Category: English

After I started high school, my mom gave me a ten-thousand-dollar monthly allowance. My desk mate, consumed by envy, tricked me into swapping our souls. She ran towards the luxury town car, ecstatic. “A rich mommy! You’re all mine now!” I quietly slung her worn-out backpack over my shoulder, got on the back of her mom’s electric scooter, and let out a silent sigh of relief. Thank God. I’m finally free of my mother. 1. Just before the last bell, Marie Jensen handed me a smoothie. “It’s my first time buying you something. I saved up for two weeks to get the most expensive one. I hope you like it.” I hesitated for a moment before taking it politely, sipping it a couple of times. It was strawberry, my favorite. “Thanks, it’s really good.” The words had barely left my lips when a flash of white light blinded me. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at myself. We had swapped bodies. “Marie, you—” “Shh,” she hissed, her eyes gleaming with triumph from inside my body. “You’re Marie now. From today on, I’m Anna Sterling. And the rich mommy? She’s all mine.” 2. Staring at the ecstatic new me, it all clicked. A few weeks ago, she’d borrowed money for a smoothie and had accidentally seen the seven-figure balance in my bank account. She’d stared, counting the zeroes over and over. “Anna, how do you have so much money?” “My mom gives me ten thousand a month. It just adds up.” “Your mom… she’s so rich. What does she do?” “She owns a few companies.” “Wow, that’s incredible! You’re so lucky!” Marie had complained between sips. “My mom’s a stay-at-home mom, and she’s so cheap. She only gives me five dollars a day for lunch. That’s why I had to borrow from you.” I listened quietly, my eyes fixed on the smoothie in her hand. The truth was, I envied her. Because after I turned ten, I never had another smoothie. And I never tasted happiness again. 3. After that day, Marie constantly told me how sick she was of her mother, how much she wished she could be my mom’s daughter. I thought it was just a passing fantasy. I never imagined she would actually use a soul-swapping trick to steal her. “Just accept it, Anna. We can never switch back.” While I was still in shock, Marie—in my body—downed the rest of the doctored smoothie and sprinted towards the black town car that picked me up every day. Watching her giddy figure disappear, I slowly shouldered her old backpack, found her mom’s electric scooter in the crowd, and felt a wave of relief wash over me. Thank God. I’m finally free of my mother. 4. “Marie, honey, you look happy today. Did something good happen?” Marie’s mom handed me a helmet. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, just an old black jacket and worn-out sandals. She looked thin and tired, but her eyes, as she looked at me, were incredibly gentle. “Yeah. A problem I couldn’t solve just… figured itself out.” I fumbled with the helmet, getting the strap tangled. Seeing me struggle, her mom immediately parked the scooter and carefully adjusted it for me. She didn’t scold me, just affectionately tapped my nose. “You’re acting like a little kid. Hop on.” I got on the scooter, a strange warmth spreading from where her fingers had touched my nose. Ever since I was ten, I had lived on my own. My mother was always busy, flying all over the world. She never picked me up from school, never allowed me to waste time with something as frivolous as affection. We hadn’t touched in years. Our interactions were like those between a CEO and a subordinate: she gave orders, and I executed them. If I performed well, she transferred money. If I didn’t, there were punishments. The memory of those punishments sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, a fear so deep it felt etched into my bones. It’s okay, I told myself. You’re Marie now, not Anna. You’re not going to die. 5. Marie’s apartment was even smaller than I’d imagined. The living room was cluttered, with children’s books and toys piled on the sofa. Right, Marie had mentioned she had a little sister, not even three years old. “Marie, are you still mad at me?” Her mom placed a shoebox on the coffee table. “Those shoes you wanted? I scraped the money together and bought them for you. See? Are these the ones?” I opened the box. Inside was a pair of knock-off Loro Piana loafers. I knew they were fake because just last week, my mother had bought me the real ones, with strict instructions to wear them to school on the fifteenth of every month. I hated them, but I had numbly followed her command. Marie had noticed them that day, looked up the price, and had been in a foul mood for the rest of the day. “Marie? Did I buy the wrong ones?” Her mom’s gentle, hesitant question pulled me back. I looked into her hopeful eyes, and a warmth bloomed in my chest. “No, it’s just… a classmate has the same pair. Could I maybe pick a different style?” “Of course, sweetie. Here’s my phone. Add what you want to the cart. I’m just going to run next door and pick up your sister.” She handed me her phone and left. So, she had to leave her younger daughter with a neighbor just so she could pick up her older one. A girl Marie’s age could easily take the bus. She didn’t have to do this every day. Was it to save the two-dollar bus fare? I looked at her phone. It was an old model, three years out of date, with two cracks across the screen. The lock screen and wallpaper were both photos of Marie and her little sister. It was clear her mom was frugal with herself but lavished love on her children. How nice, I thought. A mom this good is finally mine. 6. Because I chose a cheaper pair of shoes and patiently read stories to my new little sister, Marie’s mom made a huge platter of sweet and sour pork to reward me. That night, for the first time, I ate what I wanted. I took as much as I wanted, not following the rigid, timed, and portioned meal plans my mother enforced. The perfectly balanced nutritional and body-sculpting meals of my adolescence were cold and clinical. Shrimp flown in from Argentina held none of a mother’s warmth; it couldn’t compare to the love cooked into the food in my bowl. “Marie, what’s wrong? Don’t you feel well?” “No, it’s just… Mom, your cooking is so delicious, I don’t want to finish it.” “Silly girl. If you like it, eat up. I’ll make more for you tomorrow.” She scraped the remaining pieces from the platter into my bowl, leaving none for herself. My eyes stung. The broken pieces of myself, shattered for so long, slowly began to mend. So this is what it felt like to be loved by a mother… Like a spring breeze, a winter sun. But just as I thought I could slowly pull myself out of hell in this warm and loving home, Marie’s mom got into a terrible fight with her husband. Over me. 7. Two in the morning. The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the living room. Marie’s mom slipped out of bed. I was a light sleeper and woke up just in time to hear a man’s angry voice from outside our door. “She’s a teenage girl! Isn’t five dollars enough for lunch? Why does she need more?” “Marie likes meat, and a single hot dish is almost five dollars now. Sometimes she needs to buy school supplies, too. It’s really not enough.” “If she’s so expensive, maybe she should just drop out and go sell herself!” Silence. My heart hammered against my ribs. Sell herself? He couldn’t mean… I couldn’t believe a father could say something so vile. “Joe, three years ago, you asked me to quit my job to have a second child. You promised five hundred a month for the household. Two years ago, you cut it to three-fifty. This year, you’re only giving me two hundred. Just give me the three-fifty, and I’ll cover the increase in her lunch money.” CRASH. The sound of something shattering. Her husband had lost it. “All you three do is ask for money! You couldn’t even give me a son! Why should I spend three-fifty a month on you? For that much, I could keep a girl on the side!” Another suffocating silence. I thought that after being humiliated like that, she would surely demand a divorce. But she said nothing. She just came back into the room, her shoulders slumped in defeat. I quickly shut my eyes. She didn’t notice I was awake as she tucked me in, then sat beside the bed, crying silently in the dark. In that moment, I finally understood why Marie had so desperately wanted a rich mother. 8. In the morning, Marie’s mom apologized, telling me the neighbor couldn’t watch my sister, so I’d have to take the bus. “I transferred twenty-two dollars to your account. Two for the bus, twenty for lunch.” “I thought it was fifteen…” Last night, her husband had refused to give more. “You’re a growing girl. You can’t skimp on food. An extra five dollars a day is nothing. I’ll cover it.” She gently stroked my face. “Marie, don’t deny yourself at school. Buy whatever you want to eat.” The calluses on her fingertips felt rough against my skin, a little itchy, a little painful. I couldn’t help but hug her. “Thank you, Mom.” She stiffened for a second, then gently patted my back. “You’re acting so different lately,” she murmured. I snapped back to reality. I hadn’t expected her to notice something was off so quickly. I practically fled the apartment, pulling out my phone once I was safely outside. A flood of messages from Marie popped up. 9. [The etiquette tutors just praised me. Said I’ve improved a lot.] [I got three ‘excellents’ in my public speaking class. You probably couldn’t even get one, right?] [My therapist is so cute, lol. She actually told me to ‘get more sunshine.’ My life is so perfect, even if it rained every day, I wouldn’t get wet.] [Guess what? The butler just told Mom I completed all my Tuesday objectives. She was so pleased, she bought me a couture dress on the spot.] A couture dress? What was so exciting about that? My closet was full of them. Those expensive, elaborate clothes were less comfortable than my school uniform. Wearing them meant I wasn’t Anna anymore; I was “Ms. Sterling’s daughter,” an accessory at some stuffy event where my expressions and emotions weren’t my own. “Marie, your mom couldn’t drive you again today?” A girl from the next class, Hailey, called out to me. Her sympathetic voice pulled me from my dark thoughts. I managed a smile. “Yeah, she has to look after my sister.” Hailey tilted her head and linked her arm through mine. “How come you’re not mad? I thought you hated your sister.” Hated her sister? Marie’s little sister was a soft, cuddly ball of fluff. When she looked at me with her big eyes and called me “sissy” in her tiny voice, my heart melted. Why would Marie hate her? Was it about money again? 10. On the bus, I scrolled through more of Marie’s messages. [Mom is coming back next week. I’m going to tell her I want to transfer to a private school and then study abroad.] [We were desk mates for three years, so I guess we have a connection. As long as you keep all my high school secrets, I can give you a nice payoff before I leave.] At midnight, she’d sent a photo of the glittering city skyline from her new bedroom window: [Jealous? Marie, this is the penthouse you’ll never reach, the life you’ll never have.] The last two messages were from five minutes ago: [The Princess has transferred you $100.] [Marie, I just saw you waiting for the bus. Did your mom ditch you for your sister again? How pathetic. Take a taxi. I’ll wait for you in class.] I accepted the money and turned off the screen. It seemed Marie was adapting to the role of “Anna Sterling” perfectly. She could stomach the bland nutritional meals, endure the stressful private tutoring sessions, and live in that empty, lifeless house. She was the perfect daughter my mother had always wanted—a robot who followed orders with precision. My mother must have been so pleased with her performance yesterday. Wait… A cold realization washed over me. I gripped my phone, my palm sweating with fear. Marie had made three fatal mistakes. 11. I made it to school just as the bell rang. As I put my bag down, Marie, who was scrolling through videos, glanced up. “You took the money. Why didn’t you get a taxi?” I frowned, snatched her—my—phone, and quickly closed the app. “Stop watching that. You’ll get in trouble.” “What trouble? It’s just a video.” She glared at me. “Give it back.” “All your social media is monitored. The house is full of cameras. She knows everything you do.” