Category: English

My daughter, Paige, had pulled another all-nighter for her fandom. I found her slumped asleep over her laptop keyboard. I was reaching for a blanket to drape over her when I accidentally saw the forum post she had open—a fresh rant about me: “My dad, this ancient penny-pincher, will drop cash on organic brisket, expensive seafood, and gourmet coffee for the kitchen, but won’t spot me for my concert tickets or merch drops.” “I’m going to lose it. Seriously, if he can’t support me properly now, I swear I won’t support him when he’s old!” One anonymous user replied, trying to be the voice of reason: “You’re just in your rebellious phase. You don’t understand financial pressure. Your dad buys necessities. Stanning an idol doesn’t fill your stomach.” Paige shot back a reply: “Spiritual nourishment is nourishment!” “My bias is the best human being on the planet. Why shouldn’t I spend money on him?!” “He’s not even close to being as cool as my mom’s boyfriend. He actually comes with me for airport pickups and buys me limited-edition albums!” “He’s my biological father, but he’s never understood where my soul finds its escape. Why did my mother ever settle for a stiff like him?” I felt a cold dread creep into my bones. All these years, I’d hustled like a corporate slave, working myself into the ground, often fifteen hours a day, just so this family could have a better life—the best life. And now? I was just the butt of an online joke. I was a “tool man.” Why the hell was I still grinding? When did I ever get to enjoy my own life? 1 I lay down on my bed, still scrolling through her forum posts on my phone. She had updated the thread: “Honestly, I know it sounds awful, but I really wish I’d lost my dad early. He’s been such a total headcase lately.” Someone commented: “What’s he bugging you about now?” She replied: “Everything. Every. Single. Day. He just hired this elite, one-on-one tutor to hover over me. I’m not his daughter, I’m his prisoner!” “Tomorrow is my birthday. I’m going to ask him for $500 for my idol’s new sponsored merchandise. If he says no, he stops being my father and becomes a mere ATM machine to me.” My heart plummeted. All the long-term planning and sacrificial love I had poured into her future—she saw it as a cage. It was the sharpened edge of the knife she now held pointed at my back. Suddenly, Paige walked into the room. Her expression was perfectly normal. “Dad, I’m starving. What’s for lunch?” I turned my phone screen off and spoke, my voice a cold, unfamiliar sound. “I’m not making lunch.” She always complained that I spent money on food for the house but none on her idols. The truth was, every cent of that food budget was for her. If the prodigal child couldn’t be tamed, I wouldn’t bother trying. My remaining life belonged to me. Paige paused, surprised. Even when I was sick, I had always made her three meals a day. She’d never missed one. The surprise lasted only a second. The next moment, a look of unmistakable glee flashed in her eyes, as if a heavy coat had been shed, and she was finally free. “Oh. Okay. I’ll just order takeout then. You rest.” Normally, I banned takeout, worried about her nutrition and health. Now, I saw that control had only given her another reason to trash me online. If she didn’t want the good life I was offering, then she could go ahead and run wild. Paige didn’t leave. She shifted the topic. “Dad, tomorrow’s my birthday. You don’t need to buy me a gift. Just give me $500 for my idol’s new endorsement—the limited-edition drop.” I sat up on the edge of the bed and stared at her, my face flat and cold. “No. My money is spoken for. Go ask your mother’s friend.” She was stunned, then immediately angry, but she tried to hold the rage in. “Not even a birthday gift?” “That’s right. From now on, there are no more gifts.” She couldn’t control herself anymore. Her face flushed scarlet, her neck stiffened, and her eyes spit fire. “So, what? Unless it’s a perfect GPA, I’m just a mistake to you? You think everything I care about is wrong!” I looked at this daughter who had somehow become a stranger to me and felt a hollow ache. It hadn’t always been like this. Before, she was a kind, sweet child. Our bond felt unbreakable. She’d told me so many times I was the best father in the world. Diana, my wife, walked in, her face stormy. “Adam Keller, what in God’s name is wrong with you?” She looked genuinely confused. Every year, I’d made a spectacular feast and bought Paige an expensive, carefully chosen gift. This was the first time I had ever coldly refused her. Diana patted Paige’s shoulder, soothing her. “Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s your birthday tomorrow. Mommy won’t let you down.” 2 The next morning, I went shopping. I bought a PlayStation 5, a Tag Heuer watch, and a pair of Balenciaga sneakers—things I’d always put off buying for myself. I signed up for a year-long membership at a high-end gym and went out for a long, quiet meal at an Italian bistro. I did not spend hours in the kitchen preparing the elaborate birthday meal I used to make for Paige. Afterward, I checked Paige’s forum. She had updated again. “My dad is completely unhinged now. Seriously, the man is having a psychotic break. Suddenly won’t cook, stopped managing the house, and even skipped my birthday.” “But it’s fine. The three of us—Mom, me, and Blake—celebrated at Blake’s place. Watching my bias’s new drama on his huge screen was heaven.” A user offered an analysis: “Maybe your dad just got tired of seeing you chase an idol so hard and he’s disappointed?” The thread split. One side supported Paige, mostly saying: “If you don’t have passions, what’s the point of living? Who cares about a K-pop idol? It’s not like you’re doing drugs. Having a joyless parent is the worst.” A smaller group said: “Everything in moderation. Maybe if you focused until college, your dad wouldn’t have such a problem.” Paige replied to that: “That’s where Blake shines. It’s no wonder Mom is crazy about him; he’s so understanding. My dad doesn’t compare to a single hair on Blake’s head.” “Anyway, the parent-teacher meeting is next week. There’s no way I’m letting Dad go.” Someone followed up: “You’re not actually going to take Blake, are you?” She responded instantly: “Duh, of course, I am! Blake is the best man I know. Mom is going to divorce my psycho dad soon anyway, and I’m definitely picking Mom and Blake.” My heart turned to a bitter shard of ice. The kind of cold that chills you to the bone. I didn’t get home until late that night. Paige and Diana were already back. They had clearly had a fantastic birthday celebration, but they were still wearing expressions of injured pride. Diana immediately started in. “Adam, it was our daughter’s birthday. Why did you make such a scene?” I countered: “I’ve celebrated both of your birthdays every single year. Have either of you ever done anything for mine?” She was caught off-guard, but she quickly turned hostile. “You’re changing the subject. You’re being ridiculous and petty.” Paige played the good daughter, stepping in. “Stop fighting. I don’t even care about presents.” Her mood was obviously good. I knew why. I’d seen the posts. Blake had given her $1,000 for her idol’s merchandise. As I expected, she didn’t mention the upcoming parent-teacher conference. As luck would have it, a friend of mine needed someone to cover a meeting for his son in the same class. I volunteered instantly. I wanted to see for myself who this “Little Dad” was. When I entered the classroom, I saw him. He was Blake Ellis, the sales associate at Diana’s boutique consulting firm. The firm only had three people: a receptionist, him, and her. He was young, maybe 25, and yes, conventionally handsome. I sat right behind him. Neither he nor Paige noticed me. The guidance counselor’s main task was to discuss college applications and career aspirations. When she got to Paige, Blake smiled warmly and said: “Paige won’t be taking the SATs. Her grades aren’t really strong enough anyway. Her mother and I just want her to be happy and healthy. No pressure.” The counselor, Ms. Reyes, was confused. I had met with her several times, begging her to pay extra attention to Paige’s declining performance. She instinctively asked: “You are Paige’s…?” Paige jumped up, beaming with pride. “He’s my dad.” Ms. Reyes glanced at me, sitting directly behind them, and then introduced me, completely bewildered. “Paige, your father is sitting right there. What is going on?” The whole room turned to stare at me and Blake, a chorus of confused murmurs breaking out. Paige spun around as if struck by lightning, clearly shocked to see me. I smiled, a thin, cruel expression I’d never worn before. “Paige, who exactly is your father?” The crowd exploded in whispers. “What is happening? The nerve of that child!” “She’s completely out of control. Someone needs to discipline her.” “First, she hires a fake dad for a school meeting, what will she do next?” Paige’s face was a mess of shame and anger. She hesitated, then, as if making a final, desperate choice, she spoke. “I’m not lying. Blake Ellis is my dad.” Ms. Reyes pressed her. “But Mr. Keller has always attended your meetings.” “He’s my uncle,” Paige insisted, her chin high. “My real dad died a long time ago. My mother only just remarried. He was afraid I’d be bullied without a father, so he was pretending to be him.” She spoke with righteous indignation, not a hint of shame. Though I had already decided to cut this daughter loose, seeing the child I had nurtured with all my love plunge a knife into my back still twisted my stomach. It was a cold, sharp, and excruciating pain. Ms. Reyes looked at me. “Mr. Keller, is that true?” I didn’t hesitate. I was done playing a role for them. I would give them what they wanted. “Yes, Ms. Reyes. Blake Ellis is Paige’s biological father.” “Regarding Paige’s education, you should take all instructions from Mr. Ellis.” 3 Paige dropped out of all her college prep courses. When we got home, she tried to cover her guilt. “Dad, don’t misunderstand. I lied because I was trying to save face.” “You don’t want the whole school to know I was lying and had a stand-in, do you? I wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye again.” I let out a flat, indifferent laugh. “I know you were trying to save face.” She saw my smile, relaxed instantly, and, breathing a sigh of relief, probed me. “Dad, I stopped the SAT prep. You’re not mad, are you?” I gave her the same blank smile. “No. Not at all.” She wasn’t my daughter anymore. Getting angry would just be punishing myself. From now on, I wouldn’t have to pay for an elite education, fund college tuition, save for a down payment on a car or a house, or set aside a nest egg for her wedding. The truly relieved person was me. I was finally, profoundly unburdened. That evening, Diana called me. “Honey, can you wire me some cash? I’m networking out of town, and my expense account is running low.” Over the years, she had always demanded money as her birthright. I made 5,000 a month at my corporate job, but she felt her “genius” was wasted on that. She’d been trying to launch her own consulting startup for years, always traveling. She took a reliable 2,000 from me every month. I gave it without complaint, supporting her dream. But the knowledge that she had a lover out there made my stomach turn. “No money,” I said, my voice clinical. “I bought myself a macbook with this month’s pay.” Diana and I had started with nothing. Over the years, I’d hustled and worked my way up from a low salary to a stable, comfortable one. But I never bought anything I truly wanted, always putting the family first. Diana exploded when she heard I spent the money on a graphics card, furious that I hadn’t consulted her. I couldn’t stand her emotional torrent, so I hung up. She immediately sent me dozens of 60-second voice notes and a scathing, thousand-word text message. This was the first time in our marriage she had ever sent me so many messages. Before, I was the one sending them, and she would reply with a terse “K,” “Got it,” or often, nothing at all. Middle-aged marriages can retreat from passion into a polite numbness. I had gone from being hysterical about her indifference to becoming numb myself. I didn’t listen to the voice notes. I didn’t read the essay. I would now treat her the way she had treated me. Two days later, the cemetery director called me. “Mr. Keller, we had an unexpected situation. Your parents’ remains were removed, and the plot has been sold to a client who is very eager to buy it.” “I’ve been trying to reach your wife, but the line is constantly busy. Could you come in to sign the paperwork and finalize the sale?” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I gripped the phone, shaking with fury. “What did you say? The remains were sold? Who sold them?” The director realized I had no idea, and his voice shrank to a terrified whisper. 4 “Your wife, Mrs. Diana Keller. She came in yesterday with two other clients.” “She… sold your parents’ cremains as a kind of morbid ‘posthumous arrangement.’ Your mother’s to a recently deceased elderly gentleman, and your father’s to a single, wealthy woman who passed away recently.” “Your wife instructed us to sell the plot now that the urns were gone, and we have a buyer ready.” My blood pressure spiked. I warned him: “Do not sell that plot. Do you understand? If you do, I will sue the cemetery into the ground.” My parents had loved each other their entire lives. Now, that lowlife Diana had sold their remains. I was about to call the police when Diana and Paige walked in. The first thing Diana did was grab a phone charger. “That was annoying. My phone died.” Neither of them noticed the volcanic fury on my face. One fiddled with her phone; the other threw her backpack into her room and called out to me like I was a servant. “Dad, I want Shrimp Scampi tonight.” Diana didn’t look up. “I have a business dinner. I’m eating out.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I looked straight at Diana. “Where did you sell my parents’ remains?” She finally looked up, her expression briefly flinching with guilt, before she forced a soothing tone. “Oh, that. I was going to tell you later.” “Your parents lived a hard life, honey. I just wanted them to have an easier time in the next life, you know? I found them wealthy ‘partners’ for their eternal rest. It’s my way of showing them respect as a daughter-in-law.” Her preposterous lie snapped my control. I hit her. The slap echoed through the silent house. Paige heard the noise and burst out of her room, screaming at me. “Dad, what is your problem?! Mom is trying to run a company! Why didn’t you support her? She wouldn’t have had to sell the ashes otherwise!” “You never look at your own faults. You only ever blame others!” Shaking from the inside out, I backhanded my daughter. It was the first time I had ever struck her. She couldn’t process the shock. Her face turned crimson, and she ran screaming out the front door. Diana immediately chased after her. I stood alone in the center of the living room, trying to extinguish the inferno in my chest. Then Diana’s phone vibrated. I snatched it up and checked the screen. It was a text from Blake Ellis. “Wifey I love you so much! And our daughter! I can’t believe you bought me that $5,0000 Rolex for my anniversary. I couldn’t bring myself to buy it, so I put the cash towards Paige’s fan club event instead. As long as she’s happy, I’m happy. I love you both.” “Tell our girl I’ll stay up all night with her watching her idol’s new reality show. When we’re done, I’ll give you your real reward (kiss emoji).” She had sold my parents’ ashes to buy her lover an expensive watch. My entire body felt hollow, burned out. It took me a long time to regain my equilibrium. The first thing I did was call my lawyer. I initiated a criminal complaint and filed for divorce. The second thing I did was call a realtor. I was listing the house immediately. If they wanted a bad life for me, I would make sure no one walked away unscathed. It didn’t take long for the police to confirm the buyers of the remains had already left the country, and the ashes were not recoverable. The next day, Diana rushed back, clutching two generic urns, trying to smooth things over. “Honey, I have a surprise for you! Ta-da! I got the ashes back! See? All better. Don’t be mad anymore.” I smiled, a meaningless expression. “Honey, I have a surprise for you, too. Close your eyes.” Diana was relieved, thinking she had successfully manipulated me back into place. She happily closed her eyes. She trusted me completely; I had always asked her to close her eyes when I gave her a gift. I counted silently: Three, two, one. A massive, authoritative sound of approaching footsteps echoed outside the door. This time, I was ensuring a final resolution.

