Category: English

1 I came home soaked to the bone, and in Frank’s closet, I found a thick stack of old train tickets. He once took a twenty-eight-hour train ride just to see his first love. But he wouldn’t spare thirty minutes to pick me up from work when I had a raging fever. “Monica, is it fun, going through other people’s things?” I turned and held the tickets out to the man standing in the doorway. My voice was unnervingly calm. “Let’s call off the wedding.” Frank flicked his lighter open, and right in front of me, he burned the tickets until they were nothing but ash. “Happy now?” he asked, his tone flat. “Still want to call it off?” I nodded, my gaze serious. “Yes.” … “Monica, what do you want from me? What will it take to make you happy?” Frank’s brow furrowed, his voice laced with an exhaustion and impatience he didn’t bother to hide. “I’ll take my vacation time as soon as this project is done. We’ll go to Europe, a pre-honeymoon trip. How does that sound?” When I didn’t answer, he reached out, a familiar habit, and ruffled my hair. “I mean it this time. I won’t back out. Okay?” A bitter smile touched my lips. I mean it this time. So, he was aware. He knew just how many promises he’d broken. Holiday plans were always canceled at the last minute for an “emergency meeting.” Restaurant reservations always ended with me sitting alone, staring at cold food until the staff started closing up around me. Frank had a talent for forgetting the things he promised me, dismissing them as if they were trivial. And now, this offer, delivered with the magnanimity of a king bestowing a great favor. “No, thank you.” The fever made the room spin. I took a deep breath to fight back the lump forming in my throat. “We’re calling off the wedding. What’s the point of a honeymoon?” The warmth in his expression vanished, his eyes turning cold and dark. “Fine. Don’t go.” He straightened up, his voice taking on a hard edge. “I’m giving you a chance right now, Monica. You’re the one walking away from it. Don’t bring this up later, accusing me of breaking another promise.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. The rice porridge I’d put on the stove was ready. I ladled a bowl of the thin, watery soup—the only thing I could stomach when I was sick. Frank watched me, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “Is that all you’re making?” “Mhm.” He stared at me for a long moment, then snatched his suit jacket from the sofa and headed for the door. I didn’t follow him. I didn’t ask where he was going, what he was doing, or if he could please, just this once, stay with me. His hand rested on the doorknob, his movement faltering for a fraction of a second. He was waiting. He didn’t get the plea he was expecting. Click. Thump. The door closed. And the door to my heart, which had always been open for him, sealed shut forever. I used to be so naive. I thought a man like Frank, born into a world so far above my own, was just naturally aloof, incapable of deep affection. Until I saw that stack of faded tickets. They were proof that he could love. And they were proof that he didn’t love me. The drenching from yesterday made my fever worse. My best friend, Maya, had to take me to the hospital. “How did it get this bad?” she asked, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead the second she saw me. Her face was a mixture of worry and fury. “And where is Frank? He’s your fiancé, for God’s sake. Is this his idea of taking care of you?” I shook my head. “Not anymore.” “What does that mean?” Maya had watched me fall for him, step by agonizing step. She’d seen every fight, every cold war, and she’d seen me be the one to surrender every single time. I looked down, a small, sad smile on my face. “She’s back.” Seraphina. The first love Frank could never forget. Even though I’d never met her, her presence had been a shadow hanging over me for years. Frank said posting on social media was childish, yet every profile picture he’d ever had before me was a photo of her. He hated having his whereabouts questioned, but he’d voluntarily checked in with her constantly. The first perfume he ever gave me was gardenia—her favorite scent. He claimed gallery-hopping with me was a waste of time, but he had once walked with her through every hidden corner of the city. From the day we started dating to the day we got engaged, he had never let her go. And me? I was just a strategic choice. The suitable partner he’d selected after weighing the pros and cons. I was the fiancée, not the love of his life. Maya stayed with me while I was on an IV drip, trying to comfort me until a call from her boss dragged her away for a work emergency. “I’ll be fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Go on, make that money.” As she left, a young couple, glowing with new love, took the spot next to me. The girl was whining playfully about how sick she felt. The boy’s eyes were red with worry, calling her “sweetheart” and “baby” as he fussed over her. I watched them in silence. I used to be so envious of couples like that, the ones who were openly affectionate in public. Why did they get to have their partners by their side, while mine was always somewhere else? Why? The answer had been right in front of me all along. It had taken me three years of making excuses for him, of telling myself he was just emotionally distant by nature, to finally see it. By the time the IV bag was empty, the sky outside had darkened. As I stepped out of the clinic, I heard a familiar voice. “Frank, I just twisted my ankle. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble and bring me to the hospital.” I turned. There he was, carefully helping a woman in a long, cream-colored dress. He was holding her high heels in one hand, his brow creased with concern. “Why are you wearing heels this high? Are you trying to break your ankle?” He saw me then. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it settled back into its usual cool, distant mask. He probably expected me to rush over, to make a scene. But I just looked away, my gaze dropping to my phone to check the status of my rideshare. The fever had left me weak, and a wracking cough escaped my lips. Frank’s eyes snapped to me, lingering for a second on my pale, tired face. His frown deepened. “Get in the car, Monica.” He walked over to me, his tone condescending. “If you wanted me to drive you home, you just had to ask.” “I didn’t.” He didn’t seem interested in whether I was telling the truth. He simply grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards his car. The air was thick with a familiar gardenia scent. It was coming from her. Seraphina. He handed me a bottle of water. I didn’t take it, so he tossed it onto the seat beside him. The silence in the car was suffocating. Seraphina let out a few delicate coughs. “Frank, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice soft and fragile. “I think I caught a chill yesterday. My throat is a little sore.” Instantly, Frank opened the glove compartment and handed her a box of throat lozenges. His voice was laced with a tenderness I had never heard before. “I told you the temperature drops at night here. I told you to bring a jacket, but you never listen.” Seraphina popped one into her mouth and smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. “You’re always so thoughtful.” Frank? Thoughtful? I scoffed internally. Only for her. They fell into easy conversation, reminiscing about old times, their words flowing with an unspoken intimacy and shared history. I sat in the back, a complete outsider. Eventually, I just closed my eyes. When I opened them again, we were home. Seraphina was gone. Frank unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at me, his gaze lingering on my pale face. His brow was knitted in a tight knot. “Monica,” he said, his voice low and tinged with an irritation he couldn’t hide. “Do we really have to do this?” I met his eyes, confused. “If you want my attention, you can just say so. You don’t have to make yourself sick just to get me to notice you.” His voice was even, but every word was a razor blade, slicing at a heart that was already in pieces. I didn’t know what he was so angry about. Maybe I had ruined his precious reunion with Seraphina. Maybe I was just an inconvenience he was forced to deal with. “You give yourself way too much credit, Frank.” My voice was hoarse, but I fought to keep it steady. “I didn’t want a ride, and I certainly wasn’t trying to get your attention. It’s just a fever. I’m not an invalid.” I paused, then delivered the final blow. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. We’re not together anymore.” He let out a short, sharp laugh. “Not together? Monica, don’t forget, you still have the heirloom my grandmother gave you for our engagement.” His voice turned hard. “This whole ‘calling off the wedding’ tantrum is getting old. I’ll let it slide once or twice. I’ll even play along and humor you. But if you say it again, I’ll make it real. And when that happens, don’t you dare come crawling back to me.” My throat was raw. I didn’t have the energy for this. I opened the car door, but he was faster. He got out, came around to my side, and swept me up into his arms. It wasn’t a gentle gesture; it was rough, angry, but he didn’t let me fall. Inside, he placed me on the sofa and found the first-aid kit. He took my temperature and got me a glass of water, his movements efficient, his expression cold. I let him do it, my body pliant and silent. This was Frank. Hot and cold, a puzzle I could never solve. He would offer these small, almost insignificant moments of care that would send my hopes soaring, only to plunge me back into despair. But I was done trying to figure him out. “Thanks,” I rasped. I met his deep gaze and asked calmly, “Is there anything else?” His lips tightened. He seemed to be wrestling with himself before he finally spoke. “Don’t you have anything to ask me?” I shook my head. I didn’t need to. I’d already seen Seraphina’s latest social media post. A photo geotagged at the airport with the caption: “It’s been a while. Hope you’ve been well.” Frank had liked it. “I’m really tired. I need to rest,” I said, pushing myself up from the sofa. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” In a few days, once my things were packed, I would be gone for good. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. “Monica!” His voice was laced with a frustrated helplessness. “I picked Sera up because she doesn’t know anyone else here. She twisted her ankle. I couldn’t just leave her there, could I?” It was the first time he had ever offered me an explanation. But I no longer cared to hear it. “Of course,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. “You did the right thing.” He stared at me, searching my blank expression for any sign of jealousy or hurt. He found none. “Monica, Sera and I are just friends now.” “I know,” I said, nodding with a disinterest that was entirely genuine. Suddenly, he pulled me against him, his body a familiar, burning warmth that I had once craved more than anything. He knew I loved his hugs. He thought this one simple gesture could break down my defenses, just like it always had before. But my body remained stiff. I raised my hands and pushed against his chest. “Let go of me, Frank.” He froze, clearly stunned by my reaction. A dark, ugly expression clouded his face. The next day, I went to my office to hand in my resignation. I was told a major client was visiting. And there was Frank, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, exuding an aura of power as he led the way. The “secretary” by his side was Seraphina. “This way, please,” I said, my voice so professional it surprised even me. I led them to the conference room. Throughout the meeting, Frank’s eyes would occasionally drift to me, analytical and assessing. Seraphina would catch his eye and they would share a small, knowing smile. I overheard two junior colleagues whispering behind me. “Mr. Vance is so handsome. And so successful. Did you see how thoughtful he was with his secretary?” “I know! He even pulled out her chair for her. They look so perfect together.” Their words were like tiny needles piercing my heart. In three years, Frank had never once come to my office, not even to pick me up. The first time he ever set foot in my workplace was for this. With her. The irony was crushing. After my presentation, Frank spoke, his tone dismissive. “Ms. Ross is clearly an expert on this project. She will be your point of contact going forward.” “But, sir…” one of my colleagues started, about to mention my impending resignation. But Frank had already turned and was walking away, Seraphina at his side. He didn’t look back. Their silhouettes, side by side, were a perfect match. A picture-perfect couple. It had taken me three years to finally understand that the place beside him was never meant for me. This weekend was his grandmother’s 80th birthday. I had promised her months ago that I would be there. After much hesitation, I decided to go. After all, I had something I needed to return. The party was held in the grand ballroom of the city’s finest hotel, filled with industry titans and socialites. It was as much a business gathering as a family celebration. Frank, of course, was one of the stars of the show. And standing next to him, exquisitely dressed, was Seraphina. He was leaning in, listening intently as she spoke. His eyes occasionally swept over to my side of the room, as if gauging my reaction. A moment later, Seraphina seemed to choke on her champagne. He was instantly at her side with a napkin, his movements practiced and intimate. Halfway through the dinner, I needed some air. I stepped out onto the terrace and heard voices coming from the shadows. It was Frank and his best friend. “Fighting with Monica again?” Frank grunted an affirmation, swirling the wine in his glass. His friend sighed. “Man, I don’t get you. You obviously care about her, but you always have to be so difficult. You always make her be the one to back down. You’re lucky she’s so patient.” “I know,” Frank said, his voice unreadable. “You know? You know, and you still bring Seraphina to your grandmother’s birthday party? That’s a slap in the face, and you know it. She has to know about your history.” “Aren’t you afraid you’ll push her too far? That she’ll finally get fed up and leave you?” There was a pause. “She won’t,” Frank said, his tone one of absolute certainty. “Monica… she would never leave me.” He was always so confident. Confident in my love, in my tolerance, in the belief that I would always forgive him. It’s what allowed him to be so reckless. I was about to turn away when a soft voice spoke from behind me. “Ms. Ross? Fancy seeing you here. Can we talk for a moment?” Seraphina approached, her tone as warm as if we were old friends. “We’ve never had the chance to be properly introduced. I’m Seraphina.” She smiled, but her eyes held a glint of challenge. “You’ve probably heard of me, but I’m just Frank’s secretary now. I hope that’s not a problem for you.” My expression remained neutral. “Are we supposed to know each other, Ms. Vane?” My calm dismissal clearly annoyed her. A flicker of anger crossed her face. Then, she swayed, stumbled, and fell to the ground, taking a champagne tower down with her. The crash was deafening. Frank was there in an instant. “Monica, what the hell did you do?” he snarled, his eyes blazing. “What is wrong with you?” I didn’t bother to explain. Instead, I picked up a fresh glass of red wine, walked right up to him, and threw its contents in his face. As he stared at me in stunned disbelief, and Seraphina gaped from the floor, I raised an eyebrow. “See that, Frank?” I said. “That I did.”