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’ve made three fatal mistakes. With her personality, we’re both screwed.” “Mistakes? My performance last night was flawless. Even the butler didn’t suspect a thing. Who are you trying to scare?” “I’m not trying to scare you! Will you just listen to me—” “No! Marie, give me back my phone right now, or I’ll make you buy me a new one.” I was speechless. Suddenly, an arm reached over. Ryan Hunter, the class heartthrob Marie used to have a huge crush on, snatched the phone from my hand and presented it to her with a charming smile. “Anna, here’s your phone.” “Oh.” Marie took it without much enthusiasm and tossed it in her desk. Ryan lingered, blushing slightly. “Anna, everyone says you’re amazing at Go. Want to play a game after lunch?” “No, I’m busy.” She rejected him flatly, opening her English book without even glancing at her former crush. Ryan retreated awkwardly. I didn’t understand her reaction either. Just a few days ago, she was engineering “accidental” run-ins with him. Noticing my stare, Marie lifted her chin smugly. “I’m going to be the CEO of Aura Corp one day. Ryan Hunter is beneath me. To me, he’s just like you now—an insignificant grain of sand that will leave no trace on my life.” 12. I realized Marie truly saw herself as “Anna” now, and she was reveling in everything I had once despised. This was exactly what I wanted. As long as she could keep my mother fooled, we could both live the lives we desired. I tried multiple times that day to warn her that Seraphina Sterling was not the benevolent mother portrayed in the news, but a cold, ruthless monster. Marie was convinced I was just jealous and trying to drive a wedge between them. Finally, I gave up. I spent the entire afternoon writing down the one hundred and twenty-one house rules in a notebook and gave it to her. She barely glanced at it before tearing the pages to shreds. “I don’t believe you. This is just your pathetic attempt to get your life back.” “And even if it’s true, I don’t need your warnings. I’m confident I can win Mom’s approval.” “Maybe she’ll notice I’m a little different, but she’ll just think I’ve realized my mistakes and changed for the better. From now on, I’m going to be the perfect, obedient daughter.” “I’ve read your text history. I don’t get why you’d want a mother who’s just… around. I’m grateful that my mother is out there conquering the world. If she were like some stay-at-home mom, chained to her house and kids, I’d be living like a beggar, unable to even afford bus fare.” She wasn’t lying. Once, during a downpour, her mom forgot to transfer her bus fare, and she had to borrow two dollars from me. Just then, a message popped up on my phone: [Sweetie, I’m cleaning the neighbor’s house. Can you take the bus home? I made your favorite pork dumplings today. If you’re hungry when you get back, you can boil some.] Even though her mom had forgotten the bus fare again, a warmth spread through my chest. She had made dumplings just for me. 13. After school, Marie saw me heading for the bus stop and blocked my path. “Did your mom ditch you for your sister again? How pathetic. Here’s another hundred. Take a taxi.” She transferred the money without waiting for a reply and strode off toward the town car. I accepted the money, but I had no intention of taking a taxi. Marie’s family was struggling. Her mom was cleaning houses to make ends meet. I would save the money and give it to her. It was rush hour, and the bus was packed. People got on and off, but it remained crowded. I didn’t notice the man in the baseball cap who stood next to me for several stops. Until the driver slammed on the brakes. The passengers lurched forward, and the man fell against me, his hand landing on my chest. It didn’t feel like an accident. “Oh, it’s you, little lady. Sorry, lost my balance.” He seemed to know Marie and greeted me casually. I pressed my lips together and turned my back to him. I thought that would be the end of it, but then his hand snaked around my waist. “Hey, let your uncle here just steady himself, okay?” The hair on my arms stood on end. I grabbed his hand, my grip like steel. The taekwondo I had been practicing since I was a child finally came in handy. And I finally understood why Marie never wanted to take the bus. She must have been harassed by this creep before. That’s why she needed her mom to drive her every day. The moment her mom couldn’t, she was in danger again. But why hadn’t she told anyone? Why hadn’t she gone to the police? Three hours later, I had my answer. 14. It was nine o’clock by the time Marie’s mom picked me up from the police station. “Marie, go home and get cleaned up. I’ll go get your sister.” “Okay.” Her eyes were red and swollen, and a wave of guilt washed over me. I hadn’t been hurt—in fact, I’d knocked out two of the pervert’s teeth—but she kept blaming herself for not being there to pick me up. She had done her best, rushing to the station in her dirty apron, trying to stay calm and handle things rationally. But when the police said this was the man’s third offense, her composure had shattered. The gentle, soft-spoken woman had transformed into a raging lioness. She had grabbed the man by the hair, dragged him to the floor, and was about to smash a chair over his head before the officers intervened. During the ordeal, she had called her husband. His only response was: “You’re a disgrace. Get your asses home now.” I wasn’t surprised by his reaction anymore. What I didn’t expect was that the moment I walked through the door, he would charge at me and slap me across the face. “You little tramp! Always trying to seduce men! I told you to go back to the countryside and get married! Twenty thousand dollars, down the drain!” “You knocked out two of his teeth! I’m not paying a dime! You can sell yourself to pay for it! I can’t believe I’m stuck with three unlucky bitches like you!” He screamed at me, then, not satisfied, he unbuckled his belt. He didn’t care what had happened to his daughter. He only cared that she had embarrassed him. “Joe, are you crazy? It’s not her fault! That pervert was the one who assaulted our daughter!” At the critical moment, Marie’s mom threw herself in front of me. Joe just swung the belt, catching her across the face. “Useless hen! It’s all your fault for letting her go to high school! What’s the point of educating a girl? She just ends up acting like a whore!” My little sister started wailing. Marie’s mom stood there, trembling, all the fight she’d shown at the station gone. “Joe, that’s enough!” she finally managed to choke out. Her weak protest only fueled his rage. “What, Linda, you want a divorce? You willing to leave your precious little chicks? Don’t forget, you don’t have a penny to your name. The court will never give you the kids.” He raised the belt again, and she instinctively flinched, burying her head, silently enduring the abuse in front of her children rather than uttering the word “divorce.” 15. My taekwondo came in handy for the second time that day. I kicked Joe until he passed out. As I was about to deliver a more permanent blow, Marie’s mom wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. “Marie, no! You’ll go to jail! Stop, please!” My little sister clung to my pant leg, sobbing, “Sissy, hug.” I didn’t want them to keep crying. I took a deep breath and stopped. Once the house was quiet and my sister was calm, her mom started to move toward Joe. I grabbed her arm. “Mom, can you please divorce him?” “Marie, you just focus on your studies. Don’t worry about grown-up problems.” She wiped her tears and wouldn’t meet my eyes. In that moment, I felt a profound disappointment. But then, I understood the real problem.

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My fiancé and I were a 90% genetic match. The problem was, Ramond Marsden was a rebel without a cause. At our engagement party, in front of everyone we knew, he toasted me with a smirk. “I’d marry any woman I actually desired before I’d ever chain myself to an animal who loses control and does nothing but grovel at my feet.” Later, as I was writhing on the floor, my mind shattering from another Psionic Overload, a call came through from the Central Registry. “Miss Vance? A new candidate, Mr. Ewing, has just been registered with a 100% Genetic Compatibility Index. Are you interested in transferring your match?” 1 In this enlightened age of freedom, Ramond Marsden was a genetic Luddite. He’d rather mainline Stabilizers than spend a single second near me when his own Overloads hit. A simple touch of his hand—that’s all it would take to soothe the storm in our minds. But he refused. Of course, Ramond was a Marsden. His family could afford to burn money on Stabilizers. I couldn’t. A single vial of the lowest D-Class Stabilizer cost 2,500 credits. Even with the state subsidy, it was 1,000. My salary was 10,000 a month. By the time I was twenty-three, my Overloads had escalated from once a month to three or four times. The cost was crushing me. I had no choice but to enter the Genetic Matching Program. For ordinary people like me, it was the only path. A D-Class Overload felt like someone was taking a hacksaw to the inside of your skull. The pain was unbearable. A high-compatibility partner was a godsend, a one-in-a-million lottery ticket. So when the system matched me with someone not only wealthy and handsome but also a high-index match, I thought I’d won the jackpot. It felt like a dream. It turned out to be a nightmare. Ramond despised me on sight. He made his position crystal clear at our first meeting in a sterile, overpriced cafe. His hands, gloved in soft leather, rested on the table. “If my family wasn’t so damn paranoid about my condition,” he’d said, his voice tight with irritation, “I would never have consented to this barbaric process.” His family, however, was adamant. They moved me into his penthouse apartment. To my surprise, Ramond agreed to that part. Given his initial hostility, I made myself as small as possible, a ghost in his opulent life. He was the one who crossed the line first. One night, he came home and collapsed, his body convulsing from a sudden Overload. Without a partner’s touch to regulate him, his condition had degraded. He’d jumped from a C-Class to a B-Class. 2 I came home from work to find him on the floor. The moment I knelt beside him, he lunged, pulling me down with him. “Help me,” he rasped, his voice raw with a desperation I’d never heard before. He buried his face against my neck, his skin burning against mine. The brief contact was electric, a jolt of pure, primal relief. It lasted only until his assistant arrived with a B-Class Stabilizer. I expected the proud, arrogant Ramond to be mortified by his lapse in control. Instead, he started seeking me out more. He slowly let his guard down, engaging me in conversation. He’d bring me small gifts—gourmet meals, books, things that wouldn’t make me feel indebted—and I started to see a different side of him. He developed a habit of sitting at the kitchen island while I cooked, talking about anything and everything. “Did you know,” he said one evening, his voice tinged with a strange nostalgia, “that in the Old World, people didn’t follow genetic imperatives? They just… fell in love. Emotion was enough. Genes didn’t chain them together.” Before the age of eighteen, Psionic Overloads are dormant. In that window of blissful ignorance, it’s easy to fall for anyone. A bitter smile twisted his lips. “My parents were like that. A love match. They defied everyone to be together. Then, when I was sixteen, my father found a mistress. A woman with a 74% GCI. When my mother found out, she couldn’t live with it. She ended her life.” That’s when I understood. Wealthy scions like Ramond, when matched with commoners, often kept them as something on the side. A living, breathing Stabilizer. Their real lives, their marriages, were reserved for alliances with families of equal standing. Some even had multiple matched partners. He looked so lost in that moment. I stood there, holding a tray, unsure of what to say. “No wonder you hate being near me.” His eyes met mine, and for a second, he seemed to see me, truly see me. Then the moment broke, and he flashed a brilliant smile. “Let’s not talk about that depressing stuff. What’s for dinner? It smells incredible.” From that day on, we became dinner companions. We talked for hours. To honor his beliefs, to prove our connection was more than just genetic, I never once asked him for comfort. Every time an Overload hit, I quietly excused myself and used a Stabilizer. After six months, my own condition worsened. My Overloads escalated to C-Class. Four D-Class vials couldn’t touch the pain of a C-Class event. A single C-Class Stabilizer cost twenty-five thousand credits. Even with the subsidy, it was my entire monthly salary. In my most naive, love-struck year, I took on every freelance job I could find to make ends meet. I never asked him for help. I wanted to protect his principles. 3 Perhaps he saw my sacrifice. He proposed. That night, I cried until I couldn’t breathe. He slid a diamond onto my finger. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy?” “This happiness,” I sobbed, “it feels like I fought a war for it.” We didn’t even embrace, but in that moment, I felt our souls were touching. That perfect happiness lasted less than twenty-four hours. The next evening, he threw a massive party to celebrate. I slipped away to the restroom, and when I came back, he was gone. