Category: English

After the girl he loved fell to her death, my stepbrother hated me for ten years. Even after I used the most despicable means to make him completely mine. He never truly forgave me. Not until I fled the country in a fit of pique, only to get caught in a riot. And still, without a moment’s hesitation, my brother shielded me. He took a bullet and died. The last words he ever spoke, cradled in my arms, were: “I’m the one who spoiled you.” “I truly regret… ever becoming your brother.” Everyone said I was a monster. That I had ruined him—my brother, who had been so decent, so full of integrity his entire life. So I knelt on the long stone steps of a temple for fifty years. Begging for a chance to do it all over again. This time, I would let him have his perfect life. All I ask is that he lives a life of peace and happiness. 1 “Stella, look at this. Just look at the things you’ve written. Doesn’t it make you sick?” “How could you… feel this way about your own brother?” That voice. A voice I’d ached to hear for a lifetime. My eyes fluttered open. I saw Asher holding my journal, his face flushed crimson with fury. Inside that journal, I had poured out all of my— Desire. For him. But in that moment, I felt none of the shame of being exposed. Instead, a sob of pure relief broke from my lips. I was really back. I had been reborn into the moment of my first real fight with Asher, the day he discovered my forbidden feelings for him. Seeing him there, so vibrant and alive, sent a tremor through my entire body. Thank God. He’s alive. Asher must have noticed something was wrong. The fire in his eyes died down, replaced by a flicker of confusion. He pointed to the floor. “Take all of this… and burn it.” In my past life, those words had sent me into a hysterical frenzy. I had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. The shock on Asher’s face, the way he’d fled from me… that was the beginning of the distance that grew between us. And for me, that desperate, defiant kiss shattered the last of my restraints. It made me hate her—Lila Vance, the girl who stole my brother’s heart—even more. It was the catalyst for every tragedy that followed. So this time, I scrubbed the tears from my face with the back of my hand. I gathered the box filled with my journals. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll burn them.” 2 Those journals held a decade of my life with Asher. My mother and his were best friends, inseparable. But my mom had a weakness for love, and she fell for the wrong man—a monster who used his fists to speak. She died in a hospital bed when I was five. My father, a lifelong alcoholic, stumbled into a ditch and died on his way to turn himself in. Asher’s mom, my Aunt Clara, took me in. She passed away from cancer when Asher and I were just starting middle school. And just like that, in the sprawling, empty mansion, it was just us, and a handful of staff who were rarely seen. Asher was only a few months older than me, but it felt like a lifetime. I was a walking disaster, and he was the stoic little adult who followed behind me, cleaning up my messes. Aunt Clara was always working. The housekeepers and nannies had days off. When I had a stomach flu, Asher stayed up with me all night, holding my hand while the IV dripped into my arm. When I got into fights at school, he was the one who stood up for me. When thunderstorms terrified me, he would drag his pillow and blanket into my room and build a fort with me on my bed. Even after Lila fell, a tragedy he blamed entirely on me. Even when he hated me to his very core. When the chaos of the riot erupted around us, he still threw himself in front of me without a second thought. My brother was perfect in every way. Except for one thing. His love for me was the love of family. My love for him was a crime of the heart. In our last life, when our housekeeper, Maria, heard the news of Asher’s death, she collapsed, weeping. Our driver, Sam, had pointed a trembling finger at my face. “You’re a curse, Stella! A goddamn black hole. You won’t be happy until you’ve destroyed everyone around you, will you?” I remembered Asher’s final words. “I’m the one who spoiled you.” “I truly regret… ever becoming your brother.” He regretted it. And so did I. There was a monastery, north of the city, that was said to work miracles. I went there to pray that in the next life, Asher would never have to meet me. But my sins were too great. The abbot refused to see me. So I knelt. Year after year. The worn stone steps are stained with my blood, each mark a prayer from a bowed head. My hair turned from black to silver. Finally, when I was frail and close to death, the abbot granted me an audience. He said, “What has happened cannot be undone. But a new beginning may yet be possible.” “You are the calamity in his fate. If you do not resolve it, your efforts will be in vain.” He pressed a small, silk pouch into my wrinkled hand. “This will guide you, when the time for rebirth comes.” And when I woke up, the pouch was still clutched in my hand, proof that it wasn’t all a dream. This life, I won’t make the same mistakes. I will pay any price, as long as my brother can live in peace. 3 The next morning, on the way to school, neither of us mentioned what had happened. The silence in the car was thick enough to choke on. It wasn’t until we pulled up to the school that Asher finally broke it. “You need to apologize to Lila today for what you did a few days ago.” His tone was clipped, formal. He was clearly expecting a fight. But I just gave a small, quiet nod. “Okay.” Asher shot me a look of surprise. But in the end, he didn’t say another word. During lunch, I went to find Lila, just as I’d promised. It took me a while, but I finally found her. She was with Asher. The afternoon sun cast a warm, hazy glow over the bustling quad. Lila was laughing, playfully tapping her fist against Asher’s chest. The next second, she saw me. The laughter died on her lips. She flinched and scurried behind Asher, clutching the bandage on her hand as if I’d just appeared with a knife. Asher instinctively moved to shield her. “What are you doing here?” His words were laced with a cool distance. He’d already forgotten he was the one who sent me. I couldn’t really blame him for being on edge. I was, after all, a monster. My possessiveness over Asher was a suffocating, all-consuming thing. He was handsome, kind, and popular. There was never a shortage of girls interested in him. And I had driven every single one of them away. I had always interpreted Asher’s silent permission as something more, a sign that deep down, he felt the same way. That he wanted me. It was the same delusion that led me, in my past life, to drug his drink. To force him across a line that should never be crossed. He had fought against my touch, but even through his broken, ragged breaths, I convinced myself I heard pleasure. I ignored the fact that it was nothing more than an involuntary, physical reaction. But Lila was different. She was special to him. Even ten years after her death, Asher had never forgiven me. I forced down the acid bile of jealousy rising in my throat and took a deep breath. I walked over and gave Lila a deep, formal bow. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you the other day, and I never should have humiliated you in front of everyone. It was cruel and unacceptable.” I looked up, my voice trembling slightly. “Can you… can you forgive me?” Lila glanced nervously at Asher. When he remained silent, she finally answered. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I forgive you.” I straightened up, and my eyes met Asher’s. They were swirling with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. 4 In my past life, there was another reason I despised Lila. I’d seen her, more than once, getting a little too close to Ethan Carter, the school’s resident bad boy. Ethan was Asher’s sworn enemy. He was a malicious jerk who lived to make my brother’s life miserable. I was convinced Lila was a plant, sent by Ethan to mess with Asher’s head. That’s why I went after her so relentlessly. This time around, whatever the truth was, I had to find out. I needed to get the two people who were supposed to be together back on track. So, I started following Lila around, telling her how guilty I felt, how much I wanted to be her friend. She was wary at first. But when she saw I was being genuine, she slowly let her guard down. I started probing, trying to be subtle. “So… what do you think of my brother?” A blush crept up her neck. “Asher… he’s helped me so much. And he’s amazing with animals. He’s always feeding the stray cats around campus, he even raised money to get them all spayed and neutered.” She looked down, a soft smile on her face. “I think he’s a really kind person.” Of course. They were perfect for each other. And Lila really was a great person. She didn’t come from money, but she was smart and driven, attending our expensive private school on a full scholarship. The classic beautiful, resilient girl from the wrong side of the tracks. My brother was handsome, top of our class, and had a massive trust fund left to him by his mother. Anyone could see they were a perfect match. Even knowing this, my stomach churned with a bitter, acidic jealousy. That night, for the first time in what felt like forever, Asher knocked on my bedroom door. He didn’t come in. The last time he’d burst into my room without asking was when he’d found my journals. I spoke first, to put him at ease. “I’m just looking at college applications. There’s nothing else in here…” Ever since I’d been reborn, I could feel Asher pulling away, creating a careful distance between us. Even without the kiss, he couldn’t stomach the idea of the little sister he raised being in love with him. And even without the kiss, I couldn’t let him go. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Why haven’t you been coming home with me lately?” I was surprised. I didn’t think he’d even noticed. Because I have to learn how to live without you. The thought was a silent scream in my mind. Even now, I was looking at schools as far away from him as possible. He and Lila were both brilliant; they’d end up at the same Ivy League school, I was sure of it. Me? I just needed to be as far away as I could get. I fabricated a quick excuse. “Oh, Lila and I have been getting along really well. We decided to walk home together so we can hang out more.” The lie felt flimsy even to my own ears. Asher’s gaze was intense, drilling into me until my skin prickled. I lifted my chin defiantly. “Are we getting in your way?” He frowned and flicked me on the forehead. “What are you talking about? It’s not like that.” He ran a hand through his hair, a flash of frustration in his eyes. “Forget it. It’s… probably a good thing for you to make more friends.” 5 A few days later, I was walking home with Lila as planned. She had started to open up to me, and I felt I was getting closer to understanding the real reason she had died in our past life. Everyone thought I pushed her. Even Asher. After all, I had a history. But I didn’t. I never laid a finger on her. She had just… jumped. Sobbing. I wondered if something terrible was happening at home, something that would drive her to such desperation. “Lila,” I said, my voice earnest. “If anything is wrong, you have to tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you. I promise.” She froze, and then her eyes welled up with tears. She knew. Something was definitely wrong. She opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, a group of guys materialized from a side alley. They were trouble. They were carrying metal rods, the legs of disassembled school desks. I’d taken some self-defense classes when I was younger, and I managed to hold my own for a minute. But Lila wasn’t so lucky. I saw a pipe swinging towards her head. I didn’t think. I just moved. I shoved her out of the way and took the blow myself. The world exploded into blackness. When I came to, a searing pain shot from the back of my head down my spine. I was covered in mud, but the scene in front of me was so horrifying I barely registered my own state. Lila was lying on the ground next to me, naked. “Lila? Hey, Lila, what happened?” My voice was a raw, trembling whisper. I scrambled for my phone, my only thought to call Asher. But the screen was shattered, dead. Suddenly, a blinding light hit my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, recoiling. The sound of police sirens and Asher’s enraged voice blended into a chaotic roar. A powerful force shoved me backwards, my head cracking against a concrete step. “Stella! I actually thought you’d changed! Were you just waiting for the perfect moment to pull something like this?” Asher’s eyes were bloodshot, blazing with a fury I’d never seen before. It took me a second to understand. He thought I did this. “Ash, no… it wasn’t me.” He scooped Lila into his arms, wrapping his jacket around her. “You’re holding a phone, don’t tell me it wasn’t you! Delete those pictures right now. We’ll deal with this when we get home.” I watched, stunned, as he walked away, his back a rigid line of condemnation. Tears blurred my vision. “It really… wasn’t me…” My strength gave out, every muscle in my body turning to water. The world faded to black once again. 6 I dreamed of the last life, of another time Asher had been this furious with me. It was after Lila’s fall, when the police were questioning me. Asher slapped me. The first and only time. The sound of it echoed in the sterile interrogation room. “How could you do something like this?” “I am so… disappointed in you.” “I wish you were never my sister.” His eyes held a sorrow so deep it had become numb, a terrifying calm. I couldn’t blame him. On the rooftop that day, it had just been me and Lila. No one would believe that a brilliant student with a bright future would just randomly jump off a building. But even though Asher believed the worst of me, he still hired the best lawyers. There were no cameras on the roof. No direct evidence that I had pushed her. My fingerprints weren’t on her. But the possibility that I had coerced her, bullied her into jumping, remained. In the end, her death was ruled an accident. Asher paid a huge settlement to Lila’s mother. But she still showed up at school every day, screaming my name, calling me a murderer. So, Asher pulled us both out of school. I really did ruin his life. If it hadn’t been for me, what a brilliant future he would have had. It didn’t matter what the world thought. For Asher, the simple, devastating truth was that his sister had killed the girl he loved. From that day forward, nothing was ever the same. I woke with a gasp, the dream clinging to me like a shroud. I was in my own bedroom. Asher was asleep in the chair beside my bed. He looked exhausted, with dark, bruised circles under his eyes. As my eyes fluttered open, his shot open too, a flicker of light returning to their depths. And then he was holding me, his arms wrapped around me in a crushing embrace. 7 It turned out Lila had woken up before me. She told them everything. That I had been knocked out trying to save her. That the group of guys had taken pictures of her and run off. Asher held me, his body trembling uncontrollably. He kept murmuring the same words over and over again. “I’m sorry, Stella. I’m so sorry.” “It was my fault. I misjudged you.” “I didn’t protect you, and then I accused you without even listening. You should hit me, you should scream at me…” His shaking was so violent, so palpable, that a hot wave of tears started to burn my own eyes. All the fear and hurt from the past few days came pouring out. I buried my face in his shirt, my sobs and tears soaking the fabric. “No, Ash! It’s all my fault!” “If I hadn’t been such a monster before, you wouldn’t have had a reason not to trust me!” I shook my head wildly, desperate for him to believe me. “I was wrong, I was so wrong. I’ll never cause trouble for you again, I swear!” “I won’t… I won’t think about you that way anymore. I just want to be your sister. Forever.” I felt his body stiffen for a split second. Then, his hand began to gently pat my back. We stayed like that for a long, long time. It felt as if the chasm that had opened between us might finally be closing. Asher eventually pulled away and brought over a bowl of soup from my bedside table. “Here. Eat something.” He gently tied my hair back and draped a robe over my shoulders. “I’m going to go out and get you those cream puffs you love, from the bakery downtown. To make it up to you.” He paused at the door, his expression serious. “When I get back, there’s something important I need to tell you.” I watched him go, a strange feeling settling over me. Something about him had shifted. It was as if he’d finally made up his mind about something monumental. But I waited for a long time, and he didn’t come back. Instead, a text message from Lila lit up my phone. [Stella, please, I’m begging you. Meet me on the school rooftop.] [You have to come alone.] [Please…]

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I returned to the family estate in a faded t-shirt and worn-out jeans. Inside the grand foyer, my long-lost biological parents, the Ashfords, stood waiting. Beside them was Chloe, the daughter they had raised, the girl who had lived my life. And I could hear the thought in her head, as clear as a whisper in my ear. She knows Mom and Dad’s foundation donates millions to rural poverty programs. And yet she shows up dressed like that to squeeze out every last drop of sympathy. Should I say something? The reunion, which should have been a scene of tearful redemption, curdled. The air grew thick with a strange tension. My mother, who had been clutching my hand, let it go. Her touch had been warm, but now her fingers felt like ice. I was carsick from the long drive, and a wave of nausea forced me to bend over, dry-heaving. Chloe shook her head, a mask of gentle concern on her face. Her thoughts, however, were venomous. Oh god, she’s pregnant. Total train wreck. Probably knocked up by some townie back wherever she came from. My parents’ gazes snapped to me, instantly transformed. The warmth was gone, replaced by a cold, appraising disgust, as if I were something unclean they’d accidentally tracked into their pristine home. Though they allowed me to stay, it wasn’t in one of the sun-drenched guest suites. I was given a room in the staff quarters, next to the housekeeper. My meals were leftovers from the kitchen, eaten alone. But I refused to be broken. I threw myself into my studies with a ferocity I hadn’t known I possessed, clinging to the hope that my achievements might chip away at their stone-cold disapproval. I excelled, consistently scoring at the top of my class in every practice exam. Then, Chloe’s thoughts sliced through the quiet of an otherwise peaceful evening. Wow, she’s actually smart. I’ll give her that. But she’s ruthless. The moment she gets a foothold in the company, she’ll sell our trade secrets to the competition. Dad’s entire empire will crumble. We’ll lose everything, end up on the street. That was the final blow. My parents threw me out. The next day, I was killed in a hit-and-run, my body broken on the pavement. