smirk on my lips. “Are you sure you want me to leave, Ms. Monroe?” Ava’s frown deepened, her voice turning to ice. “I won’t repeat myself. If you have any professional decency, you know when to walk away.” “And if I don’t want to walk away?” “Then don’t blame me for what happens next.” Seeing Ava firmly on his side, Carter’s courage surged. He lunged at me and slapped the phone out of my hand. It hit the polished floor with a sickening crack, the screen exploding into a spiderweb of fractures. “Don’t push your luck, Sterling!” he snarled, grabbing the front of my shirt and hauling me upwards. “Ava gave you an order! What are you still doing here? Get out!” From his very first day as Ava’s assistant, Carter had made his dislike for me clear. I once overheard him through Ava’s office door, his voice dripping with condescension. “Ms. Monroe, this isn’t a charity. Paying a six-figure salary to a guy who just plays games all day is a slap in the face to everyone who actually works here.” Ava hadn’t replied, but through the glass, I saw her hands pause over a document. After that, Carter grew bolder. He’d make veiled comments in department meetings about my “impressive contributions.” “Some people,” he’d say with a theatrical sigh, “collect a hefty paycheck but can’t even be bothered to show up for a meeting. Must be nice to be on a permanent vacation.” The whispers around the office grew louder. I was a nepo-baby, a rich kid slumming it. I slept in my office. They started a betting pool on when I’d finally be fired. I knew about all of it. I just didn’t care. 3 But the more I ignored him, the more entitled he became. This was his moment, and he was reveling in it. I don’t tolerate bullies. I clamped my hand around his wrist and twisted. Hard. “Ah!” Carter cried out, his grip on my shirt releasing instantly. As he stumbled back, his arm slammed against the edge of the heavy oak conference table. There was a sharp crack as his watch face met the wood. He staggered, then looked down at his wrist. The color drained from his face. A deep, ugly scratch now marred the crystal of his expensive Patek Philippe, glaring under the recessed lighting. “You… you…” he stammered, his hand trembling as he held it up. His eyes were blazing. “Liam, do you have any idea how much this watch costs? This was a birthday gift from Ava! It’s worth eighty thousand dollars!” I slowly straightened the collar of my wrinkled shirt. “You lost your footing. Not my problem.” “Liam!” Ava’s voice was a whip crack. “That’s enough! You disrupted a meeting, and now you’ve deliberately destroyed personal property. On behalf of the company, I am officially terminating your employment. Now, gather your things and leave.” Carter, seeing his advantage, pressed on. “Ava, don’t just let him walk away! He has to pay for the watch!” The room was silent. Every eye was on me, a mix of pity and morbid curiosity. They were waiting for the show. “Fine. I’ll pay,” I said. “Eighty thousand, was it?” I bent down to retrieve my shattered phone. The screen was a disaster, but it still lit up. As I dialed a number, Carter sneered. “What eighty thousand? It’s eight hundred thousand!” I paused, looking at him. “Are you sure about that?” “Of course, I’m sure!” Carter puffed out his chest. “A gift from Ava is priceless! Eight hundred thousand is a bargain, and I’m being generous! Ask anyone here if I’m wrong!” He knew my official salary. He knew I couldn’t afford that. This was about humiliation. The other executives, sensing the shift in power, chimed in. “He’s right. A gift from Ms. Monroe can’t be measured in money,” the CFO said, adjusting his glasses. “You should just pay it, Liam.” “This isn’t a non-profit, Sterling. You break it, you buy it,” the head of marketing added with a smirk. “Though at your salary, you’ll probably be paying it off until you retire.” A wave of cruel laughter rippled through the room. They had despised the “slacker” in their midst for months, and now they were enjoying my downfall. Ava stood by, her brow furrowed, but she did nothing to stop them. Their taunts didn’t bother me. I looked straight at Carter. “Eight hundred thousand. That’s the final number? No more additions?” He blinked, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Still playing the big shot, Liam? We all know what your paycheck looks like. How are you going to pay? With your life?” I ignored him and put the phone to my ear. “I need eight hundred thousand in cash delivered to the Monroe Industries boardroom. As soon as possible.” Carter scoffed. “Right. Who are you trying to fool with that little performance?” I didn’t answer. I just waited. Less than ten minutes later, the conference room doors swung open. A man in a flawlessly tailored suit walked in, followed by three uniformed bank couriers carrying heavy briefcases. He walked directly to me and bowed respectfully. “Mr. Sterling. Here is the eight hundred thousand you requested.” I nodded. “Thank you for your promptness. You can set them down there.” The cases were opened one by one, revealing stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills that seemed to glow under the lights. The room fell into a stunned silence. You could have heard a pin drop. Carter looked like he’d been punched in the gut. He stared at the money, then at the man in the suit. Suddenly, the CFO’s face went white. “Mr.… Mr. Davies?!”