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach as I saw the predatory glances other women were giving him. I searched the entire crowded penthouse before finally finding him in the back garden, talking with his friend, Marcus Thorne. I was about to call out his name when I heard him laugh. “I told her my mother was dead. She actually bought it.” Marcus lit a cigarette, the tip glowing in the twilight. “What happens when she finds out it’s all a lie and bolts?” “Let her,” Ramond scoffed. “I never liked her anyway. She’s the one who can’t leave me now. She hasn’t had a proper soothing in months. Her savings are gone, she can’t afford C-Class Stabilizers, and she’s probably drowning in debt. After investing so much, you think she’d just walk away?” He laughed again, a cruel, cutting sound. “I never would have broken my own rule if she hadn’t come home that night. The thought of having touched her makes my skin crawl. But since she’s so pathetically devoted, I’ll keep her around. It’s not like I can’t afford it.” Marcus chuckled. “Women from the lower sectors are all the same. So desperate. They think a high GCI means we’ll fall madly in love with them.” “My mother’s plan was brilliant, though,” Ramond said, the grin returning to his voice. “I tell her my mom died, and she actually feels sorry for me.” Marcus snorted with laughter and added his own twisted advice. “While she’s broke, convince her to quit her job. Then buy her a car or a condo in her name. Just make the down payment. You dole out the monthly installments. If you cut her off, she defaults. She’ll be so terrified of losing everything, she’ll do whatever you say.” The world tilted, the manicured hedges of the garden blurring into a nauseating green smear. It was all a trap. A meticulously crafted cage. He had used himself as bait, luring me in with kindness, feeding me a philosophy he never truly believed in, all to domesticate me. To turn me into another one of his possessions. The weight of it all—the debt, the pain, the crushing betrayal—crashed down on me. My Psionic Overload didn’t just escalate. It exploded. A B-Class Overload seized my body, turning my muscles to stone. The thud of my fall caught their attention. Ramond strolled over, a vision of casual cruelty. When he saw me on the ground, he doubled over with laughter. “Oops. I guess you heard that.” The pain was a living thing, a creature of pure agony devouring me from the inside out. I curled into a ball, unable to scream. My hand, acting on pure instinct, reached for him. He crouched down, propping his chin on his hand, a smile playing on his lips. “Helen, the way you beg… you look just like a stray dog.” Through the haze of pain, I noticed his hands. They were still sheathed in those damned gloves. I had never even seen the color of his skin. When the hatred peaked, a wild thought surfaced: endure it. Survive this, and maybe you can break free from the genetic curse altogether. How ironic. The thought was a weapon he himself had given me. As the pain reached its crescendo, something inside me broke. And then, there was peace. I remembered a terrible toothache from my childhood. How did I solve it? That’s right. Terrified of the pain, I’d ripped the loose tooth out myself. And in a fit of rage, I’d pulled out the one next to it, too, even though it wasn’t ready. Ramond was my rotten tooth. But this wasn’t like losing a baby tooth. If I gave him up, the chances of finding another high-index match were slim to none. A drop from 90% wasn’t a guarantee of 89%. It could be 50%, 30%, or nothing at all. 4 After an eternity, a raw, guttural scream tore from my throat. The party guests gathered around, a circle of curious, morbid faces. Someone started taking pictures. Ramond wrapped an arm around a stunning woman in a red dress. He raised his voice for all to hear. “I’d marry any woman I actually desired before I’d ever chain myself to an animal who loses control and does nothing but grovel at my feet.” For a moment, the world went silent. The clicks of the cameras, Ramond’s mocking laughter, it all faded into a dull roar. The starlight that once seemed to hold so much promise for me dimmed to ash. Marcus nudged my hand with the toe of his expensive shoe. “Hey. They say when the love dies, the genetic pull weakens. How’s that working out for you?” A sudden downpour began, the fat drops splattering against the stone patio. The rumble of thunder drowned out my choked sobs. The spectators scattered, seeking shelter. I slammed my head against the ground, again and again, trying to knock the pain out. My wrist-comm, detecting my critical state, automatically answered an incoming call. “Miss Vance? A new candidate, Mr. Ewing, has just been registered with a 100% Genetic Compatibility Index. Are you interested in transferring your match?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. A holographic display flickered to life above my wrist-comm: CRITICAL ALERT: USER INCAPACITATED. AI ASSISTANT ‘HELEN’ WILL EXECUTE OPTIMAL DECISION. I heard my own voice, perfectly synthesized, speak from the device. “Yes. Transfer.” The AI swiftly signed the digital transfer request and dialed the new match. “Hello, is this Mr. Ewing? I am Helen Vance’s integrated AI assistant. She is experiencing a critical Psionic Overload and is incapacitated. As per the Genetic Matching Mandate, you are obligated to provide soothing assistance to your matched partner.” Unlike Ramond, this man’s voice was calm, a deep and steady baritone that seemed to absorb the chaos around me. “Miss Vance,” he said, and the words were a lifeline in the storm. “I’m on my way.” 5 Wave after wave of agony crashed over me. A strange thought surfaced, a desperate urge to expel the tormenting energy from my mind. It was a fantasy I’d had a thousand times during my Overloads, and it had never worked. But this time was different. I was floating. I looked down and saw my own body, lying still and pale on the wet stone, looking for all the world like a corpse. Above me, the sky was a bruised purple, and the rain passed right through my ethereal form. The garden lights, once blinding, were now soft and muted. Each raindrop in their glow was a thread of liquid silver. In the distance, under the eaves of the patio, the party guests whispered amongst themselves. Marcus ground out his cigarette under his heel. “You think she’s dead?” “If she is, she is,” Ramond said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Plenty of people die from Overloads. We have no legal bond. I’m not responsible for her. She should have carried her Stabilizers.” “You have a soothing obligation,” Marcus reminded him. Ramond’s smile was a flash of white in the gloom. “An obligation, yes. But her condition was severe. And I’m a shy man, Marcus. I don’t care for public displays of affection. I hesitated for a moment, and well… she died. Who’s to say otherwise?” In that instant, a venomous thought took root in my mind. I wish he could feel this. The thought was the command. In the blink of an eye, I was standing beside him. I raised my hand and slapped the back of his head. “Agh!” He cried out, clutching his skull and stumbling to his knees. Marcus stared. “Stabilizer!” he yelled at the assistant. The assistant fumbled with a B-Class vial, rushing it to Ramond’s lips. But Ramond didn’t drink. He just pitched forward, unconscious. The assistant’s face went white. “Did he… did he just escalate?” Marcus shot him a furious glare. “Impossible! It takes fifty years for a natural escalation from B-Class to A-Class!” I looked down at my hands. They shimmered with a faint, iridescent light, like mother-of-pearl. “It actually worked.” Before I could process what was happening, the wail of sirens cut through the night. An ambulance had arrived. Marcus charged into the rain, grabbing the paramedic who was heading for me. “Forget her! We have an A-Class Overload here! He’s Ramond Marsden, the heir to the Marsden fortune. Save him first!” A-Class was the threshold. Any Overload of that magnitude required hospitalization. The paramedic looked torn, glancing back at my still form. Then I saw him. A man holding a black umbrella, standing silently beside my body. He seemed to sense my gaze and looked up, directly at me. A slow, gentle smile curved his lips. “Helen,” he said, his voice carrying over the storm. “Come here.” 6 The tension that had held me together snapped. The world dissolved into blackness. When I woke, I was in an unfamiliar room. A king-sized bed with a charcoal gray duvet was pushed against a floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, a thunderstorm raged. As my senses returned, I realized I was lying on top of someone. I tried to push myself up, my hand landing on a firm, muscular arm. He shifted, his own arm wrapping around my waist to help me sit up. He pressed his cheek to my forehead, testing my temperature. “You’re awake. Are you hungry?” My head was still swimming. His calm efficiency only made me feel more disoriented. When I didn’t respond, he casually picked up a long, furry appendage and tucked it into my hands. “If you’re still tired, go back to sleep.” I squeezed the tip. It was warm. “What is this?” I mumbled. “Aren’t we in a hospital?” Why was there someone in my hospital bed? “This is my apartment. I’m your matched partner, Kaelen Ewing. The ambulance I called for you got… commandeered. I had no choice but to bring you here and soothe you myself.” As he spoke, his dark, intense eyes never left my face. It took me a moment to piece together the events before I blacked out. “Thank you,” I said, my voice hoarse. He smiled, and his handsome features became utterly devastating. “Of course. I’ll be needing your help as well, Miss Vance. I’m a recently retired Psion from the military. I sustained some injuries in the Fringe. My current Overload level is dual S-Class. I require frequent soothing from a partner.” “Dual S-Class? It’s a miracle you’re alive.” I was in awe, but also deeply curious. “Can you read minds?” “No,” he said slowly. “But I do have a very fluffy tail.” My gaze dropped to the object in my hands. It was as thick as my wrist. It was his tail. I couldn’t resist giving it another squeeze. The fur was incredibly soft, the sensation deeply comforting. I found myself stroking it, my curiosity piqued. “Are you a cat?” “Mmm… feline family, panthera genus.” His voice had dropped an octave, a low rumble in his chest. I looked up and saw him watching me, his eyes filled with an undisguised hunger. I realized then what he was doing. He was patiently, skillfully, reeling me in. Luring me into touching him, providing the physical contact that would soothe his own storm. Dual S-Class. I couldn’t even begin to imagine that kind of pain. My hand stilled. I felt his tail twitch against my palm, actively seeking my touch. “Does… does being with me help you?” He blinked, his honesty disarming. “Not enough.” Oddly enough, holding his tail was having the opposite effect on me. My anxiety was melting away, replaced by a strange, buoyant excitement. “We could… get to know each other for a while,” I suggested. “Then you can decide if you still want to marry me.” “We’re a perfect match. Why would we need to wait?” His gaze was direct, unwavering. “We can get married right now.” “Huh?” I was stunned. “Really?” Perhaps it was the 100% GCI. Being near him felt like coming home to a place I’d never been. The pain, the betrayal… it all felt like a distant, half-forgotten dream. 7 The memory of Ramond’s calculated cruelty sent a chill through me, and my mood plummeted. “But… I don’t really know you.” What if Kaelen had someone else? A woman he truly loved? What if I was just destined to be the mistress again, the high-end Stabilizer kept on the side, to be used and then put away? Kaelen’s arms tightened around me, a comforting, solid presence. “Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you.” His embrace was a fortress. I felt myself sinking into it, another carefully constructed trap of kindness. The 100% GCI was a siren’s song, intoxicating and dangerous. The scars from Ramond’s betrayal screamed at me to run, but my very genes craved the safety of his arms. My tormented thoughts were interrupted by a sharp chime. My wrist-comm projected a faint holographic screen. An unknown number. Marcus Thorne’s voice, smooth and condescending, filled the quiet room. “Where are you? I’m sending a car. Ramond wants to see you.” Still treating me like a fool. A bitter laugh almost escaped me, but the memory of how I’d fallen for their lies choked it back. “What’s the matter? Worried your trained dog slipped its leash?” Marcus sighed, a theatrical sound of weary patience. “Come on, Helen, don’t talk about yourself like that. I admit, we were out of line. But you know Ramond. He’s proud. I was just going along with him. It’s not what I really think. Can’t we just talk about this face to face?” I could practically smell the hypocrisy oozing through the speaker. A hot flush of anger rose in my chest. Just as I was about to unleash a tirade, the tail in my hand twitched. I instinctively gripped it tighter, kneading the soft fur between my fingers. The anger subsided, replaced by a cold, clear calm. If Marcus was wasting his time on me, it could only mean one thing: Ramond was not doing well. “You’re asking a lot, Marcus,” I said, mimicking his insincere tone. “As you know, I had a rather severe Overload. And I was left out in the rain.” “This isn’t the time to dredge up the past, Helen,” he snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin. His reaction didn’t surprise me, but I continued anyway. “If you were just kidding around, why did you leave me lying on the ground in a thunderstorm? Weren’t you afraid I might die?” “Of course not,” he said, the lie smooth as silk. “We would never have let that happen. We called an ambulance right away. And you know you can’t move someone during an Overload. It could have made things worse for you.”