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After I called off my engagement to Max, we ran into each other in the maternity ward of the hospital. He was holding hands with his first love, Ava, their fingers intertwined, their every move an intimate dance. When Ava saw the pregnancy report in my hand, her eyes instantly welled with tears. Max’s brow furrowed, his expression cold as ice. “Deal with it. Don’t make a scene.” I shot him a chilling glance. “It’s not yours.” Later, his voice was tight with desperation, “Even if it’s not mine, I’ll claim it.” But then he saw Teddy, wrapped in a towel with his sculpted torso on full display, strolling out of the bathroom. “Well, Max,” Teddy drawled, “Trying to steal my wife and my kid? You really are ambitious, aren’t you?” 1 The text from Max canceling our engagement arrived while I was at the hotel, finalizing the layout and details with the wedding planner. “Ava’s back. The engagement is off.” I stared at the screen, the air knocked from my lungs. I was frozen in place. The planner was still talking right next to me, but his voice was a muffled drone. I couldn’t make out a single word. “And then what?” I typed, my hands trembling. Max’s reply was instant, devoid of any hesitation. “She’s been diagnosed with severe depression. She’s back in the country for treatment and can’t handle any stress.” I remembered the taunting message Ava had sent me just last night. “As long as I want him, you two will never get married.” I had thought, with both our families and all our friends already notified, that Max wouldn’t indulge her games this time. But I had underestimated how much she meant to him. Swallowing my rage, my fingers flew across the screen. “So when she’s cured, we can get engaged then?” I had no intention of arguing with him about whether Ava was truly sick. Even if I exposed her lies, Max would just see it as me being unreasonable. He didn’t reply. My message vanished into a digital abyss. A wave of icy dread washed over me, starting from my toes and creeping to my fingertips, as if I’d been doused with freezing water in the dead of winter. He always did this—ran from our problems. In his mind, I’d cool down and come back to him eventually. But this time, I was just… tired. I had no fight left in me to compete with Ava for his love, no energy left to wait for another empty apology and another broken promise. I called off the hotel staff and paid the cancellation fee. Then, I sent Max one last message. “We’ll notify our own friends and family.” His reply was brutally simple: “Okay.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I deleted him from my contacts. 2 My seven years with Max had been a roller coaster of breaking up and getting back together. And every single time, it was because of Ava. He loved her but couldn’t marry her. He didn’t love me, but I was the one he was supposed to marry. Max’s mother had once told me, quite bluntly, that she wasn’t looking down on my family’s fallen fortune. She had pushed for this engagement under immense pressure because she thought I was beautiful enough, and that the history we shared as childhood sweethearts was strong enough. She hoped I could be the one to finally tie Max down and drive away the delusional woman hovering around him. I used to believe that if I just tried hard enough, if I just stayed by his side, one day he would finally see me. But that day never came. My love for him had been worn down, piece by piece, until nothing was left. When I got back to our house to pack, Max still wasn’t home. He was at a restaurant, having dinner with Ava. She’d posted a picture on her Instagram. Max’s face wasn’t in it, but the ring on his hand was unmistakable. It was one of the engagement rings we had picked out together. I slipped my own ring off and placed it on the dining table. But then I reconsidered. Why bother trying to get his attention? I picked up the ring, walked to the bathroom, and flushed it down the toilet without a second thought. I was dragging my suitcase to the front door when Max walked in, carrying Ava in his arms. “Long time no see,” I said breezily, nodding at Ava. Ava looked startled, glancing at Max, completely at a loss. I suppose she was used to me turning into a screaming wreck after a few of her provocations. My current state of calm seemed to have thrown her off completely. Max’s gaze landed on the suitcase in my hand. His surprise was fleeting, his expression quickly returning to its usual indifference. “This is for the best,” he said. “You moving out for a while will be better for Ava’s recovery.” Asking his fiancée to move out of their home so his first love could recuperate there. He said it so shamelessly, so matter-of-factly. And I had loved this piece of trash for seven years… I was done playing games. I pulled my suitcase and walked out without looking back. As I walked away, I heard him say, “Don’t worry about her. She always comes crawling back.” Ava’s voice was a sweet pout. “You’re not even going to comfort me when I’m upset?” “How could I ever bear to make you upset?” I fought the bile rising in my throat and walked faster. 3 I moved back into the apartment I’d bought myself. It was situated above a bustling commercial district. I liked the noise, the energy, the feeling of life. Max preferred quiet. He hated this apartment. And he especially hated my neighbor, Teddy. Another golden boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth, just like him. Max despised Teddy. I think it was because he was jealous of Teddy’s courage to fight for love, a courage Max himself lacked. Teddy had the guts to break with his family over a woman; Max didn’t. And Teddy was far more reckless than Max ever could be. The woman Teddy wanted to marry was a B-list actress, plagued by scandals from the moment she entered the industry. His family would never allow an actress, a “performer,” to marry their heir. So Teddy simply walked away, ready to build his own empire rather than compromise. Compared to Max, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too, I genuinely admired Teddy’s unwavering devotion. The night I moved in, Max did something he never did: he called me. “I’m worried Ava will get upset if she sees the things you left behind,” he said, his tone still dripping with that condescending generosity. “Where are you now? I’ll have them sent over.” I didn’t stop folding my clothes, just cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear. “Just toss them,” I said nonchalantly. “It’s all stuff I don’t need anymore.” Silence on the other end, punctuated only by the sound of his heavy breathing. A moment later, his voice was tight with anger. “Cara! What the hell is your problem?” “The engagement is only postponed. Once Ava is stable…” I cut him off, unable to listen anymore. “Sorry, Mr. Cole, I’m really busy right now.” I hung up and blocked his number. Stepping out onto the balcony, I let the night breeze wash over me, gazing at the glittering city lights. Leaving Max was easier than I ever imagined. A soft, rhythmic sound from below broke the quiet. I instinctively leaned over the railing to look. The balcony below was lush with plants. Through the leaves, I could just make out a pair of pale hands gripping the railing, and the top of a bobbing head. Well now. That was Teddy’s apartment, where he lived with the actress. Those two certainly knew how to have fun. Not wanting to pry, I went back inside to finish unpacking. Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. When I opened it and saw who was standing there, my brain short-circuited for a second. If Teddy was here… Then who was that downstairs?! 4 A flicker of surprise crossed Teddy’s eyes as well. “Sorry, wrong door,” he said, turning to leave. “I just moved in today,” I called after him. “Want to come in for a drink?” I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I felt a bit sorry for him. A fellow member of the recently-cheated-on club. Teddy turned back, an eyebrow arched. “Oh? So we don’t have to keep our distance anymore?” Max hated Teddy, which meant he hated me having any contact with him. Even though Teddy was the primary investor in my chain of flower shops, we barely ever met, save for a brief meeting at the end of the year to go over profits. Come to think of it, it was through Max’s family connections that I was able to reconnect with Teddy and secure his investment in the first place. The shops were now turning a healthy profit, which gave me the courage to walk away from Max. So, I guess my seven years with Max weren’t a complete waste. I shrugged. “We broke up.” “Again?” A smirk played on Teddy’s lips, a hint of schadenfreude in his eyes. He strolled in, draping himself over my sofa and propping his long legs up on my coffee table. He had none of the cool, aristocratic air I remembered from our first few meetings; he was all casual, roguish charm. I picked out a fine bottle of red from my wine cabinet. “This time, the engagement’s off.” I handed him a glass, my expression neutral. He swirled the wine, a laugh bubbling up. “Whoa, expensive stuff.” “Looks like you got hit hard this time. Need me to help you drink your sorrows away?” If he hadn’t knocked on the wrong door, he’d be the one getting hit much, much harder. I nodded. “It is expensive. It was a gift from you, last year at the annual party, after you got drunk.” It was a collector’s vintage. I hadn’t wanted to take it back to Max’s place, so I’d stored it here. Now, it was finding its way back to its original owner. Teddy’s eyes widened slightly before he tipped his head back and downed the glass in one go. “Well, let’s just call it a celebration of your escape from hell.” I raised my glass. “And here’s to you…” “…finding your own true love soon.” Being cheated on is something no man wants to hear about from someone else, especially from a woman he barely knows. Unfortunately, my subtle hint went right over his head. He just smiled, his handsome, almond-shaped eyes holding a charm that could bewitch anyone. A blind man, it turned out. “My true love is right here with me,” he said. “You should save that toast for yourself.” But thinking back, wasn’t I just as blind? Teddy was willing to break from his family for that actress. And my own heart had been shattered into a million pieces by Max. 5 The wine went down easy, but the delayed punch of the cabernet was brutal. Before I knew it, I was completely wasted. I was clinging to Teddy, a mess of tears and laughter, cursing Max one minute and myself the next. Teddy gently pushed me away, his tone teasing. “If Max saw you holding onto another man like this,” he drawled, “he wouldn’t take you back even if you begged him on your knees.” The memory of the past seven years, of me always being the one to swallow my pride and beg for reconciliation, flooded back. Fueled by alcohol, all my pent-up frustrations came pouring out. “This time, I’m the one who doesn’t want him!” I slurred. “Even if he gets on his knees and begs me, I’m not going back!” “You mean it?” Teddy’s voice was intense, his gaze burning. Sprawled on the sofa, I didn’t see the galaxy of stars glittering in his eyes. I just mumbled, “As real as it gets.” In the hazy space between dream and reality, I felt a warm pressure on my lips. An electric tingle traced paths across my skin. Instinctively, I responded to the searing heat, giving in to the passion. When my mind finally cleared, it was noon the next day. My entire body ached, as if it had been run over by a truck. My eyes fell to the floor, where a tangled mess of clothes lay discarded. Then I saw him. Lying next to me, bare-chested, was Teddy. His long lashes rested on his cheeks, deep in sleep. A few faint, rosy marks—kisses—were scattered across his muscular chest. Flashes of the night before… My mind exploded. Did I just have a one-night stand with Teddy?! Whatever his girlfriend was doing last night, they were still together. What did that make me? How was I any different from her? If word got out that I’d broken them up, the gossip would bury me alive. Holding my breath, I carefully lifted Teddy’s arm from around my waist. Like a thief, I tiptoed around, gathered my clothes, grabbed my phone, and fled my own apartment. I didn’t feel safe until I was speeding towards my office, the gas pedal pressed to the floor. I just had to hope that when Teddy woke up, he’d be just as eager as I was to forget last night’s insane mistake. “Ms. Lin, Mr. Cole is waiting for you in your office,” my assistant whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “He was… really angry earlier.” She must have caught the brunt of his temper. I walked in. Max was leaning against my desk, arms crossed. My suitcase was on the floor beside him. He saw me and his face hardened into a scowl. “Cara, you’ve got some nerve, blocking my number!” He gestured to the suitcase. “Here’s the rest of your stuff. You can move back in once Ava’s feeling better.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “The engagement is off. Why would we need each other’s numbers? Please do me a favor and block me too.” Max’s eyes flashed with surprise, then irritation. “What kind of game are you playing now? I’ve told you before, you can’t compete with Ava. In my life, she will always come first.” “If you want to be Mrs. Cole, you’ll learn to behave.” 6 I couldn’t take it anymore. “Mr. Cole, was I not clear enough?” “We. Called. Off. The. Engagement.” “Who you put first has absolutely nothing to do with me. Do you understand?” I enunciated each word of that last sentence. He froze, his gaze locking with my cold, indifferent stare. For the first time, Max lost his composure in front of me, his mask of superiority crumbling. A vein pulsed in his neck as he pointed a trembling finger at me. “Cara! If you think I have the time or patience for your little push-and-pull games, you’re dead wrong! This is your one and only chance. Either you play along and wait until Ava’s better for our engagement, or you get out of my life and never show your face again!” Without a word, I bent down and picked up the files he had angrily swept to the floor. “Just as long as you stop showing up here and throwing tantrums, Mr. Cole, I can guarantee you’ll never see me again.” He was so used to me fawning over him that my blatant disregard was more than he could handle. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. “Don’t come crawling back to me like a pathetic dog,” he snarled. “I’m sick of watching you beg!” His words were like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. Even though the love was gone, seven years of my life, a heart offered so freely, being trampled on like this… it still hurt. But I didn’t have much time to wallow. My phone began to explode with calls and texts from Teddy. “So you just eat and run? Classy.” “Is this how you treat your lead investor?” “Was I that bad last night?” “You have three minutes to answer your phone, or I’m coming to your office.” My heart hammered against my ribs as I read his messages. I was terrified. In a panic, I did the only thing I could think of: I turned off my phone. Last night wasn’t my idea, but… I hadn’t exactly said no. Teddy was reckless. He feared nothing and no one. I wasn’t like him. My business was just taking off; I had too much to lose. I couldn’t fight him, so I had to run. I booked the next flight to Paris. The visa was originally for my honeymoon with Max. Now, I was using it to escape a different kind of entanglement.

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My fiancé’s childhood sweetheart sabotaged my wedding three times. First, she flew back from overseas, intercepted our wedding car, and dragged Liam away before he could reach me. She claimed his mother was unwell and needed him urgently. The second time, she drunkenly knelt in front of our motorcade, blocking the road so Liam couldn’t pick me up. She sobbed that it was all her fault and begged me to hit her. The third time, she secretly rerouted the entire procession to a remote cemetery. We arrived surrounded by tombstones. Each time, Liam defended her: his mother’s health, her sacrifices, her pain. But he didn’t know—after this final failure, his wedding would become his funeral. It wasn’t until the polished town car turned onto a gravel path flanked by tilting headstones that I realized Ava had played me again. She had taken advantage of the fact that I was a stranger in his sleepy hometown, quietly altering the GPS coordinates. She’d sent us to this godforsaken boneyard. Outside, the hired drivers got out to smoke, their eyes darting towards me, filled with a cruel, mocking pity. “That’s three strikes. Pretty clear the groom doesn’t want to marry her.” “Tell me about it. I heard this is the bride’s first time in his hometown. He’s never even brought her to meet the family!” “Seriously, who gets married in a cemetery?” I sat in the back, my knuckles white, crushing the delicate stems of my bridal bouquet. The pristine white lace of my dress, once a symbol of hope, now felt like a costume for a fool. Just last night, Liam had sworn to me, promised that this time, his precious Ava wouldn’t interfere. And now, here I was, the punchline to a joke I never wanted to be a part of. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Liam, a reply to the one I’d sent thirty minutes ago. “Sorry. Ava said it was just a joke. Don’t get worked up over nothing. I’m on my way to get you now, okay?” This was the man who used to reply to my texts in seconds. Ever since Ava came back, his responses had grown slower, shorter, colder. In the passenger seat, Liam’s mother, who had been listening to the voice note, turned a terrifying shade of purple. She clutched her chest, her voice a low growl. “Clara… Liam… does he always treat you like this?” “This is… this is unforgivable.” Her health had been fragile for years; she’d been in a private care facility overseas and had missed the first two failed weddings. But she was finally well enough to be discharged, and she’d insisted on coming with me today to surprise Liam. Her face a mask of cold fury, she dialed his number. He rejected the call. She tried again. Rejected. Finally, on the third try, he picked up, his voice exploding through the speaker before she could even say a word. “Clara, I already said I’m coming! What more do you want?” he snarled. “She lost me forever, and you’re the one who gets to marry me! Can’t you be a little more gracious? Don’t you forget, she’s the one who’s been looking after my mother all this time!” And then, a different voice cut through the line, a soft, whimpering cry. It was Ava. “Liam, I can’t bear it… I really can’t live without you…” Her whimper suddenly sharpened, rising into a high, theatrical moan. A sound that anyone with a pulse knew the meaning of. The line went dead. Liam’s mother was hyperventilating, her words choked with rage. “That bastard! That absolute bastard!” The world went silent. A sharp pain bloomed in my palm. I looked down. My nails had dug so deep into my skin that blood was welling up, warm and sticky. It was the only thing that felt real. Liam and I had never— “Give this one to Wendy, too. Look at you, you’re still standing and yelling. You’re not that fragile.” “Do you really think you’re some kind of national treasure? Can’t handle a little hardship?” His arrogant, dismissive tone was more suffocating than the thin mountain air. My custom-blended oxygen, my emergency medication—all of it had become offerings for him to appease his little protégée. The other assistants on the shoot busied themselves with the camera equipment, pretending not to see the confrontation. I felt like a patient whose life support had just been unplugged, gasping for air on the edge of life and death. “Acute altitude sickness can cause pulmonary and cerebral edemas… It can kill you!” I hissed, the words scraping my throat. “Pulmonary edema? Who are you trying to scare?” Kieran rolled his eyes. Wendy played her part beautifully, shrinking behind him. “Sloan, I know you don’t like me… but Kieran said you’re experienced. I’m sure a little situation like this is nothing for you.” She even had the audacity to flash a peace sign at the GoPro clipped to her collar. The sight of her smug face sent a wave of dizziness through me. “Enough!” I lunged for my oxygen tank. Kieran shoved me back, hard. I stumbled, nearly falling into the snow. “What do you think you’re doing?! If something happens to Wendy, can you take responsibility for that?!” Wendy immediately clutched her chest, her voice turning faint. “Kieran, I… I don’t feel so good again… Maybe I shouldn’t have come… Does Sloan think I’m stealing her spotlight…?” “It’s not your fault. She’s just being selfish!” Kieran wrapped an arm around her, comforting her in a low voice. “She’s just spoiled. Thinks the whole world revolves around her.” The wind and snow seemed to pick up, blurring my vision. I watched them huddled together for warmth, a perfect couple against the stark white landscape, completely ignoring me, his supposed fiancée. A lethal cocktail of rage and the creeping, black-edged feeling of suffocation churned within me. With a surge of adrenaline, I smashed the helium canister I was holding against a nearby shard of ice. “Kieran!” I screamed, my voice raw. “We’re done! The engagement is OFF!” Kieran froze, his expression twisting from surprise to fury. He took a step toward me, his voice sharp. “Sloan! What the hell is wrong with you? You’re calling off our engagement over something this petty? Do you even hear yourself?!” “Petty?” The word was a pained gasp forced from my lungs. “Swapping out my life-saving oxygen… is petty?” Wendy immediately stepped forward, her voice trembling. “Kieran, don’t be angry… It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t be so weak…” “Sloan must just be saying that because she hates me…” she whispered, but her eyes held a flicker of triumphant glee. Marco, one of the local guides, couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Mr. Thompson,” he said, his brow furrowed with concern, “Ms. Vance really doesn’t look well. Altitude sickness is no joke. Maybe we should…” “You don’t understand, Marco!” Kieran cut him off without a hint of politeness. “She’s just out of shape and loves to play the victim! Every shoot is the same damn drama. Remember the Gobi Desert? The entire crew had to wait for her because she got a little heatstroke. Now she’s pulling the same crap here!” His words were like icicles stabbing into me. In the Gobi, I had pushed myself to capture the perfect light at dusk and nearly died from heatstroke. In his eyes, it was just me being dramatic. “Yeah,” another assistant, one of Kieran’s close friends, muttered under his breath. “Sloan, Kieran is just thinking about the big picture. Wendy’s new to this kind of high-stakes project. It’s only right to look after her. You’re the veteran. You can tough it out.” I stared at him, my vision blurring with involuntary tears. “Tough it out? How… how am I supposed to…” My lungs felt like they were filling with concrete. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. A violent throbbing started in my temples, a precursor to the deadly edemas I knew were coming. Seeing my state, Wendy’s face crumpled as if she were the one in agony. “Sloan, please don’t be like this,” she cried. “I hate seeing you two fight because of me… Here, why don’t you just take the oxygen back? I’ll… I’ll be fine…” She made a show of reaching for her mask. Kieran grabbed her hand, his voice a mixture of anger and tenderness. “Wendy, don’t be ridiculous! She’s just trying to guilt-trip you! Anyone can play the victim.” He whipped his head back to me, his eyes filled with cold disgust. “Sloan, I was so wrong about you. I can’t believe how selfish and petty you are, bullying a newcomer like this. Does everyone have to worship at your feet for you to be happy?” “Do you remember that time you got trapped in an avalanche? Who was it that moved heaven and earth to get a rescue team to you? And now, because you’re feeling a little uncomfortable, you’re willing to ruin this entire project for everyone?” He was talking about the time I risked my life to get a shot for his father’s company. Now, he was using it as a weapon against me. A blinding headache made it impossible to form a coherent response. All I could do was gasp, my mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. Wendy, hiding behind Kieran, allowed a tiny, cruel smirk to flash across her face before her expression shifted back to one of deep concern. “Kieran, her face… it looks awful. You don’t think she’s actually…” “It’s an act! All of it!” he declared. “She’s a brilliant actress! This is just another way to manipulate me, to control me. Well, I’m not falling for it.” He took out his own thermos, twisted it open, and held it to Wendy’s lips. “Here, Wendy. Have some hot water. Ignore her. She just needs to cool off.” The steam from the thermos rose in a soft cloud, a stark contrast to the glacial cold that was seeping into my bones. Despair, as unyielding as the ancient ice beneath my feet, began to freeze me from the inside out. My body slid down the side of the ice wall. My consciousness began to fray. The image of Kieran shielding Wendy, the whispered conversations of the crew—they all blurred into distorted, ghostly shapes. The bottle of high-altitude medication that could save my life was sitting right by Wendy’s feet. It was only a few yards away, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. Just then, Wendy silently crouched in front of me. She pulled down her mask. Her cheeks were rosy, her breathing even. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “How does it feel to suffocate, Sloan, you great photographer?” A cruel smile stretched her lips. “Kieran’s been sick of you for ages. He says you’re rigid, boring… like an old woman. Once you have your little ‘accident,’ your fame, your work, and your fiancé… I’ll be happy to take them off your hands.” She patted my cheek, her touch like ice. “Don’t worry. Your memorial service for ‘dying in the line of duty’ will be spectacular.” Wendy’s words were the final snowflake that triggered the avalanche in my mind. I wanted to slap her, but the advanced altitude sickness had stolen all my strength. All I could do was lie there, feeling the warmth bleed out of my body. Just as my vision was about to be swallowed by darkness, Wendy decided she wasn’t done. Her eyes glinted, and she reached out, grabbing the front of my parka. “Sloan, are you too hot? Your face is so red. Let me help you cool down.” RRRRIP! The high-quality, windproof fabric tore open with a sickening sound. My neck and chest were instantly exposed to the sub-zero air. The cold was a physical thing, a thousand tiny knives sinking into my skin. “You…!” I stared at her, trying to scream, but only a choked gurgle came out. My body began to tremble violently from hypothermia. Wendy scrambled back, her face instantly transforming into a mask of panic. “Kieran! Sloan… she’s tearing her own clothes off! I tried to stop her!” Kieran spun around. He saw my exposed skin, Wendy’s frantic expression, and his face hardened into a scowl. “Sloan!” he stormed over, his voice laced with exasperation and fury. “How long are you going to keep this up?! Are you trying to kill yourself just to make a point?!” He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. He didn’t care about the truth. “It wasn’t… me… it was her…” I managed to stammer through chattering teeth. “Enough!” Kieran shouted. “It’s always someone else’s fault! You can’t control your emotions, and now you’re resorting to self-harm to threaten us? Do you think this is fun? Do you think this makes you look sympathetic? It doesn’t! It just makes you look pathetic!” His words hailed down on me, merciless and cold. He looked at my crumpled form in the snow, his eyes holding not a shred of warmth, only pure, undiluted disgust. “Fine, Sloan. You want to act?” He sneered, pulling his own storm mask tighter. “Then stay here and put on your show. We’re resting for ten more minutes, then we’re moving to the next location. If you can’t keep up, you can stay here and perform your tragedy for the mountains.” He turned his back on me without a second thought.

