Category: English

Dubbed the “Queen of Cutesy,” I’m blessed with a bombshell figure but cursed with a syrup-sweet voice that sparks hate with every word. After a year as the internet’s punching bag, I finally broke on a live show when accused of being shameless. Grabbing the A-list actor beside me, I sobbed, “I told you I wasn’t faking it!” The sharp-tongued actor froze, his neck flushing crimson as he awkwardly patted my head. The web fell silent, then erupted: 【Wait, she’s for real?】 【Why is he blushing?!】 【LMAO, the cynic’s spine melted from her voice!】 01 I’ve had this voice since I was a kid. I also hit puberty way too early. Because of it, my father acted like he wanted to strangle me in my sleep, and my mother said I was born to be nothing but trouble for men. Later, a talent scout spotted me, drawn in by my looks, and I was signed to an entertainment agency. When I debuted, my agent, Liz, was practically vibrating with confidence. “With this body? This face? We just need to strike a pose and we’ll be trending in seconds!” she’d declared, slapping her chest for emphasis. She cackled, convinced I was destined to be a superstar. But everyone, including her, had fatally underestimated the destructive power of my voice. A full year later, my reputation was in the gutter. It got to the point where I couldn’t even open my mouth without people rolling their eyes. 【Skylar Song is the fakest of the fake! If she’d just own the femme fatale look, I’d at least give her a second glance. Why is she so obsessed with this sweet-girl persona?】 【NGL, I thought it was cute at first, but it gets really annoying when it’s non-stop.】 【Can she just shut up? If she wants to seduce men so bad, she can go work at a club. Stop polluting the internet!】 The comments were relentless, one nastier than the next. But I was a coward. All I could do was bite down on my blanket at night, forcing the tears back down. Liz tried to console me. “Hey, bad press is still press! Listen to me, kid. That contrast you’ve got? The body and the voice? If you just lean into it, you’re gonna be rich. You hear me? Rich!” A sob escaped me. “You mean the kind of rich where I get revenge-rich?” Liz was a fiery New Yorker with a notoriously short fuse. After a year of managing me, she claimed she’d developed enough patience to get a kindergarten teaching license. My voice, as she put it, made women scream and men… well, it did things to men. The problem was, the contrast was so stark that nobody believed it was real. The damn internet trolls even had the audacity to say she had bad taste, forcing a perfectly good femme fatale into a cutesy mold. Who was going to stand up for her?! Liz seethed. “I pulled every string I had, called in every favor to get you a spot on this huge reality show. This time, I swear, I’m taking back what’s mine!” She was convinced that once people saw me up close, I’d win them all over, men and women alike. She let out a low, scheming chuckle, lost in her own fantasy world. 02 But before the show even started, I was trending for all the wrong reasons. #A-List Actor Liam Vance Slams Skylar Song’s Voice As Disgusting# #SkylarSongTheFaker# The topic was pinned to a video of Liam streaming his video game, a clip that had been reposted over a million times in half an hour. In the video, his teammate was dragging the whole team down. After feeding the enemy team several kills, the guy apologized in a strained, nasally voice. Liam just laughed, a cold, sharp sound, before tearing into him. “Whoa, what’d you do, swallow a handful of syrup? That’s some serious baby-voice you’re forcing.” “If you don’t know how to talk, then shut up. Don’t sit there whining. Your mouth is like a busted faucet, just spraying nonsense everywhere.” Liam Vance was a brilliant actor, the youngest to ever win the prestigious Phoenix Award, but his reputation was… complicated. His tongue was sharper than a razor blade, a master of backhanded compliments and outright insults that made his fans both love and hate him. Normally, this would have nothing to do with me. But then Tricia Stone, a popular starlet, dropped a comment under the video. 【His voice is so sweet! Just like Skylar from our cast.】 Her vague, innocent-sounding words twisted and turned as they spread, and suddenly, the internet’s full firepower was aimed directly at my social media accounts. 【I knew that fake-sweet voice sounded familiar. It’s the industry’s queen of cutesy, Skylar Song!】 【Who else could it be? She’s the only one that obnoxious. And she had the nerve to do it in front of Liam? Everyone knows he’s the most savage critic in the business.】 【Idk, it doesn’t really sound like her. Skylar’s voice is a little over the top, but it’s not that grating. Stop jumping on the bandwagon!】 【^^ Skylar’s PR team working overtime? If it’s not her, who is it? Tricia? No way. Tricia is famously as sweet as she sounds. You can’t even compare the two!】 The internet was a cesspool of hate. Trolls dug up every clip of me speaking, reposting them like exhibits in a criminal trial. I was just sitting at home, and suddenly I was public enemy number one. Liz was about to have an aneurysm. “That goddamn Tricia is the real faker! Don’t think I can’t tell just because she has an innocent little face!” she raged. “I bet that was her in the game, and she threw you under the bus because she was scared of getting caught!” Even though I’d been bullied for my voice my whole life, this was the first time I’d ever been dragged so publicly, trending for all the wrong reasons. I felt like I was dying. I just lay on my bed, a human-shaped lump of misery. Then, my phone buzzed. “Sky, get online! Your big bro is gonna carry you to victory, and we’re gonna metaphorically slap Liam Vance across the face!” 03 Ethan is one of the biggest names in the voice-acting world. We met back in college when we were both doing part-time voice-over work. He was furious on my behalf. “Damn it, Sky, your voice is amazing. Is Liam deaf or just an ass? What gives him the right to talk like that!” Tears of gratitude streamed down my face. I swore in that moment that I would be his loyal sidekick for life. Before I could even process it, Ethan had dragged me into a game and matched us with Liam. My fingers fumbled over the controls. I was, to put it mildly, terrible at the game. A flurry of frantic, useless movements resulted in a spectacular kill-death ratio of zero to five. Liam’s voice, tight with frustration, crackled through my headset. “Just uninstall the game. Go play Candy Crush or something. You’re so bad you’re single-handedly carrying the other team.” The live-stream chat exploded with laughter. 【Did Liam step in something nasty before he logged on tonight? His teammate luck is trash.】 【I bet it’s another girl. Is she about to start apologizing in a baby-voice too? LOL】 Ethan was losing his mind on the phone. “Say something back! What did I bring you here for? If you don’t fight back, you let them trash you for nothing tonight!” His words lit a fire under me. I fumbled to turn on my mic. But I’d only ever been on the receiving end of insults. After a few stutters, all I could manage was a weak, “So what?” Ethan almost coughed up a lung. “Okay, listen! Repeat after me, word for word!” I nodded like a bobblehead, stumbling through the lines he fed me. “Did I eat your rice? Why are you so obsessed with me?” “If you can’t stand me, feel free to die before I do!” “Was I talking to you? No? Then shut your mouth!” I was just getting into the rhythm of it when Ethan suddenly went silent. I froze. What was next? After a moment of stunned silence, it was Liam’s voice that came through, stammering. “I’m… sorry.” On the screen, the tips of his ears looked a little red. “Another round? Want to duo?” Aaaaaah! My toes curled in on themselves from secondhand embarrassment. My hand twitched, and I slammed the ‘exit game’ button. 04 I may have fled the scene, but I left a firestorm in my wake. 【OMG, so sweet! Who could resist a voice like that?!】 【Wait, she just insulted him and ran? Who taught her that move? Didn’t she see our boy Liam was totally stunned?!】 【I’m dying, what a complete 180! He was not acting like this thirty minutes ago. But to be fair, that girl’s voice is ridiculously cute.】 Even crazier, Liam posted an apology on his official account for his behavior. 【I was too harsh tonight. Don’t take it to heart…】 He had no idea it was me, so I dropped a casual reply. 【It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s only on the level of being randomly blamed for something I didn’t do.】 I’d already gotten my revenge, so what did it matter? Maybe because I was still a nobody, I had no idea what kind of influence an A-list actor really had. My one careless reply nearly got my entire family tree cursed by his fans. My notifications and DMs exploded. 【You? Skylar Song, you have the nerve to piggyback on his fame?】 【Do you have any idea how much everyone hates your voice? The audacity to say that wasn’t you.】 【It’s pretty easy to tell the difference between a naturally sweet voice and a fake one, okay?】 The hateful comments kept pouring in. But among them, I noticed a brand-new account, a level-zero user, fighting back on my behalf. 【Her voice is sweet! What’s it to you?】 【So what if it was her? I like it!】 【You call her a faker? What does that make you? A-grade loser?】 【Damn it, if my main account wasn’t banned, I’d roast you so hard your ancestors would feel it!】 This anonymous hero was attacking every negative comment with a vicious, take-no-prisoners style that was… strangely familiar. It almost sounded like… Liam? I shook the thought out of my head. My heart swelled with gratitude. Like a thief in the night, I snuck through the comment section, leaving a few ‘likes’ on his replies. A true bro, I thought. A friend in need. 05 The drama simmered online all night, cementing my reputation not only as the industry’s Queen of Cutesy, but also as a shameless clout-chaser. So, the next day at the studio, Tricia Stone looked at me with an extra dose of arrogance. She sashayed past me, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Skylar, you didn’t sleep well last night, did you?” I was confused. “I slept great.” Her expression soured instantly. She shot me a venomous glare and stormed off. For the rest of the morning, Tricia seemed determined to trip me up at every turn. Maybe because I was used to being my parents’ punching bag my whole life, I was completely unfazed. But my indifference only made her more furious. I stood “innocently” outside her dressing room, listening to the chaos erupting within. It was Tricia and her agent, Wes. “I told you to make your voice sweeter, cuter! Were you even listening to me? Look at the mess you made last night!” Wes yelled. Tricia sounded like she was at her breaking point. “How the hell was I supposed to know I’d get matched with that monster Liam in a random game! And besides, I fixed it, didn’t I? The internet totally believes it was Skylar Song. There’s no way they’ll figure out it was me!” “It only worked because Skylar’s reputation is already trash! Otherwise, who would believe that god-awful screeching was her?” Wes was practically tearing his hair out. “I told you to learn from Skylar! Look at her! Her voice is so sweet, so natural. Why can she do it and you can’t?! Half of your fame is built on this sweet-girl persona! Do you even understand what that means?!” He groaned, a truly pathetic sound of masculine despair. “Aaargh! Why can’t there be a person with Tricia Stone’s face and Skylar Song’s voice! Do you know how stressful it is for me, living in constant fear that you’ll be exposed?!” Tricia’s face turned black. The sweet act was gone. “Screw you, Wes! So what if I can’t beat Skylar? You’re such a clueless idiot!” BAM! The dressing room door flew open, and I was face-to-face with a fuming Tricia. A wicked impulse took over me. I let out a long, melodic whistle. I watched as her face flushed a deep crimson, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “You… you…! How much did you hear?” I kept my voice soft and gentle, speaking slowly and deliberately. “You. Are. Faking. It.” 06 It was like I’d flicked the switch on a boiling kettle. Tricia started hopping on the spot, almost screaming. “So what? So what? So what! Did I eat your rice?! Just you wait! Next month, I’ll show you! I’ll make the whole world see who the true Greek Goddess of the Baby Voice is!” I raised my hand meekly. “Actually, the internet is calling mine a ‘hiccup-voice’ now.” Tricia froze. “Where did you train? Ugh, no, I mean, how the hell did you change it up again?!” I deadpanned, making it up on the spot. “The Siren’s Song Academy. Mastered about forty percent of the technique. It’s all in the soft palate.” She glared, spitting out a final threat. “You just wait! I’m signing up!” … Hahahahahaha! Oh my god, I was holding in my laughter so hard I could barely breathe. I was wondering just how she planned to “show me,” when the answer arrived. The official cast list for the reality show Liz got me was announced. And Tricia was on it. It was, without a doubt, a legendary lineup. Male guests: The award-winning actor Liam Vance, renowned voice actor Ethan Cole, and pop king Julian Croft. Female guests: It-girl Tricia Stone, veteran actress Carla Vance. And then there was me, Skylar Song, the industry’s resident faker. I stuck out like a sore thumb. The internet, of course, noticed immediately. 【Is this a joke? How did Skylar Song sneak in here?】 【Slept her way in, probably.】 【How does she still have the nerve to show up? Liam already called her out for faking her voice. Does she have no shame?】 【Don’t worry, our boy Liam will handle it. He probably won’t be able to stand it the second she opens her mouth.】 They were right about one thing. But what the internet didn’t know yet was that Liam, indeed, couldn’t stand it. Just not in the way they thought. 07 On the way to meet the show’s production team, I ran into Ethan. “I thought you hated this kind of stuff,” I asked, curious. Ethan was a giant in the voice-acting world, but after three years in the industry, he rarely did interviews. Most people didn’t even know that behind the god-tier voice was a total goofball. He slung an arm around my shoulder. “Couldn’t let you face Liam alone, could I? How about it, impressed? Don’t worship me, kid. I’m just a legend.” He gave me a smarmy wink and, in his best “brooding CEO” voice, asked what I thought. Before I could answer, a scornful chuckle echoed from behind us. “Greasy.” Liam strode past us, moving so quickly he seemed to purposely bump Ethan’s shoulder. I shrank back, exchanging a look with Ethan. “Did I do something to him again? I didn’t even say anything.” “Nah, he’s probably just salty.” Ethan and I huddled together, whispering. From behind us, Liam’s assistant was shouting. “Liam, my man, would you look back for one second! You forgot your assistant!” He sprinted toward us, the ten pounds of extra weight on his belly jiggling violently. He was panting like an old steam engine. “Hah… huff… wheeze! Damn it, who knows what crawled up his butt today. Seriously, who is the one working this stupid job anyway!” 08 The show was being broadcast live, so Liz had given me a strict lecture about my behavior. “Listen to me, kid. Be sweet. Call everyone ‘bro’ and ‘sis,’ you got it? You’re not gonna let me down, right?!” I nodded with a grim certainty. “…Of course not, Liz. You can count on me to make things worse.” Pain. First, I had the entire internet convinced my voice was a crime against humanity. Then, I had Tricia threatening to expose me in front of millions. And caught in the middle was Liam, the A-list actor who had publicly called “me” a faker. This was a terrible start. I was so doomed I didn’t even have the energy to protest. Everyone expected me to fail, and I had no intention of proving them wrong. Everyone thought I was a joke, and honestly, I was. And to top it all off… The game hadn’t even begun, and I was already about to die. My eyes widened in horror as I pointed at myself. “Why me?!” A smiling crew member clipped a microphone and a tiny camera to my collar. She patted my head, surprised to find that I felt like a soft, fluffy piece of cake. A wave of maternal affection washed over her. “There, there, sweetie. You were the first one awake, so the director wants you to go wake up Liam.” The truth was, the director had smelled the sweet scent of viral drama from our recent trending topic. The viewers who had tuned in early were treated to this juicy scenario right off the bat. The live chat exploded. 【Grab your popcorn, people, this is gonna be good! Don’t go back to sleep!】 【LMAO, the producers are evil! Everyone knows Liam has a temper when he wakes up. Poor Skylar is about to get yelled at until she cries.】 【Hey, she has a name. Stop calling her that. Honestly, I think her voice is perfectly sweet.】 【You guys, seeing her up close… Skylar is even prettier. And that figure, I’m so jealous I could cry. If it weren’t for all the bad press, I think I’d be a fan!】 Even I, who tried to avoid social media, had seen the viral clips of Liam’s legendary morning crankiness. Oh god. Just kill me now.