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The game of Truth or Dare ended with me kissing the guy I’ve been secretly in love with for a year. And somehow, it gave me the ability to read his mind. After I did it, he retreated to a corner of the couch, his expression as cool and unreadable as ever. He didn’t say a word. But a voice, his voice, echoed clearly in my head. Her lips are so soft. I need to figure out a way to make her kiss me again. 1 It was a stupid party dare. The kind of thing you do in college when the music is too loud and the air is thick with cheap beer and bad decisions. I lost a round of cards, and the penalty was a dare. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled a card from the deck fanned out on the coffee table. The moment I drew it, the crowded living room erupted. My best friend, Mia, who was squeezed next to me on the couch, let out a shriek of laughter so loud it vibrated through my skull. My hand holding the card started to tremble. If she was laughing that hard, I must have drawn something mortifying. “Oh my god, Chloe! Open your eyes, you have to see this!” Mia slapped my shoulder, urging me on. Bracing myself, I opened my eyes. The words on the card made my trembling worse. 【Kiss the person next to you. Passionately.】 There were only two people next to me. On one side was Mia. On the other was Noah Evans. He wasn’t even supposed to be sitting there. Earlier, he’d claimed the cigarette smoke from across the room was getting to him and asked to swap seats with some guy. He’d ended up right next to me. The catcalls and whoops from our friends intensified. Mia put her hands on her hips, her grin wicked. “Just so we’re clear, you are not kissing me,” she declared. “Girl-on-girl is a no-go for this dare!” With that, every eye in the room landed on Noah. The noise level spiked again. My whole body went rigid. I turned to look at him, my palms slick with sweat. He sat there calmly, the dim party lights casting his face in shadow, making him impossible to read. We’d been in the same friend group for a year, but I don’t think we’d ever exchanged more than a dozen words. Kissing him felt less plausible than flying to the moon. “Chloe, this is your shot! Don’t blow it!” Mia hissed in my ear. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But how could I? As if finally sensing the weight of two dozen stares, Noah slowly looked up. His gaze drifted from me to the card in my hand. His expression remained a perfect blank. My nerve broke. “Maybe we should just skip it…” I mumbled. “I’m fine with it.” My voice died in my throat. Noah cut me off, his eyes lifting to meet mine. His face was still passive, but his voice was steady. “I don’t have a problem with it.” 2 The room exploded. Mia’s laughter reached a pitch I can only describe as demonic. Propelled by the roar of the crowd, I leaned toward Noah, my heart hammering against my ribs with every inch I closed the distance. The second my lips brushed against his, I saw his throat move as he swallowed hard. His lips were warm. And incredibly soft. I remembered seeing an anonymous post on the campus confession page once, debating who had the most kissable lips. Noah’s name had come up more than once. The verdict was that they looked like they’d be perfect to kiss. They were. The rumors were true. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, but for a split second, I thought I felt the corner of his mouth twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. Is he… smiling? My heart went into overdrive. The dizzying rush of it all was so intoxicating that it wasn’t until Mia practically fell off the couch laughing that I snapped back to reality. I couldn’t bring myself to deliver the “passionate” part of the dare. A simple, soft press was all I could manage before I pulled back so fast I bumped into Mia. “That’s it?!” she screeched, snatching the card from my hand. “Where’s the passion?” “That’s enough, that’s enough,” I mumbled, my face burning. I couldn’t look at anyone. Mia sighed with the dramatic frustration of someone whose favorite TV show just got canceled. 3 After a few minutes, when my pulse had returned to something resembling normal, I realized the spot beside me was empty. Noah had moved. He was now sitting at the far end of the sectional, alone. I watched him, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. Why did he move so far away? He looks… annoyed. What’s he thinking? He regrets it! I ruined his night! He hates me! My mind spiraled. I was debating whether I should go over and apologize when a familiar voice echoed in my ear. She kissed me. What? That was Noah’s voice. I scanned the room, but he was still in the corner, perfectly still. He hadn’t moved his lips. Did I imagine that? I stared at him, my brow furrowed in confusion. A second later, the voice came again, clearer this time. Her lips are so soft. Noah blinked, a slow, deliberate motion. I need to figure out a way to make her kiss me again. What. The. Hell? 4 I sat frozen, trying to process what had just happened, until Mia, fresh from another round of the game, nudged me. “What’s up? Cat got your tongue, or are you just blissed out?” “Did you…” I started, choosing my words carefully. “Did you hear Noah say anything just now?” “Noah?” Mia frowned, glancing over to the corner. “He hasn’t said a word since… you know.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Chloe, are you drunk?” She patted my head like I was a child. “Just chill here for a bit, okay honey?” And with that, she was dragged back into the game, leaving me to drown in my own confusion. Was I really just hearing things? It felt so real. My thoughts were interrupted by a new wave of cheering. “Alright, make way, make way! Evans is getting in on the action!” I watched as one of the guys scooted over, creating a space on the couch. Right next to me. Noah got up from his corner seat and, with that same infuriatingly calm expression, sat down in the empty spot. My heart skipped. His last thought, the one I’d supposedly imagined, came rushing back. I need to figure out a way to make her kiss me again. 5 Once the game started again, Noah was on an incredible losing streak. He had to chug his drink three times in a row. Even his friend, Ryan, looked baffled. “Dude, when did you get so bad at this game?” Noah just shrugged, his expression cool. “Bad luck, I guess. Deal me in.” Predictably, he lost the next round too. This time, though, he didn’t reach for his drink. He eyed the deck of dare cards on the table. Ryan caught his drift and, with a theatrical flourish, swept the cards into a messy pile. “Let’s see what fate has in store for my man Noah! C’mon, something good, like a lap dance for a stranger!” Noah’s face was a mask of indifference. He stared down at the cards, as if weighing a decision of immense gravity. Then, I heard it again. That voice. His voice. I have to pick the one with the crease. My eyes shot to the pile of cards on the table. A crease? Which one had a crease? He was taking his time. Ryan nudged him. “C’mon, man, pick one.” Noah’s gaze swept over the cards one last time before locking onto a single one near the edge. A flicker of something—relief?—crossed his features before being instantly erased. He reached out and tapped it with his finger. “This one,” he said, his tone casual. Ryan snatched it up, his eyes widening as he read it. A huge, knowing grin spread across his face. “Oh, man. Oh, you guys are not gonna believe this.” He held the card to his chest, milking the suspense. Mia, never one for patience, was about to lose it. “What is it? Spit it out!” “This card… this card is just…” Mia balled her fists. “Ryan, I swear to god, I will punch you!” After a few playful jabs from her, he finally gave in. His eyes darted between me and Noah, that stupid grin still plastered on his face as he revealed the grand prize. He flipped the card over. I leaned in to see. And then I froze. It was my card. The exact same one. The words 【Kiss the person next to you. Passionately.】 stared back at me. As I looked closer, I saw it—a tiny, almost imperceptible crease in the bottom right corner. My heart rate skyrocketed. Ryan nudged Noah, his voice dripping with insinuation. “What a coincidence, huh, man?” “Yeah,” Noah said, his expression completely flat as he glanced at the card and gave a small nod. “A real coincidence.” He said it, and then his eyes lifted and met mine. My breath caught. His eyes were dark, intense. He held my gaze for a few seconds in the dim light before asking, his voice quiet and even. “Is that okay with you?” 6 My brain went completely blank. Okay with… what? Was this really happening? Mia muffled a squeal, her eyes bouncing between the two of us. After a moment, she exploded with laughter and, leaning over, pushed my head forward in a nod. “Yes! Yes, it’s okay! We are all law-abiding citizens who respect the rules of the game!” Noah shot her a quick glance before his eyes returned to me, waiting. As if sensing my hesitation, he added quietly, “I was fine with it before.” The implication hung in the air. I played along for you. It’s only fair that you do the same for me. “I… I mean…” Before I could finish, a hand shoved my shoulder, and I stumbled forward, right into Noah. I gasped, but a pair of strong hands caught me, steadying me. The next thing I knew, my lips met his. Warm. Soft. I looked up and found him already looking down at me. His eyelashes were so long. From this angle, I could see them flutter as he blinked slowly. And then, the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was smiling. 7 This was going to kill me. Kissing my crush twice in one night had my heart doing gymnastics. I was suddenly wide awake, my body temperature rising like a furnace. If I stayed there one second longer, I was going to spontaneously combust. I scrambled off him and mumbled something about the bathroom, practically fleeing the room. The shock of cold water on my hands did little to cool the fire on my face. The feeling of his lips lingered, a phantom warmth I couldn’t wash away. His lips. His smile. And his thoughts. Stop it, Chloe. Just stop. I think I stayed in that bathroom for a century. When I finally returned to the living room, I overheard Ryan talking to Noah. “I don’t know, man,” Ryan said, squinting at him suspiciously. “I feel like you’ve been smiling this whole time.” Noah looked up. “Have I?” “Yeah,” Ryan insisted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ever since you ‘lost’ that last round.” He grinned, waiting for a denial. “Hm,” Noah said, not even looking up. “Guess I have been.” Ryan just stared, his mouth hanging open. The heat rushed back to my cheeks. I took a few deep breaths and found an empty corner to sit in, hoping to become invisible. The party was winding down, and people were scattered around, chatting quietly. That’s when I heard it again. How do I get closer to her? She’s sitting so far away. My eyes darted toward Noah. He was sitting on the couch, lost in thought. After a moment, his gaze landed on Ryan, who was still trying to process their earlier conversation. Noah tapped him. “Why aren’t you smoking?” Ryan blinked. “Huh? Why would I be smoking?” Noah paused for a beat. “You look cool when you smoke.” “I do, don’t I?” Ryan preened, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. But just as he lit it, Noah let out a single, sharp cough. It was just loud enough for everyone to hear. Then he stood up and started walking away. Ryan stared, the cigarette frozen between his fingers. “What the hell, man?” Noah’s voice was flat. “Can’t stand the smell of smoke. Got to get away from you.” Ryan was left looking utterly baffled. My whole body tensed. I watched, paralyzed, as Noah calmly walked across the room and sat down in the armchair directly across from me. 8 That night, I couldn’t sleep. I crawled into Mia’s bed. “Hey,” I whispered. “Can being drunk make you hallucinate?” “Like, hearing things?” Mia was more wasted than I was. She grunted from beneath her comforter. “Yeah, Chloe. What’d you hear?” I clutched my phone and leaned closer. “I heard… Noah’s voice.” “Huh?” Mia cracked open one bloodshot eye. “I heard him thinking… that he needed to find a way to kiss me.” The eye that had struggled to open slammed shut. She rolled over, her back to me, and was instantly asleep. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t believe me.” A muffled voice came from the blankets. “No… just… go to sleep. We’ll deal with it in the morning.” “Deal with what?” “Your daydreaming.” I kicked her under the covers. 9 To prove I wasn’t crazy, Mia’s plan the next morning was to drag me past Noah’s usual haunts. But we’d barely left my dorm when we heard Ryan’s booming voice. “Seriously, dude? Do we have to eat at this dining hall? It’s a million miles from our dorm.” Ryan was rubbing his eyes, looking like death warmed over. “It’s fine,” Noah’s calm voice replied. His gaze flickered toward our dorm building. “The food is better here.” Is it, though? I thought. Mia and I froze. We turned and saw the two of them heading toward the dining hall. “Well, speak of the devil,” Mia grinned, pulling me along. “Hey! Ryan! Morning!” Ryan and Mia were two of a kind. He waved back with equal energy. “Yo! Fancy seeing you here.” As Mia dragged me over, she whispered, “Okay, at breakfast, try to see if you can hear him again.” Before I could ask how we were all supposed to eat together, Mia was already asking. “Hey, since we’re all here, want to grab a table together?” Ryan was about to agree when he remembered his company. “Ah, probably not. Noah’s not really a fan of eating with… you know, other people.” “Next time,” Ryan said, patting Mia’s arm. “We’ll do it next time.” Just then, I saw Noah’s eyes flick almost imperceptibly in my direction. “I don’t mind,” he said. Ryan stared at him. Noah continued, his tone perfectly even. “I enjoy eating breakfast with people.” Ryan’s jaw dropped. 10 Ryan looked like a zombie all the way into the dining hall. He grabbed Noah’s shoulder, his voice a numb whisper. “When did you start enjoying eating with people?” Especially girls? was the unspoken question. Noah’s expression was serene. “Just now.” 11 Inside, Ryan and Mia immediately split off toward their favorite food stations. I stood behind Noah, silently deciding to just get whatever he was getting. But he wasn’t moving either, apparently still deciding. I worked up the courage to speak. “What are you getting?” He looked over his shoulder. “Haven’t decided.” Okay. After a moment of awkward silence, I gave up and headed for the pancake line. The second I moved, so did he. He followed right behind me, stopping at the same station. He ordered the exact same thing I did. And he sat down at the same table. He never said a word, but his thoughts were a constant stream flooding my mind. I want to eat the same thing she is. She looks so sweet when she’s focused. I need to figure out an excuse to eat with her again. I kept my head down, focusing on my pancakes, feeling my ears grow hotter by the second. After they left, Mia leaned in close. “So? Did you hear anything?” “…Yeah.” “For real?!” Her eyes were wide. “You can hear his thoughts? What was he thinking?” I paused, the heat rising in my face again. “He said I look sweet.” Mia stared at me. “And that he needs to find an excuse to eat with me again.” Mia looked at me like I’d just announced I was moving to Mars. “Chloe, are you listening to yourself?” 12 Mia insisted it was absurd. She was convinced my crush had metastasized into full-blown delusion and suggested a trip to the campus health center. Did Noah, with his perpetually cool and distant expression, seem like the kind of guy who would think things like that? Honestly, she had a point. If I hadn’t heard it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it either. But why was he trying so hard to get closer to me? My phone buzzed, shaking me from my thoughts. It was Mia, texting to say the results from the piano competition last month were in. I got first place. Not a huge surprise, but nice to hear. As I was about to put my phone away, it buzzed again. A friend request. With a profile picture I recognized instantly from the campus confession page. The name read: Noah Evans – Computer Science.