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day I first returned to the Ashford estate. And this time, I could hear her thoughts, too. 1 The sedan glided up the long, winding driveway toward the sprawling mansion. My biological parents, the Ashfords, were already waiting by the grand entrance. Chloe stood beside them, perched on the balls of her feet, peering into the distance. The moment the car stopped, my mother rushed forward and pulled me into a hug, her voice thick with emotion. “Our daughter. We finally found you. You must have had such a hard life.” My father stood by, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. It was in that exact moment that Chloe’s voice echoed in my mind. Her foster family isn’t even poor. I checked. But she shows up in rags to play the victim. God, it’s so manipulative. Should I tell them? My mother’s embrace stiffened. She pulled back slightly, her eyes scanning my outfit. A washed-out t-shirt and the plainest pair of jeans imaginable. My father’s brow furrowed. He asked, his voice laced with suspicion, “Your foster mother… she didn’t buy you any new clothes for this?” I met their probing, condescending gazes without flinching. “This is the newest outfit I own.” It was the truth. It was the most presentable thing I had. My foster mother was a farmer, scraping by on exhausted land. Sixteen years ago, she’d found me abandoned by the side of a road. Her own health was poor, and our life had always been a tightrope walk over a chasm of debt. But the Ashfords, in their magnificent wealth, were arrogant. They couldn’t be bothered to investigate the reality of the life I’d been forced to live. Returning to this family, in this life as in the last, was never about finding love. To be blunt, I was here for the money. For a better education. For the funds to save the woman who had actually raised me, the only mother I had ever known… My father was still processing my answer when Chloe’s inner monologue started up again. Ugh, I did a full background check. Her foster parents were skilled laborers with a steady income, a house, a car. They supposedly doted on her. But people from that background have no class, no vision. She’s their real daughter; they would have given her everything anyway. This whole poverty act is just so… extra. I looked up just in time to see the displeasure hardening in my parents’ eyes. A chill crept over me. Of course. This is how it happened before. In my last life, I couldn’t hear Chloe’s thoughts. I had no idea why the parents who had been weeping for their lost child one second could turn on me the next. I lowered my gaze, hiding the hatred that burned there. My mother looked me up and down, her nose wrinkling slightly. “That’s enough. We don’t have room for manipulative people in this house.” “Dressing like that,” my father added with a cold scoff, “are you trying to embarrass us?” He turned to walk away, dismissing me completely. My hands clenched into fists. “Mom, Dad, I don’t know what you think you know, but I swear I’m not…” Chloe immediately cut me off, her voice a syrupy performance of kindness. She took my hand. “Claire, let’s get you inside. It’s windy out here, and Mother’s health is so delicate.” My parents beamed at Chloe, their faces softening with pride for their thoughtful, caring daughter. I followed them into the cavernous great hall, dragging a single duffel bag behind me. It was a hand-me-down, and the zipper had broken on the way here, so I’d pinned it shut. I could hear the maids whispering behind their hands, stifling their laughter. “So pathetic. Who doesn’t own a real suitcase in this day and age? She has to be faking it.” “Obviously. It’s all an act to make Mr. and Mrs. Ashford feel guiltier.” I said nothing. Just as my father turned, his mouth open to deliver another reprimand, I let my knees buckle and pitched forward. I have hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar. In my past life, I was always prepared, a few pieces of hard candy tucked in my pocket for emergencies. This time, I had deliberately skipped breakfast. I had no candy. The mansion erupted into chaos. “Oh my god, she fainted!” My father stood back, his arms crossed, convinced it was another performance. My mother, however, strode over and nudged me with the toe of her expensive shoe. “Get up. Stop this ridiculous act right now, or I’ll—” Her words died in her throat. When I fell, my forehead had struck the corner of the marble entryway table. Blood was now trickling down my temple. A thin line of white foam appeared at the corner of my mouth. This was no act. This was real. As my consciousness faded to black, the last thing I saw was the look of pure panic on my parents’ faces as they finally rushed toward me. 2 The family doctor was summoned. After a brief examination, he delivered his verdict. “She’s suffering from chronic malnutrition and exhaustion. Her body is completely depleted. It’s resulted in a severe case of hypoglycemia.” The doctor’s gaze was heavy with pity as he looked at me, then back at my parents. “Her physical condition is… alarming. It’s as if she hasn’t had a proper, full meal in a very long time.” The raw, undeniable truth of my physical state was the best evidence I could have offered. The color drained from my parents’ faces. They instinctively glanced at Chloe, a silent plea for an explanation, for the real story they’d been fed. Chloe’s eyes darted away for a fraction of a second. Then, her thoughts rang out again. Are you kidding me? Her foster mom loved her, gave her everything she ever asked for. How could she have possibly starved? Oh. I get it. She was dieting. Probably has an eating disorder. My parents’ brows furrowed again, a new suspicion taking root. But the doctor’s words had planted a seed of doubt. The foundation of Chloe’s narrative was cracking. I pushed myself up, letting a tear slip down my cheek as I spoke, my voice trembling. “Mom… Dad… We’re a family now. I want you to know the real me.” With that, I pulled up a news story on my phone. It was a national news feature from several years ago about poverty in rural Appalachia. And there, on the screen, was my foster mother, clutching a younger version of me to her chest, her face etched with worry and hardship. What more needed to be said? They finally understood. My life had been hard. Chloe shot me a look of pure hatred. My father’s tightly clenched jaw finally relaxed, his eyes filling with a shame that was almost painful to watch. “Claire… I’m so sorry. I misjudged you.” My mother’s eyes welled with tears. She reached for my hand, then hesitated and pulled back, not out of disgust this time, but as if she feared I would reject her touch. Chloe was panicking. Her face, however, was a perfect portrait of concern. “Claire, I’m so glad you’re okay. You’re home now. No one can ever hurt you again.” But her inner voice, sharp and clear, betrayed her. Damn it! She’s so calculating. Of all the thousands of news reports out there, she just happened to have that one ready? This had to be planned! My mother’s eyelashes fluttered. This time, she didn’t lash out. She was caught, suspended between her faith in the daughter she raised and the evidence before her eyes. My father, his face a mask of composure, began discussing a nutrition plan with the doctor. I kept my eyes downcast, hiding the icy satisfaction that was blooming in my chest. It was just as I’d predicted. I couldn’t dismantle sixteen years of affection for Chloe in a single day. But trust is a fragile thing. And the first crack had appeared. Your payback, Chloe, I thought, has just begun. After lunch, my parents decided to take me shopping. It was clear my current wardrobe was an embarrassment to the Ashford name. Just as before, the four of us climbed into the spacious luxury SUV. We had barely pulled out of the driveway when a cold sweat broke out across my skin and my stomach began to churn violently. My motion sickness was severe. And right on cue, Chloe’s thoughts began to broadcast. Oh god, here we go again. She’s pregnant. It’s morning sickness. That family doctor is a quack. He didn’t use any real equipment. She’s probably not far enough along for it to show up on a simple test. My parents’ heads whipped around to stare at me. Here it is, I thought, a tremor of adrenaline shooting through me. This was the accusation that had sealed my fate last time, the one that had convinced the Ashfords I was damaged goods. I steadied my breathing, forcing the words out. “Is there any Dramamine? My motion sickness is really bad.” My father’s eyes narrowed. “Motion sickness? Does it usually make you this ill?” My mother’s gaze was fixed on my pale, sweating face, and I could see the conclusion forming in her mind. Pregnant. She imagined me, her biological daughter, sleeping around with delinquents, bringing shame and disease into her perfect life. The thought was so repulsive to her that she physically recoiled. Whatever guilt she’d felt earlier vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated disgust. I had no chance to explain. The moment the car pulled over, I scrambled out and retched into a trash can on the sidewalk. From the corner of my eye, I could see my parents’ grim, stony faces. And Chloe, looking on with feigned worry. Her real thoughts were a different story. She is so pathetic. But what if she brings some disgusting disease back to the house? Mom’s immune system is so weak. She could never handle something like that.

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In my third year of being dead, I came to Cole in a dream. “Honey,” I said, “could you burn one of those little paper-craft cats for me? It gets lonely down here.” Cole just smiled. “How about a hot ghost with a six-pack instead?” “Yes! Oh my god, yes! Abs are a must.” Then he pulled out a rope. “Okay, hang on,” he said, his smile turning wicked. “Let me just go die real quick.” 1 It was the third year of my death. As he did every year on this day, Cole came to visit my grave. He used the flame from the burning offerings to light a cigarette, the smoke curling into the cold air. “Fuck, you died young,” he muttered. Tsk. Such a charming man. He kept rambling, a one-sided conversation with a block of granite. “It’s Valentine’s Day, you know. Of all the days to pick for a death anniversary. A real power move, Ava. What am I supposed to do when I start dating again? Bring my new girlfriend here to meet the old one? Talk about a mood killer.” The word “girlfriend” echoed in the space where my heart used to be. A jealous fury, cold and sharp, whipped through me. I gathered a gust of wind, sending a spiral of ash from the offering bowl straight into his perfectly styled hair. Cole froze, watching the miniature cyclone. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not actually here, are you?” Yeah, I am. Happy now? You’ve pissed me off so much you almost brought me back to life. Of course, he couldn’t hear me. So he just clasped his hands together in a mock prayer, raised his eyes to the sky, and yelled, “Ava Ross, if you’re listening, help me make a billion dollars this year!” I touched his hair, and the man asks for a billion dollars. Unbelievable. In your dreams, asshole. I went silent. The fun was over. Cole seemed to sense it, the energy shift leaving him bored. He took one last drag from his cigarette and stubbed it out on the corner of my headstone, the cherry glowing red against the gray stone before dying. His long, elegant fingers traced the outline of my photo etched into the marble. He stood there for a long time. “Ava,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “I don’t think I’m going to come back after this.” A tremor went through me. Cole and I… we were a tempest. Most of our time together was spent at war, but in the lulls, there were moments of impossible tenderness. I remember the year I was at my most reckless, biting his lower lip until he winced. “Cole,” I’d whispered against his mouth, “if one of us dies, how long does the other one have to wait before they can move on?” He’d started tickling me then, deflecting. “You’re already planning on replacing me?” “With a handsome older man. Silver fox. Eight-pack abs are non-negotiable.” He had sighed, pulling me closer. “Three years, I guess. That’s the traditional mourning period, right? Three years.” And now, here we were. The three years were up. I guess I couldn’t blame him. 2 Cole sank to one knee, his gaze fixed on my photograph. “You look so young, Ava,” he murmured. “But I’m getting old. I’ve already got gray hairs.” He was still painfully handsome. But the last three years had been a relentless grind of building his empire, fueled by sleepless nights and too much whiskey. At least the eight-pack was still there. I’d checked. “We really don’t match anymore, do we?” he said to the picture. As he started to get up, a single white chrysanthemum flew through the air and smacked him squarely in the face. Cole frowned, plucking the flower from his cheek and turning to find the culprit. It was a little girl, no older than seven or eight. Her hands were clenched into tiny fists, her face flushed with righteous anger. This was new. Cole looked intrigued. “Hey, kid. Didn’t your mom ever tell you it’s not nice to throw—” “You’re a bad man!” she squeaked. “I am? How so?” “You put your cigarette out on the lady’s gravestone!” Ah. So that was it. A slow smile spread across Cole’s face. He walked over and crouched down, bringing himself to her eye level. His voice was pure, playful mischief. “You don’t get it,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “That was our thing. She used to…” He paused, then covered the girl’s ears with his hands, his expression turning strangely innocent. “She used to put her cigarettes out on me all the time.” I swirled around him, a frantic, invisible storm. He’s slandering me! It was one time! The little girl wriggled free. “What are you saying? I couldn’t hear you!” Cole stood up slowly. “Nothing you need to hear, kid.” He glanced around the empty cemetery. “Where’s your mom?” The girl’s voice was small but proud. “Mommy says I’m seven now. I’m a big girl, so I should learn to come visit the lady by myself.” A bitter, humorless smile touched Cole’s lips. He started walking away, his voice so soft I almost thought I’d imagined it. “Yeah,” he whispered to the wind. “If she hadn’t saved you, she’d be twenty-five now.” 3 Back in the Administration office, I was slogging through my afterlife paperwork when my fellow spirits drifted over. “Ava, are you seriously not going to reincarnate? You’d rather take the spectral civil service exam?” I offered a faint smile. “You guys don’t get it.” With birth rates what they are, you could end up anywhere. And while my own life was cut tragically short, I at least had one major asset: a rich ex-boyfriend. In the beginning, Cole sent offerings by the truckload. Flowers, champagne, letters… he was single-handedly causing a spiritual overflow. The Warden himself had begged me to visit Cole in a dream and tell him to tone it down. That was the first and only time I’d done it, until tonight. It was about three months after I’d died. Cole was in the brutal early stages of his startup, running on fumes and sheer will. Finding a moment when he was actually asleep was a challenge. When I finally found him passed out on his office couch, I didn’t enter his dream right away. I just watched him for a while. For all his talk, Cole didn’t seem heartbroken by my death. I never saw him shed a tear. Dying in a car crash is an ugly business. My head had been… well, it was bad. The mortician had done his best, piecing me back together, applying makeup to hide the worst of it. But when it came time to dress me in the traditional, modest burial gown, Cole, who had been stone-faced through the whole process, finally spoke up. “No,” he’d said, his voice raw. “She would have hated that. Put her in something beautiful. A sundress.” I’d been there, weeping invisibly. The floral one, please. But I’m getting off track. His company was taking off, but he looked haggard. Thinner. Still ridiculously handsome. When I finally slipped into his dream, he was on that small sofa. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw me pulling the corners of my mouth into a ghoulish face. He blinked, unimpressed. “Oh. A ghost.” “Seriously?” I huffed. “Could you at least try to be scared?” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. He threw an arm over his eyes. “Ava, you couldn’t scare a fly even when you were alive.” So I straddled him. “How about now?” I whispered, shifting my weight. Cole went still. A slow grin spread across his lips. He brought his hands to my waist. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” I leaned down and kissed him. We spent the rest of the night like that, lost in a dream. It was only at the very end, as the sun began to rise in the living world, that I remembered my mission. “Cole, ease up on the offerings. You’re causing an inflation problem.” I vanished. A moment later, Cole woke up. He sat up, a dazed look in his eyes. Then he glanced down at his lap, a dark blush creeping up his neck. He ran a hand over his face and swore. “Fuck.” Then he stumbled toward the bathroom. After that, the sheer volume of offerings did decrease. But as his business boomed, the quality skyrocketed. He started sending the spiritual equivalent of entire seasonal collections from Chanel, Dior, Hermès. I became the best-dressed ghost in the underworld. 4 An empty, aching void opened up in my chest. A familiar sourness stung my nose. Cole wasn’t coming back. No. That wasn’t acceptable. Sure, every time he visited, I put on a brave face. Floated around him with an air of detached coolness. Still thinking about me? Can’t get over this, huh? You’re just another chapter in my book, baby. You have no idea. The line of hot ghosts wanting to date me stretches all the way to Paris. But I only had that kind of bravado because I knew he couldn’t hear me. Now that he was actually leaving for good? I was panicking. I paced back and forth, my ghostly feet wearing a groove in the ethereal floor. I scribbled down a list and, with a deep breath, dove back into his dreams. He was not happy to see me. “Well, well,” he said, his arms crossed. “If it isn’t her royal highness, Ava Ross. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Okay, so three years without a single dream visit was probably a bad move. I’d been too busy haunting the girls who bullied me in high school. Priorities. I put on my most charming smile. “Cole…” He just sneered. “Oh?” I tried a different approach. “Babe?” “Tsk.” I froze, then mumbled something under my breath. “What was that?” he mocked. “Did you leave your voice back in the land of the dead?” “Honey!” I finally blurted out. That seemed to please him. A corner of his mouth twitched. “Spit it out.” Since he was planning on finding a replacement, I figured I deserved a little something to ease my own loneliness. “Could you maybe burn a little paper-craft kitty for me? You know, for company? To ease the solitude?” “You’re lonely?” “Mhmm. And I prefer orange tabbies, just so you know.” Cole tilted his chin up, a dangerous glint in his eye. “How about a ghost boyfriend instead? The kind with a pulse?” My jaw dropped. “You’re finally getting it! I have needs, you know. I’ve been celibate for three years. I’m losing my mind.” He clapped his hands together, a look of pure delight on his face. “Great! What’s your type?” I pretended to think, tapping a finger to my lip. “Definitely needs a six-pack. And young. I don’t date anyone over twenty-five.” I was just getting started on my list of demands when the dreamscape shifted. Suddenly, Cole was holding a thick rope. A sturdy beam materialized overhead. I swallowed hard. “Honey?” He gave me a smile so bright it was blinding. “Just wait right there,” he said cheerfully. “I’m on my way.” Oh, hell no. I frantically shoved my shopping list into his hands. “I DON’T WANT A BOYFRIEND ANYMORE!” I shrieked. “JUST REMEMBER TO SEND THE BAGS!” 5 I was admiring the mountain of packages at the spectral post office. “That’s enough new clothes to last me a few decades,” I mused. “Though, the latest Birkin still hasn’t arrived.” I was happily tearing into a Chanel box when one of my ghost-friends drifted through the wall in a panic. “Ava! Your ex-boyfriend was in a car accident! He’s dying!” My what? By the time I rushed to the scene, it was bad. Cole was barely breathing, slumped over the steering wheel. And clutched in his hand was a delicate, exquisitely crafted paper cat. Beside the wreck, Cole’s spirit was already detaching from his body, his ethereal form flickering. He stared at me, his eyes wide with confusion. “Ava…?” There was no time to think. I flew at him and shoved his spirit with all my might, forcing it back into his broken body. “YOU BURN THE NEW BIRKIN BEFORE YOU DIE, YOU ASSHOLE!” Inside the mangled car, Cole’s bloody fingers twitched. 6 After a long night of surgery, Cole’s vitals stabilized. But he didn’t wake up. I stood by his hospital bed all night, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. I reached out and gently traced the line of his nose, my ghostly finger passing right through him. As expected, he didn’t stir. When I returned to the underworld, I was greeted with news: I had passed my exam. I was officially a member of the Administration. But before I could even celebrate, I was summoned by the Review Board. The Warden sat at the head of a long table, taking a slow sip of tea. “Ava Ross,” he began, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. “Due to your recent interference, your ex-boyfriend, Cole Miller, who was scheduled to die, is now alive. However, our projections show that in three months, he will become a serial killer.” I slammed my hands on the table, a thunderclap of spectral energy. “That’s impossible! Absolutely not! My Cole is a gentleman! He’s kind and gentle. He wouldn’t even kill a spider! And you’re telling me he’s going to kill people? That’s bullshit!” The Warden choked on his tea, coughing violently for a moment before composing himself. “If you’ll direct your attention to the screen.” A large monitor flickered to life, displaying a scene from three months in the future. Cole, wearing a clear rain poncho, his eyes cold and disdainful, looking down as if at a piece of trash. A spatter of blood hit his cheek, tracing a path down his neck. The camera panned to the victim. A man. His familiar gold-rimmed glasses were shattered, his nose broken, the mask of cultured civility gone. He was on the ground, weeping and begging for his life. I frowned. How dare that man’s filthy blood touch my beautiful Cole’s face? I sat back down calmly. “Okay, so maybe murder is a little extreme,” I conceded. “How about a stern warning?” “The entire purpose of this board,” the Warden said, his voice dripping with gravitas, “is to prevent this exact kind of nepotism from staff members! Any employee with a first-degree relation to a violent felon will have their credentials immediately revoked.” I shot to my feet again. “So what happens to me?” “We’re giving you a chance. Return to the mortal plane. Stop Cole from committing these crimes.” “How? He can’t see me. He can’t hear me.” “Ah,” the Warden said, a faint smile on his lips. “But thanks to you, he had a near-death experience. And now… he can.”

