Category: English

“ I’m back. Do you still want me?” The text message glowed on my screen, a ghost from another life. Staring at the words, I felt the past pull at me, a current dragging me under. A hand snatched the phone from my grasp. I looked up to see my husband, Grayson, his brow furrowed in a familiar, impatient line. “What are you doing, looking at my phone?” he demanded. “I told you, Chloe is the only one who matters to me.” I didn’t say anything, which only seemed to irritate him more. “Of course,” he added, a dismissive wave of his hand, “I’m not going to divorce you.” My heart gave a sharp, painful little jump. He’d misunderstood completely. “Grayson,” I said, my voice flat. “That’s my phone you’re holding.” The confidence on his face collapsed. It was replaced by a dark, ugly suspicion. “Who is this man?” 1 I’m back. Do you still want me? That was it. No name, no context. But I didn’t need any. I knew who it was from. Just seeing his name in my mind was enough to make the present fade away. I was lost in a memory so vivid I didn’t even hear Grayson walk up behind me. He ripped the phone from my hands, his expression tightening. “Ava. When did you pick up the charming habit of snooping through other people’s phones?” I saw a flash of genuine disgust in his eyes. In the nearly five years we’d been married, he’d mostly treated me with a cool indifference, a polite disregard. I’d never seen such a raw emotion from him directed at me. “I’ve told you,” he said, his voice clipped. “Chloe is the one who matters.” I blinked, the words echoing strangely. Had he told me? Or had I simply overheard that hushed, frantic phone call, and he’d only “confessed” after he knew he was caught? It wasn’t a confession. It was a notification. An amendment to the terms and conditions of our marriage. When my silence stretched on, he sighed, as if granting a great concession. “And I’m not going to divorce you, obviously.” A muscle in my jaw twitched. The depth of his self-absorption was almost impressive. I couldn’t resist. “You’re holding my phone.” He swiped up, his thumb moving across the screen. There was only the one message. The sleek black case, the screen protector… it wasn’t his phone. Grayson’s face soured. “Who is this man?” 2 I knew that in moments like this, any hint of evasion would only feed Grayson’s suspicion. So I gave him the truth, or at least part of it. “My ex, I think.” His hand tightened around my phone, the knuckles white. I had to gently remind him again before he returned it to me. It was an easy mistake to make. We had identical phones, the same models, the same cases. And, ironically, the message was a mirror image of our own drama. His Chloe, his great lost love, had sent him the exact same text a year ago. I’m back. Do you still want me? What a coincidence. The only difference was the date stamp, a tiny line of text easily overlooked. Grayson had been on his way out, but now he seemed to have changed his mind. He sank onto the edge of the sofa, assuming an air of casual inquiry that didn’t fool me for a second. “He’s your ex?” Even though I’d already told him, I nodded. “My ex.” My first love, actually. The boy next door. My fiancé, once upon a time, in a childhood pact that felt more real than this marriage ever had. “How long were you together?” “A little over a year.” If you only count from the first kiss, that was true. “When did you break up?” “2019.” The year before I married Grayson. Time flies. It was hard to believe Grayson and I were approaching our fifth anniversary. I saw the tension leave his shoulders. He was relaxing, deciding this ghost from the past was no real threat. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up, isn’t it? We should go…” “Does your offer to let me see other people still stand?” We both spoke at the exact same time, our words colliding in the quiet room. A stunned silence followed. Grayson stared down at the tips of his expensive Italian loafers, his thoughts a closed book. I decided to break the standoff. “What were you saying? We should go where?” “To the family estate,” he said. “Oh.” Of course. A family obligation. For a foolish second, I’d thought he meant a trip, a celebration for us. Good thing I hadn’t let that thought take root. Silence fell again. I studied his profile, half-cast in the shadows from the window. No expression. No emotion. I took a breath and decided to push. “The offer you made. About us… seeing other people. Does it still stand?” 3 He’d said it two months ago, during a particularly nasty fight. He was tired of my questions, my accusations. He’d finally snapped. “Can you just stop watching my every move?” he’d spat out. “For God’s sake, Ava, go find someone else to keep you busy. We can have an arrangement.” At the time, the words had stolen the air from my lungs. I felt like I was suffocating. Now, strangely, I felt a flicker of gratitude for his cruelty. Time really is a master storyteller. It breaks you, but if you learn to bend with it, it can offer the most unexpected gifts. A dry, mirthless laugh escaped Grayson’s lips. “Yes. Of course, it stands.” He stood up and strode toward the door. His hand was on the handle when he paused. He didn’t turn around, but his voice carried back to me, clear and cold. “I meant what I said. We can have an arrangement.” A beat. “But you are still my wife. Mrs. Hawke. Just… be discreet.” “Okay,” I replied, my voice meek and agreeable. I’d use him as my benchmark. It’s not like I was planning on setting off fireworks across the city for someone, or getting into a brawl at a gala over them. He turned then, his eyes narrowing. “And you’d better make sure he understands the situation. That you’re a married woman.” “The last thing our families need is some messy scandal.” I nodded. He was right. I would tell him. I watched Grayson, but he still didn’t leave. He just stood there, watching me. “Is there anything else?” I asked. His fingers tapped an unconscious, rhythmic beat against the seam of his trousers. “What’s his name?” he asked, adding quickly, “I’m not trying to be… I just don’t want you to get taken advantage of.” I cut him off before he could finish the lie. “Leo Hayes.” “Hayes? From Hayes Innovations? Patrick Hayes’s son?” “I believe so.” I didn’t know if he was the CEO of Hayes Innovations now, but I knew his father’s name was Patrick. This time, Grayson didn’t hesitate. He opened the door and left without a backward glance. 