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The night of our graduation dinner, I took the drunk campus belle to the campus bad boy’s room. But my childhood friend mistook me for her. One night of chaos. Everyone said I did it on purpose to break them up. For years after we were married, I tried everything to win his heart, but it remained cold. Until one day, I overheard him on the phone. “As long as Beth is happy, I’m willing to waste my whole life keeping Thea tied down.” “Who would want to marry a bookworm like her, anyway?” “She wants a baby? Fine. I’ll give her one.” The harsh blare of a car horn cut him off. He spun around instinctively and saw me standing at the corner. His face paled, and he lunged toward me, trying to push me out of the way. The next second, we were both sent flying. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the graduation dinner. This time, I decided to let them have each other. 1 Only my childhood friend, Liam, knew that I had a crush on the campus bad boy, Jaxon. The night of our university graduation dinner, Beth asked me to help her to a room to rest. I didn’t know it was Jaxon’s room. And Beth was a master actress. The moment we were out of sight, she was instantly sober, a mocking glint in her eyes as she looked at me. In my past life, I was too naive to see it. I was, as everyone called me, the scheming, venomous bookworm. It wasn’t until I heard Liam’s phone call right before I died that I finally understood. He was willing to sacrifice his entire life for Beth. And I had been foolish enough to believe him when he’d proposed, when he’d told me he loved me. Before I died, Liam and I lay together in a pool of blood. When the speeding car hit, he had thrown himself in front of me, taking the brunt of the impact with his back. But it was useless. The force of the collision sent me flying. As my consciousness faded, I could just make out Liam, covered in blood, stubbornly crawling toward me despite the agony that wracked his body. The wounds on his fingers were deep enough to show bone, and his voice was a broken tremor. “Thea, don’t scare me.” “Wake up, let me explain!” “I was wrong, Thea. I was so wrong.” His heartbroken cries made me want to vomit. A torrent of blood gushed from my lips. In the final moments of my life, I found one last ounce of strength. I moved my fingers, just enough to pull away from the hand he was desperately trying to link with mine. Too late for apologies now. 2 “Thea, what’s too late?” “You haven’t had that much to drink. Come on, have another.” A voice pulled me from my memories. I realized I was back in my senior year of university. Jaxon was hosting a graduation party for our class at his family’s empty villa. For everyone else, it was the start of a new chapter. For me, in my last life, it had been the entrance to hell. The sweet, cloying voice belonged to Beth. Liam always told me I should be more like her, that even her anger sounded like a lover’s pout, irresistible to any man. I couldn’t hold my liquor, but when the campus belle offered a toast, refusing would have been a social death sentence. Unfortunately, I’d been reborn just a moment too late. I’d already downed a glass, and the world was starting to spin. So, no matter how much Beth coaxed, I refused to drink another drop. I just adjusted my glasses and pretended to be drunker than I was. I had a job to do later; I couldn’t afford to be completely wasted. Seeing my refusal, a sly look entered Beth’s eyes. She raised her own glass to the table. “If the star student won’t drink, I’ll drink the rest for her.” I lowered my head, a cold smile touching my lips. She was drinking from her own glass but claiming it was for my sake. In my past life, I’d never had an ounce of her cunning. Her words were sweeter than any song. I poured myself a glass of water and sipped it, quietly watching her performance. By now, Liam had already gotten Jaxon drunk and taken him upstairs. Liam himself had had too much and was resting in the room next to Jaxon’s. Beth’s dramatic display of drinking could only mean she had something else in mind. Soon, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were hazy. She leaned against me, her voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Thea, I drank so much for you, I’m feeling dizzy. Can you help me upstairs to rest? My life is in your hands now. You have to keep me safe, okay?” In my past life, Beth had already gotten me completely drunk. I’d only caught the last part about going upstairs to rest before she half-dragged my stumbling form up the stairs. But this time, I saw the cleverness in her words and actions. She was making it sound like it was my fault she was drunk, that it was my duty to see her safely to a room. With that one statement, she planted a seed in everyone’s mind: whatever happened to her tonight would be my fault. Her drunken, helpless state, needing me for support, only solidified her image as the innocent victim. But no one could see that, from their angle, Beth, who was taller than me, wasn’t just leaning on my shoulders. She was digging her fingers into them, her grip surprisingly strong as she steered me toward the stairs. The pain made me wince. Fine. I could play drunk too. I pretended to take off my glasses, and in that motion, I shook off her grip. Then, I went completely limp, collapsing into her arms. A head shorter than her, with a flushed, baby face, I wrapped my arms around her and whined, my voice soft and slurring, “Beth, I’m so dizzy! I can’t walk.” No one had expected this. In their eyes, Beth and I were rivals. Liam liked her, and during a game of truth or dare earlier, I had admitted that I liked him. “Oh no! The star student is really drunk,” someone exclaimed. Hidden in Beth’s embrace, I stayed silent, playing my part. Out of sight, a small smile touched my lips. My little act had startled Beth; I saw her eyes clear for a second. But she needed me to be her scapegoat tonight, so she gritted her teeth and didn’t push me away. Besides, to make her act convincing, she really had drunk a lot. She was at least eighty percent gone. I looked up at her, my hair a mess, and blinked. “Beth, let’s sleep together tonight.” 3 I had no idea what Beth was thinking, but I was serious. The only way to prevent the disaster of my past life was for her to stay with me tonight. Besides, I had lived ten years longer than this version of Beth. To me, she was just a misguided girl. Maybe something had happened to her in university that made her so desperate to land a rich boyfriend. But she wanted to maintain her good-girl image, so she’d devised this whole scheme. She wanted everyone to believe that I, jealous of Liam’s affection for her, had deliberately put her in the bad boy’s room. Her plan had been a spectacular success in my last life. The day after the party, my name became synonymous with “vicious.” Everyone blamed me, cursed me. Eventually, I started to believe it myself. I thought it was my fault, that I’d had too much to drink and taken her to the wrong room. I was the reason she’d disappeared for ten years. I was the reason Liam had lost the love of his life. So I tried to atone. I couldn’t find Beth, so I poured all my repentance onto Liam. I learned to love him, tried to warm his cold heart, begged him to stop hating me. The Liams had taken me in as a child; I owed them everything. But in the end, I was the one who had been played. Liam had been willing to throw away his entire life, to trap me in a marriage, just to keep me from interfering with Beth’s happiness. The day of the car crash, I had been on my way to tell him I’d found her. I had just learned from Jaxon where Beth had been for the past ten years. I wanted him to see her for who she really was, to stop feeling guilty for getting drunk that night and failing to protect her. But before I could say a word, we were both killed. I was so grateful for this second chance. At the dinner table, I’d been thinking about what I could do to repay this gift. I’d considered getting revenge on Beth, giving her a taste of the public shame she’d put me through. But looking at her now, so young and vibrant, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So when she’d asked me to help her to a room, I’d asked, in front of everyone, if she wanted to sleep with me. If she chose me, if she chose not to repeat her mistake, then I would let the past go. After all, this was a different timeline. I couldn’t punish this Beth for what a different version of her had done. But if she insisted on being foolish, I would respect her choice. Everyone has to take responsibility for their own actions. So, when she had me pinned between two doors, I asked her again. “It’s your decision. You can sleep here, or you can come to another room with me.” The alcohol was hitting her hard now. Her eyes were glazed over, but she shook her head, trying to stay clear. “Let me think… Oh, I can’t remember.” She tapped her head a few times. I decided to be direct. “Who do you choose? On the left is…” I was about to tell her Jaxon was on the left, Liam was on the right, and I was right beside her. But she cut me off. “I forgot who I drugged…” Her words hit me like a thunderclap. In that instant, my image of her shattered. She was like a beautiful flower, rotten from the roots up. She would stoop to such a low, despicable tactic to get what she wanted. I started to wonder if I’d been drugged too. I took a step back, putting some distance between us. I asked her again, but the answer was the same. “Either one is fine,” she said. “Doesn’t matter which.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I had to let go of my savior complex and respect her choices. I watched, my face a cold mask, as she stumbled into Liam’s room. Then I turned and opened the door to the room next door. Beth might not remember who she’d drugged, but I had the memories of my past life. The moment she said it, I knew. Tonight, I would be the one to save the poor, unsuspecting bad boy. 4 The moment I opened the door, a blast of cold air hit me. The room was a mess, water everywhere. I followed the sound of dripping and found him. The notoriously cool and arrogant Jaxon was a pathetic heap on the floor, his back against the sofa, pouring ice water over his head. His t-shirt was tossed aside, leaving him in just a pair of grey sweatpants. His head was bowed, his black hair plastered to his face, obscuring his eyes. Droplets of water traced the sharp line of his jaw, soaking a dark patch on his pants. It was a strangely mesmerizing sight. His long, slender fingers were clenched so tightly around a plastic water bottle that it crackled. When the last drop fell, he tilted his head back and, incredibly, stuck his tongue inside the bottle, licking at the remaining moisture before his full lips closed around the opening again. The Jaxon I remembered had bright red hair and an ear full of studs, a walking embodiment of rebellion. Looking at him now, his defiant face was still strikingly handsome. But his flushed skin and labored breathing told a different story. His reactions were slow. It took him a moment to realize someone had entered the room. Without looking up, he snarled, “Who let you in? Get out!” But when he turned and saw it was me, the words “don’t touch me” died on his lips. He stumbled to his feet, trying to retreat toward the mini-fridge, but his legs gave out and he collapsed back onto the floor. I grabbed a bottle of ice water, twisted it open, and handed it to him. “Jaxon, where’s your phone? I’ll call a doctor.” He chugged the water, half of it spilling down his chin and neck. Then he started fumbling at his pockets, trying to find his phone. I could see a bulge that looked like a phone, but after a minute of fruitless searching, he looked up at me, his expression bewildered, his lips moving but no sound coming out. He was taking too long. I pushed his hands away and reached into his pocket myself. The instant my fingers brushed against it, I regretted it. With my years of experience as a urologist in my past life, I knew that what I was feeling was definitely not a phone. Before I could scream, Jaxon’s ragged breathing was hot against my ear. I flinched, turning my head, and found myself looking into his flushed, feverish eyes. “I’ll… I’ll go get someone.” I scrambled to my feet, but he grabbed my arm, his hand pressing mine against the fabric of his pants. Another ragged gasp escaped his lips. The sensation seemed to jolt him back to some semblance of consciousness. “Thea,” he rasped. I stared at him, stunned. I was shocked. The name he’d been muttering this whole time… was mine. Even in this state, he recognized me. But in my past life, why had Liam mistaken me for someone else? Or was it that, in his eyes, I was just someone to be used and discarded? The thought filled me with a cold fury. I stepped forward, bent down, and tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at me. “Say it again. Who am I?” The moment my hand touched his skin, I felt the searing heat. When I tried to pull away, he caught my hand, pressing it to his cheek and rubbing against it like a cat. His gaze drifted from my lips to my eyes, finally meeting mine. “Thea,” he breathed. “Help me.”