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I was obsessed with this sweet high school romance novel. The male lead was everything—my type, down to the last detail. So, there I was, curled up in bed, squealing “husband” at my phone screen, and then…poof. I was in the book. Not as the main character, of course. I was the side character he wouldn’t spare a single glance for. Heartbreak. Despair. Resignation. Fine. If I couldn’t win the heart of the male lead, I would win the heart of academia. And so, my new life began. I studied with a feverish intensity, my nose buried in a book while I ate, while I walked. Even on the toilet. By some strange twist of fate, I tested into the same advanced class as him. Just when I thought I could fly under the radar, the female lead cornered me. She accused me of trying to steal her man. What? 1 The day I transmigrated into this world, I fell for Liam Kendrick. It wasn’t love at first sight; it was a long-nurtured crush. Back when I was just a reader, I’d clutch my blankets and whisper his name like a prayer. The cool, brilliant, untouchable academic star—he was my ultimate weakness. Seeing him in the flesh? It was almost too much to handle. But reality was a cold shower. Here, in this world, he wasn’t my fictional crush anymore. He was a complete stranger, and I was just a ghost in the halls. All I could do was watch from the sidelines as his epic love story with the female lead, Mia, unfolded. A hollow ache settled in my chest, a constant, dull pressure. Back then, he and Mia weren’t together yet. A legion of girls had crushes on Liam, and a brave few even confessed. Every single one was met with his signature icy rejection. I knew my own quiet admiration was destined for the same fate, so I buried it deep. I was a nobody. A girl with a fractured family, not pretty enough, not confident enough. I didn’t even get the standard transmigrator’s starter pack—no magical system, no cheat codes to grant my every wish. All I had was a burning frustration, which I channeled into my studies. It was partly because it was what a girl my age was supposed to do, and partly because of a tiny, selfish hope. I wanted to get closer to Liam. Just a little. I wasn’t asking for a miracle. Just being able to see him every day would be enough. From that day on, I was the first one to arrive at school and the last to leave, a book always in my hand, even during lunch. After one placement exam, my rank shot up by over two hundred spots, landing me in the honors class—Liam and Mia’s class. On my first day in the new classroom, Mia rushed over. “Ava? Who are you looking for?” In the original story, my character was a certified slacker. She and Mia were frenemies; she’d gossip about people with Mia by day and then lie in bed at night, seething with jealousy over Mia’s effortless radiance. Studying was the last thing on her mind. So, Mia naturally assumed I was lost. “I tested into this class,” I explained quietly. “What?” Her eyes widened. She spun around and ran to the front of the class to check the roster on the teacher’s desk. When she came back, she gave me a slow, deliberate once-over. “Wow. Big improvement.” I managed a shy smile and slipped into my new seat, my head bowed. Liam sat on the other side of the room. Pretending to gaze out the window, I snuck a peek at him from the corner of my eye. Mia was already chattering at him, probably telling him about my surprising arrival. He looked utterly uninterested, but he did flick a brief, indifferent glance in my direction. I held my breath, my gaze snapping back to the notebook on my desk so fast it was almost comical. That was close. Too close. We almost made eye contact. 2 The atmosphere in the honors class was a different world. The intensity was palpable. Here, I wasn’t the weird one for studying during breaks. Everyone did. We’d cluster in small groups, debating complex problems, our voices a low, focused hum. I thrived. My grades stabilized, keeping me near the top of our year. Eventually, I got into the same magnet high school as Liam and Mia. Based on our entrance exam scores, I just barely scraped into the same homeroom as Liam. He was ranked first; I was third from the bottom. Mia, however, was placed in a different class. The original plot needed this separation. Liam was the genius, while Mia was the effortlessly smart and charming girl who could ace tests without ever seeming to try. The author split them up so Mia could meet the second male lead in her new class, sparking a whole new arc of sweet and sour drama. None of that mattered to me. I just kept my head down and studied. For the first two years of high school, Liam and I were just classmates. We never spoke. The only times we were ever in the same frame were when Mia would occasionally stop by to chat with me. Even when we’d pass each other in the halls after school, we were strangers. No nods, no greetings. He genuinely didn’t notice me. I, on the other hand, was a master of deception. My heart would thunder in my chest whenever he was near, but my face remained a perfect, placid mask. Not a single crack. I was getting really good at this. My obsession with studying meant my already-tenuous friendship with Mia faded into almost nothing. By the time we were nearing graduation, she had all but forgotten I existed. Then, senior year started, and she suddenly became friendly again. She insisted I was studying too hard, that I needed to relax. One day, she even roped Liam into her plans, inviting me to hang out with them. Did I want to go? Absolutely not. That time could be better spent tackling a few practice exams. But she was relentless, and I finally caved. I figured I could just bring my review book and study while they had fun. When I arrived at the meeting spot, my mind went blank. An amusement park. According to the novel, this was where they would have their first kiss. This was the moment they’d finally break through that last barrier and officially become a couple. My heart was in turmoil. I went through the motions of the day in a daze, barely registering the rides or the food. As dusk fell, the park lit up in a cascade of dreamlike colors. Mia grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled him toward the fireworks show. I trailed behind them, a forgotten shadow dozens of feet away, jostled by the swelling crowd. There, under a sky exploding with shimmering light, they confessed their feelings. Mia stood on her toes and gave Liam a shy, tender kiss. It was a picture-perfect moment, and I couldn’t bear to watch. I dropped my head, my vision blurring as hot tears fell, one after another, splattering onto the pages of my review book. I fled, a coward escaping a scene not meant for my eyes. I sent Mia a text, lying that I had to get home before my curfew. Of course, she didn’t reply. They had already forgotten I was ever there. As they held hands, their fingers intertwined with a promise of forever, their forgotten third wheel was running home, wiping away tears. I collapsed in my empty apartment and let out a choked, desperate sob. I’m sorry. This time, I just couldn’t pretend anymore. But even as the sobs wracked my body, I forced myself to grab a workbook and start writing, the pen shaking in my hand. A one-sided crush is a special kind of torture, especially for someone like me, who had nothing else. My only superpower, I guess, was having lived a life before this one. I knew the grinding importance of studying. And I knew not to waste myself on a love that was never meant to be. 3 Liam and Mia were officially together. Their ten-year romance, a marathon of love and devotion, was just beginning. They would fight, they would break up, but Liam would never stop loving Mia, and she would always have a place for him in her heart. A beautiful sentiment. For me, it was a death sentence. I wasn’t the only one suffering. The second male lead, Caleb, was about to have his world turned upside down. After they got together, his unrequited love for Mia would drive him to stir up all sorts of trouble. In the book, I was supposed to be one of the people fanning the flames, but frankly, I was more worried about my midterm grades. A wave of relief washed over me when my teacher told me, a proud smile on her face, that I’d placed second in the year. It soothed the ache in my heart, just a little. From third-to-last at the start of the year to second place by midterms. My hard work was finally paying off. In our class, seats were assigned based on rank. Liam was the immovable king, always in the first-place seat. And now, I was assigned to the desk right next to him. My desk mate. His desk mate. This had to be the start of something, right? The kind of trope that sets up a whole story. In reality? Nothing happened. We sat inches apart, but days went by without a single word exchanged. His silence was born of his naturally aloof personality; mine was born of a guilty conscience. I didn’t dare speak. The first and only thing he said to me in a week was a quiet observation. “Ava, your water bottle is leaking.” As I wiped up the puddle, I couldn’t help but correct him on a different matter. “It’s Ava Song…” Haha. He didn’t even remember my last name. We continued on like that, two strangers sharing a desk, until one day Mia stormed into our classroom and started a fight with Liam right in front of me. She demanded to know why he hadn’t told her we were desk mates. Liam just frowned, genuinely confused. “Is that important?” Since the school year began, he’d already had several desk mates thanks to the constant reshuffling after each exam. But for some reason, Mia seemed particularly bothered by me. Her eyes darted between me and him. In the end, she didn’t say another word. She just turned and ran out, tears streaming down her face. I guess I could see her point. I was someone she knew, at least peripherally. If my boyfriend was suddenly sitting next to a girl I was acquainted with and didn’t mention it, I’d probably feel a little slighted, too. After lunch, I decided to find Mia and try to clear the air. “Mia…” I called her name, but she acted like she hadn’t heard me, laughing and joking with her friends. “Oh my god, so I watched that movie you told me about yesterday, and I was literally dying, hahaha…” I stood there awkwardly for a beat before deciding to retreat. This was clearly not the time. We barely talked anymore anyway; bringing up something as trivial as our seating arrangement would probably just make things weirder. And Liam and I were practically strangers. He’d sort it out with her. It wasn’t my problem. Overthinking it was a waste of brainpower, so I let it go. A few days later, however, someone was waiting for me after school. “Ava Song, right?” It was Caleb Vance, the second male lead. I had my earbuds in, listening to a language lesson, and didn’t even hear him call my name. I walked right past him. He let out an indignant squawk, jumped in front of me, and yanked the earbuds out of my ears. “…” I scowled. “Can I help you?” My expression must have been less than friendly, because he flinched before puffing his chest out, trying to look tough. “Listen up!” he snarled. “I don’t like that Kendrick kid, but I’m not gonna let you hurt Mia and mess up their relationship.” That was… a weird way to phrase things. It took me a second to process. “How exactly am I messing up their relationship?” “Don’t play dumb,” Caleb scoffed, crossing his arms. “You’re the one trying to seduce Liam, aren’t you? Hah. All this trouble, and for what? I thought you’d be some supermodel or something, but you’re not even half as pretty as Mia.” I was trying to seduce Liam? That was news to me. “Do you have any proof?” I asked, my voice flat. “Of course I do!” he declared. “The proof is that you’re sitting next to him!” “…You do know seats in our class are assigned by grades, right?” I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “Oh, wait. Are you suggesting I should have intentionally failed my exam just to avoid sitting next to him?” “That would be for the best.” Caleb didn’t catch the sarcasm, a smug grin spreading across his face. Normally, I wouldn’t waste my breath on someone like him. But his rudeness, combined with the baseless accusations, had officially crossed a line. “Too bad,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “Unlike you, who had mommy and daddy pull some strings to get in here, I don’t play games with my education.” Caleb was a trust-fund kid. His parents, new money, wanted him to have the prestige of a public magnet school rather than some elite private academy. But the “money can buy anything” mindset was already hardwired into his brain. He could afford to treat life like a game. I couldn’t. Sitting next to Liam was a happy accident. But even if it wasn’t him, I had earned that seat. In fact, I was coming for his seat. Caleb’s face turned purple with rage. He threatened to make me pay. It was exactly like his character in the book—impulsive and hot-headed, but not truly malicious. After all, he was here, warning me not to hurt the girl he loved, even as he was heartbroken that she was with someone else. I didn’t take his threats seriously. Until the next monthly exam. When I was caught for cheating. 4 In the middle of the exam, I was pulled out of my seat. The proctor announced that a student had reported me for bringing a cheat sheet into the exam. Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he fished a tiny, translucent slip of paper from my pocket. It was covered in minuscule, printed text—a summary of all the key concepts for the test. “Ava, Ava, Ava! I always thought you were such an honest and hardworking student. How could you do something like this!?” “This isn’t just irresponsible to yourself! You’re bringing shame upon your family and our entire class!” “Your grades at the beginning of the year were mediocre. Did you use tricks like this to improve so dramatically?” I stood in the principal’s office, a storm of accusations raining down on me from the disappointed teachers. They questioned my integrity, my character, my past achievements. When I insisted the cheat sheet wasn’t mine, it only made things worse. Denying it was an admission of guilt. I wracked my brain. Before the exam, I’d left my blazer on my chair when I went to the bathroom. That must have been when someone slipped it into my pocket and then reported me. It had to be Caleb, or someone he’d put up to it. The plan was crude, but devastatingly effective. Who would even think to do something so childish in high school? I had no way to prove my innocence. My only defense was to suggest they question the person who reported me. But they cited student privacy, refusing to reveal the name. The verdict was final. I was guilty. A school-wide announcement was made. The Dean of Students was a firm believer in making an example of people. There would be no anonymity. [HONORS CLASS STUDENT AVA SONG (ID# XXXX) CAUGHT CHEATING ON MONTHLY EXAM] The bright red text scrolled across the digital announcement board in the main lobby. Every student who walked into the building saw it. Naturally, I became a pariah. No one wanted me in their group for projects. No one would partner with me in gym class. During after-school cleanup, I was assigned all the outdoor tasks by myself. “Stay away, cheater,” they’d sneer, making exaggerated faces of disgust. It was fine. I wasn’t a real teenager. Their accusations could frame me, but they couldn’t break me. I weathered the storm. When the exam results were posted, my score was nullified. I was moved to a desk in the corner of the classroom, a place of exile. A new girl sat next to Liam. She was brilliant, popular, and had a very public crush on him. She’d bring him water after basketball practice and “accidentally” fall asleep on his shoulder during study hall. Mia, however, seemed completely unbothered, sometimes even linking her arm with Liam’s just to watch the other girl’s eyes well up with tears. Caleb didn’t bother her at all. He would just lean against the back door of our classroom, a triumphant, gloating look on his face as he watched me. He’d mouth the word. Serves. You. Right. … Reading the book, I never realized Caleb was this immature. My public shaming was his victory. But did it really affect me? Not really. I kept studying, kept eating, kept moving forward. During gym, when no one would partner with me, I’d sneak back to the empty classroom to work on practice exams. I was just finishing the last problem on a difficult calculus worksheet when I sensed someone beside me. It was Liam. He had been standing there, watching me, for who knows how long. Not watching me, exactly, but watching my paper. He was holding a basketball under one arm; he must have come back to grab it. He was so close. Close enough for me to catch the clean, fresh scent of his soap. For some reason, neither of us spoke. The classroom was silent, so quiet I could hear the frantic drumming of my own heart. A strange, poignant sadness washed over me. I didn’t want to speak. I didn’t want to move. I wanted time to freeze in this one, perfect moment. But I couldn’t let myself be greedy. Another few seconds, and the fragile atmosphere might shatter into something complicated and awkward. Finally, I broke the silence. “What’s up?” “Hmm…” He paused, his eyes still on my paper. “You made a mistake on this step.” Which one? Can you show me? That’s what I should have said. The desk next to me was empty, a seat no one wanted. If I had just asked, he might have sat down, his voice a low murmur as he explained the complex problem. Instead, the pragmatic, self-protective part of me took over. I calmly picked up my phone and opened a study app. “Oh. I’ll just look it up online.” “Okay.” Liam turned and walked away. As I efficiently uploaded a picture of the problem, a silent tear traced a path down my cheek. Stupid, stubborn pride. I was hopeless.