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My son had been kidnapped. The ransom was one hundred million dollars. When I went to wire the money, I discovered my husband’s executive assistant had frozen our accounts. I stormed into his office to confront her. She tossed a check on the desk—it was for two hundred and fifty dollars. Chloe smirked. “Maybe you could negotiate with them? Ask for a payment plan? I’m sure they’d be willing to return the kid in installments, too.” Rage, white-hot and blinding, washed over me. I slapped her, hard, across the face. Then again. That’s when Carter arrived. He didn’t hesitate. A swift, brutal kick landed squarely in my chest, knocking the air from my lungs. He pulled Chloe into his arms, shielding her as if I were the threat. His eyes, when they met mine, were chips of ice. “Chloe was just making a joke, Evelyn. You had no right to lay a hand on her.” His voice was dangerously calm. “And since we’re being honest… our son isn’t coming back. So I might as well tell you. Chloe and I have a child together. A boy. If you play your cards right, he might even be generous enough to call you ‘Mom’ one day.” My world fractured. At that exact moment, my phone buzzed. A video from the kidnappers. It was a close-up of a small hand, followed by the sickening crack of bone as they broke every single one of his fingers. But as the child’s face, contorted in agony, filled the screen, a strange, chilling calm descended over me. I recognized that face. I smiled, a thin, brittle thing, and transferred the $250. I attached a note: His mother said you can have the money in installments. I guess you can return him the same way. 1 The first thing I did after the transfer was place a video call to my son, Leo. He answered almost immediately, his sweet, familiar face filling my screen. “Mom! I’m still in Berlin with Uncle Mark for the robotics championship! We’ll be on a flight home this afternoon. Don’t miss me too much, okay?” A wave of relief so powerful it felt like grief washed over me. My heart, which had been a stone in my chest, finally started to beat again. I hung up and turned, just in time to see Chloe directing facilities management to hang black-and-white portraits of Leo around the office. Memorial photos. The rage returned, a tidal wave in my blood. I snatched one of the portraits from the wall and tore it to shreds. Chloe blinked, a perfect picture of innocence. “Evelyn, I know this is hard to accept, but I was just trying to help you find some closure. There’s no need to lash out.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “The only person who needs to be grieving here is you. It’s your son they took.” For a split second, her face went slack, her skin ashen. Then she crumpled into Carter’s arms, her shoulders shaking with manufactured sobs. “Even if I didn’t pay… how could she say something so horrible? How could she curse my Sterling?” Carter’s eyes burned with a righteous fury. He struck me, a sharp, stinging slap that rocked my head to the side. “So what if I don’t want to pay?” he snarled, his voice low and menacing. “For years, you and that boy have been leeches, bleeding me dry.” He gestured to my clothes with a contemptuous flick of his wrist. “You want money? Start taking things off. Ten thousand dollars an item.” The scornful gazes of his employees were like a thousand tiny needles piercing my skin. My entire body trembled with fury. Fine. I walked to the head of the boardroom, connected my phone to the projector, and played the kidnapper’s video on the massive screen. The brutal, bloody images filled the room. No one could watch it without flinching in horror. Chloe let out a theatrical shriek and buried her face in her hands. Carter’s attention snapped to her immediately, which is why he missed it—the unmistakable resemblance between the tortured child on the screen and the woman sobbing in his arms. “Carter, it’s horrible,” she whimpered, clutching his suit jacket. “I’m going to have nightmares for weeks. I’m so scared.” He instantly ordered someone to smash the projection system, then shot me a look of pure loathing. “You think showing me this will make me feel sorry for you? Make me pay? You want to put on a show, Evelyn, you have to go all the way. Tell the kidnappers to send me his body.” I stared at the man before me, a stranger carved from ice and cruelty. We were college sweethearts, had built an empire together, weathered more than a decade of storms side-by-side. I couldn’t believe this was our final chapter. My voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. “Just make sure you don’t regret this, Carter.” He had the IT department forcibly wipe the video from my phone, ensuring Chloe wouldn’t be “traumatized” again. Tucked safely in his embrace, she shot me a triumphant, mocking smile. Just then, Carter’s phone rang. It was the kidnappers. “Mr. Harrison,” a gravelly voice threatened. “You’re a colder bastard than I thought. Don’t you even want your favorite son back?” “Maybe hearing him will change your mind.” A child’s agonized screams filled the line. “Daddy! Mommy! It hurts so much! Please, help me!” The color drained from Carter’s face. He looked down at Chloe, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Chloe… that sounds a little like Sterling.” She rolled her eyes, a perfect imitation of loving exasperation. “Don’t be silly. Sterling is safe at the Greenwich estate. It’s obviously Leo, trying to imitate his voice to trick you into saving him.” Comprehension dawned on Carter’s face, followed by a renewed wave of disgust directed at me. He spoke into the phone, each word a block of ice. “Kill him. I have other children.” He paused. “But do me a favor. Keep his kidneys. Freeze them and send them to me. Sterling needs a transplant. You do that, and I might even throw in ten million for your trouble.” The kidnapper laughed, a harsh, incredulous sound, and hung up. Watching Carter’s smug, cruel expression, a wave of nausea rose in my throat. I couldn’t take another second. I pulled the divorce papers from my purse and slammed them on the table. “I’m done, Carter. We’re getting a divorce.” He stared at me for a moment, then his face hardened into a mask of contempt. “Can’t get the ransom, so you threaten me with divorce? You’re getting more creative, I’ll give you that, Evelyn.” He snatched a pen and scrawled his name across the signature line, then threw the papers in my face. “Your doctor told me years ago, remember?” he sneered. “Your fertility was declining. By now, you’re nothing but a barren old hen. I was going to be generous. I was thinking I’d let you stay on as Sterling’s nanny, give you a few hundred bucks a month so you wouldn’t die alone. But you threw that away. Don’t come crawling back to me when you realize what you’ve lost.” My knuckles were white as I clutched the papers. It took every ounce of my self-control not to scream the truth at him—the truth I had hidden for years to protect his fragile ego. The doctor’s diagnosis hadn’t been for me. It had been for him. He swept Chloe into his arms, a picture of adoration. “Come on, darling. Let’s go to the hospital and arrange that transplant. Sterling is going to be whole again very soon.” True to their word, the kidnappers sent the kidney. Carter had me dragged to the hospital, insisting that since it was Leo’s kidney, I was the one who had to sign the organ donation consent forms. When I arrived, he was in the middle of wiring ten million dollars to the kidnappers, not blinking an eye. The voice on the phone was dark, laced with a strange significance. “You’re a generous man, Mr. Harrison. But like I said before, if I don’t see the full hundred million, you’re going to get your son back… piece by piece.” Carter hung up impatiently and shoved the forms at me. “Sign.” I looked at him, my face a blank mask. “This isn’t Leo’s kidney. It’s Sterling’s. Shouldn’t Chloe be the one signing this?” His fingers clamped around my jaw, his grip so tight I thought the bone would snap. “If I hear you curse my son’s name one more time,” he ground out, his voice like grinding steel, “I will kill you.” Just then, one of his executives rushed in, breathless with excitement. “Mr. Harrison! The tech team tracked the calls! We have the kidnappers’ location. We can give it to the police and get your son back!” I wrenched myself from Carter’s grasp. “Then what are you waiting for? Call them!” I despised Carter and Chloe, despised the secret life they’d built on a foundation of lies. But the child didn’t deserve to die. “No!” Carter’s voice was a whip crack. “Do not call the police! And tell the tech team to wipe all the location data immediately.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Carter, are you insane? That’s your son!” He whirled on me, his face a mask of rage. “Sterling needs that kidney! If the police get involved, they’ll put it back in Leo’s body. Are you really willing to let a child die just to save Leo? Is that how selfish you are?!” To make sure I couldn’t act, he had his bodyguards smash my phone and tablet. I watched it all, numb, a storm of hatred and vindication brewing inside me. You chose this, Carter. This is all on you. At that moment, Chloe ran in, her face streaked with tears. “Carter! I called the estate to have them bring Sterling for the surgery, but they said he’s gone! He’s missing!” Panic flared across Carter’s handsome features. Chloe’s eyes, full of venom, locked onto mine. Then, she threw herself to the floor, kneeling at my feet. “Evelyn, I know you’re in pain,” she sobbed. “I know you resent that my Sterling is alive while you’re losing your own son. But take your anger out on me! Please… just give me my son back! I’m begging you!” I frowned, bewildered by her insane performance. Before I could speak, Carter’s foot slammed into my stomach. Pain exploded through me. I collapsed, gasping for air as agony ripped through my abdomen. Carter stood over me, his shadow falling across my face as he delivered his judgment. “Tell me where Sterling is. Now,” he said, his voice deadly soft. “Or I swear to God, I will end you.” It was a struggle to speak through the pain. “I told you… the kidnappers have Sterling. You need to talk to them, not me.” He let out a series of short, cold laughs. “Right.” He turned to his assistant. “Evelyn’s brother has been out of the country. Find out where he is. Now!” Minutes later, a stack of photos was in his hands. It was my brother, Mark, with Leo at an airport. Mark’s security detail is legendary; they’re the best in the world. The photographer had only been able to get shots from a distance, mostly of their backs. Even just seeing the familiar shape of Leo’s back made my heart ache. But in that moment, I had never been more grateful that he was safe. I pointed a trembling finger at the photo. “Open your damn eyes, Carter. That jacket Leo is wearing? You had it custom-made for his birthday last year. It’s one of a kind. That is Leo with my brother. Not Sterling.” Carter’s hand tightened on the photos, a flicker of panic in his eyes. But Chloe snatched them from him. “Don’t listen to her, Carter,” she insisted. “Look at his height, his build. It’s exactly like Sterling’s. That is our son. Believe me, the kidnappers would never touch Sterling.” Her absolute confidence was jarring. A wild, impossible thought began to form in the back of my mind. Carter’s brow smoothed. He stepped forward and ground his heel into the back of my hand. A sickening crunch echoed in the sterile room, followed by my own scream. The pain was blinding. In a frenzy, I lunged forward and bit his leg, my teeth sinking into the flesh. He yelped and pulled back, a sadistic smile twisting his lips. “Stop pretending. I know your brother has the resources to snatch Sterling without anyone knowing. But your protector isn’t in the country now, is he? If you don’t have him return my son, you’ll be joining yours in the grave.” I fought back tears of pain, about to speak, when a security guard entered with a box, a coppery smell wafting from it. “Mr. Harrison. This just arrived from the kidnappers.” He opened it. Inside lay a child’s severed arm. A note was tucked beside it. The first installment. If the money doesn’t come, the next one will be fatal. I stared at Carter, my voice ringing with desperate clarity. “If you have a shred of sense left, you’ll have a doctor do a DNA test on that arm and prove I’m telling the truth!” The challenge hit its mark. He started to call for a doctor. “Carter, no!” Chloe wrapped her arms around his, pouting. “Don’t fall for her tricks. A DNA test will take time. She’s just stalling until her brother gets back to save her.” He froze, understanding dawning in his eyes. The look he gave me was pure venom. “It seems you won’t learn until you’ve lost everything,” he whispered. “In that case, don’t blame me for what comes next.” He had me dragged to the estate’s dog kennels, where he kept a pack of half-starved wolves. Sterling’s arm was hung from the cage. The frenzied snarling of the animals made my blood run cold. Chloe leaned against Carter, a picture of smug pity. “You should just tell your brother to bring Sterling back, Evelyn. In a few minutes, that arm is going to be wolf food. I’ll tell you what… if you get on your knees and apologize for everything, I’ll be merciful and give you ten more minutes to think about it.” Carter stroked her hair. “You’re always too kind, my love.” I looked from them to the arm, my voice eerily calm. “You two really are a perfect match. Blind in exactly the same way. Can’t you see it? There’s an oval birthmark on the forearm. Leo doesn’t have a birthmark.” Chloe’s composure faltered for an instant. She stepped closer, squinting at the arm. Then she burst out laughing. “A birthmark? Evelyn, that’s a smudge of dried blood. I think you’re finally losing your mind.” Carter gently fed her a grape and gave a cold command. “Throw it in.” The wolves descended on the arm in a flurry of teeth and snarls. Carter watched me, his eyes searching my face for a flicker of grief, of pain. He found nothing. “Has she really gone insane?” he muttered, lighting a cigarette with a frustrated flick of his wrist. With a wave of his hand, a swarm of reporters and news crews flooded the area. Chloe winked at me. “See? I even called the media for you. With all this attention, I’m sure your precious Leo will be rescued soon.” She leaned in closer. “I’m even willing to forgive you for having your brother kidnap Sterling.” I couldn’t help but laugh, a raw, humorless sound. Everyone knows that involving the media in a kidnapping is a death sentence for the hostage. It only angers the captors. My heart ached for that poor, innocent child. I couldn’t stop the tears that welled in my eyes. “Do you really have to take it this far?” I whispered. Chloe moved beside me, her voice a venomous hiss for my ears only. “You should know, even if you returned Sterling, your son would still be dead. He’s in my son’s way. If he survives this, I’ll just arrange another accident. And another. Let’s see how long Leo’s luck holds out, shall we?” I snapped. My hand flew out, the crack of my palm against her cheek echoing in the sudden silence. She expertly used the momentum, stumbling backward and collapsing to the ground, her beautiful eyes filling with tears as she let out a wounded sob. Carter’s chest heaved with fury. He rushed to Chloe’s side, lifting her into his arms before turning to face the cameras, his voice booming with authority. “We have investigated this matter thoroughly. The kidnapping of my son, Leo, was orchestrated by his own mother, Evelyn Vance.” “Therefore, I will not be paying the ransom. Furthermore, as of this moment, I am officially and legally severing all ties with him. He is no longer my son.” He gestured to a lawyer, who stepped forward with a document. “The contract is prepared. It will be signed and effective immediately.” The media erupted. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved in my face, capturing my humiliation from every angle. The crowd of onlookers jeered, shouting insults, calling me a monster. Someone lunged forward, grabbing my hand, trying to force my thumb onto an ink pad. I wrenched free and locked eyes with Carter, a long, silent moment passing between us. Then, with a resolve that felt ancient and absolute, I bit down on my own thumb, drawing blood, and pressed a crimson print onto the paper. My voice was steady, each word a vow. “This is your choice, Carter. From this day forward, Leo has nothing to do with you.” A triumphant smile spread across Carter’s face. He leaned down and kissed Chloe. “It’s done, my love. From now on, everything I have belongs to Sterling. I promised you, and I delivered.” As they celebrated, a phalanx of large, professional-looking men in dark suits cut through the crowd, clearing a path. And then I heard a small, worried voice behind me. “Mom, don’t be scared! I brought Uncle Mark to come save you!”