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The day my wife gave birth was the day I learned the child wasn’t mine. I overheard her and her mother talking in the hospital room. Her mother hissed, “I told you to get rid of it. What will you do when Steven finds out?” My wife replied weakly, “What his father did doesn’t matter. I married into the Smiths. Let me keep this one piece of Evan. Once the baby is born, I’ll give Steven a true heir. He’ll forgive me.” Each word felt like ice. I stood frozen outside, then walked away silently. I waited until she delivered healthy twins. As congratulations filled the room, my grandfather’s assistant, Mr. Carter, arrived sternly. “The Smith family has a tradition,” he announced. “All newborns must take a paternity test immediately.” Amanda’s face went pale. 1 “That… is that really necessary? They’re so tiny, just born. A test would be so hard on them! Steven… tell them, wouldn’t it?” I stood at the back of the crowd, watching as she turned those familiar, heart-melting eyes on me. In the past, a single look like that could make me surrender any principle, cross any line. But the words I’d overheard—those gut-wrenching, treacherous words—were still ringing in my ears, making her current performance a bitter farce. “It’s tradition. No one is exempt,” I said, my voice perfectly calm, devoid of any ripple of emotion. My gaze swept coolly over the stunned faces in the room. “Mr. Carter, please arrange for the samples to be taken now. Deliver the results directly to this room as soon as they’re ready.” A dead silence fell over the room. Relatives exchanged uneasy glances, the air crackling with a tension so thick you could taste it. Everyone sensed something was terribly wrong, but no one dared to speak. Amanda’s fingers dug into the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with disbelief as she challenged me. “Steven Smith, what is the meaning of this? Do you really trust me so little?!” Her eyes, rimmed with red, locked onto mine, a perfect portrait of a wounded heart. Even now, at the bitter end, she was still trying to play me. A ghost of a cold smile touched my lips. “I’m simply following the rules. Unless… unless you have a reason to be afraid, Amanda? Do you already know, deep down, that these children aren’t mine?” Before she could answer, her mother rushed forward, trying to smooth things over. “Steven, of course, the children are yours! But if it’s a Smith family rule, then let’s do it. It will put everyone’s mind at ease.” She shot Amanda a warning look, then carefully lifted the baby boy and handed him to a nurse. The wait for the results felt like an eternity. Time stretched and warped, each second a slow-motion torment. Amanda sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes red-rimmed and restless. She stared at me, the tension building until she finally snapped. “I went through hell to give you these children, Steven, and this is how you treat me? Don’t you have a conscience?!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “There’s another Smith family rule, isn’t there? The one that says if the father waives the test, no one can force it! Have you even thought about how this will make the children look? What will people say when they find out their own father suspected them from birth?! What are you turning them into?!” She was a master of turning the tables, of painting herself as the victim. Willing to deceive me, to pass off another man’s children as my own, all for him. Did she really think I was that much of a fool? The last embers of warmth in my heart turned to ash. “If they were my children,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “why would you be so hysterical?” “You dare talk to me about a conscience? Amanda, can you put your hand on your own heart and tell me you haven’t been living a lie?” “Don’t you forget,” I added, each word a deliberate blow, “when your reputation was in tatters and your family was on the brink of ruin, you were on your knees, begging me to marry you.” Amanda fell silent. The tears vanished as if they had never been there. Yes. It all came back to him. Her lover. Evan. She was still in college when she got tangled up with him—the “son of a murderer,” as the tabloids called him. She’d stood in his filthy, cramped apartment, holding his hand in front of the flashing cameras, and declared to the world: “Even if he’s a killer’s son, I love him.” The scandal rocked the city, from the tabloids to the highest circles of society. The Vance family heiress, hopelessly devoted to a convict’s son. Was it bravery or sheer stupidity? The fallout was immediate and catastrophic. Vance Industries’ stock plummeted. A nationwide boycott erupted against their products, the public furious that they’d raised a “murderer’s girlfriend.” In a week, the company was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. That was when she came to me. Her fiancé since childhood. I could have thrown the headlines in her face. Everyone in our circle knew that getting involved with her was social suicide, a public disgrace. But when I looked into her tear-filled eyes… I folded. Looking back now, it feels like I willingly drank the poison she offered. Just then, the door opened. Mr. Carter walked in, holding the freshly printed, expedited report. His eyes met mine for a split second before he handed me the folder. My face was a mask of indifference as I flipped it open, my eyes jumping straight to the conclusion. Analysis Conclusion: The paternal relationship between Steven Smith and the child is supported. Probability of Paternity: 99.9999%. 2 A poorly concealed smirk of triumph bloomed on my mother-in-law’s face. She bustled over to my side, her voice loud enough for the whole room to hear. “See? I told you! Our Amanda would never do such a thing! Now you can finally rest easy, Steven.” I understood immediately. My lips twisted into a silent, cold smile. They had come prepared. They were determined to play this game to the very end. Fine. If they wanted a performance, I would give them one. I let out a theatrical sigh of relief, forcing a warm smile as I looked at Amanda. “It seems I was overthinking things. I’m sorry to have put you through that. To make it up to you, I’ll book the best postpartum wellness retreat in the city. And for the twins’ one-month welcoming gala, I’ll have the papers drawn up to transfer 20% of Smith Corporation’s shares to them. A gift from their great-grandfather.” Amanda and her mother exchanged a flash of avarice. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. Amanda quickly composed herself, her voice soft and sweet again. “Steven… don’t you think you owe me a little something too? I’m craving that soup you make.” I paused, then nodded curtly before turning to leave without another word. It didn’t even take half an hour. Mr. Carter’s call came through, his voice a low, urgent murmur. “Mr. Smith, you’d just left when that man, Evan, slipped into the hospital room. They’ve… they’ve named the children. The girl is Anya, and the boy is Emrys.” “Mrs. Vance has also formally adopted Evan. He’s moving into the Vance estate. She said it would be… more convenient for him to see Amanda in the future.” Anya and Emrys. Graceful Gaze and Forever Looking Back. Even their names were a monument to their sordid love affair. And they planned to install him in her family home? To carry on right under my nose? Did they think I was a corpse? The Vance family… what audacious nerve. A cold, diamond-hard resolve settled over me, replacing the last vestiges of pain. I slowly twisted the wedding band on my finger, my voice devoid of all warmth. “Document everything. Get another, independent paternity test done. Then, call finance and terminate every single project we have with Vance Industries.” “I want the Vance family wiped off the map within a month.” I would make an example of them. I would show the world the price of betraying me. That evening, Amanda called, her voice syrupy with feigned happiness. “Steven, I’ve chosen names for the babies! Anya Smith and Emrys Smith.” “I was inspired by poetry. ‘Anya,’ for a graceful gaze, and ‘Emrys,’ for forever looking back at what’s beloved. Isn’t it beautiful?” She chattered on excitedly. “For the welcoming gala, let’s invite the press! A live broadcast! Let everyone see the new Smith heirs!” I let out a dry, mirthless laugh, tapping my fingers on my desk. I changed the subject abruptly. “I hear Evan paid you a visit. Amanda, do you remember the vows you took when you married me?” “This may have started as a business arrangement, but you know the Smith family code. The men in my family do not cheat. And any woman who marries into this family and proves unfaithful… is punished without mercy.” On the other end of the line, her cheerful facade shattered. “He just came to see me… My mother adopted him. There’s nothing between us anymore, I swear.” “Steven, I gave you children. Why are you still doubting me? You’re the only one in my heart.” “If it makes you unhappy, I’ll never see him again. Is that what you want?” Her frantic, clumsy lies were almost laughable. “Good,” I said flatly. “I hope you remember that. Because if I find out you’ve seen him again… you won’t like the consequences.” The very next day, Amanda checked out of the hospital and into the luxury postpartum retreat. As soon as she was settled, she turned to me, the picture of a concerned wife. “Steven, you look exhausted. You’ve been through so much. Go back to the office. They have nurses and staff here. I’ll be perfectly fine.” Her tone was gentle, dripping with fake sympathy. And she was right; I was emotionally and physically drained. But I didn’t leave. Instead, I went to the adjoining suite, wanting to see what game she would play next. I didn’t have to wait long. I heard the soft thud of someone landing on the balcony next door, having climbed in through the window. “Evan, you’re here! Quick, come see our children.” “Slow down! Your stitches haven’t fully healed. You’re a mother now, you can’t be so reckless!” She couldn’t even wait. She was meeting her lover at a wellness retreat, the day after promising me she’d never see him again. I heard Amanda’s voice, laced with irritation. “If it weren’t for Steven, you could be their father openly. Instead, you have to sneak in here like a thief.” “Amanda, it’s my fault. I don’t have the right background… What if Mr. Smith finds out…” “What is there to be afraid of? We fooled him with the paternity test. He runs this massive corporation, but he’s so easy to fool.” There was a pause, and I pictured Evan picking up one of the babies. His voice was hesitant. “But if you… if you really do have a child with him later, will you still love Anya and Emrys?” Amanda laughed, a sound that was light but suddenly turned venomous. “You believed that story I told my mother? Evan, you are the only one I have ever loved. I will never give Steven Smith a child. My plan is to wait until our children are old enough, and then they will inherit the Smith fortune as is their right!” She paused, and her next words were pure poison. “After the gala, I’ll start slowly drugging his food. Make him sterile. By the time he figures it out, it will be too late.” “The Smith corporation, the children, and me… it will all be yours, Evan. We’ll crush every single person who ever looked down on us.” Boom. Her words exploded in my mind like a thunderclap. My blood ran cold, my very breath freezing in my lungs. It wasn’t just deceit. It wasn’t just betrayal. From the very beginning, her plan was to consume me whole. To leave me barren, to turn me into a stepping stone, a laughingstock for the entire world. From the next room, I could still hear their soft, conspiratorial laughter. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. The urge to kick down the door and tear them apart was primal. But not yet. The time wasn’t right. I took a deep, shuddering breath. Amanda, I gave you a chance. You’re the one who chose this path to ruin. The last shred of warmth in my soul evaporated. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Carter. “I want a complete investigation into Evan and the Vance family. Every financial transaction, every dirty secret you can dig up.” “She wants a live-broadcasted welcoming gala? Fine. We’ll give her one. A party she will remember for the rest of her miserable life.” 3 A month passed, and the day of the grand welcoming gala for the Smith heirs arrived. The ballroom glittered with the city’s elite, a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns. The air buzzed with camera flashes and whispered gossip. For the past month, I had been a ghost, using an “overseas business trip” as an excuse to stay away. Amanda, I heard, was thrilled to have the space. The moment she left the retreat, she’d taken the children to a villa she’d bought for Evan, playing house like a happy little family of four for two days. Inside the ballroom, the main topic of conversation was, of course, the promised 20% of Smith Corporation shares. “I heard Mr. Smith is signing the papers tonight, on stage! These kids were born with platinum spoons in their mouths.” “The Smiths are certainly generous with their heirs…” Amanda, dressed in a breathtaking couture gown, looked radiant. Motherhood had given her a new, softer beauty. The moment she saw me, she rushed over, reaching to take my arm with practiced intimacy, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Steven, you’re finally here! Come look at the babies, aren’t they even more adorable than a month ago? Everyone is calling them little angels… By the way, where is Grandpa? Hasn’t he arrived yet?” I sidestepped her touch, my face an impassive mask. I didn’t even glance at the twins. “It’s a small affair,” I said, my voice flat. “Not worth troubling him.” Her perfect smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “How could this be a small affair? It’s his great-grandchildren’s gala… Is he not feeling well?” Before I could answer, her mother swept in, laden with extravagant gifts. And trailing right behind her was Evan. Amanda immediately fell silent, retracting her hand. Evan, on the other hand, instinctively reached for one of the babies, a paternal gesture he couldn’t suppress. The baby even started to reach back. But his eyes met mine, and he recoiled as if burned, his face a canvas of guilt. I watched the awkward, tense dance between the three of them, a cold sneer forming deep in my soul. My nails were digging into my palms again. It wasn’t until Mr. Carter discreetly murmured that it was time that I took a deep breath, reined in the storm of rage inside me, and for the first time, took the two infants into my own arms. I walked toward the grand stage at the center of the ballroom. The babies felt so small and fragile in my arms. Their features, so much like Amanda’s, stirred a profound ache in my chest. If only… if only they were mine. I would have been a good father. I would have given them the world. But they weren’t. They were living, breathing monuments to my humiliation. The emcee’s booming voice filled the hall. “Distinguished guests, thank you all for joining us to celebrate the birth of Anya and Emrys Smith! As per the wishes of the patriarch, Mr. Smith Sr., the Smith Corporation will be gifting 10% of its shares to each of these beautiful children! Tonight, you will all bear witness to this historic moment!” From the stage, I saw Amanda sidle up to Evan in the crowd. They exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. “And now, for the official signing of the share transfer! If we could please have the official seal brought to the stage—” A waiter in white gloves approached, carrying a velvet pillow with the corporate seal. Every eye in the room was fixed on it. And then, I spoke. “Wait.” My single word, amplified by the microphone, silenced the entire hall. In the next instant, the lights of the grand ballroom suddenly died, plunging us into absolute darkness.

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After my family went bankrupt, I was pawned off to Tim Bernstein as his fiancée. When he saw me sitting at his doorstep, holding a dog on a leash, his face was as black as thunder. “Little thing, are you even weaned yet?” Just as I was about to let my dog bite him, a stream of text suddenly floated before my eyes. 【LMAO! I’m dying! Who the hell has a three-year-old fiancée?】 【Congrats to the villain on his brand new daughter! Instant fatherhood, no labor required!】 【The villain doesn’t know yet, but this little thing is a lucky charm. Whoever raises her strikes it rich! It’s a shame she snuck out to find her parents one day and got hit by a car.】 Hit by a car? A shiver ran down my spine. I hugged Tim Bernstein’s leg tightly. “Hubby, I’m hungry!” 1 I was dozing off, leaning against Baron, my billion-dollar husky, when the grand front door finally swung open. A handsome, refined man stepped out. When he saw me and my dog camped out on his porch, his expression darkened. “Where did this brat come from?” he asked, his brow furrowed. I quickly fished a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. It bore my father’s sloppy signature and a bright red thumbprint. “I’m here to pay off a debt,” I announced, puffing out my chest to seem more grown-up. Tim Bernstein took the paper and glanced at it, his face growing even stormier. “David Miller owes me twenty million, and he’s using you as collateral?” He looked me up and down. “Little thing, are you even weaned yet?” I was about to unleash Baron on him when several lines of semi-transparent text floated in front of my face: 【LMAO! I’m dying! Who the hell has a three-year-old fiancée?】 【Congrats to the villain on his brand new daughter! Instant fatherhood, no labor required!】 【The villain doesn’t know yet, but this little thing is a lucky charm. Whoever raises her strikes it rich! It’s a shame she snuck out to find her parents one day and got hit by a car.】 I blinked. The words were still there. Hit by a car? My whole body trembled, and the leash slipped from my hand. Baron, thinking this was his cue, shook out his fluffy coat and charged ferociously toward Tim Bernstein. Then, he screeched to a halt, flopped onto his back right in front of Tim’s gleaming leather shoes, and exposed his soft belly, his tail wagging like a helicopter propeller. “Traitor!” I stomped my foot in frustration. This was the third time Baron had abandoned me for a handsome face. The last time was for the long-legged clerk at the pet store. Tim’s mouth twitched. He looked down at me. “What’s your name?” “Daisy Miller,” I answered quietly, my eyes still fixed on the strange, floating text. Another line appeared: 【Out with the old dad, in with the new. Little Daisy doesn’t know that even though this guy is the villain, he only has it out for the male lead!】 【Who needs those heartless parents anyway? This villain could buy you an entire amusement park with a snap of his fingers!】 