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I woke up in a hospital, my head full of memories that weren’t mine. I’m Zoe Caldwell, sole heiress to the Caldwell Corporation—and now the villain in a cliché novel. My scripted fate was fighting our housekeeper’s daughter over a man, ending in disgrace and ruin. I touched the gauze on my forehead, then saw the zeros in my bank account. Give up this fortune for a guy? Was I insane? From then on, the story derailed. Innocent Luna crying? I don’t do passive-aggressive—I read bank statements. Ethan in love? Love’s exhausting. Here’s five million—go learn a lesson. Guilt-tripping relatives? Meet my lawyers. Let’s talk “equal before the law.” They said I had money, not soul. I said, “Perfect. Love hurts. Money’s my armor.” This is a rich woman crushing every snake in her path—brutally and simply. Don’t reason with me. It costs too much. 1 I opened my eyes to a stark white ceiling. The air hung thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic. A figure in a white coat hovered over me, his mouth moving. “Miss Caldwell, you’re awake. Are you feeling any discomfort?” I ignored him, my mind replaying a trashy TV drama on a loop. The show was called The Billionaire’s Contract Bride. The heroine was Luna Hayes, the daughter of the housekeeper my mother had hired. True to her name, she was the picture of fragile innocence, the kind of girl who looked like a strong breeze could knock her over and whose eyes would well up at a harsh word. The hero was Ethan Vance, the man I’d been engaged to since we were kids. He was handsome, wealthy, and completely blind. And I, Zoe Caldwell, was the villainess. The one who relentlessly framed Luna to win Ethan’s affection, only to be driven to bankruptcy by him and die a miserable death under a city overpass. I digested all of this with a blank expression. The doctor was still rambling beside me. “Miss Caldwell, you fell down the stairs. You have a mild concussion and will need to stay for a few days of observation.” A middle-aged woman threw herself at my bedside, grabbing my hand as tears streamed down her face on command. “Zoe, you scared me to death! Why do you have to pick on Luna? She’s Mrs. Hayes’s daughter! How could you push her down the stairs? And look at you, you’re the one who got hurt the worst!” This was my mother, a quintessential high-society wife whose universe revolved around flower arranging, spa days, and—most importantly—”not embarrassing the family.” I pulled my hand free. “I didn’t push her.” My mother froze, then her brow furrowed. “It was all on camera! Are you still going to deny it? If Ethan hadn’t shielded Luna, she’d be the one lying in this bed!” Oh, right. That’s how the script went. In the original story, I’d seen Ethan and Luna having an intense moment in the stairwell. I went to confront them, Luna lost her footing, and Ethan didn’t hesitate, diving to become her human cushion. In the process, they knocked me over, and I was the one who tumbled down the flight of stairs, becoming a laughingstock. The doctor tried to mediate. “Mrs. Caldwell, the patient has just woken up. It’s best to avoid any emotional distress.” My mother toned it down slightly, but she was still muttering, “Ethan has already made it clear. He wants to call off the engagement with our family. Honestly, Zoe, why are you such a disappointment?” Her voice was a grating noise in my ears. My father, the chairman of the Caldwell Corporation, was standing a short distance away, his voice low as he spoke on the phone. But I could still catch keywords like “Vance,” “the project,” and “merger.” See? These were my parents. One cared only about appearances, the other only about profit. Whether their daughter was alive or dead, in pain or not, seemed to be a trivial detail. Fine by me. It made things simpler. No need to pretend there was any real affection between us. I pushed myself into a sitting position, my head still spinning. “My phone.” My mother handed it over, her face a mask of disapproval. “What are you planning now? I’m warning you, Zoe, don’t you dare go harassing Ethan again!” I said nothing, unlocking the screen and dialing a number. The call connected almost instantly. “Zoe? How are you?” It was Ethan’s voice—magnetic, but laced with an undeniable thread of impatience and distance. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. “Ethan, where are you?” He paused. “I’m with Luna. She’s shaken up. The doctor said she needs someone with her.” “Oh,” I nodded. “I need you to come here. We’ll talk in person.” “Talk about what? Zoe, I have nothing to say to you. Our engagement is over.” His voice turned to ice. “Exactly. That’s what we need to talk about,” I said calmly. “Come over, and we’ll sign the annulment papers.” Dead silence on the other end of the line. My father had finished his call and was now staring at me, his expression grim. My mother looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Zoe, what nonsense are you talking!” Ethan’s voice finally came through again, thick with disbelief. “What did you say? Sign papers?” “That’s right,” I said. “It’s mutual. A clean break. You come here, I sign, and we go our separate ways. You won’t have to worry about me bothering your precious little flower ever again.” He sounded like he was choking. After a long moment, he said, “Fine. I’ll be there.” The line went dead. My mother pointed a trembling finger at me. “Zoe, did you hit your head too hard? Do you have any idea what breaking this engagement will do to our family?” My father strode over, his face livid. “This is absurd! Call Ethan right now and apologize!” I looked at them and found the situation almost funny. “The impact? You mean the Southside Redevelopment Project? Is the Caldwell Corporation going to crumble without the Vances?” My father was speechless. “Apologize?” I continued. “For what? Because he protected another woman and sent me flying down a flight of stairs? Dad, Mom, did you forget? I’m your daughter.” They both just stared, stunned. Perhaps because I had never, ever spoken to them in that tone before. I couldn’t be bothered to look at them anymore. I leaned back against the headboard and closed my eyes. The concussion was starting to kick in, a dull throb behind my eyes. But my mind was crystal clear. To hell with the scumbag hero, to hell with the saintly heroine, and to hell with the villainess script. I was rich, beautiful, and the future heiress to a multi-billion-dollar corporation. Chase a man? Please. A man would only slow down the speed at which I could spend my money. 2 Ethan arrived quickly. Trailing behind him was Luna, the “helpless” heroine herself. She was wearing a simple white dress, her face tear-streaked and her eyes red. The moment she saw me, she shrank behind Ethan, putting on a masterful performance of a terrified victim. She was a natural. A shame she wasn’t an actress; she’d win awards. Ethan shielded her protectively, like a knight guarding his princess. He frowned at me, his brow so furrowed you could lose a fly in it. “Zoe, what kind of game are you playing now?” The moment my parents saw him, their faces transformed. “Ethan, dear, you’re here. Zoe is just confused right now, don’t mind her,” my mother said, her smile sickeningly sweet. “That’s right,” my father chimed in. “Kids throw tantrums. Don’t take it seriously.” Ignoring my parents’ frantic damage control, I pulled a document from the bedside table and tossed it to Ethan. “Here. The annulment agreement. My lawyer already drafted it. Take a look. If there are no issues, sign it.” Ethan glanced down at the papers, and his expression became a fascinating mix of shock, confusion, and the offended anger of a man whose ego had just been bruised. He was probably so used to me chasing after him that my sudden, decisive action was more than he could process. Luna peeked out from behind him and whispered, “Zoe… please don’t be like this. I know you hate me. It’s all my fault. Don’t take it out on Ethan. I’ll… I’ll leave.” As she spoke, fresh tears began to fall. I looked at her and asked with genuine curiosity, “Leave? To where? Are you leaving the city? Should I book you a flight? One-way or round trip?” Luna’s sobs caught in her throat. Ethan’s face darkened. “Zoe, that’s enough! Luna is a kind person. Don’t project your own twisted thoughts