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1 My son was trapped in a burning building while my billionaire husband photographed his new obsession. “Hold that pose, baby,” Scott Taylor said, his face lit by flames. “I’m getting you ‘Hero of the Year’.” His phone wasn’t aimed at real firefighters—but at Bella, drowning in an oversized uniform, posing with a discarded hose in the safe zone. She tried to turn it on, recoiled, and shrieked, “Jules, it’s too heavy!” Her foot slipped. The nozzle flew, and the water jet—powerful as a ram—shattered the last load-bearing wall. The building collapsed. Coddling her cost my son his last chance. He died buried alive. Scott emerged from rubble clutching his trembling pet, handing me a document coldly: “Sign this accident waiver. Your son was lost anyway. Bella’s traumatized—can’t be blamed.” My fingertips turned icy. He thought our son Leo was buried there. A cruel smile stretched my lips. “I can’t sign this. You’ll need his real mother to.” … Scott’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Sarah, what the hell are you talking about?” “Just sign the damn paper. Don’t push your luck.” Bella, nestled in his arms, began to sob, her body trembling like a leaf in an autumn wind. “Jules, don’t be mad at Sarah.” “Her son just… she must be heartbroken…” Giant, theatrical tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s all my fault. I was so stupid. If I had just been a little braver, maybe this wouldn’t have happened…” Scott looked as if his heart was breaking for her, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never, ever seen directed at me. “Bella, you’re just too good for this world,” he murmured. “That little brat was never going to amount to anything. His death is a public service. It has nothing to do with you.” He turned, his gaze stabbing into me like shards of ice. “Sarah, are you trying to drive a twenty-year-old girl to her grave? Is that what you want?” “Sign the paper. Then go online and tip Bella a million dollars on her livestream. Make a public statement thanking her for her bravery. Do you hear me?” I almost laughed out loud. When Scott got the call about the fire at our old family estate, he had rushed over with Bella, playing the hero. I’d foolishly thought it was a flicker of sentimentality. I see now he was just eager to create a PR opportunity for his new plaything. Now a child was dead, and the family was expected to pay the killer and sing her praises? But since Scott believed the dead boy was worthless, why should I argue? “I can sign,” I said. “But your word isn’t enough.” “Let’s do this: I’ll start a recording. You just repeat everything you just said. We’ll call it a supplementary statement for the authorities and the public.” Scott stared at me like I was insane. “Are you brain-dead? It’s your son who died, not mine.” “What the hell do I care that he’s dead?” That look on his face. So familiar. A few days ago, I’d overheard my mother-in-law on the phone. Scott’s son from his first marriage to Victoria, a boy named Marcus, was coming home from overseas to surprise him. Marcus was the pride of the family, a world-renowned architect at a young age. In contrast, my son with Scott, Leo, had always been frail and introverted. Later, Scott asked if Leo was playing at the old estate again. My mother-in-law shot me a look, begging me to keep Marcus’s surprise a secret, so I went along with it. Only now did I understand the thoughtful, calculating expression on Scott’s face when I’d confirmed it. It was disgust. And relief. Seeing me just standing there, holding my phone, he waved his hand in dismissal. “Fine, fine! I, Scott Taylor, confirm that Bella Vance bears no responsibility for this incident. Happy now?” “Now get out of my sight. Can’t you see how shaken she is?” Bella shrank into his embrace, but over his shoulder, her seemingly innocent eyes flashed with a triumphant, malicious glee. Scott shoved me aside. As he passed, he paused. “Stop playing the victim, Sarah. A kid like yours? The world is better off without him.” I truly hope he can maintain that same detached calm when he finds out it was his genius son who died. During a break in the recovery team’s work, a few firefighters and a police officer approached me to take my statement. They looked uncomfortable. Scott was the property owner, a family member of the deceased, and a powerful public figure. Before they could speak, I handed them the blank liability waiver and my phone with the recording. Every single one of them froze. Leaving the temporary command post, I walked toward the ruins. Halfway there, I saw Scott and Bella, wrapped around each other. He stopped me, shoving a piece of paper in my face. 2 I picked it up. It was an On-site Cremation Consent Form. Even knowing it wasn’t my son buried under that rubble, my face hardened. “I refuse. We find a body, dead or alive.” Bella let out a derisive laugh. “Oh, Sarah. Now is not the time to be so stubborn!” “If you ask me, the kid was just bad luck. A curse on his parents. God himself must have wanted him gone, burying him alive like that.” “Otherwise, why is everyone else fine, and he’s the only one in there?” Scott nodded with a smug, condescending smile. “Sarah, your son never did a single thing to make you proud in his life. Now that he’s dead, let’s not have him waste any more public resources.” “Disposing of the remains here saves the state some trouble. It’ll be the only contribution he’s ever made.” Have some respect for the dead. Even if it wasn’t his son. How could any human being say something so monstrous? I fought to control my rage. “That was a human life,” I said through clenched teeth. “Scott, do you even have a heart?” “I will never agree to this!” I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I thought the bones would snap. He raised his other hand, his eyes burning with menace. “You really want to do this the hard way, don’t you? You just don’t understand plain English!” I looked up, my gaze as cold as steel. “You lay one finger on me, Scott, and my parents will destroy you.” CRACK. The slap was so hard my head whipped to the side, my ears ringing. “You think your daddy the politician makes you untouchable?” he snarled. “You’re always holding your parents over my head. You think I’m scared of them?” He dragged my hand forward and forced my thumbprint onto the consent form. Then he shoved me violently, and I fell to the ground in a heap. I pushed myself up, staring at him in disbelief. The man who once couldn’t bear to speak a harsh word to me… had just hit me. Bella immediately rushed to his side, cradling his hand. “Jules, honey, don’t be angry. It’s not worth hurting your hand over someone like her!” Scott’s fury vanished, replaced by a tender concern for his little treasure. “You’re right, you’re right. Let’s not give her another thought.” “Come on, I’ll take you somewhere nice to eat. Help you calm your nerves.” Bella’s eyes darted around. “You go ahead, Jules,” she cooed. “I want to stay and help a little longer!” “Let me do one last thing for the deceased!” Once Scott was gone, Bella’s expression transformed. She walked to the edge of the rubble and picked up a blood-stained piece of concrete. She dropped it in disgust. “Ugh, so gross.” She then picked up a charred piece of wood and began poking at the debris. “This is such a huge mess. It’s going to take forever to dig him out.” “I wonder what he looks like under there. Probably all burnt up. I hope it doesn’t give me nightmares.” While she poked, she took out her phone, snapped a selfie with the ruins in the background, and sent it to Scott. The caption read: Mourning the lost. Hope there are no fires in heaven. Scott’s voice message came back instantly, dripping with affection. “My Bella is as beautiful as she is kind. Not like some people, who are just cold-hearted bitches.” “Don’t stay in that gloomy place too long. Don’t want you catching the bad juju from that place. I’m waiting in the car, baby.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, my stomach churning. Bella looked at me, a sweet, poisonous smile on her face. “Your son is so tragic. Not even a whole body left to bury.” “Sarah, he’s just a pile of meat now. What difference does it make if they dig him out or not? This is for the best. Don’t take it personally.” Of course I didn’t mind. If Scott, his own father, didn’t care, why should a stranger like me? But now that I had seen his true colors, I couldn’t stay with him a moment longer. God only knew when he would sell me and Leo out for his precious Bella. I snatched the phone from her hand and spoke into it. “Scott. I want a divorce.” 3 Scott stormed out of the car. “Sarah, have you lost your mind?” “Rescues are dangerous! Accidents happen! Your son is dead, and now you’re going to blame me?” I looked at him calmly. “I’m not blaming you. I just think we’re not right for each other.” He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress his anger. “I know this is hard for you to accept right now, but Bella and I did everything we could. You can’t just throw the word ‘divorce’ around like it’s a game.” Beside him, Bella let out a delayed gasp, pointing a finger at her own chest. “Sarah, if you’re not blaming Jules… are you blaming me?” Her eyes instantly reddened, and she sank to the ground, burying her face in her hands. “It’s all my fault. I couldn’t save your boy.” “Sarah, hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want! Just please, don’t divorce Jules! He’s innocent!” Scott rushed to help her up, then roared at me, “Bella is already under so much pressure, and you’re deliberately saying things to provoke her! What’s your problem?” “You want a divorce? Get a grip, Sarah. Your son is gone. Your parents are old. You think you’re still some untouchable princess?” “Let me make this clear: the only person you have to rely on from now on is me! Not those two washed-up relics you call parents!” I just watched him. His ugly, twisted face was reflected perfectly in my eyes. “Scott. You finally said what you really think.” “You used my father’s connections to climb the ladder, and now that you’re on top, you see my whole family as a burden.” “The sight of you right now makes me sick.” Scott’s face turned a shade of dark crimson. Bella looked completely lost, her eyes darting between us. “Fine! Divorce it is!” he screamed. “You’ve got balls, Sarah! I’ll give you that!” “You just better pray that your parents stay safe and sound for the rest of their lives, and you don’t come crying to me for help!” Before he left, he glanced back at the ruins. He picked up a property manager’s walkie-talkie and barked into it, “He’s a lost cause. Don’t waste any more manpower. Notify the family to prepare for the funeral.” I had intended to let Scott see his son one last time. Now, I realized, there was no need. A few days later, I arranged a small memorial service for Marcus and notified Scott and his family. He was, after all, my son in name. It was the least I could do. When I returned to the memorial hall after finishing the preparations, I was stunned by what I saw. Red paint had been splashed across Marcus’s portrait, and a cartoon turtle had been crudely drawn on his face. The tables, meant for flowers, were littered with snacks and beer cans. The solemn funeral music had been replaced by a deafening DJ track. “This is much better!” Bella giggled, kicking a funeral wreath aside before grabbing a marker to doodle on the memorial scrolls. I stared, my throat tight, unable to speak. Just then, the door opened. Scott strode in. He glanced at the chaos, but there was no anger on his face. In fact, a cold, satisfied smirk played on his lips. Bella winked at him and ran over like a puppy seeking praise. “Jules, you said you didn’t want the memorial to be so gloomy. What do you think of my decorations? Creative, right?” Scott walked up to the portrait and looked at the defaced image. He didn’t recognize his own son. He even reached out, straightened the frame that Bella had knocked askew, and nodded in satisfaction. His voice was low, but every word was a dagger. “Not bad. All that crying and wailing is so pathetic.” “This is how it should be. A big party. A fitting end.” 4 Even if he wasn’t my biological son, a person deserves respect in death. I stared at Scott, my voice trembling with rage. “You… you can still smile?” He looked at me, bewildered. “It’s a celebration of life, don’t you get it? Does everything have to be doom and gloom to be respectful?” “Your son loved a good party. I’m just giving him what he would have wanted.” “A celebration of life?” I walked toward him, my voice rising with every step. “This is a memorial service! You’ve destroyed his portrait so badly you can’t even recognize him… and you call that respect?” My voice was nearly a roar. “This isn’t honoring the dead! This is desecration!” Bella, startled by my outburst, pouted. “Oh, please. It’s the 21st century. Why are you so old-fashioned? It’s just a dead kid. No need to be so dramatic.” Seeing Scott’s completely unconcerned expression, I suddenly laughed. “If you don’t see a problem with it,” I said slowly, “then who am I to object?” “Let’s do it your way. A celebration of life it is.” Scott paused, a slight frown creasing his brow, as if he hadn’t caught the ice in my tone. He took it as surrender. “Sarah, that’s the spirit,” he said with a smile. “Don’t worry. From now on, I’ll be twice as good to you.” Seeing my compliance, Bella cheered and waved her pack of degenerate friends into the hall. The room quickly filled with the stench of alcohol and the sound of their drunken games. I sat in a corner, watching them, my face a mask of indifference. The emcee arrived on time, holding his program sheet, and froze in the doorway. “What are you waiting for?” Scott ordered. “It’s time. Let’s get started.” The man had no choice but to begin. “Friends, family… today we gather with heavy… uh… joyful hearts, to hold this… celebration of life for the deceased.” A few stifled snickers rose from the crowd. “I’ve seen a wedding get wild, but never a funeral!” “If the kid knew his memorial was a rave, he’d probably rise from the dead just to haunt them!” “No peace even in death. This family must have a lot of enemies.” Bella giggled, making sure I could hear her. “See? Even the emcee called it a celebration of life!” “And you were so angry before. You really need to get with the times! This is all the rage overseas!” Scott shot me a contemptuous look. “Some people are just so rigid. We went to all this trouble to throw your son a unique memorial, and you’re not even grateful.” My lips curved into a smile. “I’m sure my Leo would never be able to appreciate such a… unique memorial,” I said calmly. “As for whether your older son likes it… well, that I don’t know.” Scott’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I just smiled and said nothing. He snorted. “You think being clever with words will bring your son back?” “Pathetic.” Bella immediately linked her arm through his. “Jules, honey, ignore her. She just can’t stand to see you happy.” Just then, the emcee cleared his throat to move to the next part of the program. “And now, we invite the family of the deceased to come forward and say a few words.” As he spoke, the large doors to the hall swung open. An grief-stricken elderly couple walked in, supporting a pale, trembling woman who looked as if she was about to collapse. The smile on Scott’s face froze. The woman was his ex-wife, Victoria. I stood up and walked toward them. “Father, Mother,” I said to his parents. “You’re here.” I paused, my gaze sweeping past the petrified Scott to his red-eyed parents, and added, my voice clear and cutting, “This memorial service was Scott’s idea, for Marcus. He said… it’s a celebration of life.” “He said Marcus always loved a good party, and that this was a fitting end.”

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In our elective, my boyfriend saved a seat only for his childhood best friend. Again. This time, I didn’t fight her. I didn’t make a scene. Clutching my textbook, I just sat down next to the campus genius, Mario Lewis. As my boyfriend and his bestie were deliberately getting cozy, I tugged on Mario’s sleeve. “Your girlfriend and my boyfriend are getting pretty friendly over there. Doesn’t that make you jealous?” Mario’s gaze was cool. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” I bit my lip, leaning in closer. “Well, do you want one?” He stopped writing and looked at me then. “What’s in it for me?” My cheeks flushed. “You get to blow off some steam, and I get my stress levels under control. It’s a win-win.” 1 The moment I stepped into the lecture hall, I saw him. Liam. And right next to him, with an arm slung casually over his shoulder as they laughed about something, was his childhood best friend, Chloe. They saw me at the same time. Liam instinctively tried to push Chloe away, but she just tightened her grip, shooting me a smug, defiant look. “Sorry,” she chirped, her voice loud enough for the rows around them to hear. “Liam only saved one extra seat. First come, first served.” The chatter in the hall slowly died down. All eyes were on us now. This wasn’t the first time Liam had saved a seat only for Chloe. The first time it happened, I was so hurt I just burst into tears and ran out of the room. The second time, Chloe hit me with the same taunt. I fought back, we argued, and I took the seat by force. Liam and I fought for days after that because of her. The stress was so bad my skin was a mess. This time, watching them pull the same tired stunt, I just felt… empty. It was all so pointless. I didn’t fight with Chloe. I didn’t argue with Liam. I didn’t even spare them a second glance. Clutching my textbook, I walked straight to the back row, to the only other empty seat in the entire hall. “Excuse me,” I said softly. “Is this seat taken?” 2 The guy sitting there, headphones on and head down, was scribbling furiously in a notebook. He looked up at the sound of my voice. His gaze seemed to linger on my face for a heartbeat before flickering away. He stood up, giving me room to slide in. “Thanks,” I murmured, settling into the seat by the wall. From the front of the hall, there was a loud thump as a book was slammed onto a desk. I looked up just in time to meet Chloe’s glare. Her eyes were burning with a hatred that was almost startling. Suddenly, I remembered a rumor I’d heard when I first got to campus. Something about Chloe and the guy next to me, Mario Lewis, having some kind of childhood promise—that their families had always planned for them to get married. I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him. He’d already put his headphones back on, head bent in concentration as he worked through a problem set. All I could see was his sharp profile, radiating an aura of cool, untouchable distance. My phone buzzed. A text from Liam. Lost a bet last night. That’s why I had to save Chloe a seat. Don’t be mad, babe. I’ll take you out for a fancy dinner tonight to make it up to you. I stared at the words, a bitter laugh threatening to escape. There was always an excuse. It was always something. Either Chloe was sick and he had to ditch our date to take her to the clinic, or he was reminding me they grew up together, that they were “basically brothers.” If there was really something going on between them, he’d say, would I even have had a chance with him? Liam was my first love, and I had thrown myself into this relationship completely. That’s why it was always so easy for him to play with my emotions. But now? All I felt was a profound sense of boredom. I didn’t reply. I just closed the message. During the mid-class break, Liam and Chloe started roughhousing again. “Oh, you’re asking for it now, Liam!” Chloe shrieked, lunging at him playfully. It looked more like aggressive flirting than a real fight. She wrapped her hands around his neck, and from his expression, he was loving every second of it. “Alright, alright, can you try acting like a girl for once?” he chuckled. “Please. I’m not one of those fragile little things,” she said, her voice dripping with meaning as she shot a look in my direction. “I don’t burst into crocodile tears to get attention. And I definitely don’t talk in some fake, high-pitched voice. It’s disgusting.” I lowered my head, a small, humorless smile touching my lips. Under the desk, my hand reached out and gently tugged on the sleeve of Mario’s shirt. “Mario.” He turned his head. I pursed my lips and pointed to his headphones. He didn’t say a word, just lifted the earbud on my side. Taking a deep breath, I pitched my voice just like Chloe had described—sweet and a little breathless. “Your girlfriend is being awfully friendly with my boyfriend. Doesn’t that make you jealous?” 3 Mario’s eyes were clear and cold. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” “But I heard… she has a childhood promise with you.” “That’s baseless gossip,” he said, his voice dropping a degree, becoming even colder. I found myself looking at him again, my eyes tracing the clean, sharp line of his jaw before drifting down to the hand holding his pen. Sunlight streamed through the window, enveloping him in a soft glow. In that light, his long fingers looked like they were sculpted from marble. I bit my lip, leaned in closer, and whispered, “Well, do you want one?” “Want what?” He suddenly turned to face me fully. I didn’t have time to pull back. The fresh, cool scent of mint washed over me, and my breath hitched. “A girlfriend.” Mario put his pen down. “What’s in it for me?” My cheeks flushed. I looked down, my lashes casting shadows. A new pimple, red and swollen, was throbbing on the right side of my chin. It was itchy and sore. My roommate said it was from all the stress—my hormones were all out of whack. In the front row, Liam and Chloe were still at it. Chloe was now perched on the edge of a desk, her foot playfully kicking at Liam’s leg. Every so often, she’d glance back at me, letting out an obnoxiously loud laugh. It was the kind of laugh that was supposed to sound carefree, but to me, it was just grating. I remembered the first time I met her. Liam introduced us. She was standing next to him, arm draped over his shoulders just like one of his guy friends, and she looked me up and down with open disdain. Then, she punched Liam playfully in the arm. “Seriously, man? I can’t believe this is your type. A sweet little damsel in distress.” She’d added, “You better not ditch your friends for a girl. I’ll be the first one to call you out.” And Liam… he had just grinned, like he enjoyed being the prize in some twisted competition. I took a deep breath. Just as Chloe let out another theatrical laugh and glanced our way, I tugged on Mario’s sleeve again. “You get to blow off some steam,” I whispered, “and I get my stress levels under control. It’s a win-win.” I’d heard whispers. Mario was working on a killer thesis project. He’d been pulling all-nighters in the lab for weeks. He didn’t speak. He just picked up his pen, twirling it between those perfect fingers. After a long moment, he looked at me again, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile. “Sounds like a decent proposal,” he said softly. “There’s just one problem…” I held my breath. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and the light in the room dimmed. Mario’s voice seemed to cool with it. “I’m not interested in someone else’s girlfriend.” 