My eyes lit up. Without a second thought, I lunged forward and hugged Tim Bernstein’s leg. “Hubby, I’m hungry!” Tim froze, looking as if he’d been struck by lightning. The pop-up comments exploded: 【LMAO, HUBBY, I’M DEAD!】 【She’s only three and already knows how to secure the bag. This kid’s going places!】 【Tim Bernstein: I’ve been single for 28 years and suddenly I have a child?!】 “Who taught you to call me that?” Tim’s voice was tight, as if forced through gritted teeth. I looked up at him, batting my eyelashes. “That’s what they do on TV. The fiancée calls him hubby.” It was a line from a soap opera I’d watched a few days ago. Whenever the actress called the male lead “hubby,” he’d agree to anything she wanted. Tim took a deep breath and turned to his butler, who was standing by, his face red from holding back laughter. “Arthur, get David Miller on the phone and tell him to come get his kid!” But the call went straight to voicemail. The agreement had been signed with Tim’s grandmother, Mrs. Bernstein. Everyone in the city knew Tim Bernstein had no interest in women; some even whispered he preferred men. Mrs. Bernstein knew my father had a daughter, but she had no idea that daughter was only three years old. So she proposed I become her grandson’s fiancée to settle the debt. By now, my parents were probably on a plane out of the country. “Arthur, contact social services at once—” The comments started buzzing again. They said if I was sent to an orphanage, the director would abuse me, and I would run away in three months to find my parents, only to get hit by that car. Reading that, I clung to Tim’s leg even tighter. “Don’t send me away! I’ll be really good! Hubby~” 2 Baron let out a pathetic howl, flopped to the ground, and started whimpering like a tiny steam engine. Between the two of us, we managed a two-part harmony of pure misery. “Waaah… Daddy doesn’t want me… and now you don’t want me either… Baron and I will have to beg on the streets… It’s so cold in the winter, we’ll freeze to death…” I wailed, peeking through my fingers to gauge Tim’s reaction. A vein throbbed in his temple. “Stop crying.” I cried even louder. “I said, stop crying!” he raised his voice. The shout startled me into a hiccup, a fat tear clinging precariously to my cheek. Baron scrambled to his feet and stood in front of me, staring warily at Tim. The standoff was tense. Arthur, the butler, chose the perfect moment to interject. “Sir, perhaps we should let Miss Daisy stay for now? The collateral agreement was signed by Mrs. Bernstein, and she’s currently in Switzerland for treatment. We can’t reach her. We can decide what to do once we’ve contacted her. A child this young, at an orphanage… it would be…” Tim rubbed his brow. “Where would she sleep?” “The guest room is ready, sir,” Arthur said quickly. “It’s right next to your bedroom.” I immediately stopped crying and raised my hand obediently. “I can take my own bath, get dressed by myself, and I can even recite poetry! A-tisket, a-tasket, a pocket full of posies…” Tim’s mouth twitched again. He raised a hand to cut me off. “Who taught you that?” Was he stunned by my intellect? I lifted my chin proudly. “I’m self-taught! My daddy said I’m a genius!” “Heh…” Tim chuckled dryly, then turned to Arthur. “One night. First thing tomorrow, contact social services.” With that, he walked out. Arthur prepared a feast for me. I sat at one end of a dining table long enough to be a slide, my short legs dangling far from the floor, waiting for Tim to come home. “Arthur, when is hubby coming back?” Arthur struggled to suppress a smile. “Miss Daisy, Sir is much, much older than you. He’s almost old enough to be your father. You can’t call him hubby.” Not hubby? Then what? I wracked my tiny brain but couldn’t come up with any other titles. The pop-up comments appeared again. 【High-alert! Tim is about to find the female lead on the side of the road!】 【Skyler got dumped in the rain by Ethan. Tim, being a good guy, is about to pick her up.】 【Oh no, Ethan is going to show up tomorrow and cause a scene!】 Skyler? Who was Skyler? And who was Ethan? Did Tim find a dog, too? I found Baron on the side of the road. My mom left him to keep me company before she passed away. But as soon as she was gone, the new woman my dad married just wanted to cook Baron in a hot pot. I wondered if the dog Tim found was prettier than Baron. I sat by the door, waiting eagerly. When I finally heard a sound at the entrance, I shot off like a little cannonball. Tim walked in, soaked to the bone. Behind him was an equally drenched, very pretty lady. Her eyes were red like a little rabbit’s, and she was clutching a soggy handbag. It wasn’t a dog. I was a little disappointed. The comments were scrolling like crazy: 【The female lead, Skyler, has entered the chat!】 【Tim’s good intentions are going to backfire. The male lead is going to hate him for this.】 【That punch Ethan throws tomorrow looks like it really hurts.】 “Sir, this is…” Arthur hurried over with a dry towel. “I found her on the road,” Tim said with a frown, clearly not used to explaining himself. “Miss… Skyler, the guest room is on the second floor. Arthur will get you some clean clothes.” Skyler nodded timidly. “Thank you, Mr. Bernstein. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” I stared at this new lady, then suddenly charged forward and hugged Tim’s leg. “Hubby! Who is this aunty?” 3 The living room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Skyler’s eyes widened. “H-Hubby?” Tim’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple. “Daisy Miller!” The comments went wild: 【LMAO, what a power move!】 【Skyler: Am I supposed to be joining this family?】 【Live footage of Tim Bernstein’s social death!】 I blinked innocently. “The TV said you’re supposed to ask that when you see your hubby bring another woman home.” Tim grabbed me by the back of my collar and lifted me up like a kitten. “First, you are not to call me that. Second, you are not to watch trashy television. And third…” He glanced at the shell-shocked Skyler. “Miss Skyler is just having some trouble and is staying for one night.” I tilted my head and looked at Skyler. “Miss, were you pawned off by your daddy, too?” Skyler let out a small laugh, then crouched down to my level. “No, sweetie. I… I got lost. Mr. Bernstein was kind enough to help me.” Tim massaged his forehead. “Arthur, take Daisy to bed.” The next morning, I was woken by a loud banging on the front door. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. Baron’s ears perked up, on high alert. “Tim Bernstein! Get your ass out here!” A furious male voice vibrated through the windows. The comments appeared right on cue: 【Ethan’s here to catch the cheaters!】 【Classic misunderstanding scene!】 【Quick, Tim, release Daisy to save the day!】 I ran downstairs barefoot just in time to see a tall man grab Tim by the collar. The man was handsome, but his face was twisted in a snarl, like he wanted to eat someone. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?” Tim said coldly. Despite being held, his presence was just as intimidating. “Why did Skyler spend the night here? What did you do?” Ethan roared. Skyler rushed over to pull him away. “Ethan, you’ve misunderstood! I was just…” “Shut up!” Ethan shoved her aside. “Even a dog can see what your intentions are toward her!” Hearing his name, Baron let out a confused little “woof.” I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran over and bit Ethan’s leg. “Agh! Where did this little monster come from?” Ethan yelped, letting go of Tim. I stood in front of Tim, hands on my hips. “Bad man! Don’t you bully my daddy!” The entire room went silent. Tim: “…” Skyler: “???” Ethan: “…Daddy?” The pop-up comments went berserk: 【Daisy with the god-tier save!】 【From hubby to daddy in one second. Tim’s reputation is in shambles.】 【Ethan’s CPU just fried!】 I pressed my advantage, tears welling up on command. “Waaah… if my daddy dies, no one will buy me toys anymore…” Skyler’s expression softened instantly. “Ethan, you’re mistaken. Mr. Bernstein was just being kind. He has a daughter this young…” Ethan awkwardly lowered his fists. “I… I didn’t know you had a child…” After he left with Skyler, the villa was quiet again. I stood barefoot in the middle of the living room. Baron nudged my leg, his wet nose pressing into my palm. Tim loosened his crooked tie and looked down at me. “Now, about the ‘daddy’ issue.” I bit my finger, my eyes darting around. “Because…” I drew out the word, a flash of inspiration hitting me. “Arthur said you’re too old to be my hubby!” Arthur, who was pouring tea, fumbled, spilling it all over the table. The comments exploded again. 4 【’TOO OLD’ LMAO!】 【Arthur: When did I ever say that???】 【Daisy kinda has a point. He’s 25 years older than her. That’s pretty old.】 【Arthur looks like he’s about to cry, hahaha!】 Tim slowly turned his head, his gaze as sharp as a razor, and fixed it on Arthur. “Oh? Is that what Arthur said?” Arthur frantically wiped the table. “Sir, I swear! I would never say such a thing! Miss Daisy, she… she…” Sensing trouble, I quickly added, “Arthur didn’t say the ‘old’ part! He said you weren’t young anymore!” I counted on my fingers. “You’re 28, and I’m 3. 28 minus 3 is… um… it’s…” I ran out of fingers and gave up. “Anyway, it’s just… a lot!” A vein throbbed in Tim’s temple. “So, in your eyes, 28 is old?” I nodded earnestly. “Super old! My next-door neighbor, Mr. Henderson, his new wife secretly told someone he’s thirty years older than her, old and ugly, snores, but at least he’s rich! Everyone says he’s robbing the cradle!” The comments were hysterical: 【Daisy overheard the trophy wife complaining and learned a new idiom!】 【Tim: Suddenly classified as a senior citizen!】 【Daisy, if you run out of fingers, you still have toes!】 Tim took a deep breath, visibly trying to remain calm. “First of all, 28 minus 3 is 25. Secondly, that’s not how you use ‘robbing the cradle.’ And finally…” He narrowed his eyes. “Arthur, what exactly have you been discussing with Daisy?” Arthur looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Sir, I just casually mentioned that you were old enough to be her father. I had no idea she would interpret it this way…” Tim shot him a glare, then bent down and lifted me up. “Daisy Miller, we need to talk.” He placed me on the sofa and crouched down to my level. “Listen,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. “Thank you for helping me out today. But no more lying from now on, understand?” I swung my feet. “I wasn’t lying! You really could be my daddy!” I counted on my fingers again. “You let me live in a big house and have Arthur give me yummy food. Isn’t that what daddies do?” Tim was stunned. The comments floated by: 【Kid logic is flawless!】 【An irrefutable theory on parenting!】 【Tim: Am I being scammed?】 Arthur chimed in at the perfect moment. “Sir, Miss Daisy is still very young. She needs a guardian…” “I don’t need a guardian,” I declared proudly, puffing out my chest. “I need a daddy!” Then I added in a whisper, “Or a mommy would work too. Can you be my mommy?” Tim: “…” Arthur wiped a tear from his eye and murmured, “Sir, the poor child… her mother passed away when she was two. And that monster David brought his pregnant mistress home right after…” Tim’s expression was complicated. He awkwardly placed a hand on my head and ruffled my hair. “I can’t be your mommy, but… you can call me ‘brother.’” Brother? But didn’t Arthur say he was a lot older than me? I wrinkled my nose and tried it out. “Brother.” Tim: “…Hmph.” That night, a loud clap of thunder jolted me awake. Lightning tore across the sky outside like a monster’s claws. I scrambled out of bed in a panic. Baron, startled by my movement, sleepily licked my face. “BOOM!” Another crash shook the entire house. I couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my little pillow, and bolted out of the room barefoot. Baron followed close behind, his furry body pressed against my trembling legs. Tim’s bedroom was at the end of the hall. 5 I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach the doorknob, pushing the door open just a crack. “Brother…” I peeked in, my head just barely visible. The room was pitch black. “Daisy?” Tim’s voice came from the darkness. A flash of lightning lit up the room, and I yelped, darting inside so fast my pillow fell to the floor. “Can… can I sleep in here?” I twisted the hem of my pajamas. “Just when it’s thundering… I promise I’ll sleep on the floor! I won’t bother you!” “I-I’m not scared of thunder!” I stammered. “It’s… it’s Baron! He’s scared! I wanted to bring him in here…” Baron tilted his head innocently, even though I had been the one clinging to his fur just moments before. The pop-up comments appeared: 【Aww, the poor baby!】 【Tim, hug her right now!】 【My sweet angel! Come sleep with mommy~】 The bedside lamp flickered on. Tim looked at the two of us, a pair of pathetic, shivering messes. He sighed, then lifted a corner of his duvet. “Get in.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “R-Really?” “You have three seconds. After that, the offer’s off the table.” I immediately scrambled onto the massive bed. It was so soft and smelled like fresh pine. I carefully curled up on the very edge, afraid of taking up too much space. “Move in,” Tim frowned. “You’ll fall off and start crying again.” I quickly scooted toward the middle but still kept a safe distance from him. Baron wagged his tail, preparing to jump up. “Not you,” Tim stopped him. “Whine…” Baron, seeing his charms had failed, circled the rug a few times before finding a comfy spot to lie down. Just as I was about to drift off, Tim suddenly asked: “Do you wet the bed?” I was instantly wide awake, turning to face him indignantly. “Only babies wet the bed! I’m a big girl, I don’t do that!” The comments floated by: 【LMAO, the million-dollar question!】 【Tim: Can’t risk the twenty-thousand-dollar mattress!】 【Daisy: You can question my bravery, but you can’t question my bladder!】 To my surprise, Tim let out a low chuckle. I could feel the vibration of his chest through the mattress. “Alright, big girl. Now go to sleep.” I huffed and pulled the covers up to my chin. “I stopped wetting the bed a long, long time ago! My friend Chloe, who’s a whole year older than me, wet her pants last week, and I didn’t even laugh at her…” My voice trailed off as my eyelids grew heavy again. In the hazy space between wakefulness and sleep, I felt him gently stroke my hair. His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper to himself. “…She’s actually pretty well-behaved.” The next morning, when I woke up, Tim was already dressed, fastening his cufflinks. “Daisy, time to get up.” He tapped the nightstand. “You’re going to preschool today.” I blearily opened my eyes, then shot up in bed. “Preschool? Why do I have to go to preschool?” “You don’t want me anymore?” The thought of the car crash brought tears to my eyes instantly. Tim awkwardly wiped them away, frowning at the snot on my nose. “I never said that. You can make new friends at preschool.” “And you can learn new things.” At that, I immediately stopped crying, rolled off the bed, and hugged his leg barefoot. “Then… will you come pick me up?” He looked down at me, the sunlight tracing a golden edge along his handsome profile. “…I will.” “Pinky promise!” I held out my little finger. He sighed but bent down and linked his pinky with mine. “Now, can you please go get ready?” 6 I cheered and ran to the bathroom. The comments: 【Tim is learning to compromise.】 【Who could say no to Daisy’s puppy-dog eyes?】 【Wait, isn’t Daisy getting a bit too much screen time?】 【Hey! Shut up! This kid is adorable, who would want to see her get hit by a car?】 Twenty minutes later, I stood by the door in a brand-new pink dress, a little white bunny backpack on my shoulders. Tim was on the phone, his brow furrowed. “…We’ll discuss the South City project this afternoon. Meet at The Embers.” He hung up and looked at me. “Let’s go.” “Can Baron come with us?” I asked hopefully. “No.” “Oh…” I pouted and followed him. Baron slumped by the door, watching us leave with sad eyes. The entrance to Sunflower Preschool was crowded with parents and children. Tim’s black Maybach pulled up, drawing countless stares. He held my hand as we walked to the reception desk, young mothers turning to look at him the entire way. “And this is…” The teacher, Ms. Peterson, with her round glasses, had a kind smile. “Daisy Miller,” Tim said curtly. Ms. Peterson crouched down to my level. “Daisy, you’re so cute! And this is your…” She looked up at Tim, her eyes sparkling. “Brother!” I said loudly. Ms. Peterson’s smile grew even wider. “Oh, so you’re Daisy’s brother!” After finishing the enrollment paperwork, Tim crouched down and patted my head. “I’ll be here to pick you up at four.” His voice was softer than usual. “Be good for your teacher.” I nodded, suddenly reluctant to let go of his hand. But seeing the other kids staring, I felt too embarrassed to be clingy. I just waved. “Bye-bye, brother!” After Tim left, Ms. Peterson held my hand as we walked to the classroom. “Daisy’s brother is so handsome. Is he married?” I tilted my head, thinking. “No, but he doesn’t like girls.” I’d learned that from the pop-up comments. Ms. Peterson’s smile froze on her face. “Oh… I see…” The comments were hysterical: 【Daisy just outed Tim’s sexual orientation!】 【The sound of a teacher’s heart breaking.】 【Tim: Thanks a lot, kid!】 Four o’clock. The children were being picked up one by one. I pressed my face against the window, waiting anxiously, but there was no sign of Tim. The comments were in a state of chaos: 【Oh no! Skyler’s being forced to drink by a client! That old creep is trying to take advantage of her!】 【Tim happens to be at the same hotel for a business meeting. When he runs into them, Ethan is definitely going to misunderstand again!】 【Daisy is still waiting for Tim… my heart…】 They said Tim was going to be misunderstood again? Does that mean he was going to get hit again? I snuck a glance at Ms. Peterson. She was hiding in a corner, lost in a phone call, not paying any attention to me. This was my chance! I crouched down, blended in with a group of parents, and slipped right out the preschool gate! I had to go save Tim! Remembering the address mentioned in the comments, I hailed a taxi. The driver, a kind-looking man, stared at me in shock. “Hey, kiddo, you all by yourself? Where are your parents?” I put on a serious face. “Mister, take me to The Embers Hotel!” The driver’s eyes widened. “What are you going there for?” I clenched my little fists, my eyes determined. “I’m… going… to… bust… a cheater!” The comments exploded: 【PFFT… LMAO, BUST A CHEATER!】 【Daisy, where did you even learn that phrase?!】 【The driver: This is the peak of my career.】 The driver practically jumped out of his seat. “Bust a… what?!”