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I became the ‘Cool blood Mom’—the ultimate enabler my daughter always claimed she wanted—right after the car accident. She craved a sugary rush? I ordered her a Venti Caramel Macchiato every single day—full-sugar, extra whip, and enough ice to give her a brain freeze. She wanted to skip school? I called in sick for her, lying easily to the attendance office. Then, on her birthday, as she shoveled a slice of the custom Red Velvet cake I’d bought, I casually asked: “Willow, if Daddy and I decided to split up, who would you choose? Mom or Dad?” My daughter didn’t even look up from the frosting. “Dad, obviously.” She licked her fork clean, finally meeting my eyes. “I like Serena. If I’m with Dad, she can be my new mom.” A chilling silence dropped over the kitchen. Adam’s jaw tightened, and I saw his knee subtly bump Serena’s under the table—a hushed warning. Serena flinched, her soft features tightening. But I just smiled. It was a genuine, unrestrained smile. I reached out and gently wiped a smear of cream from the corner of Willow’s mouth. “Then I hope your wish comes true, sweetheart.” No one knew I had been given a second chance. I had woken up in the hospital, the metallic tang of dried blood in my mouth, the trauma of the past life burned away by the fresh horror of the present. In that first life, I had fought tooth and nail to keep Willow. And for my devotion, she was murdered by her own father. This time, I was leaving nothing behind. Especially not a serpent’s tooth like her. 1 “Clara, I feel like you’ve changed.” The sudden, cold observation sliced through the quiet hum of the dishwasher. I was standing at the stainless steel sink, rinsing the last of the expensive porcelain. I didn’t turn around. “Oh? Like what, Adam?” I replied, my voice flat. “Like… if Willow had said she wanted a new mother a month ago, you would have blown up.” His voice was low, careful—the way men speak when they’re fishing for a fight, not an answer. When I kept my back to him, he plunged ahead. “And you’ve become too lax with her. The doctors were very clear she needs to monitor her sugar intake. You’re giving her those crazy, high-sugar coffee drinks every day. That cake was half-a-pound of sugar.” He paused, his tone hardening into accusation. “Her teacher called me. She hasn’t turned in homework all week. You aren’t even checking on her assignments…” I picked up the final glass bowl. The brittle clink as I set it on the rack cut him off. “Isn’t this what she wanted?” I asked, shrugging, and tilted my head toward the living room. My ‘best friend,’ Serena Wells, was carefully peeling a ripe mango for Willow—a fruit I’d explicitly banned from our house due to the sugar content. Willow was curled into her side, giggling and petting Serena’s arm. They looked like the perfect, effortless mother-daughter pair. “You two always complained I was too strict,” I said, drying my hands with a crisp linen towel. “That I wasn’t as gentle or understanding as Serena. So, naturally, I’m taking notes.” Adam’s expression froze. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, a thousand unspoken arguments trapped behind his teeth. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with manufactured outrage. “Clara, Serena is your friend. You brought her into our lives. Can you stop with the dramatics? Stop being so insecure.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “The girl doesn’t connect with you. Instead of poisoning her body, maybe look at why your own daughter prefers the company of others. It’s your fault, not Serena’s.” His words were razor wire twisting in my chest, a familiar pain. Only the people closest to you know exactly where to strike for the deepest wound. But my heart was already a mass of scar tissue. It couldn’t ache anymore. In the past life, this was Adam’s specialty—Gaslighting 101. He told me the distance between Willow and me was because of my rigidity, my inability to be soft, while Serena was the epitome of warmth. So I kept calling her. Every cold war, every family vacation, Serena was there, the “buffer.” I even allowed Willow to call her ‘Mom’ on occasion and use my first name instead of ‘Mother.’ I bit down on the memory. When Willow was sitting for her college entrance exams, stressed and frantic, I was sitting outside in the sweltering heat, waiting for her. Adam, meanwhile, was sweating through the sheets with my best friend. When I found out, I swallowed the bile and the blood. I didn’t say a word, terrified that the scandal would derail Willow’s future. When I finally demanded the divorce, I walked away with nothing but the custody papers for my daughter. I built an entire life from scratch—a successful clothing design studio, long days, zero sleep—all to send Willow to an elite college. And then she was dead. Adam had plunged a knife into her neck. It was only then, as I collapsed over her body, that I learned the rest of the awful truth. Even after the divorce, Willow had secretly been running money and favors to Adam and Serena. When my business flourished, and theirs crashed, Adam’s jealousy turned lethal. I was weeping, howling over the body of my child, and he was laughing hysterically. “I wanted you to feel what it’s like to lose everything,” he cackled. “You think Willow didn’t know I was cheating? She covered for us! She was the one who kept making up excuses to bring Serena over. Give her a few more cakes, let her skip a few classes, and the little brat treated Serena like her real mother. Just as stupid as you are.” My vision grayed. A sharp, unbearable pain ripped through my chest. A silent heart attack. I fell into the darkness, but the truth was finally, blindingly clear. The child I sacrificed everything for was an ungrateful leech. And the love she craved was just cheap, effortless indulgence. A polite knock on the door pulled me back to the present. Willow stood there, holding Serena’s hand, a rehearsed pout on her face. “Mom, I want Aunt Serena to go to the Parent-Teacher Conference tomorrow.” Her eyes, Adam’s eyes, were narrowed in practiced manipulation. “You’re too scary. My friends are afraid of you when you come to school. They won’t come over anymore.” Adam frowned slightly, his face a mask of ‘good father’ disappointment. “Willow, your mother’s discipline is for your own good.” But he turned to me, his gaze testing the waters. “But honey, she has a point. Willow’s social life is important.” I cut him off. “You two go. I have a meeting anyway. I wasn’t planning on attending.” They both froze, caught off guard by my immediate, total surrender. Serena immediately draped an arm over my shoulder, a saccharine smile on her face. “Don’t be mad, Clara. You’re Willow’s only mother. I’m just… running errands for you.” But later that week, a video popped up in the school administrator’s private feed—a quick post from the PTC. In the video, Willow was beaming, holding hands with Adam on her left and Serena on her right, calling them “the best parents ever.” The post vanished almost instantly. I, however, had already captured it on a screen-recorder, which I then sent to my lawyer, Ms. Sterling. Click. Send. “Ms. Sterling,” I wrote. “Does this qualify as evidence of their ongoing marital misconduct?” 2 My biggest regret from the previous life was walking away with only an ungrateful daughter and nothing else. This time, Adam Thorne was going to be the one stripped bare. The lawyer, a sharp-featured woman named Michelle, reviewed the evidence I’d meticulously gathered. A confident smile crossed her face. “Ms. Sterling, your files are remarkably organized. I’m ninety percent certain we can secure the majority of the marital assets for you.” She paused, flipping a page. “I do see, however, that your daughter has Type 1 Diabetes. The medical costs alone are astronomical. Are you absolutely certain you want to forfeit her custody?” I ran a finger over the rim of my coffee cup. The bitter taste of the brew was nothing compared to the acrid memory of the life I’d just escaped. Willow has an aggressive, congenital genetic disorder. Her pancreas was essentially dead by age six, and she’d been hospitalized three times for diabetic ketoacidosis. The doctors warned me: manage her blood sugar, or the complications would destroy her—blindness, amputation, kidney failure. Any of them could kill her. So I became the iron fist. I forced her into a low-carb, low-sugar diet. I demanded two thirty-minute sessions of exercise daily. I bought her the most advanced Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM) and insulin pump, tracking every reading. Willow was too young to understand the terror of the disease. Every time she cried, begging for ice cream or refusing to run, my heart bled. But I would steel myself, thinking of the grisly photos of gangrene and organ failure, and I made her obey. The consequence: the child I had nearly killed myself to protect grew up to despise me. I recalled her eighteenth birthday. She’d screamed at me over a small slice of cake. “Clara, your need to control me is suffocating! I’m not your daughter, I’m your dog!” Even as her life ebbed out, stabbed by Adam, she instinctively called out for Serena, dying in the other woman’s arms while glaring at me with raw, venomous hatred. The thought of that glare made me involuntarily shiver. She died hating me. She never saw the three jobs I worked after the first divorce to pay for her care. She didn’t see me setting an alarm every two hours at night to check her blood sugar, sacrificing my own rest, watching my hair turn prematurely gray. Michelle watched me with concern. “Ms. Sterling, if you secure the bulk of the assets, the court, in the interest of the child’s well-being, is highly likely to award you the custody.” I shook my head. “That won’t happen.” I was not going to raise Willow again. She was the mosquito, the viper, the leech who had sucked me dry and then gifted my blood to my enemies. I pushed a separate manila envelope across the desk. Michelle glanced at the contents and her pupils dilated instantly. Before she could speak, my phone blared a familiar, piercing alarm. My heart—the muscle I thought was dead—still skipped a beat. The alarm, the high-pitched warning for dangerously high blood sugar, was the signature ringtone for Willow’s CGM. As I drove toward the GPS coordinates, she called. The thirteen-year-old’s voice was full of desperate, theatrical sobs. “Mom, my sugar is spiking, I don’t know why! I’m so dizzy!” I slammed my fist on the steering wheel. “Where is your father? Where is Serena? Weren’t they at the conference today?” Willow’s sobbing stopped for a beat. “Mom, you’re my only mom. I don’t know where they are.” I found the location—a derelict community college building five minutes from her school. By the time I realized the GPS had led me to an abandoned warehouse district, it was too late. A group of hulking men surrounded me. No preamble. No talk. Just the sickening sound of belt buckles being undone. The man in front raised a cheap camcorder and grinned. As he grabbed my hair, I saw her. Willow was standing in the shadows, watching.

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The moment I agreed to take Rhys Easton back, his so-called ‘sister-figure’ was right back on his lap. Her arm draped around his neck, she shot me a condescending smirk. “Chill out, Avery. Don’t get all psycho-jealous again. It’s no big deal. You know I don’t even like this jerk.” I simply offered a thin smile and said, “It’s fine.” From the second we reunited, I had committed to becoming Rhys Easton’s idea of the perfect girlfriend. No more raging fits of jealousy over his casual banter with his female ‘bro.’ No more secretly installing GPS trackers on his phone to monitor his every move. Now, even if he and his sister-figure shared a joke-kiss, slept in the same bed, or—as they had last night—had a drunken hookup, I could deliver the morning-after pill without a flicker of emotion. “I get it,” I said calmly, placing the water bottle and foil packet on his nightstand. “It was an accident. You were just drunk. I’m not mad.” It wasn’t because my love for Rhys Easton was that deep. It was because the System had promised me that anything I gained from him—any physical asset—I could take back with me to my original world. I wasn’t going to waste three years of my life with him for nothing. 1 “Why aren’t you angry?” Rhys looked at me, his brow tightly furrowed. I already knew what I would find behind the door when an anonymous text led me here. I used to be angry. I used to be an inferno of rage. From the start, Rhys had indulged his childhood friend, Dakota Riley. He called her his best friend, his ride-or-die. But when he started eating off her fork, I’d flipped the table. When they lost a game of Truth or Dare and kissed, I’d slapped Dakota so hard her face swelled up, and then I put a tracker on Rhys’s phone. His friends hated me. Rhys called me crazy, hysterical. Dakota, crying, swore she’d cut him out of her life. The breaking point was when Dakota fell critically ill with a 104-degree fever. After she was rushed to the ER and stabilized, she looked at Rhys, weak but furious. “Why did you even bother, you asshole? Your psycho-girlfriend is just going to show up and beat me senseless again. She’ll finish the job for the fever, you idiot!” The fear of losing Dakota was what finally made Rhys snap. He dumped me. I had only come to this world for him. Once the initial mission failed, the System went silent. I was stranded. No documentation, no degree, no way to get home. I went from the pampered girlfriend of the City’s richest heir to scrubbing floors and waiting tables. The fall from grace was devastating. Rhys and Dakota had even come to look down on me once. “When you finally learn some grace and forgiveness, when you can actually tolerate Dakota, maybe I’ll consider taking you back.” Then, the System reappeared. I swore I would never endure that kind of humiliation and pain again. I smiled, my voice slow and steady. “Because…” (Because I don’t love you.) “Because this was an accident. It wasn’t your true intention.” I had finally mastered the “tolerance and grace” he demanded. Rhys watched me in silence for a few seconds, then let out a visible sigh of relief. On the bed, Dakota, covered in hickey marks, impatiently threw a pillow at Rhys. “Rhys Easton, your technique is awful. You hurt me, and then you wouldn’t stop when I asked. Annoying.” She waved him away. “Now get out. Stop with the nauseating couple act. Trying to make me feel bad for being single, asshole?” On the drive back, Rhys kept glancing at me. Once I was buckled in, he spoke, his voice low. “Avery, you’ve changed. A lot.” I was scrolling through my phone, comparing prices on bespoke high-end jewelry, and didn’t look up. “I love you, of course I’m going to change for you,” I cooed, flashing the phone screen at him. “It’s my birthday, remember? I want this necklace. Can you get it for me?” I had chosen the most expensive piece with the highest collector’s value. Rhys was the sole heir to an immense fortune. He was never stingy, but he was completely devoid of romance. He usually only bought me ridiculously priced things after I had a jealous fit about him and Dakota. It was guilt money. Pure and simple. Rhys hadn’t answered when Dakota suddenly called. 2 “Get your ass back here now! That… stuff you left on me leaked all over the floor and I slipped and can’t get up.” Dakota’s voice was loud, even though he wasn’t on speaker. She seemed to want me to hear. “Are you trying to murder me so your girlfriend can take my place? Hurry up, or I’m cutting you out of my life, you ungrateful jerk!” This was the same old routine. In the past, no matter how much I’d begged or pleaded, Rhys would have left, probably accusing me of being dramatic and manipulative. But now, I smiled sweetly at him. “Go ahead. I can grab an Uber or the subway home.” He froze, his thin lips pressed into a line. Then, astonishingly, he spoke into the phone. “Can’t you handle it yourself? I’m going home with Avery. It’s her birthday.” I was genuinely taken aback, but I immediately suppressed the flicker of warmth I felt. Don’t be a fool. Don’t be sentimental. I didn’t hear what Dakota said next, but Rhys eventually pulled the car over and asked me to get out. He looked genuinely guilty. “I’ll get you the necklace, I promise. I just need to check on her first. I’ll come back tonight, and we’ll celebrate.” But by the time evening rolled around, Rhys was—as usual—missing in action. The promised necklace? It was already on Dakota’s neck, judging by the triumphant posts on her social media account. I wasn’t upset. Every single item Rhys promised me, I could take with me when I left. “Host, are you sure you want to leave this world? The male lead’s love index is at ninety percent, you know. His family is so rich. If you stay and marry him, you’ll escape your old, miserable life.” I shrugged internally. “That’s still a ten percent failure rate, and I’m not interested in eating lukewarm leftovers. Who cares about the scraps?” He’d been at one-hundred percent love before, but he’d still dropped ten points for Dakota. He could lose it all again just as easily. Love, in the end, was too brittle. Money was hard, cold, and solid. At ten p.m., Rhys finally called, saying Dakota had thrown me a surprise birthday party. When I arrived, they were playing Truth or Dare. Dakota was holding up a deck of cards, a look of gleeful malice on her face. “Whoever pulls an Ace gets the grand prize: ten seconds of kissing me! Don’t be shy, boys. A kiss from me is worth more than gold.” Rhys turned his card. It was the Ace of Spades. The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Everyone immediately looked at me. I walked over to Rhys, sat down calmly beside him, and pulled out my phone. “Go for it,” I said cheerfully. “I’ll record it. It’ll be a great memory for you two to look back on when you’re old.” No screaming. No table-flipping. No cursing. My expression was perfectly serene. Rhys’s face darkened. The next second, Dakota hooked her arms around his neck. “Avery gave the green light, so what, are you a coward now? You were manhandling me all night last night, and now you can’t kiss your sister-figure? Is that what I taught you?” She shoved him away in fake annoyance. “Whatever. If you’re not willing, I’ll find someone else to sub in.” She reached for the guy next to her, but Rhys yanked her back, hard. They started kissing. It was a vicious, competitive exchange, lasting far longer than the ten seconds. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, the surrounding crowd started cheering, elbowing me in the arm. “Attagirl, Avery. You’re finally being chill about this. You’re smart. Since you’re so understanding, we’ll start inviting you out with the guys.” I was finally accepted by Rhys’s inner circle. How wonderfully ironic, just when I stopped caring about him entirely. Rhys wasn’t kissing with any real passion. Every few seconds, his eyes darted to me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, so I just gave him a thumbs-up, signaling that he was doing a great job. Rhys’s face turned glacial. He abruptly shoved Dakota away, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out into the hallway. “Why don’t you get jealous?” 