Category: English

A severely depressed student sent me a suicide note late at night. I rushed to the school rooftop and pulled him back from the gates of hell. The very next day, his mother reported me to the school district, accusing me of psychological manipulation and grooming her son. I did not argue with her. I silently accepted the school’s decision to suspend me pending an investigation. Turning around, she brought a reporter to the school gates, holding up a massive banner: “Give My Child Back His Mental Health! Severely Punish the Corrupt Teacher Valerie Pierce!” On Thanksgiving Eve, her son stood on that same rooftop once again. He specifically asked to see me. She called my phone frantically, her voice bordering on madness. I replied with absolute calm. “My suspension is specifically to prevent me from causing him further harm. Therefore, I cannot be there. Going would be a violation of district orders. You will just have to wait for the fire department to rescue him.” … Late Friday night, I had just finished grading the last batch of weekly journals and was getting ready for bed. My phone buzzed. It was a message from my student, Noah. “Ms. Pierce, I finally figured it out. Thank you for everything.” Beneath the text was a photo. It showed the very edge of the high school’s rooftop. Two feet dangled over the abyss, framed by the glittering city lights far below. A spike of pure ice shot up my spine, freezing the blood in my veins. I dialed his number instantly. The receiver only fed me a cold, mechanical busy signal. Without a second of hesitation, I grabbed my car keys off the sofa and sprinted downstairs. Throwing myself into the driver’s seat, I started the engine and used the car’s Bluetooth to dial 911. “Crestview High School, the main building rooftop. A seventeen year old student named Noah Collins is attempting to jump.” My voice sounded terrifyingly calm. There was not a single tremor in it. The car shot forward like an arrow released from a bow. I blew through red lights, completely ignoring the traffic signals. My foot was practically glued to the gas pedal while my brain rapidly cycled through every psychological intervention technique I knew. Do not agitate him. Do not shout. Show empathy. Make him feel profoundly understood. A fifteen minute drive took me exactly seven. I sprinted up the stairwell and pushed open the heavy iron door leading to the roof. Noah was sitting on the ledge, his back to the entrance. His thin school uniform billowed in the night wind, making him look like a fragile kite about to snap off its string. I stopped walking. I did not call out his name. About thirty feet behind him, I quietly sat down on the concrete. “When birds grow weary of the sky, do they long to plunge into the deep sea to see the coral and the whales?” I spoke softly, reciting a line of poetry from the journal entry he had submitted the week prior. His shoulders gave a violent, almost imperceptible flinch. I kept my voice steady. “The feedback I wrote on your paper was that your words are like frost on a windowpane. They can bite and sting the heart. But when that frost melts, it becomes the water that nourishes the earth.” “Noah, your words hold immense power. It is a power that can heal others, but more importantly, it can heal you.” “You are a born writer. Your story is only in its opening chapters. You should not put a period here.” I did not mention his parents. I did not lecture him. I simply sat there in the quiet night, talking about his writing and the beautiful imagery in his poetry. The wind was biting, making my teeth chatter, but I kept my posture perfectly straight. An hour later, shivering uncontrollably, he slowly climbed back over the railing. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the safety of the concrete floor. Just as I was about to let out a breath of relief, the heavy roof door burst open with a deafening crash. His mother, Brenda, rushed in alongside several police officers. “Noah! My baby!” Brenda threw herself at the trembling boy, her wails echoing across the rooftop. She held him and cried for a few minutes before suddenly turning around. She practically threw herself at my feet, ready to drop to her knees. I reacted quickly, catching her arms to hold her up. “Ms. Pierce! You are a literal angel sent from heaven to save my boy!” She gripped my hands with a vice like strength, her face a mess of tears and snot. “If it were not for you, my son would be gone! You saved his life. You have been giving him free tutoring since his freshman year! You have poured so much of your heart into him!” The police officers and school security guards watched the exchange in silence. “Ms. Pierce, I have two thousand dollars right here. You have to take it! You deserve this!” She pulled a thick envelope of cash from her designer purse and tried to shove it into my coat pocket. I firmly pushed her hand back. “Brenda, please, there is no need for this. I am his teacher. This is my job.” I looked her in the eyes, my tone turning serious. “Money will not fix the root of the problem. Noah’s mental state requires far more attention from you as his parents.” I helped her steady herself. Later that night, I compiled a comprehensive list of adolescent psychological intervention resources and the contact information for several professional counseling centers, sending them directly to her phone. 2 On Monday, I was giving a masterclass in the grand lecture hall. The tiered seats were packed with students and faculty members observing my teaching methods. I was dissecting a classic piece of Victorian literature, reading a famous line about a tree planted in memory of a deceased wife. I was so immersed in the emotional weight of the text that my own voice grew slightly thick. The heavy oak doors at the back of the hall suddenly swung open. The principal walked in, accompanied by two men in sharp, official looking suits. Every single pair of eyes in the room darted toward them. My heart instantly sank. One of the men, possessing a stern, square jawline, walked straight down the aisle to my podium. He completely interrupted my lesson in front of hundreds of students and dozens of my peers. “Are you Ms. Valerie Pierce?” I offered a slow nod. “We are from the District Board of Education’s Disciplinary Committee. We have received a formal, named complaint against you. We need you to halt your teaching duties immediately and accompany us to the office for an investigation.” He did not shout, but in the dead silence of that lecture hall, his words hit like a bomb. A tidal wave of whispers erupted among the students. The other teachers exchanged shocked, suspicious glances, their eyes scanning me with deep scrutiny. I was escorted out of the room with a man on either side of me. A suffocating wave of humiliation washed over me. When they pushed open the door to the principal’s office, I froze. Brenda was sitting on the leather sofa. Seeing me, her eyes darted away, entirely avoiding my gaze. Sitting next to her was a scruffy man with a DSLR camera around his neck. He introduced himself as a reporter for the City Chronicle. Before I could even speak, Brenda stood up. Right in front of the district officials, she pressed play on her phone. An audio recording filled the room. It was my voice, sounding incredibly harsh. “Noah! If you keep giving up on yourself like this, your entire life is going to be ruined!” That was the entirety of the clip. Stripped of all context, heavily spliced, it sounded suffocatingly aggressive. Brenda instantly snapped into her role as a heartbroken, devastated mother. She sobbed directly at the district officials. “Do you hear that? This is how she has been verbally abusing my son for months!” “She tells everyone my boy is a genius, but behind closed doors, she tears him down! She is grooming him! She is completely gaslighting my child!” “How old is my son? She is a woman in her twenties, spending hours alone with him every day, talking about literature, talking about life, calling him her soulmate! It is blatantly obvious she is fostering an inappropriate, romantic teacher student attachment!” “She wants to isolate him so he becomes completely dependent on her. All so she can eventually extort us for astronomical private tutoring fees!” The fake reporter’s camera flashed aggressively in my face, the harsh light blinding me. Brenda slammed a stack of printed bank statements onto the coffee table, followed by a highly questionable psychiatric diagnosis report. “Here are the wire transfers she forced me to send for her ‘tutoring’! And here is the medical proof! My son has been diagnosed with severe clinical depression because of her psychological abuse!” “I am demanding that the school and the district compensate us for his medical bills and emotional distress. I want fifty thousand dollars!” The blood rushed to my head, leaving my vision speckled with black spots. Those bank transfers were just reimbursements. I had asked her to send me money so I could buy Noah specific study guides. She had deliberately photoshopped out the transaction memos. And the accusation of fostering a romantic attachment was an absolutely sickening, baseless lie. Standing in front of all of them, I was so furious my vocal cords locked up. My body swayed slightly. The principal let out a heavy sigh and delivered the verdict. “Ms. Pierce, per district protocol, you are suspended pending further review. Please hand over your office keys and your ID badge, and head home.” I walked out of the building feeling like an empty shell. But a far more explosive scene was waiting for me at the front gates. Brenda had taken her hired reporter to the main entrance. They had strung up a massive, blindingly white banner across the wrought iron gates. Bold black letters screamed out: “Give My Child Back His Mental Health! Severely Punish the Corrupt Teacher Valerie Pierce!” She was performing for the camera, weeping hysterically as she listed my supposed crimes. My phone vibrated violently. Richard Blackwood, the president of the Parent Teacher Association, had already posted photos and videos of the scene in the massive parent group chat. “Look at this, everyone! This woman is a ticking time bomb around our kids! A teacher with zero moral compass needs to be blacklisted from the industry forever!” “I propose we draft a joint petition demanding the school board give us a formal explanation!” “Exactly! This is terrifying. To think we actually respected her before this.” “You really can never know a person’s true colors. Who knows what sick agenda she actually had. It makes my skin crawl.” I stood on the opposite side of the street, staring at that blinding banner and Brenda’s theatrical, disgusting performance. My phone completely froze under the sheer volume of abusive text messages pouring in. With a totally blank expression, I raised my phone, aimed the lens at the absurd circus in front of me, and pressed the shutter. 3 I was officially suspended. The first thing I did when I got home was unplug my router and shut off my cellular data, but the harassment found ways to seep through. Richard Blackwood had leaked my home address and personal cell phone number to a group chat filled with hundreds of angry parents. “This is where the witch lives. If anyone has grievances to air out, feel free to drop by and have a chat with her.” From that day on, my phone rang non stop with unknown numbers. Every time I answered, I was met with vile, explosive curses. “Why don’t you do the world a favor and drop dead? You call yourself an educator? You are trash!” “I heard you groom little boys. You are absolutely disgusting!” My front porch became a dumping ground for rotting vegetables and foul smelling garbage. The final straw was the morning I tried to leave my apartment, only to find the keyhole of my front door completely filled with industrial superglue. I did not shed a single tear. I did not call the police. Calling the cops would only attract a crowd and give them another opportunity to humiliate me. I quietly called a locksmith to replace the hardware. Then, I went online and ordered several discreet pinhole cameras, installing them above my door frame and inside the peephole. I was going to capture every single one of their ugly faces on high definition video, frame by frame. I forced myself to eat three meals a day. I forced myself to sleep on a strict schedule. Then, I sat down at my laptop and began systematically organizing the arsenal of evidence that would burn their lies to the ground. That heavily edited audio clip was the linchpin. I contacted an old friend of mine, an absolute wizard in cyber security, who had helped set up the camera system in my tutoring classroom years ago. Under immense pressure and taking a massive personal risk, he stayed up all night pulling the raw, unedited cache data from the deepest layers of the cloud servers. He managed to recover the original, untouched two hour recording of that tutoring session. Once I had the raw file, I did not hand it off to anyone else. I taught myself how to use professional audio forensic software. Wearing noise canceling headphones, I listened to the track on a loop, manually generating crystal clear soundwave spectrograms. Using bright red digital markers, I pinpointed the exact timestamps where Brenda had spliced, cut, and stitched the audio together to change the context. I spent sleepless nights reading through legal precedents and civil codes. I interviewed three different attorneys before hiring Arthur Kingsley, a man infamous in legal circles for his ruthless, surgical precision in the courtroom. Next was Brenda’s forged psychiatric report. It was stamped by a so called Mental Wellness Center I had never heard of. I drove over two hundred miles to find the dilapidated, sketchy clinic hidden in a rundown suburban strip mall. Posing as a highly anxious mother, I engaged the staff. Through careful questioning and hidden audio recordings, I obtained hard proof that the man who signed Noah’s diagnosis, a certain Dr. Higgins, did not even hold a valid medical license. The night before my scheduled hearing with the district board’s investigative committee, I did not sleep. I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, endlessly rehearsing my statement. I needed to ensure every single word I used was precise, icy, and entirely stripped of personal emotion. The next morning, facing a panel consisting of the principal and high ranking district officials, I did not cry. I did not beg for my job back. I simply placed a silver USB drive in the center of the polished conference table. “Ladies and gentlemen, everything I need to say is on this drive.” The flash drive contained four meticulously organized folders. Folder One held the unedited, two hour audio recording alongside my forensic soundwave analysis. Folder Two contained two weeks’ worth of high definition security footage showing the vandalism, the harassment, and the superglue being injected into my locks. Folder Three contained the undercover recordings from the fake clinic and a comprehensive background check on the unlicensed doctor. Folder Four contained every single text message Brenda and I had exchanged over the past two years, including her constant begging for extra tutoring sessions and her endless paragraphs praising my dedication. My presentation did not sound like a victim pleading for justice. It sounded like a brilliant academic defending a flawless thesis. This time, I was going to make sure they paid the absolute maximum price for their cruelty. 4 It was Thanksgiving Eve, a night meant for family and warmth. I was sitting alone in my apartment, running through the legal strategies Arthur Kingsley had outlined for me. In the parent group chat, Brenda was currently showing off. She proudly announced she had hired a gold medal tutor with a Harvard degree for Noah, costing nearly three hundred dollars an hour. She posted a photo of a very expensive looking contract, the caption dripping with smug arrogance. “This is what real professionals look like. So much better than those lazy public school teachers who just coast by!” Richard Blackwood immediately chimed in to stroke her ego. “Brilliant move, Brenda! You can never put a price tag on a child’s education. It is best to cut out the cancer early and keep certain toxic influences away from him!” I stared at the screen with absolute apathy and hit the button to leave the group chat forever. Suddenly, an unknown local number lit up my phone screen. My pulse spiked. I swiped to answer and simultaneously hit the screen record button. Brenda’s ear piercing scream echoed through the speaker. “Valerie! You vicious bitch! You have completely ruined my son!” “Noah is back on the roof! He says he does not trust anyone else in the world, he only trusts you! You need to get over here right now!” In the background, I could hear the howling wind and the distorted, booming voices of police officers using bullhorns. I could even clearly hear Richard Blackwood standing right next to her, spewing his toxic advice. “Make her come! Tell her to get her ass over here right now! When she gets here, make her kneel down and apologize to the kid! Maybe if he sees her beg, he will soften up and come down!” Brenda’s tone instantly shifted from rabid cursing to demanding, desperate pleas. “Ms. Pierce. No, Saint Pierce! I am begging you, please come here!” “If you come right now, I will drop the complaint with the district tomorrow morning! I won’t even ask for the fifty thousand dollars! I will drop it all!” My heart was physically aching in my chest. The image of Noah’s pale, hopeless face violently clashed with the grotesque, twisted expressions of Brenda and Richard in my mind. The conflict was tearing me apart. The raw, human instinct to save a life was at war with my dignity, which they had trampled into the mud. I could barely breathe. I walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. In the distance, atop the tallest high rise in the downtown skyline, I could see the frantic, flashing red and blue lights of police cruisers. That was where he was. I took a deep, shuddering breath. When I finally spoke, my voice was so calm it bordered on absolute cruelty. I articulated every single word with lethal precision. “Hello, Mrs. Collins.” “First of all, according to the joint petition drafted by you and PTA President Richard Blackwood, signed by dozens of parents and submitted to the school board… I, Valerie Pierce, am a dangerous individual with severe moral failings, actively engaged in the psychological manipulation and grooming of your son.” “My current suspension is a direct mandate from my superiors designed specifically to ‘protect the student’ and prevent me from causing any further harm to Noah.” “Therefore, I cannot be there.” “If I show up, I am defying an official district order. I am breaking the rules. And I am placing the child you claim I have ‘severely damaged’ into an even more dangerous situation.” “That would be irresponsible to the boy, and incredibly irresponsible to you and the rest of the concerned parents.” “You will just have to wait for the fire department to rescue him.”