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I received Liam Cole’s divorce papers when I was twenty-eight. When I was eighteen, he’d proposed to me with a ring made from a chocolate wrapper. Ten years. That’s all it took. The day we were supposed to sign the papers, he got into a car accident. His memory reset to eighteen. Back to the year he loved me most. 1 I was at LAX, waiting to board a flight to Paris, when the email with Liam Cole’s divorce petition arrived. As I opened the file, a single thought surfaced, clean and sharp as glass: So, we’re finally here. At that point, Liam and I had already been separated for two full years. But his lawyer had been insistent. I had to return to New York to handle this in person. I canceled my flight. The Parisian dream dissolved and was replaced by a cross-country flight back to the life I’d left behind. On the plane, I twisted the wedding band on my finger. Ten years ago, he’d cried like a little boy when he asked me to marry him. He would love me forever, he’d said. And I, in all my eighteen-year-old innocence, had actually believed him. But people change, don’t they? I knew it was over two years ago. The last time he looked at me, I saw it in his eyes. The love was gone. There was no point in dwelling on it. I closed my eyes and let the darkness swallow my thoughts. It wasn’t until I was standing on the curb at JFK, the familiar New York air thick with exhaust and urgency, that I understood what it meant to feel like a stranger in your own home. Two years isn’t a lifetime, but it’s long enough for everything to feel foreign. “Nora! Over here!” A familiar voice sliced through the chaos. It was Sasha. My best friend since we were teenagers. She was the first person I’d told when I agreed to the divorce. She looked incredible—a sharp beige suit, a slash of red lipstick, and huge, audacious gold hoops that framed her face. A portrait of effortless command. “Nora, baby, give me a kiss!” She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a fierce hug and planting a loud, smacking kiss on my cheek. I couldn’t help but laugh, a little breathlessly. As I turned to tease her, she cupped my face in her hands, gently but firmly turning my head away from the terminal. “Don’t look, baby. Visual pollution.” A small smile touched my lips, and I shook my head gently. How could I not see him? Liam Cole was everywhere. His face stared down from a dozen different ad campaigns, his eyes following me from billboards and digital screens. Yes. My husband. The superstar. 2 “Hmph. You just wait, Nora. I’m going to be your divorce lawyer. That dog Liam Cole has been hiding this marriage for years while messing around with that—that Vance woman. Just based on the paparazzi photos alone, I can take him to the cleaners.” Sasha was a partner at one of the top law firms in the city now. Watching her seethe on my behalf, I had the sudden, bittersweet thought that she had been Liam’s friend first. Even if I was losing him, at least I still had her. “My dear, powerful attorney,” I said softly. “Let’s not trouble you with this little thing.” I just wanted it to be over. Quick and clean. “You’re not planning on asking for nothing, are you?” My silence was her answer. “You… I’ve never met anyone so foolish. It’s just like when you were eighteen, giving up Paris for…” Eighteen. Such a distant past. A past I never wanted to remember. “Sasha, I don’t want to get dragged into a fight with him.” “The last ten years with him have already taken everything I have.” Sasha didn’t say another word. She just drove me to her apartment. “Get some rest. I have to go back to the office to handle a few things.” And then I was alone again in the sprawling, silent apartment. It was just like all those years in our house on the North Shore, where it was always, always just me. I turned on the TV, and it was immediately there: a segment on an entertainment news channel. “Big news from Hollywood! Is superstar actress Olivia Vance finally tying the knot? Rumors have swirled for years about her romance with Liam Cole, and now, with these new photos of the couple vacationing in Hawaii—allegedly scouting wedding venues—it looks like wedding bells are imminent. When questioned by reporters, Vance remained coy, but her radiant smile said it all. She’s currently preparing for the Cannes Film Festival, so we’ll have to wait for her return for official confirmation!” Listening to it, I felt… nothing. A complete, hollow calm. Two years ago, just seeing her name—Olivia Vance—on the screen would have made me want to scream, to hurl something at the television. I was impressed with my own self-control now. A text from an unknown number buzzed on my phone. 【Civil Affairs Bureau. 9 AM tomorrow.】 Efficient. So this was why he was in such a hurry to divorce me. To marry her. Perhaps I should thank her. The next day, at nine in the morning, I was standing outside the Bureau as promised. I waited for nearly two hours. No one came. Steeling myself, I was just about to dial the number when my phone rang. It was Sasha. “Nora, you need to get to Mount Sinai Hospital, now. Liam’s been in a car accident.” 3 “We’re… married?” After two years apart, the first thing Liam Cole said to me was that. Everyone in the hospital room turned to look at me. Some with suspicion, others with concern. He glanced at the ring on my hand and then scratched his head, a look of pure, boyish confusion on his face. What is going on? I shot a questioning look at Sasha. She pulled me into the hallway. “His memory has reverted to when he was eighteen.” “He suffered a severe blow to the head,” she explained. “The doctors say he has memory loss. He only remembers things from before he was eighteen.” “Eighteen?” I whispered the word. Why? Why that year? Because that was the year I gave up my spot at the Paris Opera Ballet School. Because that was the year I broke with my parents for Liam. Because that was the year that marked the beginning of my ten-year descent into hell. I didn’t want to remember it. I stormed back into the room. “I’ve already divorced you!” “I would never divorce her! My dream is to marry her!” Our voices collided in the sterile air. I froze. Liam froze. Only his agent, standing in the corner, had a smug, ‘I told you so’ look on his face that made me want to slap him. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Liam’s voice was thin, incredulous. “There’s no amnesia. This is some kind of prank, right?” “This isn’t funny. I have to get to practice.” He tried to get out of bed, but his agent quickly stopped him. “No one is lying to you, Liam.” “You want proof? Here!” I pulled our marriage certificate from my bag and threw it onto the bed in front of him. I enunciated every word, my voice trembling with rage. “I don’t care if you have amnesia or not. Today was the day we were supposed to get divorced. And no matter what, I am divorcing you!” Liam looked at the certificate I’d thrown down. At first, a small, disbelieving smile played on his lips. But as my words sank in, his face went completely white. “Nora… you… I…” “Yeah, that’s right, Liam,” his agent chimed in eagerly. “Weren’t you just in Hawaii with Ms. Vance a few days ago, looking at wedding venues?” “Shut up!” Liam roared. A sudden, inexplicable fire surged through me. I rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go. We’re going to the Bureau to get divorced, right now!” He resisted, but I pulled him forcefully, ignoring how his face was growing paler by the second. “My head… it hurts so much!” He suddenly clutched his head, his face contorted in agony, and then he collapsed. After the doctors finished their examination, they gathered us together and gave us a harsh lecture. “The patient has severe depression and has just been in a major accident. And you’re agitating him like this? Are you trying to trigger a complete mental breakdown?” Depression? Since when did Liam have depression? “Don’t mention the divorce to him again. At least not while his memory is like this.” “This is likely temporary amnesia. When his condition stabilizes, his memories should return. Until then, whatever you all are planning, please be patient and wait for the patient to recover.” The doctor’s final gaze landed on me. “Especially you, Mrs. Cole. The patient needs you right now.” The implication was clear. But that meant I had to stay by his side. I didn’t want to. I looked at Liam, lying unconscious in the bed, and a profound sadness washed over me. Why did you have to go back to being eighteen? Eighteen… that was when you loved me most.

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The day I was supposed to choose the suit for my wedding, a stranger rushed into the VIP lounge and stabbed me. “Stealing my woman,” he snarled, “and you think you deserve a suit that costs more than a car?” He ripped my shirt, the fine fabric tearing with a sound that seemed impossibly loud. A grotesque smile twisted his face as he brandished a bottle, splashing its contents at me. The acrid smell of chemicals hit me before the liquid did. Acid. The cold steel was already buried in my gut. Pain, white-hot and absolute, forced me to my knees. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Ava is my wife, you understand? So what the hell are you? You’re nothing. Just a dirty little secret she keeps on the side.” Blood, warm and slick, dripped through my fingers. And in that moment, I understood. Ava. My fiancée of seven years. The woman I was about to marry was keeping another man. And I wasn’t the husband; I was the affair. “What are you looking at?” he spat, his face flush with manic pride. “Even if I kill you right here, with my wife’s power, no one will touch me. No one.” Staring at his arrogant face, I used my blood-slicked hand to pull out my phone. I found my sister’s number. “Sloane,” I said, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Come get me. The tailor’s shop in SoHo.” A pause. Then, “And let the Monroe family know—the engagement is off.” 1 I ended the call. The suit, a bespoke masterpiece worth a fortune, was now a ruin of blackened, smoldering holes. My exposed skin screamed in protest as the high-concentration acid seared it, a foul yellow ooze mixing with the red of my blood. I glared at the man, the rage in my eyes hot enough to incinerate him. But the boutique staff and the few other clients, drawn by the commotion, only laughed. “Hah, can you believe it? He messed with Ava Monroe’s husband. He’s so screwed.” The man, Caleb, jabbed a finger at my face. “You piece of shit! Still trying to act tough? You think calling someone is going to make me back off? What a joke. The ‘Sterlings’? Never heard of them. I’m calling the cops to have you arrested for stealing this suit, you pathetic homewrecker!” I pressed my hand to the weeping wound in my side, hot blood pulsing between my fingers. The world was beginning to blur at the edges from the blood loss. I glanced at the thugs standing behind Caleb, regretting my decision to come out today without my security detail. My eyes scanned the crowd, a silent plea for help. They just stared back, whispering amongst themselves, their faces a mixture of morbid curiosity and scorn. No one moved to help. No one dared. Gritting my teeth against a wave of pain, I locked my gaze on Caleb, my eyes red-rimmed and murderous. “I don’t care who you are, but you need to understand something. My name is Sterling. Leo Sterling, of the New York Sterlings. Now, get the hell out of my sight before I change my mind about letting you live.” My stare only seemed to enrage him further. He kicked me, hard, right in the stomach. “The hell do I care about some ‘Sterlings’? You think I’m scared of you?” The impact tore the gash in my abdomen wider. A fresh surge of blood and fluid soaked through my ruined clothes. But in that moment, I barely registered the pain. His words echoed in my ears. Ava Monroe’s husband. Then who was I? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. It was all horribly clear. Ava… she was cheating on me. The woman chosen by our families, my high-school sweetheart, the love I’d built my life around for seven years… had a secret husband. Knowing this wasn’t the time to fall apart, I forced the rage down. “Caleb, is it?” I said, my voice a low growl. “You’re going to get me to a hospital, right now. And then you’re going to tell Ava to get her ass over there.” He looked at me with genuine surprise. I shot him a look of pure venom. “Because if anything happens to me today, the first person my family will destroy is you,” I whispered. “And Ava… she’ll be buried right alongside me.” For a second, there was silence. Then Caleb burst out laughing. He grabbed my hair again, slamming my head against the floor. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, ordering my wife around! Even if I kill you, the Monroes have plenty of money. I can afford to pay for a life like yours.” My head rang, my vision swimming in a red haze. He ground his heel into the stab wound, and a tide of pure agony and despair washed over me. Just then, the screech of tires cut through the air. A familiar Maybach sedan pulled up to the curb. The breath I didn’t know I was holding finally left my body. I looked at Caleb and managed a cold, bloody smile. “I told you,” I rasped. “My name is Sterling. Sloane is here. Are you ready to die?” “Leo!” My sister, Sloane, took in the scene, and a storm of fury erupted in her eyes. She rushed to my side, shrugging off her designer coat and wrapping it around my shredded, half-naked body. She pulled me into an embrace, her fierce protectiveness a tangible thing. “Are you okay, Leo? Don’t worry, I’m here now.” A hard knot of emotion clogged my throat, and tears I hadn’t realized were there finally fell. She gently wiped the blood and grime from my face before turning her wrath on Caleb. “You’re the one who did this to my brother?” Her voice was dangerously low. “You have a death wish.” Caleb looked at her as if she were a joke, laughing so hard he doubled over. When he finally caught his breath, he shot Sloane a dismissive glare. “Big words. Let’s see if you’re still talking so tough in a few minutes. Boys! Show her that I, Caleb, am not someone you mess with.” His thugs charged forward. Sloane’s security detail moved instantly, forming a protective barrier around us while efficiently taking down the first wave of attackers. But more men poured out from behind Caleb, and our guards were quickly outnumbered. “Sloane,” I asked, my voice weak with worry, “is this everyone you brought?” Her face was grim. She squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry. Dad’s on his way with the main team. Let’s see who has the nerve to touch Sloane Sterling’s brother.” Caleb was growing anxious as he watched his men get systematically dismantled. He shot us a venomous look and pulled out his phone. “You just wait! I’m calling my wife to come and destroy you!” He put the call on speaker, and as soon as it connected, he started wailing. “Honey! This woman, some psycho named Sloane Sterling, is attacking me! She says I hurt her brother and she’s going to kill me! You have to come, now!” The voice on the other end, Ava’s voice, was suddenly sharp with alarm. “Sloane? Which Sloane?