3 I paused, then laughed lightly. “You’re siblings, aren’t you? Isn’t kissing your sibling normal?” I had thrown his own words, the very words he’d used to wound me, right back in his face. Rhys’s expression was an ugly mask of displeasure. “This new you… I can’t read you at all. Just stop hiding what you’re thinking, okay?” “I’m not hiding anything. What’s wrong with you?” I countered. His voice rose in frustration. “It’s your attitude! The way you’re acting! It just… makes me uncomfortable.” I feigned confusion. “What attitude do you want? Do you want me to grab Dakota’s hair and slap her until—” My sentence was cut short by his sudden roar of anger. “Do you have to be a crazy bitch who only knows how to hit people? Try touching her again, I dare you!” I stared at him, saying nothing. Rhys couldn’t articulate why he was so enraged. In the midst of the stalemate, Dakota ran out, wrapped her arms around Rhys’s elbow, and playfully punched him on the arm. “What are you two fighting about this time? Don’t bully Avery. You know she’s sensitive. Come on, be a man, take a page from my book.” She winked at me. “I never bother with little people or women. Let’s go cut the cake.” Rhys’s friends, though morally questionable, were generous when it came to appearances. I walked away from that party with nearly a million dollars in gifts. “Avery, I didn’t get you a gift, but I’ll give you a demo of the new moves I taught Rhys in bed last night. His old ones are boring as hell. And he kept calling me ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’—so tacky. Really—” Dakota’s bragging was interrupted by the sound of Rhys slamming his phone against the wall. “Enough! Why are you talking about this?” Dakota rolled her eyes. “I can talk about whatever I want! You were willing to do it, but you’re too scared to let me talk about it? Why? Was it not you calling me ‘baby’?” She sat down intimately next to me and took my hand. The necklace around her throat slipped out of her shirt—the one Rhys had promised me. I stared at it, a fraction of a second too long. Dakota noticed. “This necklace is eighty million dollars. They called it ‘Heart of True Love’—such a cheesy name. But hey, the ungrateful son bought it for me, so I’ll take it.” Rhys looked sick. Instinctively, I reached out. Rhys’s expression snapped into horror, and he roughly yanked my wrist away, shoving me aside. “Are you trying to hurt Dakota again? When are you going to get rid of this toxic need to attack her?” My head slammed against the edge of the low table. I felt the warm flow of blood instantly. “You…” Rhys stammered, his mouth open. It hurt, sure. But it was nothing new. Rhys had let me suffer plenty of small, stinging wounds for Dakota’s sake. The difference was that this time, the wound in my heart was already gone. I stood up calmly, walked over to Dakota, and plucked a stray strand of hair off the surface of the diamond necklace. “It’s a beautiful piece.” A snagged hair could easily pull a diamond out of its setting, devaluing it considerably. The room was silent. I looked at Rhys, perfectly composed. “I’m going to the ER to get stitched up. You should stay here and keep the party going.” Rhys followed me out. He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes full of anguish. “I’m sorry, I just had a knee-jerk reaction. Let me come with you to the doct—” “Rhys! Get back here! Dakota just passed out!” Rhys looked back and forth, torn. As his perfect, understanding girlfriend, I had to be empathetic. “Go back. She looks worse than I do.” His guilt deepened. “I… I’ll go back, then. I was wrong. I’ll make it up to you. Send me everything you want—I’ll buy you all of it!” The ATM had spoken. There was no way I was going to refuse. I was ruthless, selecting close to half a billion dollars in high-end assets. Perhaps due to extreme guilt, Rhys authorized the transfers without batting an eye. “Avery, I did a lot of thinking yesterday. I think it’s time we got married. Next week, maybe.” I paused mid-scroll, looking up at him with a playful smile. “Sounds great. What kind of prenup and settlement are we talking about?” Rhys frowned slightly. “I don’t really know about the specifics, but I promise I’ll make you the happiest bride in the entire City.” 4 I thought Rhys was just placating me with a fleeting promise, and I was only in it for the collateral. But he actually started planning the wedding. When his assistant came over to present the list of assets to be put in my name, it took half an hour just to read through it. “Mrs. Easton, the boss is so good to you. A royal princess wouldn’t receive half this much.” I just smiled, asking the System in my mind. “Anything designated for me, I can take, correct?” “Yes, Host. Also, I must inform you that the male lead’s love index has increased by five points.” “Oh.” And what of it? On the day of the wedding, I was debating whether to simply dematerialize in front of him just to watch him panic. Rhys burst into the room, his expression frantic. He walked straight up to me, eyes red-rimmed, and couldn’t speak. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked the System. “Dakota Riley staged a fake kidnapping because she’s pregnant and doesn’t want him to marry you. Also, she’s arranged for the fake kidnappers to target you next.” “Do I leave now? One less headache.” A headache? Not quite. “What happened?” I asked gently, taking Rhys’s trembling hand. He gasped for breath, his voice raw. “Dakota was kidnapped, Avery. I… I might have to postpone the wedding.” “It’s okay. Go. You have to find Dakota. A life is more important than a wedding.” Rhys hugged me tightly, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you, Avery. When I get her back, I’ll make it up to you. I swear.” After he left, the wedding was canceled. On my way back to the apartment, I was ambushed and knocked unconscious. When I woke, I was tied up next to Dakota. One of the kidnappers held a knife, tracing the blade along Dakota’s throat, then mine. He looked at Rhys, who had arrived with a briefcase. “You have ten million dollars. It can only save one person. Your sister-figure, or your future wife?” Rhys clenched his fist, his eyes bloodshot. Before he could speak, Dakota cried out, hysterical. “Rhys! I’m pregnant! It’s your baby! Are you going to let both of us die?” “You’re pregnant?” Rhys sounded stunned. Dakota nodded desperately. “Rhys, my stomach hurts so badly! Save our child!” When he looked back at me, his eyes were full of tortured anguish. “I’m sorry, Avery. Dakota is in pain, I have to take her to the hospital first. But I will come back for you, I promise.” I burst into a desperate performance of tears and screams, struggling until the ropes cut into my wrists. “Rhys! I don’t want to die! I’m your fiancée! How can you leave me here to die?” Despite my tearful pleas, Rhys was silent. He lowered his head, trembling, and handed the ten million to the kidnappers. He picked up Dakota and looked back at me. “I’ll compensate you, Avery. Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” His choice was solid, immutable. The person who mattered most to him was, and always would be, Dakota Riley. I offered a small, terrible smile, my eyes wide with manufactured despair. “I want your company. Do you still promise?” “I’ve already decided you’re my wife. You can have the company. Everything I have is yours. Just this once, Avery, please. Just this once. I promise I’ll be back for you. Wait for me!” He turned and walked away without looking back. I let the tears vanish from my face, replacing the anguish with a strange, cold indifference. “Rhys Easton, I don’t want you anymore.” His figure paused momentarily before disappearing from sight. “System, activate de-linking.” I was finally going home.

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Lying in a hospital bed, covered in blood after the car accident, I listened to my father grumble. “Useless… just a money pit… we don’t have the cash for this…” Then, his tone shifted instantly as he picked up his phone. “Attaboy, champ! Top of your class in that video game? Dad’s coming home right now to celebrate!” When he left me alone in the hospital, I wasn’t even surprised. I almost laughed at myself for the flicker of hope I’d felt when I first saw him, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was actually worried about me. The doctors and nurses looked at me with a mix of anger on my behalf and pity. But I didn’t feel helpless or sad. I was just trying to figure out how to convince them to give me more pain meds and start the surgery, because everything hurt. That’s when a couple who looked like they stepped out of a magazine walked in, led by the hospital director. They said I was their daughter, switched at birth. Compared to their emotional tears and excitement, I was calm. I only asked two questions. “Will you pay for my surgery?” “Will you pay for my college tuition?” When they said yes, I looked them in the eye and said, “Mom. Dad.” It didn’t matter if they truly loved me. I didn’t ask what would happen to the girl who took my place. My Grandpa Zhou, before he passed, told me that in this life, the only person you can rely on is yourself. That’s the only way to be unbeatable. So, my plan was simple: live well. And use them as a stepping stone to get where I needed to go. Chapter 1 The surgery went smoothly. I was transferred to a VIP suite for recovery. Those few days were the most comfortable and peaceful I could remember. It was in that luxury room that I learned my biological father was Elias Thorne, CEO of the multi-billion dollar Thorne Enterprises. My mother was Evelyn Reed, the heiress to the Reed Electronics empire. Turns out, two months ago, when I was working a temp job as a greeter at a Thorne Enterprises gala, I was actually working for my own family. What was the theme of that party again? Oh right. It was the extravagant 18th birthday celebration for Thorne Enterprises’ only daughter. It was so grand that every business and entertainment news outlet in the city was covering it. As an outdoor greeter, I wasn’t even allowed inside. I stood shivering in the early spring wind. Since Grandpa Zhou died, no one remembered my birthday, let alone celebrated it. Through a crack in the door, I caught glimpses of the ballroom—the expensive clothes, the champagne toasts, a room full of love and celebration. At the time, I remember thinking about the difference between her life and mine. She was a princess, bathed in love and attention. I was like a sewer rat, stealing glances at a happiness that wasn’t mine. It was worlds apart. That day was also my 18th birthday. No one noticed. When I got home that night, I was greeted with: “Where the hell have you been messing around? Don’t you know you need to come home and cook?” “Your brother has high school entrance exams coming up. What if he goes hungry?” “Useless thing. We should have given you away when you were born. Would have saved us money.” Listening to them, I sneered internally. They wouldn’t have given me away. When I was born, our old neighborhood was being redeveloped. They needed an extra headcount to get a bigger compensation apartment, so they registered my birth. If Grandpa hadn’t insisted, my name wouldn’t be Chloe Zhou. It would have been something like “Chasing-A-Son.” But I didn’t argue. If I did, they’d just get angrier, and my adoptive father would hit me. I learned long ago that silence was survival. Keep your head down, do the work, and it will pass. My only hope back then was college. To get as far away from them as possible. Knock, knock. A gentle tap on the door. My biological parents walked in, followed by a tall, handsome young man in a sharp suit. “Chloe, this is your brother. We all came to take you home.” Just as I guessed, this was the Thorne Enterprises’ crown prince, Liam Thorne. I’d heard rumors that he absolutely spoiled his only sister. If she wanted the moon, he’d try to lasso it for her. Of course, that sister wasn’t me. He walked over with large strides, looking a bit stiff and awkward. His voice was gentle but forced. “Chloe, I’m your brother.” I looked up, gave a small smile, and softly said, “Liam.” When I used to get bullied at school, I’d see other kids’ big brothers protecting them. I used to wish I had a brother like that. Liam seemed to relax a bit when I said his name. “Mom, Dad, and I talked about it. We think it’s best if we go visit your adoptive parents.” “We investigated what happened back then. It was an accident.” “They did raise you for eighteen years, after all. And about Sarah… she’s still abroad…” I watched them. Their faces were full of guilt, but their eyes dodged mine. There was love there, too. Testing the waters of that love, I tentatively said, “They didn’t treat me well…” “Chloe,” Liam interrupted before I could finish. “We checked. Your adoptive family isn’t exactly living in poverty. They raised you for eighteen years. You should be grateful.” I saw my new parents in the background, looking slightly uncomfortable with his words, but they didn’t stop him. I stayed silent. So, the love in their eyes wasn’t just for me. It was also for the daughter they had loved for eighteen years. He assumed I was being ungrateful and money-hungry based on half a sentence. Fine. “Okay. Let’s go then.” Chapter 2 To their surprise, I got out of bed, supporting my arm which was still in a sling. “I’m ready.” If their love wasn’t unconditional, then I would use their guilt to fill the gap. We arrived at the Zhou house around lunchtime. I used my key to open the door and went in first. The three of them were stuffing their faces with meat and fish. They froze when they saw me, then went right back to eating as if nothing happened. “Good, you’re back. Go wash the clothes in the bathroom.” “Mom, I told you she had a secret stash of money. Look, we didn’t give her a dime for the hospital, and she got out just fine.” “Damn girl, always out of the house. Who knows what dirty ways she earned that money.” I stood there, putting a look of pure terror on my face, shrinking back as if afraid. My adoptive father’s face darkened when he saw me not moving. “What are you standing there for? Didn’t you hear your mother tell you to wash clothes?” I whimpered, lifting my injured arm slightly. “I… I just got out of the hospital. My arm isn’t healed. I can’t hand-wash them. Can I use the machine?” My adoptive mother’s shrill voice cut in immediately. “Does the machine run for free? Don’t you have another hand?” “I…” Seeing me about to argue, my adoptive father’s temper flared. He slammed his empty bowl onto the table and walked toward me, while my adoptive mother and brother, Tyler Zhou, watched with glee. He raised his hand to strike. I immediately dropped to a crouch, covering my head with my good arm, babbling. “I was wrong, I was wrong, I shouldn’t have talked back.” “I won’t do it again, Dad, don’t hit me, please don’t hit me. I’ll go wash the clothes right now. By hand.” As expected, the slap never landed. My new brother, Liam, rushed in and grabbed my adoptive father’s arm, shoving him aside. My new parents carefully helped me up, their eyes full of pain and guilt. Seeing the intruders, my adoptive mother jumped up to support her husband. She screeched, “Who are you people?” Then she saw them comforting me and realized what was happening. She turned her venom on me. “You little bitch! Bringing outsiders home to bully your parents, huh?” “Raising you was useless. Should’ve drowned you in the river when you were born.” She continued with a stream of vile insults: money pit, slut, uneducated trash. I always wondered why they treated their son like a prince and their daughter like garbage, even before they knew I wasn’t theirs. Especially my mother. She was a woman, too. How could she become the executioner of a younger version of herself? I used to think she was just trapped by old-fashioned thinking. Later, I realized she was just mean-spirited and narrow-minded. She wanted her daughter to suffer the same hardships she had endured. In fact, she wanted me to suffer double. When I was little, I would bring home good grades and awards, craving her love and praise. All I got was being ignored or mocked. Growing up, the nastiest things I ever heard came from her mouth first. I was immune to it now. I could ignore the abuse and just do what I needed to do. But my biological parents looked horrified. Liam’s fists were clenched in rage. Perfect. The effect was even better than I anticipated. I didn’t need to do anything else. I just had to act scared. It felt nice to have family protecting me. I used to crave this feeling. Now? It was take it or leave it. It wasn’t a necessity for my survival anymore. Besides, this “love” was calculated. I knew it wouldn’t belong solely to me in the future. There was still a Sarah Thorne, the daughter they’d cherished for eighteen years. When they announced I wasn’t their biological daughter, my adoptive mother started making a scene. My adoptive father, however, sized up my new parents and immediately started negotiating a price. Liam rubbed my head gently. “Go with Mom and pack your things.” “Leave this to me and Dad.” I nodded timidly and went to my room, my new mother looking at me with pity. Chapter 3 My “room” was a converted utility closet. It held a pile of junk on one side, and my cot, an old wardrobe, and a small desk on the other. I saw my mother’s eyes turn red, but I pretended not to notice and started packing. When she saw me stuffing faded jeans and a worn-out jacket into a broken suitcase, she couldn’t take it anymore. She walked over and threw everything onto the tiny cot. Her voice was choked with emotion. “Chloe, no. Don’t take these. Mom will buy you new ones.” I looked up, confused. “But these aren’t torn yet. I can still wear them.” My mother’s lips trembled, and she couldn’t speak. She pulled me into a hug, her tears wetting my shoulder. My shirt was damp, so I changed into a sports bra. I heard another gasp from behind me. “Chloe… what are these?” My mother pointed to the burn scars on my back and arms. Before I could speak, the door opened. My father and Liam stood there, staring at the scars. The silence in the room was heavy. My adoptive father pushed his way in after them, impatient. “What’s taking so long? Hurry up and pack so we can get paid.” Then he saw my scars, paused for a second, and got angry. “You damn girl, what are you looking at? Didn’t you do that to yourself?” He reached out to grab me. I flinched slightly and stammered, “Y-yes. I… I was clumsy. I did it myself.” Liam shoved my adoptive father out of the room, furious. “You want money? Then behave yourself! Don’t you dare yell at my sister.” My father’s eyes were red too. “Chloe has suffered so much.” I shook my head and didn’t say anything. In the car on the way to their estate, I thought about how well things were going. With my biological parents’ help, I was finally free of that rotten family. They mistook my silent contemplation for shock or trauma. “Chloe, it’s our fault. We shouldn’t have taken you back there.” “It’s our fault. If we had found you sooner, you wouldn’t have suffered so much.” “Chloe, don’t worry. Your brother will make them pay.” “From now on, Mom and Dad are here. No one will dare bully you again.” Looking at the raw guilt and love in their red eyes, it was impossible not to feel something. But it was just a little bit. I could take my own revenge later. The suffering? It was in the past. The car stopped. We were at the Thorne Estate, a place I had only ever heard whispered about at parties. It was the first time I truly understood the extreme gap in wealth in this world. I lowered my eyes. I felt a flicker of desire. I was an heir to this immense wealth and power now, too. “Mr. and Mrs. Thorne, you’re back.” The butler led the staff out to greet us. He looked at me, standing in the center of the group, and hesitated. “This is the second daughter. Take good care of her from now on.” My father spoke as he led me inside. The staff all bowed and said yes. As soon as I entered the grand foyer, I looked up and saw the girl standing by the staircase. The girl who had lived my life for eighteen years. Chapter 4 She was beautiful. Exquisite and expensive-looking, nourished by money and power. Right now, she looked like a broken porcelain doll. Her eyes were red and swollen. The moment she saw us, tears started falling like large pearls. So pitiful. So endearing. Her voice trembled as she pointed at me. “Mom, Dad, Liam… are the rumors true? Are you replacing me with her?” My father frowned and scolded her. “Sarah, watch your manners. This is your sister’s home. Of course she’s coming back.” Sarah looked terrified. “Dad, you’re yelling at me?” She turned and ran up the stairs, crying out, “Fine! Since I’m not your real daughter, I’ll leave right now! I won’t be an eyesore to you!” My father opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He sighed and went to his study. Liam looked at me apologetically. “Sarah’s been spoiled. Don’t mind her, Chloe. I’ll go check on her.” He hurried up the stairs to comfort Sarah. Looking at my mother, who kept anxiously glancing upstairs, I sensibly said, “Mom, you should go comfort my sister too.” My mother paused. “Chloe, you’re such a good girl. I’ll just go see her for a minute. I’ll be right back.” She gave me a quick hug and went upstairs to console Sarah. The family that had just been fussing over me was instantly revolving around the other girl. I was left standing alone in the grand hall. As expected of the princess they had cherished for eighteen years. Their bond was deep. They couldn’t just let her go. I understood. I lowered my head. Did I care? If I didn’t get my hopes up, I wouldn’t be disappointed, right? But it still stung. The butler stepped forward. “Second Miss, your room is this way. I’ll show you.” “Thank you.” My mother, who said she’d be “right back,” didn’t show up for the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t have time to dwell on family drama. I couldn’t pin my future on these people. So at dinner, when it was just me and my father at the table, I ate quietly and didn’t make a fuss. After dinner, I spoke up. “Dad, could I get a tutor? The college entrance exams are in a month.” “I’m afraid I won’t adjust well going back to a regular school right now. Can I study at home?” My father was momentarily stunned, then nodded. “Just tell Butler Lee. He’ll arrange it.” “If you need anything else, just ask. If I’m not here, tell Butler Lee.” I gave a shy smile. “Thank you, Dad.” My father let out a breath of relief at my obedience. He hesitantly patted my shoulder and went to his study. A maid helped me get ready for bed. Just as I was about to lie down, there was a knock on the door. It was my mother. “Chloe, Sarah has a bit of a temper. Please try to be understanding.” “You just got here. Do you want to take a walk outside with me? Get familiar with the place?” I nodded, still in my pajamas, and went out with her. Sarah was standing by the stairs again. Her eyes were still red, but I clearly saw the smugness and challenge in her gaze. I nodded and smiled at her. “Sister, you’re up too?” My mother turned. “What are you doing out of bed? Go back to sleep. Your eyes are swollen like walnuts.” Sarah quickly adjusted her expression, gave a sweet smile, and went back to her room. A gentle evening breeze blew, bringing a cool relief. The estate grounds were beautiful. “Chloe, Mom wants to discuss something with you.”