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I was on vacation with my mother-in-law, Katherine. After checking into the hotel, we went for a swim in the pool. That’s when a woman, dressed to the nines even in her poolside attire, pinched her nose in disgust. “This is a luxury resort. What is with the class of people they’re letting in these days? I bet they just snuck in to use the pool.” Her voice dripped with contempt. “Sharing the same water with you people… I’m afraid I’ll catch something.” The mood was instantly ruined. “This is a public pool for hotel guests,” I said, my voice cold. “If you can’t handle that, build one in your own backyard.” Her eyebrows shot up. “How dare you speak to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am? My husband owns this hotel. The penthouse suite is mine, year-round.” She jabbed a finger at us. “I’m ordering you to get out. Now. The stench of your cheapness is fouling the water. It’s disgusting.” Katherine and I exchanged a look. I saw the same icy fury in her eyes that I felt in my own heart. This hotel was one of dozens owned by Terence McMurray. Since when was he someone else’s husband? … We’d wanted to keep a low profile on this trip, checking in without revealing our connection to the McMurray hotel empire. So much for that. Our relaxing getaway had just turned sour. Katherine, a titan of industry her entire life, wasn’t about to be intimidated. She scoffed. “And who are you to order us around? You’re the one who should get out. It’s the stench of your bad manners that’s truly disgusting.” Ignoring the woman, who was now sputtering with rage, Katherine turned to me. “Amelia, let’s just swim. Pay her no mind. When we get back, you and I will have a little chat with Terence and find out what in the world is going on.” Being ignored sent the woman into a full-blown tantrum. A vicious smile twisted her lips. “Fine. If you love the water so much, you can stay in it all day.” She made a call. A moment later, a young, athletic-looking man appeared, fawning over her. “Rose, what can I do for you? Ready for that swimming lesson?” She pointed at us with a perfectly manicured nail. “Marco, teach these two ignorant women a lesson for me.” Marco understood immediately. “You got it, Rose,” he said with a greasy smile. “I’m a swim coach. I know all the tricks for handling people in the water.” He dove in. Before we could react, he grabbed Katherine by the head and shoved her under the water with all his strength. She was no match for him; she started choking instantly, thrashing wildly. “Stop it!” I lunged at him, but he was agile, twisting away and pushing my head under, forcing a lungful of chlorinated water down my throat. I came up sputtering and, in a blind panic, I sank my teeth into his arm. Hard. He yelled and let go. I immediately pulled Katherine to the side of the pool. Her eyes had rolled back, and she was coughing so hard it sounded like she was trying to hack up a lung. She was a woman who had commanded boardrooms and built an empire that spanned the country. She was treated with reverence everywhere she went. When had she ever been subjected to such humiliation? Her voice, when she could finally speak, was steel. “Do you realize you could have killed me? This is criminal!” she raged at Rose. “I’ll have my legal team sue you into oblivion!” Rose just laughed. “So what if you died? My husband owns hundreds of hotels. He makes enough in one day to buy your pathetic lives a thousand times over. You should have found out who you were messing with before you started something. Lawyers? Please. You can’t even afford the filing fee.” This hotel was just one of many Katherine had entrusted to Terence’s management. This woman’s possessive, arrogant attitude made no sense. Did Terence have a second wife? I rubbed Katherine’s back, trying to soothe her. “Is your husband’s name Terence McMurray?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Rose preened. “That’s right. At least you’re not completely clueless. Now, if you kneel and apologize, then scrub this entire pool clean, I might consider letting you go. Otherwise, when he gets here, you’re in for a world of hurt.” Ice flooded my veins. Terence. The man who had sworn his undying love and loyalty to me… was he really cheating? Then, my eyes locked on the tattoo just above her collarbone. A single, perfect rose. I had seen the exact same tattoo on his chiseled abs. He’d told me he got it because I loved roses. I was so touched at the time. What a fool I’d been. It was a couples’ tattoo. If we hadn’t run into her today, I never would have known he was keeping a mistress in a gilded cage. The angrier I got, the calmer I became. “As far as I know,” I said, my words sharp enough to cut glass, “Terence McMurray’s wife is named Amelia. And she looks nothing like you. You’re the mistress, yet you have the audacity to be this arrogant? You have no shame.” I raised my chin. “Go on. Call him. I’d love to see how he plans to make us hurt.” The word “mistress” struck a nerve. Her face contorted with hatred. “In love, there’s no first or second. The one who isn’t loved is the other woman,” she spat. “My husband is on his way over right now. You just wait.” She dialed a number, and her voice instantly transformed into a sickly sweet, baby-talk purr. “Jules, darling, when will you be here? There are these two old hags bullying me at the pool. I’m so scared. You have to come and stick up for me.” She giggled. “And you should reserve the pool just for me from now on. I’ve learned a few new tricks in the water… and I can’t wait for you to enjoy them.” Hanging up, her face was a mask of smug triumph. “He’ll be here in thirty minutes. You’re dead. He has a million ways to deal with people like you.” The thought of Terence, acting the part of the doting husband with me while carrying on with this woman, made me want to throw up. Katherine saw the look on my face and understood everything. She gritted her teeth. “Terence. That bastard. He’s just like his father.” Her voice was laced with a lifetime of pain. “Everything I gave him, I can take away.” Katherine despised infidelity. She had divorced Terence’s father years ago after he’d had an affair with a young model, and she’d raised Terence on her own while building her business empire. To think her own son would betray her in the same way… it was a knife to the heart. Katherine Kingsley was the true power behind the McMurray hotel chain. And I, Amelia Davenport, came from a family whose standing was every bit the equal of his. Terence McMurray, I thought. Let’s see you explain this. Just then, I saw Katherine’s face go pale. I quickly tried to help her out of the pool to get changed. But Rose waved a hand. Marco leaped onto the pool deck and, as Katherine was climbing the ladder, he kicked her squarely in the back. She tumbled back into the water. I scrambled to get to her. On the deck, Rose was laughing hysterically. “You look like a pair of drowning ducks! You love the water so much? Then stay in it!” She turned to Marco. “Don’t let them out until my husband gets here.” “You got it, Rose,” the lapdog said. “Just put in a good word for me with Mr. McMurray when he arrives.” Every time we tried to climb out, he would kick us back in. Our strength was fading fast. Katherine was clutching her chest, struggling to breathe. I held her up, trying to keep her head above water. “Are you trying to kill her?” I screamed at the deck. “My mother has a heart condition! Let us out, now! You will regret this when Terence gets here!” Marco hesitated, a flicker of fear in his eyes. But Rose just scoffed. “Nice try. Old women like you are full of tricks. Faking a heart attack? You were swimming just fine a minute ago.” She turned to Marco with a wicked grin. “Go turn off the pool heater. Let’s see how long she can keep up the act.” “I’m telling you, if she dies, the police will be here, and you’ll both go to jail!” I yelled, my voice raw with fury. Rose simply picked up a glass of red wine and took a leisurely sip. “Stop the drama. If you want out, beg me. Weren’t you so tough a minute ago? What, you’re scared now that my husband is coming?” Katherine did have a heart condition. The stress, the shock, and the near-drowning had taken their toll. She was in real trouble. I bit my lip. I had to get her out of there. I would swallow my pride, do anything to keep her safe. But as I was about to speak, Katherine gripped my arm. Her voice was a ragged whisper. “I have never bowed my head to anyone in my life. And I will not start by begging a classless creature like her. Amelia, I can hold on. When Terence gets here… I will never forgive him. Don’t you worry. A man ruined my life once. I will always be on your side.” Seeing our defiance, a cruel glint appeared in Rose’s eyes. “Marco, go to the kitchen. Bring back two buckets of ice. Let’s cool them down a little more.” The ice cubes plunged into the water, and the temperature dropped immediately. I was already shivering uncontrollably. Katherine’s lips were turning blue, and her eyes were becoming unfocused. “Katherine?” I patted her cheek, but she barely responded. I gathered what little strength I had and tried to swim for the edge, but each time, Marco used a pool skimmer to push us back. I was frantic, my eyes burning with tears. “My mother is dying!” I screamed. “Let her out! If she dies, this hotel is liable! Terence will never let you get away with this!” Marco, as a swim coach, could see Katherine’s condition was deteriorating rapidly. “Rose,” he said nervously, “that older one… she doesn’t look so good. Maybe we should let her out. I mean, if she dies in the pool, it’s not like you’ll want to use it anymore. And I don’t think Mr. McMurray would be happy if you actually killed someone. I could lose my job.” Rose thought for a moment, then sneered. “Worried about your job, are you? I’m not trying to kill anyone. But some people are just stubborn. I told them, if they beg, I’ll consider it. Clearly, they’re not at death’s door yet. Let’s just see how long they can last.” Marco puffed out his chest, emboldened by her. “Let me make this clear,” he said, looking down at me. “Rose is Mr. McMurray’s woman. This whole hotel is basically hers. Everything revolves around her. You shouldn’t have even been allowed in here today. If you want to live, you’ll apologize and beg her. If not, nobody can help you.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Looking at Katherine, so fragile and fading, I knew I had no choice. Pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford. “Please,” I choked out, the words tearing at my throat. “I’m begging you. Let my mother go. She has a heart condition. She’s going to die.” A triumphant smirk spread across Rose’s face. “Didn’t you call me a shameless mistress earlier?” she purred. “I want you to say it again, but differently. I want you to say, ‘That bitch Amelia is the mistress, and you are Terence McMurray’s wife.’” She had no idea that I was Amelia, but in a stroke of cruel irony, she had found the one thing that would humiliate me the most. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced the words out, one by one. “That bitch Amelia… is the mistress. You are Terence McMurray’s wife.” “There. Are you satisfied? Now let my mother out!” Rose laughed, a delighted, wicked sound. “I said I’d consider it. And I have. I’ve decided… no.” Pure rage surged through me. I wanted to tear her apart with my bare hands. I had one card left to play. “You’ve gone too far! She is Terence McMurray’s mother! If anything happens to her, he will destroy you!” But Rose just howled with laughter. “You pathetic liars will say anything! A minute ago, you called her ‘Mom.’ Now she’s Terence’s mother? You ruined my swim today, and I’m going to make sure you learn your lesson. Next time, watch who you cross!” In my arms, Katherine began to tremble violently. Her breathing grew shallow. It was a full-blown cardiac episode. If she didn’t get her nitroglycerin pills, she would die. “Help!” I screamed, my voice cracking with desperation. “Somebody help us! It’s an emergency!” But the pool area was deserted. Even Marco was starting to panic. “Rose, what if…” “It’s fine,” she cut him off, utterly unconcerned. “Old ladies like her are tougher than they look. She’s faking it. My husband will be here any minute. We’ll let them out then. A few more minutes won’t make a difference.” A few minutes was all it would take to lose her. Despair washed over me, cold and absolute. Suddenly, the hotel manager came running over. “Help!” I shrieked. “My mother is having a heart attack! Get her out of the water! Call an ambulance!” The manager had met Katherine once, years ago, but he didn’t recognize the pale, shivering woman in my arms. He had heard there was trouble and had come to kiss up to Rose. Now, seeing the reality of the situation, he quickly weighed his options: piss off Rose, or have someone die on his watch and lose his job. He chose his job. “Miss Rose,” he said with a practiced smile, “perhaps it would be best to let them out. If something… unfortunate… were to happen, this pool would be unusable for you in the future.” Rose glanced at him, then shrugged haughtily. “Fine. For your sake, I’ll let them out.” The manager and Marco quickly pulled us from the water. Katherine was limp, unresponsive. I didn’t even stop to catch my breath. I scrambled to the locker room, grabbed my bag, and fumbled with the vial of emergency heart pills. Just as I was about to put one under her tongue, a designer heel flashed out and kicked the vial from my hand. The pills scattered across the wet tiles and into the pool. Rose looked at my face, twisted in anguish, and laughed. “Alright, the show’s over. We let you out. Now get lost, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way from now on. I’m feeling generous today.” Something inside me snapped. I lunged forward and slapped her across the face with all my might. “If anything happens to my mother,” I seethed, my eyes blazing, “I will make you and Terence McMurray pay!” She shrieked, stunned that I would dare touch her. “You psycho! I should have just let you both drown!” I tried to go for her again, but Marco and the manager grabbed my arms. Rose, freed, slapped me again and again, more than a dozen times, until my face was numb and burning. The stinging pain cleared my head. Katherine was running out of time. I wrenched myself free, found my phone, and dialed Terence’s number. “Terence, it’s Mom. She’s having a heart attack. We’re at the pool at the resort in the Hamptons. Get the nearest medical team here now!” My voice was shaking. “If you’re late, she’s not going to make it!” His reply was impatient. “Your mother has a heart condition. Doesn’t she know how to take care of herself? I’m in a meeting. Call an ambulance yourself.” He hung up. I trembled with a rage so profound it left me breathless. My mother? Did he really not know whose mother had the heart condition? Just then, Rose’s face lit up. “Terence, darling! You’re finally here!” She flew into the arms of the man who had just walked in, melting against him. “Jules, what took you so long? Those two women were horrible to me.” She tilted her head, showing him the red mark on her cheek. “Look, that bitch even hit me. You have to make them pay. And then you have to stay and comfort me for a few days.” The man stroked her cheek, his voice hardening with anger. “Who had the audacity to lay a hand on you? Don’t worry. I’ll make them regret it.” He smiled down at her. “And of course I’ll stay. I cleared my whole week for you.” This was the man who had just hung up on me. The man who, just last night, had been complaining about how much he would miss me during his week-long “business trip.” It was all a lie. The vows, the promises… they were worth less than dirt. Rose wrapped her arm around Terence’s waist and led him toward me like a trophy. “That’s the one who hit me,” she said, pointing. “And that’s her mother on the ground. Teach them a lesson they’ll never forget.” I slowly raised my head and stared directly into his eyes. “Terence,” I said, my voice like ice. “How, exactly, are you going to teach me a lesson?”