onto her!” “Kind?” I repeated the word. “Is ‘kind’ living in my family’s house, spending my family’s money, and seducing my fiancé? The bar for kindness seems pretty low these days.” “That’s not true!” Luna retorted, her voice trembling with emotion. “Ethan and I are truly in love!” “Oh, true love.” I nodded as if in sudden understanding. “Well, that’s perfect. I’m setting you free. Sign the papers, and he’s all yours. You two can go wherever you want, and no one will ever stand in your way.” Ethan stared at me, his eyes searching my face for any sign that this was a trick. “What do you really want?” “I want you to sign this document and get out of my life. Is that so hard to understand?” I cleaned my ear with my pinky. “Or are you perhaps reluctant to give up the benefits of a merger between the Vance and Caldwell fortunes?” That hit a nerve. His expression turned ugly. “Zoe, don’t you regret this.” He snatched a pen and scrawled his name on the document, pressing so hard he nearly tore through the paper. He threw the agreement back at me. “As you wish.” I took it, glanced at the signature, and nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent. As of this moment, we’re even.” My parents looked like they were about to have a collective aneurysm. “Zoe!” “You’re out of your mind!” I ignored them and turned to my assistant, Laura. “Laura, please show our guests out.” Ethan took Luna’s hand and started to leave, but he paused at the door and looked back at me, his eyes filled with a complex emotion. “Zoe, don’t think this little stunt will get my attention. It won’t work.” I laughed. “Mr. Vance, you’re overthinking things. I just realized… you’re not good enough for me.” His face instantly turned blacker than the bottom of a scorched pot. I didn’t spare him another glance. Instead, I pulled a checkbook from my purse, wrote out a series of numbers, tore out the check, and held it out to the still-sniffling Luna. “Here. Take this.” Luna just stared at it, not moving. Ethan frowned. “What are you doing now?” “A severance package,” I said simply. Everyone froze. I pressed the check into Luna’s hand, my tone surprisingly gentle. “Five million dollars. The pin is six zeros. Take this money, start a small business, buy a house, whatever. Just don’t ever show your face in front of me again. And tell your mother to stop working as our housekeeper. It’s not just awkward for you; her presence has become an embarrassment to me.” Luna’s fingers trembled, the check feeling like a hot coal in her hand. “I… I can’t take this! I’m not doing this for money!” “I know you’re not here for the money, you’re here for love,” I said with profound understanding. “But love doesn’t pay the bills. Take it. Consider it my wedding gift to you and Ethan. After all, I was a witness to your great love story.” I finished and looked back at Ethan. “What’s wrong? Is your ‘true love’ only worth this much? Or did you think it wasn’t enough?” Ethan was so furious he was speechless, his handsome face flushed a deep red. He had probably never been so humiliated in his life. To have a price tag put on his great romance was the ultimate insult. But that was exactly my intention. Talk about feelings with you people who live in a fantasy world? Sorry, I only talk money. It’s simple, direct, and incredibly effective. My breakup with Ethan, combined with the betrayal of my best friend, made me the talk of the town. The rumors were flying. Some said the shock had driven me insane. Others whispered that the Caldwell Corporation was on the brink of bankruptcy. And then there were those who claimed I, heartbroken and scorned, was on the verge of becoming a full-blown villainess. I had to laugh. Insane? I’d never been clearer in my life. Bankruptcy? Please. I’d just dropped eighty million on a diamond at auction yesterday like I was buying candy. As for being a villainess… I kind of liked the sound of that. A few days later, an invitation to a charity gala arrived. The host was a prominent socialite, a Mrs. Davenport. In the past, I would have attended on Ethan’s arm, a pretty accessory listening silently as he networked. But now? I was the powerhouse. That evening, I arrived