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My best friend and I married into the same wealthy family. Her mission: Seduce the overbearing older brother and drain his fortune. My mission: Seduce the famous younger brother and drain his… stamina. But the older brother was too rich; his fortune was endless. And the younger brother was a workaholic who was never home. I sighed. “I think I’m giving up. You?” My best friend replied, “If you give up, I give up.” So I packed our bags, and we made a run for it. The older brother called the younger one in a rage. “Can you get your wife under control? If you can’t handle her, get her a job or something. Just stop her from corrupting mine.” The younger brother was filming a live variety show. In an instant, the entire internet knew he “couldn’t handle her.” That night, he cornered me in the bathroom, beads of sweat on his forehead. “I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered. “Just promise me you’ll never run away again.” 1 We were playing ‘Truth or Dare’ with eighteen male models at a club. My best friend, Lucy, lost. Her forfeit was to have the models surround her and give her a private twerking show. She covered her face, feigning embarrassment. “What’s the big deal?” I teased from the sidelines. “Your husband is way wilder than they are.” “You know what? You’re right,” she declared, dropping all pretense of shyness. “If we’re here, let’s go all out.” She jumped into the circle and started dancing with them. Just as the party reached its peak, a line of bodyguards in black suits and sunglasses stormed in. They bowed to Lucy. “Ma’am, Mr. Blackwood requests your presence.” These were Liam Blackwood’s men. Lucy quickly dismissed the models and grabbed my arm. “Ava, what do I do? If Liam catches me, I’m dead.” “Run,” I said, calm and clear. I pushed through the crowd, heading for the back exit. It wasn’t until I was outside that I realized Lucy hadn’t followed. My phone rang. “Ava, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice small. “I’m not running. Liam’s actually… really good to me. The money is just too good. Where else am I going to find a man like him? I’ve decided to keep going with the mission.” I froze. Just last night, when I’d said I wanted to quit, Lucy had immediately agreed. “I’m with you. If you quit, I quit.” And now this? Betrayed by a girl in love. 2 To be fair, Lucy’s situation was different from mine. We had both been bound by a ‘System’ and married into the ultra-wealthy Blackwood family. Her mission was to seduce the domineering CEO, Liam Blackwood, and bankrupt him. But Liam’s fortune was so vast that even after Lucy had become fabulously wealthy herself, she had barely made a dent. My mission was to seduce the celebrity younger brother, Bobby Blackwood, and drain his physical energy. Although Bobby came from money, he was serious about his career in entertainment. He was a complete workaholic, constantly filming, appearing on shows, or shooting commercials. We had been married for almost three years, and while he deposited every penny he earned into my bank account, he never actually came home. How was I supposed to drain his energy when I never even saw him? That’s why I wanted to give up. Lucy was still on the phone. In the brief silence, I heard the sound of fabric tearing. I didn’t have to guess. Liam was pulling her into the back of his Rolls-Royce. The partition was rising. He was tilting her chin up, his voice thick with possession. “Am I not good to you? Why would you run?” Lucy’s resolve crumbled. “I’m sorry, darling,” she cooed. “I never meant to leave you. It was Ava’s idea. She put me up to it.” A smirk was audible in Liam’s voice. “So, I’ve been too lenient with you. She says a few words, and you run off with her? It seems a punishment is in order…” Ugh. Here we go again with the ‘forced love’ trope. I hung up before their little game could really get started. 3 Back at the hotel, I sat on the sofa in the presidential suite, sipping red wine alone. On the TV, Bobby’s handsome face flickered across the screen. He was starring in a hit fantasy drama, playing a seductive fox demon. The scene currently playing showed him carrying the female lead back to his den to… make little fox demon babies. The comments on the screen flew by: He looks like he has super sperm. She’s a lucky girl. Do it! Do it now! Make all the babies! Please. It was all an act. The truth was, on our wedding night, I had almost completed my mission. We were in the middle of a passionate kiss. But then he went to take a shower, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was already gone—back to his film set. Seriously, who leaves his new wife on their wedding night to go back to work? Muttering to myself, I changed the channel. There he was again, on a variety show promoting the drama with his co-star. Suddenly, his phone rang on live television. He answered it. Liam’s voice boomed from the speaker. “Can you get your wife under control? She took my wife to a club tonight and hired eighteen male models. If you can’t handle her, get her a job or something. Stop her from corrupting mine.” The show was live. The host’s brain practically short-circuited. The online comments exploded: What, Bobby Blackwood is married? Who is his wife? Damn, his wife is a badass. 18 models? Can she handle that? Wait, did that guy on the phone just say Bobby ‘can’t handle her’? … Bobby was calmer than I would have expected. “I’m in the middle of a taping,” he said to his brother. “We’ll talk later.” The incident was a full-blown live TV disaster. As expected, before the show even ended, Bobby’s name was trending everywhere. #BobbyBlackwoodIsMarried #BobbyBlackwoodsWifeHiresModels #BobbyBlackwoodCantHandleHer The entire world now thought he was bad in bed. I looked at the trending topics and almost burst out laughing. I couldn’t resist. Using my burner account, I commented under the most popular post: Such a waste of a pretty face. Satisfied, I tossed my phone on the sofa and fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I rolled over and was met with a crisp, woody scent. “Why didn’t you use your burner account?” a voice asked. It was Bobby. 4 My eyes snapped open. Bobby was leaning over me. What? Had I forgotten to switch accounts before I posted that comment? There was no anger in his voice, only a hint of amused indulgence. “It’s the truth,” I said defensively. “Am I not allowed to say it?” In the next moment, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me toward the bathroom. “What are you doing?” I protested. He set me down on the vanity and slowly, deliberately, kissed me. I had just been watching him act out a kissing scene. In the fox den, he had been coaxing the female lead, but just as their lips were about to meet, the camera had pulled away, showing only their intertwined hands. Now, his lips were on mine. His movements were a little clumsy but incredibly earnest. I could feel him getting aroused. He turned to run the water in the bathtub. As much as I was enjoying this, my resolve to quit the mission was firm. “Bobby,” I reminded him, “I’ve decided to divorce you.” His eyes darkened. I thought he was going to discuss the divorce, but instead, his lips found mine again, hungry and insistent. He was like a seductive fox, luring me in. I must have been drunk. I didn’t push him away. The water in the tub filled, steam clouding the room. I was pliant in his arms. He brushed my hair back from my face, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. “We’re not getting a divorce.” “I know I’ve neglected you.” “I’ll make it up to you. Just… please don’t run away again.” As he spoke, he pressed a credit card into my palm. “This is everything I made this month. It’s all yours.” So that’s what he meant by ‘making it up to me’? Giving me money? But I didn’t want his money. I wanted him. I set the card aside. He sensed my displeasure. “Not enough?” he asked, his voice gentle. “I’ll work harder, earn more. I have three new endorsement deals in the works, and the payment for my next film is coming soon.” For three years, he had worked himself to the bone, taking every job offered, with no time to come home. The balance in my bank account was already ridiculously high. But no matter how much money I had, if he wouldn’t let me touch him, I could never complete my mission. “Bobby, you’ve given me more than enough money,” I said, my fingers tracing the line of his shirt, flicking open a button. “Could you… give me something else?” There was no way he didn’t understand. He caught my wandering hand, his expression momentarily dazed. Then he regained his composure. “Ava, I’ll give you anything you want. Anything… except my body.” 5 His words were like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing every spark of passion I had. “Why?” I had to know. “Because I don’t want to lose…” he murmured, a look in his eyes I couldn’t decipher. He must have someone else. A ‘one that got away’ that he couldn’t forget. That’s why he’d left me on our wedding night—he must have been thinking of her. Our marriage was a sham because he was waiting for her, saving himself for her. When he said he didn’t want to lose, he meant he didn’t want to lose her. “The bath is ready. You should get in,” he said, lifting me off the vanity. I soaked in the tub. When I came out, he was gone. He’d just left, afraid I was going to pounce on him. My phone buzzed with a message from him: Have an early call time tomorrow. Heading back to the set. Get some rest. I called Lucy to vent. “Lucy, is he crazy? He turns me on and then just runs away. What’s his deal?” Lucy’s voice was hesitant. “Uh… I’m a little busy right now… Can we talk tomorrow?” I heard the… activity… in the background and immediately backtracked. “Oh, right. You’re busy. Never mind.” Before I could hang up, Liam’s voice came through, deep and husky. “Pay attention, darling.” It was too much. I quickly ended the call. Now I didn’t even have anyone to complain to. I opened social media and saw I was trending. #BobbyBlackwoodsWifesComment My comment had been traced back to my main account. Now, a swarm of curious fans was flooding my page. So, is it true? Is he all show and no go? Can you please clear this up? I don’t believe for a second that our Bobby is bad in bed. I hadn’t believed it either. He had rushed all the way here to ‘prove’ himself, only to run away with his tail between his legs. Now, I was more certain than ever.

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I am the real heiress nobody wanted, framed and forced to marry Caleb Sterling, the crown prince of New York’s elite. When I was five months pregnant, his first love—the imposter who had stolen my life—divorced her husband and came back for him. I ran into them at my doctor’s office, my swollen belly a testament to a marriage he despised. He gave me one cold look and confirmed my worst fear. “Yes,” he said. “It’s exactly what you think.” He threw a glittering party for her at our home. I was locked in the attic. Later, when the agony in my stomach became unbearable, a housekeeper secretly unlocked the door. I called 911 and stumbled downstairs, only to be met by the sight of him smashing a glass at my feet. “Who the hell,” he roared, “gave you permission to come down here?” The shock and the terror of that night cost me my child. With the few things I owned, I vanished into the storm. When he finally found me, he grabbed my arm, his voice a raw mix of fury and disbelief. “And me?” he demanded. “You don’t want me anymore?” “No.” My biological parents tried to drag me back, warning me that a girl from nothing would never get a better chance than Caleb Sterling. I looked at their faces, feeling nothing. “And you,” I told them. “I don’t want you, either.” 1 I never expected to see Caleb Sterling and Chloe Pierce in the sterile, beige hallway of an Upper East Side obstetrics clinic. Everyone in our world knew their story. They were the golden couple, childhood sweethearts, a love story written in the stars and whispered about at galas. He had adored her, put her on a pedestal so high no one else could touch her. And then, at the peak of their romance, she’d shattered it all, leaving him for a life in Europe without a backward glance. The rumor that followed was potent: Caleb Sterling, broken by the girl he loved, had developed a particular brand of misogyny. An ice-cold wall went up. Any woman who tried to get close was met with a swift, brutal rejection. I was the exception. Not because he loved me. Not even close. I was the exception because I’d been set up. Because on one rain-slicked New York night, we’d ended up in the same bed. And because, against all odds, I got pregnant. My family, the Pierces, had all but gift-wrapped me and forced me on him. He despised me for it. A living symbol of his entrapment. But the baby, his heir, meant he had to marry me. Our eyes met across the waiting room. My first instinct, primal and immediate, was to flee. But it was too late. He was already moving toward me, his long strides eating up the space between us. I took an involuntary step back, my body already turning to leave. “Tracking me?” His voice was low, devoid of warmth. “Thea. Is this the new playbook they taught you?” His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my neck. Not enough to choke, but enough to hold me in place, a gesture of pure ownership and contempt. His eyes were flinty, hard. “Tell me. What are you trying to squeeze out of me this time?” Panic flared in my chest, a breathless, suffocating wave. The baby fluttered inside me, a frantic pulse against my ribs. I struggled against his grip, hot tears welling in my eyes against my will. “I… I wasn’t.” He didn’t believe me, of course. He never did. In his mind, I was the master manipulator who had drugged him and crawled into his bed. A narrative I had tried to correct a thousand times, to no avail. Heads were starting to turn. Chloe drifted to his side, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his arm. “Caleb, darling. People are watching.” Her voice, as always, was the magic word. His grip loosened, and he let me go. As my gaze flickered to Chloe, he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her possessively against him. A deliberate, cruel performance for my benefit. “Yes,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, cold and triumphant. “It’s exactly what you think.” He paused, letting the poison sink in. “Chloe’s pregnant.” “After this baby is born,” he finished, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me, “you’re gone.” 2 The doctor said the baby’s heartbeat was weak. Unsteady. He told me to keep my stress levels down, to focus on pleasant thoughts. I nodded, a hollow space opening up inside my chest. That evening, the moment I walked through the door of the penthouse, two of Caleb’s security guards flanked me. They took my arms firmly, half-dragging me toward the spiral staircase that led to the top floor. “Don’t take it personally, Ms. Hayes,” one of them said, his tone professionally detached. “Mr. Sterling is hosting a party tonight. He doesn’t want your presence to… disrupt the mood.” They opened the door to a sparse, cold guest room, ushered me inside, and locked it from the outside. I was left alone, curled on a bed in a dark, silent room. This wasn’t the first time he’d locked me away. But it had become more frequent in the last month, ever since Chloe had divorced her European husband and returned to New York. It was as if he needed to prove to her, over and over, that his heart had never strayed, that I was nothing more than a villain, an unfortunate consequence. He had locked me up. He had let me go hungry. He had flayed me with words designed to strip me of any dignity. I’d tried to run once, but he’d dragged me back. I remembered that night, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, his face a mask of cold fury. “Scared now?” he’d sneered, his breath hot against my ear. “Isn’t this what you wanted? A baby you schemed to have? You can die, for all I care, but not until you give me my child.” He’d leaned in closer, his voice a venomous whisper. “And think about your old director at the children’s home. Mrs. Gable. I hear she’s getting on in years, her health isn’t what it used to be. It would be a shame if something… unexpected were to happen. Accidents are so common for the elderly, aren’t they?” The threat was clear. He held all the cards. My only ties to this world were a kind old woman and a group of kids in a struggling orphanage. I was utterly, completely alone. I hugged myself tightly in the darkness. I don’t know how long I was in there before the pain started. A deep, twisting agony in my stomach, like a blender tearing me apart from the inside. I stumbled to the door, pounding on it until my knuckles were raw, my voice cracking as I screamed for help. No one came. I collapsed against the door, time dissolving into a haze of pain. Then, a soft click. The door creaked open a few inches. Maria, the housekeeper, was there, her face etched with pity. “Miss Thea, quickly. You must get out.” I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking so badly I could barely dial 911. A cold dread washed over me. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that I was losing this baby. Stumbling down the stairs, I was met with a wall of sound. The main hall was filled with laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses. My sudden appearance silenced the room. A hundred pairs of eyes turned to me, a sea of disgust, pity, scorn, and ridicule. Each glance was a fresh blade. Caleb’s smile froze on his face. He was sitting with Chloe, of course. The usurper, the fake heiress, tucked so closely beside him they looked like one person. Without a word, he rose to his feet. He snatched a champagne flute from a passing tray and smashed it on the marble floor at my feet. The sound was deafening, a gunshot in the silent room. “Who the hell,” he seethed, his voice trembling with rage, “told you you could come down here?” The explosion of glass left a ringing in my ears. A violent, searing cramp seized my abdomen. For a moment, the pain was so absolute, it felt like nothing at all. He started toward me, his face a blur. The world began to tilt. Then, a woman’s horrified gasp from the crowd. “Oh my god… she’s bleeding.” I looked down. A dark, crimson stain was spreading down the pale fabric of my dress, rivulets of red trickling down my legs. And strangely, inexplicably, I felt a sense of relief. My head spun. Just before the darkness took me, strong arms caught me. Caleb? Why did he look so terrified? This was what he wanted. Shouldn’t he be the happiest man in the room?