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I was with Asher for ten years. I even had his favorite flower, the gardenia, tattooed over my collarbone. He finally agreed to marry me, only to keep an 18-year-old girl on the side. In the days leading up to our wedding, he indulged her in a “breakup countdown.” He took her skydiving, skiing, to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. But what he didn’t know was that I didn’t have long to live. I booked a flight out of the country, donated every penny he had to his name, and had the tattoo lasered off. For every day he counted down to our wedding, I was counting down the days to leaving him forever. 1 The day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, the little girl Asher was keeping on the side came to find me. “I know I’m the other woman.” Her opening line was terrifyingly sincere. She bit her lip. “Ma’am, I know you’re about to get married, but—” “Asher doesn’t love you anymore.” “I’ve been with him for a year. We’ve slept together seventy-eight times. Fifty-three times in hotels, twenty-one at my place.” Her voice dropped, laced with a cruel sort of triumph. “And four times at your place. In your bed.” She looked me straight in the eye. “If Asher still loved you, I wouldn’t even exist.” I almost had to laugh. I lit a cigarette, watching her through the haze of smoke. “What else? Go on.” She pulled out her phone and played a video. The angle was discreet, clearly filmed in secret. The girl, Janice, was curled up in Asher’s arms, sobbing. “Even if you have to marry her out of duty, can you please not leave me?” Asher pushed her away and tossed a credit card onto the table. “Find a decent guy. Being with me is no good for you. It’s too dangerous.” “I don’t want to!” She wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice a sweet, pleading whine. “I’m not afraid of danger.” “Please, don’t get rid of me.” “Asher, I’ll never be a liability to you. I swear.” Asher froze. His gaze swept over her face, and for a moment, he seemed lost in a memory. Then, he leaned in and kissed her. 2 I stubbed out my cigarette. The girl was eighteen, her face brimming with the soft glow of youth. Pure innocence. And I knew, the moment I saw her. She looked just like me. Just like the eighteen-year-old Elara. “You were right about one thing,” I said, my voice steady. “If Asher still loved me, you wouldn’t exist.” I pushed myself up from the chair. A sharp pain lanced through my abdomen, but I braced myself against the tabletop, careful not to let it show. “But let me give you a piece of advice: don’t fall too deep. Asher doesn’t love you. And he doesn’t love me, either.” “He only loves the memory of Elara.” The innocent, beautiful girl who died a long time ago on the bloody path he climbed to the top. “In a few years, he’ll find a new replacement, and you’ll end up worse off than me.” That was a lie, of course. I was already dying. How could she possibly have it worse than me? The worst she’d face was being tossed aside when Asher finally got bored. 3 I was eighteen when I got with Asher. I grew up without a mom or a dad; the grandmother who raised me passed away when I was fifteen. That’s when Asher appeared. He pursued me relentlessly, throwing money at me like it was nothing, acting as if he wanted to lay the entire world at my feet. Asher was handsome, and he gave me a sense of security I’d never known. I fell hard and fast. On my nineteenth birthday, he coaxed me into bed. That night was a blur of pain that slowly melted into pleasure. We became one. The very next day, Asher took me to meet his crew. I’d never been in that kind of scene before, and I clung to his sleeve, shyly mumbling greetings as he introduced me. Their eyes raked over me, full of amusement and disdain. “Asher, where’d you find this little doll?” “Too sweet. She’ll just be dead weight.” Back then, I had no idea what “dead weight” really meant. I couldn’t help but whisper a defense, “I won’t.” “I’ll never be a liability to Asher.” I swore it. But as I was slowly drawn into Asher’s world, I began to understand the life he led. It was a life lived on a knife’s edge. To avoid dragging him down, to be able to stand by his side, I had no choice but to force myself to adapt. Ten years. I cut my hair short, dyed it, started smoking, got tattoos. My body became a roadmap of scars. My ruthlessness earned me a place as his second-in-command in the city’s underbelly. But Asher never seemed happy about it. Countless nights, he’d hold me close, his fingers tracing the scars on my skin before kissing each one. “Elara.” He’d bury his face in my chest and sigh. “I miss the girl you used to be.” And every time, after a moment of stunned silence, I would push him away and light a cigarette. I’d laugh, a bitter, smoky sound. “Asher, you say that like you have a goddamn soul.” 4 Asher came home in the dead of night. I was lying in bed, wide awake, staring into the darkness. He slipped under the covers and pulled me into his arms. “Still awake?” He leaned down to kiss me, but I turned my head away. He paused, then reined in his temper and held me tighter. “Who pissed you off? Tell me and I’ll go take care of them, okay?” “Asher.” “Yeah?” The room was so dark I couldn’t see his face. But I could smell it on him. The cloying scent of gardenias. “Let’s break up.” Asher’s body went rigid. He released me, rolling onto his back. “What is it now?” He rubbed his temples, his voice thick with irritation. “You’re not a kid anymore. What’s with the drama?” “Break up?” He scoffed. “Elara, you’re not getting any younger. Who’s going to marry a woman who smokes, drinks, has tattoos, and is tougher than most men?” A sharp pain pierced my chest. I pressed my hand to my heart, but the ache wouldn’t subside. Last year, I’d needed twelve stitches in my arm. I had an allergy to anesthetics, so they stitched me up raw. I bit down on my teeth and didn’t make a sound. But a few careless words from a drunk Asher were enough to make my eyes burn. “Asher,” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “if I were terminally ill, would you…” “Elara.” He cut me off, his impatience flaring. “Don’t ask such pointless questions.” “If you were really dying, I’d kill myself right alongside you, alright?” He rubbed his brow again. “I’m swamped with the wedding and business right now. I don’t have the energy to coddle you. Stop acting out.” Just then, his phone buzzed. Asher irritably declined the call. It rang again. After a few rounds of this, he finally got out of bed and answered it. “What?” A girl’s crying filtered through the receiver, faint and distorted. Asher swore under his breath. “Such a goddamn pain.” But even as he complained, he was already pulling on his clothes. “Something came up with business. I have to go deal with it.” “Get some sleep. Don’t wait up for me.” 5 Our wedding was set for the third of next month. A simple ceremony. I never told Asher about my diagnosis. It was terminal. There was no cure. I also never told him that I had no intention of marrying him. I could accept everything about Asher. Everything except betrayal. The thought of him holding another woman, kissing her face, searching her features for the ghost of my younger self, made my stomach churn with nausea. I got with Asher when I was eighteen. It had been exactly ten years. Now, the doctor was telling me I had maybe six months left. By that math, I’d wasted nearly half my life on him. With what little time I had left… I just wanted to be Elara. I booked a flight out of the country. I wanted to see the world I loved but had never had the chance to explore, while I still had the strength. The ticket was for the third of next month. 6 In the morning, I crossed another day off the calendar. Ten days left until I was gone. The front door opened behind me. Asher strode in, bringing a gust of winter air with him. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He still hated my short hair. His eyes followed mine to the calendar, to the date circled heavily in red. A smile touched his lips as he gently pinched my cheek. “Can’t wait to marry me, huh?” He counted the days. “Ten days left.” He buried his face in my neck. “How about I make some time in the next couple of days to take you to get your hair dyed back to black? Maybe get some extensions?” “You’d look beautiful at the wedding.” “No need.” I stared blankly at the calendar. “It’s only a few more days.” “Short hair is fine.” Asher was quiet for a long moment. “Alright.” He let me go and picked up his jacket from the chair. “Things are crazy with the wedding. And Leo’s place got trashed yesterday. I’m going to be busy, so I won’t be back for a while.” He watched me as he spoke. As if he was waiting for me to back down. Waiting for me to say, Okay, let’s go dye my hair. Let’s get extensions. But I just met his gaze with a cool indifference. “Go.” “After all, there are only ten days left.” Asher didn’t say another word. He turned and walked out into the night. He didn’t look back. 7 Seven days until the wedding. I went to a tattoo shop on the outskirts of the city. The owner was a woman in her thirties. She was well-maintained, but her eyes held a world of weariness. She glanced at me. “What can I get for you?” I rolled up my sleeve, pointing to the ‘A.V.’ on my wrist, then revealed the gardenia below my collarbone. “I want them gone.” She studied them. “It’ll hurt. A lot. And it’s going to scar.” I smiled. “I’m not afraid.” Pain was the one thing I wasn’t afraid of anymore. As for scars… My body was already covered in them. What were two more? Besides, in six months, this body would probably be nothing but a pile of ash anyway. We chatted as she set up. “Breakup?” I smirked. “Yeah. Soon.” “Seven days.” She let out a low whistle. “That’s some ceremony. A countdown to a breakup?” Maybe it was the quiet of the shop, or maybe I just felt a connection with her. The moment I saw her, I felt like we were kindred spirits. I told her about the past. When Asher was chasing me, I gave him a deadline. Three hundred days. If he could stick it out, I’d be his. So, every morning when he showed up, he’d count down the days. “One hundred and seventy-nine days left.” “Elara, ninety-six more days until you’re my girlfriend.” “One day left, future girlfriend.” … The boy who chased me for three hundred days, rain or shine… Had slowly grown tired of me over the last ten years. I felt comfortable talking to her. As the laser worked its painful magic, I told her what the tattoos meant. The ‘A.V.’ on my wrist—for Asher Vaughn—I got a year after we got together. I’d been kidnapped by his rivals, used as bait to lure him into a trap. Asher came alone to save me. He knew it was a death trap, but he didn’t hesitate. He was almost hacked to death that day. When he got out of the hospital, I went straight to a tattoo parlor and had his initials permanently etched into my skin. I was so naive back then. I thought, Asher is the one. For the rest of my life. But that night, when I proudly showed him my still-red and swollen wrist, he just stared. There was no trace of the emotion I’d expected. He frowned, asking me why I did it, if it hurt. Finally, he pulled me into his arms. “Don’t do this again. I don’t like it.” “I don’t like seeing you hurt yourself.” “You’re perfect the way you are. I like the clean, flawless Elara.” I was young then, and I thought he was just worried about me. I never imagined he was already telling me exactly what he wanted. The gardenia on my chest, I got that when Asher swore he would marry me by the time I was twenty-eight. Gardenias were his favorite. He loved their pure, untainted white. So I had one tattooed over my heart. Waiting for him to marry me. Now, he had finally set a wedding date in my twenty-eighth year. He was planning a wedding seven days from now. And I was planning my escape. Even though this body was already broken, I didn’t want to leave with any marks of his on me. I pointed to the other side of my collarbone. “Here,” I told the artist. “I want a trumpet vine.” Asher loved the gardenia. But I had always loved the trumpet vine. He wanted me to be pure and flawless. But in the last days of my life, I was going to be the trumpet vine, beautiful and defiant, climbing any wall I chose. 8 It was evening when I left the tattoo shop. The owner and I had really hit it off. We exchanged numbers and added each other on social media. Her name was Rhea. On the way home, I passed a small stand selling cotton candy. I couldn’t help but stop. The last time I’d had it was when I was a child, before my grandmother passed away. Whenever I’d be so captivated by the fluffy clouds of sugar that I couldn’t walk away, she’d empty her pockets of loose change to buy one for me. She’d watch me eat the whole thing, then lovingly scold me, “You little sweet tooth.” My grandmother always loved to see me smile. It made the wrinkles on her old, kind face deepen. A cold wind blew, scattering the memory. I walked up to the stand and bought a cotton candy rabbit. It was so sweet. Just as cloyingly sweet as I remembered. As I rounded a corner, I heard a little girl’s high-pitched voice. “Mommy, look! That lady is so cool! But why is she eating cotton candy?” “Isn’t that for kids?” Her mother laughed softly. “Who says only kids can eat cotton candy? Anyone can. A little bit of sugar can make you feel happier.” I walked past them, my heels clicking on the pavement. I heard the girl’s innocent voice again. “But Mommy… she ate all that sweet cotton candy, but she doesn’t look happy at all.” “Mommy, that lady looks so lonely…” Her voice faded into the distance. By the time I got home, the cotton candy was gone, leaving only a sticky residue on my hands. I went inside and washed them. Just then, my phone rang. It was Asher. He sounded drunk. “Elara.” “I’m here.” He chuckled on the other end. “Seven days left. You’re going to be my wife.” “Tomorrow. I’ll take you to pick out a dress?” “You can just pick one. You know my size.” There was a long silence on his end. Faintly, I could hear a girl’s coquettish voice in the background. “Ash, let me go with you to try on dresses. Don’t you want to see what I look like in a wedding gown?” 9 A long moment passed. Asher’s voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Okay.” I couldn’t tell if he was answering me, or the girl beside him. I woke up. I crossed yesterday off the calendar with a thick, dark line. Six days left. Today, I was going to a concert. I got dressed, did my makeup. My body ached all over, a dull, persistent throb, but I could manage. In the full-length mirror, a woman in a short skirt—the kind Asher hated—stared back at me. Her limbs were slender, her smile serene. She had finally made peace with the ugly scars that littered her body. And there, just below her right collarbone… A trumpet vine bloomed. The stadium was packed, a sea of thousands of roaring fans. I sang along with the crowd, my voice raw and loud: “I’m the proud destruction, of the ordinary I despise, only to remember it’s what I loved the most.” I must have been lost in the music, because it wasn’t until the song ended that I felt the sharp, gnawing pain inside me again. I gripped the armrest, trying to steady myself. Suddenly, a carton of milk appeared in front of me. My stomach felt like it was being twisted by knives. I looked up to see a young, unfamiliar face. The boy was wearing a cream-colored puffer jacket and smiling kindly at me. “Stomach ache? The milk is warm. You can have it.” I took it, the warmth seeping into my cold hands. “Thank you.” We were in between songs. The boy shook his head. “It’s nothing. My girlfriend loves helping people. She’d be happy to know I gave it to you.” I glanced at the empty seat beside him. “She couldn’t make it to the concert?” He smiled, but his eyes were instantly filled with a winter frost. “She passed away.” “I’m here for her.” The milk I’d just swallowed felt like a stone in my throat. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay.” The music started again, and everyone turned their attention back to the stage. It was time for the lucky fan drawing. The massive screens flashed through rows and rows of faces. The moment the screen froze… I saw myself. The camera operator must have thought the boy and I were a couple. People around us started shouting for us to kiss. The boy quickly pulled a photo from his jacket and held it up to the camera. It was his girl. A microphone was thrust into my hand, and for a moment, I was speechless. Finally, I looked at the singer on stage, an artist I’d admired for years, and said softly, “I hope more and more people get to see you, to love your music.” “I hope you all find even greater success.” “I don’t really know what else to say, so… to everyone here tonight—” “I wish you all a long and happy life.” Some people in the crowd chuckled, probably wondering why my wish was so plain and ordinary. The camera quickly cut away. As the melody of the next song began, I saw the boy next to me gently tracing the outline of the girl in the photo. His eyes were red as he whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “And I wish my Suzie a long and happy life, too.” In that moment… For some reason… I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. 10 The concert ended. I forced myself to make it home. I’d forgotten to close the window this morning, and the apartment was bone-chillingly cold. I shut the window, took off my makeup, and collapsed onto the bed. I opened up a social media app, scrolling aimlessly, when a video from a “person you might know” popped up. The user ID was “Janice S.” In the video, the young girl was dressed in a pristine white wedding gown. The face of the man whose arm she held was blurred out. Her eyes were a mix of youthful innocence and raw ambition. “Countdown: 6 days until my boyfriend marries someone else!” “Holding onto you for these last few days. I wish this moment could last forever.” In the frame, Asher gently held the girl’s waist. His touch was tender. 11 Five days left. I was feeling relatively energetic today. I got up early and took care of something important. I donated every last cent of Asher’s money that he’d put in my name. An eight-figure sum. Gone. Asher might have betrayed me emotionally, but he’d been completely open with his finances. For years, he’d transferred almost everything he earned to me, keeping only enough for daily expenses. As a final touch, I made the donation in his name. After all, it was his money. Might as well earn him some good karma. As for my own savings, I donated half and kept the other half for myself. Knowing your life is about to end is an incredibly painful thing. So I needed to make sure I didn’t add to the pain by running out of money before I ran out of time. But… The moment I walked out of the charity foundation’s doors, my vision went black, and I collapsed. I woke up in a hospital bed. A nurse told me they’d tried calling my emergency contact multiple times from my phone, but no one had answered. My only emergency contact was Asher. “I’m sorry. I’ll go downstairs to pay the bill in a minute.” The doctor, his face grim, urged me to be admitted. “If you don’t start treatment now, you might not even make it six months.” I managed a weak smile. “And if I do get treatment?” “I can’t guarantee how the disease will progress, but I can guarantee that as long as there’s a sliver of hope, we will do everything we can.” Basically, even with treatment, the chances were slim. “Thank you, doctor.” “But could you please help me with the discharge papers?” As soon as I left his office, Asher called. “Sorry, I was busy. Didn’t hear the phone.” “What’s up?” My eyes fell on a familiar figure at the other end of the hallway. “Nothing. I lost my phone, and a kind stranger called my emergency contact.” “Good, as long as you’re okay. The wedding’s almost here. Is there anything you need?” “No.” Another stretch of silence. I could hear Janice’s impatient whine on his end. “Hurry up, the ice cream is melting.” Asher spoke again. “Call me if you need anything.” The line went dead. I frowned, my gaze fixed on the person down the hall. It was Rhea, the owner of the tattoo shop. She was bending over to pick up a wig that a passing child had knocked off her head. As she looked up, our eyes met. “You?” She clearly recognized me. She adjusted the crooked wig on her head. “Didn’t get a chance to tell you last time, but we’re in the same boat. Two short-timers.” “I was actually planning on closing the shop for good that day,” she said with a wry smile. “You were the last customer of my career.” “What is it?” I asked. “Leukemia.” She shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. “No cure.” We walked out of the hospital together. I pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered her one, and we stood in the biting wind, struggling to light them for each other. Our eyes met. And suddenly, we both burst out laughing. Two goddamn unlucky souls. We laughed, watching the smoke dissolve into the wind, just like our own impending ends. 12 I changed my flight. No more trip abroad. Rhea and I booked tickets to Oregon together. My body couldn’t handle the long flight across the Atlantic anymore. Maybe it was fate. Maybe I was never meant to see that ocean view. The two of us, both on borrowed time, had the same idea. We wanted to see the ocean. Last night, Janice posted a new video. “Countdown: 5 days. Thank you for facing your fears to go skydiving with me.” “I love you too.” In the video, Asher and Janice were strapped together, standing on a platform hundreds of feet in the air. They leaped, wrapped in an embrace. His body was stiff, a clear sign of his fear of heights. But as they fell, he still managed to scream. “I love you!” “Janice!” But if you listened closely, the last word he shouted wasn’t Janice. It was Elara. 13 Four days until the wedding. Rhea asked me if there was anything else I wanted to do. I thought for a moment, then asked her to come with me to see someone. On the way, Rhea asked, “Is she a friend of yours?” I shook my head. “Quite the opposite. She’s my… mortal enemy, I guess.” Rhea raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. She even stopped with me at a flower shop to order a bouquet. Mara ran the East Docks. She was the toughest woman in that part of the city. She controlled a half-dozen bars and was as ruthless with herself as she was with others. We’d been fighting for control for years. Neither of us ever came out on top. The moment Rhea and I walked into her main bar, we were stopped. “Elara?” Mara was called out from the back. She frowned at me. “What are you doing here again?” “Came to call you an old hag.” Her face instantly darkened. Then she let loose a string of curses. We stood there and traded insults for a solid half hour. By the end, I felt fantastic. I grabbed a nearby bottle, took a swig of whiskey, and was about to take another when Rhea stopped me. “Just a taste is enough.” I sighed and put it down. I gave Mara a wave. “Alright, I’m leaving.” “You should tone down the fighting and killing. Settle down a bit.” “Otherwise, where are you going to find the energy to chase after pretty boys?” I was already out the door when I heard Mara’s bewildered voice. “What the hell? Did she come here just to yell at me for thirty minutes?” “Seriously, is she insane?” I turned back just in time to see her kick one of her guys. “I didn’t lose that argument, did I? I wasn’t really on my game today.” I laughed and kept walking. Maybe it was because I was dying, but even my years-long rival seemed kind of adorable. On the way home, my phone vibrated. Mara had sent me a picture of a bouquet of roses. “You sent these??” “Yeah.” She was silent for nearly two minutes, then a flood of messages came through. Mara: “What’s the meaning of this?” Mara: “Only little girls like flowers. You think I give a damn about this crap?” Mara: “You didn’t hide a bomb in there, did you?” Mara: “Elara, don’t think sending me flowers smooths things over between us.” Mara: “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten flowers in my life.” Mara: “They’re actually pretty nice… Thanks.” Mara: “Let’s get dinner sometime.” I looked at my phone and smiled, slowly typing out a reply: “Yeah, if there’s a chance.” 14 That evening, Janice posted again. “Only 4 days left. I don’t want this to end…” “Skiing together. I love how you protect me. You’re like the father I never had.” In the video, Janice falls in the snow. Someone skis down from above, and Asher throws himself over her, shielding her with his body. The videos had been gaining traction over the past few days, and a lot of people were following along. 【omg whyyyy, why do people who love each other have to be apart?】 【His body language is screaming that he loves her, so why is he marrying someone else? Is it an arranged marriage?】 【God, my heart breaks for her. She looks like she’s always holding back tears.】 【Seriously, are you shippers brainless? The guy is about to get married and he’s doing a ‘breakup countdown’ with his ex. He’s trash and she’s a homewrecker. They deserve each other. Feel bad for the bride.】 The comment section was a warzone. But mostly, it was full of people waiting to see how the drama would unfold in four days. I had no patience for their melodrama. I swiped past the video. And gave a ‘like’ to the next video of a hot guy dancing. 15 Three days left. I treated the crew to dinner. They had no idea what was going on; they just assumed it was my bachelorette party. Bottle after bottle was emptied, and the mood grew rowdier. Everyone reminisced about the old days. Someone brought up Asher and me. “Seriously, Ash loves you so much. For real.” The speaker was rail-thin but was nicknamed “Tiny.” “One time, he got wasted and just cried for hours. He said he hated himself for not protecting you. He said sometimes he’s scared to even come home because seeing you reminds him… that he’s the one who turned you into this.” He sighed. “But… but I thought about it for a long time, and I think you should know.” “Elara, Ash is keeping a girl on the side. He…” Someone kicked him under the table. “Dude, how much have you had to drink?” “Ma’am, Tiny’s drunk. I’m gonna take him home. You guys keep going…” Tiny was dragged away. No one else believed him; they all just thought he was drunk and talking nonsense. The table erupted in a chorus of stories about how much Asher loved me. Someone, emboldened by alcohol, even called him. “What’s up? Spit it out.” Asher’s voice came through on speakerphone, sharp and clipped, but with a slight upward tilt at the end of his words. My heart clenched. I knew that tone all too well. It was the sound he made right after sex. “Elara’s treating us to dinner! We haven’t seen you in forever!” everyone chimed in. “Ash, you busy right now? Come have a drink with us!” Asher was silent for a couple of seconds. “I’ve got something here. You guys go ahead.” “Take care of Elara.” “And don’t let her drink too much. When you’re done, make sure a couple of you see her home safely, you hear me?” After he hung up, the guys all sighed dreamily. “See, Elara? Ash is always thinking about you.” “We’re so sick of being the third wheel to you guys!” I didn’t say anything. I took a sip of juice. It was room temperature, but it still sent a pang of pain through my stomach. I hadn’t brought my painkillers. The pain became unbearable, so I stepped outside for some air. I didn’t realize until I was out that it had started to snow. Leaning against a lamppost, I found myself, against my better judgment, opening Janice’s social media page. Maybe it was hearing so much about Asher just now, but in that moment, I had a desperate need to know what they were doing. Five minutes ago, Janice had posted a new video. He and she were standing side by side, the brilliant aurora dancing in the sky above them. “Breakup countdown: three days left! He flew us to Iceland overnight just to make my wish of seeing the Northern Lights come true.” “The lights are beautiful, but not as beautiful as him.” “But what can I do? Soon he won’t be mine anymore… Whatever. Universe, don’t worry about me, just make him happy.” “I’ll be okay.” In just five minutes, the video already had thousands of likes and was climbing fast. 【I’m crying. ‘Universe, don’t worry about me, just make them happy.’】 【For the first time ever, I actually hate the fiancée. Did she save his entire family or something?】 【Ugh, a pair of scumbags, and a comment section full of idiots. (To anyone who wants to reply: I already bought a resurrection pass for my family, my front and back cameras are broken, my pee is matte, I don’t own any mirrors, and please present your parents’ death certificates before insulting me.)】 I stared at the aurora in the video, so dazzlingly beautiful. I suddenly remembered when I was nineteen, curled up in Asher’s arms, watching a travel show with envy. “Asher, when you make a lot of money, will you take me to see the Northern Lights too?” “Of course.” “I promise I’ll take you one day.” A snowflake landed on my eyelash, blurring my vision. I blinked, and it melted. But the girl holding his hand, watching the aurora… that wasn’t the nineteen-year-old Elara.