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I was taking a breather on a cruise ship in international waters when I stumbled upon my stepsister surrounded at a poker table. Her two childhood friends stood opposite her, flanking a delicate-looking girl, sneers playing on their lips: “What’s wrong, Miss Vance? Can’t afford to call? Weren’t you tough before? Daring to ask Chloe for three million for a scarf?” “Folding is fine too. Just sign over your 15% of the Vance family shares to Chloe tomorrow.” My sister’s knuckles were white, her eyes rimmed with red. Someone laughed and loosened his tie: “No money, little girl? How about this, take off a piece of clothing, and I’ll give you five hundred in chips.” Whistles erupted around us. “Strip naked, and all my chips are yours.” I stood in the shadows of the high balcony, slowly turning the ring on my pinky finger. Not showing my face for a few years, these trash must have forgotten that although my sister took her father’s surname, she is still a Sterling. Touch a Sterling girl, and you pay with your life. …… The special assistant beside me held his breath, whispering carefully: “I’ll call the cruise manager right away and have him apologize to you.” I looked down at the poker table, my voice icy: “No rush. Let’s see what tricks they’re playing.” Those who dare to touch my people under my nose, no one on this ship will have a good end. Chapter 1 Liam Carter looked at my sister, who was surrounded by men, with a sneer on his lips: “Luna, why are you scared to strip? I have your private photos here. Why don’t I sell a set and add to your bet?” Before he finished speaking, he tossed a USB drive to a staff member. The next second, the big screen lit up. High-definition photos of my sister in compromising states were projected for all to see, igniting imaginations. “The eldest Miss Vance, usually acting so high and mighty. Who knew she had such a body underneath!” “Just seeing this makes me hard. If she strips, I might die on top of her.” Filthy language continued as Noah Reed threw another USB drive, laughing sinisterly: “I have more here. If you don’t dare to strip for chips, I’ll help you. Adding another bet for you!” The crowd roared in approval, the atmosphere heating up instantly. “The two young masters are generous! Giving us such a feast for the eyes!” My sister trembled all over, tears streaming down her face: “We grew up together… how dare you treat me like this?” “Now you know how to cry? Where was this pitiful act when you forced Chloe to pay for your scarf?” “We’re kind enough to help you raise money, why are you so ungrateful?” My sister retorted urgently, “She ruined the scarf on purpose! That was a gift from my sister…” Hearing this, the girl named Chloe, sandwiched between the two men, suddenly knelt down with a thud, tears streaming: “Sister, I know I was wrong. I’ve even bet myself. I beg you, please have mercy and stop following the bet!” Liam slammed the table and stood up: “Luna, relying on your money, will you only be satisfied when you drive Chloe to death?” Noah pulled Chloe up from the floor and held her in his arms, saying sternly: “Since you dare to bully Chloe right in front of us, don’t blame us for being ruthless!” Chloe comforted softly, “Don’t blame Luna. Blame me for upsetting her.” She turned to my sister, eyes flashing with calculation, “Luna has no money left. I heard she works eight jobs a day just to eat. If she doesn’t follow this hand, I’ll stop here.” I laughed in anger. Looking at the chips on the table, my sister had bet her entire fortune, even the shares our grandfather gave her privately. If she stops now, she will have nothing and carry a huge debt. I stared at Chloe. She was wearing the custom dress I had made for my sister, the Patek Philippe watch I gave my sister on her wrist, and even the emerald necklace our mother left for my sister around her neck. And my own sister was wearing old clothes washed white, with patches on her pants. When did my sister, a Sterling, fall to this state? My sister bit her lower lip hard, tears winding down her pale face, looking like she would collapse any moment. It seemed what Chloe said was true. “Investigate!” I ordered sternly. The special assistant understood immediately and left. I had been expanding the market abroad for the past few years and rarely went home. But I contacted my sister monthly. Why was there no sign of anything wrong? My sister suddenly looked up, her voice broken: “Why? We were childhood friends. How could you use candid photos of me as chips?” Liam played with the chips, sneering: “If you don’t want to exchange, admit defeat. Give all these to Chloe as an apology.” Noah didn’t even lift his head: “Cut the crap. Either exchange or go over there for a nude loan and strip right here!” Lecherous jeers erupted around them: “Strip, princess!” “How about sleeping with me for a night? I’ll bet for you!” My sister was surrounded, trembling all over. Just when everyone thought she would yield, she suddenly looked up, a desperate light in her eyes: “I’ll continue to follow!” The whole audience was in an uproar. Chapter 2 I was stunned, my fingers unconsciously tapping the railing. I knew my sister’s assets clearly. What was on the table was everything she had. Looking at her thin figure, I felt a pang of heartache. She trembled as she took out her phone, switching between a dozen loan apps. It took a whole hour to barely scrape together a hundred thousand dollars. “That’s it?” Noah sneered, slamming his glass down. “Chloe makes more than that in one spa treatment.” Chloe covered her mouth and chuckled: “Luna, admit defeat. I’ll be merciful and let you go.” Liam pushed his chips to the center of the table: “Call, and double it!” My sister’s face turned instantly pale. “Seeing how short of money you are, let me help you again…” Noah suddenly pressed a remote control, and the big screen lit up. It was an AI deepfake video with my sister’s face! The actions were bold, the voice coquettish, just as if my sister had filmed it herself. “That voice is amazing, so soulful. I’m hard instantly.” “Worthy of a rich girl, she’s got flavor in bed!” “I’ll pay two million for the full set!” My sister stood up abruptly. She trembled all over, looking at her two former childhood friends in disbelief. But they only had eyes for Chloe, gently draping a coat over her shoulders. “Turn it off! Turn it off immediately!” she screamed hoarsely. But the frenzied bidding drowned her out completely. A waiter bowed and handed over a tablet: “Miss Vance, do you want to sell the video rights?” “Otherwise, you either continue to follow or admit defeat!” My sister’s face was ashen. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry, “I… I really have nothing left…” The men around her had greedy lights in their eyes, like a pack of hungry wolves staring at dying prey, ready to swarm the moment she admitted defeat. My knuckles turned white as I clenched my fists, about to stand up. But then I saw my sister trembling as she took a dusty gray stone out of her worn pocket and carefully placed it on the waiter’s tray: “Use this for chips…” Laughter exploded instantly. Chloe laughed so hard she trembled: “Oh my god! Is Luna crazy from poverty? Trying to exchange a random stone for chips?” The waiter respectfully took the stone away. In less than three minutes, he returned pushing neat stacks of five million in chips to the table. “Miss Vance, your chips.” The hall fell dead silent instantly. Chloe’s expression could no longer be maintained: “That broken stone is worth five million?!” Liam stood up abruptly: “Are you kidding?!” Noah overturned his chair: “Call the appraiser!” Chapter 3 I narrowed my eyes, tapping the armrest lightly. That stone was no ordinary stone. That was my Sterling family’s private seal. One seal could mobilize one hundred million in funds. If not driven to desperation, my sister would never have taken it out. But these idiots only exchanged it for five million? The cruise owner knelt trembling before me, sweat dripping onto the carpet, daring not wipe it. Downstairs was already in an uproar. “Upon appraisal, this is the private seal of the Sterling family from the Capital, valued at one hundred million,” the manager’s voice trembled. “Currently discounted to five million.” “The Sterling family?” Someone gasped. “Those few have a death wish daring to offend the Sterlings?” Hearing “Sterling family,” Chloe suddenly reddened her eyes: “Grandpa Sterling has been seriously ill for a long time. Dad gave me all the family assets…” She turned to my sister, “Luna, I even sold a kidney. I really have no money left. We’re sisters, why must we fight? Letting others laugh at us.” The wine glass in my hand shattered. “Sisters?” My special assistant whispered, “Chloe is the illegitimate daughter Mr. Vance acknowledged half a year ago. Even did a DNA test. He dotes on her the most.” Good, very good. Arthur Vance, you’ve done well. Just because I haven’t been home for a few years, you dare to pull this behind my back. Guess I wasn’t ruthless enough before. I’ll settle accounts with him when I get back. The priority now is to solve my sister’s problem. Liam looked furious, “Luna, since you are so vicious, don’t blame us for being cruel.” “Call! Five million!” Liam slammed the table, only to be told he had insufficient chips. He and Noah exchanged a glance, gritting their teeth to bet their family shares. “Double!” They pushed the chips to Chloe. “Let’s see what you call with!” Chloe smiled triumphantly, mouthing silently to my sister: You’re finished. My sister trembled, her bloodless face filled with despair. Double the chips meant ten million. Once placed, it cut off all her retreats. If she folded, everything on the table would belong to Chloe, and she wouldn’t even be able to leave this cruise ship. But to continue betting, she couldn’t produce any more chips. Someone shamelessly reached out to my sister, “Little beauty, sell the photos and videos, and you’ll have chips, won’t you?” “Shameless!” My sister slapped the man. “Bitch!” The man sneered. “You’ll be begging soon enough!” Noah played with chips, smiling cruelly: “Want to call? Bet double again.” Chloe finally tore off her innocent mask, eyes flashing with malice: “Sell your body, Luna. Your body… is still worth something.” A dozen men surrounded her, their gazes slimy like venomous snakes, rubbing their palms and shouting, “Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip!” “I’ll sign a donation agreement.” My sister’s voice was soft, but it exploded like thunder. The whole venue was in an uproar. “Crazy?” “This girl is ruthless! Doesn’t even want her life!” “Is her body worth twenty million?” Chloe shrieked with laughter: “Luna, what are you thinking? Even if you sell your whole body in parts, it’s not worth twenty million!” Before she could finish, a waiter slowly walked over pushing twenty million in chips. The hall was in chaos, everyone dissatisfied. “Rigged!” “I’m strong and healthy, and only got five hundred thousand! How is she worth twenty million?” “If you don’t give an explanation today, we’ll smash this broken ship!” Chapter 4 “Everyone, please calm down.” The manager raised his hand to suppress the commotion. The big screen suddenly lit up, displaying my sister’s medical report! My pupils contracted sharply. My sister was born with rare Rh-null blood, known as “Golden Blood.” This blood type is extremely rare in the world, almost impossible to find. Wealthy families offer sky-high prices to find this blood type but still come up empty. From the moment my sister was born, her medical report was classified as top secret. I guarded this secret carefully, fearing that leaking it would bring her unnecessary trouble. However, now these people have pushed her to such a desperate situation. It’s simply too much! Especially the Carter and Reed families. Considering they grew up with my sister, I treated their families with some favor. But now, for that woman of unknown origin, they openly bullied my sister! “Chloe, don’t panic!” Liam’s face was dark as he comforted Chloe. “Don’t be afraid, this is her last stand. We’ll make her lose everything then to vent your anger!” Noah also comforted. Both frowned and began desperately pooling money. Mortgaging antiques, real estate, looking everywhere for loan sharks. But to win against my sister, they needed forty million. I watched them struggle calmly. They gritted their teeth. Not only did they make Chloe sign a donation agreement, but they also signed agreements themselves, managing to scrape together sixty million. “We bet it all!” The two men stared viciously at my sister. These two really have malicious intentions. Not only do they want to wipe my sister clean, but they also want to consume the Vance family and dig a piece of flesh from my Sterling family. I didn’t expect the dogs I raised for my sister back then would bite today! My sister’s eyes had lost hope. She hesitated and opened her mouth several times, finally asking her two childhood friends for help. “Liam, Noah, for the sake of us growing up together, please let me go…” Her voice carried a sob. The two men were slightly moved, subconsciously wanting to reach out to help her. However, Chloe beat them to it. While slapping herself hard, she knelt down to apologize to my sister: “Sister, all the mistakes are mine! It’s all because I’m poor and couldn’t afford to pay for that two million dollar scarf. I’ll work like a cow or horse to pay you back later… You can do whatever you want to me, please don’t make it difficult for the two brothers!” The eyes of the two men, who had softened slightly, instantly turned cold. My sister was completely desperate. She didn’t even want to reveal her cards and prepared to leave in a trance. I waved my hand slightly, and my special assistant left silently. However, before my sister could take two steps, she was pinned back to the poker table by bodyguards. “Either call or admit defeat! Otherwise, don’t think about leaving the table!” The surrounding bodyguards were ready, waiting to control my sister as soon as the game ended. At this point, the game had reached a life-or-death moment. Both sides had bet everything. The dealer covered the cards in both hands and sealed the deck. The whole audience held their breath waiting for the reveal. But at this moment, my sister, sitting at the table with a face like dead ashes, suddenly looked up at me on the balcony. She instantly straightened her spine and shouted, “I continue to call, double!” The whole venue fell into dead silence instantly. “Miss Vance,” the waiter’s voice was tight, reminding coldly, “You have nothing left to bet.” A crisp sound of a black card slapping on the table exploded. My sister shouted firmly, “I have money! I continue to call!” Liam and Noah’s faces changed instantly, staring dead at that card. “Luna, where did you get that card? You clearly have nothing on you!” Chloe said with red eyes, “Luna, don’t fool people with a fake card. This isn’t a joke; this really costs lives!” But before she finished speaking, gasps were heard one after another. “How is this possible?” Liam and Noah stood up abruptly, looking at the screen, faces full of disbelief: “How can this be?”