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The day my father died, my seven uncles died with him. Every last one of them, violently, on the same day. Cole Matthews paid with his legs to make it happen. He waged a one-man war on the syndicate, bled them dry, and put me on the throne. “It’s okay, Sloane,” he’d whispered, his body broken but his eyes fierce. “The monsters are gone. You’re free now.” For years, while he was confined to a wheelchair, I searched for a cure. I chased down a thousand experimental drugs, knelt in the cold marble of a thousand chapels, praying for a miracle. I would have traded anything, done anything, to see him walk again. When Cole found out the lengths I was going to, he swallowed a bottle of pills one night. After they pumped his stomach and the crisis passed, he just smiled weakly, wiping the tears from my face. “Sloane,” he’d said, his voice raspy. “I don’t want to be your anchor. You deserve a better life.” We held each other and cried that night, swearing that nothing, not even death, would ever make us leave the other’s side. That was seven years ago. Today, a girl who looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly showed up at my door with a stack of a thousand private photos. “Every month, when you were off chasing some miracle cure, groveling for God to fix him,” she said, her voice dripping with venom, “Cole and I were finding new ways to sin.” She leaned in, her sweet face twisted into a sneer. “Didn’t you know, Ms. Blackwood? Damaged goods hold no appeal for a man like him. No wonder he’d rather pretend to be a cripple than lay a hand on you.” I looked through every single photograph, one by one. Then I had my people deliver them to the black-market auction house. 1 When Cole arrived, the bidding for picture #999 was in full swing. “Damn, she looks so innocent,” a gruff voice boomed from the crowd. “But look at this last one… the things she’s doing are enough to make a dead man’s blood boil.” Hearing the filthy whispers, Cole’s face went dark. And I watched him walk. He wasn’t limping. He wasn’t stumbling. His stride was powerful, fast, and flawless. The stem of the wine glass in my hand snapped. He stopped in front of me, his tall frame casting a long, oppressive shadow. Seeing the look on my face, the raw violence in his posture softened, and his voice dropped to the low timber I knew so well. “Sloane. She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. I’ll explain everything, I promise. Just call it off.” I stared at him, saying nothing. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Finally, he bent his knees and knelt before me, his handsome face lowered. “If you let her go, I swear she will never cross your path again.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “Sloane, I’m begging you. Call off the auction.” The last time they’d tried to break him, when my uncles’ men shattered his legs, he hadn’t uttered a single plea. Now, he was begging me. For another woman. The sight of his desperation was unbearable. I hurled my glass to the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces, and slapped him across the face, the sound cracking through the room. He didn’t even flinch. He just took it, letting me unleash my fury. When I was done, he gently took my stinging hand and blew softly on the reddened skin. “Sloane, you can hit me, you can scream at me, whatever you want. But Lana… she’s not like us. She can’t handle this kind of punishment. It will destroy her.” I pulled my hand back, a humorless smile playing on my lips. “Fine.” The moment the photos were withdrawn, a visible wave of relief washed over Cole. But before he could speak, a new, more ferocious roar erupted from the crowd below. The main event of the evening was unveiled. Lana, the innocent little rabbit, was curled up inside a massive glass display case, wearing the same uniform from the final, most explicit photograph. The men in the audience, who had been left wanting more, now stared with the eyes of starving wolves. The sound of winner-takes-all private bids echoed through the hall, one after another. I watched Cole’s eyes, saw the red creep into them, inch by inch. But I felt nothing. No satisfaction. Nothing at all. “Sloane, make them stop!” “Mr. Matthews,” my butler, Arthur, said from behind me, his voice firm. “It was this woman who chose to provoke the lady of the house. She knew the risks of challenging you. This punishment is merciful, all things considered.” Cole’s eyes were bloodshot, his hands clenched into fists so tight they trembled. The gavel fell. A portly, red-faced executive eagerly claimed his prize, carrying Lana into a private room. I held Cole’s gaze. “Cole, if we leave right now, I can pretend none of this ever happened.” “Cole, save me—” Lana’s fragmented sobs echoed from the room. Before I could finish my sentence, he was gone, moving like a lightning strike. A gunshot rang out, and the chaotic auction floor fell silent. The disheveled executive was kicked out of the room, his lower body a mess of blood. Cole, seemingly possessed, threw himself on the man, his fists meeting flesh with sickening thuds. He beat the man until he was an unconscious, bloody heap on the floor. After the body was dragged away, Cole emerged, carrying a tear-streaked Lana in his arms. His gaze met mine. The cold, familiar malice in his eyes sent a tremor through my soul. It was the same look from the darkest moment of my life, a memory I fought every day to forget. Cole had been my father’s most brilliant protégé. During the syndicate’s last internal war, my father had sent him overseas on a critical mission. My seven uncles—none of them my blood, all of them hungry for power—seized the opportunity. They drugged me. For forty hours, I was their plaything. By the time Cole got back, I was in a hospital bed. To maintain stability within the family, my father chose to sacrifice me. From that day on, I was diagnosed with severe PTSD. Suicide became a familiar thought, a constant temptation. The last time I tried, Cole held me close. He took a knife and carved seven lines over his own heart, deep enough to leave permanent scars. His eyes then were just as they were now: terrifyingly calm. “Sloane,” he had vowed, his blood dripping onto my hands. “One day, I swear, I will make those animals pay in blood.” 2 The shadow of that memory washed over me again, cold and suffocating. Before I could steady myself, Lana, still crying, shielded Cole with her body. “Sloane! You think you can control everything, don’t you? You’re nothing but a broken toy, something everyone’s already played with! What right does trash like you have to run the Blackwood family?” The auction house was now dead silent. I could hear the sharp intake of breaths from every corner. Even Cole’s face turned white with shock. This was a Blackwood operation. Everyone here knew what my trigger was. And this idiot, this girl, had just dared to pull it in front of everyone. “Cole, I’m not afraid to die. If she has the guts, let her kill—” Before she could finish the word, I put a bullet through her thigh. If Cole hadn’t moved at the last second, it would have been her head. Lana nearly fainted from the pain, but she bit her lip, forcing herself to speak. “Cole, don’t worry about me. I’m not afraid to die for you, it’s just…” She whispered something in his ear. Cole’s breath hitched. Without another glance at me, he lifted her into his arms and started for the exit. The auction house security moved to block his path. Cole had once been my father’s greatest weapon; his skills were legendary. But holding Lana, he was outnumbered. It wasn’t long before he was bruised and bleeding. “Ma’am, that woman will be a plague upon you!” Arthur urged, his voice tight with concern. I watched Cole, his eyes feral, a man transformed by rage. And in his arms, the girl whose dress didn’t even have a speck of dirt on it. I blinked, my eyes dry and aching. A few tears escaped, tasting like bitter laughter. Whatever last shred of hope I held for him vanished. “Let them go.” My voice was flat. “And Arthur? Get me Kian Donovan on the phone. Tell him I accept his offer.” … Cole didn’t come back for three days. During his absence, news trickled in from Northgate. Every man who had placed a bid on those photos at the auction had met with a… misfortune. Cole was always unhinged. This didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was that Lana still had the nerve to provoke me. She sent a package to the Blackwood estate. Inside was a positive pregnancy test and photos of the bidders, beaten to a bloody pulp. A handwritten note oozed with triumph. “Well, Sloane, what good is all your power now? You’re just the woman who had her womb scraped out. You can never have children.” “The baby in my belly is Cole’s only heir. Something you can’t get no matter how many gods you beg.” A laugh, sharp and brittle, escaped my lips. I burned the package to ashes. The next day, Cole stormed into the estate. He kicked Arthur into the koi pond, his face contorted with a rage so pure it was murderous. I waved a hand, and my men pulled Arthur out of the water. “What’s wrong? Tired of playing attack dog out on the streets?” Cole’s face was a thundercloud. He threw a medical report onto the floor. It was a notice of miscarriage. “Sloane, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” I just scoffed. My dismissal seemed to shatter his restraint. He grabbed my arm, dragged me to his car, and drove like a madman to the hospital. Lana was in a private room, weeping as she clutched a pair of baby dolls. “Because of you, Lana has fallen into a severe depression,” Cole said, his voice dangerously low. “The doctors say if she can’t get past this, she’ll never recover.” “You are going to apologize to her.” 3 I looked at him, at the utter conviction on his face. I laughed coldly. Me, apologize to Lana? She didn’t have the right to hear my apology in her next life, let alone this one. I turned to leave, but a sound from his phone stopped me dead. My blood ran cold. Cole was holding his phone up, a vicious, feral look in his eyes. “Sloane. Don’t make me do this.” It was the video. The one he swore he had destroyed after he’d killed my seven uncles. The recording of my forty hours of humiliation. Hearing my own screams from that time, a reflexive wave of nausea hit me, and I stumbled to the side, gagging violently. A flicker of pity crossed Cole’s face. He started to move toward me, but just then, Lana burst out of her room. The sight of me sent her into a frenzy. “You bitch! You took my baby!” she shrieked. “Cole, our baby is gone! The doctor said I can never have children again!” Her sobs were theatrical, heart-wrenching. “I want her on her knees! I want her to beg for our child’s forgiveness!” Cole pulled her into a tight embrace, and any hesitation in his eyes hardened into resolve. “Sloane, you can have the Blackwood empire, I don’t care. But Lana and the baby were innocent. You shouldn’t have touched them.” He looked at his watch. “You have five minutes. After that, this video goes public.”

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On our third anniversary, I put on a wedding dress and asked Liam to marry me. His face went cold. He told me to stop screwing around. I wiped away a tear and managed a smile. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, Liam.” “But… I’m dying. You might want to start looking for my replacement.” He told me I was sick in the head, then slammed the door on his way out. But I wasn’t kidding. I really am dying. 1 I’d been with Liam Carter for three years, and for three years, he spoiled me rotten. If it weren’t for the bubble of his affection, I don’t think I could have lasted this long. I remember the first time he took me to a party with his friends. He’d only been gone, off to the restroom, for a few minutes before the whispers started. They said Liam moved on too fast. That his wife, Annabelle, had barely been gone before he found a new plaything. They said I was from the wrong side of the tracks, that I couldn’t hold a candle to the woman he’d lost. Everyone in that room was dripping with old money and Ivy League degrees. I didn’t want to make trouble for Liam. So I just stared at my lap and said nothing. I let them talk. When Liam came back, he knew instantly that something was wrong. He found my hand under the table and gave it a tight squeeze. “What is it? Who upset you?” The wall I’d built around my feelings, the one I thought was so strong, crumbled at the gentle timber of his voice. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I snatched my hand away, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over. “It’s nothing. The AC is just blasting in here. I’m freezing.” He watched me for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he stood, took his jacket from the back of his chair, and draped it over my shoulders. He took my hand again, this time lacing his fingers through mine, a silent declaration on top of the polished mahogany table. Across from us, a younger guy with a smirk couldn’t help himself. He lifted his bourbon, swirled it, and took a theatrical sniff. “Wow,” he said loudly. “Smells like some serious drama in here.” A few others snickered. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, the shame so hot I just wanted to disappear. “Liam, I think I need to use the restroom…” But he held my hand tighter, refusing to let go. His eyes swept across the table, finally landing on the self-appointed comedian. “Caleb,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Apologize to Stella.” 2 The mood in the room curdled. Caleb and Liam went way back. No one could believe he’d call out one of his oldest friends for a girl he’d just started seeing. After a stunned silence, Caleb scoffed. “You want me to apologize to her? Liam, what the hell is she?” Liam’s gaze never left Caleb, but his thumb began to gently stroke the back of my hand. “Stella is my girlfriend. If you still want to call me a friend, you’ll apologize.” I tugged on his arm, whispering, “It’s okay, really.” The last thing I wanted was for him to blow up a friendship over me. It would only make things worse. But Liam just patted my hand, a silent command to stay quiet. Caleb’s face flushed with anger. He shot to his feet, pointing a finger at Liam. “Then what about Annabelle? What was she? She’s been gone six months, and you’re already showing off some cheap replacement!” he spat. “Have you forgotten how she died?” Liam’s grip on my hand became a vise. The pressure was so intense I thought my bones would snap. I winced but didn’t dare make a sound. His face, however, remained a mask of calm. “Stella is Stella. Annabelle is Annabelle. Don’t compare them,” he said, his voice flat. “She’s gone. I have to move on.” His bluntness silenced the entire room. My own heart felt like it had been squeezed in a fist. Tears pricked my eyes again. Liam, however, simply wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to my feet. “Don’t invite me to things like this anymore,” he said to the silent table. “It upsets Stella.” From that day on, I had a reputation in his circle. They all said Liam Carter had found a girl who was a dead ringer for Annabelle. And that he was spoiling her beyond all reason. 3 I knew Liam had been married. I knew a car accident had cut it short. He’d told me all of it himself the night he asked me to be his girlfriend. He was single, and I was single. I hadn’t broken anything up. So I refused to be branded a homewrecker. After we left the party that night, I quietly tried to end things. “Liam, maybe we should just forget it. I don’t want people looking at me like that.” He stopped walking and turned to face me, tipping my chin up so he could look into my eyes. The streetlight cast long shadows across his face. “Are you angry?” It wasn’t anger, not really. But being called a replacement felt like a splinter under my skin. Every time I thought about it, the pain was sharp and fresh. Since we’d been together, I’d never once brought up his late wife. I figured some chapters were best left closed. But tonight, the way he’d crushed my hand under the table… it planted a seed of doubt. I had never seen a photo of Annabelle. There were no pictures of her in his apartment, not even on his phone. It was a complete blank slate. If Caleb hadn’t said anything, I never would have known. That I looked just like her. “You and Annabelle—” He cut me off, his tone suddenly sharp. “You are you. She is she.” The sudden chill in his voice startled me. I just stared at him, speechless. A moment later, the ice in his eyes thawed, and he let out a soft sigh. “Are you saying you’re breaking up with me? Found someone without a limp?” 4 The accident had left Liam with a permanent injury in his left leg. If you watched closely when he walked, you could see a slight, almost imperceptible limp. But he had been completely transparent about it from the beginning. How could I possibly hold it against him? He was twisting my words, and I fell right into his trap. “What are you talking about? I would never think that!” I said, rushing to defend myself. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. He pulled me into his arms, his mouth finding mine in the cool night air. “Good girl,” he murmured against my lips. “Don’t overthink things.” … Later, in the bedroom, he pinned me to the sheets, overwhelming my senses. When we made love, he had this habit of staring deep into my eyes, as if he were falling into them. It was unnerving, heartbreakingly intense. I couldn’t handle his heated gaze. I’d hide my face in the crook of his arm and gently bite his tense bicep. He would just laugh and ask me why I was so shy. In those moments, the sweetness was enough to wash away all the bitterness, all the doubt. Liam’s fierce, protective love became my armor. The next time someone said something, I echoed his words back at them: “You have to move on. You can’t expect him to be alone forever, can you?” The response was always laced with scorn. “Oh, that’s rich! You really think you’re something special, don’t you? You think Liam Carter is going to marry you? Keep dreaming,” one of them sneered. It was Brooke, Caleb’s girlfriend. “Everyone knows what Annabelle meant to him. She was with him through everything, from nothing to the top. And that car accident? If she hadn’t shielded him, Liam would be the one who’s dead!” “Exactly,” another girl chimed in. “She was the one that got away. And you can’t replace a ghost. The only reason he even looks at you is because you have her face.” It was Brooke who led the charge, cornering me with her little posse. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. As they left, she deliberately stepped on my foot. “You can put a designer dress on a piece of trash,” she said, looking me up and down. “But it’s still trash.” 5 I crouched down, frantically trying to wipe the smudge from my shoe. As I scrubbed, tears started to fall. Liam had picked these shoes for me. They were covered in tiny, glittering crystals, like something out of a fairytale. Before we left the apartment, he had knelt down and put them on my feet himself. He said they were beautiful. Liam never lied to me. The way he cared for me was something I’d never experienced before. But… every time they compared me to Annabelle, I was defenseless. She was gone. Anything I said would be seen as disrespecting the dead. I wiped my tears and hid in a quiet corner to make a call. They had their friends, but so did I. After thirty minutes on the phone with Maya, I felt a little better. I looked up and saw Liam across the room, effortlessly charming, laughing with a group of men in suits. The glittering lights of the chandelier separated us, casting us in two different worlds. As if he could feel my gaze, he turned his head and shot me a smile. It was warm and intimate, a secret just for me. I knew I would never truly fit into his world. But I also knew I couldn’t bear to be anyone’s ghost. … On the anniversary of Annabelle’s death, Liam prepared to visit her grave. I asked if I could go with him. He refused without a second thought. “This has nothing to do with you,” he said. “Just stay home and wait for me. Or go shopping, whatever you want.” I held onto his hand, trying to be playful. “I just want to see her, you know? Bring her some flowers—” Liam pulled his hand away, his tone hardening. “Stella, I know what you’re doing. Do you really care that much about what other people say? Can’t you just let it go with a dead woman?” Tears welled in my eyes and fell before I could stop them. Yes, I cared. I cared if he would ever marry me. I cared if he was only with me because I was a stand-in. I looked him in the eye, my voice trembling but stubborn. “Will you marry me then?” Liam went silent. As he turned to leave, he threw the words over his shoulder. “Stella, I don’t want to get married. If you can’t accept that, you can leave.” 6 It was the first real fight we ever had. I sat alone in our sprawling living room and listened to the rain fall all night long. He came back the next morning. The walk from the front door to the living room was only a dozen steps, but he took them with agonizing slowness. His limp was more pronounced than I had ever seen it. “Stella,” he said, his voice strained. “My leg is killing me. Can you… can you come hold me?” It was the old injury from the crash. A deep, chronic pain that never truly healed. It flared up on damp, rainy days like this, torturing him, keeping him awake all night. Sometimes it was so bad he had to rely on painkillers just to get through it. I couldn’t stand to see him suffer. I had even taken a course in therapeutic massage just for him. Whenever the weather turned, I would spend hours rubbing his leg, trying to ease the ache. He sank onto the sofa beside me. He took my hand, his own feeling cold and tired. “Stella, please don’t be angry anymore,” he sighed. “Can we just… not fight again? Ever?” He was surrendering. He knew I would soften, that I would forgive him. He knew I was powerless against his pain. You can’t win a fight against a ghost. And we had a lifetime ahead of us. What was the rush? After that day, I never said the name “Annabelle” again. And we never fought again. For three years, he gave me everything I could ever want. Our relationship felt unshakable. Today was our third anniversary. I put on a wedding dress, held a bouquet of white roses, and waited for him to come home. I’d been planning this surprise for a month. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face. The door opened. Liam’s voice, laced with a bit of weariness from a long day, drifted in from the foyer. “Stella, guess what I got for you—” His words died in his throat the moment he saw me. I opened my arms wide, a brilliant smile on my face. “Liam! Surprise!” But I watched the light in his eyes extinguish, ember by ember, until only cold ash remained. “Stella, don’t do this. Take it off.” “I told you,” he said, his voice flat. “I don’t want to get married.” 