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On the day we broke up, I deliberately poked right at his deepest wound. “Every time I look at those hands, it makes me sick to my stomach.” Years later, he became my father’s attending physician. Before discussing the medical chart, he looked at me with chilling indifference and asked: “Ms. Davis, my hands won’t cause you any physiological discomfort, will they?” 01 Yesterday, a friend called and told me there might be hope for my dad’s condition. Their hospital had just hired a Dr. Sterling, who recently returned from studying abroad. His exact area of research was my dad’s rare disease. But I never in a million years expected Dr. Sterling to be Liam Sterling. “Dr. Sterling is so handsome! If his hands hadn’t been burned, he’d be absolutely perfect.” “I heard from Dr. Miller that his ex-girlfriend caused it. And the worst part? She dumped him because of the scars.” “Ew, seriously? That’s so disgusting.” Passing by the nurse’s station, I overheard several nurses gossiping while prepping IV bags. My footsteps faltered for a second, but I kept walking down the hall. With every step closer to that office door, my heart beat faster and faster. Thump, thump, thump. When my hand finally rested on the doorknob, I couldn’t stop trembling. But the moment I saw that familiar silhouette, everything went completely quiet. The man in the white coat heard the door open, stopped writing, and looked up. When our eyes met, my heart stopped. My entire body went rigid. Honestly, I had already mentally prepared myself for Liam’s mockery and scorn. Because— I was that disgusting, vile ex-girlfriend. 02 But as long as he could give my dad a fighting chance, I was willing to endure anything. In a fraction of a second, the man withdrew his gaze. “You must be Robert Davis’s family member. Have a seat.” His voice was freezing cold and completely detached. I remembered when I first had a crush on him, he always wore this same unapproachable, distant expression. He tipped his chin toward the chair across from him, and then… He looked back down and continued writing his notes. Was he— Pretending not to recognize me? The thought flashed through my mind, but I instantly dismissed it. How could he pretend to be so calm facing someone he despised? He was a proud, arrogant guy. Back when I was relentlessly pursuing him, if he got annoyed, he would just turn and walk away without sparing me a single word. But thinking about it logically, it made sense. I was wearing a surgical mask and had bangs now. And so many years had passed. —He probably genuinely didn’t recognize me. The heavy stone hanging in my chest finally dropped. Sitting across from him, my eyes involuntarily drifted to those shocking, disfigured hands. The raised, hypertrophic burn scars stood out violently against his otherwise pale skin. My heart squeezed. The agonizing pain I had buried deep inside me flared up again. Years ago, a girl in our chemistry lab group made a reckless operational error that triggered a flash fire. Instantly, flames shot across the bench. Liam happened to be standing right next to me. With terrifyingly fast reflexes, he shielded my face with his hands. In the fraction of a second his hands caught the fire, massive patches of skin blistered into horrifying, raw red flesh. It was gruesome. Crying, I asked him why he did it. He looked down, gently wiping my tears away, his eyes completely sincere. “Because it was you. I’d do it a thousand times.” Those scars made me absolutely certain Liam was the one. Which is exactly why, on the day I broke up with him, I used those very scars to end it. The vicious words were still ringing in my ears. “Do you know… every time I look at those hands, it makes me sick to my stomach.” “I can’t stand looking at them for another second.” He probably hated my guts. The scars he took for me were rewarded with that vile, ungrateful face. … “Ms. Davis?” I didn’t realize when Liam had looked up, but his gaze was now locked firmly onto my face. “Yes, I’m here.” He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, noticing exactly where my eyes had been glued. “My hands won’t cause you any physiological discomfort, will they?” 03 I shook my head awkwardly. “No.” How could they? They only looked like that because he saved me. I loved them and ached for them. How could they ever make me feel sick? His lips curled up slightly, and he patiently explained: “That’s good. “Everyone’s physical tolerance is different, so I had to ask beforehand. “Have the complete blood count and bone marrow biopsies been done?” “Yes, they’re done.” “When was his last blood transfusion?” “Two months ago.” “What is your relationship with Jackson Smith?” Jackson was the mutual friend who had referred me to Liam. But what did that have to do with my dad’s medical condition? The answer died on my lips. I couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously. “Is that… medically relevant?” He gave me a calm, flat look. “Of course. It’s hospital policy.” He was the doctor. I was the patient’s family. Naturally, whatever he asked, I had to answer. “We went to college together.” Those pitch-black eyes suddenly locked onto me, scrutinizing, analyzing, as if trying to decipher something hidden. Before I could say anything else, he pulled out the medical files, instantly switching back to a strictly professional demeanor, and began explaining the treatment plan. A few minutes later, the office door suddenly opened. “Liam, what do you want for lunch?” 04 Behind that sweet, soft voice was an incredibly agreeable, soft-featured face. I barely even had to process it. I recognized her instantly. It was Emily Miller! She was the exact girl who caused the lab explosion. Luckily for her, she had been standing slightly further back and wasn’t badly hurt. What a ridiculously small world. She stared at me, too. Slowly, the smile on her face began to slip. A deep, magnetic voice instantly interrupted before Emily could blurt out my name. “Whatever you want. “Or we could just grab Thai food downstairs again. “Go ahead and book a table. I’ll be done here in a minute.” They spoke right over me. From this angle, I could clearly see the sharp line of Liam’s jaw, and… The soft, unguarded tenderness in his eyes. A tenderness that used to belong exclusively to me. In high school, Emily was in our class, but she wasn’t particularly close to me or Liam. During breaks, whenever I went to find Liam, Emily would be sitting in the row right behind him. I would always see her sitting quietly at her desk, entirely alone. Maybe she felt awkward and couldn’t figure out how to join our conversations. Sometimes, when we accidentally made eye contact, she would immediately look away. But now, the roles were completely reversed. I was the outsider. Before closing the door, Emily gave me one last look. Her expression had already returned to normal, and she gave a polite, detached nod. Once again, it was just me and Liam in the office. He naturally possessed an incredibly dominant, intimidating aura. The air in the room instantly felt suffocating. I lowered my eyes, resting my elbows nervously on the edge of the desk. Suddenly, a large shadow fell over me, blocking the overhead light. His broad chest leaned forward, closing the distance between us. Almost completely by reflex, I jerked backward in my chair, scrambling to put space between us. His outstretched hand froze in midair. His face turned to absolute ice. “What are you dodging?” 05 The contempt in his eyes was barely concealed. “Didn’t you just say you weren’t disgusted by my hands?” Saying that, he reached past me and picked up a pen that had rolled near my arm. I never expected Liam to have become this incredibly sensitive. Actually, after we broke up, I begged my dad to use his connections to find a specialist hospital for burn victims, hoping they could repair Liam’s hands. But by then, Liam already despised me. The mocking sneer he gave me that day is permanently burned into my memory. “I’m just a broken toy to you, aren’t I? Tossed in the trash the second I got damaged.” “Let me make this clear: I don’t give a damn about these hands.” “Stop trying to play the saint. It makes me sick.” I didn’t know if it was just my imagination. But for a split second, I felt absolutely certain that he had recognized me. … Once the consultation ended, Emily was already waiting by the door, having changed into her street clothes. She was wearing a tight knit dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Liam didn’t look at me again. He naturally reached out and took Emily’s purse for her. Walking down the hallway, they looked like a perfect match, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, looking incredibly intimate. Honestly, seeing him like this made me feel a profound sense of relief about the choice I made back then. If I hadn’t let him go, I might have completely ruined his life. “Hey! Spacing out over here?” “Come on, I’ll drive you home.” Jackson appeared out of nowhere, snapping his fingers right in front of my face and making me jump. His loud, booming voice echoed down the entire hospital corridor. Up ahead, that tall silhouette stopped walking and slowly turned his head to look at me. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway, his eyes were impossibly dark and unreadable. Before I could decipher whatever emotion was hiding in his gaze, a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder, forcefully spinning me around. “Let’s go.” I was half-shoved toward the elevators at the opposite end of the hall. 06 In the car, Jackson broke the silence. “So, how did it go regarding your dad’s case?” I didn’t answer. I just stared out the window into the dark night, watching the blurry shadows of trees speeding past. Liam’s words kept echoing in my head. “Given the extremely limited number of viable case studies, there is only one surgical option, and it carries massive risks.” “If it succeeds, it’s obviously a miracle. But if it fails, the condition will accelerate exponentially. He wouldn’t last a month.” A terrifying, high-stakes gamble with my father’s life. I simply couldn’t make that choice right now. “Hey! What are you doing?!” While I was drowning in misery, a heavy pair of hands suddenly landed on my head, violently messing up my hair. It was Jackson. Seeing me glaring and swatting at him like an angry cat, he grinned widely. “Just trying to boost your fighting spirit.” “You look like a wilted vegetable lately. When we get to my place to grab the supplements for your dad, make sure you take some for yourself too.” The only reason Jackson and I were such close friends was that we had both pulled each other out of total rock bottom. Our history started back in college, right after he went through a brutal breakup. His ex-girlfriend had started an internship and started attending high-end corporate galas with her boss. She was picked up in luxury cars every day. Suddenly, Jackson—who practically lived in loud Hawaiian shirts—wasn’t good enough for her anymore. She called him “immature.” Since he had genuinely loved her, it completely destroyed him to watch the girl he loved turn into someone unrecognizable. He got blackout drunk every single day. One night, he almost fell backward off the top of the stadium bleachers. Thankfully, I was right next to him. I grabbed his shirt, hauled him back, and slapped him as hard as I could across the face. “She’s already moved on with her life! Why the hell are you still standing here playing the tragic victim?!” Honestly, I was screaming those words at him… but I was also screaming them at myself. … After picking up the supplements, Jackson dragged me to a hot pot restaurant. He loved extremely spicy food, and by the end of the meal, my lips were completely swollen and burning. My apartment complex didn’t allow non-resident cars inside. Jackson was going to pull over at the main gate, but I told him not to bother. Just as I opened the passenger door, halfway out of the car, he grabbed me by the back of my collar and yanked me back. “It’s pouring rain out there and I don’t have an umbrella. Just put this over your head so you don’t get completely soaked.” I turned and looked at the Hawaiian shirt he was holding out. Right on the collar was a bright red lipstick stain. Who knows what girl left it there—he probably didn’t even know himself. I immediately waved my hands in disgust. “No thanks, I’ll just sprint. It’s fine.” He ignored me, threw the shirt over my head, and physically shoved me out of the car. “Stop being so picky. I’m throwing it away anyway. Take it home and tailor it into a raincoat or something.” Once I got out, I was actually secretly grateful. Thank God I had the shirt to cover me. The rain was much heavier than it sounded from inside the car. By the time I sprinted to my apartment lobby, the bottom half of my jeans was completely soaked. Even so, my footsteps slowed to a dead stop when I saw the completely drenched figure standing by the door. Those eyes, looking even darker and sharper in the shadows, were staring dead at me. He just stood there, motionless, letting the massive, freezing raindrops slide down his face. “Lia… Dr. Sterling? What are you doing here?” When I left the hospital, Liam’s eyes had already confirmed it: he absolutely knew who I was. Treating me like a complete stranger, letting go of the past, and moving on with our lives. That was probably the best possible outcome for both of us. The freezing rain did nothing to extinguish the furious fire in his eyes. His gaze swept over my messy hair, my swollen lips, and finally settled on my face with pure, absolute disgust and mockery. “Your father’s surgery isn’t even scheduled yet, and you’re already out screwing around.” “You really are something else, Chloe.” “What the hell did I do?” He completely ignored my question and continued speaking in a dangerously low voice. “Did you know the city blood bank is completely tapped out?” “Did you know about the hospital’s new policy? Before they authorize a transfusion, you have to provide proof of blood donation from five different people. Otherwise, they won’t release the blood. Did you know that?” “Even though your father is admitted to the hospital, if the blood bank supervisor doesn’t sign off, there is absolutely nothing I can do. Did you know that?!” I was completely stunned. Blood transfusions had never been this complicated before. Usually, the hospital just handled it internally. When did the policy change? He let out a bitter, mocking laugh that mixed with the sound of the pouring rain. “No, you didn’t know.” “Because you never take anything seriously.” In that moment, I couldn’t tell if he was condemning the person I was now, or the person I used to be. Maybe because he had been standing in the freezing rain for so long, his lips were completely pale. He looked utterly exhausted, incredibly weak. “Are you okay?” “Do you want to come upstairs and rest for a minute?” His face darkened instantly, his expression practically screaming: I’m not as easy and cheap as you are. He raised a hand, wiped the rain off his face, and violently threw a stack of small red booklets directly into my chest. Then he turned and walked away. I opened them. It was five certificates of blood donation. One of them had his name on it. So the reason he looked so pale and weak… was because… “Liam!” The man stumbled, swaying heavily to the side, and collapsed onto the wet concrete. 07 After dragging Liam upstairs and changing him into dry clothes, I rested my chin on my hands and watched him sleep. He had pale skin and incredibly striking, sharp features. He looked like an untouchable god, the kind of person everyone naturally favored. In high school, practically the entire student body knew… I was head over heels in love with Liam Sterling. His mother had a severe, chronic illness and required constant hospital treatments. The financial and emotional burden on him was crushing. So every single weekend, I would go to the hospital and help take care of her. Until Marcus appeared. He was a local street thug. First, he aggressively and publicly declared his love for me, then started stalking and verbally harassing me. When that didn’t work, he started targeting Liam. He even went to the hospital to harass Liam’s sick mother. I tried calling the police. But the most they could do was hold him for a few days. The second he got out, he went right back to terrorizing us. Marcus was a jobless delinquent with endless free time, and he took immense pleasure in making Liam’s life a living hell. Because of Marcus’s relentless harassment, Liam was constantly exhausted and distracted. His class ranking plummeted again and again. He started skipping classes. Before his old bruises could heal, he’d show up with new ones. Eventually, the school administration slapped Liam with a severe disciplinary mark for “engaging in violent street brawls.” By the time the news of the disciplinary action reached Liam’s mother, she was already incredibly frail, her eyes deeply sunken into her skull. Yet she still forced a warm smile and gently held my hand. “Liam hasn’t been focusing on his studies lately, has he?” “I don’t have much time left. If I could just see him get accepted into a top-tier university, I could die in peace.” “Chloe… you understand what I’m asking you, don’t you?” I gripped the hem of my school uniform so tightly my knuckles turned white. Slowly, I let go. Truthfully, she wasn’t the only one who had said things like that to me. My classmates whispered that I was a slut who lured in gang members, and that my drama was destroying Liam’s chances of getting a full-ride scholarship. Even our homeroom teacher pulled me aside for a “talk.” He told me that Liam had a brilliant future ahead of him, and begged me not to be the reason he ruined his life. Every single person around me was telling me exactly one thing: Stay away from Liam Sterling. The most paralyzing, suffocating part was… I couldn’t even argue back. Because on the surface, it really did look like I was the one who dragged Marcus into our lives. And because Marcus was jealous, he ripped Liam’s previously quiet, focused life to shreds. But back then, my teenage brain couldn’t comprehend it. I was a victim too. So why, in everyone else’s eyes, was I suddenly the villain? The crushing injustice and overwhelming pressure slowly ate away at my sanity. So, I chose the most extreme, cruel method to escape the rumors. … I was still drowning in my memories when a sharp clack snapped me back to reality. Something had rolled off the nightstand and hit the hardwood floor. I turned and saw that Liam’s car keys had slipped out of his pocket. And tucked underneath the keys was something else— A pair of matching promise rings. The rings that belonged to him and Emily. 08 When I woke up the next morning, Liam was already gone. The blanket on the bed had been folded into a perfect, crisp square. If it weren’t for the blood donation certificates still sitting on the counter, I would have convinced myself last night was just a hallucination. A few days later, I scheduled the blood transfusion with the hospital. Just as Liam had warned me, the bureaucratic process was an absolute nightmare. Even the nurse setting up my dad’s IV couldn’t help but complain. “Lately, the families of patients needing transfusions have been running themselves ragged trying to get approved. You’re the smoothest approval I’ve seen all month.” The image of Liam’s ghostly pale, exhausted face flashed in my mind again. When I went to his office to find him, he was resting his head on his desk, trying to take a nap. His brows were furrowed tightly, and a thin layer of cold sweat covered his forehead. Without thinking, I reached my hand out, wanting to smooth the crease between his brows. But remembering that he already had Emily, my hand froze in midair. Just as I was about to pull away, a vice-like grip violently clamped down on my wrist. Liam opened his eyes, staring at me with a dark, heavy intensity. “Do you need something?” He was gripping my wrist so hard it felt like he was trying to crush my bones. But a second later, as if he had just touched something disgusting, he violently threw my hand away and sat up straight. “Thank you for helping me last night.” He glanced at me, a cold, mocking smirk twisting his lips. “Help you?” “You seem to be confused.” “If any other patient had collapsed in front of me, I would have done the exact same thing.” … “Liam. I’m sorry.” A flash of absolute shock crossed his eyes. His dark pupils locked onto me as he spoke slowly. “Sorry for what?” “When we broke up… I never should have said those vicious things to you.” He didn’t speak. He just kept scrutinizing me, clearly waiting for me to finish. I hesitated for a second, then continued. “Your hands were burned because of me. I have always, always been grateful to you.” “I have never, ever felt disgusted or grossed out by them.” When I finished, dead silence filled the room. The air was so thick it was hard to breathe. “Are you done?” I thought about it carefully, then gave a firm nod. His face instantly turned completely black. With profound impatience, he looked away. “Get out.” I bit my lip and walked to the door. But right as I grabbed the handle, a surge of defiant frustration made me turn back. “Then tell me, what do I have to do for you to forgive me?” I watched as he looked up. In those dark eyes, a chaotic storm of emotions I couldn’t decipher violently swirled. “I want you to disappear from my life. Completely.” “Okay.” I answered cleanly and decisively. “Once my dad finishes his treatments, I’ll disappear.” He didn’t say another word, but his face somehow looked even more furious than before. The second I closed the door, I heard the violent, crashing sound of something heavy being hurled against the wall inside the office, shattering into pieces.

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My cold body knelt rigidly in the corner of the room. My head hung low. Even my heartbeat had faded away a long time ago. When Dad pushed the door open and saw me in this state, a satisfied smile spread across his face. He had no idea that it took every agonizing ounce of willpower I had left just to crawl back here. Hours ago, I had sneaked out of the house to follow him and that fake son of his to a dinner banquet. Hiding in the shadows of the grand hall, I overheard Dad chatting with his wealthy buddies. “That kid has been gunning for Toby since day one. Always throwing the ‘I’m your real blood’ card in his face. I was at my wit’s end.” “I had no choice but to send him to that underground AI obedience clinic. Just a little neural rewiring to make him a compliant, proper son. It is tough love, but it is for his own good.” Just as the words left his mouth, the remote control in Dad’s pocket vibrated. The screen flashed a warning indicating I was not in my bedroom. His face went pale with rage. He jabbed his thumb onto the screen, firing off an override command: [Return home immediately. Assume the kneeling punishment!] My body instantly hijacked itself. I sprinted toward the estate like a madman, my legs moving completely against my own will. On the dark road, a speeding car came out of nowhere. The impact launched me into the air, shattering my ribs and rupturing my organs. But the override command was absolute. I dragged my broken frame off the bleeding asphalt, stumbling forward, murmuring blindly into the night air. “I am sorry, Dad. I will go home to kneel. I am sorry.” And now, I was finally kneeling here in the dark, exactly as he wanted. 1 The entryway lights flickered on. Dad walked in holding Toby’s hand. His eyes landed on me, and his lips curled into an approving smirk. “Good boy. Glad to see you have learned your lesson.” I remained frozen in place, kneeling perfectly still. Toby wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Gross, Dad. He is covered in dirt. He looks like a homeless beggar.” Dad ruffled Toby’s hair, his voice softening instantly. “Do not be mean, buddy. Your brother knows he messed up. He is going to toe the line from now on.” He turned his cold gaze back to me, issuing his next vocal prompt. “Go up to your room and clean yourself up. Do not come out until I give you permission.” My neck gave a jerky, mechanical nod. I forced myself up and dragged my heavy feet up the stairs. During lunch the next day, the dining table was loaded with gourmet dishes. Dad kept piling food onto Toby’s plate, his tone dripping with affection. “Eat up, Toby. The salmon is good for your brain. And here are those BBQ ribs you love so much.” Toby chewed loudly, speaking with a mouthful of meat. “Thanks, Dad!” I sat rigidly in my chair, staring blankly ahead, waiting for Dad’s command. Dad glanced at me from the corner of his eye and muttered dryly. “Eat your greens. No being picky.” “Yes, Dad.” I picked up my fork, stabbed a pile of boiled spinach, and shoved it into my mouth. The vegetables had gone freezing cold. They felt like wet cardboard grinding against my teeth, but I could not stop. I chewed and swallowed, over and over again, like a machine on a loop. I did not put my fork down until Dad finally said, “Stop eating if you are full.” I immediately dropped the silverware and sat bolt upright. “Look at your brother, Toby. So obedient. Does not fuss over his food at all. You need to learn from him and finish your fish.” Dad tossed the words out casually. There was not a single ounce of actual praise in his voice. Toby scoffed, clearly annoyed by the comparison. He picked up his piping hot bowl of soup and shoved it across the table toward me. “Here, weirdo. You can have my soup.” Before I could even reach out, Toby deliberately tilted the bowl. Boiling hot broth splashed directly onto my forearm, soaking through my sleeve. “Wow, you are so clumsy! Can’t even hold a bowl right,” Toby sneered. A triumphant little smirk played on his lips. The scalding liquid blistered my skin, yet my face remained entirely blank. I did not flinch. I did not feel a thing. Dad quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe a stray drop off Toby’s fingers before turning to glare at me. “Ben, what is wrong with you? If you drop a bowl, you could burn your little brother! You are the older one here. You are supposed to protect him. Do you understand me?” I nodded my head in that same rhythmic, lifeless motion. “Understood, Dad. I will protect my brother.” Dad let out an exhausted sigh and called for Mr. Bates, our butler, telling him to take me upstairs to clean up the mess. I followed Bates into my bedroom. As he helped peel off my soup-soaked shirt, he gasped. He stared at my arms and back, horrified by the massive, dark purple blotches blooming across my skin. “Ben, sweet heavens… how did you get these bruises? This looks incredibly severe.” I just stood there, staring at the wallpaper with hollow, unblinking eyes. Bates asked me three more times. When my vocal box did not register a command to reply, he shook his head in distress and hurried downstairs to find Dad. “Sir, Ben’s body is covered in massive purple contusions. I don’t know what happened to the poor boy, and he absolutely refuses to speak.” Dad was busy peeling an orange for Toby. He rolled his eyes, utterly unbothered. “Where do you think he got them? He probably tripped and fell into a ditch when he snuck out yesterday. Leave him be. The pain will teach him a lesson so he stops running off like a stray dog.” Bates opened his mouth to argue, but Dad silenced him with a lethal glare. “Enough. Go back to your duties. Stop babying him.” After the butler left, a brief shadow of doubt crossed Dad’s face. He remembered last night. Shortly after he sent the punishment override, his control app had vibrated violently. A bright red error message had popped up on the screen, reading: [Subject is experiencing critical trauma. Vitals failing. System initiating emergency reboot.] It had freaked him out for a split second. But when he got home and saw me kneeling perfectly fine in the hallway, he assumed the underground clinic’s app was just glitchy. Thinking about Bates’s nagging only irritated him further. “Ungrateful little brat. I paid top dollar to have him fixed, and he still tries to run away.” Later that night, Dad walked up to my bedroom door and delivered his evening command. “No sleeping tonight. Stand facing the door and reflect on your pathetic attempt to escape. Think about what you did wrong.” I nodded, shuffled over to the heavy oak door, and stood perfectly straight. I did not move a single muscle for the rest of the night. When Dad woke up the next morning and saw me standing in the exact same spot, holding the exact same posture, a look of deep satisfaction washed over him. “Now that is more like it. You are actually tolerable when you listen. Try to rebel again, and the punishment will be twice as harsh.” 