alone, dressed in a striking crimson couture gown. The moment I walked in, every eye in the room was on me. I saw surprise, contempt, and a whole lot of morbid curiosity. I ignored it all, made a beeline for the buffet, and started filling a plate. I’d had a long day, and I was starving. As I was eating, Mrs. Davenport glided over, a champagne flute in her hand. “Zoe, darling, it’s been too long. You look absolutely stunning,” she purred, her smile perfectly pleasant. “You’re too kind, Mrs. Davenport,” I said, spearing a piece of foie gras. “I heard you’ve been through… a difficult time recently,” she continued, feigning concern. “With Ethan… oh, it’s such a shame.” “Nothing shameful about it. When you have trash, you take it out. You don’t save it for a special occasion, do you?” Mrs. Davenport’s smile froze on her face. A few of the women nearby who had been shamelessly eavesdropping suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “You have such a sense of humor, Zoe,” she said with a dry laugh before getting to the point. “Tonight’s gala is to raise funds for underprivileged children in rural areas. As a successful young woman from such a prominent family, I do hope you’ll contribute generously.” Here it comes. The guilt trip. I swallowed my food and looked at her. “I’m happy to contribute. But I have a rule when I donate.” “Oh? And what’s that?” she asked, intrigued. “I need to know where every single penny goes,” I stated. “Mrs. Davenport, would it be possible for us donors to review your foundation’s financial records?” The air went still. Mrs. Davenport’s expression soured. “Zoe, what are you implying? Are you questioning our foundation?” “I’m not questioning anything,” I replied, my face a picture of sincerity. “I’m simply exercising my right as a donor to be informed. It’s a reasonable request, isn’t it? After all, our money doesn’t grow on trees. We donate because we want to help those in need, not to line someone’s pockets so they can buy designer handbags and jewelry.” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet hall, it carried. Whispers erupted around us. Mrs. Davenport’s face turned a shade of beet red. “You… How dare you! Our foundation’s books are impeccable!” “Then let’s see them,” I said, holding my hands out. “If they’re so clean, you have nothing to hide. Unless, of course, you do.” “You!” She was sputtering with rage. Just then, a man with a protruding belly stepped in, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Miss Caldwell, must you be so aggressive? We’re all here for charity, to do some good. There’s no need to make things ugly.” “Ugly?” I shot back. “I think auditing financial records is standard procedure. Are you telling me that transparency is an ugly thing, Mr. Davenport?” “You’re just here to cause trouble!” he snapped. “Trouble?” I laughed. “Alright. If you think I’m causing trouble, I’ll see myself out.” I set down my plate and turned to leave. Everyone assumed I was retreating in defeat. A triumphant smirk even appeared on Mrs. Davenport’s face. I paused at the doorway, turned back, and offered the entire room a brilliant smile. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention. Half an hour ago, I had my assistant send a full dossier of evidence detailing your ‘charity’ foundation’s fraudulent accounting and tax evasion to the IRS and the State Attorney General’s office.” The room erupted. The Davenports’ faces went deathly pale. “And by the way,” I continued, “donating to children is a wonderful cause. That’s why I’ve already made a direct three-million-dollar donation from the Caldwell Corporation to the official Appalachian Children’s Fund. The funds are earmarked, ensuring every cent goes directly to the kids.” I locked eyes with the horrified Mrs. Davenport and delivered my final line. “Charity is a noble cause, Mrs. Davenport. It shouldn’t be a designer handbag to cover up the rot of people enriching themselves. Don’t you agree?” With that, I turned my back on the chaos and walked out, the clicks of my heels echoing in the stunned silence. The wind outside was brisk. And I felt fantastic.

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