4 I will be reframing this chapter to maintain Ava’s first-person perspective, as per the project’s core instructions for an immersive experience. Sitting alone in the sudden silence of the foyer, I could practically hear the gears turning in Grayson’s head as he walked to his car. A knot of irritation was probably tightening in his chest, a feeling without a clear source. But then he would think of Leo Hayes, and a sense of relief would wash over him. He knew Leo, or at least knew of him. They’d crossed paths once or twice at some benefit or another. Leo had a reputation. He came from old money but had built his own tech empire from the ground up. He had the looks, the pedigree, the ambition—a man who was, in every measurable way, Grayson’s equal. More importantly, a man like Leo Hayes had pride. Principles. He wouldn’t send a message like that if he knew I was married. Men like that don’t become the other man. They don’t involve themselves in sordid affairs that have no winning outcome. And besides, he would tell himself, Ava simply doesn’t have that kind of pull. She isn’t the kind of woman a man like Leo Hayes would risk his reputation for. His phone would buzz then. It would be Chloe. He’d promised to take her to that new restaurant downtown tonight, the one with the six-month waitlist. He’d let it ring three times before answering. “Something came up,” he’d say, his voice softening. “I’ll have to take you next time.” And Chloe, though disappointed, would be understanding. She would tell him to take care of his business and that she’d be waiting. See? he would think, ending the call. That’s the kind of woman I love. Someone sweet and gentle, someone who soothes and supports. Not someone sharp and demanding like Ava, who always has to pick at the seams of things until they unravel. 5 After a long time, I decided to text him back. Leo? Is that you? The reply took so long I was sure it would never come. It’s me. Our breakup had been ugly. He’d seen my choice as the ultimate betrayal. He left the country immediately after and hadn’t been back since. I truly believed we would never speak again, that we would live and die as strangers. It took me a full year after he left to even begin to feel whole again. And then I married Grayson. In the beginning, I was intoxicated by him. He had a gravity, a charisma that pulled all of my attention, making me forget so many of my troubles. I thought, for a while, that I was really falling in love with him. But in the fourth year of our marriage, his great lost love returned. Her name was Chloe. It’s the oldest story in the book. Her family had been paid off by the Hawkes to disappear, to leave Grayson free for a more… suitable match. When she returned and told Grayson the whole tearful story, every rule he lived by evaporated. The day I confronted him about Chloe, he told me without a flicker of hesitation that she was the most important person in his life. That if she had never been forced to leave, I would never have had the chance to marry him in the first place. A single frightened look from her was enough to turn Grayson into a weapon aimed directly at my throat. It was as if our three years of relative happiness had never existed. But we never mentioned divorce. We couldn’t. After five years of marriage, the business dealings between the Hawke and Sterling families were a tangled web six years in the making. The real-world consequences were far more complicated than either of us wanted to deal with. An arrangement, though? That was different. In our circle, affairs were practically a currency. They didn’t threaten the bottom line. Still, my fingers trembled over the screen. I had changed so much. I had no idea who Leo was anymore. I’m married. The words felt like tiny shards of glass as I typed them. The wait for his reply was agonizing. A single question mark appeared. I bit my lip, my mind racing. Finally, I just took a screenshot of the message he’d sent and sent it to him. What did you mean by this? The tension was unbearable. I started typing, my thumbs fumbling. Even though I’m married, my husband and I don’t have that kind of relationship anymore. Before I could finish, an image popped up from him. It was a screenshot of his phone. The screen was empty. There was no “I’m back. Do you still want me?” A wave of nausea washed over me. It was a misunderstanding. I scrambled to delete the humiliating sentence I’d been typing, but my eyes were suddenly blurry with tears. In my panic, my thumb hit send. I wiped my eyes and frantically held down the message, hitting “unsend.” A few seconds later, a new message from him came through. We were playing Truth or Dare this afternoon. My buddy Monk probably grabbed my phone and sent that, then deleted it. I had no idea. I’m sorry if it caused any trouble for you. 6 It wasn’t just disappointment. It was a deep, searing shame. How arrogant was I to think he’d come back for me? That he would want a woman who had shattered his heart and was now