2 The Sunday afternoon sun was bright and warm. Dad had invited a few of his country club friends over for drinks. They were gathered around the patio furniture by the garden, laughing loudly with cigars in hand. Dad snapped his fingers, gesturing for me to come over. “Go play with Toby. Protect your brother. Do not let him get a single scratch on him. You hear me?” “I hear you.” My voice scraped out mechanically. I walked over to the lawn and trailed a few steps behind Toby, shadowing him like a silent ghost. Toby ran over to the edge of the large decorative koi pond. He leaned over the slippery stone border, standing on his tiptoes to peer into the deep water. “There is a shiny rock down there! I’m gonna get it!” I said nothing. I just stood rooted to the grass, eyes locked onto his frame, my internal hardware running the ‘protect’ directive on an endless loop. Suddenly, Toby’s foot slipped on wet moss. He shrieked, tumbling backward into the deep end of the pond. The water was over his head. He thrashed wildly, swallowing mouthfuls of dirty water. “Dad! Help! Help me!” My body reacted with terrifying speed. Without a single second of hesitation, I launched myself into the freezing water. The icy chill soaked through my clothes, but my nerve endings registered zero temperature. I grabbed Toby by the collar, kicking my legs to violently shove him up onto the stone ledge. Dad and his friends rushed over just in time to see me pushing a coughing Toby onto the grass. Once we were both dripping wet on the patio, Dad’s friends began patting him on the back. “Michael, your eldest boy is a brave one! Diving in like that without a second thought. You really know how to raise a man.” “Absolutely. So young, but he already knows how to step up and protect his family.” Dad puffed out his chest, hiding his smugness behind a fake, humble smile. “Oh, please. It is just basic instinct. They are good boys. Bates! Get them upstairs for a hot shower before they catch a cold.” By dinner time, the guests had cleared out. Dad stormed into my bedroom. Without a word of warning, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face. The sharp crack echoed loudly against the walls. My head snapped to the side from the sheer force of the blow, but the burning sting of the strike never reached my brain. “Who gave you permission to let him play near the deep water?” Dad roared, his face flushed with pure rage. “Did you do that on purpose? Were you trying to drown him to get him out of the picture? You are lucky Toby is fine, or I swear to God I would end you!” He raised his hand, fully intending to strike me again. But the moment his knuckles brushed against my cheek, he recoiled. He looked at his own hand in confusion. “Why is your skin so freezing? You feel like a block of solid ice. Did you catch a fever or something?” I offered no response. I just slowly turned my head back, staring at him with hollow, dead eyes. “Useless trash. You can’t even regulate your own body temperature, let alone protect your brother.” Dad sneered, wiping his hand on his trousers like I was diseased. “No dinner for you tonight. Stay in this room and think about how badly you failed today!” “Understood, Dad.” Toby was peeking through the crack in the doorway. Seeing me get berated brought a wicked little smile to his face. He tugged at Dad’s sleeve, playing the innocent angel. “Dad, please don’t be mad. Ben didn’t mean it. I forgive him.” Dad’s furious expression melted instantly. He crouched down and kissed Toby’s forehead, his voice dripping with honey. “Oh, my sweet Toby. You are too good for this world. Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ll have the chef bake those chocolate lava cakes you love.” Dad took Toby’s hand, turning his back on me completely. He shut the door without a second glance. I stood completely still in the center of the room. After a full minute of silence, my heels pivoted mechanically. I walked into the dark corner of the room, assuming my standby position, quietly waiting for his next command. 3 The next morning, Dad’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. He picked it up, his voice immediately shifting into a loving purr. “Hey, honey. How is the business trip going?” Mom’s gentle voice drifted through the speaker. “It is going well. I just miss my boys so much. How is Ben doing? Has he adjusted to being home yet?” Dad glanced over at me, a fake smile plastered across his face. “Ben is an angel. Completely obedient. He dropped all that teenage angst and even keeps Toby company while he does his homework. Such a mature kid now.” He held up his phone, snapping a picture of me sitting rigidly beside Toby at the study desk. He texted it to her. “See for yourself. Two brothers bonding over math problems.” Hearing Mom’s voice, Toby dropped his pencil and rushed over to the phone. “Mom! I miss you! When are you coming back?” Mom chuckled warmly on the other end. “My sweet boy. I miss you too. I will be home in a week, and I promise to bring you and your brother some amazing gifts.” Dad shoved the phone near my mouth, dropping his voice into a hushed command. “Say hi to Mom.” “Hi, Mom.” I spoke mechanically. My pitch was entirely flat, devoid of any warmth or joy. Mom paused. A trace of worry crept into her tone. “Is Ben okay? He sounds exhausted, and he looks incredibly pale in that photo. Is he sick?” Dad snatched the phone back, laughing nervously to cover his tracks. “Oh, you know kids. He kicked his blankets off last night and caught a minor cold. I already gave him some meds. He will be totally fine by tomorrow. Do not stress yourself out.” “Okay, good. Make sure you take care of them, Michael. Don’t let my boys get sick.” “I got it, babe. Focus on your meetings. Love you.” The second the call ended, Dad’s warm smile vanished. He glared at me, his eyes full of venom. “Next time your mother calls, you better act like you have a pulse. Stop giving me that miserable dead-fish look.” “Understood.” Ever since Mom’s phone call, Toby’s malice toward me escalated dramatically. He would rip pages out of my textbooks and scatter them across the hallway floor. He would dump my expensive pens into the trash can, stomping on them for good measure. When Dad saw the mess, he just shrugged it off. “Toby is just a kid. He is playful. You are the older brother. Just clean it up.” Following the standing directive, I crouched on the floor, picking up the shredded paper and fishing broken plastic out of the garbage. The jagged edge of a ripped textbook sliced deep into my index finger. Dark, thick blood dripped onto the hardwood floor, but my face did not twitch. I just kept sorting the trash, moving my bleeding hand with rhythmic precision. I did not stop until the desk was perfectly organized. Then, I sat back down in my chair, staring blankly at the wall. As the days dragged on, I became nothing more than a puppet wired to Dad’s voice. If he did not give me a command, I would sit in the exact same posture for hours. I did not fidget. I did not blink. Even the sound of my breathing faded away into nothingness. One night, Bates woke up to get a glass of water. He walked past my room and saw me standing in the dead center of the floor, wide awake, staring into the dark. First thing the next morning, the butler confronted Dad. “Sir, something is terribly wrong with Ben. He does not speak unless spoken to. He barely moves. Last night, he did not even sleep; he just stood in his room staring at the wall. Did that obedience camp do some sort of psychological damage to him?” Dad was shaving by the sink. He wiped the foam off his chin, completely unconcerned. “That is the whole point of the program, Bates. He is quiet. He follows orders. He stops causing drama in my house.” “But sir—” “I pay you to clean my house, not to play doctor,” Dad snapped, pointing his razor at the old man. “Do your job and stop obsessing over him. You are forbidden from giving him any special treatment. Am I clear?” Bates swallowed hard, his eyes full of sorrow. He bowed his head and quietly left the bathroom. At dinner, I sat at the table, my jaw moving up and down in a stiff, unnatural rhythm as I chewed my boiled spinach. Dad suddenly spoke, issuing a new directive. “Wake up early tomorrow. Accompany Toby to his piano lesson. Do you hear me?” “I hear you.” I nodded slowly, returning to my mechanical chewing. No one at the table noticed that the beds of my fingernails had already turned a sickly, bruised blue.

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For him, I rejected an arranged marriage with my childhood best friend. But he just said: “You think I’m an animal? Why would I like you?” “I’m your uncle.” I asked him, “But we aren’t even related by blood.” He let out a cold scoff, cutting me off. “Do you really need me to say it bluntly? I don’t like you.” Later, I died in a car crash on the very day he got engaged to someone else. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my childhood friend proposed the arranged marriage. In front of everyone, I nodded and agreed. But the man who was usually so careless and indifferent suddenly lost his mind. 01 “Marriage is a huge milestone. It just so happens that Chloe’s uncle, Logan, has returned from abroad and will be here shortly. We should hear his thoughts too.” At those words, my head snapped up and I looked at my grandmother. Logan Sterling came back early? I remembered my past life incredibly clearly. My grandmother had only called Logan to ask for his opinion. And that man had rejected it with his usual, chillingly indifferent tone. “The New York branch is too busy, I can’t make it back.” “Whoever she marries has nothing to do with me.” But this time… why was it different? The next second, the sound of the private dining room door opening pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up, making eye contact across the room with the travel-worn man standing in the doorway. 02 “Logan, what are your thoughts on Chloe marrying into the Miller family?” Perhaps because I couldn’t bear to hear Logan’s piercing sarcasm again, I immediately cut my grandmother off. “Grandma, I’m an adult now. I can make these kinds of decisions for myself.” The man across the table let out a soft laugh, his long fingers casually tapping against the tabletop. “Then let’s hear what she has to say.” Under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, I took a deep breath. My tone was absolute. “I am willing to marry Ethan.” Ethan Miller was the childhood best friend I grew up with. The moment the words left my mouth, the tapping of fingers against the table abruptly stopped. Logan stared at me, unblinking. My grandmother spoke up right on cue: “Well, since you also like your dear Ethan, I won’t stand in the way.” I ignored Logan’s intense gaze and nodded politely to my grandmother and the other elders. “Ethan just texted me that he’s waiting outside. I’ll take my leave first.” “Stop.” Logan, who had been dead silent, suddenly spoke. Ignoring the strange looks from everyone else, he walked straight up to me. He looked down into my eyes. “Do you even like him? And you’re just going to marry him?” My voice was flat. “Whether I like him right now isn’t important.” “Uncle Logan, even if I don’t have romantic feelings for him right now, we have a lifetime to build them. After all, we’ll be husband and wife soon.” Logan narrowed his eyes, his tone dangerously low. “What did you just call me?” Back when I was in love with Logan, I had always called him by his full name. This was the first time I had ever called him ‘Uncle Logan.’ He let out a sharp, angry laugh. Completely ignoring the elders in the room, he grabbed my arm and dragged me out. “Let go of me!” I was dragged all the way to the parking garage. Logan sneered, his grip iron-tight. “Let you go so you can run to your little fiancé?” I found his reaction completely bizarre. “Even if I did, that’s none of your business, Uncle Logan.” I deliberately put heavy emphasis on the last two words. Hearing that, Logan actually stopped in his tracks. His jaw clenched tight. He lit a cigarette, seemingly trying to calm himself down. “Either you get in the car with me right now so we can talk.” “Or I go straight to your precious Ethan and talk to him.” I didn’t know if it was just my imagination, but it felt like Logan’s temper was significantly worse in this lifetime. Eventually, I got into his car. 03 “You are not marrying Ethan.” Logan stared straight ahead at the steering wheel, his tone leaving absolutely zero room for argument. I gave a dry laugh and was just about to argue back… When someone knocked on the driver’s side window. This was a public parking garage underneath a massive shopping mall. “Logan? Are you here shopping too?” The exquisitely dressed woman standing outside was Logan’s fiancée from my past life—Victoria. But at this point in the timeline, she hadn’t officially met me yet. Her gaze shifted past Logan, looking at me with hesitation. “And who is this…?” I met her gaze openly and gave a polite smile. “He’s my uncle.” “Miss, did you want to speak with my uncle privately? I can leave.” As I spoke, I reached to unbuckle my seatbelt. Victoria’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “Thank you so much.” Logan’s abnormal behavior earlier had me slightly dazed, but Victoria’s appearance instantly snapped me back to reality. This was Logan’s destined leading lady. “Who said you could leave?” With a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, Logan grabbed my wrist, stopping my movement. I reflexively looked up at him. Suddenly, my entire world flipped upside down. Logan had effortlessly pulled me across the center console and directly onto his lap. He lifted a hand to trace the side of my face, his warm palm sliding down to cup my chin. His smile was lazy and dangerous. “What is this? Are we roleplaying ‘uncle and niece’ now?” The man leaned down, his breath ghosting over my jawline. His deep voice was thick with heavy, undeniable intimacy. “Little niece, I didn’t know you had this kind of kink.” I completely froze. My mind went blank, leaving me utterly speechless as I let Logan spin this insane lie. Only then did he casually glance out the window at the petrified Victoria. “Did you need something, Miss Victoria?” “Does it have to be right now? As you can see, I’m a bit tied up.” Saying that, he kept me firmly on his lap and reached down to recline the driver’s seat. The implication couldn’t have been more blatant. Victoria’s face drained of color, and she took two steps back. “Logan… how could you be holding another woman… you know I love you…” Logan turned his head and scoffed. He seemed to find her words utterly ridiculous. “Listen to me, Victoria. You liking me has absolutely nothing to do with me.” “Stop buzzing around me like an annoying fly. Please.” He put heavy emphasis on the “please,” putting his intense disgust for her on full, public display. I finally snapped out of my daze. This was very wrong. Even if Logan absolutely loathed a woman, he would never intentionally humiliate her so brutally in public. Especially not the woman who had been his fiancée in his past life. While I was trying to process this, Victoria had already turned and run away in tears. “Uncle Logan, can you let me go now?” I just assumed he was using me as a human shield. Logan’s phone suddenly started ringing. He didn’t let go of me. In fact, his arm tightened around my waist as he used his free hand to answer the call. My grandmother’s voice came through the speaker: “Logan? What’s going on with you and Chloe? Where did you take her?” Logan didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he glanced down at me, slowly raising one eyebrow. “What did you just say? You want to get off my lap?” I instantly held my breath and frantically shook my head at him. Don’t you dare say that to her. My grandmother didn’t hear him clearly. “What did you say?” Logan stayed silent, just watching me with a highly amused, predatory look. I squeezed my eyes shut, gritted my teeth, and leaned my upper body fully against his chest, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Logan instantly wrapped both arms around me. “Nothing, Mom.” “Chloe and I just had some private matters to resolve.” My grandmother didn’t pry any further. She gave a few passing instructions and hung up the phone. The air inside the car instantly went dead silent. Logan clamped a hand down, stopping me from pulling away. He leaned close to my ear. “This is the reason you cannot marry Ethan.” I tilted my head up slightly, looking straight into his eyes. “But you told me yourself… you don’t like me.” Logan turned his head, clicking his tongue lightly. “I never said such absolute garbage.” He absolutely did. I refused to believe him. Struggling awkwardly, I climbed off his lap and back into the passenger seat, reaching for the door handle. But the next second, the engine roared to life, and he locked the doors. 04 I rested my elbow on the window frame, bored out of my mind, counting the cars zooming past us on the highway. I was deep in thought, trying to analyze Logan’s incredibly bizarre behavior. Suddenly, the car slammed on the brakes. The momentum threw me forward against my seatbelt. A sleek black Porsche Cayenne had cut us off, blocking our path. Ethan stepped out of the car. His face was completely ice-cold. “Chloe, get out. I’m taking you home.” I reflexively glanced at Logan. His thumb was casually tapping the steering wheel as he stared at the young man outside with deep amusement. “Did you call him?” “No…” Out of nowhere, an intense, suffocating aura filled the car. Logan lit a cigarette, holding it between his teeth, and let out a dark chuckle. “Well, your little fiancé tracked us down. I can’t just pretend he isn’t there.” Saying that, he kicked his door open and stepped out, making sure to lock my door from the outside. In the freezing evening wind, the two men stood facing each other. “Please let Chloe out of the car.” “I’m not letting her out. What are you going to do about it?” Ethan didn’t waste time arguing. He walked straight toward my passenger door. But the second he got close, Logan grabbed him by the arm. Ethan was slightly shorter and less built than Logan. He was instantly overpowered. Logan shoved him backward, slamming him hard against the hood of the Porsche. His hand clamped viciously around Ethan’s throat. “What do you want to do to Chloe?” Ethan choked out, struggling to breathe. Taking his time, Logan used his free hand to flick the ash off his cigarette, then casually crushed the butt out against the hood of Ethan’s expensive car. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough before. Stay the hell away from her.” “This is your final warning. She is mine.” “She belongs to herself!” Ethan spat out, syllable by syllable. Logan let out a low laugh, his fingers tightening their crushing grip on Ethan’s throat. I finally found the spare key fob tucked in the center console. I unlocked the door and frantically scrambled out. “Uncle Logan, let him go!” I shouted, trying to pry his iron-like fingers off Ethan’s neck. But the man wouldn’t budge an inch. Ethan was starting to lose consciousness. In a panic, I did the only thing I could think of—I bit down hard on Logan’s wrist. He finally let go. I quickly helped Ethan stand up. “Does your heart really ache for him that much?” Logan’s voice came from behind me, completely stripped of any emotion. “I’m bleeding too. Can’t you see that? Hmm?” I froze. Just as I turned my head, he violently scooped me up into his arms. He threw me into the back seat of his car. He climbed into the driver’s seat immediately. Just as he was about to hit the gas, I started struggling wildly. “What are you doing, Logan?! Can’t you see Ethan is already—” The engine revved with a deep, furious roar. Logan held the steering wheel with one hand, letting out a lazy, chilling laugh. “Do you want to bet? Mention his name one more time, and I will drive this car straight over him.” Through the rearview mirror, my eyes met Logan’s. In the shadows of the back seat, my hands gripped the leather upholstery tight. “Logan, murder is a felony.” “Are you completely legally illiterate?” Logan leaned back casually against the headrest, his eyes brimming with dark amusement. “You make a fair point. So I’ll just drive over his legs instead. How does that sound?” “The Miller family has more than one son. Not to mention, Ethan’s father is currently begging my company for a massive joint venture.” “Tell me, does the Miller family want a project that will solidify their entire corporate empire… or do they want their son to keep his legs?” He laid out the ruthless reality right in front of me, forcing me to make a choice. I couldn’t abandon Ethan. In my past life, when everyone called me a shameless disgrace for falling in love with my adoptive uncle, Ethan was the only one who defended me, time and time again. “Uncle Logan. I’m sorry.” In this completely rigged game, I had no choice but to surrender. Logan didn’t move. The front of his car was still aimed dead center at Ethan. “Mhm. So how are you going to behave from now on?” I lowered my eyes, my voice barely a whisper. “I won’t contact him anymore.” Logan’s tone softened slightly. “Get in the front seat.” I obediently did as I was told. The man leaned over me, pulling the seatbelt across my chest and clicking it into place. The pad of his thumb gently rubbed my earlobe. “Such a good girl.” Only then did Logan put the car in drive and pull away. I gripped my seatbelt tightly, staring straight ahead. Acting as if I couldn’t hear Ethan screaming my name as we drove off into the night. 05 Logan took me back to his sprawling mansion in the suburbs. I stood numbly in the foyer, watching him walk over to his liquor cabinet, pour himself a glass of whiskey, and down it in one gulp. He crunched on an ice cube and looked up at me. “Why the long face?” The sound of him crushing the ice, combined with his slow, predatory steps toward me, made me shudder involuntarily. Logan stopped right in front of me, staring intensely into my eyes. “Because of Ethan?” “What exactly do you want?” My voice betrayed a slight tremor, thick with unshed tears. “Chloe, stop playing dumb with me.” I sniffled. “Logan, if you really like me, why do you have to force me into a corner like this?” Logan didn’t seem to think he was doing anything wrong at all. He gently ruffled my hair. “Because you aren’t being obedient enough.” Every argument I had prepared died in my throat. When my grandmother called Logan’s phone again, I couldn’t help but let out a massive sigh of relief. The only person who could possibly save me had finally called. “Logan, when are you going to come over? We need to finalize the details of Chloe’s wedding.” Logan looked down at me with heavy-lidded eyes, his tone completely nonchalant. “I almost forgot to tell you.” “Tell me what?” “Chloe’s wedding is canceled.” My eyes widened in absolute shock. My grandmother sounded incredibly confused. “What? Why?” I had a terrible feeling. Logan kept his eyes locked on me, but his words were spoken into the phone. He dragged out his words, but his tone was absolute and undeniable. “Because she is going to marry me.” “From now on, I suggest you stay out of my business with her.” With that, he hung up the phone. “Logan, are you completely insane?” I felt like I was at the absolute breaking point. “Why would you say that garbage to Grandma?! Are you trying to kill me?!” Logan tossed his phone onto the coffee table, reached down, and scooped me up into his arms. A second later, he dropped me onto the sofa, pressing his body over mine. He was so close I could feel the heat of his breath. “Weren’t you the one who said it? You love me. You only want to marry me.” I couldn’t break free from his grip, so I turned my head away. “That was in the past.” Logan grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Then learn to love me again.” “Chloe, as long as you stay obediently by my side, I have all the time in the world to wait.” His gaze dropped down to the side of my neck. He leaned in. The next second, I felt his lips press against my skin. My entire body went rigid. And Logan showed no signs of stopping. “Don’t…” I struggled to find my voice. The man paused. After a long moment, he used his arms to push himself up slightly, hovering just above me. “Uncle Logan, can you please just let this go…” Logan kept smiling, but his eyes were filled with ice. He placed a single fingertip against my lips, tracing them gently. The silent threat was deafening. The rest of the words died in my throat, swallowed down in terror. 06 While Logan was still hovering over me, the heavy front doors were suddenly shoved open. A sliver of bright light flooded the room, making me squint. “What the hell are you doing?!” Victoria stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and bloodshot with rage. Logan’s expression darkened instantly. He stood up. “You tracked me?” “If I didn’t track you, would I have seen this?!” The veins on her forehead bulged visibly. “She seduced you, didn’t she, Logan?” “Tell me that’s what happened. Tell me it’s true!” Victoria’s eyes burned with sheer, unhinged madness. Logan didn’t say a word. He just picked up his phone to call estate security. Taking advantage of the distraction, Victoria suddenly lunged forward. Before I could even process what was happening, she pulled a hidden razor blade from her pocket and slashed it directly at my face. I didn’t have time to dodge. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the searing pain I expected never came. “Logan…” I opened my eyes. Logan’s forearm was thrown up, blocking the blade. Bright red blood poured from the deep gash, dripping one drop at a time onto my jeans, blooming into dark stains. Logan didn’t even flinch. He grabbed Victoria’s arm and violently twisted it backward. The razor blade in her hand was forced upward, pressing directly against her own throat. “Why are you so pathetic, huh?” “A few hours ago, I rejected you to your face, and you still tracked me down like a stalker.” “Is it a crime for me to love you?!” Victoria was forced to step backward under his crushing grip. The razor blade was pressing hard enough to leave a bloody line on her neck. “You’re about to find out exactly how much of a crime it is.” Logan gave a dark, cruel laugh and threw her aside. I could hear the sound of heavy boots running toward us. Security arrived, apologizing profusely as they dragged Victoria away. She looked completely deranged, sobbing hysterically while staring at Logan. “Did she scare you?” Logan dropped his usual careless, arrogant demeanor. He looked incredibly serious. “Did she manage to cut you?” I stared blankly at the man kneeling in front of me, looking so deeply worried. I spoke slowly, my voice dull. “You’re the one who got stabbed.” It was as if he hadn’t even noticed his own wound until I pointed it out. … Half an hour later, the private doctor finished wrapping the wound and left. I opened my mouth, my emotions an absolute tangled mess. “Thank you. Uncle Logan.” The deep gash on his arm didn’t seem to bother him at all. He pulled out a cigarette, held it between his lips, and lit it. His voice carried a slow, mocking smile. “You already hate me enough as it is. If you got scarred because of me, you’d despise me for the rest of your life.” “How could I possibly give you that excuse?” I ignored his twisted, backwards logic. I just stared at the white bandages on his arm, and memories from the past came rushing back. The only reason I had fallen in love with Logan in the first place was because he was so incredibly good to me. When I was in high school, a group of local thugs kept cornering me to deliver love letters. Logan waited outside my school for a week, tracked them down in an alley, and beat them so badly they never looked at me again. In college, when a corrupt professor gave my hard-earned scholarship to a wealthy donor’s kid, Logan didn’t say, “It’s not that much money anyway, I’ll just give you ten times that.” Instead, he personally went to the university board, exposed the corruption, and made sure I got my scholarship back. The atmosphere in the room had finally softened. I was just about to use the moment to beg him to let me go… When I accidentally glanced at his phone sitting on the coffee table. The screen was lighting up with rapid notifications. “Ethan: Chloe, I just got home and fixed my phone. Are you okay?” “Ethan: Logan just announced to the press that you two are getting married. He forced you into this, didn’t he?” Logan had already announced it…? I had assumed he was just saying it to shut my grandmother up. I mechanically turned to look at the man sitting next to me. “Logan, what are you doing?” He didn’t even look up from his phone, answering casually. “Talking to the wedding planners.” “When did I ever agree to marry you?” The white light of his phone screen illuminated his face. He stopped typing. He waited until the screen automatically went black before tossing the phone aside and stepping closer to me. “From the moment you agreed to marry Ethan today, I lost all my patience.” “Stop testing me, Chloe.” “We are the only two people in this entire mansion. You really don’t want me to accelerate this process, do you?” His gentle tone masked the most lethal, terrifying warning. I think… it was exactly in that moment. Every last ounce of affection I had ever felt for him turned to ash.