4 Class resumed. Chloe was back in her seat, acting like a model student. When the professor walked back in, the room fell silent. In a voice only Mario and I could hear, I whispered, “I’m planning on breaking up with him.” Mario’s eyes stayed fixed on the blackboard. “Then do it. We can talk after.” I didn’t dare say another word. He had a reputation for being a genius, and when he was focused, he had a “do not disturb” aura that was seriously intimidating. For the rest of the lecture, I stared obediently at the professor, but my mind was a million miles away. Just before the bell rang, my phone buzzed again. Liam. Something came up tonight. Can we meet up tomorrow instead? I typed back instantly. No need. Let’s just break up. His reply was almost immediate. Ava, don’t be like this. I promise I’ll spend the whole weekend with you. How many times do I have to tell you, Chloe and I are just friends. Okay, fine. I promise I won’t let her tag along on our date this weekend. I didn’t reply. The moment class was dismissed, Chloe grabbed Liam and started dragging him out of the room. At the doorway, she glanced back, but this time, she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Mario. He didn’t notice. He had his headphones on, packing his books away. Chloe’s face fell with a flicker of disappointment before she pulled Liam out into the hallway. “Mario,” I said, my heart pounding as I worked up the courage to stop him as he stood up. “Can I… get your number?” He didn’t pull out his phone. “Break up with him first.” He was tall, and when he looked down at me, I felt completely exposed, like he could see right through me. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I pulled up my text conversation with Liam and held my phone out for him to see. “Look,” I mumbled. “I already did.” He glanced at the screen. Then, right there in front of him, I deleted and blocked Liam’s contact. “Do you believe me now?” Mario’s impossibly handsome face remained a blank mask. But then, he took out his own phone and pulled up a QR code. “Add me.” 5 Right after I added him, Mario left. He said he was swamped with lab work for the next couple of days and suggested we meet up on Saturday night. I just sat there, watching him walk away until he disappeared from view. Then I sank back into my chair, feeling dazed. If his name wasn’t sitting right there in my contact list, I would’ve thought the whole thing was a dream. I couldn’t sleep that night. Chloe was spamming her social media feed with pictures from a party with their group of childhood friends. In almost every single photo, she and Liam were the center of attention. The last picture was a shot of them kissing. I wanted to be numb, to feel nothing, but I couldn’t. A bitter, self-mocking smile twisted my lips as I deleted Chloe from my contacts. Then, I posted a picture of my own. It was a photo my roommates had taken of me earlier that evening, a shot of my back as I walked across the campus green. It was a beautiful, ethereal picture. For the caption, I wrote: Basking in the clean, sweet air of being single. My phone immediately blew up. Comments from mutual friends flooded in. ??? Ava, did you and Liam have a fight? No way, did you guys break up? I knew this would happen. It’s because of Chloe, isn’t it? I didn’t answer any of them. Because a new message had just popped up. From Mario. Can’t sleep? A little. Are you still in the lab? Yeah. Tonight’s not going well. He sent a picture. On a lab bench, next to a bunch of complex equipment, was a small tortoise shell and some incense sticks. I’ve even resorted to superstition, and the data is still wrong. Oh no. What are you going to do? Is it urgent? Very. The report is due tomorrow. Then… I won’t bother you. A few seconds passed. Then, a voice message appeared. I pressed play. “Weren’t you going to help me blow off some steam?” His voice was low and husky, laced with an undeniable exhaustion that made my stomach flutter. I shot up in bed, my face burning. My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might burst. I typed and deleted a reply a dozen times, completely flustered. Another message from him came through. Your chin. Does it still hurt? I bit my lip, hard enough to leave a mark. Yeah. And it’s a little itchy. 6 Mario picked me up and took me to the lab. The first thing I saw when I walked in was an altar-like setup on one of the counters. It had a turtle shell and still-smoldering incense. “A grad student from a few years back left it,” Mario explained. “Swears it’s magic.” On a nearby incubator, a yellowing, hand-written talisman was taped to the glass. “That’s from the student before him,” he added. “We can’t remove it. The fungal cultures won’t grow otherwise.” I quickly pulled back my curious hand. So this is what the most advanced labs at a top university looked like. I guess the end of science really is superstition. Mario slipped on a clean white lab coat. He leaned against the windowsill, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin. “Unfortunately,” he sighed, “none of it is working tonight.” “So what now?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. All I can do is run the test again.” “Will I… be in your way here?” A small smile touched his lips. “No. I have to wait for the data to process anyway. It’s boring sitting here alone.” “I can keep you company, then.” I walked over and leaned against the windowsill next to him. The moonlight was soft, bathing us both in its gentle glow. I don’t know where the courage came from. “Mario.” “Hm?” “My chin really hurts.” “I can go buy you some…” “My roommate said it’s my hormones. All out of whack from stress.” I turned and looked up at him, my face tilted towards the moonlight. “Want to help me regulate them?”

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The Nth time Parker Presley threatened to break up, I was pulling an all-nighter on my promotion pitch. “Ivy Reed, you have twenty minutes to get to the club and apologize, or we’re done.” I snapped. “This is crucial for my promotion. Can you pick another day to cause a scene?” His voice turned icy. “A scene? Clearly your work matters more. We’re done.” He paused. “And I can be very petty. One call from me, and that promotion vanishes.” I slammed the phone down, trembling. But as I stared into the dark monitor, strange comments scrolled like subtitles across my vision: 【She’s not taking him seriously, is he? He secretly fast-tracked her promotion!】 【If she showed she’d drop her career for him, he’d give her the whole company. He’d never sabotage her.】 【That’s how avoidant types are—we push you away hoping you’ll hold on tighter.】 【He’s probably outside waiting for her to chase him. I live for this angsty romance!】 Doubt crept in. I almost grabbed my coat when a new message lit up my screen: “Heard your promotion’s on the rocks. Interested in jumping ship?” 1 I stared at the bizarre message, trying to place the sender. The display name was just a pair of stylized wings. After confirming it wasn’t a prank, I was still drawing a blank. Could it be Parker, testing me with a burner account? I dismissed the thought almost immediately. Parker was far too proud for such games. In our ten years together, I was always the one to bend, to apologize, to make peace. The late-night cab ride to win him back was a scene we’d rehearsed countless times. My devotion had always been his safety net, making him fearless. So, who sent the message? The phantom comments provided an answer. 【It’s his arch-rival, trying to poach his girl! He must have overheard Parker on the phone in the club’s restroom. He moves fast.】 【Ivy isn’t just Parker’s lover; she’s a rising star at Presley Corp. Of course, Adrian Thorne, as the rival CEO, would try to snatch her up.】 【Come on, you really think the infamous Adrian Thorne, the man who supposedly fantasizes about her nightly, is doing this purely for business?】 My eyes narrowed. Adrian Thorne. I had led the team that beat Thorne Industries on the last major bid. At the corporate gala that night, someone had drunkenly suggested we should connect, to foster “friendly competition.” He hadn’t even glanced at me. I stood there, my smile frozen on my face, until he finally, coldly, held out his phone for a QR scan. I’d assumed he deleted my contact the second he got home. Apparently not. Still, I only half-believed the spectral commentary. Parker never hid our relationship, but in public, he treated me with the detached chill of a superior. To the uninformed, I was just another corporate drone earning a modest salary. Adrian loved to mock him for it. “Keeping a workhorse who warms your bed for free,” he’d sneered once. “A brilliant businessman indeed, Mr. Presley.” Adrian Thorne looked down on me. This offer felt less like a genuine opportunity and more like a calculated move to spite Parker. I swiped his message away, only to see a voicemail from Parker’s assistant. “Ivy, you have to come down here. Mr. Presley is drunk and refuses to leave.” He followed up with a short video of Parker making a scene. I hesitated, starting to change my clothes, but then I froze. At the thirty-second mark, Stella Moon’s silvery laugh cut through the noise. 【Here we go again. He always calls the other woman over just to make the heroine jealous.】 【It works every time, though. The moment he threatens to replace her, she loses her mind.】 【Just go, Ivy! I’ll bet my premium subscription that if you just apologize and coax him a little, he’ll be on his knees for you tonight.】 【I get him completely. There’s nothing more satisfying than seeing your partner fall apart over the thought of losing you. It proves how much they love you.】 I stood there, stunned. So, the comments weren’t a hallucination. They called me the heroine, and Parker the hero. And just as they described, Parker was constantly threatening to leave, waiting for me to come running back. If I didn’t, he’d sic his entourage on me. But even when I did show up, he wouldn’t yield immediately. The last time, I took an overnight train to appease him. I walked into his hotel room, exhausted and disheveled. He didn’t even look at me, instead pulling Stella closer to him. “Who told you to call her? I thought she was so determined to break up.” But a moment later, his body betrayed him. He was across the room, his hand finding mine, leading me away. That night, he was insatiable, and the next day, he showered me with gifts and planned a lavish vacation to make up for it. I once asked him if he wasn’t afraid I’d actually leave. He’d buried his face in my neck, murmuring like a child. “My love would never leave me over something so small.” “Ivy, as long as you take one step towards me, I’ll always take the other ninety-nine.” But he didn’t understand. After being put through this wringer time and time again, I didn’t want to take a single step. This emotionally draining dance… I was done. When I didn’t reply, his assistant started calling incessantly. I wavered, wondering if I should just give in one last time. Then, a message from Stella popped up. “Parker says you don’t need to come. He’s taking me to see the sunrise!” She attached a video. “Parker, darling, Ivy still isn’t here. You don’t think she’s actually serious about breaking up, do you?” Parker downed his drink in one go. “We’re done. Don’t mention her.” He turned to Stella. “You’ve always wanted to see the sunrise with me, right? Let’s go.” His eyes flickered towards the camera for a split second. He knew she was recording. I took a deep breath and threw my phone onto the bed. I went back to polishing my presentation slides. Believing in my own capabilities was a much safer bet than trusting a phantom comment feed that claimed Parker had already guaranteed my promotion. Unlike Parker and Stella, I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. For someone like me, who started with nothing, every opportunity had to be seized with my own two hands. 2 Parker didn’t come home. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I walked into the office with a heavy heart, only to find him already there. He was impeccably dressed, his expression unreadable, radiating the oppressive aura of a CEO. He was a world away from the childish, volatile man from last night. I delivered my presentation, my voice tight with nerves. When I finished, he applauded along with everyone else, his gaze cool and professional. I was baffled. Had my refusal to play his game actually… worked? After the meeting, I found a small, elegant gift box on every desk. The Director of Finance next to me gasped. “Wow, having a CEO for a boyfriend has its perks! He’s even giving out gifts for his girlfriend’s promotion.” An admin assistant cleared her throat. “Actually, these are welcome gifts from the new executive assistant to the CEO.” The director was floored. “A limited-edition perfume for every single person? As a welcome gift? What is this, some new way for the rich kids to flex on us wage slaves?” The admin shot a nervous glance in my direction and pulled the director aside. “The new assistant is the sole heiress to the Moon Corporation, one of our biggest clients. Mr. Presley paid for the gifts himself. Said he wanted to help his childhood friend make a good impression.” So, it was Stella. Of course. Stella had always wanted a position at Presley Corp to get closer to Parker. Her family had repeatedly proposed a corporate marriage alliance between them. Parker had always refused, for my sake. But after one night, he’d caved. And he’d given her a position in the CEO’s office—his personal assistant. A position I, his actual girlfriend, was never allowed to hold. I tried to force the thoughts of what happened between them last night out of my head and opened a file, determined to work. A colleague informed me that Parker wanted to see me. It was perfect timing; I needed to see him too. I walked straight to the executive office. The door was ajar. Inside, Stella was perched on the edge of Parker’s desk, her back to me. The curve of her waist in the tight pencil skirt was cupped in Parker’s hand. A sharp, stinging pain shot through my own palm. I never thought I’d see him be so intimate with someone else. I cleared my throat. Stella jumped, startled. When she saw it was me, the smile vanished from her face. She pouted. “Been working here for years and you still don’t know to knock?” I flinched. I’d never once considered knocking on Parker’s door. “My apologies. Next time you’re doing something… private, you should remember to close the door.” Parker, who had been waiting for my outburst, saw the cold calm on my face and his expression shifted. But he quickly masked it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Presley?” I asked, my voice devoid of emotion. “Regarding your promotion,” he said evenly, “the board has decided to put it on hold.” Stella shot me a triumphant look. I stared at the tips of my shoes. “I see,” I murmured. He wasn’t lying. Because I didn’t come running, he had blocked my promotion with a flick of his wrist. A crushing weight settled in my chest, and a hot sting pricked the back of my eyes. Thank God for the phantom comments; their warning was the only thing allowing me to maintain my composure. “Okay. Noted.” The silence in the room was suffocating. “If you want to fight for it…” he started. “I don’t,” I cut him off. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.” I turned sharply, but he called my name. “One more thing. The Atheria project will be handled by Stella from now on. You can transfer everything over to her today.” I whipped around. “What did you say?” I had poured six months of my life into the Atheria project. I’d gone months without a single day off, my nights fueled by a cocktail of pills just to get a few hours of restless sleep. That project was my lifeline. It was my chance to prove to everyone that I wasn’t just Parker’s girlfriend who’d coasted her way up. He knew how much it meant to me. He had even secretly pulled strings to help me secure resources. And now, just as it was about to bear fruit, he was handing it over to her? “Stella is new here. She needs a high-profile project to establish herself,” he said, his voice cold as steel. “The Atheria project is well-known and on the verge of success. It’s perfect for her to cut her teeth on.” My voice trembled, thick with unshed tears. “You know that project is everything to me. Why would you do this?” A cruel, vengeful smile touched his lips. “I told you. I’m petty. And I hold a grudge.” He leaned back in his chair. “Besides, I’m the boss. I don’t need your approval to assign a project. If you’re not happy, you’re free to resign.” Stella covered her mouth, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I looked from one to the other—her gloating, him utterly composed. They were both so certain I wouldn’t dare let go. “Fine,” I said, my voice ringing with a finality that wiped the smirk off Parker’s face. “I quit.” His smile vanished, replaced by disbelief. He raised his voice, a crack in his composure. “Ivy, don’t think for a second that being my girlfriend gives you the right to throw a tantrum. Don’t push me. I’m not afraid to let you walk!” I met his glare with a cold stare of my own. “You seem to be forgetting, Mr. Presley. We broke up.” He was speechless. Stella, seeing the escalating tension, feigned concern. “Parker, darling, maybe we should just forget it. I don’t want you two fighting because of me.” She then turned to me, her eyes glinting with provocation. “I’m so clumsy, I’d probably just mess up the project and waste all of Ivy’s hard work.” Parker stroked her hair, his voice dripping with affection. “It doesn’t matter if you mess it up. It’s just a small project. Trivial.” A hot rage surged through me, so powerful I had to physically restrain myself from lunging at them. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. “A company that uses projects to woo women isn’t a place I care to work for anyway.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I guess all my years of hard work were just thrown to the dogs.” Stella’s face contorted. “Who are you calling a dog?” “Whoever the shoe fits,” I sneered. “Ivy!” Parker’s face was thunderous. I turned and walked away without a backward glance. 3 I stumbled back to my desk like a zombie. Only when I was sure no one was looking did the tears finally come, hot and silent. The comments reappeared. 【You fool! That was all an act for you! The second you left, he kicked Stella out of his office.】 【He just wanted to see you get jealous and back down. He never thought you’d be stubborn enough to quit over it.】 【If you’re going to date a man in power, you have to learn to be submissive. You can’t have your pride and the money.】 【She’s not thinking straight. Without this job, who’s going to pay for her sick mother’s medical bills? Does she think her pride pays for prescription drugs?】 They were right. My mother’s life depended on an outrageously expensive imported medication. The salary Parker paid me was the only thing keeping her alive. If the treatment stopped, the only family I had left in this world would be gone. Just as the financial panic set in, a message from Parker appeared—a rare occurrence for him to initiate contact. “Apologize to Stella, and I’ll consider giving you the project back.” “I’ll also put you in charge of the new portfolio in the fall.” “And your access card. Come get it.” This was the first time Parker had ever backed down. The comments chimed in with their support. 【He’s finally bending! You have no idea how hard that is for a man with his pride.】 【As a fellow avoidant, I’m touched. We have to really love someone to be the first to apologize! Ivy, you have to cherish this!】 【Aside from his pride, he’s rich, handsome, and devoted. Don’t throw away a man like that.】 It was true. For all his theatrics, Parker had been good to me. If I could just endure this one aspect of him, he was, by all accounts, an excellent partner. But I typed my reply without hesitation. “My letter of resignation will be with HR by the end of the day.” A long pause. Then, his reply. “You’re serious?” “Fine. Don’t come crying to me later.” “Don’t regret this when you realize your stubbornness cost you both your relationship and your career.” I collapsed onto my desk, sobbing without a sound. My heart ached for our ten years together, and I mourned the job I loved. But I couldn’t accept being treated this way. He had a black hole of need inside him, and he tried to fill it by hurting me. I was trapped in a darkness with no end in sight, and I was losing myself. If our relationship was a slow, painful death, then it was better to end it myself. 4 I sent my resignation email, then pulled up Adrian Thorne’s contact. “Mr. Thorne, is your offer still on the table?” He replied instantly. “It is. But not for Parker Presley’s girlfriend.” Me: “Ex-girlfriend. And ex-employee.” Silence. My heart leaped into my throat. Had I been right? Was this all just a game to get back at Parker, and he never expected me to actually follow through? After what felt like an eternity, my phone buzzed. It was a picture of a stunning corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. “The office is ready for you. Should I come pick you up for a tour?” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What kind of grudge did Adrian hold against Parker? I was just a mid-level manager at Presley Corp. Why was he rolling out the red carpet? “Let me finish the handover here first.” Him: “Don’t bother. Let’s twist the knife a little. Whatever the penalty is, I’ll cover it.” Before I could respond, another message came through. “You know what, never mind. Say a proper goodbye to your past. I know how breakups feel. If you need to get blackout drunk, call me. I’ll be your designated driver.” I sighed. No wonder people said Adrian Thorne was eccentric and unpredictable. This was… a lot. … Parker was nowhere to be seen for the rest of the afternoon. His assistant said he was personally escorting Stella on a tour of every department. A presidential escort—a privilege I’d never had. When I first joined the company, Parker was still finding his footing at Presley Corp. He was terrified of office gossip, so we kept our relationship a secret. He asked me to understand. Parker had been kidnapped as a child and spent three years living in the slums with me, collecting scrap to survive before his family found him. When he returned, his parents had already moved on, doting on their second son. Parker became an awkward, superfluous presence. He poured himself into his studies and his work, desperate for his family’s approval. To support him, I pretended not to know him for my first two years at the company. It wasn’t until I had a string of successful projects under my belt that we finally went public. And now, Parker, fully aware that people in the office shipped him and his “childhood sweetheart,” was parading her around without a second thought. That blatant favoritism was a knife in my heart. “See? I told you the billionaire CEO would end up marrying the girl from his own world. Stella joining the company is just the first step to becoming Mrs. Presley.” “Some people think climbing into the boss’s bed is a ticket to the top. They should take a look at where they come from first.” The whispers followed me as news of my resignation spread. Colleagues who had always disliked me no longer bothered to hide their contempt. I ignored the gossip. Growing up scrounging for tuition money, I’d been looked down on my whole life. I was used to it. Then, HR called. Her voice was strained. “Ivy… Ms. Moon says your office has a better view. She wants to move in. So… could you please clear out your things immediately?” Before I could answer, a guy from IT was standing in front of my desk. “Ms. Reed, I’m here to supervise your data transfer and ensure no company property is compromised upon your departure.” He spoke loudly, and the chatter around us intensified. I looked at my computer, where my access had already been revoked, and gave a bitter laugh. The humiliation was a deliberate, final stab from Parker. Fighting back tears, I numbly packed my personal belongings into a cardboard box. I tossed the gifts Parker had given me, along with a framed photo of us, into the trash. Box in my arms, I walked towards the elevator and ran right into Stella, who was handing out her little gift boxes. Parker stood beside her, his hand possessively on her arm. She blocked my path. “Don’t go yet, Ivy. The CEO is treating the whole company to a sushi buffet tonight to celebrate my arrival. You should eat before you leave, right?” Parker said nothing, his face a mask of indifference. The comments were more agitated than I was. 