7 We stood on opposite ends of the living room, staring at each other like strangers. The air was thick, heavy, almost impossible to breathe. Finally, he loosened his tie and tossed the bouquet and gift box he was holding onto the coffee table. He lit a cigarette, the flare of the lighter sharp in the dimming light. I was frozen in place, forcing my lips into a smile, desperate to salvage the evening. “Liam, this dress… I went to every bridal shop in the city to find it. Isn’t it beautiful?” His cheek hollowed as he took a long drag from the cigarette. He exhaled slowly, the smoke billowing out and obscuring his face. The fragile hope I’d been clinging to dissolved with the smoke. All he said was, “Change.” In that instant, the light, airy tulle of the dress felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, pulling me down, making it hard to stand. “Liam, we’ve been together for three years… Don’t you like the surprise?” He leaned back against the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Stella, the plan was a quiet dinner, maybe some candles. Tomorrow, we were supposed to be on a plane to Bali. Everything was perfect. Why… why did you have to do this?” He was right. A three-year anniversary trip to Bali. That was the plan. But plans change. I gathered the skirt in my hands and walked toward him. It was a form of self-torture, but I couldn’t stop myself. I smiled. “Liam, the reason you won’t marry me… it’s because of her, isn’t it? You can’t let her go. You’re still living in the past with Annabelle—” His head snapped up. “Stella,” he said, his voice a low warning. “I told you not to talk about her.” 8 Don’t talk about her. As if that would make him stop thinking about her. Then why did you make me grow my hair out? Why are the shoes you buy for me always a size too big? Why do you go to the house you shared with her on her birthday and on the anniversary of her death, and stay there all night, alone? Liam. Who are you trying to fool? Me, or yourself? My eyes burned, and his face blurred through a film of tears. I wiped them away furiously, pulling my lips into a tight, humorless smile. “You know, Liam, if you’re honest with yourself, you didn’t even love her that much.” “If you truly loved someone,” I said, my voice shaking, “you wouldn’t tolerate a replacement.” That hit a nerve. He shot up from the sofa and his hands were around my neck before I could even register he had moved. “You’ve crossed a line, Stella,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “Your job is to stay by my side, to look like her, to make me happy. It’s so simple. Why can’t you do that? Why do you have to be so greedy and ask for marriage?” “I told you! You are you, and she is she! You can’t compare yourselves! Why can’t you get that through your head?” He was losing control, his eyes bloodshot, his grip tightening. For a terrifying second, I thought he was actually going to kill me. But then his eyes met mine—the eyes that looked so much like Annabelle’s—and his resolve faltered. He let go. I stumbled backward, collapsing onto the floor in a heap of white tulle. I looked up at him and laughed, a ragged, broken sound. “Does it hurt? Having your little fantasy exposed after all this time? Tell me,” I gasped, “if I died, could you find another girl who looks this much like her?” “Enough,” he growled. “Stop this nonsense. Stay here and think about what you’ve done. This will not happen again.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He even forgot to take his anniversary gift with him. I destroyed everything in the living room. Then I sank to the floor amidst the wreckage, laughing and crying until I had nothing left. He said I was being dramatic.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384819”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was nine months pregnant when I cleared the memory on the dashcam. That’s when I found it: a saved location, a strange apartment complex in the West End, woven into the fabric of my husband’s daily commute home. The footage showed him getting out of the car with bags of groceries, his back disappearing into the building with an ease that spoke of routine. Once, I even heard a woman’s voice, a soft, melodic complaint drifting through the open car window. “What took you so long? You’re ten minutes late. I’m starving.” Five years of marriage. Four rounds of IVF to get this baby. I couldn’t bring myself to detonate our world. So I did nothing. I pretended I saw nothing. A week later, I was in the delivery room, the birth turning complicated, when Michael’s phone rang. A frantic voice crackled through the speaker. “Chloe’s on the roof. She says if you don’t come right now, she’s going to jump.” His hand pulled away from mine before his brain could even process the choice. “She’s the daughter of my late mentor…” He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I just have to talk her down.” “If you walk out that door today,” I screamed, my voice tearing from my throat, raw and desperate, “this baby will not have a father.” He paused at the door, his shoulders tight. He threw a look back at me, a flicker of something—pity, maybe, or regret. But then his resolve hardened, and he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he ran. 1 I knew the woman on the phone. Chloe. I’d seen her face countless times on Michael’s dashcam. I lay on the operating table, my gown soaked through with sweat, clinging to me like a second skin. My child wasn’t even born yet, and his father had already abandoned him. Through a haze of pain and fear, I could hear shouting in the hallway. My parents, his parents, their voices clashing in a storm of anger and disbelief. Another contraction ripped through me, a tidal wave of agony, but it was nothing compared to the shattering of my heart. My mother’s voice, choked with tears, was the loudest. “Who the hell is that woman? Is Michael insane? Leaving his wife while she’s in labor?” Michael’s parents were desperately making calls, their voices trembling. “Claire, honey, just hold on. We’ve sent someone to find that damn fool. If he doesn’t come back today, we don’t have a son!” In my struggle, my wedding band slipped from my finger, falling to the floor. A nurse’s shoe kicked it into the shadows under the bed. The contractions were coming faster now, a frantic, punishing rhythm. The alarms on the machines began to shriek, one after another. “Fetal heart rate is dropping!” A doctor’s shout cut through the chaos, and then, my world went black. When I woke up, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nose. A nurse was adjusting my IV drip. Seeing my eyes open, she spoke in a hushed, gentle tone. “You lost a lot of blood. You’re lucky we were able to save you. As for the baby… you can always have another.” A bomb went off inside my chest, leaving a gaping, silent crater where my heart used to be. My mother sat beside me, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she gently wiped my own away. “Oh, my sweet girl. You’ve been through so much.” My father stood by the bed, his face a mask of pain. Michael’s parents hovered in the corner, their faces etched with guilt. I stared at the blank white ceiling, silent tears tracking a path back into my hair. The last five years of my life played out in my mind like a silent film. Michael’s proposal at our college graduation. The way he stayed up all night researching recipes for my morning sickness. The look of pure joy on his face as he meticulously recorded the baby’s heartbeat at every check-up. Every single one of those tender moments was now a bitter joke. Michael’s best friend, Leo, stood hesitating in the doorway, his guilt radiating off him in waves. “Claire… Chloe, she… she had a depressive episode. Said she’d jump if Michael didn’t go. He didn’t have a choice… you…” He trailed off, unable to finish, as if he finally heard how hollow the words sounded. “And what?” I asked, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. “I’m supposed to be understanding?” I wanted to ask him how many times he’d covered for Michael. How many of their “guys’ nights” were really something else entirely. But then, suddenly, I didn’t want to know. I waited for my husband to come back. I waited as the sun set and the moon rose, as the darkness of night gave way to the pale light of dawn, and then as night fell once more. At eight p.m., after twenty full hours of silence, Michael finally appeared. His suit was rumpled, and his gaze skittered away from mine. “Claire, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice raspy. “Chloe was in a really bad place. Her father made me promise I’d look after her before he passed. I had to…” I cut him off. My voice was a shredded whisper. “Do you know that our baby is gone?” My words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. “You knew I was having a C-section yesterday. You knew, and you still chose to go to her.” I could feel the last threads of my control starting to fray. “Michael, that was our child.” Silence stretched across the sterile room. He reached for my hand; his palm was cold as ice. “Claire, in five years, I’ve never asked you for anything. Not really. But this one time, I am begging you not to make a scene.” My blood ran cold. “Chloe just lost her father,” he continued, his voice low and urgent. “If she gets accused of breaking up a marriage on top of that, her depression will get so much worse.” I looked at the desperate plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being ripped into confetti. He shouldn’t be begging me for this. He should be on his knees outside the NICU, sobbing his heart out. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He hadn’t asked the doctors why I’d hemorrhaged. He hadn’t asked how scared I was during the surgery. His first words, his only concern, were for another woman. Tears streamed from my eyes, soaking the pillowcase. It took every ounce of strength I had left to force a single word from my throat. “Fine.” He let out a breath he was clearly holding. “Chloe can’t be alone right now,” he said, as if discussing a business arrangement. “I’m going to move in with her for a little while. Just until she’s more stable. Maybe five months or so. Then I’ll come back, and we can start trying for another baby. Okay?” His tone was so casual, like he was rescheduling a meeting. My eyes snapped wide open. It was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. The child we had waited five years for was gone, and my husband was already making five-month plans for another woman. In that instant, my world didn’t just crack. It imploded. 2 My hand instinctively went to my flat stomach. Just days ago, it had held a new life, the living proof of the love we once shared. Now, it was just an empty, mocking space. I slowly pulled my hand from his grasp. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Michael.” He looked at me, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “The first time you tried to make soup for my morning sickness, you filled the entire kitchen with smoke. You secretly recorded the baby’s heartbeat and made it your ringtone, showing it off to anyone who would listen. You stood outside the ultrasound room and shouted, ‘Don’t be scared, honey!’ until a nurse chased you away three times.” My voice started to break. “For five years, you spoiled me so completely I barely knew how to function. You insisted on tying my shoes for me… I really, truly believed we would be happy forever.” I lifted my tear-streaked face to his. “But now… when I look at you, I can’t see a single trace of that man. There’s no concern for me in your eyes at all.” The weight of five years of memories washed over us. Michael’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “But Claire,” he finally choked out, “Chloe really needs me right now.” She needs me. Those three words pulverized the last glittering shard of hope I had left. I stared at him, at this man who had suddenly become a stranger. My voice trembled as I bit out the words. “Get. Out.” He flinched, took a half-step toward me as if to embrace me, but then he turned. Without another word, he walked away, his figure disappearing down the long, empty hallway. On the day that would have been our baby’s three-month memorial, I knelt at the tiny grave. Michael wasn’t there. “Hi, sweetie. Mommy’s here to see you.” My voice was a soft whisper, but I couldn’t stop it from shaking. My mother wrapped an arm around my shoulders, her own tears falling freely. “I’m here, Claire. Mom’s right here.” I leaned into her, my voice thick with grief. “It’s okay. At least I had him with me for a little while. And… maybe, with things being the way they are… maybe it’s better that he didn’t have to come into this family.” Just as the words left my lips, Michael arrived. He knelt beside me. “My sweet boy, Daddy’s…” “I told you that day,” I cut him off, my voice cold as stone. “If you walked out, this child wouldn’t have a father.” He frowned, a look of pained exasperation on his face, as if I were a petulant child throwing a tantrum and he was the magnanimous adult, tolerating my outburst. “Claire, I know you’re hurting, but don’t say things like that. I’m his father, and I’m hurting too. You…” My mother’s hand shot out, the sharp crack of her palm against his cheek echoing in the quiet cemetery. “Hurting?” she spat. “Is your idea of hurting abandoning your wife during a high-risk delivery to go take care of some tramp?” Michael’s face darkened instantly. But before he could speak, Chloe herself came rushing toward us from the cemetery gates, her eyes red and swollen. She looked only at Michael, her voice catching on a sob. “Michael? Are you done? Are we… are we finally going home now?” My father surged forward. “Michael! What day is it? Do you have any idea what you’re doing, bringing her here?” Michael seemed to realize how terrible this looked. He stammered, “Dad, I didn’t have a choice. Chloe’s not been well. I couldn’t leave her at home alone.” “Not well? And it’s your job, a married man’s job, to take care of her? Do you know what today is for your son? Do you have any idea what your wife has been going through?” Chloe immediately bowed her head, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. “I’m so sorry, sir… I didn’t mean to. It’s just, Michael said he was coming out here today, and I got scared being alone, so I followed him.” It was a masterful performance of fragile victimhood. And, of course, it worked. Michael immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her. “Dad, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Don’t blame her.” My father, incandescent with rage, turned to Michael’s parents. “This is the fine son you two raised!” My mother helped me to my feet, her whole body trembling with fury. “Michael, are you even human?” His parents were frantic now. “Michael, this really isn’t the place,” his mother pleaded. “Please, just have someone take Chloe home.” But Michael acted as if he hadn’t heard a word. Instead, he took Chloe’s hand, his grip tightening. “Her mental state is finally stabilizing. She can’t handle any more stress.” I stared at him, my voice cracking. “So… in your world, she can’t be stressed, but I can? I’m just supposed to handle the death of our child on my own, is that it?” Before he could answer, Chloe spoke up, her voice laced with wounded nobility. “It’s okay, Michael. Claire’s right. It was thoughtless of me. You… you should go back to her. Take care of your wife.” She sniffled. “I’ll… I’ll go home right now and pack your things.” She turned, stumbled, her high heel catching on the edge of a headstone, and she went down hard. Michael’s hand, which was still holding mine, clenched so tightly I thought my bones would snap. He almost let go, almost lunged for her. But he stopped himself, watching as Leo rushed over to help her up. A long moment passed. Then he spoke, his voice low and heavy. “I’ll stay with you a little while longer.” He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Chloe. “But you need to remember something, Chloe. Claire is my wife. The one I married. The day she needs me to come home, I have to leave. No tears, no scenes. I’ve done more than enough for you over the years.” Chloe bit her lip, and then, as if she could no longer hold it in, she burst into tears and ran from the cemetery. Michael didn’t move. He didn’t chase her. He just stood there, his expression unreadable. But the hand holding mine was trembling. You can’t hide what you truly care about. Years ago, I was hospitalized with acute gastritis, and he drove all night from a business trip to be with me. His eyes were red with worry, but he put on a stern face and lectured me about eating street food. He was just like this then, too. Saying harsh words with his mouth, while his thumb gently, unconsciously, stroked the back of my hand. 3 That evening, in the private dining room of a restaurant, the air was thick with tension. Our parents sat around the large circular table, the silence broken only by the clinking of silverware. Leo leaned over and whispered in Michael’s ear. “Chloe’s still in the parking lot. The valet said she’s just sitting in her car, crying.” Michael didn’t even look up. He was spooning soup into a bowl for me, his movements steady and deliberate. “Let her,” he said, his voice flat. The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch. The meal was tasteless. It felt no different from all the meals I had eaten alone lately. Chloe was the daughter of Michael and Leo’s beloved professor, a man who had been a mentor to them both. They had all grown up together. Leo never said it outright, but he always looked out for her more than he ever did for me, his supposed sister-in-law. When the main courses arrived, the final dish, a steamed snapper, was placed in front of me. Leo suddenly spoke up. “We should save some of that for Chloe. Fish is her favorite. If you want more, Claire, we can just order another one.” Michael let out a short, cold laugh. He reached out and pulled the entire platter of fish directly in front of my plate. His voice was hard as ice. “What my wife likes to eat is not for outsiders to share.” He said the words. But after he put down his chopsticks, his eyes kept darting toward the door of the private room. A waiter came in to clear the empty dishes. As he was about to take the scraps to the kitchen, Michael, who had been silent for a long time, suddenly stood up. “I’ll do it.” The waiter stared, baffled, but handed over the trash bag. After Michael left, Leo quickly moved to the farthest seat at the table and pretended to be engrossed in an email on his phone. Our parents lapsed back into an awkward, mechanical silence. The tightness in my chest was becoming unbearable. I stood up and walked into the hallway, needing fresh air. Without thinking, I found myself walking down to the underground parking garage. That’s when I heard it: Chloe’s soft, aggrieved sobs, mingled with Michael’s low, comforting murmurs. I ducked behind a concrete pillar. Outside, a light snow had begun to fall. Michael and Chloe were sitting side-by-side on the hood of his car, sharing a takeout container. He reached up and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. Chloe, her eyes red, balled her fist and hit his chest playfully, a pout on her face. “You’re going back to her anyway, so why are you still acting like you care about me?” Michael let her hit him, his expression filled with an endless, patient indulgence. It was a look of pure, unguarded tenderness—completely different from the careful, deliberate kindness he always showed me. “Don’t be silly,” he said, his voice laced with resignation. “I promised your father I’d take care of you for the rest of my life. You know I’m not going to abandon you, don’t you?” Chloe’s sobs subsided as she leaned into his side. Michael picked up a piece of pork rib with his chopsticks and held it to her lips. “I had this sent over from that private kitchen you like,” he murmured. “It’s much better than the food at the restaurant.” She took a bite, and her crying finally stopped. Michael began to explain, his voice low. “Claire just lost the baby. She’s emotionally unstable. This is just one dinner to keep the peace. Once she’s satisfied, she won’t keep pushing me to come home all the time.” So that was it. That was his calculation. All those times, over five years, when he’d sided with me in small, insignificant arguments—it wasn’t about love. It was just a strategy to keep me quiet, to stop me from making trouble for Chloe. A few crumbs of affection were enough to make me feel grateful, to keep me docilely by his side. I looked at the two of them, huddled together against the falling snow. Michael had a sensitive stomach and a small appetite. He’d eaten a full meal upstairs in the dining room, yet he was now eating most of the food in the takeout container. Maybe it’s true what they say. You can only truly enjoy a meal with someone who shares your heart. Whether it was a childhood sweetheart or the great love of his life, one thing was clear. That person wasn’t me. 4 I turned and walked away silently. From my purse, I pulled out the divorce papers I’d had drawn up days ago. When I returned to the private room, divorce papers in hand, both sets of parents stood up. After the spectacle in the cemetery, even Michael’s parents didn’t know how to argue for their son anymore. My own parents just sighed and told me, “If you want a divorce, you have our support.” Michael’s mother hesitated, then gripped my hand, her eyes pleading. “Claire, can’t you just give him one more chance? He’s only like this because he feels so indebted to his mentor.” I said nothing. I just placed the papers on the table. Just as tears started to well in her eyes, the door swung open. Michael was back. And he had brought Chloe with him. She was wearing his suit jacket, and she surveyed the room with an air of entitlement, as if she were the incoming Mrs. Davies. The room fell dead silent. Every eye was on them. “Michael,” his mother’s voice trembled. “Why is she back here?” His father slammed his wine glass on the table. “Michael, have you lost your mind?!” Michael didn’t answer them. His gaze swept over the coat I was wearing and finally landed on my face. “Finished eating?” “Yes,” I replied calmly. “I’m going home.” He seemed to relax. “Okay. Text me when you get there.” He said it so casually, then turned and gently guided Chloe forward. “Mom, Dad, you know my mentor passed away. Before he died, he entrusted Chloe to me. I can’t go back on my word. For the next little while, I need to give her a job, so she’ll be starting at the company.” His brazen honesty made our earlier outrage seem petty and overwrought. Chloe smiled politely and reached for his mother’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am. Michael has taken such good care of me. He wanted me to meet all of you tonight. Since everyone is here, perhaps I could offer a toast?” Michael’s mother looked at me, her face a mess of conflicting emotions. “Claire, why don’t you… sit down and we can talk about this?” I was about to refuse, but Chloe cut in, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Yes, Claire. You should sit. You’re still his wife, after all. There are some things you should be aware of, don’t you think?” CRACK. The sound of the slap was sharp and clean in the silent room. I stared in shock as my mother lowered her hand from Chloe’s face. “Mom!” My mother turned to me, her eyes blazing, her voice shaking with a rage I had never seen before. “I carried you for ten months. Do you think I don’t know my own daughter? You married him when you were twenty-two. You’re twenty-seven now. Five years! You gave up a scholarship to study abroad for him. You managed his company socials for him. When he had stress-induced gastritis from drinking too much, you stayed by his hospital bed for three days without sleep. You loved him that much. You wouldn’t be letting go unless your heart was completely dead.” Her voice broke. “I don’t need you to be rich or famous. But I will not stand here and watch him humiliate you with his mistress. If you won’t do it, I’ll do it for you!” Her words were like a hammer blow, and the tears I had been holding back finally broke free. Chloe cradled her cheek, tears pooling in her eyes. Michael immediately pulled her behind him, his expression dark and terrifyingly angry. “Claire,” he seethed. “When did you learn to hide behind your parents to…” “Do you know what I find most disgusting about you?” I cut him off, stepping forward and slapping him across the face with all the strength I had. “Michael, you’re the one who deserves to be hit!” I snatched the divorce papers from the table and threw them at his chest. He caught them automatically. His eyes widened as he read the title. His pupils contracted. “Claire… you want a divorce?”