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1 I stood frozen outside the breakroom. Blood still seeped through the gauze on my cheek, but the tears fell faster. Roger’s voice carried through the door, cold and clinical. It was a blade that cut apart every shred of faith I had clung to for three years. “The moment I paid her mother’s hospital bills, I started the clock,” he said. His tone was unrecognizable from the man who once swore he loved me. “Jona needs that overseas commendation. Bianca is tough. And she is naive enough to take the blame.” So that was it. I was not a partner. I was a tool. A stepping stone. “Once she returns, I will convince her to transfer her combat medic merits to Jona. In exchange, I marry Bianca. It is a fair trade.” Fair? I spent three years dodging shrapnel, stitching wounds, bleeding for that commendation, all to clear a path for his favorite colleague. That was his idea of fair. His colleague slammed his coffee mug down and stormed out. He froze when he saw me in the hallway. Roger looked up. His eyes met mine, and his pupils tightened. My mind shot back three years. He had held my hands, looked into my eyes, and told me he loved me. But he said I had to serve three years as a combat surgeon to prove my devotion. Come back, and I will marry you. For three years, bullets grazed my head. Mortar fire damaged my hearing. I operated with insurgent rifles at my back. Every time I was near death, I told myself it would be worth it. Survive, and I could marry Roger. Everyone knew Roger was a genius with severe affective detachment. He could not feel emotions. But during the darkest year of my life, he took out his checkbook and operated on my dying mother himself. I thought he was my savior. I did not know he was leading me into another hell. “Roger, we are done.” My voice was terrifyingly calm. It felt as if those three words had drained the last life from my veins. … Roger frowned, clearly annoyed by the interruption. “Bianca, eavesdropping is incredibly unprofessional.” He stood up, adjusting his pristine white coat. “But since you heard it, it saves me the trouble of drafting a cover story. Come to the chief of surgery’s office with me this afternoon and sign the merit transfer over to Jona. Tomorrow morning, we go to the courthouse and get married.” I stood perfectly still, staring directly into his eyes. There was absolutely no warmth there. Just a barren, calculated wasteland. He didn’t even have the basic human decency to look guilty about getting caught in a lie. The veil finally dropped. He wasn’t terrified of losing me. He never loved me at all. “Let me repeat myself, Roger. We are breaking up.” “I am not giving my commendations to Jona. And I am absolutely not marrying you.” I spun on my heel and walked away. Roger lunged forward, his long fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. I could hear the forced patience in his voice, masking a bubbling irritation. “Bianca, stop being irrational.” “You serve three years in a combat zone, and I marry you when you get back. That was the transaction we agreed upon from day one. Why are you suddenly backing out of the deal?” A transaction. The love I had literally risked my life to prove was just a line item on a ledger to him. I looked back at him, a bitter, broken smile twisting my lips. “Because you lied to me.” Roger blinked, genuine confusion washing over his handsome face. “You told me you loved me,” I whispered. “I would never put my life on the line for a man who was just using me.” He stared at me, totally lost. His emotional detachment meant the concept of “love” was like a foreign language he had never bothered to study. But for some reason, hearing me say those words made his chest tighten. His gaze flicked down to the fresh, bloody scrape on my cheek and my red, swollen eyes. A strange, suffocating pressure built in his lungs. He honestly wondered if he needed to schedule a psych evaluation. Something inside him felt medically wrong. While he was distracted, I ripped my arm out of his grip and kept walking. I hadn’t even made it past the outpatient corner when a chaotic scream ripped through the corridor. Before I could process what was happening, a hysterical middle-aged woman tackled a nurse against the drywall. She had a hunting knife pressed tight against the nurse’s carotid artery, twisting a fistful of her hair. “You worthless bitch! You gave me the wrong meds and killed my baby! You’re paying for my child’s life with yours!” I recognized the sobbing nurse instantly. It was Jona. Instinct overrode my trauma. My combat training kicked in, and I took a slow, calculated step forward to de-escalate. “Ma’am, I need you to breathe. Look at me.” “Do you know who I am? My name is Dr. Bianca. I’m a combat surgeon, you might have seen me on the local news. Just lower the knife, and we can figure this out.” The woman locked her wild eyes on me for a few agonizing seconds. She seemed to recognize my face. She pulled the blade a fraction of an inch away from Jona’s throat, swinging it erratically in my direction. “Figure what out?!” she shrieked. “Do you know how many rounds of IVF I went through?! I finally got pregnant, and this stupid slut mixed up my prescription! My baby is gone! And she had the nerve to tell me I was just genetically defective and deserved the miscarriage!” I took a deep, steadying breath, closing the distance inch by inch. “She was entirely out of line, and I am so sorry she said that to you. Listen to me. I went to med school with one of the best fertility specialists in the country. Her success rates are incredible. I will personally introduce you to her. You’re still young. You have so much hope left to start a family.” The woman’s crazed expression wavered. The hand gripping the knife began to tremble. She was breaking down. She was just about to drop the weapon. Suddenly, two hands slammed violently into the center of my back. I was shoved hard, launching directly into the woman. The sickening sound of tearing flesh filled my ears. The hunting knife buried itself straight to the hilt in my abdomen. Agony exploded through my nervous system like a live wire. The waiting room erupted into terrified shrieks. The grieving mother went pale, dropping the handle of the knife like it burned her. Hospital security rushed in, tackling her to the linoleum. Hot, thick blood pulsed out of my stomach, pooling rapidly onto the pristine white tiles. I clamped both hands over the wound, fighting the darkness closing in on my vision, and weakly turned my head to see who pushed me. It was Roger. He was the one who threw me onto the blade. 2 My vision blurred, but the sheer disbelief anchored me to consciousness. Roger was standing at the edge of the crowd. He looked down at me, doing a rapid, clinical visual assessment of my blood loss to calculate if the wound was fatal. Once he was satisfied I wasn’t bleeding out fast enough to die on the spot, his face went completely blank. He wrapped a protective arm around a trembling, crying Jona and walked away. I collapsed into the growing puddle of my own blood and let the darkness take me. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh scent of antiseptic and sweet fruit filled my nose. I was in a private recovery suite. Roger was sitting in a chair beside my bed, meticulously peeling an apple with a surgical scalpel. “You’re awake,” he said smoothly. “I apologize. My psychiatrist informed me that my actions in the lobby were socially unacceptable.” “He said I shouldn’t have based my decision purely on the triage of survival probabilities. But looking at the variables, if that woman twitched, Jona’s carotid artery would have been severed. Immediate exsanguination. Zero chance of survival. By pushing you into the blade, I ensured you took the hit to the lower abdomen. Highly painful, but statistically non-lethal.” He finished the peel in one continuous ribbon and offered the apple to me. “From a purely mathematical standpoint, I made the correct choice.” “Let’s renegotiate our deal, Bianca.” I didn’t take the fruit. I slowly turned my head to stare at the wall. “Get the hell out of my room,” I rasped. Roger paused, clearly confused by my hostility. He tried again. “I recognize that your emotional state is volatile right now. Fine. You can keep your combat commendations. Consider this a trade for saving Jona’s life today.” “We’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow.” Another transaction. He was bargaining with my life like I was a used car on a lot. A wave of absolute, sickening revulsion crashed over me. I pushed through the searing pain in my stitches, threw my torso forward, and swung my arm. Crack. My palm connected violently with his cheek. But when I opened my mouth, a pathetic, broken sob tore out of my throat instead of a scream. “Stop treating me like an animal, Roger!” “You’re a brilliant surgeon! You know the anatomy! The blade missed my inferior vena cava by literally a fraction of an inch! If it had severed that vein, the mortality rate is one hundred percent!” “What if I had died right there on the floor?!” Roger froze entirely. For the absolute first time in my life, I saw something fracture behind his eyes. It was raw, unadulterated terror. He slowly lowered his head, his voice dropping to a hollow, tight whisper. “I’m sorry. I’ll take my cognitive therapy more seriously. I will learn how to protect you properly.” “Just… please don’t die, Bianca.” The room fell into a suffocating, heavy silence. When he realized I wasn’t going to look at him or speak another word, he set the apple on the nightstand and quietly walked out of the room. A second later, my phone buzzed on the table. I answered it. A deep, steady voice came through the speaker, grounding me instantly. “Bianca. I’m on a military transport plane heading your way. I’ll be touching down soon.” “Pack your things and come with me. That man doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even possess the biological capacity to understand what love is.” Tears spilled over my eyelashes, soaking into my hospital pillow. I felt like an idiot. A tragic, pathetic cliché holding onto a ghost. “But Wyatt,” I cried softly, “he saved my mom. He promised he was going to learn how to keep me safe.” “Let me be stupid just one last time.” Wyatt let out a heavy, frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. “And what happens if he’s just playing you again?” I closed my eyes, letting the last thread of my naive hope snap. “If he’s lying to me again, I’ll pack my bags and leave with you.” “And I will never, ever forgive Roger as long as I live.” 3 The next morning, I ate the apple Roger had left for me. We got back together. He visited my room every single day. Sometimes he brought fresh fruit. Sometimes he just sat in the armchair, quietly reviewing my chart and checking my surgical drains. He would awkwardly force himself to make small talk, trying to mimic what he thought a normal, loving boyfriend sounded like. His cognitive behavioral therapy was clearly making a dent. He was trying. But he was also the chief of cardiothoracic surgery. His schedule was brutal. On the Friday afternoon we were finally supposed to go get our marriage license, two emergency trauma surgeries got dumped on his lap. He rescheduled for the following week. But when the next week rolled around, a massive pile-up on the interstate flooded the ER. “Bianca, I’m so sorry. I can’t scrub out right now. Next week. I promise I will clear my entire afternoon next week.” “It’s fine,” I told him over the phone. “Save lives. Drink some coffee.” I was a doctor too. I understood the triage. I took the bitter disappointment swelling in my chest and locked it in a box. It was just another week. I survived three years of artillery fire; I could survive a few more days of waiting. Later that month, the hospital administration held a mandatory all-staff assembly. After the Chief of Medicine droned on about budget cuts, he switched gears. “Additionally, HR is rolling out a massive update to our internal benefits and payroll software. We need to update our dependent and marital status records.” “If anyone here has recently gotten married, please raise your hand so we can get a preliminary headcount.” A ripple of low chuckles went through the auditorium. Everyone knew this was the Chief’s way of publicly teasing the staff. I glanced to my right. Beside me, Roger slowly raised his hand. Immediately, a chorus of catcalls and whistles erupted from our department’s seating section. “Oh, come on, Dr. Roger! The whole hospital knows you’re dying to put a ring on Dr. Bianca, but raising your hand before the ink is dry doesn’t count!” “Seriously man, you two are making us sick with the lovesick puppy routine! Give us a date already so we know when the open bar is!” “Put your arm down, Chief, she’s not going anywhere! Just make sure you get the good champagne!” The good-natured teasing made my face burn. I smiled, a warm flutter in my chest, and gently tugged on the sleeve of his white coat. “Put your hand down, you idiot,” I whispered playfully. “He asked for people who are already legally married.” But as I looked across the aisle, my stomach dropped. Jona had her hand raised too. And she was staring directly at me, a vicious, triumphant smirk plastered across her face. Every alarm bell in my nervous system went off at once. A second later, Jona stood up. Her voice carried clearly through the massive room. “You guys have it all wrong.” “I’m the one who married Dr. Roger.” Dead silence. And then, absolute chaos. The auditorium exploded like a grenade had been dropped in the center aisle. Hundreds of eyes darted frantically between me, Roger, and Jona. The whispers morphed into a deafening roar of shock and aggressive gossip. The Chief of Medicine froze at the podium, completely blindsided. It took him a solid ten seconds to recover. “Alright, settle down! Shut it down! This is a professional environment, not a tabloid! Assembly dismissed! Everyone back to your wards!” I couldn’t hear the rest of his speech. It felt like a mortar shell had gone off right next to my head. The ringing in my ears was absolute. My entire body went numb. I stood up and moved like a ghost, letting the current of the exiting crowd carry me toward the hallway. Roger caught up to me in a deserted stairwell, grabbing my arm. He looked incredibly guilty. “Bianca, please let me explain.” “Jona’s father was my mentor in med school. He practically raised me. He has stage four pancreatic cancer. His dying wish was to see his daughter married to someone who could take care of her. We made an arrangement. I used this marriage to repay my life debt to him.” “But Jona and I already have a contract. The second her father passes away, we file for an annulment. Then I marry you. I swear.” I stared at his perfectly symmetrical face. My chest felt hollowed out, like someone had taken an ice scoop to my ribs. The cold draft howling through my empty chest was unbearable. “When exactly did you two go to the courthouse?” My voice sounded like crushed glass. Roger flinched. He dropped his gaze to the concrete floor. “It was… the first Friday afternoon we were supposed to go.” “Then why did you keep telling me ‘next week’?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Bigamy is a felony, Roger.” He stared at his shoes, his voice laced with heavy, genuine remorse. “I’m sorry. I lied to you again. I just thought I could stall you long enough until my mentor passed.” The chill seeped all the way into my bone marrow. “Roger,” I whispered. “I am never, ever going to forgive you.” 4 I walked straight to the HR department and put in for an indefinite leave of absence. Given the spectacular public humiliation I had just endured, the HR director didn’t ask a single question. She just stamped my paperwork with a look of deep pity. As I walked out of the hospital’s main glass doors, someone stepped into my path. Jona. Her chin was tilted up, radiating the smug arrogance of a victor standing over a corpse. “Giving up already?” she sneered. “If Roger hadn’t promised me your combat commendations, I wouldn’t have even let you stick around to play his pathetic little side piece. But we’re legally bound now. If you keep throwing yourself at my husband…” “You’re nothing but a cheap, homewrecking whore.” Her insults didn’t even register. I was just exhausted. “You have zero class, Jona. You’re a disgrace to your father’s reputation,” I said coldly. “And regardless of your pathetic jealousy, you shouldn’t speak to the person who took a knife for you like that.” I don’t know which button I pushed, but Jona instantly lost her mind. “Took a knife for me?!” she shrieked, her face turning ugly. “That psycho bitch lost her kid because she was genetically weak! Her body was trash! It had nothing to do with me mixing up some stupid pills! And then she had the nerve to go slit her wrists at my house?! My family had to pay out a massive settlement to her gross husband!” “She should have just died quieter! Fucking white-trash parasites!” My expression darkened instantly. As a medical professional, her lack of empathy was horrifying. Mixing up a patient’s prescription was a catastrophic, lethal error. Instead of remorse, she was spitting on a dead woman’s grave. I opened my mouth to verbally tear her apart, but a blur of motion caught my eye. A middle-aged man in a filthy jacket was sprinting toward us from the parking lot, a massive meat cleaver gripped in his fist. Jona saw him. All the blood drained from her face. She let out a bloodcurdling scream and scrambled backward. The man swung the heavy blade wildly, catching Jona on the upper arm. She screamed again as he chased her toward the glass doors, roaring like a wounded animal. “My wife killed herself because of you, and you’re still out here running your filthy mouth! My family is dead! I have nothing left to lose! I’m sending you straight to hell, you murdering bitch!” Jona tripped over the curb and crawled frantically toward the hospital lobby. Patients and nurses in the atrium began screaming, scattering in total panic. My combat instincts took over. If an active shooter or a maniac with a blade got loose in a crowded hospital lobby, it would be an absolute bloodbath. I spun around and sprinted toward the danger. The man grabbed a heavy metal trash can and hurled it at Jona’s back. She went down hard, sprawling flat on the concrete. Before she could get up, he grabbed her by her hair, yanked her head back, and pressed the edge of the cleaver against her throat. “Run! Keep running, you piece of shit! I’m going to carve you up!” “Stop!” I yelled, skidding to a halt a few feet away, my chest heaving. “Don’t do this!” I pleaded. “Do you remember me? I’m Dr. Bianca! I signed the forgiveness waiver for your wife when she stabbed me!” The man glared at me, his eyes wild and bloodshot. His grip on the cleaver tightened. “Back off! I don’t kill innocent people!” “You’re a good person, Doc. But if you’re trying to save her—forget it!” Security guards began slowly circling us, drawing their batons. The man’s jaw set. He was fully prepared for suicide by cop. “I’m trying to save you!” I screamed, desperate to break through his psychosis. “You and your wife adopted a little girl, right? Lily! She’s eight! When I went to your house to drop off the legal waivers, I met her. She’s so smart! She already lost her mom; she cannot lose her dad today!” “If you die here, or rot in a cell, she goes into the foster system! They’ll tear her apart!” The man’s lower lip began to tremble. He stared into space, unconsciously whispering his daughter’s name. “Lily…” The cleaver shook against Jona’s skin. A raw, guttural sob ripped from his throat. “But I crossed the line! I don’t have a way back!” “Doc… please. Call social services. Tell them I’m sorry. I failed her…” Tears flooded his eyes. When a person cries heavily, their vision blurs for a fraction of a second. Their adrenaline spikes, then dips. It’s the ultimate tactical blind spot. This was my window. I shifted my weight, preparing to lunge forward and secure his wrist. Just wait for the blink. Now—! Suddenly, a violent force slammed into my spine. I was shoved hard from behind. I stumbled forward, completely losing my footing, crashing directly into the man holding the cleaver. The blade didn’t hit Jona. It went straight into my stomach. It slid perfectly into the exact same, partially healed surgical wound from a month ago. Except this time, the blade was wider, heavier, and it went so deep the steel tore through my back. A horrific fountain of arterial blood exploded from my torso, painting the concrete red. I collapsed to my knees, choking on copper, and slowly turned my head. I didn’t even need to guess. It was Roger. Bianca, my fading mind whispered to itself. You got played again. I hit the pavement, completely submerged in a pool of my own blood, and the world went totally black.