【That shameless bitch. Tonight’s dinner was supposed to be for Ivy’s promotion! Parker is just using her to provoke Ivy.】 【Please, Ivy, just give in! If you don’t go back, he’s going to drink himself into a stupor tonight, and Stella will take him home, and then it’ll be too late!】 I shoved past her. “Get out of my way. I’m busy.” She grabbed my arm. “Is it because you’re ashamed of being dumped? Or is it because you got fired for being incompetent and can’t bear to show your face around here anymore?” I stared at her smug, arrogant face and I snapped. I slapped her, hard. “Get lost. You’re not worthy of eating with me.” Stella shrieked and threw herself at Parker. “Parker, darling, she hit me! She’s a lunatic! She’s insane!” Parker shielded her, his eyes blazing with fury at me. I took a step closer to them. “And you,” I said, raising my hand to Parker. “You’re trash, too.” Before the slap could land, he caught my wrist in a vice-like grip and shoved me away. “Ivy! Cut the crazy act!” I stumbled back, hitting the wall. A sharp pain shot up my spine, but I forced myself to stand tall, blinking back tears. I met his glacial gaze. “I slapped your little girlfriend, Mr. Presley. If you have a problem with it, call the police.” 5 I strode out of the Presley Corp building, but a voice stopped me at the entrance. A man in dark sunglasses was leaning against a flamingo-pink convertible, a wicked smile playing on his lips. A group of girls walking by couldn’t help but pull out their phones to snap pictures. 【He’s here! The peacock has been waiting forever.】 【The moment he heard she was single, he just had to start showing off.】 I sighed internally but managed a weak smile as I approached. “Mr. Thorne? What are you doing here?” He gestured towards the passenger seat with his chin. “Came to collect the prize bull I just spent a fortune poaching. Got to get her into the new pasture, right?” I gritted my teeth and opened the car door. “Then let’s head to your office and go over my new role.” A smirk touched his lips as he floored the accelerator. “Don’t worry. I’ll drop you at the airport after our meeting. Wouldn’t want you to miss your trip.” I froze. “How did you know I bought a plane ticket?” He snapped his fingers. “Please. I’m Adrian Thorne.” Adrian led me into a conference room at Thorne Industries. After a brief introduction, he dove straight into work, no pleasantries exchanged. For a man with such a playboy reputation, he was ruthlessly efficient and meticulous. Two hours later, as promised, he drove me to the airport. He insisted on carrying my luggage all the way to the security gate. “We’ll be seeing each other again very soon,” he said as he handed it to me. His words were odd, but I was too drained to analyze them. He was just an odd person. Just then, a message from Parker came through. “Whose car did you just get into?” “I told you, I don’t tolerate betrayal, Ivy. Hiring some actor to pick you up to make me jealous? That’s pathetic.” I let out a hollow laugh. He thought Adrian was an actor I’d hired. The hypocrisy was astounding. Was his public groping of Stella not “betrayal”? I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Mr. Presley, we have broken up. And I have resigned. My life is no longer any of your business.” A second later, he was calling me. “Ivy, you’ve taken this too far. There’s a limit to these tantrums.” I scoffed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Presley, but wasn’t it you who broke up with me?” His voice frayed with emotion. “I may have said the words, but we had an agreement! You take one step, and I take the other ninety-nine. Ivy, why couldn’t you just bend for me this one time?” “I’m tired, Parker,” I said, each word heavy. “I don’t want to take any more steps.” He was silent for a moment, his tone softening when he spoke again. “If you’re tired, then take a break and come back. There’s a dinner tonight. Get some rest, dress up nicely. I’ll pick you up.” “I’m not going to Stella’s welcome party.” He paused. “It’s not for her. It was always for your promotion. If you come back tonight, we can start over with the promotion. If you’re worried about losing face, I’ll re-issue the announcement in a few weeks.” “Parker, are you deaf? We broke up. I quit. I am not coming tonight.” He hissed through his teeth. “Do you have to be so damn stubborn? Is it that hard to humble yourself for the man you love?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Haven’t I humbled myself enough? Parker, when are you going to listen to me? I said I’m tired…” His breathing grew ragged. “I knew it. I don’t matter to you! Is this why you broke up with me? Because of that man who picked you up today? Ivy, how could you do this to us, after ten years?!” I felt a wave of helpless fury, wishing I could reach through the phone and shake him. Instead, I just ended the call and boarded the plane. As the flight attendant’s voice came over the intercom, I stared out the window. Behind me lay a decade of heavy, suffocating love for Parker, tangled with tears, resentment, and a pain I could never voice. Ahead of me was a new sky, vast and open.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384356”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was on my way to confess my feelings to my dream guy when I got mugged. The mugger tore up the ninety-plus love letters I’d written for him. So, I broke three of the mugger’s ribs. The next day, we both ended up on the local news. My dream guy, Henry, sent me a text: “Innocent little wallflower, huh? Savage.” 1 I’d been chasing Henry for four months, and for three and a half of them, I’d been playing the part of a delicate, innocent wallflower. The first fifteen days were my trial-and-error phase. I engineered a series of “coincidental” encounters with him, trying out a different persona each time. I went from the cool, aloof ice queen to the adorable, bubbly girl-next-door; from a sun-kissed, athletic type to a calculating, dark-academia genius. I was on the verge of developing a personality disorder. But he treated me like I was thin air. Then, by a stroke of luck, my roommate stayed up all night binging an old-school billionaire romance series. She swore to me that cold, ruthless men like Henry all had a secret weakness for clumsy, fragile girls who were as kind and pure as angels. So, on day sixteen, I dressed myself in the plainest, most unassuming clothes I owned and “accidentally” stumbled right into him. He finally deigned to lift his head, his gaze sweeping over me with disinterest. Then he spoke the first words he’d ever said to me in two weeks— “Get off.” The billionaire romance novels didn’t lie. I was so moved I could have cried. And so, I kept up the innocent wallflower act for the next three and a half months. Yesterday, my life as his number one admirer took a dramatic turn. After steeling my nerves, I asked Henry out to a movie for the fiftieth time—and he actually said yes. He agreed to see a movie with me! That was basically a marriage proposal, right? In my head, I’d already picked out names for our second kid. My roommates rallied around me, treating the date like a top-secret military operation. The first spent three hours crafting a flawless, barely-there, “no-makeup” makeup look. The second styled me in an immaculate, all-white outfit, the epitome of wallflower chic. The third channeled her inner drill sergeant, rigorously coaching my every word and gesture. As for me, I pulled an all-nighter, pouring my heart into ninety handwritten love letters for him. Our mission: to conquer Henry’s heart and officially end my two decades of singledom. The next afternoon, with my roommates cheering me on, I floated out the door, my heart soaring. A beautiful, epic romance was just around the corner. On the way, I even stopped by an arcade to get a fistful of tokens. A date isn’t complete without winning a prize from a claw machine to really elevate the romance. And then— Not long after I left the arcade, I ran into a mugger. 2 The burly man held a knife to me, snatched my phone, and backed me into a dark alley, demanding I hand over all my money. A smart girl knows when to fold. I glanced at his grizzled face, then at the gleaming blade in his hand. Without a second’s hesitation, I tremblingly scooped a handful of arcade tokens from my bag and offered them to him. The man flicked me hard on the forehead. “You trying to be funny with me?” Then— He expertly snatched the tokens from my hand and stuffed them into his pocket. “All of it. Don’t make me get it myself,” he growled, his face a mask of menace. I shakily offered him another handful of tokens. The mugger stared at me. He took the tokens, then flicked my forehead again, harder this time. The force of it nearly brought tears to my eyes. “Damn, you’re broke! I only targeted you ’cause I saw you leaving the arcade with your bag stuffed full.” He started rummaging through my bag himself, a hint of regret in his voice. You didn’t look very closely, I thought, rolling my eyes. My bag was already bulging when I went in, thanks to the ninety love letters. The mugger pulled out three more handfuls of tokens. Furious, he flicked my forehead again, this time with the full force of his frustration behind it. Tears finally streamed down my face. “That’s all the money I have,” I sobbed. He refused to give up. He felt a side pocket and pulled out a small, folded card. On it was written— “Your eyes, like stars, shining so bright, one look and I fell into their light. Don’t you worry, it feels so right, maybe this was destiny’s might, I can’t look away from you tonight.” “What the hell is this?” I could see genuine, bizarre confusion in his beady little eyes. “It’s… a love letter I wrote,” I mumbled, my face burning. He pulled out another one— “Like a chemical reaction, a fantasy forgiven by isolation. It must be your gentle gaze, setting my world ablaze, warming my heart’s maze, healing my broken days.” “I read this and I feel like I’m about to start singing,” the mugger scoffed. “Broke-ass kid, wasting your time on useless crap.” He raised his hand and, with a flick of his wrist, sent all ninety of my love letters fluttering into the grimy air. That was too much! That was my entire night’s work. A surge of rage washed over me. While he was busy pocketing the last of the tokens, I bent down, snatched a loose brick from the ground, and brought it down hard on his head. Caught completely off guard, the man crumpled to the ground. “You damn—you’re asking for it,” he grunted, stubbornly trying to push himself back up. I took a running start and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling back down. His knife clattered away into the darkness. “Give me back my phone,” I demanded, plopping myself down on his chest to keep him from escaping. I heard a sickening crack from his ribs. Suddenly, he went completely still. He wasn’t even struggling anymore. Oh god, did I kill him? A wave of panic hit me. I scrambled off him and shook his arm. “Hey, mister? Are you okay?” “Just… call the cops,” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. “And an ambulance.” I fished my phone out of his token-filled pocket and shakily dialed 911. “Hello? I’m in the alley about two blocks down from the Main Street Arcade. I’ve just been mugged,” I said, my voice thick with fake tears. I was genuinely worried he wouldn’t make it until the police arrived. “So, is this your first time mugging someone?” I asked, squatting beside him after hanging up. I figured a little conversation might distract him from the pain. He let out a pained groan and turned his head away from me. “Why didn’t you just take my whole bag?” I scooted around to face him, unable to hold back my burning question. His breathing was loud and ragged, each breath sounding like it could be his last. 3 When the police arrived, I was sitting next to the mugger, checking to see if he was still breathing. “You’re the one who called it in?” An officer stepped out of the car, gun drawn, and stared at me. The rest of his squad fanned out behind him, their expressions a mixture of confusion and caution. I glanced at the half-dead man on the ground, then at the officer’s weapon. “I might have accidentally subdued him,” I said meekly. And so— The mugger was loaded into an ambulance, and I was taken to the police station. After I gave my statement, the officer handed me back my two pockets full of tokens and the scattered pile of love letters. The sky was completely dark by the time I walked out. “You’re late.” The message popped up on my phone the second I turned it on. A bolt of lightning shot through me. I had completely forgotten about my movie date with Henry. I frantically dialed his number. He picked up after a few rings. “What happened?” His voice, even through the phone, was as smooth and magnetic as ever. “I got mugged on my way over. I’m still at the police station. I was so scared,” I whimpered, the wallflower persona kicking in automatically. The officer who took my statement was packing up his notebook. He shot me a strange, unreadable look. “Your address. I’ll come get you.” Henry, my kind-hearted hero, didn’t hesitate. I gave him the address of the station. He just said, “Okay,” and told me to wait. “I’ll just wait here for a bit. Someone’s coming to pick me up,” I told the officer, flashing what I hoped was an innocent, grateful smile. He nodded in understanding, but the weird expression never left his face. 4 I didn’t notice Henry when he arrived because I was deep in the trenches of a heated League of Legends match, furiously typing insults at my teammates in the chat. “Mia.” It was only after the match ended that he finally spoke my name. I looked up mechanically, quickly locking my phone screen. “Henry, you don’t have perfect vision, do you?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “No,” he said, pausing for a fraction of a second. He nodded slowly. “Were you just looking at something I wasn’t supposed to see?” “Hahahaha, that’s great!” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “My phone screen cracked when I dropped it, so it’s just showing a bunch of asterisks when I type. I didn’t want you to think less of me,” I said, shoving my phone in my pocket. It was a flawless excuse. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you hurt?” he asked, changing the subject. I stared at his lips, how they moved when he spoke. God, they were perfect. I could feel the drool pooling in my mouth. I shook my head, my persona as solid as a rock. “I’m okay. He took all my money and he hit me, but I’m really okay.” “He hit you?” Henry’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening. “Yeah, three times,” I nodded eagerly. He held out his long, elegant hand. “Let’s get you up. I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out.” This was my chance to create a moment. I immediately took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Excuse me, do you know which hospital they took the suspect to?” Once I was standing, I was reluctant to let go of his hand. To his credit, probably out of some sense of humanitarian duty, Henry didn’t pull away. But he turned to ask the officer about the mugger. “He’s at St. Jude’s,” I blurted out, my heart pounding. “Oh, my head feels a little dizzy from where he hit me. Can we just go home? I really need to lie down,” I said, tugging on his sleeve and leaning weakly against him. His whole body went rigid, but he didn’t push me away. And thankfully, he dropped the subject. “I’m taking you to a doctor. We need to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he said after a slight cough. The mugger was probably lying in a bed at that very hospital. Going there would blow my cover completely. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, it’s fine!” “We should get it checked out,” he insisted, his hand steady on my arm. “Really, it’s okay! It’s so late, I just want to go home and sleep!” I was getting desperate, and my voice, without its usual delicate filter, came out loud and clear. Henry froze. He gave me a complicated look. “Well, you certainly sound energetic. I guess you’re probably fine.” I stared back at him. Now it was my turn to look complicated. 5 That should have been the end of it. But then, they pulled the security footage from the alley. It all started when the local police department was featured on a reality show, something like a local version of Cops. One of the officers recounted the most memorable calls from the past week. The show’s producers, bless their soulless hearts, tracked down the footage of my case, edited it into a segment, and the clip immediately went viral. The security footage clearly showed me grabbing a brick and knocking the 250-pound mugger to the ground. When he tried to get up, I flew at him with a kick that sent him sprawling, then pinned him to the pavement with my butt until he couldn’t move. The video ended with him, lying on the ground, begging me to call the police. I hadn’t seen the clip myself, but Henry was kind enough to share it with me. The title of the video was emblazoned across the top: “Gen Z Girl Annihilates Mugger, Who Begs Her to Call the Cops to Save His Life.” “Didn’t realize you were such a hero,” he texted. I could practically hear his deadpan voice through the screen. “You didn’t see the beginning!” I typed back frantically. “He insulted the love letters I wrote for you! He insulted my love for you!” I was trying to salvage the situation. Henry’s response: “Savage.” I stared at the word, unsure how to reply. I gave up, flopped onto my bed, and opened the video’s comment section. “LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO” “That dude’s been mugging people for years and he finally met his final boss.” “Three simple moves to make a criminal rethink his life choices!” For a crime story, the comment section was an unusually peaceful, harmonious place. 6 That night, the internet sleuths found my TikTok account. I gained 3,000 followers overnight. My TikTok is usually just a random collection of food, fun, and the occasional nerdy dance video. The comments were normally from a handful of friends and family. Now, it was a pilgrimage site. Underneath my dance videos, the comments were ruthless: “Where can I find a champion like this?” “Am I blind, or is she just wringing the air dry?” “I can feel the raw power and tenacity.” And, of course, an endless, soul-crushing stream of “LMAO.” My roommate tried to console me. “You may have lost love, but you’re on the path to fortune. When you’re forty, you can hire ten guys who look just like Henry.” “How vulgar! I’m not that shallow. I love Henry for his beautiful soul!” I huffed, defending my honor. Though, I had to admit, the thought of twenty Henrys bowing to my every whim was… appealing. Just thinking about it filled me with a new sense of purpose. My fingers flew across the keyboard. “What are you doing?” my roommate asked, pointing at the academic journal database open on my laptop. “You have a paper due soon?” I shook my head. “I’m writing a new love letter for Henry. The last ninety didn’t truly capture my feelings.” My roommate stared at me, dumbfounded. “Hmph. I’m not like you people,” I said with a smirk. “I’m going to have it all: love and money. I’ll have the young and beautiful Henry by my side twenty years ahead of schedule.” At two in the morning, I sent Henry my meticulously crafted, 3,000-word masterpiece of a love letter. Five minutes later, he replied with a plagiarism report showing an 88% match. I was speechless. I typed back: Your attention to detail reminds me of one of my mom’s relatives. The three dots indicating he was typing appeared and disappeared for two full minutes. Finally, a single message came through: ? My mom’s future son-in-law, I sent, feeling giddy. Henry: lol He didn’t deny it! He even said “lol”! He really, really wanted to be my mom’s son-in-law. 7 “Henry!” The next day at lunch, I “coincidentally” ran into him in the cafeteria, as usual. “What a coincidence! We must be destined to meet,” I chirped, setting my tray down across from him and sliding into the seat beside him. He shot me a cool glance and didn’t reply. Thanks to my frequent “coincidences,” Henry’s roommates had learned to make themselves scarce the moment I appeared. “Let’s go to the movies tonight. I promise nothing will go wrong this time. I’ll stick to the main roads,” I said, poking his elbow. He put down his fork, a thoughtful look on his face. “I won’t even go near an arcade! I won’t carry a single cent! No one will have a reason to rob me!” I held up three fingers, swearing an oath. Henry gently pushed my hand down and pulled out his phone. He wasn’t smiling, but I could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. My internal alarms blared. Was he about to text some other girl right in front of me? A second later, a notification popped up on my phone. A message from Henry. He had forwarded me a video. Suspicious, I pressed play. And then— My own voice, loud and unfiltered, boomed from the speakers. “Alright everyone, watch this! I’ll make you some juice!” On the screen, my face was contorted in a ferocious grimace as I crushed an entire apple in my bare hand in under five seconds. Silence. A profound, deafening silence filled the space between us. I forgot how to move. … It was a video my aunt took last Thanksgiving at a family dinner. My cousin had just shown off by opening a beer bottle with his teeth, and not to be outdone, I’d performed my signature party trick: hand-juicing an apple. At the time, everyone thought it was hilarious, and they’d egged me on to post it to TikTok. Well, it was still hilarious. Just not for me. I wanted to cry. “Henry, what if I told you that was my alter ego? Would you believe me?” I stammered, inventing a sci-fi explanation on the spot. “She’s a super-strong warrior. The real me is… very delicate.” A small laugh escaped his lips. “Pfft.” “It’s true! I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I insisted, pouting. His voice was laced with amusement now, as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “So why decide to tell me today?” I kept the lie going. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. It’s better you know now than finding out during the pre-nuptial check-up.” Henry went silent. I might have been imagining it, but the tips of his ears turned bright red.