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1 The day Dr. Adrian Vance brought his girlfriend home, my job, as head of his security detail, was to meticulously scan their personal belongings for listening devices. Suddenly, Lily Medak pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes welling with tears. “You men are all the same! We’ve been apart for one month—one month! — and you’re already keeping a canary on the side.” I, the canary in question, was speechless. Who, me? All six-foot-one, one hundred and eighty pounds of me? There was no sugar daddy footing my bills; I was drawing a government salary as a bodyguard. … Dr. Adrian Vance was a key government scientist, a national asset whose latest research had put him on the radar of hostile operatives. The state had assigned me, one of their top agents, to ensure his safety. To prevent his family from being used as leverage, I’d moved his parents and his girlfriend into the safe house with him. Full protection detail. Before I could even speak, Lily clung to Adrian, her voice rising hysterically. “Don’t even try to deny it! If this woman isn’t your little pet, then why is she living with you? And why is she going through our luggage? I’m the lady of this house! I’m your girlfriend! You think I would ever do anything to hurt you?” “I know you’re a world-renowned scientist, and I’m just an ordinary woman,” she sobbed, changing tactics. “The gap between us is huge, I have no right to question you, it’s just…” With that, she threw herself into Mrs. Vance’s arms and began to wail. Adrian’s mother immediately started comforting Lily while scolding her son. “Lily has been with you for so many years! How could you do this to her?” Adrian rubbed his temples, a deep weariness in his eyes. “Mom, what are you talking about?” he explained. “I would never betray Lily. Riley is my government-assigned bodyguard. My work has put me at the top of an international hit list. This is a necessary precaution.” Lily shot up, her voice cracking. “You’re lying! Who’s ever heard of a bodyguard who looks like that? She’s your kept woman, and you know it!” Adrian’s brow furrowed in frustration. “Kept women are for billionaire CEOs, Lily. I’m a scientist. Every paycheck I’ve earned for the last five years, I’ve sent directly to you. Where would I even get the money?” Her face was a mask of disbelief. Adrian sighed. “What do I have to do to make you believe me?” Lily lifted her chin, looking down her nose at me. “I don’t believe a word you say. I only believe what I see with my own eyes!” I had been kneeling by the door, finishing my sweep of their luggage. Now that the job was done—no bugs, no cameras—it was time to deal with Miss Medak. I slowly rose to my feet. Lily had been looking down at me, but as I unfolded to my full height, her gaze had to travel up… and up. By the time I was standing straight, she was staring up at me, her mouth agape, wide enough to fit a tennis ball. I spoke calmly. “Miss Medak. Perhaps now you can believe that I am not Dr. Vance’s… canary.” “You’re… like, six-foot-four?” she stammered, swallowing hard. I simply smiled and handed the cleared luggage to the family. A professional operative never reveals exact personal details. My silence, however, did nothing to dampen her newfound curiosity. She began circling me, inspecting me from all angles. “I mean, you’re tall, sure. But maybe he’s into that sort of thing,” she mused. “There’s no rule that says a six-foot-four woman can’t be a kept woman…” Her words left not just Adrian and me, but also his parents, utterly dumbfounded. Adrian started apologizing to me while trying to pull Lily away, but she took this as proof that he was siding with me. She wrenched her arm free and shot me a contemptuous smirk. “Did you really think you could hide your affair from me? I’m the main character in this story! I can see the chat feed!” “The chat feed told me everything! It told me you betrayed me, and that this woman is your little plaything! It warned me that if I don’t get rid of her now, you’ll eventually have my family’s empire burned to the ground and leave me for dead!” 2 Having delivered her breathless monologue, Lily’s chest heaved with emotion. Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he wanted to say something but had no idea where to start. Lily grabbed the front of his shirt. “Tell me! It’s me or her!” “Lily, for the love of God, stop reading those trashy romance novels! Burn my family’s empire to the ground? I’m a scientist, not a ruthless billionaire. And what is this about a chat feed? You’re not making any sense.” He shot me an apologetic look and tried to lead her away. But my internal alarms were screaming. Something was wrong with her. I stepped in front of them, blocking their path. “Apologies, Doctor. Miss Medak is not acting rationally. I’m going to need her to cooperate with an official assessment.” Adrian started to protest, but he met my unyielding gaze and let his hand fall from her arm. My credentials were unimpeachable; his own superiors had introduced me, and my file included protection details for world leaders. He knew better than to question my judgment. “Adrian, help me!” Lily shrieked. “Don’t let this evil woman take me! She’ll kill me! I’ll come back with a kidney missing!” Adrian didn’t move. I escorted Lily to a small, soundproofed debriefing room. No matter what I asked, she stuck to her story: I was Adrian’s mistress, and a stream of scrolling comments only she could see had told her so. Based on my training, she wasn’t lying. She genuinely believed it. After a moment’s thought, I called in a medic. The diagnosis was… unexpected. Lily had cooked herself a lunch of wild mushrooms. Apparently, she hadn’t cooked them thoroughly enough, inducing a hallucinogenic state where she believed she was seeing a live chat feed about her own life. After treatment, she returned to normal. A background check I’d ordered also came back clean. She and Adrian were childhood sweethearts, her social circle was tiny, and her only hobby was reading romance novels. She had no connections to any foreign entities. But even after the doctor explained that her “chat feed” was a mushroom-induced trip, she remained convinced I was Adrian’s canary. She took every opportunity to sneer at me, and one day, she even tried to shove me down the stairs. She seemed to forget that I was a six-foot-one elite operative. There was no way a civilian like her could move me an inch. After putting her entire body into the effort and failing to make me budge, she changed tactics, let out a yelp, and threw herself down the staircase. By the time Adrian rushed over, she was a mess of red-rimmed eyes and crocodile tears. “Adrian, don’t blame Riley! I’m sure she didn’t mean to push me!” After calling the medics, I projected the security footage onto the living room’s main screen. When the video showed the part where Lily was straining with all her might to push me, Mrs. Vance couldn’t stifle a snort of laughter. Lily shrieked, “You have cameras?!” “Miss Medak,” I stated calmly, “my sole purpose here is to protect Dr. Vance. This entire residence, excluding the bathrooms, is under 24/7 surveillance, monitored by a three-person team in real-time. I would advise you to choose your actions carefully.” Her face flushed crimson. She was speechless. After that incident, I did my best to avoid her. But today, a confrontation was unavoidable. There was a critical issue during the testing phase of Adrian’s project. I had to get him to the research institute immediately. The moment we got in the car, Lily threw herself in front of it. “Where are you two going? On a secret date behind my back?” Adrian tried to explain the urgency of the situation. Lily just covered her ears, chanting, “I’m not listening, I’m not listening!” Finally, she lay down on the pavement in front of the tires. “If you insist on taking your mistress on a date, you’ll have to run me over first!” 3 Adrian looked exhausted, the apology in his eyes deepening into profound guilt. I glanced at my watch. We didn’t have time for this. I gave a subtle look, and two of my team—both built like refrigerators—materialized and simply lifted her out of the way. Adrian opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and remained silent. In the car, he finally spoke. “I’m so sorry, Riley. I apologize for all the trouble she’s causing. When this is over, I’ll make sure your superiors know how professionally you’ve handled this.” I kept my eyes on the road, my focus absolute. As long as Adrian’s work helped strengthen our country, Lily’s petty dramas were less than a nuisance. As we approached the institute, my instincts screamed. Something was wrong. I slammed on the brakes and yanked Adrian out of his seat just as he was starting to ask what was happening. A split second later, our car erupted in a massive fireball. The force of the blast sent us rolling. I shielded him with my body, absorbing the impact as we skidded across the asphalt. I kept him pinned beneath me, my eyes scanning our surroundings for threats. “What do you think you’re doing?!” A car screeched to a halt behind us. Lily jumped out, pointing an accusing finger. “You shameless hussy! I knew you were after my boyfriend! You kept me from coming along just so you could throw yourself at him, didn’t you!” “You home-wrecking fox! I’m going to kill you!” She let out a war cry and lunged, her hand raised to slap me. The next second, I had her wrist in an iron grip. I applied the slightest pressure. “Ow, ow, ow!” she screamed. “Shut up!” I hissed. “The people who planted that bomb are still nearby. Unless you want to die, be quiet.” Thankfully, the institute was located next to a military base. Backup arrived within minutes. While Adrian was in his emergency briefing, Lily circled me like a vulture. She tried to give me a look of contempt, but because I was so much taller, she had to crane her neck to do it, which made her attempted intimidation look ridiculous. I ignored her completely. Eventually, her stream of insults dried up, leaving her parched and frustrated. Just then, Adrian emerged from his meeting. Lily immediately threw herself into his arms. “Adrian, she completely ignored me! Can you believe the nerve?” she pouted. “Look, I’ve decided that since she’s useful for protecting you, I’m willing to let her stick around. But she has to know her place, and you have to promise that you’ll always love me most. Swear to me you’ll never let her hurt me.” The other researchers coming out of the meeting stared at her, their expressions a mixture of confusion and morbid curiosity as their gazes shifted to Adrian. Adrian’s face turned beet red as Lily continued her tirade. “Enough!” He finally lost his patience. “What are you talking about? This is the 21st century! We don’t have mistresses and second wives! Stop talking nonsense!” His shout stunned her into silence. Then, tears began to stream down her face. “I knew it. You’re tired of me. It’s all about your precious canary now, isn’t it? I was willing to compromise! What more do you want from me? Do you want me to die? I just want to live my life…” Her words made no sense to the onlookers, but Adrian and I knew exactly what she was referencing. Adrian sighed, a look of grim resignation on his face, and began to soothe her. Just like that, her tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. She hugged him tightly, and over his shoulder, where no one else could see, she shot me a smug, provocative smirk. Right. She hadn’t forgotten her role in the drama. After we returned to the safe house, Adrian and Lily had a long talk. When she emerged, her eyes were red and swollen. She walked straight up to me. “Riley, I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wrong. I promise I won’t call you a canary or anything like that ever again.” I gave a curt nod, accepting her apology. For a while after that, things were quiet. Until another critical issue arose with the data, requiring Adrian to hold an emergency meeting with his research team. Given the recent bombing, it was decided the team would come to the safe house. With so many high-value targets in one place, I ramped up security protocols. All day, Lily watched me with a strange, unnerving smirk on her face. 4 My senses were on high alert, but she did nothing besides prance around her room trying on an endless series of flashy dresses. I wrote it off as another one of her episodes. The scientists had all arrived and the meeting was about to begin when Lily burst into the room. She was wearing a tight, scarlet red dress that clung to her curves. She sauntered over to the conference table and provocatively perched herself on it, right in front of Adrian, batting her eyelashes. “A woman,” she purred, “needs to be soft and delicate to earn a man’s affection.” The room was filled with serious, academic types. Jaws dropped. The female scientists looked at her with disdain, while the men awkwardly averted their eyes. “Lily, what in God’s name are you doing?!” Adrian roared, pulling her off the table. “I’m in a meeting! Get out!” She stumbled, then regained her footing and pointed a finger at me. “Why does she get to stay? You’re kicking me out, but she gets to be here? She’s your kept woman! You’re finally introducing her to all your friends, and you’re still trying to hide it from me!” Adrian froze for a second, a look of pure, soul-crushing exhaustion on his face. “Lily, I am so tired. Please, just stop making things up.” “These are my colleagues! And Riley is my bodyguard! My. Body. Guard!” He was practically screaming the last words. The other researchers began whispering among themselves, casting judgmental glances at Lily. Seeing that her little spectacle had failed, she turned her fury on me. “You bitch! This is all your fault!” That was it. My patience had finally snapped. I grabbed her by the collar and lifted her up like she was a misbehaving kitten, carrying her out of the room. She flailed wildly, clawing at the air. “Let go of me! She’s seducing my boyfriend, and now she’s assaulting me!” I remained silent. She then turned on the gawking onlookers. “What are you all staring at? You work for my husband, don’t you? Why aren’t you helping me? The boss’s woman is being attacked!” “Riley is a brute! She’s huge and has no femininity at all! You should be laughing at her! Why are you looking at me like that? You’re all just NPCs! Background characters! Stop looking at me like I’m crazy!” Finally, one of the older researchers had had enough. “Riley is doing her job. As a bodyguard, her attire is appropriate, and her formidable physique provides a sense of security. Who are you to compare yourself to her? You want to compete? Let’s see you go a round in a boxing ring with her!” Others chimed in with agreement, adding a few digs at Adrian. “You know, Adrian, brilliant as you are, you really need to learn how to judge character.” Adrian’s face cycled through shades of red and white. After the meeting, Adrian and Lily had the most vicious fight I’d ever seen between them. I watched from a discreet distance. My mission was to protect him from physical harm; verbal spats weren’t in my purview. I let out a quiet sigh. This job was not easy. The moment this assignment was over, I was taking a long, long vacation. The argument ended with Adrian roaring, “We’re done! It’s over!” Lily just stood there, stunned, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Finally, she seemed to snap. “Fine! Break up with me! Just you wait until you come crawling back, begging for my forgiveness!” She stormed off, returning minutes later with a suitcase. She marched to the front door, but when she saw that no one was stopping her—not even Mrs. Vance, who had always doted on her—she paused. “It’s so late,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll never get a cab. I guess I’ll stay one more night.” And with that, she dragged her suitcase back to her room. While I was protecting Adrian, other government agencies were working to dismantle the network of operatives targeting him. I had just received an update. By tomorrow, my services might no longer be needed. That night, I heard a crash from Adrian’s room. I burst in instantly. A broken water glass lay on the floor. Lily stood before Adrian, a triumphant, crazed look in her eyes. “You took the potion I gave you! Now, you have to do everything I say!”