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On the twentieth day of the silent treatment between me and Carter Vance, he posted a picture holding hands with the high school prom queen on his Instagram. I quietly logged into my college application portal and changed my top choice to Seattle, thousands of miles away. At a party, his friend teased him: “Mia, if you don’t go apologize to him, Carter might actually end up with someone else.” I whispered, “I’m sorry.” Carter smirked. “Whatever. Go back and pack your bags. We’ll head to campus together tomorrow for move-in day.” I gave a vague response. Carter didn’t know that I had already bought a plane ticket to Seattle for tonight. 01 I am the daughter of the Vance family’s housekeeper. At the age of seven, I moved into a small room on the ground floor of their mansion. My job was to take care of his daily needs. For ten full years, serving him became a task etched into my bones. I was docile and obedient, and Carter’s mother often praised me. Carter, however, despised me. The first time we met, he was standing on the staircase wearing a white button-down shirt and dress shorts, looking as perfectly put together as a porcelain doll. I was wearing a faded, torn, oversized t-shirt, staring blankly at everything around me. His eyes could not hide his disgust. Mrs. Vance introduced me to him. She said I was Mary’s daughter, Mia. My father had run off, we had nowhere to go, so we came to rely on her. He didn’t say a word, just turned and went upstairs. Mrs. Vance told me that from then on, my job was to take care of Carter. My mom also told me that the Vance family was very powerful and that it wasn’t easy for us to be allowed to stay. She told me to keep my head down, work hard, and never do anything to anger Carter. I knew Carter didn’t like me, so to be able to keep living there, I tried to make myself as invisible as possible. Every day, I quietly helped him organize his clothes and tidy his room. For the first three months I was there, Carter didn’t speak a single word to me. That year, he got sick. Mrs. Vance was going through a difficult time and was traveling abroad. The family doctor came and prescribed medication, but by nightfall, his cough hadn’t improved. I remembered a home remedy my grandmother used to make: poached pears with peppercorns. When I made it and brought it to him, Carter looked at it with utter disgust. “Mia, are you trying to poison me with some weird country remedy?” I replied timidly, “It’s not poison. The pear is good for you; it stops the coughing.” Carter looked annoyed: “If it doesn’t work, will you get the hell out of my house?” I froze, standing to the side, not daring to breathe. Carter let out a scoffing sound and drank it. The next morning, his cough was much better. 02 Before elementary school started, my mom found a boarding school for me. It was a bit far, so I’d only be able to come home on weekends. I felt a wave of relief. Leaving the house meant my mom wouldn’t be put in awkward situations with the Vance family, and I wouldn’t have to deal with Carter’s moods anymore. While I was packing my things and waiting for the bus, my mom ran over, out of breath, to tell me the news. Mrs. Vance had arranged for me to attend the same elementary school as Carter. She wanted me to take care of him at school. I whispered, “Can I not go?” My mom grabbed my shoulders. “Mia, don’t be stupid. Carter’s school is prestigious. So many people want to get in but can’t.” I lowered my eyes and said nothing. 03 From then on, I became Carter’s sidekick. I followed him from elementary school to middle school. Getting his lunch, carrying his backpack, doing his homework. Everyone knew I was the tail he couldn’t shake. In middle school, he made a bunch of friends. I was the tail lagging far behind the group. Constantly monitoring Carter’s mood and his needs. His friends all said I was his devoted admirer. If Carter told me to go north, I absolutely wouldn’t dare go south. The only thing that never changed was Carter’s disdain for me. In eighth grade, Carter went out and got a jacket he really liked dirty. He pulled me out of bed in the middle of the night to hand-wash it. I was only wearing a thin spaghetti-strap nightgown, my face burning red with embarrassment. Carter mockingly remarked, looking away, “With a body that flat, who’d even want to look.” A seed of youthful insecurity quietly took root. In my sophomore year of high school, the academic pressure intensified, and I studied day and night. Carter suddenly decided he wanted to eat my cooking. He made me cook dinner every night and bring it to school for his lunch the next day. By the time I finished studying and cooking his food, it was past midnight, and I still had to wake up early to wait for him to go to school. At lunchtime, I heated the food and brought it to Carter. His friend put an arm around him and said, “Not bad, Carter, having your little wife cook for you.” Carter’s expression instantly turned cold. With a look of disgust, he tossed the food I had heated up to his desk mate to eat. I didn’t say a word, just waited silently for the guy to finish, washed the container, and went back to studying. That year, I finally seemed to start developing. I especially hated running during P.E. class. But I couldn’t get excused. I wasn’t Carter. During P.E., he was almost always playing basketball on the other court, and the teachers never said anything to him. When it was my turn to run, some guys would always whistle at me. I unconsciously slowed my pace. Noah Sterling from the class next door happened to walk by and handed me his school jacket. This caused a wave of whispers. I had seen him at the back-to-school assembly. I heard his family’s business was very well-known. He was polite and gentle, and both his looks and grades were top-tier. “Put this on. You still have half a mile to run.” I hesitated, but took it. Later, someone in my class spread a rumor that I was shameless, deliberately trying to seduce Noah by wearing his jacket. From the back row, Carter kicked over a desk with a loud crash. Everyone immediately shut up. That evening, Carter didn’t wait for me to go home. He said since I was so capable, I should have Noah walk me home. I sighed, took out some change, and went to take the bus. To my surprise, Noah was there too. He was quietly listening to vocabulary words and waved at me. I sat down next to him, and he took off his headphones. I knew the jacket incident had caused trouble for him too, and I softly apologized. Noah smiled indifferently. “Mia, just ignore the rumors. Focus on your studies. “We only have two and a half years until college. Have you thought about where you want to go?” Noah had a very gentle, handsome look, completely different from Carter’s sharp, aggressive features. I was momentarily stunned. Where did I want to go to college? I had never really thought about it. I only ever thought about how to get my grades higher, and then higher still. I didn’t have money for tutoring. My mom managed to borrow Carter’s notes for me. I had to admit Carter was smarter than me; he often understood concepts after reading them just once. I needed to repeatedly practice and review to consolidate my understanding. Having his notes was incredibly helpful. My mom said that when the time came, I should apply to the same schools as Carter. His family had money and resources; the school they chose would definitely be a good one. I didn’t know which university Carter would apply to. Noah smiled gently: “Think carefully about the school you truly want to go to.” When I got home, my mom said Carter wasn’t coming home for dinner. She asked me where he went. I shook my head and said I didn’t know. When Carter finally came back, it was past midnight. He looked exhausted, with some blood on his hands. He walked in, gave me a cold glance, and went upstairs. I softly asked if he needed me to bandage him up. Carter didn’t say a word and went upstairs. I continued researching different universities online. It was the first time. I clearly felt that I could leave Carter and have a place I truly wanted to go. Later, I anxiously asked my mom if she had ever thought about leaving the Vance family. After all, we couldn’t live there forever. My mom also seemed a bit lost. She said that ever since she divorced my dad, she had been working for the Vance family. Even though Carter’s temper could be erratic, Mrs. Vance was relatively easy to get along with. Over the years, I had never seen Carter’s dad at the mansion. I only knew from fragments of conversation. Carter’s family’s company was massive, and his dad was very busy. His parents had a bad relationship; their marriage was a business arrangement. After he was born, his dad got another girlfriend. Mrs. Vance took care of Carter. Besides working, she often traveled, leaving my mom to look after the house. My mom said she originally planned to work there until I graduated college, then take her savings and start a small business. I quietly asked if she had considered leaving when I graduated high school. My mom silently stroked my head and didn’t say a word. 04 Ever since the jacket incident, Carter found new ways to mess with me every night. Whether it was getting him water or organizing his desk. Or changing his bedsheets and washing his new clothes. I was just thankful that I was no longer sleeping in the same room as my mom, so she wouldn’t worry. If Carter didn’t sleep, I couldn’t sleep either. I had to constantly hover around him, doing chores. A few times, exhaustion took over, and I just fell asleep. I would always wake up on the sofa in Carter’s room. By the time I woke up, Carter would already be gone. I took the bus back and forth by myself. It took longer, but I felt much more relaxed. I thought, if I completely offended Carter, maybe he would just ignore me forever. But thinking about it, that was obviously impossible right now. I could only use doing practice tests as an excuse to stop spending time trying to please him. A week later, Carter had a basketball game. Usually, for his games, I would buy drinks and prepare a change of clothes for him. This time, I didn’t go; I stayed in the classroom memorizing vocabulary. My mom called, saying Carter had been in a bad mood lately. Mrs. Vance asked me to take good care of him. She had ordered boba to be delivered to the basketball court and asked me to go pick it up. I took the boba and sat on the sidelines. A few students were laughing and chatting. “I told you so, she couldn’t hold back. When Carter ignores her, she gets terrified.” “A simp has to know her place. She pretended for a few days, but couldn’t help herself.” I didn’t say anything. On the court, Carter went up for a jump shot, drawing a wave of cheers. He gave me a long, deep look, gesturing for me to hand out the boba. I handed them out to the others first. I brought the last cup to Carter. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking at me with a nasty glint in his eye. I stood in the sunlight, holding the boba out to him, facing everyone’s mockery. I whispered, “Carter, your boba.” Carter didn’t look at me, his voice casual: “Bring it to my mouth. I twisted my wrist; it hurts.” I put the straw in and held it up to him. Carter leaned down and took two sips. His friends whistled at him, and he smiled indifferently. I really didn’t understand why he was acting like this. Until I turned around and saw Noah Sterling sitting on the bleachers across from us. Was he trying to compete with Noah? Both had good family backgrounds. Both were exceptionally good-looking and smart. It was inevitable they’d be compared. I didn’t expect Carter, who usually never paid attention to anyone, to start noticing Noah. I didn’t think too much of it. Following Carter’s orders, I held the boba up to his lips. At least if Carter was in a good mood, he wouldn’t make things difficult for me, and I could get a good night’s sleep. 05 Two months before graduation, for Carter’s eighteenth birthday, he invited his friends out for karaoke. It was loud and lively, everyone was having a great time. Halfway through, Carter took a phone call, completely lost his temper, and smashed a bunch of bottles, scaring everyone into silence. His friend noticed something was wrong and tried to comfort him, but Carter yelled at him, so he quickly ushered everyone else out. I sat there, anxious, silently hoping to blend in and sneak out, terrified of getting yelled at too. Just as I reached the door. Carter spoke coldly. “Mia, get your ass over here.” Startled, I walked over to him. He scoffed, “What are you afraid of? Do I bite?” I quickly shook my head. “Where’s my gift? You came to my birthday empty-handed?” “I, I bought one. When I got here and saw everyone else’s gifts were so expensive, I didn’t bring it out.” I pulled out a fountain pen I had bought on a whim on the way there. It cost $15. It couldn’t compare to the designer brands the other students gave him. Carter snorted coldly. “Wow. Two years ago, you gave me socks. “Last year, you gave me shoes. I thought this year you were going to give me underwear, but this is it?” My face turned red at his words. I had actually planned out his gifts: socks two years ago, gloves last year. Because I got mocked for the socks, I saved up to buy shoes last year. This year, I had to save for college tuition. I didn’t have any extra money, so I just bought a random fountain pen. The shop owner had even decorated it with a pink ribbon flower. I apologized softly. “I’m sorry for making you unhappy.” “This isn’t the only thing you do that makes me unhappy.” Carter mocked with surprising calmness. Then he crooked his finger. “Come here.” I slowly took a step closer. Carter reached out, forcefully wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled his head against me. His breath was scorching hot. I tried to push him away, but he exerted a little more force. I fell onto his lap. Carter was very strong. He buried his face in my neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth. Shocked, I stammered, “C-Carter…” He seemed to freeze for a moment in his haze, then bit down on my neck. A sharp pain shot through my whole body. Held so tightly I couldn’t struggle, I finally gave up and endured the pain. After a long while, he returned to his usual self and spoke casually. “Mia, if you dare tell anyone, you’re dead.” Angry and flustered, I touched the bite mark on my neck. Carter’s expression revealed nothing unusual. Before we went back, he told me he was going to apply to Boston University. The bite mark forced me to wear a scarf to school, almost getting caught by my mom. She had recently found out from Mrs. Vance about the school Carter was applying to and told me to follow him. She would also occasionally ask Carter about the majors at Boston University. Carter would patiently analyze them for her. The way he acted in front of adults versus in front of me was completely different. He probably just saw me as an easy target. Mrs. Vance also said it would be good for us to apply to the same school, so we could look out for each other. His family had a mansion near the campus there. She even mentioned that Carter had overseen some renovations remotely two years ago. She said I could live there too when the time came. I just nodded obediently every time. As for where I actually went, it wouldn’t matter to Carter. There was no need to reveal my true plans. Time passed quickly amidst intense studying. Fortunately, Carter’s mood was relatively stable that year. He didn’t constantly look for reasons to make trouble for me. I had more time to study. But the tension only truly dissipated after the exams were over.