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Liam had always had Skylar. She wasn’t just his lifelong best female friend; she was a permanent, slightly toxic shadow in our lives. From the first moment I met her, I knew the look in her eye: I was the outsider. The resentment was a cold current beneath her saccharine smile. When we planned a trip with his group, his “Crew,” Skylar was in charge of booking the flights. She somehow forgot to book mine. Just mine. She cried, of course, a delicate, teary apology about being “so scatterbrained.” Liam immediately stepped in, his arm around her, telling me, “Babe, she’s just clumsy. Let it go.” At our wedding, she orchestrated a cruel prank. She and the groomsmen—her acolytes—deliberately smeared cake and God knows what else all over my custom ivory dress during the receiving line. “It’s an old tradition!” she giggled, eyes bright. Liam told me to be the bigger person: “Come on, Anya, it’s just The Guys being The Guys. Don’t let it ruin the day.” After we finished decorating our new home—our marital sanctuary—she threw a “housewarming” party with The Crew that turned it into a disaster zone. Broken art, cigarette burns on the new Persian rug, deep-red wine stains on the white sectional. A violation. I finally snapped. I screamed, years of suppressed rage boiling over. Liam looked bored. He tried to physically soothe me. “She literally overturned a table at a friend’s wedding last month, remember? They get carried away. They’re my blood, Anya. Please, just forgive them.” I felt the familiar, weary weight of my swelling abdomen and bit down on the real fury. My baby. Not worth the stress. But the line had to be drawn. “Next time,” I whispered, the threat heavy and final, “I file for divorce.” After Liam delivered a stern warning to her, Skylar finally backed off. Things were quiet. Too quiet. Until our daughter, Poppy’s, first birthday party. Skylar was staring at Poppy with a calculating look, her brow furrowed in mock concern. “Wow, Liam, she’s getting big. But… she really doesn’t look like you at all, does she?” She tilted her head. “Are you sure she’s yours, bro?” The rest of The Crew quickly chimed in with nervous chuckles and agreement. My face went cold, and Liam was furious. He knew this was too far. He practically shoved them out the door. “That’s it,” he hissed at them. “The cheap shots at Anya I can tolerate. But my daughter? If you ever question my daughter again, you’re not my friends anymore.” That same evening, I stumbled upon a trending post on the Thread. [My daughter just turned one. All my buddies say she doesn’t look like me. I’m afraid my wife cheated. What do I do?] 1 [User 1]: Unless you want to spend the rest of your life raising another man’s kid, go get a DNA test. Stop being a coward. The Original Poster replied: [OP]: I’ve thought about it, but if my wife found out I distrusted her, she’d leave me. I don’t want a divorce. The comments were a mix of insults, calling him a spineless cuck, and others defending him. [User 2]: You call them ‘brothers,’ but do you really think they have your best interest at heart? Toxic friends secretly want to drag you down. [OP]: No way. We grew up together. Why are you all so malicious about my friends? My wife says the same things! Then came the helpful suggestion: [User 3]: Dude, sneak a hair or a toothbrush. Get a quick, private test. If it’s yours, no harm done. If it’s not, you’ve got your exit strategy. Poppy had just had her first birthday. Skylar, Liam’s female friend, had just blatantly suggested Poppy wasn’t his. And now, this post. All the details matched. I looked at Liam, sleeping next to me, already muttering in his sleep. A wave of ice-cold anger and sick betrayal washed over me. I unlocked his phone. I searched, frantically, but there was no trace of The Thread. The last chat records with The Crew were from yesterday, innocuous chatter about fantasy football. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t him. The thought calmed the raging fire in my chest to a mere simmer. I put the phone down, praying for the best. The next morning, Liam woke early, as he always did, to gently care for Poppy. He loved her fiercely; there was no doubt. I started to relax, telling myself the post was a horrible coincidence. But when I came out of the kitchen, holding her warm bowl of mashed fruit purees, I saw him. Liam, bent over the crib, gently, stealthily, pulling a strand of hair from Poppy’s head. “What are you doing!” I lunged forward, shoving him back and snatching my daughter into my arms. Liam looked genuinely startled. “Anya? What the hell?” My voice was shaking. “What were you doing with her hair?” He held up his hand, pinched between his thumb and forefinger was a tiny speck. “You mean this?” “I was grabbing a little fly. It was buzzing around her head.” He looked wounded. “Anya, why would you think I was pulling our baby’s hair? Why are you so aggressive?” The shame hit me instantly. I had wrongly accused him, physically attacked him. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I just… I was afraid you’d hurt her.” He dropped the subject, accepting my apology, but his eyes were still hurt. Later, after I’d managed to rock Poppy to sleep, I reopened The Thread. The post had been updated. [OP Update]: Almost got caught pulling a strand of hair this morning. I played it cool and convinced her it was a bug. I don’t think she suspects anything. Help me come up with a better plan. 2 My head exploded. A black curtain dropped over my vision, and I staggered against the wall. It was him. There were too many coincidences, too many agonizing parallels. Every instinct screamed at me to march into the living room, shove the phone in his face, demand the DNA test, and start the divorce. But then I saw a new comment on the thread. [User 4]: I see you’re in the Tri-State area, friend. Where exactly? I have a guy at a private lab who can rush the results. DM me. Don’t raise another man’s kid. The OP replied: [OP]: I’m in Philadelphia. DMing you now. My relief was so profound it was almost painful. I was in New York. The poster was in Philly. I had almost ruined everything, again, based on a poisonous suspicion. Had I confronted Liam, the distrust would have fractured us permanently. Liam had always stressed that trust was the foundation of our relationship. I remembered the college trip. He and The Crew—Skylar included—had secretly planned an island getaway. He’d only told me about it a week before departure, an afterthought. I already resented how much he shared with Skylar that he kept from me. I felt like the girlfriend was the mistress. I went to the airport with him, only to find Skylar hadn’t bought my ticket. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Anya!” she wailed. “I’m just so used to buying six tickets for The Crew, I completely forgot to include you!” I knew it was malicious, not clumsy. My face was cold stone. Liam’s friends started calling me melodramatic and self-centered. Liam tried to smooth things over. “Don’t be mad. She’s just an airhead. I’ll stay back with you.” The Crew immediately turned on him, calling him whipped and a betrayer. He looked trapped, miserable. I forced a calm smile. “Go. I’m fine.” He checked in on me until he boarded. The moment his plane lifted off, I blocked his number, all The Crew’s numbers, and sent him a single text: Have fun with Skylar. He took the red-eye home that night. He was frantic, begging for forgiveness. I refused to see him. Finally, desperate, he attempted suicide—jumping into a freezing-cold river. I only went to the hospital when his mother called me. He explained the island trip was meant to be a surprise for me. “Skylar told me girls love those spontaneous gifts,” he said. He promised to cut all ties with Skylar. “Whatever happens,” he’d cried, clutching me, “you have to trust me, Anya. The lack of trust is worse than dying.” And he had kept his word. For the most part. Until now. I felt a wash of fresh guilt. I had almost destroyed the faith he had worked so hard to rebuild. To make it up to him, I decided to send Poppy to the nanny and take Liam on a spontaneous date. I messaged him and went to the walk-in closet to pick out clothes for both of us. It was while I was rummaging through his socks drawer for a specific brand that my fingers hit something hard underneath. I pulled it out. It was a phone. A burner. One I had never seen before. 3 The screen lock was the same as his main phone. Click. My fingers instinctively went to The Thread. I found the app. I clicked on the familiar user ID. There was the post. My mind didn’t just buzz; it went silent. The tears started before the shock registered. I choked them back and clicked on the private messages. There it was. The chat with the “Tri-State” user. [OP]: Actually, man, I’m in New York. My ex-wife is in Philadelphia, so I assumed I was close. How fast can you get a rush job done? I’m thinking of bringing in a toothbrush this afternoon. The air rushed out of my lungs. New York. Our city. The Philadelphia comment was just a decoy. A smokescreen for an anonymous forum. I closed the app, the rage returning, but this time, it was icy. I started to dig, to peel back the layers of our life. The hidden phone held so much more. In his secondary messaging app, there was a group chat with The Crew, prominently titled: The Skylar Faithful. Skylar’s frantic messages: Liam, I swear I didn’t mean to say that in front of Anya! You have to tell her I didn’t mean it! She already hates me. Now she’ll think I’m trying to break you two up! The Crew chimed in, defending her. Liam was silent for hours. Then Skylar: But Liam, you know I’m only saying it because I love you, bro. She genuinely doesn’t look like you. I’m just looking out for you, man. I’d hate for you to be a cuck and raise a kid that’s not yours. Liam’s only reply: Shut up. But then, he’d posted to The Thread. Scrolling up, I saw photos of him at bars, women draped over him. All the times he said he was “working late” or “on a sales trip.” He was out playing around with Skylar and The Crew. I let out a single, hysterical laugh. It was a joke. Our marriage was a sick, pathetic joke. I checked his other social media app. Skylar was constantly sending him “suggestive” videos. Skylar: Look at this body, bro. Much hotter than the ice queen at home, right? Skylar: I’m giving you the good stuff, man. Why are you still mad at me? His replies were always just ‘Go to hell’ or ‘Knock it off,’ but every single one of those videos was marked ‘Seen.’ The digital evidence felt like a thousand tiny lashes across my face. I sank to the floor, my legs useless. My face was pale, my chest burning. He’d lied about everything. The avoidance. The trust. The distance from Skylar. It was all a performance for the stupid, trusting wife. He and Skylar had never been apart. They had watched me, the idiot, living in blissful ignorance. A wave of nausea hit me. I forced myself up. I heard the nanny’s voice outside. “Mrs. Hayes is in the bedroom.” Click. The door opened. Liam was smiling, walking toward me, his face bright. “Hey, honey! I took the day off. Nanny is with Poppy. Where are we going on our date?” His smile died as his eyes met mine. “Anya? What’s wrong?” He reached out to wipe a tear. I flinched away from his touch, looking at him with naked disgust. I picked up the hidden phone, opened The Thread, and held the screen up to his face. “So,” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Is the DNA test done?” 4 Liam’s face went instantly white. “Anya—what test? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I gave a cold, sharp laugh. “Don’t you? You told your internet friend you’d grab Poppy’s toothbrush this afternoon, Liam. Did you forget?” “I was just… I was having a momentary freak-out! I saw your post, and I got paranoid, so I posted a burner! I never went through with it, I swear!” he babbled, desperate. I ignored his pathetic plea and held out my hand. “Let me see the results, then. Maybe I did cheat. Maybe the baby’s not yours. Wouldn’t that be a shame?” My cold composure terrified him. “Anya, please, you know I would never go through with it. I just needed to vent—” I tossed the phone onto the bed. “Fine. Then let’s go. Right now.” I grabbed Poppy from the crib. “We’re going to the lab. Together. We’ll do a full, legitimate DNA test. Wouldn’t want you to worry yourself sick on an internet forum, would we?” Liam was shaking, his face pasty white. I dragged him toward the garage. “Oh, and you should call your ‘Skylar Faithful’ Crew,” I added, looking back at him. “Let them all come. They’ve earned the right to see whether their friend’s daughter is your seed.” Liam was on the verge of tears. “Anya, please. We don’t have to go. I was wrong. I was stupid. I know I was wrong!” I shoved him into the passenger seat and snatched his main phone. I typed into The Skylar Faithful group chat: DNA Test at the lab in an hour. Come watch. Liam is finally getting peace of mind. Skylar was the first to reply: BRO! FINALLY! Don’t worry, man. The Crew has your back. No woman is worth this trouble! We’re heading there now! When The Crew showed up at the hospital, they froze the moment they saw me holding Poppy. Then Skylar stepped forward, hitting Liam on the shoulder with a triumphant smile. “Good for you, Liam! You finally grew a spine!” She turned to me. “Don’t be mad, Anya. What man wouldn’t want to know the truth? This is for his peace of mind. You understand, right?” “I understand perfectly,” I nodded, my face empty. The nurse led us back. Liam, Poppy, and I all gave blood samples. When the needle pricked my daughter’s tiny vein, she looked at the nurse, confused, then burst into inconsolable tears. The sheer terror in her wail shattered my composure. The cold facade I’d built crumpled. I pulled her into my chest, rocking her, my own tears finally falling. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered. I’m sorry I chose this man to be your father. I’m sorry you have to go through this because of my failure. We waited for hours. Finally, the doctor came out with the report. Skylar snatched it before anyone else could react. She read it quickly, then threw her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with performative shock. “Liam!” she gasped. “It says… it says the baby isn’t yours! Anya cheated on you!” 5 “What the hell are you talking about!” Liam, who had been sitting hunched over in silent misery, jumped to his feet with a roar. He grabbed Skylar by the lapels of her denim jacket. “Say that again, and I swear to God I’ll choke you!” Skylar was genuinely terrified, tears streaming down her face. She held out the report. “Bro, it’s on the paper! Not me! It says the child is Anya’s, but not yours! Why are you screaming at me? She’s the one who cheated!” The rest of The Crew pulled Liam off her, grabbing the report and passing it around. Their faces darkened with a sudden, vindictive solidarity. “It’s true, Liam. She did it! The bitch cheated on you!” Liam wouldn’t believe it. “I already took a test this morning—a quick one with the toothbrush. Poppy is my daughter! You’re trying to set us up!” Ah. So he did lie this morning. A fresh wave of disgust washed over me. Liam grabbed the official report, his eyes scanning every word. When he hit the line stating exclusion of paternity, he swayed. He grabbed the doctor’s arm. “This is wrong! Your lab is wrong! I want a retest!” The doctor frowned, unimpressed. “Sir, this is a state-certified facility. We don’t make mistakes. What lab did you use this morning?” Liam stammered out the name of the lab he’d found on The Thread. The doctor scoffed. “Never heard of it. Probably a private storefront scam. You can do this test a hundred times, and the results will be the same.” The doctor’s certainty hit Liam like a sledgehammer. His eyes turned bloodshot. He seized my shoulders, his grip bruising. “Anya. Tell me. Why? I gave you everything! Didn’t I love you enough? I cut off my friends for you! I was faithful! I almost died for you!” Poppy, startled by the noise, started to cry, reaching for him. “Dada?” He recoiled from her hand as if she were poisonous. “Don’t touch me! You’re dirty!” SLAP! My hand cracked across his cheek. The sound echoed in the sterile hallway. Liam stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief and a new, terrible hatred. “You hit me? After you cheated? You betrayed me! You raised another man’s kid in my home! You have no right, Anya!” He was spiraling. “Who is it? Tell me the name of the bastard you slept with!” I stepped away, taking Poppy further down the hall. “There’s nothing to explain.” I looked back at him, my voice flat. “Let’s file for divorce.”