… Where the hell are you?! Don’t you move a muscle!” Even after seven years, I would know that voice anywhere. And I could hear the tremor of pure panic in every syllable. Good, I thought. Let her come. Caleb hung up, a triumphant, piercing laugh echoing in the room. “Hah! My wife is on her way to end you! She said she doesn’t know any Sloane! She’ll just pay for the damages after you’re dead!” He pointed at his remaining men. “Listen up! A million dollars to whoever takes these two out first!” Greed lit up their eyes. One of them snatched a fruit knife from a nearby refreshment tray and lunged at us. “Leo, close your eyes!” Sloane spun around, shielding me with her body. I felt a warm, strong hand cover my face. A choked gasp from Sloane. The coppery scent of fresh blood filled the air. A terrible premonition seized me. I clawed at her hand, my voice cracking. “Sloane! What happened? Are you okay?” When I pulled her hand away, my vision cleared to the sight of a deep, grotesque gash on her forearm, blood dripping onto the pristine floor. Then came a brutal kick, and she collapsed on top of me with a thud. She coughed, a spray of red misting the air. “Sloane!” I screamed, my heart shattering. I was untouched, but my sister’s white dress was rapidly turning crimson. Hate, pure and undiluted, consumed me. My face, streaked with blood and tears, twisted into a mask of rage. I scrambled for the heavy, cast-iron tailor’s shears on a nearby worktable and launched myself at Caleb’s smug face. Shhhnk. The blades sank deep into his abdomen. “Aaaargh!” he shrieked. I held onto the handles, twisting them savagely in his flesh. “You piece of trash! You dare to touch me!” He gripped the shears, kicked me away, and roared in fury. I landed hard on the floor, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. Caleb, now completely unhinged, screamed at his men, “Kill him! Kill him now!” They swarmed me. The next thing I saw was a wooden chair swinging down toward my head. “Don’t you touch my brother!” a hoarse voice cried out. Through my horrified, widening eyes, I saw Sloane stumble to her feet and throw herself in front of me. The chair crashed down on her head with a sickening crack. “SLOANE!” Her body went limp, falling heavily against mine. She twitched once, twice, and then was still. I went insane, scrambling to lift her, but two of the thugs pinned me to the floor, grinding my face into the cold marble. Pinned and helpless, I thrashed and screamed, my cries choked with blood and tears. Caleb just smiled. He brought the pointed heel of his designer shoe down on my fingers, grinding it slowly. “Is this too much for you?” Pain exploded through my hand. I curled into a ball, my body trembling, cold sweat drenching my skin. My vision began to fade, the world dissolving into the sound of Caleb’s maniacal laughter. “Don’t you worry,” he cooed. “I have one more special gift for both of you.” A final blow landed, and the world went black. When I came to, we were in a glass-walled walk-in freezer. The skin touching the metal floor burned with a piercing cold. I was shivering violently. Sloane’s face was already tinged with blue, a delicate frost forming on her eyelashes. I rubbed my hands together, trying to generate some warmth, and pressed them to her cheek. My tears fell, hot against her icy skin. “Sloane, stay with me. Don’t fall asleep. Dad’s coming, he’s almost here. Please, just hold on…” I felt her breathing grow shallow, and my heart sank into a black pit of despair. I looked out at Caleb, my eyes so red they felt like they were bleeding. “Caleb! If my sister dies, I will kill you with my bare hands!” He just chuckled, pulling his cashmere coat tighter as he stepped into the freezer. “You talk way too much.” He shoved a rag into my mouth, then kicked me hard in the chest. “Feeling a little hot-headed? Let’s cool you off.” With that, he kicked over a large bucket of water. The icy liquid spread quickly beneath me, and in the sub-zero temperature of the freezer, it began to turn to ice, freezing my tattered clothes and bleeding skin to the floor. The cold was a physical thing, a deep, gnawing pain that shot straight to my bones. “So? How do you like my gift?” Caleb sneered, admiring his handiwork before turning and leaving us to freeze. I looked at Sloane’s still form, a wave of crushing regret washing over me. I hated myself for being too weak to just get up and kill him. And then, a vibration. My phone, somehow still in my pocket, was ringing. My pupils contracted. The caller ID read: Ava. Ignoring the searing pain of tearing my own skin, I dragged my body across the icy floor until I could reach the phone and answer it. “Leo! Where are you?” Ava’s voice was frantic. “I can explain about Caleb later! Just let him go! Or else…” She hesitated. “Or else I’ll hate you for the rest of my life.” The blood-tinged ice steamed faintly beneath me. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. My face contorted with a mixture of insane hatred and utter despair. Hate me? From the day we made our relationship official, Sloane had been secretly helping me build Ava up so that my father would finally accept her. In just three years, Sloane’s guidance had turned Monroe Industries into a market leader. And this was how she repaid us? By taking my money to support her secret husband, and then letting him do this to us? That monster. It was Caleb trying to kill us. The rag in my mouth turned my furious screams into muffled sobs. Just then, Caleb returned. Hearing Ava’s voice on the phone, he froze, then snatched it from my hand. “Hello? Honey? Why are you calling him?” Ava, hearing only silence from my end, sounded panicked. “Where’s Leo?” “So his name really is Leo,” Caleb said dismissively. “I’m just teaching this little homewrecker a lesson. Showing him that you don’t mess with the Monroe family.” There was a dead silence from the other end. Then, Ava’s furious scream tore through the speaker, so loud it was distorted. “CALEB! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO LEO? HE’S LEO STERLING!” A pause, filled with her ragged breathing. “YOU’RE TRYING TO GET ME KILLED!” Clatter. Caleb’s body went rigid. The phone slipped from his grasp and hit the floor. His eyes were wide with a dawning, horrified disbelief. After a few seconds of stunned silence, his head snapped around to look at me. His expression was one of pure terror. He ripped the gag from my mouth. “Are you… are you really Leo Sterling?” he stammered, his voice an octave higher than before. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. I gave him a weak, cold smile. “Starting to believe me? Now go get my sister to a…” SMACK. His open palm connected with my cheek. “You shut your mouth! I’m Ava’s husband! What are you?!” His terror was morphing back into a desperate, defensive rage. “So what if you’re Leo Sterling? That doesn’t change the fact that you’re the other man!” He fumbled for his own phone, unlocked it, and shoved the screen in my face. It was a photo of a marriage certificate. Ava Monroe and Caleb Vance. And when my eyes focused on the date, a loud ringing started in my ears. I started to laugh. A wild, unhinged sound. I finally understood why, starting five years ago, Ava was always so “busy with work.” She had married Caleb then. And I, like a fool, had felt sorry for her, begging Sloane to send some of her best people to help ease her workload. All those nights she claimed to be pulling all-nighters at the office, she was with him. Of our seven-year relationship, Caleb had been a part of five. It turned out I really was the homewrecker he’d called me. I laughed until tears streamed down my face, my body convulsing so hard I coughed up a mouthful of dark, clotted blood. “My wife loves me too much to ever yell at me like that! It was you, wasn’t it? You seduced her!” Caleb grabbed me by the throat, his face a mask of frantic denial. “Talk! Say something!” I sank my teeth into his wrist. The coppery taste of his blood filled my mouth, so sickening I wanted to vomit. I spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the floor and looked at him with pure contempt. He didn’t even flinch, his eyes wild with a crazed idea. “You should just die! If you’re dead, then Ava will be all mine again!” He scrambled out of the freezer. When he returned, he was carrying a large canister. He tipped it over, and a cold, pungent liquid splashed all over me. The acrid smell hit me instantly. Gasoline. He was going to burn me alive. Primal survival instincts kicked in. I started dragging Sloane’s unconscious body toward the door, but it was too late. He flicked a lighter and tossed it onto my soaked clothes. The world erupted in flames. The smell of burning flesh filled the small space. I rolled on the ground, screaming in agony, but the fire clung to me, feeding on the gasoline. The pain was beyond anything I had ever imagined. Perhaps my screams were loud enough to pierce through her unconsciousness, because Sloane’s eyes slowly fluttered open. “Leo!” Her eyes widened in horror. A surge of desperate, adrenaline-fueled strength allowed her to break the thin ropes binding her wrists. She stumbled towards me, her movements clumsy. Through the searing pain, I shook my head, my voice a shredded wreck. “No! Don’t save me! Sloane, you’ll die too! Stay back!” But she ignored me, slapping at the flames on my body with her bare hands. “Leo, I’m not going to let anything happen to you!” she choked out, trying to comfort me even then. The moment her hands touched the fire, her skin blackened and peeled back, revealing raw, pink flesh underneath. Her face contorted in pain, a sight that shattered what was left of my heart. Tears welled in my eyes, only to be instantly evaporated by the heat. Sloane didn’t stop, forcing a pained smile onto her face. “Don’t cry, Leo. It doesn’t hurt.” I had never seen my sister, always so poised and powerful, look so broken. And it was all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, she would never be in this position. Regret was a poison, eating me alive. I pounded my fists against my chest, glaring at Caleb with all the hatred in my soul. It was all my fault! I had ruined everything because I was blind enough to fall for a monster like Ava! “Caleb!” I roared through the flames. “When my father gets here, you are a dead man!” He just laughed, his face a terrifying rictus of glee. He began splashing the rest of the gasoline all around the glass-walled freezer, then played with the lighter in his hand. “Still talking tough? I’m about to send you two on a little trip to hell together!” Just as the flames were about to consume us completely, two roars echoed through the building, arriving at the exact same time. “STOP!” It was Ava, her face as white as a sheet. And another, deeper voice, laced with absolute authority and earth-shattering fury. “Who dares to touch my children?” My father, Arthur Sterling, flanked by a small army of his elite security team, strode into the room. The moment his eyes fell on Sloane and me, his expression transformed into something apocalyptic. Ava’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees. Caleb just stood there, frozen, his face a perfect picture of idiocy.

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My whole class was thrown forward in time, to the year 3035. Humans, once the apex predators, were now a critically endangered species. Leo, the class slacker, was living it up. “Dude, this is awesome! They feed us, house us, even give us baths. Steak, lobster, little cakes—what’s not to love?” Mark, our class president, agreed. “AC, waterbeds, a pool… Seventy-eight degrees is the GOAT.” And Ariana, the class beauty, preened. “Eee, why are they always looking at me? Do they just, like, love me that much?” But I was the only one whose skin was crawling, whose mouth was as dry as dust. Oh, my dear, naive classmates. You’ve forgotten something. As an endangered species, it’s not just about being cherished, adored, and pampered. It’s also about being bred. Endlessly. 1 I was the last one they caught. Our Animal Science class was on a field trip to a national wilderness preserve to observe a wild panda. The transport vehicle overturned, and when we woke up, we were in the apocalypse. My leg was injured. I got separated from the others while looking for food. After a restless sleep, as I was dragging myself eastward up a mountain, he appeared again—the burly Insectoid in sterile gloves who’d been silently tracking me. I thrashed, trying to scramble away, my hands fumbling for a loose rock to throw. But the Insectoid, with his strangely delicate features, just stared at me with his huge, multifaceted compound eyes. A low, rhythmic chittering sound vibrated from his throat, as if trying to soothe me. He didn’t seem hostile. I was already at my limit. The wound on my leg had reopened, bleeding again. The Insectoid behind me chirped softly, a gentle summons. This time, I stopped my clumsy retreat and turned back. He had placed a piece of fruit on the ground. I swallowed hard. As my gaze dropped to the fruit, a sharp prick stung my ankle. A thin, insect-like needle delivered a paralyzing agent that spread through my body like ice. I was sedated. When I opened my eyes again, I was inside a completely alien architectural complex. Two other Insectoid guards opened a gate, revealing silvery structures that shimmered in the sun like liquid mercury. Holographic screens and rotating icons pulsed with information I couldn’t comprehend. Through the transparent walls on either side of me, I could see other humans huddled in corners, their faces distorted and strange. They were a mix of ethnicities, but they all shared unsettling traits: wide-set eyes, mismatched pupils, and thin, patchy hair. The moment I was lifted from the transparent containment unit, a wave of excitement swept through the facility. Every Insectoid swarmed toward me. They chittered and clicked, a sound of urgent, agitated delight. The thousands of tiny lenses in their compound eyes were fixed on me. One of them, who seemed to be a leader, extended a long, jointed appendage. The sedative still held me frozen; I could only watch as its hand descended and gently stroked my hair. A series of soft clicks, like laughter, echoed from the leader. The pupils in its countless tiny eyes dilated. If I were to judge by human emotions, it was pure joy. It seemed these Insectoids adored humans, especially our smooth skin and soft hair. 2 They took me to a private room that resembled a medical bay. An Insectoid medic tended to the wound on my leg. Their methods were nothing like human medicine; they were brutal. The dead flesh was simply carved away, with no anesthetic or medication. I was expected to just… heal. When the paralytic wore off, the pain was so intense I nearly passed out. Just then, an Insectoid caretaker brought me a bowl of milk. It was fresh, still warm and carrying a gamey scent. Gritting my teeth, I drank it all. The caretaker seemed pleased. It studied me for a long moment, then, when it thought no one was looking, its gloved hand reached out and patted my head. I fought down a wave of nausea and stayed perfectly still. My only strategy was to eat whatever they gave me and observe everything. My quiet compliance quickly earned me a reward. One day, after I’d finished my meal, my caretaker carefully lifted me. It used an iris scanner to activate a light-based transport strip, and we glided down a brightly lit corridor made of some unknown material. We stopped in front of a large room. The doors hissed open to reveal a bizarre collection of human furniture—chairs, tables, and benches, all looking like priceless antiques. And deeper inside, there were a dozen nutrient pods. Each pod held someone. In the nearest one, his eyes closed in sleep, was Leo, the class slacker. They were here. A jolt of panic shot through me. An Insectoid doctor in the room chittered something. Seeing my reaction, it gestured for my caretaker to put me down. I limped forward, peering into each pod. In the very center, a figure stirred and woke. It was our class beauty, Ariana. I raised my hand to tap on the glass. Suddenly, a mechanical arm shot out from the pod, and a line of text materialized in the air—some kind of description. “Ariana,” I rasped, my voice trembling. My caretaker let out a sharp, joyful cry. It was the first time I had spoken in days. It chittered to the doctor on duty, and a moment later, the pod doors began to open. Ariana was the first one lifted out by the mechanical arm, followed by the others. They woke up, rubbing their eyes and staring at me. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Tears welled up in my eyes. But my classmates just laughed, their relief palpable. 3 They had been captured two weeks before me. They knew more than I did. This was Earth, but not the Earth we knew. It had been conquered by an alien Insectoid species. Humans were nearly extinct, now classified as a federally protected endangered species. And we were the new darlings of Earth’s masters. The entire captive population numbered less than a hundred. We were being preserved with the effort and resources of a nation-state. Seeing my confusion, Leo grinned. “Think about how they used to treat pandas. That’s us now.” Below only one species, but above all else. Claire, our top student, tried to comfort me. “Don’t be scared, Barb. We’re safe now. They won’t hurt us. We were so worried about you.” In the time they’d been here, they’d already learned to decipher some of the Insectoids’ intentions. Their intelligence, which they demonstrated through these deductions, had earned them unprecedented attention. It was a positive feedback loop: constant care and escalating pampering had given them all the illusion of being princes and princesses. Claire said, “Based on their excitement and the symbols they’ve inscribed for us, I think the total human population is even lower than the panda population was. We made a bet. Leo says three thousand, Mark says one thousand, and Ariana thinks it’s eight hundred. Barb, what’s your bet?” How many? I didn’t know. I glanced over my shoulder. In the observation room behind us, the same Insectoid who’d brought me in was cleaning, a pair of sterile gloves on his hands. He kept stealing glances at me. In that moment, I saw something complex in his compound eyes. Was it… concern? Was he worried that we, the endangered, might come to harm? How ironic. Humans, the ancient and precious living fossils, had thrived on this planet for five million years with our incredible adaptability. We wiped out nearly 85% of Earth’s wild mammals and consumed half its plant life, becoming masters of the planet. And a thousand years later, we were the ones on the verge of extinction. Wait. Endangered species. My mind flashed back to the distorted faces of the humans I’d seen when I first arrived. I remembered a famous case from Australia, a tragic story of an isolated family whose inbreeding led to severe health problems in their children—facial deformities, poor eyesight, the inability to speak. Could it be that the other humans in this facility were… A terrifying thought took root in my mind. Beside me, my classmates were still chattering excitedly. “Man, this is the life! No 9-to-5 grind, they feed us, house us, even give us baths. Steak, lobster, little cakes…” Leo sighed contentedly. “AC, waterbeds, a pool,” Mark added. “Seventy-eight degrees is the best.” “Eee, they can’t stop looking at me,” Ariana whispered, fluffing her hair. “Do they just, like, adore me?” And I was the only one whose skin was crawling, whose mouth was as dry as dust. My dear classmates. You’ve forgotten. As an endangered species, it’s not just about being cherished and adored. You also have to be bred. Endlessly. 4 There were eight of us now, including me. All from the same vehicle, all friends. Four guys: Mark, Leo, Jax the athlete, and Simon, the quiet one with glasses. And four girls: myself, Ariana, Claire, and my introverted roommate, Jenna. A perfect set. Four males, four females. We all wore collars. The girls’ were silver, the boys’ were gold—a simple way to differentiate sexes. The symbols on them seemed to be serial numbers. If I wasn’t mistaken, mine was 88. The Insectoids kept calling me “Baba,” which sounded just like it. It also sounded eerily like my nickname, Barb. When I shared my terrible theory, Simon, the youngest, had the biggest reaction. His face turned beet red, his mouth hanging slightly open. Ariana shot him an annoyed look. “What are you staring at?” She gracefully tucked a curl behind her ear. “They wouldn’t do that, would they?” Mark and Claire fell silent. “They probably wouldn’t… at least, not right away,” Mark said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “We have to find a way to escape,” Claire whispered. We looked around. The room was under 360-degree surveillance. Our every move was exposed to the watchful eyes of our Insectoid caretakers. Their compound eyes stared, unblinking. This time, even Leo shivered. “No way… I’m still a virgin.” My roommate Jenna was on the verge of tears. “Barb, what are we going to do?” A typical insect has thousands of lenses in its compound eyes. Each one acts as a tiny, individual eye, capturing every minute movement and feeding it to the brain. To them, our every action, every flicker of an eyelid, every tightening of a muscle, was an eternity of slow motion. The moment Jenna started to cry, her designated caretaker began to move. “Stop crying!” I hissed. “Smile. Right now.” Jenna’s mouth trembled, twisting into a pained grimace. “What? Why?” “They can’t understand our words, but they can read our expressions. If you keep crying, they might think we’re hurting you. Think about how we separate fighting lab rats in the vivarium.” Everyone went quiet. Just then, I noticed the number of Insectoids outside the observation room had grown. They’d gathered silently, a crowd of them. From my time in the wilderness and the med bay, I’d learned that Insectoids distinguished rank by the necklaces they wore. Commoners wore stone or wooden beads. Professionals, like doctors, wore necklaces of terrestrial gems, like crystal. But the managers, the ones with authority, wore gold chains forged from metals brought to Earth by a supernova. The bigger the beads, the higher the rank. And right now, outside the glass, stood an Insectoid leader with a thick, heavy gold chain. The pair of antennae on its head twitched gently. Insect antennae are their most vital sensory organs, evolved from what were once legs on their heads. Some detect the taste of food, some sense sound, others smell. Right now, the leader’s antennae were quivering, pointed in our direction. That’s when I noticed it. Even in this situation, Ariana had put on perfume. Her hair was perfectly styled. She caught me staring and shrugged. “A girl’s got to look her best, no matter what. It was the last of my perfume, anyway.” The last of it was more than enough. The next second, the Insectoid leader pointed a clawed finger at Ariana. An Insectoid caretaker entered, gently scooped Ariana up, and carried her out. The leader nodded, satisfied, then its gaze swept over the rest of us. 5 “Are they choosing people?” Simon asked, his voice hollow. “Are they going to… pair us up now?” Mark and the other guys tensed, glancing instinctively at Simon. He flinched, his face turning a shade of red so deep it looked painful. Jax, ever the loyal friend, spoke up. “Doesn’t matter who they pick. We won’t… we won’t do anything.” Simon glanced at me. “Me… me neither.” But after taking Ariana, they didn’t take anyone else. The rest of the day passed in unnerving silence. A knot of anxiety tightened in our stomachs. As the only one who had survived outside for over a week, I had become their unwilling expert. But the truth was, I didn’t know anything. In that week, I hadn’t seen a single other living human. The ruins of our world—old houses, decaying parks—were almost completely covered by bizarre Insectoid structures. The ground was littered with the massive, discarded egg sacs and molted skins of their hatchlings, emitting a sour, unsettling stench. The wilderness was no place for humans anymore. The only survivors were in captivity. And in this facility, there were others besides us. As the thought occurred to me, I saw the same realization dawn on Mark and the others. We all rushed toward the transparent walls, but they crackled with electricity. A single touch sent a numbing jolt through our bodies. Our frantic movements attracted the attention of the caretakers. Mark was the first to be lifted away, and the others followed, one by one. Just before they took me, I yelled, “Cry! If you’re alone, just cry! Stop when you see one of us! If we do it enough, they’ll understand! It’s our only way to see each other!” 6 My advice worked. While the Insectoids’ rigid exoskeletons didn’t allow for many expressions, they had emotions. They were naturally drawn to the sight of a smiling human, especially a docile, obedient one. It was the same satisfaction we once got from our own pets, that feeling of affection and simple, devoted submission. On the third day of my solitary confinement, after my seventh crying jag and refusing all food and water, I was finally allowed to see my own kind again. But it wasn’t in person. It was through a holographic display that materialized all around me. I could even navigate the images myself. What I saw was worse than I imagined. Four of my classmates were already naked. Mark was curled up, eating. Simon was asleep. Leo was gulping down fruit juice and belching loudly. The Insectoids had figured out the optimal temperature for human comfort, a temperature where clothes were unnecessary. So they had simply taken them away. They loved the softness of human skin, the suppleness of our bodies, the same way humans once loved fluffy kittens and puppies. They were making us into what they loved. They had no moral compass to tell them otherwise. Jax had it the worst. The hair on his chest had been plucked out, one by one, leaving his skin raw and red. According to their health standards, a healthy human shouldn’t have hair there. After all, none of the others did. I watched the four of them for two days. Then, two days later, Mark’s feed vanished. Only three male classmates remained. Three more days passed. Jax’s feed disappeared. Now there were only two. A cold dread began to creep into my heart. A wild, absurd thought surfaced. If the Insectoids were capable of “liking” someone… was it possible they would consider our feelings when it came to breeding? Was that why the girls were only shown the feeds of the four boys? Did they think we were choosing a mate based on who we watched the longest? …But the only reason I watched Simon and Leo more was because they at least tried to cover themselves! 7 The thought spiraled, twisting into panic. Just then, he arrived. It was the Insectoid who had first brought me to the facility. He was filling in for my caretaker, cleaning the room. I looked at him, my eyes wide and pleading. His own multifaceted eyes didn’t move, but his antennae twitched. As the human he’d personally captured, he’d always kept a close watch on me. I knew it. I turned back to the screen and let my expression crumple, as if I were about to cry. He glanced around, then continued his sanitizing routine. But one of his appendages brushed, as if by accident, against my injured ankle. The wound had already scabbed over. It was still red, but it didn’t hurt much anymore. I understood instantly. The reason I was kept in a private room, the reason I hadn’t been put on display, was because I was injured. If I stayed injured, it would certainly affect my suitability for pairing. That night, under the thin paper-like sheet on my bed, I used my fingernails to claw open the wound. I clenched my teeth against the searing pain and ripped away the entire scab. Blood pooled on the floor, but I didn’t make a sound. The next morning, the Insectoid doctor returned. It stared at my leg for a long time, only producing bandages after I started to sob. As it worked, an assistant came in. They chittered back and forth, and the assistant pulled up a holographic chart. It was filled with wedge-shaped compatibility graphs. At the very top, I saw her designation: Number Two. Ariana. And trailing behind her code was a list of golden male codes. Not a single one of them belonged to our classmates. Could it be? I got my answer a month later. During that time, because my wound kept “reopening,” I remained in the medical bay. As soon as they tried to remove my clothes or raise the temperature, I would feign weakness, my body going limp. The constant infections and a missed period finally made me genuinely sick. I ran a fever. Now, even when the naked images of Leo and Simon flickered across the screen, I didn’t even glance at them. My Insectoid doctors conferred, chittering worriedly about my poor condition. That afternoon, hoping to lift my spirits, they changed the holographic content. And that’s when I saw her. Unprepared, I saw a completely transformed Ariana. 8 The once glamorous Ariana was unrecognizable. Her beautiful, wavy hair had been chopped off, and a faint red mark scarred her forehead from where she’d tried to strangle herself with it. She was in a magnificent, sprawling room with soft, padded walls. She wore no clothes. Her skin was a pale, milky white, and her body was incredibly round. She must have gained at least thirty pounds. An endless supply of liquid nutrients was available to her, along with glittering, jewel-encrusted toys. Her environment looked luxurious, with several Insectoid attendants fussing over her constantly. If she so much as glanced at a food item, it was brought to her instantly. If she frowned, it was taken away. It would have been a perfect picture, if not for the enormous, taut swell of her belly. In less than two months, her stomach had grown to a terrifying size. If she was carrying multiples, there had to be at least eight in there. Had these creatures lost their minds? She sat mechanically, hugging a paper pillow, muttering to herself. Whenever a bell chimed, her head would snap up, and a vacant smile would spread across her face as she looked toward the door. It was pure conditioning, like a dog responding to a bell. So what if you were treated like a national treasure? In the end, you were still just a pet. A rare, collectively owned pet. And Ariana, favored by the Insectoid leader, was simply the most prized—and the first to be broken. I scrambled to my feet, my wounded ankle dripping blood onto the floor. The room spun. I steadied myself, reaching a hand out. The image flickered and changed. And then I saw Claire and Jenna, who I hadn’t seen in ages. Their enclosure was different, seemingly more open. It had a crystal-walled antechamber that periodically opened to the outside, allowing sunlight to stream in. It was like a VIP habitat at a zoo. On the grassy patch outside, a bathtub shaped like a giant clamshell had been installed. Every ray of light was designed to reflect off the bathers’ skin, showcasing its smoothness and beauty. Claire was holding on better than the others, but only just. She sat inside, refusing to go out. On the plush cushions before her, she had painstakingly written the same word over and over in spilled milk: Escape. Escape. Escape. Jenna, however, was in the outdoor tub, awkwardly washing herself as the Insectoids watched. Every splash, every movement, was met with a chorus of excited clicks and chirps from the spectators. Occasionally, a bold young Insectoid would slap the holographic screen, only to be chided by its parent for being rude and frightening the precious human. Beyond the transparent crystal wall, rows of Insectoids stood, tier upon tier, their compound eyes wide, their mouths agape, watching the humans inside. This was so different from the dull, listless captives they were used to. This was the adorable, lively human they had always dreamed of. Jenna, who had always been shy and insecure about her looks, was now the most beloved human in the Insectoid world.

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

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

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

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