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1 My husband Matthew’s second wife stood outside the precinct interrogation room, holding a paper bag from a high-end deli. She wore a delicate silk scarf tied around her neck, smiling sweetly as she whispered to the officers that she had brought her husband dinner. At that exact moment, the serial killer sitting inside the interrogation room casually mentioned that the person who hired him had a distinct, cross-shaped scar on her neck. He even tilted his head, flashing a crooked grin, and told Detective Matthew that he should be very familiar with it. The atmosphere in the corridor instantly flatlined. Every cop in the vicinity turned their eyes toward Matthew. Matthew’s face remained a mask of stone. He demanded to know what the hell that had to do with him. The killer, Silas, let out a dry, rattling chuckle. Up until now, he had been relaxed, happily spilling the details of a massive contract he took five years ago. A wealthy buyer had set her sights on the victim’s husband. The buyer ordered Silas to abduct the wife, sever her head, and cut out the unborn child she was carrying on a very specific date. That date happened to be the exact day of Detective Matthew’s second wedding. This sensational, gruesome case had gone unsolved for five years. When the task force finally caught Silas, he was blowing through cash in a five-star hotel. As they slapped the cuffs on him, he didn’t even flinch. He just looked amused, openly mocking them for taking half a decade to track him down. The rich scent of roasted meat and garlic drifted from the deli bag, yet no one was paying attention to the food. Every gaze was locked onto Daphne’s neck. She shrank back slightly, her voice trembling like a startled bird. “Why is everyone staring at me?” Matthew’s sharp gaze softened the moment he looked at her. “What are you doing here so late?” “I heard you guys finally caught that monster. I wanted to bring you something to celebrate.” She tilted her head up, entirely compliant as Matthew reached out and gently untied the silk scarf. There was indeed a jagged scar marring the pale skin of her throat. It just wasn’t shaped like a cross. Matthew’s eyes filled with deep, unmistakable affection. He brushed his thumb just below the scarred tissue. “You really should look into getting that laser removal surgery.” “No way,” she protested softly. “This is my badge of honor. I got this protecting you. I’m keeping it.” The interrogation paused for a recess, and the two of them stood in the bustling precinct, wrapped up in their own private world. I stood a few feet away, watching them. I was completely numb. Ever since I died, my soul had been tethered to Matthew. I couldn’t leave his side. Five years was a long time. It was enough time for him to fall genuinely, deeply in love with Daphne. It was also enough time for him to entirely forget his first wife, the woman who had vanished without a trace half a decade ago. They walked side by side back to his desk to eat. Daphne was an incredible cook, and every dish in that bag was perfectly tailored to Matthew’s palate. Watching him eat with such quiet contentment, a memory surfaced from five years ago. Daphne had sat in my kitchen, smiling brightly as she asked me for advice. “Nora, they say the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Do you ever cook Matthew’s favorite meals at home?” I looked at the woman I considered my absolute best friend in the world and, without a single ounce of suspicion, gave her all of Matthew’s favorite recipes and dietary quirks. She used those secrets well. Over the last five years, every single meal she made for him was a dish I had taught her. She succeeded. She captured his stomach, and then she stole his heart. Daphne packed up the empty containers and prepared to leave. As she stepped out of the bullpen, she glanced back over her shoulder, a picture of innocent curiosity. “Honey, what was that guy saying earlier? Why did everyone look at me like that?” Matthew froze for a fraction of a second. He walked over and gently pinched her cheek. “It was nothing. Just the ramblings of a psycho. Head home. I’m going to be interrogating him all night, so don’t wait up.” The moment the glass doors shut behind Daphne, a junior detective named Bennett practically sprinted out of the observation room. He grabbed Matthew’s arm, his face pale and slick with sweat. “He shut down the second you walked out. Matthew, we still haven’t found the victim’s head. You have to get back in there and break him.” Matthew’s gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by the hardened, lethal edge of a veteran detective. He marched back into the room. Silas sat handcuffed to the steel table, completely unfazed by the blinding glare of the overhead lights. He squinted at Matthew, his posture lazy and arrogant. “Detective Matthew. I hear your lovely wife dropped by with dinner. Tasted pretty good, didn’t it?” The upward curve of his lips was grotesque. Matthew crossed his arms over his chest, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Silas, you’re backed into a corner. Stop playing games and start talking.” Silas’s eyes went wide with mock surprise before he burst into a fit of manic laughter. “I always heard you were the best on the force. Turns out you’re entirely useless. Five years. You couldn’t identify the body, you couldn’t find the buyer, and now you have to beg the killer to put the pieces together for you.” Matthew lunged forward, slamming his fists onto the metal table with a deafening crash. “You know exactly why we couldn’t identify her! You butchered her, Silas! You severed her head, cut out her child, and submerged the remains in chemicals so the lab couldn’t pull a single strand of viable DNA!” “You will tell me who she is and where you buried the rest of her, or I swear to God…” “Or what?” Silas sneered, raising his hands. The heavy chains of his cuffs rattled loudly against the steel. “I’m already chained to this table. What exactly are you going to do to me?” Matthew had broken drug lords, cartel enforcers, and psychopaths. But no one had ever pushed him to this level of suffocating rage. Silas watched him struggle to keep his composure, soaking in the entertainment before deciding to throw him a bone. “The woman I carved up was the woman who shared your bed for three years. Your ex-wife. Nora.” Silas leaned forward, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. “She had a gorgeous body. The way she screamed when I pinned her down… it was practically music. She begged me to stop. She offered to let me use her all night if I just let her live.” “But I had a job to do. I tied her to that filthy mattress and made sure she kept her eyes open while I took my knife to her stomach.” He jerked his chin toward the evidence bags resting on the edge of the desk. “I used that exact hunting knife, by the way.” Matthew’s head snapped up. The veins in his neck bulged against his skin, pulsing erratically. “Bullshit,” he growled, his voice absolute. “She cheated on me. I saw her with my own eyes. I watched her get on a flight to Europe with another man.” Matthew cracked his knuckles, the sharp popping sounds filling the small room. He refused to look at Silas, speaking more to himself than the killer. “She was fragile. Always insecure. I yelled at her once, and she decided I didn’t love her anymore. So she found someone else. I sent her a hundred texts asking for an explanation. She ignored every single one.” He paused, pressing his thumb hard against his index finger until the joint popped again. He finally glared at Silas. “I saw her social media updates. She’s in the Swiss Alps right now, skiing with her new boyfriend. Making up a sick ghost story isn’t going to save you from a lethal injection. Or what, did Nora pay you to come here and mess with my head?” Silas stared at Matthew, his chest heaving with silent, uncontrollable laughter. “When I cut her head off, her eyes were so wide. I couldn’t get the eyelids to close, no matter how hard I tried. I always wondered why she died with such a horrific grudge. Now I get it. It was you.” Matthew acted as if he hadn’t heard a word. He pulled out his phone, swiped furiously, and shoved the screen right into Silas’s face. “We deal in facts in this building, Silas. Here’s a photo from last month. She’s alive. She’s thriving. You’re a liar.” I floated closer, my gaze locking onto the glowing screen. It was a picture of my face, pressed intimately against the cheek of a man I didn’t even recognize. Matthew’s face was devoid of emotion, but a phantom pain ripped through my chest. I didn’t understand. Matthew, that isn’t me. It’s edited. Why couldn’t you see that? Why didn’t you recognize your own wife? Silas rested his chin in his hands, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Detective, you can wave that fake picture in my face all day, but nothing beats seeing the truth with your own eyes.” “I’ll only say this once. Five years ago, a woman with a fresh, unhealed scar on her neck tracked me down. She paid me a fortune to execute Nora on the fourteenth of May.” “I asked her why that specific date. She smiled and told me that Nora’s death was going to be her wedding present. To celebrate her marriage to Nora’s husband.” Matthew’s breathing hitched. His spine snapped entirely rigid. “You’re completely insane. If you won’t talk, I’ll let the boys in the basement have a turn with you.” He stood up, his movements stiff and uncoordinated. His hand was just inches from the door handle when Silas’s voice slithered through the air again. “Right before I ended it, I let her call you.” “You picked up. But she couldn’t even get a word out before she heard you and your new bride going at it in the background.” Matthew whipped his head around, slamming right into Silas’s mocking stare. “You have no idea how utterly destroyed she looked,” Silas said casually. “So, as a final favor, she begged me to bury her and the kid somewhere you would have to drive past every single day.” Matthew froze. His lungs stopped working. There was a specific, scenic shortcut he took to the precinct every morning. Only two people in the world knew about it. Matthew stormed out of the room, shouting orders to mobilize a forensics team to that exact stretch of road. Once the chaotic flurry of officers cleared the hallway, he slumped against the concrete wall, trying to drag oxygen into his lungs. I crouched beside him, a sad, bitter smile touching my lips as I watched him fall apart. Matthew was two years younger than me. When we were together, he always tried to act stoic and mature, but underneath it all, he was just a stubborn kid. Now, five years later, the job had stripped that away. He had seen the worst of humanity. He was the legendary Detective Matthew. I watched him for a long time. He took a jagged breath, pulling his phone from his pocket. His thumb hovered over the screen, shaking slightly, before he dialed a number he had memorized years ago. It rang once before someone picked up. Matthew didn’t even wait for a greeting. His voice tore through the quiet hallway, vicious and raw. “Nora, do you think this is a joke? How much did you pay that psychopath to sit in my interrogation room and lie to my face?” “You are completely out of your mind. You hired a serial killer? Are you not terrified he’s going to turn around and butcher you for real?” He stopped talking. His chest heaved violently, betraying the sheer panic boiling underneath his anger. Total silence stretched across the line. Then, a deep, unfamiliar male voice replied. “Hey, buddy, I think you’ve got the wrong number. There’s no Nora here.” Matthew turned to stone. He pulled the phone back and stared at the screen. It was the right number. It was the matching couple’s phone plan we had bought for our last anniversary. Our numbers were identical except for the very last digit. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping into a dangerous snarl. “You’re the guy she ran off with, aren’t you? Listen to me—” “Dude, no. I’m an accountant. I bought this number from the carrier four years ago. Have a good night.” The call clicked off. Matthew stood completely paralyzed. During the first year after I died, he would call that disconnected number every single night, screaming his frustrations into the void. Over time, as he built a new life with Daphne, the calls stopped. He eventually learned to forget the woman who had supposedly ruined him. Time moves on. The dead stay dead, and the living forget. Everything that once tied us together had faded into dust. I reached out, wrapping my translucent arms around his shoulders in a phantom hug, just like I used to when he was stressed. He stood there in silence for a long minute. Then, he bolted. He sprinted down the hall like a man on fire. I was dragged along behind him by our tether. I watched him throw his cruiser into gear, tires screeching as he sped toward the route he took every day. The rural road was already swarming with flashing red and blue lights. Crime scene tape glowed violently in the dark. An excavator idled nearby, its massive metal claw digging into the earth. Matthew ignored the perimeter guards, marching straight to a small curve near an old oak tree. There was a completely unremarkable stone sitting in the dirt. I had placed it there myself. He dropped to his knees, his eyes bloodshot, his fingers digging desperately into the damp soil. “Is it here?” he whispered to himself. “You told me you got this stone blessed at a cathedral… you said you buried it on my route to keep me safe.” I let out a heavy sigh as the night wind rushed past us. He stood up, wiping the wet dirt from his palms onto his slacks. “Bring the machine in. Dig right here.” No one questioned him. The mechanical arm tore into the ground. The heavy, metallic scent of overturned soil filled the air. Matthew stared into the widening pit, his thumb unconsciously digging hard into his own palm. It was a nervous tic he had whenever he was terrified. I used to scold him for it constantly. I leaned in, whispering in his ear to stop hurting himself. But he couldn’t hear me anymore. The excavator hit the three-foot mark. Metal scraped loudly against metal. “We hit something! It looks like a steel trunk!” an officer yelled. Matthew’s breath hitched. He practically threw himself into the ditch. It was a heavy, reinforced lockbox. No one knew what was inside. The forensics team promised they could drill the electronic lock within twenty-four hours. Matthew didn’t say a word. He just knelt in the dirt in his ruined suit, his fingers hovering over the keypad. I stood right behind him, watching as he typed in the first combination. 0-5-1-9. The day of our anniversary. Shortly after our wedding, I had rested my head on his chest and told him, “This date means everything to me. You and Daphne are the only two people in the world who know why. You’re my family.” Matthew held his breath and hit the enter key. The lock flashed red. Access denied. The frantic pounding in his chest began to slow. He stumbled backward, retreating from the center of the pit, his eyes completely hollow as he stared right through me. He was entirely lost in his own mind. A split second later, a soft, familiar voice echoed behind him. “Honey, what are you doing out here? What’s May 19th?” Matthew answered purely on reflex, his mind still somewhere else. The moment the words left his mouth, the warm, concerned smile on Daphne’s face twisted into something ugly and panicked. She instantly smoothed her features back into a mask of innocence. “I have no idea. Nora never mentioned that date to me.” It had been five years. This was the first time either of them had spoken my name to the other. The silence between them was thick and suffocating. I stood in the shadows, glaring at Daphne. Liar. You know exactly what that date means. No one knows better than you. Daphne and I had been best friends for over a decade. She was charismatic, beautiful, and loved by everyone. I was timid and socially anxious. She was the only friend I had. I told her everything. Seven years ago, I confessed to her, “There’s a guy in my history seminar. I think I’m falling for him.” The day I met Matthew was May 19th. Daphne pushed me to go after him. I stepped entirely out of my comfort zone to get his attention. We confessed, we dated, we got married. It was a fairy tale. But as time went on, Daphne began embedding herself deeper into our lives. I thought she just missed me. Yet, every single time she came around, Matthew and I would end up in a screaming match. I couldn’t figure out why. I broke down once, begging him to tell me what was wrong. He just stared at me with this complex, utterly cold expression and walked away. Our marriage began fracturing at the seams. We fought, we cried, we tried desperately to glue the pieces back together. During one of our worst cold wars, I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to surprise him. I spent two weeks secretly planning a romantic dinner, hoping a baby would be the miracle that saved us. When everything was ready, I asked Daphne to bring him to the apartment. I waited from sunset until midnight. Neither of them showed. I finally went out looking for them. I turned the corner near his precinct, only to find them holding each other tightly under the streetlights. All the fighting, all the sleepless nights, suddenly made perfect, devastating sense. They were sleeping together. I lost my mind. I threw the heavy, glass-encased gift box I was holding straight at Matthew. Daphne threw herself in front of him. The shattered glass sliced across her neck. Blood poured from the wound. She collapsed, clutching her throat, crying hysterically. Matthew caught her, his face twisting in absolute fury as he glared at me. “Nora, are you psychotic?! Look at what you just did!” Daphne gripped his jacket, her voice trembling. “Matthew, don’t yell at her… she just misunderstood…” “Misunderstood?” Matthew’s teeth locked together. “Is it a misunderstanding that I saw her checking into a hotel room with another guy three days ago?!” “What the hell did I ever do to make you betray me like this, Nora?!” I stood frozen. The world went black at the edges. A violent ringing tore through my ears. My mind was a tangled mess of static. I realized someone had set me up. There was a massive web of lies between us, but before I could untangle a single thread, the blood from Daphne’s neck dripped through her fingers and splashed onto the pavement. Matthew didn’t give me a chance to speak. He hauled Daphne into his car, fixing me with a look of pure disgust. Like I was a monster. “Go home. We’re done talking for tonight.” I took a shaky breath, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. “Fine. I’ll wait for you at the house. We’re going to figure this out.” His taillights faded into the distance. I turned around to make the short walk home. I barely made it three blocks before a rag soaked in chloroform was slammed over my nose and mouth. After that, there was only darkness. I lost all concept of time in that basement. By the time I finally saw the light of day again, Silas was standing over me with a knife. I had been trying to walk home for five years. I still hadn’t made it. A rookie cop came scrambling up to Matthew, his chest heaving. “Detective… the tech team popped the lock.” The kid looked like he was about to be sick. He couldn’t finish his sentence. Matthew’s heart hammered against his ribs. He shoved through the crowd of uniforms and stared down into the dirt. The moment he saw what was inside, every drop of blood vanished from his face.

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I mocked him: “Wow, Mr. Harrison is getting up there in age and still no one wants him?” He mocked me right back: “Likewise. Didn’t Chloe’s little high school romance fail to bloom?” Perfect. It was finally time for me to repay his “teaching grace.” A few months later, I pointed at Carter Harrison standing in the corner of our bedroom: “Don’t even think about getting into bed until you recite Hamlet’s soliloquy flawlessly from memory.” 01 When I went home for the holidays, my Aunt Mary set me up on a blind date. According to her, the guy was 29, held a Master’s degree, and worked as a teacher. He had a nice car, his own place, and no living parents to cause in-law drama. He was well-off, handsome, and had a stable, tenured job. His family—or what was left of it—was pushing him to settle down, which was why he agreed to the date. I thought about it and decided his resume was pretty flawless. So, I went to meet him. Who could have predicted that the man sitting across from me would be my former high school English teacher? The exact same homeroom teacher who used to constantly lecture me about the dangers of dating in high school. “Chloe, you can’t even pick the right answer out of four options on an SAT question. Do you really think you can find the right guy out of 330 million Americans?” “Don’t date in high school, the quality is terrible. Wait until college to find someone to grow old with.” His earnest teachings from years ago were still echoing in my ears. When we made eye contact, we both froze. He still had that refined, scholarly aura. He wore a light gray button-down shirt, crisp slacks, and a clean-cut hairstyle. His handsome face was framed by a pair of rimless glasses. He looked exactly the same as I remembered. Meanwhile, I was wearing sky-high stilettos and sporting ash-gray, wavy hair—the exact hair color he had once marched me to a salon to dye back to black after it had only survived for half a day. I tapped my fresh cat-eye acrylic nails on the table, wearing a smug expression that basically screamed: You might hate how I look, but you can’t send me to the principal’s office anymore. “Wow~ Mr. Harrison is getting up there in age. How is it that no one wants you yet?” Since he wasn’t my teacher anymore, I took the initiative to mock him first. Carter Harrison’s eyes crinkled slightly. He folded his hands together and let out a soft chuckle. “Likewise. Didn’t Chloe’s little high school romance fail to bloom?” He wore an expression that said he had predicted my failure all along. Hmph. Whether it bloomed or not, he knew exactly why. “Well, that’s all thanks to Mr. Harrison’s earnest interventions back then. I imagine the students today are much harder to manage, especially since you’re getting so old.” I was deliberately lying through my teeth. The older man wasn’t old at all; in fact, he was incredibly attractive. His brows relaxed, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a faint smirk. “And that’s all thanks to how ‘obedient’ and ‘well-behaved’ you were. You cured me of ever wanting to be a homeroom teacher again.” Perfect. It was finally time for me to repay his teaching grace. I was going to return every scolding and detention I had ever endured right back to him. 02 “Since we’ve caught up on the past, let’s talk about some sensitive topics.” I flipped my hair, resting my chin on one hand, and shot Carter a sly smile. “Mr. Harrison, I hear your family is pushing you pretty hard. Why don’t we just make do with each other? At least we know each other’s backgrounds.” Carter’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He cleared his throat softly. “You’re a wonderful girl, Chloe, but I’m approaching thirty. I’m afraid I’d be wasting your prime years.” Look at that. Even his rejections were elegantly phrased. “Oh, I don’t mind. I like guys who will kick the bucket before I do and leave me a good pension,” I blurted out. After a moment of awkward silence, Carter spoke slowly: “We used to have a teacher-student relationship. You know the saying: Don’t fish off the company pier.” I looked into his deep, handsome eyes and let out a light laugh. “What a coincidence. I’m a very lazy fisherman~” My words actually made Carter stifle a laugh. He rubbed his temples and sighed with a hint of helplessness. “It seems your rebellious phase is unusually long.” “It’s alright. It’s nothing compared to how long you’ve been single,” I fired back. “I haven’t seen you in a few years, but your debate skills have certainly improved.” “I’m flattered. It’s all thanks to Mr. Harrison’s excellent teaching.” … Great. Even though I got the upper hand in the banter, I had completely killed the conversation. That is, until a booming voice shattered the awkwardness. “Carter! What are you doing here?” I looked up. Well, well. If it wasn’t Coach Davis, my high school PE teacher. “Who’s this?” Coach Davis asked Carter with a gossipy grin. Suddenly, he stared at my face for a few seconds, his eyes darting back and forth. “Why does this girl look so familiar?” Carter spoke calmly. “Chloe.” Coach Davis had a sudden epiphany. “Oh! The girl whose high school romance gave you so much insomnia!” Me: … “Wow, you look so different! I almost didn’t recognize you. So, did things ever work out with that boy you were dating?” Me: Thanks. Thanks a lot. Way to bring up the one thing no one wanted to talk about. How completely inappropriate. I let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t know, Coach. Have you cured that mysterious illness that made you constantly cancel our PE classes?” “Ha! I ended up marrying your Spanish teacher, so I just gave all my class periods to her,” Coach Davis said cheerfully, completely oblivious. He looked between us. “What are you two doing here anyway?” … Carter and I looked at each other. “Why don’t we call it a day?” he suggested first. “Sure. Want to exchange numbers, Mr. Harrison? Please seriously consider my proposal,” I asked. He pulled up his QR code, and I successfully added him. I drove off in my pink Volkswagen Beetle, and he drove off in his black Honda Accord, heading our separate ways. 03 As soon as I got home, my mom turned into a relentless gossip reporter, following me around the house. “Quick, tell your mother! How is he?” “He’s fine.” My mom pressed further. “Your Aunt Mary said he’s a high school teacher. What school? You wouldn’t even have to worry about your future kids’ education!” I gave a dry laugh. “He teaches at my old high school.” My mom instantly became even more thrilled. “Oh my goodness! Isn’t that fate?! You already know everything about him. You even have a foundation of feelings!” A foundation of feelings? Oh yes, the foundation was very deep. During the second semester of my senior year, our homeroom teacher went on maternity leave, and Carter became our temporary homeroom teacher. Back then, the school divided students into AP/Honors classes and standard classes. Our class was the most chaotic standard class in the school. It was composed of art kids, jocks, and chronic slackers. We were the Avengers of Disappointment. And I was what the teachers referred to as “a special case,” “a constant headache,” and “a lost cause.” Back then, Mr. Harrison had worried his heart out over our class. He talked until his voice went hoarse and almost ruined his health trying to keep us in line. “Chloe, do you have a dream?” “My dream is to become the principal of this school so I can give Mr. Harrison a raise.” … “Chloe, when are you going to finish memorizing The Great Gatsby?” “Next year…” … “Question: What literary era did Edgar Allan Poe belong to? Chloe, what did you write?” “I wrote… the Emo Era…” … I was the quintessential rebellious teenager, and Carter was the quintessential strict, father-figure teacher. And he was determined to fix me. Because I was always talking to my desk mate during class, he changed my seat no less than ten times. I had occupied every single quadrant of that classroom. Finally, I told him, “Mr. Harrison, you can stop trying. I can talk to literally anyone you sit me next to.” In the end, he created a special VIP seat for me right next to his podium. And it was right under his nose that he discovered my love letter. He had heard that teenage couples liked to sneak off and make out under the stadium bleachers after late-night study sessions. So, he started staking out the bleachers every single night to catch me. Then he rewarded me with a familiar day-trip to the faculty office. He earnestly lectured me about how high school romance was a tree that bloomed but bore no fruit. I wouldn’t listen. He lectured me again: “Don’t date in high school, the quality is terrible. Wait until college to find someone to grow old with.” I talked back. “Did you find someone to grow old with in college, Mr. Harrison?” He sighed. “Chloe, you can’t even pick the right answer out of four options on a test. Do you really think you can find the right guy out of 330 million people?” I looked at him with absolute confidence. “He is the right one.” Carter looked exasperated. “Then tell me, what exactly do you like about him?” I said, “He’s gentle, handsome, and refined.” Carter looked at me in pure disbelief. “Love really is blind. Where exactly is Hunter Crawford, that meathead jock, gentle or refined?” Hunter Crawford was a track-and-field recruit in our class. All brawn, no brains. We had been classmates since middle school. The day he found out I secretly liked him, he excitedly ran ten miles. “Chloe… I actually… I really like you too.” Seeing that he couldn’t convince me, Carter tried to talk to Hunter instead. “Dating too early leads nowhere. You’re just training someone else’s future wife.” “Someone else’s wife? Mr. Harrison, when you put it like that, it actually sounds kind of thrilling…” 04 The past was too embarrassing to look back on. After washing up, I found a comfortable spot on my bed and opened Carter’s profile. He still had the same generic landscape profile picture. When I clicked on his page, it was completely blank. In this day and age, there were still people who didn’t post anything on social media? Those people were the scariest. It was the classic: I don’t want to miss your life, but don’t even think about knowing anything about mine. I sent a text: “Mr. Harrison, what are you doing?” I waited a long time. No reply… I opened my phone and queued up a game of Valorant. And the result… You have been slain. Defeat. A five-game losing streak… I was furious. Some people drive at night to clear their heads, some look at the ocean, and some are in their twenties getting called “absolute trash” by twelve-year-olds online. I was already absolute trash at the game, why couldn’t I be his type? I remembered playing games secretly in class and getting caught by Carter. He had placed my phone on the projector desk and made the entire class watch. Watch how I died over and over, got flamed by my teammates, and eventually got reported for throwing. I had played the game for four years and was still hardstuck in Bronze. The angrier I got, the more I thought about it. Carter still hadn’t replied. I opened my messages and texted him again: “Mr. Harrison, is it a felony to reply to a text where you’re from?” “If you aren’t going to reply, you might as well trade your phone in for a toaster.” Still nothing… “Mr. Harrison, did the principal confiscate your phone?” Back in the day, Carter would use any trick in the book to confiscate our phones. He once told us our English pronunciation was terrible, so he asked us all to say “Hey Siri” to test our accents. After we said it, half the phones hidden in desks across the classroom lit up and chimed, “I’m listening.” Just think about how devious that man was. … My phone buzzed with a notification: “Apologies. I had something to take care of and wasn’t looking at my phone.” 