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As our whole class watched the game stream together, the vice president, Caden, sneered at the female player on screen. “Man, it must be nice not having balls. Just spread your legs and the mission’s done. Wish I was a girl!” Just as everyone was about to argue with him, we were all suddenly dragged into the game. 【Welcome to the Live Chat Battle Royale!】 【Survive by completing the game according to the rules set by your own live chat comments!】 The moment the voice faded, Caden’s crude comment materialized as a crimson banner above his head. The next second, his crotch erupted in a mist of blood. 1 We were in the international program at Northwood Prep—just twelve of us, all set to head to universities abroad this summer. The usual pre-exam tension was nonexistent. The day before our finals, we were all gathered, watching a horror battle royale stream. The game was set in an abandoned school. The female streamer was being coddled by her teammates, never having to lift a finger for any of the tasks. My classmates’ fingers flew across their keyboards, flooding the live chat with a storm of complaints. 【What a fucking useless leader, all he does is hide with the girl. Man up and fight!】 【God, I hate it when couples drag the team down. Can’t they just break up before playing?】 【Not to be sexist, but I hate teaming up with girls. So much drama!】 【A true leading lady does it alone. No need for teammates!】 And Caden, the vice president sitting next to me, just had to shout his opinion out loud with a contemptuous smirk. “Man, it must be nice not having balls. No need to grind, just spread your legs and someone else does the work for you. Wish I was a girl!” As he spoke, he typed the exact same words into the chat and hit send. Several of the girls in the room instantly blew up. “What the hell is wrong with you, Caden? What did girls ever do to you?” “Did you just crawl out of a sewer? Your mouth stinks. Go brush your teeth!” But Caden was completely unfazed. “People just can’t handle the truth. It’s a fact you girls don’t have anything between your legs. Did I say a single word that was wrong?” He had that smug, self-satisfied look of someone who thinks they’re the only sane person in a world of fools. It made me sick. But in the next instant, the world warped. The clean white walls of our classroom were suddenly smeared with dark, crimson stains. “What’s going on?” “Holy shit, don’t scare me like that…” “Why… why does this look exactly like the game?” I lifted my head to the blackboard. In the stream we’d been watching, that’s where all the clues appeared. Sure enough, glowing green text materialized on its surface. 【Welcome to the Live Chat Battle Royale!】 【Survive by completing the game according to the rules set by your own live chat comments!】 2 Confusion swept through the room. “Live Chat Battle Royale? What the hell is that?” “Someone explain this! I don’t get it!” A moment later, Caden’s scream provided all the explanation we needed. A sharp, wet pop echoed in the classroom, and Caden’s lower body was instantly shrouded in a cloud of red mist. The comment he’d just posted hovered ominously above his head, a translucent, blood-red banner that seared itself into our eyes. 【Man, it must be nice not having balls. No need to grind, just spread your legs and it’s over. Wish I was a girl!】 Not having balls. It clicked. I suddenly understood. Caden said he wished he didn’t have anything between his legs, and the game had made it a reality. A few students, their faces drained of all color, stumbled into a corner and started retching. A cold sweat broke out on my own skin. I was just thankful I’d been so focused on Caden’s disgusting rant that I hadn’t typed anything myself. In his condition, he probably wouldn’t last the day. Oh, not even a day. His legs began to spread apart at a horrifyingly unnatural angle. He seemed to realize what was happening and desperately tried to pull them back together. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said it! I know I was wrong!” he shrieked, his voice cracking with terror. “I shouldn’t have insulted women! Please, stop, don’t—” A sound like a pig being slaughtered filled the room as his bones groaned with an audible, sickening crack. He was already in a full split, but his legs kept pulling, slowly, relentlessly, in opposite directions. I heard the sound of tearing flesh and squeezed my eyes shut. Behind me, one of the boys screamed, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeal. “He’s being ripped in half!” Students at the back of the room were frantically pounding on the door and windows, trying to escape, but nothing budged. Caden was torn apart, starting from his legs. His insides spilled out onto the floor in a grotesque heap. His eyes were wide with horror, staring blankly even after he stopped breathing. The bloody text above his head slowly faded until it vanished completely. Amidst the chaos, a speaker crackled to life from above. 【Warm-up complete. The general rules for this game will now be announced.】 3 The sudden voice made me jump. You call that pool of guts a warm-up? 【This Battle Royale will last for four days and four nights. During the day, players may move freely. At 8 PM every evening, all players must gather for a mandatory discussion, followed by a vote to determine that night’s eliminated player. At night, all players must rest separately; prolonged grouping is a violation.】 【Each comment has corresponding sub-rules that must be strictly followed. The game will only reveal the comment’s content, not its owner. When a player dies, their corresponding comment and its rules will disappear.】 【There are a total of six Item Cards hidden throughout the school. Three ‘Cancel Cards’ can eliminate a designated comment (your own or someone else’s). Two ‘Swap Cards’ can randomly exchange the ownership of two comments. One ‘Generator Card’ can create a new comment, but its rules cannot override or contradict the general rules.】 【Surviving for four days and four nights constitutes victory. The winners will split a prize of twenty million dollars.】 I let out a small sigh of relief. In principle, multiple people could survive. And for kids in the international program, none of us were hurting for money. 【The system has identified 9 valid comments. Player Caden has been eliminated. The remaining 8 comments are now displayed on the blackboard. Please review them.】 Eight blocks of large, green text appeared on the board. Below each, smaller red text detailed the specific rules. Everyone had more or less pulled themselves together and we all started reading. Comment 1: 【I never trust random probability. With precise calculation, you can’t lose!】 Rule: The owner of this comment has a passive skill that grants a one-time immunity to the effect of any Item Card. We all knew who this had to be. Leo, our resident academic star. A 24-karat nerd who believed every problem in the universe could be solved with an equation. This had his name written all over it. I glanced over at him; he looked as calm as ever. Comment 2: 【If you’re a man, play with your chest out! No hiding!】 Rule: All male players must remain in motion during the day. Hiding in the same location for more than thirty minutes will result in elimination. One of the guys cursed under his breath. “Which son of a bitch posted that? What kind of asshole drags all the other guys down with him?” My heart skipped a beat. A comment could actually affect other players. Comment 3: 【I wish I had a see-through item. A god’s-eye view would be sick!】 Rule: Each night, you may choose one person and learn the content of their comment. So, a Seer, like in a game of Mafia. I sighed internally. People with that kind of power never lasted long. Comment 4: 【A true leading lady does it alone. No need for teammates!】 Rule: This player must act alone at all times, except during the discussion phase. A girl, then. Comment 5: 【If I’m playing, no one touches my woman before I die!】 This one was basically a confession. There was only one couple in our class: Asher, our class president, and his girlfriend, Mia. It could only be Asher, trying to protect her. Comment 6: 【Not to be sexist, but I hate teaming up with girls. So much drama!】 Rule: Outside of discussion and voting, this player cannot be alone in the same space with any female player for more than 10 minutes. If this rule is broken, the other female player will die. That familiar knot of tension tightened in my stomach. Another comment targeting female players. My first thought was that some other idiot guy had posted it, but then I reconsidered. This felt… different. It sounded more like a pick-me girl. Comment 7: 【Just kill everyone else, right?】 Rule: This player must kill one person each night. Every face in the room went pale. 4 Son of a bitch. This really was a game of Mafia. We were already set to lose four people to the votes over four days, and now we had a nightly murderer on top of that. Unless this ‘Wolf’ was voted out or had their comment canceled with a card, they might be the only one left standing. I quickly calculated in my head. As soon as we could, we had to find a Cancel Card and get rid of that comment. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn’t even looked at the eighth and final comment. It was the shocked gasps from two classmates beside me that snapped me out of it. Asher and Mia had collapsed to the floor, their faces masks of pure despair. The last comment on the blackboard was especially cruel. Comment 8: 【God, couples who drag the team down are the worst. Can’t they just break up before playing?】 Rule: At the start of the game, all couples must internally vote to eliminate one member. Asher and Mia… one of them had to die. Right now. It was possible? You could post a comment that forced someone else to die? Amidst the heavy silence, a girl named Skylar folded her arms and sneered, “Come on, hurry it up. Don’t waste everyone’s time.” She was the school’s resident bad girl, known for bullying others. Most people steered clear of her. There had been rumors she’d pursued Asher before, and seeing her now, it seemed plausible. Her eyes were filled with nothing but gleeful malice. “Aren’t you two just so in love? Time to prove it.” No one spoke. Mia clung to Asher, her voice choked with sobs. “No, baby, please, you can’t…” Asher held her tight. “I’m so sorry, my love.” Tears streamed down Mia’s face as she desperately tried to stand up first, to take the fall herself. But Asher was well over six feet tall and easily broke her grip. He pushed her away, gently but firmly, and rose to his feet. “Everyone,” he said, his voice steady, “please, look after my Mia. I’m begging you.” As Mia’s cries filled the room, he raised his hand. “I choose to eliminate myself.” Snap. With a faint, sickening crack, Asher’s neck twisted at an impossible angle. The comment he’d made to protect his girlfriend appeared above his head as a bloody halo, then slowly faded away. Mia’s sobs turned into silent, ragged gasps. She somehow found the strength to catch her boyfriend’s falling body with her own small frame, her hands gently closing his lifeless eyes. I sighed. Our president was a true man. He deserved respect. A few other students were quietly crying. “Asher lived a good life. He didn’t go out without a fight.” But there’s always someone with a sick mind. Skylar, for instance, shot a final, bitter remark at Mia. “You’re a curse. Asher was just unlucky to have ever dated you.” And then there was Leo, who chose that moment to “comfort” everyone. “Actually, this was the only optimal solution. The president’s comment contained a logical constraint…” “Because Mia couldn’t be harmed before he died, if she were chosen for elimination, he would have died with her. The proposition had only one unique solution…” “Shut up!” a guy named Rhys snapped. “You goddamn nerd, you’re sick in the head!” Another boy, Quentin, slammed his fist against the doorframe. “Enough with the bullshit. Let’s go explore and find those items!” As if on cue, the speaker crackled. 【The game has begun. All players may now act freely according to their respective rules.】 The lock on the door clicked open. Everyone who could move scrambled out of the suffocating classroom as if fleeing a plague. After one last look at the blackboard, I left too, my mind already racing, analyzing the seven remaining comments. Leo, the calculation freak, was a known quantity with a one-time immunity. The couple-breaker comment was now useless. That left one comment forcing guys to keep moving, one pick-me comment that could kill lone girls, and one lone-wolf girl comment. And somewhere among us, a Wolf who had to kill, and a Seer who could see. There were ten of us left. That meant besides me, there were two other “vanilla” players with no comments. I started running through the personalities of my classmates. With the president and vice president dead, we were down to five boys and five girls. Among the other four girls, Ruby was quiet and introverted; I didn’t know her well. Mia was usually sweet and easygoing, but now she was a wreck, impossible to analyze. That left Skylar and the stunning, mixed-race Lillian. My gut told me one of them was the pick-me, and the other was the lone wolf. Of the five remaining boys, Leo was too clinical for me to even want to understand. Silas was quiet and reserved, but I always felt there was a turbulent current beneath his calm exterior. Rhys, Liam, and Quentin were the more outgoing types. Maybe I could get some useful information by focusing on them during the discussions. Right now, the priority was to scout the area, find items and clues, and figure out how to stay alive. The moment I stepped out of the school building, a chilling wind hit me. The air was thick with the smell of blood and decay, making my stomach churn again. Four days. Besides the game rules, starvation and dehydration might not be fatal, but I knew my hypoglycemia could be a serious problem. If my blood sugar dropped too low, I could just pass out and die. I had to find supplies. Even a few pieces of candy could be the difference between life and death for me over the next four days. This school was completely enclosed. The rulebook I’d seen mentioned a military-style management, so I wasn’t surprised when I couldn’t find a convenience store or supermarket anywhere. My only option was the cafeteria. As I walked, a grim thought crossed my mind. If there was no food or water, this game would truly force us to kill each other. But all my worries vanished the moment I stepped inside. Ten exquisite meals were laid out on the tables. Steak, mashed potatoes, creamy mushroom soup, and two small pastries for each setting. The silverware was ornate, the sense of ceremony a cruel irony in this place. I picked up a steak knife and made a small cut. Pink juices oozed out. Medium rare. The sight of blood and flesh brought back the image of Caden’s mangled body. I turned and threw up again, the bitter taste of bile filling my mouth. In the end, I just wrapped the two pastries in a napkin and stuffed them in my pocket. I searched several storage rooms but found no Item Cards. I was feeling weak and utterly drained. I took the key from one of the janitor’s closets, locked the door from the inside, and unrolled a yoga mat I found to lie down for a while. For the first time, I felt a small sliver of relief. At least the girls didn’t have to be constantly on the move. We could find a place to hide and rest. When I woke up, my hypoglycemia had kicked in as expected. I ate half a pastry, but my appetite was gone. I hid the rest under the yoga mat and headed to the classroom for the first discussion and vote. 5 Within ten minutes, everyone had trickled back into the classroom. 【The discussion will now begin. After the discussion, a vote will be held. No player may abstain from voting twice in a row. Good luck to all players.】 My stomach dropped. Can’t abstain twice in a row. That meant we would be forced to make enemies. Silence hung in the air. Leo was the first to speak. “Is anyone willing to reveal their comment?” He held up his hand. “Mine is the calculation one, with the immunity. I think you all figured that out.” Skylar immediately stood up. “I’m not one to hide. I’m the one who doesn’t like playing with girls.” Of course. The pick-me herself. Judging by the lack of reaction, no one was surprised. “Anyone else?” I stayed silent as a mouse, huddled in my corner, afraid that speaking up would make me a target. Skylar scanned the other girls. “Look at you all, a bunch of whiny, scared little bitches.” Just then, Mia, her face pale, raised a trembling hand. “I didn’t post a comment.” Skylar’s expression soured instantly. “Oh really? You. Didn’t. Post. A. Comment.” She dragged out the words with theatrical sarcasm. “Who’s gonna believe that? You got any proof?” Mia managed a self-deprecating smile. “When my boyfriend was posting his comment, I was holding onto his arm and refused to let go. I never even had a free hand to look at my own phone.” I raised an eyebrow. If Skylar really did have a thing for Asher, those words were a knife straight to the heart. Even in a death game, people can’t resist gossip. Everyone’s eyes drifted subtly towards Skylar. As expected, a flicker of humiliation crossed her face. “Wow, still have the energy to show off your perfect relationship. Impressive.” “I wasn’t…” “Shut up,” Skylar snapped, rolling her eyes. “If you loved him so much, why didn’t you die for him? Don’t you want to join him?” Mia’s face was ashen, but her eyes were firm. “I won’t let my boyfriend’s death be for nothing.” “I might not win, but I’m going to fight to live as long as I can.” Skylar let out a derisive chuckle. “Don’t waste your breath.” A vicious smile spread across her face. “I say we help our dear Mia fulfill her dream. Let’s send her to be reunited with her precious boyfriend!” I couldn’t help but feel contempt for her. While the rest of us were trying to find the Wolf, she was using her “I don’t play with girls” rule to start a catfight, one that could get someone killed. I made a mental note to stay as far away from her as possible. If she ever tried to come after me, I’d bite her damn head off before I went down. My thoughts were interrupted by the sharp crack of a slap. It was Mia. She had suddenly lunged forward and struck Skylar across the face. “You think you’ve won? Skylar, you think I don’t know about you trying to seduce Asher?” “Too bad for you. He never even opened those private photos you sent him!” “Calling yourself ‘one of the guys.’ What kind of ‘guy’ sends videos of themselves in a bra to another man? Hahaha!” “He’s dead, but he died for me. You never had a chance, Skylar. You couldn’t even be his side piece!” “Fuck you!” Skylar screamed, and the two of them started brawling. “You fucking bitch, you little fox! I’ll kill you sooner or later!” “You just wait, I’ll drown you in a pig cage…” A few of the guys, unable to watch any longer, stepped in to pull them apart. “Stop it! We only have five minutes left to vote…” Leo pushed his glasses up his nose. “If Mia is truly a vanilla player, voting for her is meaningless. I have a candidate in mind.” Lillian spoke up suddenly, and all heads turned to her. She sat perched on a desk, her blonde hair and blue eyes standing out, her light, poofy dress a stark contrast to the grim surroundings. “I saw it. I saw who posted the comment that killed Asher.” “What did you say?” everyone asked, stunned. The next second, Liam, who was standing nearby, dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, it was me!” he cried, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Asher was my brother, I’m so sorry…” “I admit I was jealous of him and Mia… but I never wanted him to die! Mia, I’m so sorry…” Hearing this, Skylar’s face twisted into an even uglier sneer. Lillian just rolled her eyes. “An eye for an eye. It’s only fair.” Mia was breathing heavily, staring at Liam with a blank expression. After a long moment, she raised her hand. “I vote for Liam.” Liam, still kneeling, trembled. He looked at Lillian and Mia with a last shred of hope. “I can help you, I can protect you…” But Lillian just scoffed. “I don’t need any teammates.” One by one, the others pointed at Liam. His eyes went vacant as he muttered, “I’m sorry.” I followed the majority and voted for him too. Only Skylar, her jaw tight, pointed stubbornly at Mia. The countdown ended. Liam’s pupils dilated abruptly. Thin trickles of blood began to seep from his eyes and nostrils. He fell backward and didn’t move again. The comment about breaking up couples appeared, then vanished. This time, everyone was much calmer. The voting was over, and the click of the unlocking door echoed through the room. People began to file out. I let out a slow breath. Tonight, the owner of the ‘kill everyone’ comment would strike. I took a roundabout path, making sure no one was following me, before slipping back into the equipment room and locking the door. I had a pretty good idea who tonight’s victim would be. Either Skylar, who had made herself a public enemy, or… The lone wolf, Lillian. Her last sentence had given her away. I don’t need any teammates. Combined with the fact that she was a girl, I was almost certain she was the ‘lone leading lady.’ She was forced to be alone, making her the easiest target. If I were the Wolf, I’d go after Lillian tonight as a warm-up. I lay on the yoga mat, clutching a small dumbbell, staying alert for half the night before exhaustion finally took over.