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A picture surfaced of my girlfriend of five years, award-winning actress Ava Stone, spending the night with a mysterious man. To protect this man, an actor named Ethan Reed, she posted an intimate photo of them on her social media, officially confirming their relationship. Her caption read: “Waiting for the leaves to fall, for the winter wind, for the autumn fireworks, and for a better us. From start to finish, I have only ever loved one person.” I stared at the photo, at the man whose face was a near-perfect mirror of my own, and a chill spread through me, cold and absolute. All these years, I had been nothing but a stand-in. Ava called me almost immediately. “Ethan just returned to the country; we can’t let his reputation take a hit,” she explained, her voice rushed. “This is just for work, a PR move. Don’t take it seriously.” I replied, my own voice flat, “It’s fine. I understand.” My lack of reaction seemed to confuse her. “You’re not jealous today?” she asked, a note of suspicion in her tone. … Less than thirty minutes after she hung up, Ava was home. I expected her to continue her explanation, but she didn’t. She acted as if nothing had happened, handing me a beautifully wrapped gift. “See if you like it. I picked it out especially for you.” It was a Patek Philippe watch. Expensive. I’d heard of the brand. She often brought me small gifts when she came home, but never anything like this. Perhaps she knew this time was different. Before, a piece of cake, a hug, even just a smile was enough to soothe me. But today, not even a million-dollar watch could erase the blankness from my face. I just said a quiet, “Thank you.” A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. She could sense something was wrong, deeply wrong. But she didn’t dare bring up the announcement with Ethan—her guilty conscience wouldn’t let her. Instead, she changed the subject. “Liam, I’m starving. Could you make me some of your chicken noodle soup with wontons?” The wontons were pre-made, but the chicken broth had to be simmered for hours. Any other time, the mere mention of her craving would have sent me rushing to the kitchen, happy to cook for her, no matter how much trouble it was. But today, I felt nothing. No desire to please, no desire to cook. “There’s bread in the fridge. You can have that if you’re hungry.” “Liam!” My detached tone finally broke her composure. “Can you stop being so childish?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea how many appearances I canceled just to come home and deal with you? Can’t you be more understanding about my job?” “No,” I cut her off. I looked up, my eyes as still and dark as a midnight lake. “Ava, let’s break up.” Even after days of mentally preparing for this, the words still felt like a punch to the gut. A dull ache spread through my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I forced them out. This ridiculous, secret relationship had gone on for five years. It was over. We were over. I couldn’t stand waiting for her in this empty apartment anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing her name linked with other men in the tabloids. I couldn’t stand loving her anymore. I was tired. At the word “breakup,” Ava’s face went white. A look of pure, unadulterated shock and panic crossed her features. Before she could say anything, I opened the door and walked out. Since getting together with Ava, I’d become a recluse, my life revolving around her schedule. I hadn’t seen my friends in ages. So, when an invitation came, I went. After a few rounds of drinks, they noticed my distraction. I told them we’d broken up. “Broken up? When did you even start dating someone? How did you meet?” The rapid-fire questions threw me back to a summer in middle school, the summer I met Ava. I was being bullied for getting the highest grades in the school. They’d locked me in a bathroom stall. That’s where I found her, just as trapped and miserable as I was. In that moment, our shared fate seemed to bind us together. After middle school, she moved to another city with her divorced mother, but we never lost touch. Five years ago, after I graduated from college, I moved to her city to be with her, to support her career. That’s when we finally became a couple. But she knew. She knew. Ethan Reed was the one who bullied me back then. The rowdy chatter of my friends pulled me back to the present. I pointed a lazy finger at a poster on the wall. “That’s her,” I said with a bitter laugh. “My girlfriend of five years.” The poster was an ad for Ava and Ethan’s new movie. She’d fought to get him the leading role. They were pressed close together, their eyes locked in a smoldering gaze. They looked perfect. My friends roared with laughter. They thought I was drunk and joking. “You’ve had too much to drink, man. That’s Ava Stone, the movie star. No way she’s your girlfriend!” The laughter grated on my ears. The alcohol and the poster made the world feel blurry and unreal. I didn’t bother explaining. I just tipped my head back and drained my glass. The burn of the liquor was a welcome distraction, a mix of sorrow and resignation. As I lowered my head, the door to our private room opened. Even with the baseball cap pulled low, the sunglasses, and the mask, I recognized Ava instantly. She gave a small nod to the stunned room, a silent greeting, and then pulled up a chair, sitting down beside me. With everyone but me, she had this natural, icy aloofness. “What are you doing here?” My voice was polite but distant, creating a chasm between us. She frowned, but her tone was gentle. “I have some free time. I wanted to spend it with you.” My face remained cold. “You don’t have to do this. We’re breaking up.” “I don’t agree to the breakup,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You’re just jealous. You want us to go public, right? Fine. I’ll give you what you want.” She stood up, picked up my glass, and her voice regained its usual confident, almost arrogant, tone. “Hello, everyone. I’m Liam’s girlfriend.” “We’ve had to keep our relationship quiet because of my work. I hope you can understand.” As my friends stared in disbelief, she raised the glass to her lips. Before it could touch them, I snatched it from her hand. “That’s enough, Ava.” “We’re already broken up.” The glass hit the table with a thud, rolled twice, and came to a stop. Ignoring the tears welling in her eyes, I turned and walked out. Drunk and stumbling, I ran out into the dark street. The night, thick with the smell of alcohol, seemed to swallow me whole. My thoughts were a mess. I kept seeing Ava, glass in hand, and the tightness in my chest returned, making it hard to breathe. Ava never drank. She hated the taste of alcohol. But I remembered seeing a video, leaked by the paparazzi. She was drunk, leaning heavily against Ethan Reed, raising her glass to a table of producers. “Please, just give Ethan a chance,” she was slurring. “He’ll do a great job.” For Ethan, she, who never touched a drop, had downed three straight shots of hard liquor. She ended the night passed out in his arms. That night was my birthday. I waited for her all night, a cake sitting uneaten on the table. She never came home. She called later, her excuse ready. “It was the wrap party for the new movie. All the producers and directors were there. I couldn’t get away. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” But Ava, I don’t need you to make it up to me anymore. The moment I saw her in Ethan’s arms, five years of love shattered. My heart felt like it had turned to ash. Ava chased after me. “Liam, don’t be angry. It’s just a professional relationship, I swear…” she pleaded, her voice carrying to my friends who had followed us out. I just replied flatly, “I’m not angry. It has nothing to do with me anymore.” “Stop denying it, Liam. You’re only doing this because you’re jealous of Ethan.” “I’ve explained it a thousand times, those rumors are part of my job. If it bothers you that much, I’ll go clear things up right now. Just please, don’t break up with me.” She kept talking, always using her career as an excuse. She would never admit that her heart had ever strayed. Suddenly, I found her desperate, lie-filled pleading utterly pathetic. I shook her hand off, hailed a cab, and left without looking back. I had just gotten home when I received a termination notice from my company’s HR. “Liam, it was a decision from the top. There was nothing I could do.” The HR rep sounded apologetic. “I heard someone’s pulling strings to get you out. Did you piss someone off?” I’ve always been an easy-going person. I don’t make enemies. But if the company was going to fire me over something like this, so be it. I didn’t rely on that paycheck anyway. As soon as I hung up, an unknown number called. I answered. A man’s voice sneered, “How does it feel to be fired, Liam?” I recognized it immediately. Ethan Reed. So, he was the one behind this. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. A wave of pain and hatred washed over me. “You’re a worthless leech who can’t even hold down a minimum wage job. What right do you have to be with Ava? I suggest you crawl back into whatever hole you came from.” “As long as I’m around, you’ll never find another job in this city. I guarantee it. Hahaha.” His laugh was manic, a stark contrast to the gentle, sophisticated image he projected on screen. He sounded like a demon from hell. Just like he did in middle school. No matter what mask he wore, he was still disgusting. I let out a cold snort, cutting off his grating laughter. “Is that so? Then you’re going to lose.” This was a bet Ethan was destined to lose, spectacularly. For me, a nine-to-five job was just a way to pass the time. It didn’t matter if I had one or not. Back in college, I wrote a novel under a pseudonym. A famous director bought the film rights, and that was the start of my screenwriting career. Several of the biggest hit TV shows in recent years were from my pen. At my request, my real name was always kept hidden, replaced by the pen name ‘Serenity.’ Other than a few top directors I worked with, no one knew my true identity. Not even Ava. The next day, I went to the office to finalize my departure. When I got to my desk, it was empty. All my personal belongings were gone. Then I saw them, piled in the trash can next to my desk. I didn’t need to guess who did it. A cold smile touched my lips. I grabbed a nearby vase and strode toward the director’s office. Ignoring the shocked gasps of my colleagues, I kicked the door open and smashed the vase at the director’s feet. He slammed his hands on his desk and shot to his feet, enraged. “Liam, don’t push it!” “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for crossing Ethan Reed. He made it clear he doesn’t want to see you here. Our hands are tied.” The company had just signed Ethan as the face of their new product. Of course, they wouldn’t risk offending him over a low-level employee like me. I didn’t bother arguing. It was their loss. Smashing the vase had vented most of my anger. As I turned to leave, the director’s secretary rushed in. “Sir, Ava Stone’s agent just called. She’s interested in being the spokesperson for the new product, but she has one condition…” The secretary gave me a complicated look. The director’s eyes lit up. “Whatever it is, we’ll meet it. At any cost.” An opportunity to work with a star of Ava’s caliber was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. “Her only condition,” the secretary said, her voice barely a whisper, “is that her boyfriend, Liam, be put in charge of her entire endorsement campaign.” The room fell silent. Everyone stared. Even I was momentarily stunned. When we first got together, Ava had been adamant about keeping our relationship a secret. We were never to be seen together in public. In five years, we were never seen together. My family, my friends, no one knew she existed. She never came to any of my social gatherings. Last year, when my grandmother was dying, her last wish was to meet my girlfriend. I called Ava, crying, begging her to come, just for a few minutes. Even though she could hear the sobs in my voice, she hesitated for only a second before refusing. “Liam, you know my situation. I can’t…” After that, I never asked again. I never thought she would use her influence, as my girlfriend, to help me with my job. But I didn’t need it anymore. Ava’s star power dwarfed Ethan’s. Hearing her condition, the director’s sycophantic smile returned. “Liam, my boy! Why didn’t you tell me you had this connection?” “What happened before was my mistake. Don’t hold it against me. How about this? I’ll make you the project lead for this campaign, effective immediately. And a triple bonus at the end of the year.” I just looked at him, my face a mask of indifference, and threw my ID badge on his desk. “Sorry. I quit.” I turned and walked away, leaving a room full of stunned colleagues in my wake. The main office was already buzzing. As soon as I stepped out, my coworkers swarmed me. “Dude, Liam, you’ve been holding out on us! Ava Stone is your girlfriend?” “She just updated her social media! She cleared up the rumors with Ethan Reed and announced she’s in a relationship with you! And… she’s on her way here, in a wedding dress, to propose!” Before I could process what they were saying, someone shoved a phone into my hand. On the screen, Ava was dressed in a stunning white gown, her makeup elegant and cool. She stared into the camera, her deep eyes seeming to pierce through the screen and lock with mine. “Liam,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “Are you ready to marry me?” Half an hour ago, Ava had posted a clarification. She revealed our five-year secret relationship. She posted candid photos of me cooking, a few snapshots from our life together. In a long, heartfelt caption, she explained that the ‘relationship’ with Ethan was just a joke, the result of a lost bet. She said she had only ever had one boyfriend. Me. My breath caught in my throat. My heart was a tangled mess of emotions. Ethan had immediately commented on her post: “Big sis Ava is a woman of her word! It was all a misunderstanding. Hope you’re not mad, bro-in-law!” The comments section exploded. Fans were furious, accusing Ava of toying with their emotions. Many still insisted that she and Ethan were a better match. Only a few offered their congratulations. I didn’t know how Ava had convinced Ethan to play along with this charade, but while the rest of the world was swooning, I was painfully sober. I had once dreamed of this day, of being able to hold her hand in public, to be acknowledged. But now, all I felt was a hollow emptiness, the quiet calm that follows a storm of disappointment. Within minutes, the story of a top actress proposing to her civilian boyfriend went viral, hitting number one on every trending list. Reporters and bloggers started live-streaming, following Ava as she, holding a bouquet, made her way to my office. Her fans had already gathered outside, clearing a path for her. The live stream crashed from the sheer volume of viewers. Before I could fully grasp the situation, a roar of excitement came from outside. Ava was here. She pushed open the doors, breathless, a bouquet in her arms. Her eyes found mine across the crowded room, and a smile touched her lips. The wedding dress was beautiful, accentuating her every curve. Even with her hair slightly disheveled and her face beaded with sweat, she was breathtaking. The media scrum followed her in. In an instant, every camera, every eye in the room was on me. Ava walked slowly toward me, her eyes shining like stars. She held out the flowers. “Liam,” she asked softly, “will you marry me?” Despite her calm demeanor, I could hear the slight tremor in her voice. The room erupted. Everyone was looking at me with envy. “Wow, being proposed to by a huge star in public… he’s so lucky.” “He’s just a regular guy. What did he do to deserve her?” As the whispers of envy swirled around me, my mind raced through the past five years. All the intense love I once felt had been slowly eroded by one disappointment after another. In that moment, I was terrifyingly clear-headed. Sensing my hesitation, people started clapping and chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” But under the expectant gaze of the entire nation, I calmly shook my head. “I’m sorry. I won’t.”

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The second month my boyfriend was missing, I saw him on the street. He was holding court with his friends, that familiar arrogance draped over him like a designer jacket. “Missing? Of course, I’m not missing,” he said, a smirk in his voice. “My girlfriend’s just way too clingy. Time to teach her a lesson.” Then he dropped the line that stopped my heart. “I’ve got Owen covering for me. She doesn’t suspect a thing.” Owen. His best friend. I pretended I heard nothing. Later that night, back in my apartment, a man wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Any news about him today?” Owen asked, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. “No,” I whispered, turning to kiss him, my voice full of manufactured sorrow. “Nothing.” “I think he might really be gone.” 1 It was the second month of Caleb’s disappearance when I saw him. He was with his crew, looking just as infuriatingly self-assured as ever. “Caleb, man,” one of his friends said, clapping him on the back. “This whole ‘going missing’ act… we barely get to see you either.” “Can’t be helped,” Caleb replied, his tone lazy and careless. “Claire was getting way too possessive, always needing to know where I was. Had to teach her a lesson.” “How’d you even come up with a plan like that?” “That was all me,” a girl next to him chirped, her eyebrows raised in triumph. “You think he has the brains for a move this brilliant? Please.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re the genius,” Caleb said, his smile indulgent as he looked at her. I knew her. Chloe. The only girl in Caleb’s tight-knit circle of friends. “But isn’t this a little extreme?” someone else asked. “You think Claire won’t get suspicious?” “Nah, I’ve got Owen running interference for me. It’s solid.” A wave of understanding passed through the group. “Oh, right. With Owen vouching for the story, who’d ever doubt it?” “Mr. Dependable himself.” Chloe let out a dismissive little scoff. “It’s not about Owen. It’s because Claire is an idiot.” I waited for Caleb to defend me. For a flicker of protest. Instead, he leaned in and murmured to Chloe, “It’s true. She’s got nothing on you.” The rest of the group started hooting and catcalling, as if this was a familiar routine. “Dude, just get with Chloe already and stop messing around with other girls.” “Nah, I don’t eat where I shit,” Caleb shot back. “Get lost,” Chloe retorted. “As if I’d ever want you.” They traded insults like playing cards, but under the table, their legs were brushing against each other in a lazy, intimate rhythm. Finally, as they were winding down, someone asked the question that was burning in my own mind. “You can’t stay ‘missing’ forever, man. When are you planning on going back?” Caleb’s smile was pure confidence. “I’ll wait,” he said. “I’ll go back when Claire has completely lost her mind looking for me.” 2 I was on my way to the police station to finally file a missing person’s report. I changed my mind. Instead, I went to the grocery store and bought all my favorite snacks. Then I treated myself to a long, luxurious afternoon at a spa. It was dark by the time I got home. The apartment was unlit, and I figured Owen had already left. I had just slipped off my shoes when a pair of arms slid around my waist from behind, pulling me against a hard chest. My body went rigid for a second. “Have you been drinking?” Owen didn’t answer directly. “Where were you today? You didn’t answer my calls.” “Sorry, I didn’t check my phone.” “Any word on Caleb?” “No,” I sighed, letting my voice fill with exhaustion. “Nothing.” He held me tighter, his breath warm on my neck. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t pushed him to go on that stupid hike, he wouldn’t be gone.” He sounded genuinely remorseful. He would have been convincing, too—if the warm tip of his tongue hadn’t grazed my earlobe. Owen was one of Caleb’s best friends. After Caleb vanished, they had their roles perfectly cast. Caleb was the victim, hidden in the shadows. Owen was playing the part of the guilt-ridden friend. But Caleb, it seemed, had no idea just how… dedicated his friend was to the role. His method of repentance was… unique. 3 Owen was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, from a family whose wealth and influence dwarfed Caleb’s. To the outside world, he was cool and aloof, almost untouchable. That’s how I’d always seen him, too. In all the time I’d been with Caleb, Owen and I had barely exchanged more than a few sentences. After college, I landed a job at a company that, by sheer coincidence, was one of his family’s many assets. That made him my boss’s boss’s boss, or something like that. The distance between us felt even greater. It was only a month ago, when the news of Caleb’s “disappearance” hit, that we got closer. I was a wreck, and Owen, as the one who had organized the hiking trip, was consumed with guilt. He insisted on taking care of me in Caleb’s absence. But his care was… meticulous. He cooked all my meals, personally delivering them to me. It made me deeply uncomfortable. “Owen, you can’t blame yourself,” I’d told him. “Caleb loves hiking. He was planning on climbing that mountain anyway, with or without you. His parents don’t blame you, and neither do I. You should get back to your own life. You really don’t have to—hey, put that down!” I lunged across the room, snatching my lingerie from his hands. “I can wash these myself!” His expression was utterly serious. “I get things cleaner. Are you sure?” “Positive!” I was so flustered at the time that I didn’t notice him hiding his hand behind his back, rubbing his fingertips together in disappointment. The moment I realized the full extent of Owen’s other side came late one night. I got up to use the bathroom and found he was still in my apartment, asleep in the guest room. I was about to ask him why he hadn’t left when I peeked through the cracked door. He was shirtless, his back lean and muscled in the dim light. In one hand, he was holding my black lace camisole. His other hand was obscured by a nightstand. Under the soft, yellow light, the muscles in his back were pulled taut, the veins on his forearm standing out. He was completely still. The sight was so shocking, a small gasp escaped my lips. Owen’s head snapped around. The instant his eyes met mine, he tilted his head back, a low, guttural sound vibrating in his throat. 