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It was the night of my company’s celebration dinner. Suddenly, a notification popped up in the family group chat. An unfamiliar cartoon avatar tagged my husband. “Dad, can I get some cash? I want to buy a new gaming console.” I froze. I checked again. Yes, this was my husband’s immediate family chat group. Mark and I had been married for years. We had one daughter, Eleanor. Since when did we have another child? The message was quickly deleted, but I couldn’t just pretend it never happened. Before I could do anything, my husband called me. “Hey, can you believe this? One of my distant relatives’ kids tagged the wrong dad!” His voice was light, casual. I played along, agreeing that kids could be careless. But as soon as the dinner was over, I headed for the parking garage, already on the phone with a private investigator, asking him to look into the owner of that account. 1 The city lights blurred past the car window, but my thoughts were stuck on that single, deleted message. I’ve always been a suspicious person. My motto is, “Better to be safe than sorry, and never let anything slide.” On my social media feed, Mark had just posted an update: “Quality time with my girl, helping her with homework.” It was accompanied by a photo. In the picture, the living room was brightly lit. Eleanor was staring into the camera, her expression blank. On a whim, I zoomed in on the photo. And there, reflected in the dark pools of my daughter’s eyes, was the image of a woman and a young boy. I had never seen them before in my life. Two hours later, I pulled up to my in-laws’ house. It was the weekend, and Mark always took Eleanor to visit them. When I arrived, a strange woman opened the door. The smile on her face froze solid. Her reaction told me everything. I was right. She stammered, her words tumbling over each other. “I… I’m Melissa. I’m just here to visit Mr. and Mrs. Collins.” I didn’t answer. I pushed past her and walked inside. Mark’s voice floated from the living room. “Melissa, who is it?” Melissa, of course, didn’t dare to speak. After a moment of silence, Mark came to see for himself. He saw me standing there, travel-worn and grim, and the air in the hallway instantly became thick and suffocating. I pushed past him and entered the living room. My in-laws had been gathered around a little boy. When they saw me, they both shot to their feet. My mother-in-law’s knee hit the coffee table with a loud thud, but she forced a stiff, unnatural smile onto her face. “Oh, you’re here! Mark said you were busy with work tonight.” “I finished,” I said flatly. My gaze fell on my daughter. Eleanor was sitting alone in a corner of the sofa. The moment she saw me, her eyes welled up and she ran into my arms. “Mommy, you’re finally here.” I held her close, my heart aching. Eleanor was usually such a stoic child; she rarely showed her emotions like this. What had they put her through while I was gone? Melissa had positioned herself next to Mark, looking at me with a pitiful, wronged expression. Mark patted her shoulder reassuringly, then turned to me. “Have you eaten? I can heat something up for you.” “No, thanks.” I was in no mood to eat. My mother-in-law shot a look at her husband, tugging on his sleeve. My father-in-law cleared his throat and put on his sternest face to lecture me. “Look at you, coming in here with a long face, as if we owe you something.” I suddenly laughed. My eyes landed on Melissa. She was looking at me, her hands twisting the hem of her dress. She wore light makeup, a simple, conservative dress, and a knitted cardigan—a classic “good wife” look that was the polar opposite of my style. Mark subtly moved to block my view, reaching for my purse. “Why don’t you go wash up? I’ll get you a glass of warm milk.” I didn’t move. I just looked down at my daughter, who was still clinging to my waist, refusing to let go. Her eyes were red and puffy. She whispered, “Mommy, I want to go home.” “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you?” I stroked her hair, my heart twisting with pain. “I… I don’t like Leo,” she mumbled into my side. At the mention of his name, the little boy who had been engrossed in his video game looked up. That one glance sent a chill down my spine. The resemblance was uncanny. His eyes, his brow—he looked just like Mark. “This child…” My voice was calm, as if I still knew nothing. “He looks like a strong little guy.” The boy looked to be about seven or eight. His narrow eyes stared straight at me, and then he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Daddy, who is this lady? What is she doing in our house?” 2 The color drained from Mark’s face. Melissa frantically clapped a hand over the boy’s mouth, her fingertips trembling. “Kids say the darndest things, don’t they… He’s always getting people mixed up.” “Is that so? He seemed pretty sure about that ‘Daddy’ part,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I led my daughter to the sofa and sat down. My mother-in-law immediately jumped in to smooth things over. “Oh, he’s just a child, he doesn’t know any better. The other day, Mr. Henderson from downstairs came to visit, and he called him Daddy, too.” She pressed a freshly peeled orange into my hand. “Here, have some fruit. You must be tired from your trip.” I took it and thanked her politely. Seeing that I wasn’t pressing the issue, Mark visibly relaxed. He came up behind me, ready to give me his usual shoulder rub. I shifted, and his hands met empty air. He froze for a second before forcing a laugh. “This is Melissa, a distant relative. She’s had some trouble back home, so she’s staying with us for a few days…” “A relative?” I offered a segment of the orange to Eleanor. I laughed again, a cold, humorless sound. Mark was the golden boy who had clawed his way out of a poor village. After getting into university, he had cut off all contact with his impoverished relatives. What distant relatives could he possibly have? I voiced the thought aloud. “I don’t remember you having a distant relative named Melissa. Didn’t you cut ties with all your family ages ago?” He faltered, his eyes darting away. “She’s… very distant. From my grandmother’s side.” I nodded thoughtfully. Very distant indeed. My in-laws exchanged a look, their eyes glinting with calculation. Suddenly, Melissa pulled Leo in front of me, her voice trembling on the verge of tears. “Sister-in-law, I know I shouldn’t be bothering you, but I had no other choice. Leo is sick, he needs money, and I could only turn to Mark…” “Turn to him? To borrow money?” I glanced at her. “No, not… I mean, we’ll pay it back.” She was stumbling over her words. Mark couldn’t stand seeing her so submissive and pleading. His jaw tightened. “That’s enough. Who pissed you off today?” I just smiled and stroked Eleanor’s hair. When I had hemorrhaged giving birth to her, Mark had been terrified, his face white as a sheet. He had sworn that for the rest of his life, he would only ever love the two of us. Promises, I thought. Only true in the moment they’re spoken. Mark grabbed Melissa’s arm. “Why don’t you take Leo to the guest room?” “Oh, don’t go,” I said, stopping them. My eyes were fixed on Leo’s wrist. He was wearing a small gold bracelet. It looked exactly like the one I had given Eleanor for her birthday last year. The one that had mysteriously disappeared a few months ago. Now I knew where it had gone. Melissa instinctively pulled down Leo’s sleeve to cover it, a move that screamed guilt. “That bracelet looks just like Eleanor’s. What a coincidence,” I said, my voice sharp with irony. Eleanor burrowed deeper into my side. But Leo suddenly wrenched his arm free from his mother’s grasp and pointed at me. “You’re the bad lady who stole my daddy! This bracelet is mine! Everything in this house is mine! I’m not giving you anything!” “Leo!” Melissa shrieked, trying to cover his mouth again. Beads of sweat had formed on Mark’s forehead. My father-in-law slammed his hand on the table with a loud crack. “Sophia! Stop with the passive-aggressive act! It’s just a bracelet! Why are you being so confrontational? My son has provided for you, given you a life of luxury for years. What more could you possibly want? Don’t we, as his parents, have the right to decide what to do with a single gold bracelet?” 3 I didn’t fight with them that night. I didn’t want to scare my daughter. Mark drove me home. The car was silent. He knew I wasn’t easy to fool. The second the car stopped, he started his explanation, his voice laced with a deliberate, placating tone. “Honey, I didn’t handle things well today. My parents are getting old, don’t take what they said to heart. They’re just soft-hearted, they can’t bear to see a child suffer.” “Mm-hmm,” I replied calmly. My placid reaction seemed to surprise him. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so composed. But ultimately, he was relieved. In a corner of the car I couldn’t see, he secretly texted Melissa: [Don’t worry, she won’t find out. Leo is my son, I’ll take care of him.] I saw his little maneuver later that night when I reviewed the car’s security footage. So clever. Before she went to sleep, Eleanor told me something. “Mommy, the last few times Daddy took me to Grandma and Grandpa’s, he left with them and Leo and was gone for a long time.” “Is that so?” My heart clenched. “Yes. And Leo… he just transferred to my class. He’s always bullying me.” As she talked, I learned that my daughter was being tormented at school. She said Leo told the other kids that she had stolen his dad, that she was shameless. She had tried to explain, but no one believed her. She had told Mark about it. But Mark had simply told her that Leo was a good boy and wouldn’t bully her. The bullying had made my daughter withdrawn and quiet. I traveled so much for business, I had been home very little these past few months. The time difference when I was abroad made it hard to even talk to her. I hugged my daughter tightly, overwhelmed with guilt. “I’m so sorry, baby. It won’t happen again.” I had thought that by working so hard to give her a head start in life, I was doing what was best for her. But I had completely neglected her emotional well-being. Just then, a message came in from the private investigator. “I found her. Melissa is the woman Mark married in a village ceremony ten years ago…” The more I read, the more my blood ran cold. So I was the other woman? The investigator added one last thing: “I also found that your husband has been making frequent visits to banks and real estate agencies recently. You might want to be careful.” “Okay, thank you for your hard work.” I held my daughter even tighter. In the darkness, my eyes narrowed. I can understand that people change. What I cannot accept is someone daring to plot against me and my daughter. After Eleanor was asleep, I got up and texted my lawyer. “I want to divorce Mark. And I want him to leave with nothing.” Two days later, Eleanor’s school was holding an arts festival. I got her excused for the day and took her to my parents’ house. Mark was visibly relieved. “A little break will do Eleanor good,” he said with a smile. “Oh, by the way, I have something to do later, so I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up for me.” “Okay,” I said, giving him a long, meaningful look. The moment he left, I followed him. As I suspected, he went straight to the school. A wave of hatred washed over me. He had always used the excuse of being too busy to attend any of Eleanor’s school events. But now, for Leo, he had all the time in the world. The auditorium was filled with parents. I put on a mask and found a seat. Before long, I saw Melissa and Leo sitting diagonally from me. She was staring at the stage, where Mark was speaking as a parent representative, her eyes shining with adoration. The principal smiled at Mark. “Mr. Collins, would you mind sharing some of your parenting wisdom with us? Leo has made incredible progress since he transferred here this semester. Could you tell us your secret?” I smirked. Leo’s dad, indeed. Mark smiled and raised the microphone. After a few pleasantries, he looked down at Leo in the audience, his eyes filled with pride. “It’s really not my doing. He’s a smart kid, just a little mischievous. I’m usually busy, but I try to spend as much time with him as I can…” The other parents nodded in approval. But then, a student suddenly shouted, “Whose dad are you, anyway?” 4 The auditorium fell silent. The smile on Mark’s face froze. The little boy, ignoring his parents’ attempts to shush him, stood up. “A few days ago, Eleanor showed me a picture of you and said you were her dad!” Gasps rippled through the crowd. The boy’s parents quickly covered his mouth, laughing nervously and saying he was just a child. The principal tried to smooth things over. “Are Eleanor and Leo siblings?” Mark was about to say yes, when Leo shot to his feet and yelled, “No! I’m not related to that selfish brat! Daddy is mine! She stole my daddy!” The room exploded. “What’s going on? Is Eleanor’s mom the other woman?” “That’s terrible! He’s two-timing them…” I couldn’t imagine how my daughter would feel if she heard this. Thank God she wasn’t here. Mark suddenly beckoned for Melissa and Leo to join him on stage. The three of them stood together, a perfect picture of a happy family. Mark put on a pained expression. “Teachers, parents… I’m ashamed to have to admit this. Sophia, Eleanor’s mother, and I divorced a long time ago. We’ve been living together for our daughter’s sake.” Sitting in the audience, my knuckles turned white. Mark put a protective arm around Melissa. “And Melissa… was my first love.” Their eyes met, sparks flying between them. If I wasn’t one of the parties involved, I might have actually found it romantic. Mark’s voice caught with emotion. “When I went away to college, she stayed behind to take care of my parents. I was always grateful to her. Later, I got the opportunity to study abroad, and we lost touch. I thought she had married someone else. But six months ago, I found out she had waited for me all these years… and that she had given birth to my son.” Melissa just stood there, her head bowed, silent tears streaming down her face. The murmurs in the crowd began to change. “Oh, so that’s the story. They’ve really been through a lot.” “It’s not really Mark’s fault, is it? If he was already divorced from Eleanor’s mom, there’s nothing wrong with getting back together with his first love.” Melissa chose that moment to look up, her eyes red and her voice choked with emotion. “Mark, don’t say any more. If it wasn’t for Leo getting sick, I would never have come to bother you. I’m a woman, I understand. Even though you and Sophia are divorced, she wouldn’t want me around. She must hate me…” She spoke with such noble restraint. Leo, with the uncanny intuition of a child, started shouting at Mark. “Daddy, don’t be with that bad lady anymore! The other day, she was secretly calling Mommy a gold-digging poor relative!” “Leo, stop it,” Melissa said, grabbing his arm. But her half-hearted attempt only made me look worse. Mark was overcome with protective sympathy. He promised them he would never let them be wronged again. I watched the tragic couple on stage, my stomach churning. When Mark was trying to marry me, he had never mentioned a word about Melissa. Now that he was successful, he suddenly remembered he had a long-lost love? A parent whispered, “That Eleanor’s mom always seemed so aggressive. I can’t believe she’d try to control her ex-husband’s life, too. She has no class.” “Yeah, it’s not like he cheated on her. They’re just rekindling an old flame. What business is it of hers?” Just then, I received a text from my lawyer. [It’s all taken care of. Mark’s illegal transfer of assets has been frozen, and the divorce petition has been filed…] I smiled and turned off my phone. Mark was in the middle of a huge project, planning to invest hundreds of millions. With his assets frozen, that project was dead in the water. Let the show begin. Amidst the noise, I took out the miniature megaphone I had prepared. “Since when am I divorced?”