05 Immediately after, I got a text from my high school classmate, Sarah Jenkins. “Chloe, make sure you come tomorrow!” I almost forgot. Tomorrow was her wedding, and she was marrying Kevin, our class valedictorian. “By the way, the wedding officiant is our old homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison.” Me: … These two sneaks. Not only did they secretly date in high school, but they even invited the teacher who tried to stop them to officiate their wedding. I really wanted to give her a slow clap. Just then, my mom slammed my bedroom door open, looking uncontrollably excited. “Chloe! Your Aunt Mary just called. The guy from today had a really good impression of you!” A good impression? Who was the one who said he was afraid of wasting my prime years? My mom clearly didn’t understand an English teacher’s polite rejections. “Your aunt said his parents were academics, and the guy is already a distinguished teacher at such a young age. That’s a proper intellectual family, perfectly matched with ours, haha…” I rubbed my forehead, looking at my mother who was desperate to marry me off immediately. “A distinguished teacher from a family of academics, and a nouveau riche slacker from a bottom-tier college. Mom, where exactly do you see a perfect match?” It was true. My family was the textbook definition of newly wealthy. We didn’t have much culture, but we owned a lot of real estate. “Wh-what bottom-tier college slacker? You’re a wealthy heiress who studied abroad!” Yep, my mom knew exactly how to rebrand me. She kept rambling. “Your aunt said he was raised by his aunt since he was little. His aunt’s health isn’t great right now, so she’s really worrying about him settling down.” “I think this Mr. Harrison is a great catch. You better put in some effort and make me proud!” Heh… I wanted to make her proud, too. But I genuinely knew nothing about Carter’s family background before this. After finally shooing my mom out, I pulled up my phone and texted Carter: “Mr. Harrison, I heard you had a good impression of me?” It took a while before I got a reply: “I have always had a good impression of you, Chloe.” I rolled my eyes. English teachers really knew how to use sarcasm perfectly. “Mr. Harrison, my car is in the shop tomorrow. I heard you’re also going to Sarah’s wedding. Can I hitch a ride with you?” My car being broken was a lie; wanting him to pick me up was the truth. I dropped him my address. He replied: “Alright.” Ahhhh… I hugged my blanket and rolled around happily. 06 The next day, I slept in until the sun was high. Carter arrived downstairs right on time. He was wearing a gray trench coat, the hem fluttering slightly in the wind. He leaned against his car with his sharp eyebrows, striking eyes, and a faint smile on his lips. He was already a gentle, elegant man, but the coat made him look even more sophisticated. Seeing me walk out, he waved, the curve of his smile deepening. I had to admit, the scene was incredibly striking… I was such a sucker for a handsome face. He hit every single one of my weak spots… I slid into the passenger seat of his black Honda Accord. The interior was completely black. It felt exactly like riding in my dad’s car… “Um… Mr. Harrison, don’t you think this car doesn’t really fit your vibe?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Then what would fit? A pink Volkswagen Beetle?” he chuckled. “Uh… a GTR?” A flashy sports car paired with his restrained, handsome face. Just thinking about it was amazing. “Chloe, a public school teacher must, above all, keep a low profile.” Carter reminded me. Heh… This was way too low profile. I felt like I was sitting in an Uber. The wedding venue was lively, basically a massive high school reunion. “Chloe, over here!” “Wow, why did Mr. Harrison come with you?” A few classmates waved us over. “I bumped into him on the way and hitched a ride,” I explained with a smile. “Mr. Harrison, please, take a seat!” A few classmates ushered him over. “Come on, Chloe, sit next to your rumored boyfriend.” A classmate teased, making room for me. Sitting in that spot was Hunter Crawford. I hadn’t seen him in years, but he was still the same muscular, sunny jock. “Stop spreading rumors…” He threatened the guy next to him. I didn’t refuse and sat down in the empty seat. “Well, you and Chloe are both single. You might as well just get together.” “Dating now doesn’t count as a high school romance anymore, so Mr. Harrison can’t stop you. If you guys actually tie the knot, you should have Mr. Harrison officiate yours too.” “Isn’t that right, Mr. Harrison?” Our old classmates chimed in one after another, teasing us. 07 Carter gave a soft smile but didn’t respond. The MC invited the officiant to speak, so he stood up and walked toward the stage. I watched him on stage—tall, long-legged, with a breezy smile. He calmly took the microphone and began to speak. “Hello everyone, I am the bride and groom’s high school homeroom teacher. As you all know, dating was strictly forbidden in high school. So standing up here today, I feel a bit terrified. I feel like I completely failed at my job.” The crowd erupted in laughter and applause. “As their teacher, I witnessed their youth, I witnessed their beautiful teenage years, and I witnessed the joy of them getting into college. “To be honest, when they first got together, I rejected it. Just as they mentioned, they started their long-distance relationship right under my nose. They were one of the many couples I tried to tear apart. But they used their happiness to slap me in the face. And I hope to receive many more slaps of happiness like this in the future.” Carter’s humorous speech drew another round of applause, and I couldn’t help but laugh along. But Hunter, sitting right next to me, suddenly spoke up: “Chloe, I have a crazy theory…” I looked at him, confused. “?” Hunter leaned in close, hesitating before whispering nervously: “The guy you liked in high school… it couldn’t have been…” He gestured toward Carter on the stage with his eyes. My heart suddenly tightened. I panicked and blurted out: “That is a crazy theory…” Back then, everyone thought I had a crush on Hunter. It was a rainy afternoon during Carter’s literature class. I wrote a note on a piece of paper: “It’s raining outside. You’re not looking at me, and I’m not looking at the rain. —CH” A gust of wind blew the paper directly to the feet of Hunter, who was sitting behind me. He picked it up, read it, and his face turned bright red. “Chloe… you actually have a crush on me?” His voice was a bit too loud and caught Carter’s attention. From that day on, Carter targeted both of us… Everyone assumed “CH” meant Crawford, Hunter. But it didn’t. Actually, the first time I met him, I was sixteen. He just didn’t remember. From the very beginning, I knew my crush was a silent play. Speaking it out loud would only turn it into a tragedy. So, the fact that I liked him was a secret I never dared to confess. Dreaming about my own teacher felt like I didn’t respect myself, and it felt like an insult to him. So I had to do rebellious things just to get his attention, wondering if he would remember me better that way. Thinking back on it now, it was so childish. Until graduation day. Crying, I handed Carter a bouquet of white hyacinths and stuttered, “Mr. Harrison, actually… I… I don’t hate you at all…” After that, my family arranged for me to study abroad. Years had passed. I never expected our paths to cross again.

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What my wife, Stella, did completely shattered my understanding of human decency. At the time, she mistakenly thought I was lying about her mother being bitten by a venomous snake and clinging to life. As a result, she literally stood by and watched her favorite male student inject the only vial of universal antivenom into a stray dog. Worse still, she stood there viciously cursing her own mother, wishing death upon her. Seeing her true colors, I simply replied to her message with a single word. Pathetic. I immediately turned around and uploaded the audio recording of our conversation, along with screenshots of that male student boasting about the dog on his social media, straight to the university’s public message board. I even had the perfect title ready. Risking Her Own Mother’s Life to Save a Stray Dog. Is This Our University’s ‘Daughter of the Year’? She loved to gloat, didn’t she? Well, she could just wait. Once the tidal wave of public outrage drowned her, I wanted to see if she could still smile. 1 In less than ten minutes, the comments under the forum post had surpassed a thousand. Stella was a highly respected professor at the university. Now that she had committed such an unforgivable and twisted act, the university board was furious. Rumors were already circulating that they were going to strip her of her position. Furious, she bombarded me with over a dozen voice messages, ordering me to delete the post. “My mother has always been in poor health. If the snake venom had really reached her heart, she wouldn’t have survived long enough for me to get the serum to her anyway. Rather than wasting it, it’s better to help a poor animal!” I let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. “The person bitten by that snake is your own mother! Get your ass to the ER right now!” The other end of the line was dead silent for a second. Then, the cursing began. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Arthur?” “My mom has bad knees. She would never go hiking in a state park.” “Besides, if she was really hurt, wouldn’t she have called me herself?” If my mother-in-law could have reached her, she wouldn’t have had to call me as her last resort. Just then, the red light above the resuscitation room behind me flicked off. The attending doctor walked out, shaking his head with a look of deep regret. “The venom has spread entirely. The patient is experiencing multiple organ failure. You should go in and say your final goodbyes.” I immediately sent Stella a video call request. I pointed the camera directly at the sterile hospital bed. When the call connected, the screen didn’t show Stella. It showed Felix’s face. “Arthur, there is something I’m really curious about. Silver Peak is a highly regulated state park. How could there be venomous snakes there? Are you just making this up to steal the formula for the universal antivenom?” “I am not!” Stella scoffed coldly from somewhere off-camera. “No wonder you’ve been so obsessed with the progress of the antivenom lately. Now you’re cursing my mother to death just to get your hands on my finished samples?” “You are absolutely shameless, Arthur!” A second later, she snatched the phone and terminated the video call. I laughed out of pure anger. Just as I was about to dial back, my mother-in-law’s trembling hand gripped my wrist. Her eyes were unfocused, darting around the empty room. “Is it Stella? Why isn’t she here yet?” I knew Martha had been holding on by a thread solely to see her daughter one last time. But the person she was waiting for was never going to show up. I stayed silent for a long moment before my voice broke. “Traffic is really bad. She’s almost here. Just hold on a little longer, Martha.” Her pale lips quivered. She clearly had something left to say. I leaned in close and caught her raspy, choked whispers. “Arthur, I failed at raising my daughter. I am so sorry for what she put you through. Please, don’t give up on her.” I didn’t say a word. Last month, at Martha’s sixtieth birthday dinner, Stella had brazenly brought Felix along. Right at the dining table, in front of our entire family, she had hand-peeled shrimp and fed them to him. I demanded a divorce right then and there. The shock and humiliation triggered a mild heart attack for Martha. The ordeal only ended when Stella swore to me that she would cut off all contact with Felix. But from that day on, she stopped coming home. Not long after, using her research project as an excuse, she started sleeping around with him again. That was exactly why Martha had traveled up the mountain. She had gone to an old chapel at the peak of Silver Peak to pray for our crumbling marriage. She had no wilderness experience. When she was bitten, she didn’t even know if the snake was venomous until the toxins rapidly spread through her bloodstream, leaving her on the brink of death. The only thing that could save her was a dose of broad-spectrum universal antivenom. Coincidentally, the latest breakthrough at Stella’s research institute was exactly that. I had called her the absolute second I found out. She had sworn up and down that she would deliver it in time. Yet, it still ended like this. I couldn’t even describe the twisted knot of grief and rage in my chest. Meeting Martha’s desperate, hopeful gaze, I finally let out a heavy sigh. “I will take good care of her for you. I promise.” 2 Stella blocked me on every single platform. But someone had to handle Martha’s funeral arrangements. I had no choice but to go to the city clerk’s office to get the necessary next-of-kin paperwork. The clerk behind the glass looked at my ID, frowned, and pushed the documents back to me. “Sir, our system shows that your marital status is single.” “You must have a power of attorney signed by the deceased’s immediate legal family member before we can process anything for you.” I froze. Three years ago, Stella and I went to City Hall together. I literally watched the clerk stamp the official seal onto our marriage certificate. How on earth could I be single? “There must be a glitch in the system. Here is our marriage certificate. Could you please run the names again?” The clerk typed a few things into her keyboard and turned the monitor toward me. “Stella’s legal husband is named Felix.” “The state database doesn’t make mistakes like this. As for how this happened, I really couldn’t tell you.” I stared blankly at the timeline on the screen. The date of their marriage registration was last October. A memory suddenly clicked into place. Around that time, Stella told me her institute had taken on a highly classified government project. As her spouse, she claimed I needed to sign a strict non-disclosure agreement. She had rushed me so aggressively that I signed the paperwork without reading the fine print. Looking back now, the problem was definitely hidden inside that stack of papers. What an incredible bait-and-switch. No wonder she didn’t look panicked at all when I demanded a divorce at the family dinner last month. Stepping out of City Hall, I received a call from the hospital morgue. They were asking when Martha’s body would be transferred for cremation. Martha’s dying pleas echoed in my ears. She had begged me to believe that Stella was just being manipulated, that she had simply taken a wrong turn in life, and begged me not to blame her. But legally, I was a complete stranger. I had absolutely no right to offer forgiveness, let alone plan a funeral. “I am sorry,” I said calmly into the phone. “I am not Martha’s legal family. I don’t have the authority to make those decisions.” “Furthermore, her daughter hasn’t even seen her one last time. Please transport the body directly to the university campus to find her daughter.” I hung up and took a cab back to my house. But the moment I unlocked the front door, I saw Felix pinning a half-undressed Stella against my living room sofa. Hearing the door click, they scrambled to sit up in a panic. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” Stella frowned at me in deep annoyance. The fresh red hickeys on her neck were blindingly obvious. I sneered, stepping inside and deliberately stepping right on Felix’s expensive jacket that had been tossed onto the floor. “Do I need to report to you when I return to my own house?” “I am giving you five minutes. If you aren’t out of my sight by then, I’m calling the cops and reporting a home invasion.” Hearing this, Felix put on a sickeningly pathetic face and bowed to me apologetically. “I am so sorry, Arthur. I was just worried about the Professor walking home alone, so I escorted her. Please don’t misunderstand.” Escorting her home. Did that require lying half-naked on the sofa? I didn’t have the energy to argue. I turned and walked straight into the master bedroom. Staring at the massive wedding photo hanging on the wall, I felt nothing but pure irony. Stella was living in the house I paid for in cash, yet she had tricked me into signing a divorce agreement. And now, she was brazenly bringing Felix into my living room. I walked over, ripped the wedding photo off the wall, and threw all of our matching couple’s items directly into the trash. Just as I finished, I heard the front door slam shut. I intended to walk out and finally lay everything on the table with her. But the moment I stepped into the hallway, I found two police officers standing in my entryway. Stella pointed a manicured finger right at my chest. “Officers, I want to report this man for attempting to steal classified national research formulas for illegal profit!” 3 My head snapped up in utter shock. “You are lying!” “Stella, I never lied to you today. Your mother was really bitten by a venomous snake and needed that serum.” “She called your name until her final breath, and you didn’t even care enough to check. If you don’t believe me, I will call the morgue right now.” Stella marched forward and slapped me hard across the face. She let out a cruel laugh. “After all those words, you’re just mad that I didn’t fall for your trap, aren’t you?” “You said my mom was dying? Open your eyes and look closely. My mom texted me half an hour ago to tell me she was perfectly safe!” She shoved her phone screen directly into my face. The contact labeled ‘Mom’ had indeed sent a message thirty minutes ago. Princess, everything is fine. But I knew Martha inside and out. She never, ever called Stella ‘Princess’. That message was absolutely not sent by her. I opened my mouth to point this out. But Felix stepped right into my personal space. He threw an arm over my shoulder in a mock-friendly gesture. “Arthur, the institute invited you to join us earlier this year, but you rejected the Director’s offer because you weren’t happy with the salary. Now you’re jealous that we made a breakthrough, and you want to steal the formula to sell it? That is just pathetic.” “When you get to the station, make sure you confess everything. Maybe you can learn to be a better person when you get out.” His blatant provocation completely snapped my last nerve. Not even caring that the police were standing right there, I drove my fist straight into his smug face. “Why don’t you just die, you absolute piece of trash?” The man beneath me didn’t even try to fight back. He practically absorbed my punches, making sure to dramatically cover his face and whimper. “Arthur, I know you hate me.” “But I never blamed you for interfering in my marriage or harassing my wife. How do you have the nerve to play the victim here?” Stella decided to drop all pretenses. She forcefully shoved me away from him. Then, she pulled a document from the coffee table drawer and threw it directly at my face. “You are the one trespassing, and you are the one who deserves to rot!” “Read it carefully, Arthur. Half a year ago, you voluntarily signed an agreement giving up all marital assets. What right do you have to bark in my house?” “You maliciously slandered my mother’s name for your own selfish greed, and you assaulted my husband. I am not letting this go!” The sharp edge of the thick paper sliced a thin cut across my cheek. But I acted as if I couldn’t feel it. My hands tightly gripped the thin sheets of paper. So, she had planned this all along. Even this house, the one I had purchased entirely with my own money, was now legally a “voluntary gift” I had handed over to her. After a long silence, I looked up, a mocking smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “You really played a good game, Stella.” “But I promise you, you are going to regret this.” She crossed her arms, watching coldly as the police handcuffed me and led me to the cruiser. Right as the car door was about to close, I saw Felix pull a phone out of his pocket behind Stella’s back. My mind exploded. My eyes went wide. That was Martha’s phone. Why on earth did he have it? Felix shot me a triumphant, arrogant smirk. I could clearly read his lips. You are always going to be a loser. 4 It wasn’t until I was sitting in the interrogation room that I finally processed everything. Martha had always treated me well. When my own parents were hospitalized from a bad accident, she drained her retirement fund just to help me cover their medical bills. Every holiday, there was always a plate of sweet and sour ribs on the table, just because she knew it was my favorite. In the past, Stella used to mock me for it, saying a grown man shouldn’t have a sweet tooth. But Martha never cared. She always defended me to Stella. “Arthur works hard for this family. I’m just glad he likes my cooking.” And now, after her tragic death, she was being used as a pawn in a sick game, and I was forced to watch the mastermind gloat. After I gave my statement and the police verified the actual timeline of events, they realized the assault was a minor domestic dispute and the espionage claim was baseless. I was released without charges. As I walked out, my phone buzzed with a text from Stella. For the sake of our past, I’ll drop the assault charges. But the condition is that you must publicly apologize to Felix. Otherwise, once the allegations of you trying to steal state research go public, your entire career is over. Seeing how blissfully unaware of her own impending doom she was, I typed out a quick reply. I agree. Stella thought I was terrified. She happily called me, demanding I take a cab straight to the university campus. I was to apologize in front of the entire university board for my behavior. On the ride over, I called the funeral home. “Please transport Ms. Martha’s casket to Oakbridge University right now.” “I sent you her daughter’s phone number earlier. When you arrive, just call her to accept the delivery.” The director readily agreed. I hung up the phone and pushed open the door of the cab. Stella was already waiting for me with the university board and a swarm of local media reporters in tow. “I invited everyone here today primarily to clarify a few things,” she announced, her voice steady and professional. She didn’t even glance in my direction. “As many of you know, Arthur and I were married for three years. But we legally divorced six months ago. Despite that, for the past half-year, he has continued to harass me. He aggressively tried to force his way between me and my new husband, Felix.” “Out of respect for our past, I tolerated his behavior. But I never imagined that because he couldn’t have me, he would try to destroy me. He lied about my mother being bitten by a snake, trying to trick me into abandoning the institute’s serum.” “Arthur caused this disaster, and he should take full responsibility for it.” The crowd erupted. The reporters sighed in sympathy for Stella’s “endurance” and turned their cameras toward me, openly spitting insults. Amidst the flashing cameras, Felix stepped forward. “Arthur, Stella and I are willing to let the past go. But to try and steal classified research for your own profit is unacceptable.” “Since everyone is here today, give a proper apology. You owe it to all the researchers who worked on that project.” “Get on your knees. Show some actual sincerity.” I curled my lips into an icy smile. “I can apologize. Forget kneeling, I’ll even bow my head to the floor.” “But before I do that, I have a few things to say as well.” I pulled out my phone and played the audio clips of Felix’s provocations, swiping through the screenshots of his obnoxious social media posts. “You claim I have no shame and that I interfered in your marriage. But for the past six months, I am the one who has been constantly harassed.” “And I never lied about today. I can prove it to you right now.” Without missing a beat, I dialed Martha’s phone number in front of the dozens of rolling cameras. A second later, a loud ringing sound vibrated from Felix’s coat pocket. He panicked, frantically pressing his hand against his pocket to muffle the sound, but it was useless. Stella rushed over and ripped the phone out of his coat. “Why do you have my mother’s phone?” Felix stuttered, completely unable to form a coherent sentence. Right at that exact moment, Stella’s own phone began to ring. A gruff voice echoed over the murmur of the confused crowd. “Which one of you is Ms. Stella? We need a signature for the delivery of your mother’s body.”