4 I had discovered Owen’s secret. And just like that, I was in his trap. I knew I should have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have allowed the hugs, the kisses. But I couldn’t stop myself. Maybe it was because when I was crying my eyes out for Caleb, Owen was the only one there, a silent, steady presence by my side. But there was a bigger reason. For weeks, I’d suspected Caleb’s disappearance was a sham. What kind of parents learn their son is missing and not only refuse to file a police report, but actively stop me from doing it? What kind of friends lose one of their own and just keep partying, living it up as if nothing happened? All those nagging doubts were finally confirmed today. They had all conspired to put on a play for my benefit. And Owen was a star performer. Back in the present, he still wouldn’t let me go. “Did you make dinner? I’m starving,” I said, my voice tired. “It’s ready. All your favorites.” “Go heat it up.” “Okay.” Owen went immediately. The fact that I was ordering him around didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. After we ate, I slipped off the camisole I’d been wearing under my sweater and tossed it to him. “Wash this.” Owen froze. “You want me to?” “Yeah. I’m too tired tonight.” He looked like he’d just been given a prize. He cradled the piece of silk and disappeared into the bathroom. I knew he’d be in there for at least twenty minutes. With him out of the way, I picked up his phone from the coffee table. Just as I suspected, Caleb had a burner phone and a private group chat to stay in touch with everyone. In the early days, he’d actually asked about me. [Caleb]: How’s Claire doing? [Owen]: She cried a lot today. [Caleb]: Don’t worry about it. That’s just her, always crying about something. It’s so annoying. Thanks for keeping an eye on her. [Owen]: When are you going to end this? [Caleb]: ? [Owen]: If you don’t like her, just break up with her. You don’t have to play with her like this. [Caleb]: I do like her. I just hate how she’s always on my case, not even letting me go out for a drink at night. Chloe was right. A little scare will make her more obedient. Owen hadn’t replied to that. A notification dinged at the top of the screen from another group chat. The name caught my eye. Princess Chloe and Her Three Servants. 5 [Princess Chloe]: Fresh tea, everyone! One of Claire’s coworkers saw her crying at the office again yesterday! [Servant #1 Caleb]: I heard. [Princess Chloe]: See? My methods work. You owe me dinner for this, Caleb. This was the group chat for Caleb and Chloe’s little crew. There were four guys in their circle. Three of them were labeled as “servants.” The one who wasn’t was Owen. His name was just his name. I remembered Caleb telling me once that Owen had joined their group later than the others. I never knew why. I figured with his family’s money and connections, Caleb and the others probably made a point of recruiting him. Owen rarely spoke in the group chat. It was mostly Caleb fawning over Chloe. [Servant #1 Caleb]: Owe you dinner? How many dinners do I already owe you? I literally gave you a credit card. Claire used to flip out about that all the time. [Princess Chloe]: That’s what’s so funny. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Who the hell is she to get jealous? eyeroll.jpg She’s just jealous that I have so many guy friends. Caleb sent a sticker of a knight captioned “Protecting my princess.” [Caleb]: Alright, don’t be mad. From now on, you get first pick of any gift I buy for her. How’s that, Your Highness? [Chloe]: Hmph. That’s more like it. I felt sick. I scrolled up, reading through weeks of their exchanges. It was a constant stream of flirty banter. Every single time Caleb had been late for a date with me, it was because of Chloe. The night I was sick with a fever, alone in an urgent care clinic with an IV in my arm, he was with Chloe. Even the Valentine’s Day gift he’d given me… it was what was left over after Chloe had taken what she wanted. … A new message popped up. It was a private chat from Caleb to Owen. [Caleb]: Hey, something else I just remembered. I typed back in Owen’s clipped style: [?] [Caleb]: That night of Chloe’s birthday a couple of months ago, when I got wasted… I ended up crashing at her place. Make sure you never let that slip. [Caleb]: Remember, I was with you that whole night. Got it? My fingers moved slowly across the screen. [What happened between you two?] [Caleb]: Ugh, I thought we agreed not to talk about it? [Caleb]: Both of us are just pretending that night never happened. [Caleb]: It’s the only way we can still be friends. 6 Owen came out of the bathroom. The camisole was clean. His expression was calm, but the corners of his eyes were still flushed a faint red. I smiled at him. “Did you have fun in there?” Owen blinked, caught off guard. Even though I’d caught him, and even though we’d shared kisses and embraces, we had never taken the final step. “Did you,” I started, pointing at the camisole, “get anything on it?” “…I washed it all out. You can check.” “Don’t worry,” I said, my eyes raking over him. “I’m not judging.” He was six-foot-two, with a body that was close to perfect. By any physical measure, he was miles ahead of Caleb. “I might need you to wash a dress for me in a little bit,” I said softly. “What?” Owen looked down at me, confusion in his eyes. He didn’t understand what I meant. Not yet. I slipped out of my clothes, stood on my toes, and pressed my lips against his. “Owen,” I whispered against his mouth, my voice a breathy, tragic thing. “I think Caleb might really be gone for good.” I pulled back, my eyes wide and pleading. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 7 After that night, all I had to do was crook my finger, and Owen would come. We had a chemistry, a silent understanding that I’d never had with Caleb. Owen was attentive to my needs, my pleasure. The entire experience was on another level—more intense, more satisfying. Honestly, the two of them weren’t even in the same league, physically or otherwise. I almost regretted not taking this step sooner. Why had I wasted so much time on a ghost? Owen didn’t suspect a thing. I had deleted Caleb’s incriminating chat history from his phone. Whenever I got the chance, I’d borrow his phone to check the group chat. In the last few days, I had stopped my frantic search for Caleb, and he was starting to panic. He tagged everyone in the group. [Caleb]: What’s going on? Why did Claire suddenly stop looking for me? [Friend 1]: Chill, man. She’s probably just tired. Give her a break. [Caleb]: No way. She would never give up, no matter how tired she was! [Caleb]: Should I go back? [Princess Chloe]: HOLD ON! You have to keep this up a little longer. If you go back now, it was all for nothing. [Caleb]: I can’t. I have to go see her tomorrow. [Princess Chloe]: Are you an idiot, Caleb? I worked hard on this plan for you. You can’t just ignore it. What does that make me? [Princess Chloe]: I’m a woman, I know how her little mind works. She probably heard a rumor and is trying to bait you into showing yourself. [Princess Chloe]: Just watch. I’ll take care of her. Caleb went silent for a moment. In the end, he caved. [Caleb]: Fine. I’ll listen to you. But even so, he was still worried. That night, he called Owen. The call came through right as I had climbed on top of Owen, straddling him. The screen showed an unknown number. I answered it myself, holding the phone to Owen’s ear. “Hey, man,” Caleb’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Sorry to bother you, just… had to check in. What’s going on with Claire lately?” Owen, thinking I couldn’t hear, answered in a thick, distracted voice. “She’s… she’s fine.” “Whoa, dude, what’s with your voice? You got a girl over there?” “…How can you tell?” “I just know, man. You sound happy. Did I interrupt something? You gotta bring her out and introduce us sometime—” Caleb didn’t get to finish. I leaned in close to Owen’s ear and spoke, my voice clear and demanding. “Are you done? Pay attention.” The phone went dead silent. When Caleb spoke again, his voice was completely different. “Owen, who the hell is with you right now?!” 8 The question jolted Owen out of his haze of passion. He quickly fumbled for the volume, turning it down as his voice regained its usual cool composure. “Just a girl. You don’t know her.” “But… that sounded exactly like Claire.” “You heard wrong. Look, I gotta go. Don’t call again.” Owen hung up. He rolled over, pinning me beneath him, a playful glint in his eyes. “Now, where were we? I promise to be much more focused this time.” “Forget it. Aren’t you worried Caleb’s on his way over here right now?” Owen froze. I continued, “He’s probably been hiding out at that suburban house his parents own, right? That’s only a thirty-minute drive.” “You… you heard him?” “Owen, I’ve seen him. In person.” His expression shifted into something complicated. It took him a long moment to process it all. “So you’ve known all along,” he finally said. “That he wasn’t missing.” “Yes.” “And you’re not angry?” “I was. But I got over it pretty quickly. Getting angry at someone like him is just bad for my health.” The day I saw Caleb on the street, I hadn’t stormed over to confront him. I didn’t scream or demand to know why he had deceived me. What would have been the point? He was already rotten to the core. You can’t expect a dog to cough up anything but filth. I looked at Owen. “And you? Don’t you have anything you want to say?” Of everyone in their little crew, Owen was the only one who had voiced any objection to the ‘fake disappearance’ plan. I was genuinely curious what had made him agree to it in the end. “I owed him a favor,” Owen said, and it was like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He told me everything. “Caleb helped me out with something big a while back, and he used that to guilt me into this. But it doesn’t matter. I never should have lied to you. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I’m actually glad you were part of this.” “What do you mean?” I reached out, tilting his chin up so he was looking directly at me. A slow smile spread across my face. “How would you feel about betraying them and becoming my accomplice instead?”

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Three years after my best friend vanished, eighteen skeletons were found under Riverbend City’s streets. One victim had 180 stab wounds. In her hand was a folded note: “Don’t be afraid. I’ve just gone home. If you can’t hold on, you can come home, too.” The System’s alarm blared: [Affection meters for Family/Romance at 10%. Recommend immediate self-termination.] That night, I put on my wedding dress and sent my suicide note to the family group chat. My fiancé, comforting my adoptive sister, replied: “Insane?” My actress mother screamed calls: “Apologize to your sister!” My cop brother accused: “You’re tormenting Lucy by wearing that dress!” No one mentioned the suicide note. They didn’t know I wore the dress not to marry Dan, but to lure the serial killer who murdered my best friend—to escape this 25-year prison of a world. Only my lawyer brother guessed: “Vera, you figured it out. That body… it was Thea’s. Her note was for you, wasn’t it?” I didn’t reply. Clutching my best friend’s photo, I walked toward the hotel, plainclothes officers trailing behind. 1 I sat in the back of the wedding limo, the officers disguised as my bridesmaids and groomsmen looking at me with complicated expressions. “Are you absolutely sure about this? To draw out the ‘Bridal Butcher,’ you could die.” “I know Captain Shaw’s career is on the line with this case, but you don’t have to risk your life…” “This has nothing to do with Leo,” I said, my voice flat. They didn’t look convinced, assuming I was still angry with my brother. One of them offered, “I should give the Captain a call. A situation this dangerous, he should be here with you.” I watched him dial, a faint, bitter smile touching my lips. When the call connected, he started, “Captain, Vera is going in as bait for the Butcher today. It’s going to be extremely dangerous, you should…” He was cut off. The line went dead. A moment later, my own phone began to ring. I answered, my face a blank mask. Leo’s voice, raw with fury, exploded from the speaker. “I used to think you were just spoiled and selfish. I never thought you’d stoop this low, that you’d throw away all your morals just to force a wedding.” He was breathing heavily, his teeth clenched. “Not only are you pushing your own sister to the brink, but now you have the nerve to get my colleagues to lie for you, to say you’re acting as bait? You’re trying to make us feel sorry for you, to guilt us into letting you marry Dan, is that it?” “Vera, you’re just like your birth mother—a manipulative slut who only thinks about men! How dare you use a case this important for your own sick games!” His voice was a blade of ice. “Get over here right now and get on your knees and apologize to your sister! Tell everyone that you and Dan are over. That you’re a desperate homewrecker trying to steal your sister’s fiancé!” I listened, my hand tightening into a fist. When he compared me to my birth mother, the world went dark for a moment. He was the one who had read the case files. He had seen how she stood by and did nothing while my adoptive father, Mark, snuck into my room night after night. He knew that when I had screamed and fought and threatened to call the police, she had smashed a vase over my head, leaving a permanent scar above my eyebrow. Back then, his hands had trembled as he gently traced that scar, his eyes red. He had sworn to me in that same fierce tone, “Vera, I’ll make every single person who ever hurt you pay.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “My birth mother,” I said calmly, “is Lucy’s biological mother. According to you, she should be the one who inherited those traits. After all, she’s the one pretending to be crazy to steal her sister’s fiancé, isn’t she? And you’re all just helping her do it.” Silence on the other end, then the sound of Lucy’s frantic sobs. “Vera, I didn’t mean to… I’m sick, I don’t remember everything, I didn’t know about you and Dan…” “Mom, Leo, Dan… I didn’t know my illness would make Vera so unhappy. Maybe it would be better if I just died…” Then, my mother’s voice, sharp and furious. “That’s enough, Vera Shaw! If you have a shred of decency left, you’ll get over here and apologize this instant! If you don’t, we are done! We will disown you!” There was a commotion, and the phone was snatched away. It was Dan. His voice was cold, impatient. “Vera. Cancel the wedding. Get over here and kneel before Lucy and apologize. If you don’t, I’m calling off the engagement.” I lowered my eyes, my voice perfectly steady. “Alright.” Then I hung up. The officers in the car exchanged uneasy glances. No one suggested calling my brother again. The limo pulled up to the hotel. The moment I opened the door, a sickening stench hit me. Eggs, rotting fruit, and some unknown liquid splattered across my white dress. I stumbled backward, nearly falling as hands shoved me. “Slut! Stealing your own sister’s fiancé! And you have the nerve to force a wedding! Using the Butcher case to get sympathy? We’ll teach you a lesson today!” “Her own mother, a beloved actress, was driven to tears by her! A daughter like this should be beaten to death!” It hit me then. My mother had livestreamed our phone call. They were pulling my hair, kicking me, trying to force me to my knees. Someone was tearing at my dress, holding up a camera to capture my humiliation. “Apologize to your sister and your mother!” “And this dress! You think a filthy woman like you deserves to wear this? Rip it off her! That’ll teach her to steal another woman’s man!” My fingers were trembling with pain, but I lifted my head and shouted, “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” The crowd roared, but then my brother’s and mother’s bodyguards pushed through, forcing them back. Leo’s voice shook with rage. “You still dare to say you’ve done nothing wrong? I told you not to use your relationship with Dan to upset Lucy! Why did you insist on this farce of a wedding? Why are you so desperate for attention?” But as he got closer and saw me clearly, he froze. My dress was in tatters, barely covering me. My body was covered in bruises and scrapes, my forehead and skin smeared with the stinking filth they had thrown. He instinctively reached out, trying to wipe the mess off me. He turned to our mother, his voice low, struggling for control. “How could you livestream that call? How could you lead these fanatics right to her? What if Lucy had gotten dragged into this?” For a second, there was a flicker of pity in my mother’s eyes. But at the mention of Lucy, her face hardened. “She brought this on herself. She deserved it.” I took two steps back, avoiding his touch. “I didn’t come here to force a wedding,” I said evenly. “Whether Dan wants to break our engagement or marry Lucy has nothing to do with me. I’m here as bait. To catch the Butcher.” My mother’s face went pale. Before she could speak, my brother’s hand cracked across my face. His expression was a storm of fury and something else—panic. “I warned you not to use this case, a case involving the lives of dozens of girls, as a ploy to manipulate us!” He took a deep breath, his expression turning to ice once more. “You’re just like your friend Thea—no conscience, no morals!” “She betrayed my brother, took his money, and ran. And when she got scared of being caught, she planted that fake note on a real victim’s body, trying to fake her own death! I keep telling Liam that body isn’t Thea, but that idiot actually believed it. He’s been drinking himself into a stupor instead of working the case!” The crowd started jeering again. “Thea? Wasn’t she that gold-digger who ran off with all that money a few years back? I remember her nudes were all over those shady marketplace sites, selling for less than a dollar, hahaha!” “A bitch like that, obstructing a murder investigation. She should be dead.” My fists clenched, my heart feeling like it was being ripped apart. Three years ago, Thea had found proof that Lucy was faking her amnesia. But before she could give it to me, she disappeared. Right before she vanished, those photos of her were posted online. I remember her crying, begging my brother Liam, her fiancé, to help her sue. But Liam, the golden boy lawyer who had never lost a case, just sat there in court, silent, and let her lose. As they left the courthouse that day, he had dropped his charming facade and sneered, “This is what you get for messing with Lucy. This time it’s just photos. Next time, you’ll be on a black market auction block, a toy for some men in a third-world country.” That night, Thea cried in my arms for hours. The next day, she was gone. I spent three years searching for her, while Liam just scoffed whenever I brought it up. “She’s just playing games, trying to get me to chase her. Let her play. We’ll see how long she can hide.” Until… the bodies of the Bridal Butcher’s victims were found in that abandoned basement. And the System in my head finally delivered the news of Thea’s death. My Thea. Murdered by the Butcher. The System had also delivered my verdict. My decade-long quest to win the affection of my family and my fiancé was a complete failure. It told me to kill myself, to leave this world immediately. But I chose a different path. I would use my death to get justice for those poor girls. … Dan strode toward me, his face grim. “If you insist on defying us, then fine. As you wish. The engagement is off.” I nodded, took out my phone, and posted a public statement. —My engagement to Dan Croft is hereby terminated.— I held up the phone for them to see. “Is this good enough for you?” All three of them were stunned into silence. Dan stared at me in disbelief. Then he gritted his teeth. “Fine. Then you’ll get rid of the baby, too. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll cause with it later.” I touched my stomach, a sad smile on my face. “The baby’s already gone.” The words had barely left my lips when Dan lunged, grabbing my shoulders. “What are you talking about? How could you? How could you get rid of our baby without even talking to me?” He had every right to be shocked. He had seen how much I wanted this child. My pregnancy had been high-risk, and I had endured countless hormone shots that left my stomach bruised and purple. I had forced down bowl after bowl of bitter medicine to fight off the nausea. I, a doctor who believed in science, had even placed a statue of a fertility goddess in our bedroom, praying to it every day. I wanted this child because, in my other life, I was an orphan. I had always yearned for a family, for someone connected to me by blood. But I also knew that if this child was born into a world where it was unloved, just like me, its life would be a torment. Dan, in his shock, assumed I’d had an abortion. His eyes were shattered. He forgot completely why he had come here, grabbing my hand and trying to drag me to a hospital to confirm it. Just then, a cry came from behind us. It was Lucy, her voice high and shrill. “Dan, isn’t this supposed to be our wedding day? Why are you holding her hand? Why is she wearing a wedding dress?” “Vera, did you call me here just to show me Dan betraying me? I hate you! I hate you both!” She turned and ran, sobbing, straight into the street. My brother shouted her name. My mother slapped me again. “What did you call her here for? Are you not happy until you’ve driven her completely insane? If anything happens to Lucy today because of you, we are finished!” “Dan, stop her!” Dan threw my hand away. I fell backward, the gravel tearing through what was left of my dress, scraping my knees raw. I sat on the ground, a bitter smile on my face, and watched them all run after Lucy. I had seen their backs turned to me like this so many times before. When I first came to this family, there had been a brief, beautiful time. Mom would cook for me, smiling. Leo would buy me ice cream after school. Liam would pull me into his room to play his favorite video games. Everything changed the day I started dating the boy next door, Dan. Lucy started having episodes. She would cry and scream that I was threatening her, that I was going to send her back to my abusive adoptive parents. “Vera said it’s not fair!” she would wail, tears streaming down her face. “Why should she have to suffer while I get to live her good life? She said she’s going to make my life a living hell, too!” At first, they would try to soothe her. Mom would say, “That’s not possible, darling. Vera would never say that.” Leo would defend me. “She’s a good kid.” Liam would add, “You must have misunderstood her, Lucy.” But over time, my mother and youngest brother started to side with her. During Lucy’s tantrums, they would turn on me, their faces cold. “When are you going to stop? Do you enjoy tormenting her like this?” “We never should have brought you back. You’ve ruined this family.” Back then, Leo would still stand up for me. He told them about my volunteer work, helping girls who had been abused. “How could a kind person like Vera say something so cruel? Mom, you’re being unfair!” He would take me out of the house, away from the tension. Once, on my birthday, Lucy threw a massive fit, forbidding me from celebrating. Leo just came and picked me up. He bought me a cake and used his own money to buy me a white dress. “It’s your birthday tomorrow,” he said, ruffling my hair. “I’m taking you to Disneyland. Don’t think about any of that other nonsense. I will always believe you, Vera. I’ll always be on your side.” But it all ended the next day. I had taken the day off from work to surprise Leo. On my way home, my adoptive father, just released from prison, cornered me in an alley. It was a dark, damp place that smelled of peeling paint and mold. He dragged me into the shadows, snarling, “You little bitch. You dared to call the cops on me. I’ll teach you a lesson.” I struggled, but he kicked me to the ground. He snatched the cake box from my hands and stomped on it, the cream and frosting mixing with the grime on the pavement like a pool of blood. He beat me until I was dizzy, tearing my new dress. In that moment, I felt like I was back in that hell I had escaped from. When I came to, I ran to find my brother, clutching my wounds. He was sitting outside a hospital room. I threw myself at him, crying, “Leo, help me…” Before I could finish, he slapped me. It was the first time he had ever hit me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the hospital room, forcing me to my knees in front of Lucy’s bed. “I can’t believe how good you are at pretending,” he spat, his voice laced with disgust. “You actually paid that animal to attack your own sister!” Tears streamed down my face. “No… it wasn’t me…” But he didn’t believe me. He just looked at me with cold disappointment. “I can’t believe they turned you into this. Now Lucy’s had a complete breakdown because of you! You will spend the rest of your life atoning for this, Vera. You will live with this guilt forever.” My mother stood by, her face blank. Even Dan looked at me with cold eyes and said, “I’m so disappointed in you.” After that, he spent almost every day with Lucy, saying he was making amends on my behalf. For the longest time, I thought my adoptive father had lied to get revenge on me. Until Thea overheard Lucy on the phone with a friend. She was laughing. “Of course I’m fine! It was all an act. A little bit of money and that old drunk was happy to play along. I told you, she’s nothing. All I have to do is cry a little, and the whole family believes me.” When Thea told me, I just went numb. … I snapped back to the present. I pushed myself up from the ground and started walking toward the hotel. I’d only taken a few steps when Leo ran up and grabbed my arm. “You did this on purpose!” he roared. “You called Lucy here just to trigger her! She almost got hit by a car, and now she’s fainted from shock! You’re coming to the hospital with us, and you’re going to kneel by her bed and beg for forgiveness! We’ll decide whether to let you go when she wakes up!” I struggled, but he was too strong. He dragged me to his car. A voice in my earpiece crackled to life. “Target’s gone dark. Stand down for now. No need to enter the hotel.” I let out a long sigh. “Roger that,” I whispered, and turned off the device. They took me to the emergency room where Lucy had been admitted. Leo pushed me toward the door. As it swung shut, I spoke, my voice quiet. “Leo, I never told anyone I was going to the hotel in my wedding dress. I didn’t call anyone to meet me there. And I certainly didn’t call Lucy.” “This time, will you believe me?” He just frowned, pushing me impatiently. “Enough with the excuses. Just do as you’re told and apologize. If Lucy forgives you, Mom and I will let this go.” A bitter smile touched my lips, the last flicker of hope inside me extinguished. I turned and walked into the ER. The moment the door closed, a sharp pain shot through my neck, and the world went black. When I woke up, I was tied up in a musty warehouse. The air was thick and smelled of mildew. Lucy was lying next to me. Her eyes fluttered open, and she immediately started cursing. “Mark, you old fool! Are you senile? I told you just to knock her out! Why did you drug me too?” She tried to sit up but found she was tied. “I told you it was just an act! You were only supposed to tie her up! Why am I tied up? This manicure cost me three grand a nail! If you mess it up, can you afford to pay for it, you old bastard?” As she was ranting, something was thrown into the room. Lucy’s eyes focused on it, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream. It was a body, hacked to pieces. It was my adoptive father, her biological father, Mark. A stooped figure emerged from the shadows, a sinister smile on his face. The System’s voice was cold in my head. [This is the Butcher.] Just as Lucy started begging for her life, the doors burst open. A team of armed police officers stormed in. “Release the hostages, or we’ll shoot!” My brother was at the front, his eyes blazing. “Let my sister go!” he roared. “And I’ll make sure they leave your body in one piece!” Dan heard Lucy’s cries and shouted, “I’ll give you three hundred million! Just let Lucy go!”

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1 In the final days of my life, I grew to despise my daughter. If not for her, I could have lived a life of wild freedom—I wouldn’t be dying young, worn out from exhaustion. So I began to torment her. I made her cook, clean, and serve me endlessly. I watched coldly as she cut her finger chopping vegetables, blood beading like a red jewel. I grabbed my cane and struck her hard across the back. “Are you really this useless?” I snarled. “Can’t you do anything right?” Finally, I called my ex-husband. “Come get your daughter. I can’t handle her anymore.” But Claire dropped to her knees, her voice trembling. “Mommy… are you sending me away?” I clenched my jaw and nodded. “Yes. I don’t want you anymore.” Heartbreak swept over her young face. She couldn’t understand—in the time I had left, I had something far more important to do. I was going to become Ethan Knight’s greatest regret. The one love he lost forever. When Ethan walked through the door, his eyes swept the room, a deep frown forming on his face. His gaze landed on me, cold as ice. “Is this what you call a ‘good environment’ for our daughter?” he demanded. “You let Claire live in a place like this?” I was lounging on the sofa, casually eating a slice of apple Claire had just handed me, the picture of lazy contentment. Ethan’s frown deepened. “My God, Elara, you have no shame! If you didn’t want to take care of her, why did you fight so hard for custody?” “To make your life hell, of course,” I said with a shrug. “You left me for Stella Locke without a second thought. Why should I let your daughter have a good life?” My careless words hit their mark. Ethan’s control snapped. He slammed his fist into the wall, his voice raw with anger. “I was right about you, Elara! You’re nothing but a lazy, self-indulgent parasite!” “That huge settlement I gave you when we divorced—I bet you didn’t spend a dime of it on Claire. You blew it all on yourself, didn’t you?” My breath hitched, and my fingers dug into the armrest of the sofa. Ethan’s voice pressed on. “And now that the money’s gone, you’re tired of playing mom? Or is this just another ploy to squeeze more cash out of me, using Claire as bait?” He looked down at our daughter, at her worn-out clothes, and his eyes blazed with fury. “You’re overthinking things,” I said, popping the last piece of apple into my mouth. “I’ve had Claire for three years, and frankly, I’m done.” “The kid’s got a difficult personality, no sense of gratitude. She’s always causing trouble for me at school.” “And she’s slow. A total nightmare to teach anything to. Her grades are a disaster.” “I’m not wasting any more of my life on her. You take her. You always adored her so much, didn’t you?” I added, a saccharine smile on my face. “Or are you afraid Stella won’t let you bring Claire home?” Ethan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Elara, you carried her for nine months. She’s your own flesh and blood. How can you say such horrible things about her?” I let out a small, bitter laugh inside. “I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s the truth. Claire is not an exceptional child. Maybe… my genes dragged her down. So I’m giving her back to you. Maybe you can do a better job.” Ethan’s chest heaved, his face flushed with rage. He turned and knelt, taking Claire’s hand. His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the venom he’d directed at me. “Claire, sweetheart. Daddy’s taking you home.” Instinctively, Claire pulled her hand away and took two steps toward me. I held her gaze, my expression unyielding. For a heartbeat, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—a question, a plea. Then, she turned back, took Ethan’s hand, and looked up at him. “Daddy,” she said softly, “I’ll go with you. But… will you be good to me?” I saw Ethan’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nodded fiercely. His head snapped back toward me, his voice thick with hatred. “Elara, I want you to stay out of Claire’s life. You stay away from my daughter. A person like you doesn’t deserve to be a mother.” He pulled Claire with him, storming out and slamming the door so hard the floorboards rattled. The moment they were gone, my body gave out. I collapsed over the side of the sofa, vomiting up the apple and everything else in my stomach. After a long moment, I closed my eyes, breathing through the nausea, and dialed Ethan’s assistant. “Mr. Davis,” I said, my voice weak. “When Ethan and I divorced, how much was the settlement he arranged for me?” The man on the other end went silent. The pause stretched, heavy with guilt. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Ms. Croft… I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Mr. Knight gave you a million dollars in cash and a luxury condo. But… Ms. Locke intercepted it all.” “The Locke family is powerful. They threatened my job, my family… I’m just an employee, Ms. Croft. I’m truly, deeply sorry…” “I understand,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t blame you.” “But I need you to tell Ethan the truth when the time is right. You owe that to me, and you owe it to Claire.” Another long silence. Then, a quiet, resigned, “Yes.” I hung up and let my body sink completely into the sofa cushions, my mind drifting. My story with Ethan was painfully simple. I loved him, and he loved someone else. I’d adored him from afar for three years, and when his perfect Stella Locke went abroad to study, I saw my chance and took it. We married, and soon we had our beautiful daughter. For a while, the way Ethan looked at me grew softer, warmer. Just when I thought we were building a real life, his perfect girl came back. What followed was the oldest story in the book. A forced divorce. But unlike in the novels, there was no grand, regretful gesture, no dramatic chase to win me back. The only surprise was that in the three years since we’d split, he and Stella had never married. I never doubted Ethan’s love for Claire, but his affections were fickle. With Stella constantly whispering in his ear, I couldn’t risk our daughter’s future on a gamble. And I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the child I’d fought so hard to bring into this world all alone. So when we divorced, I fought for her. I had a job; I could support us. This apartment wasn’t the hovel Ethan made it out to be. It just wasn’t the Knight family mansion. My thoughts grew hazy, and I drifted off, only to be jolted awake by the shrill ring of my phone. Ethan’s voice was a low growl, laced with icy fury. “You’re a monster, Elara.” “You dared to abuse my daughter?” “She’s just a little girl! How could you hit her? The nanny saw the bruises on her back when she was giving her a bath. Even she was in tears.” “And you… you’re her mother. How could you be so cruel…?” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a second, I thought I heard a sob. Suppressing my surprise, I answered calmly, “I was just trying to teach her a lesson. She’s so clumsy, she never learns.” “Bullshit!” he roared. The vulgarity was so unlike the polished gentleman he always tried to be that a small, genuine laugh escaped my lips. “You think this is funny? I’m telling you, Elara, I won’t let you get away with this!” He hung up. I waited for his revenge. But three days passed, and all I got was a call from my boss telling me I was fired. I just smiled. It didn’t matter. What’s a job when you only have a few days left to live? Two weeks later, I came home from a hospital appointment to find Ethan waiting outside my door. This time, he wasn’t shouting. He just watched me, his expression searching, confused. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice hesitant. “Elara… do you even know our daughter?” “Claire is sweet, she’s obedient, and she’s been top of her class every single year. Why would you say she’s a terrible student?” “At first, I thought you just didn’t care enough to know. But I heard you never missed a parent-teacher conference. Her teacher said you were always asking about her progress.” “So, Elara,” he asked, his eyes locking onto mine, “why did you lie?” I lowered my gaze, my mind racing. Then, I looked up and gave him a mocking smile. “Does it matter what I say, Ethan? When have you ever believed a word that came out of my mouth?” He flinched, a flicker of memory crossing his face, and his expression soured. “Remember when Stella moved into our house right after she came back?” I pressed on. “She knew she was allergic to shellfish, but she told me she was craving seafood risotto and begged me to make it for her.” She had made a show of praising my cooking right in front of him, then collapsed, gasping for air. No matter how much I tried to explain, Ethan was convinced I’d done it on purpose. “You can’t stand to see her happy, can you, Elara? Do you have any idea how dangerous an allergy can be? Your jealousy has made you into a pathetic, irrational monster!” His harsh words used to feel like daggers. Now, I felt nothing. “Remember when she tore her gown for the gala and blamed me? I explained, the housekeeper even backed me up, but did you believe me?” The color drained from Ethan’s face. “The day you took her to that art exhibit overseas, she paid off one of the counselors at Claire’s summer camp to call me and say Claire had gotten lost on a hike in the mountains.” “I drove out there in the middle of the night. Someone ‘guided’ me deep into the woods until I was completely lost. I nearly died out there.” “And when I told you what happened, what did you say?” He had looked at me with a flash of surprise, then immediately dismissed it. “That’s impossible. I was with Stella the entire time. When would she have had the time to arrange all that?” His excuses were pathetic then, and they were pathetic now. But I knew that once Ethan Knight made up his mind, nothing could change it. Unless… “Some things, you have to find out for yourself. You’ll only believe it when you see the proof.” My voice was cold, detached. He stood there in a long, heavy silence as I unlocked my door and stepped inside. Just as I was about to close it, I heard him whisper, “I’m sorry.” “I didn’t know Stella kept the settlement money from you. I’ll make it right.” I offered a dismissive smile. Money was the last thing on my mind. But one thing was critically important. In the time I had left, I would become Ethan’s other great love. The one he could never have back. A ghost that would haunt him forever. If he wouldn’t mourn me out of love, I would force him to mourn me out of guilt. Every woman knows the devastating power of a love lost to death. Only then would he truly, endlessly love my daughter. Only then would he shut his heart to any other woman who tried to get close. I admit, my plan was selfish and cruel. But I had no regrets. Inside, I swallowed a handful of the new painkillers, forcing down the wave of nausea. Then I picked up a pen and wrote in my journal. A week later, a frantic pounding echoed through my apartment. I opened the door and was violently shoved inside before I could even see who it was. The door slammed shut behind them. Five or six people stood in my living room. Leading them was Stella Locke. Her expression was more arrogant than ever, but her eyes burned with a raw, hateful fire. “You’re clever, Elara, I’ll give you that. Actually convincing Ethan to look into what happened three years ago.” “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? We were about to get engaged!” She stepped forward and her hand flew, striking my face with a sharp crack. I could have dodged it, but I took the full force of the blow. A bright red handprint bloomed on my cheek. I lowered my head, feigning fear, but a secret smile touched my lips. The slap seemed to have calmed her slightly. “Don’t get too smug,” she said, her voice regaining its composure. “So what if Ethan knows the truth? All I have to do is sweet-talk him a little, and he’ll come running back to me.” “Just like before. He abandoned you for me once, he’ll do it again.” She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “And after I marry him, I’ll be sure to take very good care of your precious daughter.” My head snapped up. I shoved her with all my might, sending her stumbling back. Rage contorted her beautiful features. “Teach her a lesson!” she shrieked. Rough hands grabbed me, forcing me to the floor. They held metal rods, and they brought them down hard on my back. After just a few blows, Stella called them off. “I’m not going to give you a chance to play the victim for Ethan,” she purred, looking down at me. “It’s just a few hits. You can handle that, can’t you?” With that, she and her thugs swept out of my apartment. I lay on the floor, unable to move for a long time. But inside, my heart was pounding with a wild, triumphant excitement. I had been trying to figure out how to lure her here, and she had walked right into my trap, playing her part perfectly. I let out a raw, broken laugh. With trembling arms, I pulled myself up and wrote the final entry in my journal. Then, I emptied the entire bottle of sleeping pills into my hand and swallowed them all. Don’t blame me for this, Stella. I no longer cared about her and Ethan’s twisted love story. But if she hadn’t stolen the money Ethan meant for me, I wouldn’t have had to work three jobs just to give my daughter a decent life. I wouldn’t have destroyed my own body in the process. This was a debt she owed me. I was never a good person to begin with. A mother who would strike her own child is destined for hell. What’s one more sin on my soul? Claire, my darling, Mommy can’t watch you grow up, can’t see you blossom into a beautiful woman, can’t be there for the spectacular life you’re going to live. But with my own life, I will buy you a ticket to a better one. With that last thought, my world faded to black.

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