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My childhood sweetheart went bankrupt and sold me to the city’s notorious “Crown Prince” billionaire to clear his debt. Later, we met again at a business gala. My ex, trying to sound considerate, told the Prince that I was aloof and proud, asking him to “bear with me.” The Prince scoffed coldly. “Bear with her? If I don’t speak, she doesn’t dare say a word.” Everyone praised the Prince for having me so well-trained. The next moment, I pushed open the door. I sat down; he wiped the chair for me. I licked my lips; he handed me tea. I frowned; he draped his jacket over my shoulders. … Everyone: “???” Indeed, I didn’t have to say a single word! The Prince glanced proudly at my ex, whose face had turned black. “Rookie. If you can’t handle a woman, just say so.” 1 I never expected to run into Liam again at the TV station. Three years had passed, and he was now a rising star in the business world. The desperate, broken man from back then was gone. After the interview, he stopped me. “Sarah, long time no see.” Liam’s hand at his side clenched involuntarily. His voice was hoarse. “Does… does he treat you well?” I paused while organizing my script, not answering. Seeing I didn’t want to talk about it, Liam hurriedly changed the subject. “Sarah, I haven’t congratulated you on becoming a famous anchor.” His gaze lingered on me with a hint of nostalgia. “When we were young, the future we dreamed of was exactly like today…” I looked up, my cool gaze silencing him. Just as he was about to say something else in frustration, my assistant rushed over. “Sarah, are you ready? Mr. Vance is here to pick you up.” “He doesn’t look very happy.” I froze for a second, immediately putting down my things. “I’m coming.” Before I could take two steps, Liam instinctively grabbed my arm. “Sarah, if you’re unhappy, I can find a way to get you out. I…” I cut him off before he could finish. “And then what? Sell me again like you did back then?” I looked at Liam with pure mockery in my eyes. “You were the one who personally delivered me to him, remember?” 2 Liam and I grew up together. We were the high school sweethearts everyone envied. Everything changed the year Liam’s startup failed during our junior year of college. He needed a huge sum of money to balance the books. It was a debt our middle-class families couldn’t pay even if we sold everything we owned. At that time, Christian Vance, the “Crown Prince” of the city’s wealthiest family, posted a job listing. — Ten million dollars for a “Sleep Companion.” Requirements: Same age, same school. Consistent winner of speech contests since elementary school. Currently working at the campus radio station. He even specified height, weight, and hairstyle. It was detailed enough that he might as well have written my name. The campus forum exploded. Someone leaked that the Prince indeed suffered from severe insomnia. But hiring a “sleep companion” instead of seeing a doctor? What was that about? Most people thought it was just his way of pursuing me. Just as I was about to go clarify things with Christian, Liam stopped me. He said, “Sarah, I’ve never asked you for anything growing up.” “This time, only you can save me.” … “What are you standing there thinking about?” Christian grabbed my waist and lifted me into the car with one arm. “Is everyone at your station dead?” He held my cold hands, his face dark enough to drip ink. “Is a small interview like this worth leaving me and standing in the cold wind?” “Don’t tell me it was to see some long-lost childhood brother?” I was about to explain. A spoon was shoved into my mouth. Christian held a thermos of pear soup, looking fierce. “Before you finish this soup, don’t say a word!” By the time I was allowed to speak, the car had arrived at his residence. Christian silently dragged me to the dining table and forced me to eat an extra half bowl of rice. “I’ve fed you for three years and you still lost a pound.” “People will think I’m abusing you!” As he spoke, he pulled out a book from somewhere. “Tonight, I want to hear this one!” It was the fairy tale I read when we first met three years ago. The Little Mermaid. 3 Everyone knew the Prince had a bad temper and was moody. From the night I entered his villa, people placed bets. Betting I would be tortured and broken. But it was different from what they imagined. The moment I walked in, a fairy tale book was thrown in front of me. Christian sat on the sofa, eyes half-closed, beckoning me. “What are you staring at? I want to hear Cinderella… no, Snow White…” Realizing his slip of the tongue, he clicked his tongue impatiently. “Let’s just hear the one about the girl who got tricked by a scumbag and turned into sea foam.” I picked up the book and sat cross-legged in front of the sofa. The Little Mermaid isn’t long. Christian was not a quiet listener. He made faces the whole time. Only when the story ended did he lift his eyelids and look at me coolly. “Any insights?” I closed the book and suddenly leaned forward. My hands covered Christian’s bloodshot eyes. “Little Prince, you need to sleep.” Since then, I never saw that book again. Christian seemed to recall the past too. “You still owe me that book report! Double it! No, triple it! I want a three-thousand-word essay!” I was silent for a moment, then decisively explained to the jealous man. “I only knew the interviewee was Liam when I arrived.” “I have no lingering feelings, no romantic nostalgia…” Seeing Christian’s unmoved expression, I helplessly held up my fingers. “I swear, I’ll never see him again.” … I finally coaxed him back to a good mood. I swore the oath. Unexpectedly, I bumped into Liam again. Only this time, it was at a business dinner accompanying Christian. I didn’t like the atmosphere in the private room, so I went out for air. When I came back, people from the next room were coming in to network. Christian’s temper was notorious. People didn’t expect a response; they just toasted three times to show face. When it was Liam’s turn, his brain short-circuited. He bowed slightly to the man playing on his phone. “Sarah grew up sheltered, so her personality is inevitably aloof and proud.” “If she offends you in any way, please bear with her, Mr. Vance.” Hearing this, Christian put down his phone and leaned back. He glanced at Liam casually. “Bear with her?” He repeated the words and suddenly laughed. “If I don’t speak, she doesn’t dare say a word.” “What do you want me to bear?” 4 Liam’s expression froze instantly. Everyone stared at the floor in silence, expressions awkward. The next person ready to toast froze with his glass in mid-air, wiped sweat from his forehead, and offered a fake compliment. “Mr. Vance has great discipline methods. Admirable.” Others recovered and chimed in. “Exactly. Aloof and proud mean nothing. In front of Mr. Vance, she’s willing to bow down.” Christian frowned. Before he could speak, I pushed the door open. Before I even reached Christian, he kicked away someone blocking the path. He picked up his expensive suit jacket, wiped the chair, wasn’t satisfied, flipped the jacket inside out to expose the soft lining, and spread it on the chair. I sat down without changing my expression. I licked my dry lips. Before I could speak, a cup of hot tea was brought to my lips. Everyone looked at each other. Those who had just flattered him wished they could swallow their words. Christian’s gaze swept over the crowd, finally landing on Liam’s darkening face. He grinned, a truly malicious smile. “Rookie. If you can’t handle it, just say so.” After the provocation, he even had a seat added for Liam, right opposite us. At home, Christian liked to supervise my eating. Here, he was serving me excessively. Peeling shrimp, picking out fish bones. If I glanced at a dish, it appeared in my bowl the next second. If I frowned while eating, he naturally took away the dish I didn’t like. Throughout the meal, I didn’t say a word. Christian had enough fun and was in a good mood. “Except for the three who can’t talk, other projects can appear on my desk.” Everyone was overjoyed, stuffing proposals into the hands of the silent assistant. While doing so, they spouted blessings like “hundred years of harmony” and “grow old together.” They were smart enough to see Christian didn’t want to socialize, so they left quickly. The room emptied instantly. However, one tactless person remained. Liam walked up to me, adjusted his glasses, and smiled gently. “Sarah, Auntie Ye just messaged me. She made hangover soup for me.” Ignoring Christian’s expression of wanting to crush his glass, he continued: “She also said she plans to settle our engagement tonight…” My heart skipped a beat. I looked up at Christian abruptly. He was still smiling, but it sent chills down my spine. “Christian, listen to me…” “Childhood sweethearts, and an engagement,” Christian interrupted with a sneer. “People might think I’m despicable, rushing to be a homewrecker.” He dropped those words and stormed out, slamming the door. The room was quiet again. Liam frowned. “Does he always treat you like this?” “Sarah, I’m back. You don’t have to endure his temper anymore…” Bang— Before Liam could finish, the door was kicked hard. A waitress appeared at the door timidly. “The boss wants us to clean the room. Please, please leave immediately.” Needless to say, Christian caused the commotion. I chased after him to explain but was a step too late. Only the roar of a luxury car speeding away remained on the quiet street. Seeing this, Liam suggested, “Let me take you home.” I held my forehead, voice filled with suppressed irritation. “What are you doing? What right do you have to provoke him?” “Are you worried about me, Sarah?” “Liam!” I was thoroughly enraged. He laughed indifferently. “Let’s go, the designated driver is here. We’ll talk when we get back.”

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Everyone thought I was secretly in love with Chase Sterling. So when he lost a round of Truth or Dare, the crowd roared, pressuring me to kiss the star athlete from the rival university in his place. My breath hitched in my throat. “Come on, Elara. It’s just a kiss, it won’t kill you.” “Yeah, don’t worry. Chase will understand.” Chase leaned back, looking at me with that signature lazy, arrogant smirk. “Yeah, Elara. Do me a solid, will you?” He was betting on me refusing. He knew I was conservative, the quiet girl who never stepped out of line. But I lowered my head and whispered, “Fine.” Chase’s smile faltered instantly. His expression darkened. “Fine then. Three seconds. Not a millisecond less.” “See? I told you she’d do anything for Chase.” “Chase has her trained well.” Ignoring their jeers, I stood up and walked slowly toward Liam Thorne. I stood on my tiptoes, leaned in, and pressed my lips against his. 1 Chase Sterling was used to running the show. He’d seen it all. But tonight, in the private VIP room of the restaurant, he lost a game and picked “Truth.” Someone asked him if, in the three years we’d known each other, he had ever felt a spark for me. everyone leaned in, eager for the gossip. Chase paused for a second, then burst out laughing. “Who? Elara?? A spark? You’re kidding, right?” The room erupted in laughter. Only two people at the table remained silent. Me, sitting on the far edge of the booth. And Liam Thorne, sitting right next to Chase. Liam was the captain of the basketball team at the university next door. Tonight’s dinner was organized by Chase after their game. I had practically begged him to let me tag along. I hadn’t said a word all night, feeling completely out of place. Eventually, the group moved on to drinking and games. Chase, lounging in his chair, lost again. This time, he picked “Dare.” The card read: Kiss the person to your left for three seconds. To his left was Liam. Everyone looked at Liam. He didn’t react, just calmly continued eating his appetizers. Chase threw an arm around Liam’s shoulder. “Bro, you don’t mind if I kiss you, right?” Liam, known for being cold and distant, paused his fork. He offered a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Actually, I do mind.” The crowd started hooting. “Chase, man, Liam doesn’t swing that way. Just get a girl to sub in for you.” “Let Elara do it.” “She’d do anything for you, right?” I stayed silent. Chase looked at me, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Elara, help me out?” He was so sure I’d say no. “Fine,” I said softly. The room went quiet. Chase’s face dropped. “Okay. Three seconds.” I walked over to Liam. His face was flawless. It felt like a crime to touch him and ruin that perfection. My gaze drifted from his sharp jawline to his lips. Wait, did Chase specify where to kiss? He didn’t. So, cheek or lips… it didn’t matter, right? I bent down, intending to aim for his cheek, but at the last moment, I turned and pressed my lips firmly against his. I felt Liam’s long lashes flutter against my skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed. The room exploded. “Whoa! Elara!” “Three seconds! Count it!” “3.” “2.” “2.5.” “2.3.” Liam’s lips were incredibly soft. My entire body was trembling with nerves. “2.15…” Chase couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, breaking the countdown. “Three seconds are up. Done.” He yanked me back by my arm, putting distance between Liam and me. Sensing Chase’s foul mood, the group quieted down and awkwardly went back to their food. 2 On the drive back, the silence in the car was suffocating. Chase stared straight ahead at the road before suddenly speaking. “Elara, you were getting back at me, weren’t you?” I blinked, pulling myself out of my thoughts. “What?” “You saw me kissing that girl outside the dorms last week, didn’t you? So you used Liam to get revenge? You’re so petty. That was just a fling.” Kissing? I recalled vaguely that I had gone to drop off some notes for Chase a week ago. I did see him making out with a stunning girl by his car. It was loud and public. Very on-brand for Chase Sterling—wild and unattached. But I hadn’t felt a thing. I had told Chase before that I didn’t like him. He just never believed me. 3 When I was ten, my family went bankrupt. My father fled the country to escape debt, and shortly after, my mother went abroad with a friend. My uncle took me in. By then, my uncle had remarried into the wealthy Sterling family. He was Chase’s stepfather. I moved into the Sterling estate. Chase was my age, but he was a terror. He loved to tease me, prank me, and order me around. After six months, I was done putting up with him. Chase sensed my defiance. He threw a stack of cash at me with a sneer. “Elara, you’re broke, right? Be my personal assistant. I’ll pay you a salary.” He wasn’t wrong. I had no one. I couldn’t rely on my uncle forever; he was already walking on eggshells in the Sterling household. I needed money. Money meant freedom. Money meant a safety net. At first, Chase knew I stuck around for the cash. But eventually, he convinced himself I was actually in love with him. It started in our sophomore year of high school. Chase and Liam lived in the same luxury gated community and went to the same private school. I went to the public school on the other side of town. I only came back to the Sterling estate on weekends. When I heard Chase had a game against Liam, I asked if I could come. Chase eyed me suspiciously. “I thought you had to study? You said you weren’t going out.” “I’m not too busy this week,” I lied. Chase leaned in, invading my personal space. “My dad said you’ve been pulling all-nighters studying. You came back just for my game?” His eyes lit up with narcissistic realization. “You like me, don’t you? Wow, Elara, get a grip!” I waved my hands frantically. “No, you misunderstood, I don’t…” Chase ignored me, already dialing his best friend. “Dude, you were right. Elara is totally into me. Her grades dropped three spots this week because she’s distracted, but she still came to watch me play. Dinner’s on me.” I found out later his friends had bet that I wasn’t just doing it for the money. At the court, I didn’t look at Chase once. My eyes were glued to Liam. He wore a light-colored jersey. His hands were strong, his movements graceful. When he jumped for a shot, his jersey lifted, revealing toned abs. I kept my head down, terrified someone would catch me staring. Nobody would ever link someone like me to someone like Liam. Nobody knew about the summer I was fifteen. I used to sneak out at night to go through the recycling bins in the rich neighborhood. Rich people threw away amazing things. Designer bags with tiny scratches, clothes with tags still on, electronics. I could sell them for good money. One night, at the last house on the block—Liam’s house—I saw something glinting in the storm drain near the curb. It was a ring. I spent twenty minutes fishing it out with a stick. Just as I grabbed it, the front door opened. Liam ran out, wearing silk pajamas, looking panicked. He was tall, clean, and smelled like expensive soap. I was holding a trash bag and covered in grime. I turned bright red. He saw the ring in my hand and let out a huge breath. He looked at me without a hint of disgust. “I’m so sorry,” he said, breathing hard. “Could I buy that ring back from you? My parents were fighting and… it got thrown out. I thought it was gone.” That was the first time Liam Thorne really saw me. But I had known him since I moved in. He was the golden boy. Even my aunt, who hated everyone, praised him. He was everything Chase wasn’t—polite, disciplined, brilliant. I handed him the ring. It was grimy from the drain, so I wiped it with a tissue from my pocket. “Here.” “Thank you. Wait here, let me get my phone, I’ll transfer you…” “No need,” I mumbled. I grabbed my bag of “treasures” and ran into the night. I felt ashamed of the difference between us. But that night, I made a promise to myself. One day, I would stand in front of him as an equal. I started secretly following his life. I went to every game he played against Chase. I found out which city he wanted to go to for college. He became my goal. While chasing that goal, I fixed myself. That year, I cracked the top three in my class. For the first time, teachers looked at me with respect. Only Chase thought I was doing it for him. When I nagged him to study (per my uncle’s request), he thought it was love. When I went to games, he thought it was love. When I endured his pranks for my paycheck, he thought it was love. I stopped trying to explain. After graduation, I got into a university in Boston, right next to Liam’s Ivy League school. Surprisingly, Chase followed us to Boston, attending a different college nearby. During freshman year, I didn’t see Chase much. But sophomore year, the inter-collegiate games started up. I went to every single one. Chase told his friends he’d never seen a girl so clingy.