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1 I was three months pregnant when I found a half-empty condom box in my husband Kevin’s car. I demanded a divorce immediately, not even knowing who the other woman was. He begged on our porch for days. My best friend Brooke warned, “Men are unreliable. Let me set you up, and you should lose the baby—it’ll only hold you back.” But I couldn’t. Each time I touched my growing belly, I softened. We reconciled. Kevin changed—came home early, gave me his unlocked phone, even added a GPS tracker. My mother said a changed man is precious. I believed her. Until the day I started bleeding heavily. Rushed to maternity in agony, I needed a signature for an emergency C-section. Shaking, I called Kevin over and over. No answer. Finally, he picked up, voice sharp with impatience. “One late night and you’re already tracking me?” A woman’s laugh cut in from the background, clear and cold: “You haven’t even fixed things with Brooke yet, and your wife is checking up. Aren’t you scared she’ll find out?” White noise flooded my ears. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone, desperately hoping I had misheard. Then came Kevin’s low, familiar voice. “If she was going to catch me, she would have done it by now.” I could practically hear the smirk on his face. “It’s her own fault for telling Brooke everything. It just makes logistics easier for us. Plus, Brooke actually knows how to act. She’s wild in bed and easy to keep happy.” His buddy gave a half-hearted warning. “Have your fun, man, but keep it in check. If you end up putting the girl in the hospital, things are gonna blow up.” Their laughter echoed through the speaker, twisting like a serrated blade in my chest. No wonder Brooke hadn’t come to visit me the last couple of days. She said she was “busy.” Right after Kevin and I got married, Brooke moved into the apartment right next to ours, claiming she wanted to be close to her best friend. Her appliances were always magically breaking down, giving her the perfect excuse to knock on our door and ask Kevin to fix them. I had never thought twice about it. The day I first caught Kevin cheating, I was a sobbing mess. I called Brooke. When she rushed over to comfort me, there was a fresh hickey bruised into her collarbone. I didn’t connect the dots. I didn’t even notice the faint, triumphant little smile playing on her lips while she held me. Back then, I was obsessed with finding out who the homewrecker was. Kevin swore he had been black-out drunk and couldn’t even remember the woman’s face. I went crazy playing detective, stalking the socials of every woman in his orbit. I found nothing. I stopped sleeping. I couldn’t understand why the man who vowed to cherish me forever would throw it all away. I fell into a deep depression, paranoid of everyone around me. And Brooke was the one who held my hand through it all. Eventually, for the sake of the baby and the years of history we shared, I went back to him. But the reconciliation was tainted. Every time Kevin tried to be intimate, my mind would instantly flash to the image of him sweating over someone else. Nausea would rise in my throat. I would physically shove him away. “Just… give me some time,” I had pleaded. He had looked so hurt. He nodded, eyes red. “It’s okay. I’ll wait as long as it takes.” After that, he played the role of the perfect husband. Breakfast in bed, drawing my evening baths to the perfect temperature. He even volunteered to sleep in the guest room, promising to give me space until my trauma healed. I really thought things were getting better. I really thought he had changed. But a cheater never stops. They just get better at hiding. Another violent wave of pain hit me. The phone slipped from my sweaty fingers and clattered onto the linoleum. Hot fluid gushed between my legs, soaking the hospital sheets. “The patient’s vitals are crashing! We’re out of time, prep the OR for an immediate C-section!” Cold steel instruments brushed against my skin. The blinding surgical lights faded into total darkness. When I finally opened my eyes again, the doctor was standing over me, his expression grave. “The fetal asphyxia lasted too long. We did everything we could.” I stared blankly at the ceiling. Tears spilled over my temples, soaking into my hair. Because of my fragile health, I had to go through IVF. I endured daily hormone injections until my arms were bruised black and blue. I swallowed handfuls of pills that ruined my stomach lining, all to finally conceive this child. The day we found out I was pregnant, Kevin wept tears of joy. He went to the local chapel and prayed all night, thanking God for our miracle. Brooke had hugged me so tight, practically squealing about how excited she was to be the godmother. But now… maybe God just didn’t want me wasting any more of my life on this toxic marriage. So He took my baby back. Ignoring the tearing pain in my abdomen, I dragged my hollow, exhausted body out of the recovery room. I walked straight to the nurse’s station and asked for Brooke’s room number. As I turned to leave, I overheard two nurses gossiping behind the counter. “That patient is so lucky. Her boyfriend is amazing.” “I know, right? When she came in sick last month, he stayed by her bed the entire night. Didn’t even close his eyes.” My footsteps faltered. Last month. That was my birthday. Kevin had promised to get off work early. He had even pre-ordered my favorite cake. But as the sun went down, all I got was a phone call. “I’m so sorry, babe. Emergency out-of-town conference. I can’t make it tonight.” He had FaceTimed me from a generic-looking hotel room just to prove it, swearing up and down how guilty he felt. I was disappointed, but I told him not to overwork himself. He never texted back. I assumed he was busy. He was busy, alright. Busy taking care of my best friend. 2 I stood outside Brooke’s hospital room. I raised my hand to knock, but my fingers were trembling so violently I couldn’t make a sound. Through the thin door, Brooke’s whiny, sweet voice drifted out into the hallway. “Once you’re a daddy, you’re going to spend all your time taking care of your wife and kid. You’re going to forget all about me.” Kevin’s response was lazy, laced with a casual arrogance. “We’ll split it. She gets me Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. You get me Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Deal?” “What if she catches us again? Who are you going to pick? Me or her?” I didn’t wait to hear his answer. I grabbed the handle and shoved the door open. Two heads snapped toward me, their faces draining of color. I forced a stiff, mocking smile onto my face. “I heard my husband went so hard he ruptured my best friend’s ovarian cyst. Thought I’d drop by and check on the patient.” The first time I caught Kevin cheating, he looked like he was going to vomit. He was a trembling, frantic mess, terrified I would walk away. This time, he was infuriatingly calm. He looked at my disheveled hair, my swollen, bloodshot eyes, and just let out a heavy sigh. “Sarah, let me explain. It’s not what you think.” Seeing him so composed made something snap inside me. I choked back a sob, my voice cracking. “Did you forget what you promised me?! You swore on your life there wouldn’t be a next time! And with her? How could either of you look me in the eye?!” All the tiny, overlooked details from the past year suddenly flooded my mind, slotting perfectly into place. Whenever Brooke came over for dinner, she intentionally went braless. When I gently suggested she cover up, she just rolled her eyes and laughed. “It’s the twenty-first century, Sarah! Free the nipple!” She acted so righteous about it that I ended up feeling like a prudish, jealous housewife. I remembered coming back from the bathroom at a restaurant once, catching Brooke reapplying her lipstick, her breathing slightly heavy. Kevin was wiping his mouth with a napkin. The air between them was thick and sticky, but I had been entirely blind to it. Then there was the time Kevin had to go away for a week-long “business trip,” right around the same time Brooke announced she was going on a solo vacation. When Kevin got back, he gifted me a pair of stunning diamond earrings. I cherished them. A few days later, I noticed Brooke wearing a diamond necklace with the exact same cut and setting. I thought it was just a coincidence. Now I realized the earrings I refused to take off were just the free gift that came with her necklace. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I raised my hand, fully intending to slap the life out of Brooke. “I treated you like my sister! Is this how you repay me?!” I had known Brooke longer than I had known Kevin. When I was twenty, I was in a horrific car accident. Brooke stayed in the waiting room until dawn, praying for my survival. When I needed a massive blood transfusion, she stepped up without hesitation, donating until she passed out from severe anemia. When I woke up and called her an idiot while crying, she just gave me a pale, weak smile. “You’re my best friend, Sarah. I can’t lose you.” When I found out Kevin was cheating, she was the only person in the world I didn’t suspect. And in the end, it was my best friend who slid the knife the deepest into my back. Before my hand could make contact with her face, a strong grip clamped around my wrist. Kevin stared down at me, his eyes dark, acting like he was dealing with an unreasonable toddler. “Sarah, I’m a normal guy. I have physical needs. You have to be realistic.” “You wouldn’t let me touch you. What was I supposed to do? I had to find somewhere to blow off steam.” “You’re pregnant. Stop causing a scene.” I froze. A pathetic, acidic burn stung my nose. How long had it been since he actually looked at me? He didn’t even notice that my stomach was flat. The baby was gone. A hollow, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips, but the tears fell faster. “We’re getting a divorce, Kevin.” He paused for a second, then gave a dismissive scoff. “Don’t pull the divorce card again. It was exhausting the first time. You’re a mother now. Act like an adult. You really want our baby to grow up in a broken home?” Maybe he thought my love for the child made me weak. Maybe he thought I was completely trapped. He let go of my wrist, stepping forward to pull me into a suffocating hug, lowering his voice to a coaxing whisper. “Look, Brooke and I just needed to scratch an itch. There are no real feelings there. You’re the only woman I actually love.” “As soon as you’re ready to be a real wife to me again, I swear I won’t touch another woman. And honestly, considering how close you two are, it’s better I do it with her than some random escort off the street, right?” His cologne mixed with the sterile hospital smell made my stomach heave. I shoved my hands against his chest, ready to fight my way out. But as I turned my head, I saw my mother standing in the doorway. I didn’t know how long she had been there. Her face was an ashen, terrifying gray. Her chest was heaving erratically. On our wedding day, Kevin had gotten down on one knee in front of my mother, swearing he would protect me with his life. Three years later, he had shattered that promise twice over. My mother’s lips trembled violently. She raised a shaking finger, pointing at the two of them. She only managed to choke out the word “You…” before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed hard onto the floor. 3 Kevin panicked, taking a step toward her. I shoved him back with everything I had, dropping to my knees to cradle my mother’s limp body, screaming for a doctor. The diagnosis was a severe stroke triggered by massive emotional trauma. After hours of agonizing resuscitation, they moved her to the ICU. “You need to prepare yourself for the worst,” the doctor told me gently. “Even if she stabilizes, she may remain in a vegetative state.” The words felt like a slow, deliberate execution. I broke down right there in the hallway, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. My father died when I was young. My mother sacrificed everything to raise me. When she first met Kevin, my usually fierce, independent mother had teared up. Before he left our house that night, she handed him my late father’s vintage watch, officially accepting him into the family. “Sarah has a pure heart,” she had told him. “Please treat her well. Don’t break her.” The first time Kevin’s affair came to light, my mother drove straight to our house to defend me. She looked him dead in the eye and said, “If you don’t love my daughter anymore, just let her go. Stop making her suffer.” I snapped back to the present, pressing my face against my mother’s ice-cold cheek. My voice was a broken whisper. “Mom, don’t worry. I won’t let them step on me anymore.” “I’m leaving him. For real this time.” As if she heard me, two tears slipped out from the corners of my mother’s closed eyes. Once she was stable enough, I left the hospital to meet with a lawyer to draft a bulletproof divorce agreement. The lawyer, Nathan, was an old college classmate. As our meeting ended, he slid a sleek black business card across the table. “If things get rough, call me. Anytime.” When I walked back into my mother’s hospital room, I froze. Brooke was kneeling by the bed, her eyes red, putting on a flawless performance of a remorseful sinner. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller,” she cried softly. “I was the one who seduced Kevin. I betrayed Sarah.” “But please don’t be mad at him. If you want to blame someone, blame your daughter. She’s the one who divorced him and then came crawling back like a pathetic dog.” My mother was awake. Her whole body was seizing with violent tremors, her eyes wide and burning with furious, helpless rage. She couldn’t speak. She could only shake. I sprinted across the room, grabbing Brooke by the shoulders and throwing her backward. “What the hell are you doing?!” I screamed, scrambling to press the emergency call button for the nurses. Brooke caught her balance and grabbed my wrist, a vicious, triumphant glare replacing her tears. “Am I wrong?!” she hissed. “Kevin was sick of you ages ago! He told me I’m the only one who can actually make him feel like a man!” I ripped my hand free and slapped her across the face. The crack echoed in the quiet room. “Is that how you justify destroying my life?” I spat. “It’s a shame that Kevin was willing to beg on his knees outside my door, yet he never once considered marrying you. What does that tell you?” Her face morphed into an ugly, mottled purple. “You don’t know anything! You think he took you back because he loves you? He only did it because you’re obedient and stupid!” She paused, a sickeningly sweet smile stretching across her lips. “Did you know? In exchange for me sleeping with him, he promised he wouldn’t let you get pregnant. Those special herbal fertility blends he brewed for you every night for three years? They were contraceptives. Toxins.” “Those herbs were meant to make you permanently infertile. And if by some miracle you actually conceived, the baby was supposed to be born deformed!” 4 I stood paralyzed. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Those three years of grueling IVF. Every single night, Kevin would meticulously boil those foul-tasting herbal teas, claiming they were holistic supplements to prepare my body for a baby. I choked down every bitter drop, my heart full of absolute devotion, dreaming of the family we were building. It was all a lie. A calculated, venomous lie. My chest caved in. The pain was so sharp it felt like thousands of surgical blades slicing through my organs. My vision went red. Before I even realized what I was doing, I lunged. I tackled Brooke to the floor, wrapping my hands around her throat and squeezing with every ounce of strength I had left. Pure terror washed over her face. She thrashed, gagging and clawing at my arms. I didn’t let go until someone grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me backward. I hit the floor hard. Kevin was standing over me, pulling Brooke behind him, his face twisted in disgust. “Have you completely lost your mind?! Are you trying to kill her?!” he roared. “I never knew you were this deranged!” When he shoved me, my head clipped the edge of the metal bedside cabinet. Warm blood instantly started dripping down my temple. Kevin flinched, a flash of genuine panic crossing his eyes. He took half a step toward me. But Brooke dropped to her knees, clutching her throat, sobbing hysterically. “Sarah, I know I wronged you! But you can’t just cheat on him to get revenge!” “Kevin has been so good to you! How could you sleep with another man behind his back?!” Kevin froze dead in his tracks. “What did you just say?” Brooke pulled out her phone. On the screen was a gallery of photos. Me, tangled in bed with another man, entirely naked. My lungs seized. I screamed until my throat tore. “She’s lying! Those are deepfakes! It’s photoshopped!” I scrambled up, trying to snatch the phone from her hand. As I did, Nathan’s business card slipped out of my pocket and fluttered to the floor. The man in the fake photos had Nathan’s exact face. The temperature in the room dropped below freezing. The fury in Kevin’s eyes shifted into something psychotic and terrifying. He ground his teeth together, spitting out his words like venom. “You wouldn’t let me touch you… but you’ll spread your legs for some lawyer?” I looked at him. The coldness radiating from my own body was absolute. He didn’t believe me. He didn’t even hesitate. Suddenly, I was just so exhausted. I let out a soft, broken laugh. “So you can screw whoever you want, but I can’t?” Kevin’s jaw tightened. He pulled his phone from his pocket, hit a speed dial, and gave a sharp command. Seconds later, three massive, suited bodyguards stepped into the room. I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall, a deep, primal panic rising in my throat. Kevin wrapped an arm around Brooke’s waist, staring at me like I was a stranger. “If you don’t like me touching you, maybe you’ll like it when they do.” He nodded to the guards. “Teach her a lesson. Just don’t hit the stomach.” The men moved in instantly, grabbing my arms and twisting them behind my back. “Kevin, are you insane?!” I shrieked, kicking and thrashing wildly. On the bed, my mother saw what was happening. Using the absolute last dregs of her strength, she dragged herself over the railing, tumbling onto the floor in a desperate attempt to reach me. Brooke casually stepped forward and shoved her back down with the toe of her shoe. My mother lay there, her body convulsing, cloudy tears spilling from her unblinking eyes. My vision tore at the seams. “Mom!!!” “Stop! Stop it, please! Kevin, please, help her!” Kevin frowned, his eyes darting between me and my mother, a flicker of hesitation finally breaking his cold facade. He opened his mouth to say something, but Brooke tightened her grip on his arm, her face flushed. “Kevin, my stomach is cramping really badly…” He immediately turned his attention back to her, gently resting a hand on her waist. “I’ll take you down to ultrasound in a second.” My mother’s convulsions slowed, and she lay perfectly still on the linoleum. Kevin glanced at her in annoyance. “Stop faking it. You’re awake.” He turned, leading Brooke toward the door. Seeing that Kevin didn’t care, the guards tightened their grips, their faces twisting into crude, menacing smirks. Staring at those disgusting faces, I thrashed like a wild animal, desperate to crawl to my mother. One of the men got annoyed and shoved me hard. I stumbled backward. Kevin had stopped in the doorway, probably waiting for me to beg for mercy. But as I fell back, my oversized hospital gown rode up. His eyes locked onto my stomach. The slight, rounded bump from a few days ago was completely gone. Only a flat, empty abdomen remained. His face drained of every ounce of blood. His eyes went wide and manic, and a raw, terrifying roar ripped from his chest.

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