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During the earthquake, I shielded my son with my body. My husband arrived but only had time to save our son. By the time rescuers reached me, my limbs were irreparably crushed, leaving me dependent on their care. Years later, my son handed me a document to sever our ties. “No one will marry me with you as a burden,” he said coldly. My husband added, “You saved him—will you let your condition ruin his life?” Heartbroken, I signed and left alone. Later, while scavenging in my wheelchair, I saw them—my husband, son, and his first love—a happy family. I overheard the truth: my husband had deliberately not saved me to be with her. My son chirped, “Good thing we got rid of Mom so Aunt Lily could be my new mom.” I died from the betrayal, but when I opened my eyes, I was back under the rubble with my son. 1 “Mom, where are you going? Come back and protect me!” My son, pinned beneath the debris, watched in wide-eyed horror as I started to crawl away on my own. I didn’t look back. I just kept crawling. In my last life, I had used my body as a shield for him, creating a small pocket of survival. My reward was being cast out like trash. The image of him fawning over Lily, his arm wrapped around hers, was burned into my mind. My own son, who could look at me with such venom as he forced me to sign away my rights as his mother, could smile so sweetly at another woman. What was the point of saving a son like that? I glanced back one last time at his desperate, helpless face, then turned and scrambled towards a makeshift supply point set up by other survivors. “Please, help!” I cried, my face a mask of panic. “Save my son!” As they were disinfecting my wounds with alcohol, a familiar figure stumbled toward the wreckage. I froze. Mark. My husband. He raced toward the spot where our son was trapped. Ignoring the gash on his own arm, he frantically pulled the boy free. Our son, Caleb, sobbed hysterically in his arms. Mark glanced at the unstable pile of rubble I had just escaped from. He hesitated for only a second, then kicked out the last, splintered support beam holding up a massive concrete slab. My breath caught in my throat. So, in my past life, the slab collapsing after Caleb was saved… it wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate. I finally understood the deep-seated resentment they both held for me. I was supposed to have died under that rubble. By some fluke, I had only lost my limbs and survived. And I, like a fool, had believed Mark simply didn’t have time to save me. I had even comforted him, told him I didn’t blame him… It felt like a hand was squeezing my throat, cutting off my air. I watched as Mark kicked out the last support, then clutched our son and ran in the opposite direction. I knew where he was going. That was where Lily was buried. In the distance, a news van pulled up, and reporters with cameras started running our way. I quickly squeezed out a few tears and collapsed to the ground with a dramatic wail. 2 When Mark emerged with Lily, his rescue uniform was torn to shreds. It was obvious the situation where she had been trapped was far more dangerous. I saw them from a distance and let out a cold, bitter laugh. In my last life, Mark had defied official orders and rushed to the disaster site first. I thought he was coming for me and our son. Now I knew the truth. He came because his precious first love was buried here. Caleb, though he only came up to Lily’s waist, clutched at her clothes, trying his best to support her. Mark held Lily close, his voice soft and gentle. “It’s okay. The main rescue team is almost here. As soon as they arrive, I’ll have them take you to the best hospital nearby.” A bitter sting filled my eyes. Is this how he had cared for Lily in my past life, while I was left for dead under the rubble? “Ma’am, could you please repeat that? Who was the rescuer in the uniform who was just here?” a reporter asked, microphone extended. My eyes were red from crying. I stood before the camera and turned to look at the approaching trio. “That’s my husband,” I sobbed. “And the woman he ran off to save… is his first love.” “Sarah?” At the sound of my voice, Mark’s head snapped up. He looked from me to the collapsed rubble where Caleb and I had been, his face a mask of disbelief. “You… how are you…” “How am I still alive? Is that what you want to ask?” I cried, gasping for breath. “Reporters, do you see that broken beam over there? My husband kicked it out! After he pulled our son out, he destroyed the only thing holding up the slab. He never intended for me to get out of there alive!” I was sobbing so hard a reporter had to steady me. “Ma’am, please calm down. Take a breath and tell us what happened.” I choked back a sob. “I thought he just didn’t have time to save me! If there hadn’t been another small opening on the other side, I would have been crushed to death by him! I thought he disobeyed orders and rushed here for us, for his family. But it was for her! Captain Miller, if you wanted to be with your first love, you could have just told me! Why did you have to try and kill me?” My words sent the reporters into a frenzy. Camera flashes exploded in our faces. Mark’s first instinct was to shield Lily’s eyes from the blinding light. Then he turned to me, his brow furrowed in anger. “Sarah! What the hell are you talking about? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to Lily’s reputation?” I pointed a trembling finger at him. “You see? You see that? His first instinct is to protect her!” The crowd of survivors and onlookers erupted. “Look at his uniform, he’s a first responder! He ignored orders, and when he got here, he saved his old flame instead of his own wife?” “Lily? That name sounds familiar. Isn’t she some kind of minor internet celebrity?” “I found her! Yeah, she’s an influencer! And there’s some drama… let’s see… caught going into a hotel with a male fan late at night, confronted by his wife during a live stream…” Someone threw a rotten egg, splattering across Lily’s perfectly made-up face. “Slut! How many married men have you slept with?” “And you!” another person yelled at Mark. “You treat this trash like a treasure and leave your own wife to die? Scum!” “Reporters! Get a close-up! She wants to be famous, right? Let’s give her some attention!” Lily shrieked and buried her face in Mark’s chest. “It’s not true! I didn’t do it!” The cameras swarmed them. In this situation, the smart thing for Mark to do, especially in his uniform, would have been to step away. But after a moment’s hesitation, he pulled Lily behind him, shielding her with his body as the cameras captured his every move. He glared at me. “Sarah, tell them the truth, now! Are you trying to ruin an innocent person’s life?” Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed for the cameras. “An innocent person? You call the woman you abandoned me to save innocent?” “That’s right! You left your wife, and you think you’re in the right?” a bystander shouted. “Get them! Beat the scumbag and the homewrecker!” “Don’t you dare touch my daddy!” Caleb launched himself forward, standing in front of Mark. His small body radiated a surprising amount of force. “My daddy and Aunt Lily are innocent! Don’t let my mommy fool you! She’s a liar!” He pointed at me. “She’s not the poor victim you think she is! Just a little while ago, she left me under the rubble all by myself and crawled out to save her own skin. I was crying so loud, and she didn’t even look back! If my daddy hadn’t come and saved me, I’d be dead right now!” The crowd fell silent. 3 Mark seized the opportunity. “That’s right. When I arrived, my wife was already gone from the site. I kicked that beam to eliminate a potential hazard, not to harm her like she claims!” His eyes reddened, and the sight of a strong man looking so wronged was enough to sway some people. “We’re husband and wife. Caleb is our son. If she had still been in there, don’t you think my own son would have told me? It was only because I confirmed she was safe that I took action.” “As for saving Ms. Hayes,” he continued, gesturing to Lily, “it was because I couldn’t find my wife, and someone else needed help. But I never imagined… Sarah, I never imagined you would slander me like this.” The crowd’s eyes widened, and their suspicious gazes turned on me. One of the survivors nodded. “That’s right. When she came running over here, her son wasn’t with her. He must not have been rescued yet.” “So you’re a mother who abandoned her own child?” “If you were still under there, your son would have told his dad. He must have said you were gone.” Now, the cameras were all pointed at me. “We almost fell for it! Slandering a first responder! How could you do that to your own husband and child?” “You ditch your son and then get mad when your husband saves someone else? You’re unbelievable!” Rotten vegetables rained down on me. Someone threw a bucket of dirty water. The flashing lights hurt my eyes, and real tears began to fall. In my past life, when I was still under the rubble, my son hadn’t said a word. And the beam still broke. But that was a memory from another life. No one would believe me if I told them. So instead, I collapsed to the ground with a cry of pain. “Oh my god! Look at her back! It’s covered in blood!” “Quick, get some bandages!” The woman who had given me alcohol earlier rushed to my side. My eyes were red as I looked into the cameras. “I never thought… I never thought that running out to find help for my son, without even tending to my own injuries, would be twisted into me abandoning him,” I cried out. “If I really wanted to leave him, why would I have shielded him with my own body… Ah!” The woman poured alcohol on my back, and I screamed in agony. She comforted me while telling the reporters, “It’s true! When she came to us, all she said was ‘save my son.’ If I hadn’t forced her to sit down and get treated, she would have bled out!” The alcohol stung my wounds. Every movement sent a fresh wave of excruciating pain through me. The accusations from the crowd died down. Everyone watched as the wounded mother twitched in agony, their faces filled with pity. Caleb looked at my back, a flicker of remorse in his eyes, before he turned away and muttered, “Serves you right. I never asked you to protect me.” His voice was quiet, but someone heard him. “What did you just say, you little brat?” “See? I told you! A heartless father and a heartless son! Get them! Don’t let them get away! We have to expose these scumbags!” “That’s right! Post it online so everyone knows what they’re really like!” “What are you doing? You can’t do this!” Mark instinctively protected Lily, but that only enraged the crowd further. “He’s still protecting the other woman! Get them! Don’t let any of them go, big or small!” I was helped to the side, just outside the circle of chaos, and watched them through red-rimmed eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips. I wasn’t someone who couldn’t handle pain. In my past life, I hadn’t made a sound when all four of my limbs were being crushed. Mark, oh Mark, I thought. How do you like my acting? Just as the three of them were being shoved and pushed around, a powerful voice roared, “Stop!” I turned my head quickly. A man in a sharp suit was getting out of a black sedan nearby. A helicopter was descending, and rescue personnel were rappelling to the ground. “What is all this commotion?” The middle-aged man in the suit stood in front of Mark, facing the crowd, but his eyes were fixed on me. “Even if he has done something wrong, it should be handled by the law. Since when can you lynch someone just because another person shed a few tears?” I clenched my fists. It was Mark’s mentor, the powerful backer of his family—Arthur Tang. 4 “Sir, you don’t understand. This man tried to kill his own wife, and he…” “I will personally investigate this matter,” Arthur interrupted. “I promise you will all get a satisfactory answer.” He cut through the crowd. “I’m taking him in for questioning now. Please, trust me.” With that, he escorted Mark, Caleb, and Lily away from the volatile scene. Before getting in the car, Lily looked back at me from the safety of Mark’s arms. Her lips were curved in a triumphant, smug smile. I spent a few days in the hospital. As soon as I was discharged, I received an invitation from Arthur Tang. “Sarah, let’s let this whole thing go,” he said, pushing a stack of cash across the table. “I know you’re angry, and I’ve already disciplined Mark. You’ve been married for years. It’s not worth blowing up over something so small. I’ve looked into it. It was all a misunderstanding.” I looked at the twenty thousand dollars and sneered. Mark was one of his protégés, someone he was grooming for a position by his side. This rescue team stint was just a way to pad Mark’s resume, to give it some shine. But I wasn’t going to let that happen. “I will not let Mark get away with this,” I said, pushing the money back. “I know exactly what kind of man he is, Mr. Tang. I will never let a person like that succeed.” Arthur’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. “Ms. Jones, don’t push your luck. You’re an orphan. Be careful you don’t end up with nothing. That job you have… you worked very hard to get it, didn’t you?” My brow furrowed. He smirked, stood up, paid the bill, and left. My heart sank. As I suspected, Mark would be cleared of all wrongdoing, and then he would be promoted, just like in my previous life. I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Hello, Grandpa Lou? You once told me I could come to you if I ever needed help. Does that offer still stand?” 5 At Mark’s promotion celebration, it was Lily who stood by his side. I was just passing by when I saw the press event and the promotional posters. I stopped in my tracks. Reporters with cameras swarmed around Mark and Lily, who was holding Caleb’s hand. Lily, dressed in an elegant designer outfit, waved gracefully at the cameras. “We were just doing what anyone would have done,” she said modestly. I heard someone nearby sigh. “Now this is the kind of role model we should be celebrating! So much better than all that celebrity gossip.” “Exactly! Mr. Miller saved so many people in the disaster zone, and his wife, Mrs. Miller, worked tirelessly behind the scenes for three whole months!” “And to think someone tried to ruin their reputation! What kind of person does that? They must be either stupid or evil. Probably a foreign agent!” I froze. “Mrs. Miller worked behind the scenes for three months?” “Yeah! Don’t you watch the news?” “But… I never saw her there.” After I recovered from my injuries, I had returned to the disaster zone and served as the temporary head of the logistics department. I was constantly moving between the front lines and the rear, ensuring that rescuers and victims got the supplies they needed immediately. In those three months, I hadn’t seen Lily, or even Mark, at the front. “You don’t know? You obviously don’t care about the relief efforts. Mrs. Miller was the temporary head of the logistics department!” I was stunned. “But… I was the temporary head of logistics…” “Wait a minute… aren’t you the woman from the news? The one who tried to destroy their reputations?” someone pointed at me. My brow furrowed. I understood immediately. This was Arthur Tang’s doing. Slandering those who didn’t cooperate with him was his signature move. “It’s her!” another person shouted. “The news said she was the one who pretended to be Mrs. Miller and orchestrated the online harassment campaign against them!” “You! You have the nerve to show your face? We were wondering where you’d gone! How dare you slander a hero! You must have a death wish!”

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