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1 Five years after we broke up, my ex-boyfriend was on a livestream, asking for advice on how to get me to refund the $650 he’d spent on me during our relationship. “Host, my ex is a total gold digger,” he whined into the camera. “She had to have a special bowl of collagen porridge every morning. A hundred bucks a bowl! I could buy enough bread to last me three years with that money.” “My sister had a miscarriage, and when I asked her to help with the hospital bills, she said no. But then she went and bought her own mom a Chanel bag.” “Isn’t my sister’s health more important than some designer purse?” “Then my sister got into a little trouble and just needed a hundred grand to sort things out, and she actually broke up with me over it.” “It’s all her fault I’m still single. Host, you gotta help me. Help me get my $650 back.” If I remembered correctly, Ethan Lowe had never bought me so much as a bottle of water. Where in the hell did he get the figure $650? I immediately requested to join the livestream to confront him. … Listening to Ethan’s litany of lies, I was shaking with rage. I had dated Ethan for five years. In that time, I bought him Air Jordans, a Rolex Submariner, and took his entire family on a vacation to Europe. I gave him a ten-thousand-dollar monthly allowance and paid for his sister’s private maternity nurse and hospital bills when she had her baby. I even paid the breakup fee he owed his previous girlfriend. The real reason I dumped Ethan was because his sister had an affair, got pregnant, and he demanded I pay for her abortion. When I refused, he gave me the silent treatment for a month. Then, on my birthday, he suddenly reached out. I thought he wanted to reconcile. Turns out, he wanted me to give his sister’s much younger boyfriend a hundred thousand dollars in hush money to appease him. That was the moment the fog in my brain finally cleared. Why on earth should I pay off my boyfriend’s sister’s side piece? I might have money, but I wasn’t a fool. After the breakup, I kicked him out of my apartment. I never expected that while I was away on a business trip, Ethan would come back and clean the place out. He took everything. Even the toilet. It was because he’d demanded “emotional distress compensation” and I’d refused. He’d told me if I wouldn’t give it to him, he’d take it himself. I was going to call the police, but his mother got on her knees and begged me, saying her son had just had a moment of confusion and asked me to forgive him. I felt sorry for her, and since I wasn’t short on cash, I let it go. I never dreamed that five years later, he’d be on a livestream demanding reimbursement for dating expenses, doxxing me in the process. In the few minutes I’d been watching, I’d already received over thirty calls from unknown numbers all over the country. I typed in the comments: [Host, this is Scarlett Vance, the ex-girlfriend of “Man_on_the_Rise.” I’d like to join the stream and set the record straight.] The host’s face lit up. “Man on the Rise, your ex is here! Are you willing to go live with her?” Ethan stammered, “Uh, maybe not. Scarlett has a really bad temper. I’m afraid she’ll just yell at me. Can’t you just tell her to send me the money?” The chat immediately filled with messages of support for Ethan. [No wonder he was cheap with her. His ex is a psycho.] [I’d slap a woman like that three times a day and wouldn’t spend a dime on her. $650 over five years is generous.] I responded by dropping ten “Carnivals,” the most expensive gift on the platform. [Host, let me on with Ethan, and I’ll drop ten more.] The chat exploded. [Damn, that’s like three grand in one go! This woman is a queen!] [Someone who drops ten Carnivals without blinking is worried about $650? Yeah, right.] The host practically leaped out of his chair and patched me into the stream. The second my face appeared on screen, I let him have it. “Ethan, have you ever spent a single penny on me? Where did you even come up with the number six-fifty?” “Show me the receipts.” Hearing me deny it, Ethan flew into a rage. “See, Scarlett? I told everyone you were a gold digger! You spend my money, block me, and then pretend it never happened, is that it?” A troll in the chat egged him on. [Bro, post the receipts and shut her up! That’s over six hundred bucks! You could cater a whole table at a wedding with that kind of money!] Ethan, completely missing the sarcasm, immediately sent the “receipt” to the host. “Host, do me a favor and display this for everyone to see.” The host opened the file and burst out laughing. “Sorry, everyone! I’m usually very professional, unless I literally can’t help it!” The moment the receipt appeared on screen, the chat went wild. [You have got to be kidding me. Is this guy for real?] [And he calls that her spending his money? I’d be too embarrassed to even admit this happened.] Ethan’s breathing grew ragged, his voice a little weak. “Well, if Scarlett hadn’t broken up with me without giving me a breakup fee, would I have tripped and fallen while I was at her apartment taking what I was owed?” “I got a huge gash on my leg! It needed three stitches! The pain was excruciating!” “I called Scarlett from the hospital to ask her to pay the bill, but she’d already blocked me.” I laughed out loud. What a shame he didn’t break his neck. “Ethan, let me get this straight. You hired a locksmith to illegally enter my home, stole my furniture and appliances, and then you accidentally hurt yourself during the robbery and you’re blaming me? Does that sound like the logic of a sane person?” “If you’d just given me the hundred grand I asked for, would I have fallen in the first place?” he shot back, completely shameless. “Because you were so stingy, I’ve been living in poverty for years.” “Just pay up. If you don’t, this won’t be about just six hundred and fifty dollars anymore!” That whole incident with the furniture five years ago left a disgusting taste in my mouth. My moment of pity had haunted me. If I gave in to him now, I’d never forgive myself. I snorted. “I’m not giving you a single cent. What are you going to do about it?” Suddenly, a young woman’s voice piped up from Ethan’s side. “Listen here, you old hag! I’m Ethan’s fiancée. You have to give him his money back. How else is he supposed to pay for my dowry?” I frowned, certain I must have misheard. “Honey, how much is Ethan paying for your dowry? How can it possibly come down to a measly six hundred and fifty bucks?” “He’s giving me $1,314,” she said proudly. “It’s to show he’ll love me for life.” I was floored. “$131,400? Ethan is that cheap? He’s actually willing to spend that much on you?” “Not one hundred thirty-one thousand,” Ethan corrected her quickly. “It’s one thousand, three hundred and fourteen dollars. It symbolizes that I’ll love Cindy forever.” I couldn’t help it; I roared with laughter. The chat was on fire. [What century is this? A $1,314 dowry payment? That’s more insulting than giving nothing at all.] [If that was my daughter, I’d drag her home and break her legs if she didn’t listen.] But Cindy was shameless. “What do you people know? You can’t put a price on love. My boyfriend may not have a lot of money, but he’s willing to humble himself and get back all the money he spent on his exes just to marry me. That’s true dedication.” I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. So I wasn’t the first victim? There were others? Trying to stifle my giggles, I asked, “So, Ethan, how much have you managed to raise so far?” “I just need your six hundred and fifty,” he announced proudly. “Once I have that, I can officially go to Cindy’s family and propose.” The host spoke up, his voice full of pity. “Young lady, take some advice from an older brother. Go home. If you marry a man like this, you’re signing up for a lifetime of misery.” From her voice, Cindy sounded about the same age as my younger sister. A wave of sympathy washed over me. “Sweetie, you’re young. You don’t know what real love is. Ethan is not a good person. By not giving him this money, I’m saving you.” Cindy wasn’t having it. “You shameless old witch! Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t want me to marry him because you’re still in love with him! Well, you can forget it! Ethan told me you have that old lady smell, and if it wasn’t for your money, he wouldn’t have looked at you twice!” I was so furious I wanted to reach through the screen and throttle him. Yes, I was three years older than Ethan, but I was in my early thirties. I worked out daily, had a meticulous skincare routine, and could easily pass for someone in their early twenties. Old lady smell? And he was the one who relentlessly pursued me, claiming he loved older women because they made him feel secure. I had made it crystal clear from the start: I was twenty-seven and dating for marriage. If he wasn’t serious, he shouldn’t waste my time. He swore on his entire family’s lives that if he didn’t marry me, they would all suffer a lifetime of misfortune. Only then did I agree to date him. I laid down the law. “Ethan, I’m not giving you a dime. If you want it so badly, sue me.” He shot back with his own threat. “You just wait, Scarlett. I’ll be at your place in ten minutes. I’m gonna beat the crap out of you!” “Fine,” I snarled. “If you don’t show up, you’re not a man.” With that, he disconnected. The host looked worried. “Scarlett, you need to call the police right now. A broke man like that has nothing to lose. He might do something crazy!” I just smiled. He wanted to play tough? I knew people a lot tougher than him. “Host, mind if I run a little ad on your stream?” “Anyone local who can get to my apartment complex within ten minutes, come on down. No limit on numbers. I’m paying a hundred bucks a head for your time. I need people who can curse creatively. The filthier, the better.” “Also looking for some tough-looking guys with neck tattoos, maybe some local heavy-hitters. Name your price.” I dropped my address in the comments, and the host pinned it to the top. The chat was a blur of messages. [Lady, I don’t need the money. I just love drama.] [Sis, me and my dorm mates are three minutes away. We’ll protect you!] [Honey, my mother-in-law has been undefeated in arguments for thirty years, and we live in the same complex. We’re on our way down.] [Damn it, why do I live so far away? I want in on this!] The host was practically vibrating with excitement. “This is killing me! I want to be there so bad! I can’t imagine what that guy and his girlfriend will do when they see a whole crowd waiting for them. Scarlett, please, you have to livestream it.” I’m a businesswoman. I would never pass up an opportunity for this much free publicity. I sent a message to my work group chat: “Team, time for some overtime. Grab the new product samples and promo materials and get to my apartment complex ASAP. Everyone gets a thousand-dollar bonus, plus reimbursed travel. You can take tomorrow morning off.” I shook my husband awake. “Get up! Get the camera! The viral moment of a lifetime is here!” He was groggy. “What’s going on?” “My ex-boyfriend is on his way over to extort me. We’re going to the front gate to meet him.” That woke him up instantly. “I’m calling my buddies. If that punk lays a single finger on you, I’ll break him.” I smiled. “No need. I have reinforcements.” When I got to the front gate of my complex, I was stunned. Did these people teleport? There were already over a hundred people gathered, with dozens of phones set up on tripods, all streaming. A neighbor waved. “Scarlett, we’re all here to protect you!” When the strangers realized I was the main character, they all started cheering and waving. A few huge, muscular guys came over. “Ma’am, we don’t want your money. We just want a word with this little punk.” A dozen older women were cracking their knuckles excitedly. “Honey, just give the signal. We’ll drag his ancestors out of their graves and curse them all over again.” I thanked everyone, gave the building security a heads-up, and immediately got to work hanging up my company’s promotional banners. Within eight minutes, my entire team had arrived. They started handing out samples and brochures to the crowd, setting up ad displays along the sidewalk. Twenty minutes later, Ethan and Cindy pulled up on a single shared rental bike. Ethan was holding a small switch he’d broken off a tree. He saw the sea of people and froze. “It’s midnight,” he muttered. “Why are there so many people here?” Cindy yelled, “Ethan, let’s go! If Scarlett doesn’t pay up today, we’ll do what we did last time and empty her apartment!” I waved. “Ethan! Over here!” He strutted over, twig in hand, a smug look on his face. “Scarlett, did you come out here just to meet me? You miss me that much?” Cindy looked alarmed. “I admit you’re kind of pretty, Scarlett, but if you try to steal Ethan from me, I’ll fight you!” I made a gagging sound. “Please, Ethan, don’t make me sick. I was young and dumb enough to take a few bites of shit, and the memory still turns my stomach. I have no desire to even look at shit anymore.” His face flushed with rage. “How dare you be so vulgar, Scarlett? You’re the shit!” He wanted to curse me out? Fine. Let him face the full might of the nation’s most formidable fighting force: angry grandmas. I temporarily paused my own stream and gave the aunties a subtle nod. They immediately swarmed Ethan and Cindy, unleashing a verbal onslaught. The barrage of profanity was so intense that none of it was broadcastable. I could hear other streamers nearby groaning that their accounts were getting banned. Ethan and Cindy spun around, trying to fire back, but their voices were completely drowned out by the sonic wall of insults. The sheer volume of spittle flying from the aunties’ mouths was enough to give them a shower. Ethan snapped and tried to get physical. But the moment he raised his little switch, one of the tattooed guys grabbed his arm. “You even think about touching one of them, little man, and you won’t see tomorrow’s sunrise.” “There are cameras everywhere!” Ethan shrieked, pointing at the security cameras. “You hit me, and I’ll call the cops! I’ll sue you for everything you’ve got!” “Yeah!” Cindy chimed in. “We’ll sue you blind!” The tattooed guy just picked Ethan up and tossed him into the crowd. A swarm of people immediately closed in. When they parted, Ethan was on the ground, his face bruised and his glasses shattered. Cindy, who had been so aggressive just moments before, was now silent as a mouse. “You just wait,” Ethan whimpered, holding his jaw. “I’m calling the police! I’ll have you all thrown in jail for life!” I held up my phone. “Already did that for you. They’ll be here any second.” When the police arrived, Ethan ran to them like they were his long-lost family. “Officers, you have to arrest Scarlett and all these men! They assaulted me! Execute them!” I calmly explained the situation to the officers, who then reviewed the security footage. I hadn’t touched Ethan. The aunties, while verbally abusive, hadn’t caused any physical harm, which wasn’t illegal. Plus, they were all over sixty-eight. Good luck prosecuting them. “What about the guys who hit me?” Ethan whined. “You have to arrest them!” But the crowd had been packed so tightly that the cameras couldn’t see who had thrown the punches. Ethan couldn’t identify his attackers either, so the matter was dropped. Someone in the crowd yelled, “Get out of here before we give you another round!” Ethan shot me a look of pure hatred. “Fine, Scarlett, I’ll go. But you have to reimburse me for the shared bike fee.” The crowd erupted in laughter. Ethan seemed oblivious, holding his hand out expectantly. One of the guys couldn’t take it anymore, pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet, and threw it at him. “I’ll pay it for her. Now get lost before you embarrass yourself any further.” Ethan glared at me one last time, then grabbed Cindy and stormed off. As they left, I faintly heard him say, “Don’t worry, Cindy. I swear I’ll get that thirteen-hundred-and-fourteen-dollar dowry for you.” What a mess. How could any girl be so clueless? I had my team continue handing out gifts and paid the promised appearance fees, spending about three thousand dollars in total. I wasn’t short on money. I just refused to give that parasite the satisfaction. The incident was a marketing miracle. My social media account gained a million followers overnight, and I quickly got it verified. The people who had tried our samples that night flooded the comments with rave reviews. The new product line sold out the moment it launched. Business owners from all over the country started messaging me, asking for exclusive distribution rights. Ethan, of course, showed up in my comments section: [Scarlett, you owe me. All this traffic came from me. You have to give me half of your profits.] I didn’t block him. I just let him rave. The more outrageous his claims, the better my engagement numbers got. When he saw I was ignoring him, he posted one last threat: [You wanna be heartless, Scarlett? Fine. Don’t come crying to me when things go wrong.] I didn’t take him seriously. He was broke and pathetic, all talk and no action. But a week later, my factory was in trouble. Big trouble.

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