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The moment my A-list actress ex and I broke up, my agent booked me on a fully livestreamed dating show. On set, the host leaned in. “Liam, have you ever been in a serious relationship?” I kept my voice low. “Yeah. She was too clingy. We broke up.” Next, she turned to the superstar Celina Mellon. But Celina’s eyes were locked on me, unblinking. “I have. My ex is on a dating show now.” The live chat exploded. “The goddess Celina was in a relationship?!” Before the crew or the audience could even process it, she offered the camera a devastatingly sweet smile. “This one, actually. The one we’re on right now.” Within minutes, hashtags like #CelinaMellonSecretEx and #IsTheHeartSignalGuyHerEx were dominating the trending topics for the rest of the day. 1 Heart Signal was a celebrity dating show that was a phenomenon before a single episode even aired. The biggest draw was the “Frostfire” ship—the pairing of superstar Celina Mellon and rising star Evan Frost. They’d just wrapped a historical drama where their characters were locked in a tragic, love-hate romance that had viewers obsessed. When Evan made his entrance, the live chat went into a frenzy. OMG EVAN IS HERE! HE’S SO HOT! Evan and Celina on the same show? This is basically their public announcement, right? I’M SHIPPING THIS SO HARD. FROSTFIRE IS EVERYTHING! My reception was… different. The moment I walked on screen, the comments turned sour. Why the hell is Liam Xie on this show? Ugh, gross. He’s such a clout-chaser. Obviously just here to leech off Frostfire’s fame. Guess any publicity is good publicity if you have zero shame. The show was broadcast live, with a polished, edited version released weekly on streaming platforms. I was the first to arrive at the luxurious villa, and I immediately claimed a seat in the farthest corner, hoping to disappear into the upholstery. The second person to walk through the door was Celina Mellon. My ex-girlfriend. 2 I subtly shifted in my seat, trying to put a little more distance between us. She just raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. But before she could say a word, a bright, cheerful laugh echoed from the entrance. “Hey, everyone! You’re all here already!” Evan strode in, all youthful energy in a black tank top and jeans. “Liam, my man, long time no see! And Celina! So good to see you again!” He slid onto the sofa right next to Celina, instantly launching into an animated conversation as if they were old friends. A massive screen on the wall displayed the live comments in real-time. I glanced at it. OMG OMG FROSTFIRE IS REAL! HE SAT RIGHT NEXT TO HER! The way Celina looks at Evan is pure fire! You can see the sparks! Just get married already! I’ve already set aside money for a wedding gift! Ten minutes later, all eight contestants—four men and four women, a mix of celebrities and professionals from other fields—had arrived. The producers kicked things off with a simple icebreaker: “Have you ever been in a relationship before?” Evan shot a shy look at Celina. “No, I haven’t. But I definitely have an ideal type I admire.” The live chat went wild again. When it was my turn, I kept it brief. “I have. We broke up. We just weren’t compatible.” The haters in the chat seized their chance. LOL, ‘not compatible’ means his personality sucked and she got sick of him and dumped him. Then, it was Celina’s turn. The room held its breath. A slow, deliberate smile touched her beautiful lips. “I have,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “My ex is on a dating show.” 3 Her words were a bombshell. The live chat erupted, and I could see the show’s director practically vibrating with excitement off-camera. The director’s voice came over the speaker, unable to resist. “Could you tell us which dating show?” Celina’s gaze flickered towards me for a split second, so fast you could have missed it. I pretended not to notice. Right. What was her game? Was she trying to use me to generate buzz for her new PR-manufactured relationship with Evan? Nice try. I wasn’t playing along. The director, practically salivating for the scoop, pressed again. “You can’t tell us?” Celina let out a light laugh, as if it were all just a joke. “It’s the one we’re on right now.” The live chat detonated. IS SHE FOR REAL?!?! It has to be Evan! Her ex is Evan! That’s why their chemistry in the drama was so insane! OMG she came on this show to win him back! THIS IS THE MOST EPIC LOVE STORY EVER. I AM SO HERE FOR THIS! 4 The show had its viral moment. The director was thrilled. I, however, was not. During a bathroom break, I shot Celina a text. Have you lost your damn mind? She replied almost instantly. Yep. And you’re the one who flooded it. Me: ??? She didn’t write back. The show was still filming, so I couldn’t stay away for long. I washed my hands and headed back out. We were moving on to choosing rooms. The last person I wanted to share a room with was Evan, but of course, he slung his arm around my shoulder like we were best friends. “Hey, Liam, let’s be roommates! We haven’t had a real chance to catch up. We could talk all night!” I pulled away, my voice cool. “We’re supposed to draw lots. Let’s just stick to the rules.” Cut the fake buddy act. The last time we were on a show together, he used me as a stepping stool, building his “straight-shooter” persona by having the editors maliciously splice my footage. The whole country ended up hating me. Did he really think he could pull the same trick twice? The chat was already eating it up. What’s Liam’s problem? Evan is being so nice and Liam is just a total jerk. Evan, just ignore him. He’s not worth your time. Ignoring the comments, I walked up and drew a card first. Well, what do you know. My luck had turned. I got the single room. Another male contestant suggested, “Hey, let’s help the ladies with their luggage.” I saw Celina start to walk toward me, and I reacted on pure instinct. I grabbed my suitcase and practically sprinted up the stairs like my life depended on it. 5 That evening, the producers introduced the “Heartbeat Message” segment, where we could send one anonymous text to another contestant. After some thought, I sent one to Laura, a young actress who was about as famous as I was. It was a beautiful day today. Hope you can stay happy. Ping. My phone lit up. Someone had sent me a message. The water you think is in my head? They’re the tears I cried over you. I knew instantly it was from Celina. This woman was insane. The live chat was busy speculating. Who sent Liam a message? Definitely not Celina. Evan got one that said he looked handsome today. That was 100% from Celina. Wait, is that message calling Liam crazy? LMAO that’s hilarious! 6 The next morning, I woke up whenever I felt like it and wandered downstairs. Evan was already in the kitchen, presenting Celina with a bowl of breakfast. “Celina, I know you have a sensitive stomach, so I made you some special oatmeal.” Celina looked up, her gaze flicking past him to where I stood on the stairs. “My stomach is fine,” she said flatly. Evan’s smile faltered for a second before he recovered. “Well, I remember that one time on the set when you had that awful stomachache. It really scared me. I’m just glad you’re all better now.” Celina didn’t reply. Hoping to avoid them both, I started to turn back toward my room. “Not eating breakfast?” Celina’s voice stopped me. “I’ll eat later, thanks,” I said politely. Evan bounced over to my side, all smiles. “Skipping breakfast is a bad habit, you know! I made a whole pot of oatmeal for Celina, and there’s no way she can finish it all. You should have a bowl too!” He said it with the casual authority of a boyfriend. His fans in the live chat were swooning, even this early in the morning. Having a boyfriend like Evan would be heaven. Celina, you better appreciate him! Aww, she said her stomach was fine because she didn’t want him to worry! They care so much about each other! Liam, get out of the frame! You’re ruining the shot! 7 Trapped, I decided my only escape was to cook for myself. I headed into the kitchen and started making pasta. My grandmother taught me how to cook, and her recipes were legendary. Back when Celina and I were still together, she used to wrap her arms around me and beg, “Babe, can we have a date at the farmer’s market today? Please?” I’d laugh and poke her side. “Is this a date, or are you just hungry again?” She’d flip me over onto the couch, pinning me down, her dark, intense eyes staring into mine. “If you don’t let me crave food, I’ll just have to crave you instead.” I could never say no to her. We’d put on disguises, dress down, and sneak off to the market hand-in-hand. The villa’s pantry was limited, but I found everything I needed for a simple, spicy tomato and basil pasta. Soon, the rich aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air. Laura, the other actress, came downstairs, sniffing dramatically. “Who is tempting my soul with that incredible smell?” “Laura, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?” I offered politely. “I made a small pot, enough for two.” Before Laura could even take a step, Celina was there first. Her eyes, the ones her fans claimed could generate electricity, were wide and pleading like a kitten’s, fixed on the simmering pot. “Can I have some?” I deliberately took a step back. “Sorry, I already offered it to Laura.” The live chat scoffed. It’s just a bowl of pasta. What’s the big deal? Celina, let Evan cook for you! Evan is an amazing cook! He’s a total catch! Evan must have seen the comments scrolling on the big screen. He shot me a playful wink. “I’ll make some pasta too! How about a little cook-off, Liam? See whose is better?” 8 The kitchen had two stovetops, so Evan started his performance. Every movement was graceful, designed for the camera. “Celina, could you help me with my apron strings?” he asked, holding up an apron, his eyes full of hopeful pleading. As if on cue, Celina also picked up an apron—a frilly pink one—as though she had already anticipated his request. Laura and I stood off to the side like spectators at a tennis match. She leaned in and whispered, “I’ve already placed my bet. Five bags of spicy chips says I know who Celina’s ex is.” I was surprised. “Where are you placing bets?” “You don’t know? The internet is going crazy with polls guessing Celina’s ex. Evan’s currently got 99% of the vote.” A flicker of morbid curiosity hit me. “How many votes do I have?” I whispered back. Laura gave me a look of deep pity. “0.008%.” “…” Just then, Evan let out a sharp cry. “Celina?” But Celina, holding the pink apron, was walking straight toward me. She moved so fast I didn’t have time to react. Before I knew it, she had slipped the apron over my head. Her cool fingertips brushed against the nape of my neck, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. She seemed not to notice, her expression perfectly serious as she tied the strings snugly behind my back. “Good luck with the competition, Liam,” she said, stepping back with a faint, knowing smile. “I’ll be waiting for your pasta.” 9 I had no intention of competing with Evan. I was about to take the stupid apron off when I heard him shout in pain. “Ah! Hot!” He’d lifted a pot lid, and the steam had apparently burned him. He looked at Celina like a wounded puppy. “Celina… could you get the burn cream for me? It’s in my suitcase in my room.” His fans in the live chat were frantic. Oh my god, Evan burned himself! It must hurt so much! Celina, go get the cream for him! Hurry! Is Celina frozen in shock? Why isn’t she moving? I couldn’t help but look at Celina. She was smiling—a completely innocent, harmless smile. “I’m a woman,” she said slowly, her voice clear as a bell. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to go into a man’s room.” She tilted her head. “Evan, is your leg okay?” “You should probably go get that cream yourself. If you wait any longer, your hand might just heal on its own.” I barely managed to stifle a laugh. She was actually letting her sharp-tongued, true self show on camera. I glanced at Evan’s hand. It was fine, just a little red from where he’d been rubbing it himself. But he was playing up the pain, hissing through his teeth. “Celina, how can you joke at a time like this? Fine, fine. I’ll go get it myself.” He turned and stormed upstairs. The live chat went into overdrive. Okay, no more guessing. Celina’s ex is 100% Evan. I’m calling him my brother-in-law from now on! Celina, please win him back! My Frostfire ship cannot sink! 10 After breakfast, it was time for the paired-up date activity. The rules were simple: the men would draw names blindly. As luck would have it, I drew Celina. And Evan drew Laura. The live chat was already spewing vitriol. Is the production team trying to torture us? Making me watch Celina on a date with Liam is worse than making me eat a hundred flies. Liam, you better have some damn sense and switch with Evan right now or I’ll curse your entire family. The comments got uglier and uglier. And it triggered my defiant streak. I was actually going to offer to switch with Evan, but not anymore. I turned to Celina with a polite smile. “Well, Ms. Mellon, it looks like you’re stuck with me today.” Celina returned my smile with one of her trademark serene ones. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Xie.” The date the producers had arranged for us? A haunted house attraction. I just had to thank them for that. Celina and I had been to one before. In public, she was all cool composure, but she was secretly terrified of ghosts. The last time, a staff member in a ghost costume scared her so badly she shrieked and clung to me like a limpet, refusing to let go. If that got filmed, my entire family getting cursed online would be the least of my worries. “You better be brave in there,” I warned her in a low voice while we waited to go in, away from the cameras. “And don’t you dare jump on me.” Celina looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Phobias are a psychological condition. I can’t control it.” “If you can’t control it,” I threatened, “I’ll start leaking all your embarrassing secrets.” That seemed to pique her interest. “What secrets? Do tell.” I leaned closer, my voice barely a whisper. “That the public’s ‘Ice Queen’ is actually a secret softie who still sleeps with a stuffed animal and has the emotional maturity of a nine-year-old.” Celina’s eyebrow arched, and a slow smile spread across her face. “You know, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of adorable.” “…” She was unbelievable. 11 The haunted house was dark and reeked of fake dread. A bloody, severed head dangled from the ceiling, swaying gently. I could feel Celina practically pressing herself against my back. “It’s all fake, Celina!” I said, a little too loudly. “Don’t be scared!” “It feels pretty real to me,” she hissed. Just as she finished her sentence, a monster-faced actor leaped out from a dark corner. Celina screamed, a genuine, piercing shriek, and her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a death grip. “Liam! Where are you?” I almost laughed out of sheer exasperation. Where am I? In your clutches! “Celina,” I said, trying to stay calm. “If you’re really that scared, just hold onto my shirt. I’ll get you out of here.” She didn’t hesitate, her fingers immediately lacing with mine. The night-vision camera was rolling. The footage would be grainy, but it would be clear enough. At that point, I just gave up. I started running, pulling her along with me, shouting nonsense. “Just run, Celina! If you can run faster than the ghosts, they can’t get you!” I think I made her laugh. She squeezed my hand gently. I squeezed back, hard. She laughed again, her voice a low murmur only I could hear. “Go ahead. Take it all out on me.” When we finally stumbled out of the exit, the expressions on the crew members’ faces were priceless. A mixture of shock and pure, unadulterated glee. My makeup artist discreetly showed me her phone with the live chat feed. AM I DEAF? WHAT DID I JUST HEAR?! Celina called Liam ‘Liam!’ like that! SHE HELD HIS HAND! SHE WAS HOLDING ON SO TIGHT! Okay everyone, calm down. We all know Celina is terrified of ghosts. It was just an instinctual reaction to fear. 12 Back at the villa, Evan was sitting on the sofa with red-rimmed eyes. The big screen with the live chat was right next to him. I took a peek. Poor Evan! My heart breaks for him! He twisted his ankle and couldn’t go on his date, and he had to watch Celina with another guy. I bet Liam is secretly gloating right now. Celina’s hand is tainted now. Ugh… That last one was so ridiculous I almost choked. I couldn’t help myself. I looked right at the camera monitoring the living room and said to the audience, “Her hand is tainted? Should she cut it off, then?” The viewers in the livestream were stunned into silence for a second. What is he doing? Is he talking to us? Is he mocking us?! Just then, Celina came over, having changed her shoes. “What are you laughing at?” she asked. “I’m laughing,” I said, “at the idea of you becoming a female Captain Hook.” Celina: “?” The chat suddenly erupted with “HAHAHAHA.” Celina is so confused! How does she look so beautiful even when she’s completely baffled? You know… I’m suddenly starting to feel a little bit of chemistry between Liam and Celina? Person above me, do NOT ship this! Forbidden! 13 The production team knew how to stir the pot. That night, they arranged a game of “Truth or Dare.” In a twist of fate that was definitely not staged, Celina and I both drew the exact same dare: “Call your ex.” Right. No manipulation there at all. I answered honestly. “Blocked her number, deleted her from my contacts. Can’t do it.” A few of the other contestants gave a polite, awkward laugh. But Celina was looking at me, her gaze intense. “Unlike Liam,” she said slowly, her voice carrying across the room, “I’m the one who got blocked. I can’t call him or text him.” The director, just off-camera, looked like a starved animal that had just stumbled upon a feast. The chat buzzed with speculation. Wait, what? Am I sensing some real drama here? It’s just for the show, guys. It’s scripted! Celina’s ex is obviously Evan. Don’t fall for it! Then Celina added, her eyes still on me, “I wish he would unblock me.” The director couldn’t contain himself. His voice piped in from off-screen. “If he did, what would you want to say to him?” Celina didn’t miss a beat. “I’d want to ask him where I can get the limited-edition handbag he bought me repaired. One of the studs fell off.” The director was speechless. The chat went wild with laughter. That’s my queen! Celina, you could just ask Evan right there where to get it fixed! Why fix it? Just get back together and have Evan buy you a new one! And then, Celina turned her haunting gaze back to me. “Liam,” she asked, her voice deceptively sweet. “Do you know where it can be repaired?” Me: !!!

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