trapped in a sham of a marriage? Just because my own morals had been worn down to nothing didn’t mean his had. What was I doing? I typed out an apology, my cheeks burning. Sorry. My mistake. Leo didn’t reply. I couldn’t stand being in this house, this empty museum of a life. I drove to the lounge I always went to and started ordering drinks, one after another. Through a hazy blur, I saw a familiar figure moving toward me. He walked with a purpose, his silhouette cutting through the dim light. It looked like Leo, but it couldn’t be. The man I knew would never look at me with such a cold, impenetrable expression. I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, I was waking up somewhere unfamiliar. I sat up, my head throbbing, and my eyes met Leo’s. He was sitting on the balcony, bathed in the morning light. He was wearing a light gray dress shirt, two buttons undone, offering just a hint of his collarbone. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing tanned forearms with lean, defined muscles. And a long, thin scar that hadn’t been there before. Five years. His face was the same, but time had chiseled away the last of his boyish softness, replacing it with a quiet, magnetic confidence. He was the kind of man who commanded attention even when he was perfectly still. You can tell a lot about a person’s life by looking at them. Leo had clearly done well for himself. He was the first to look away. I realized I’d been staring, far past the point of politeness. I slipped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. When I came out, he was standing with his back to me, looking down at the city below. “Leo, thank you for not leaving me there last night.” My memories were fuzzy, but I remembered enough to know I’d drunkenly latched onto him, refusing to let go. He’d brought me here because he had no other choice. He turned around. “Don’t mention it. I’d do the same for a stranger.” The meaning was clear: Don’t get any ideas. I managed a weak smile. “Well, I should go. I won’t bother you anymore.” I had only taken a few steps when he stopped me. “You need to settle your tab from last night.” Right. The drinks. He must have paid. I pulled out my phone, but when I tried to scan his code, I realized it was a contact request, not a payment QR. “I have a policy about not accepting money from anonymous sources,” he said, his face impassive as he accepted my friend request. Did he always have that policy? I doubted it. But five years is a long time. People change. “So, um, how much do I owe you?” “Seven thousand, five hundred and sixty dollars.” My fingers froze. That couldn’t be right. As if reading my mind, he added, “That includes the cost of my suit.” The memory sharpened with a cringe. I’d thrown up on him. Our first time seeing each other in five years, and I’d ended it by vomiting on his designer suit. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I never wanted to see him again. I rounded the number up and transferred him eight thousand dollars, then practically ran for the door. 7 I was exhausted—physically and emotionally. I got home, showered again, and collapsed into bed. I was hovering in that space between sleep and waking when I heard the bedroom door open. It was Grayson. He was the only one who ever came in while I was sleeping. I heard his footsteps, the sound bringing me to full, alert consciousness. He stopped beside the bed. I could feel his eyes on me, a heavy, scrutinizing gaze. I focused on keeping my breathing slow and even. Every sound was amplified in the stillness. The soft rustle of fabric. The quiet click as he picked up my phone from the nightstand. He knew my passcode; I’d never changed it. It was pathetically easy for him to unlock it. He scrolled for a moment, then stopped. He’d found what he was looking for. I didn’t have any secrets on my phone. I had no idea what he was so desperate to see. After a moment of silence, a low, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Just as I thought,” he murmured to himself. “Who does she think he is?” “She really needs a reality check.” He placed the phone back on the nightstand, the quiet thud echoing in the room. He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Only then did I dare to move, curling into a tight ball and pulling the duvet around me. I knew exactly what he’d been looking at. My conversation with Leo. She really needs a reality check. I repeated the words to myself, a bitter taste filling my mouth. I couldn’t name the feeling twisting in my gut. It was like he’d found the most private, vulnerable corner of my heart and ripped it open for his own amusement. I was more proud than I realized, and his scorn hurt more than I wanted to admit. Tears soaked my pillow before I even realized I was crying. My phone buzzed a few times. I ignored it. A moment later, it started ringing. A phone call. It rang, and rang, and rang. Furious, I snatched it from the nightstand. The screen read: LEO HAYES. I wiped my tears, took a few deep breaths to compose myself, and finally answered. “What is it?” I asked. His voice was different. “What’s wrong with your voice?” I lied instinctively. “Nothing, just a bit of a cold. What’s up?” Silence stretched on the other end of the line. “You left something here,” he finally said. “You need to come get it. Tonight.” He hung up and immediately sent an address, not even giving me a chance to refuse. 8 Leo hadn’t done anything wrong. That’s what I kept telling myself. He wasn’t the same boy who had offered me unconditional love and acceptance. I was the one who needed to adjust my expectations. I pulled myself together. Before I got to the address he’d sent—a sleek, modern downtown condo—I checked my reflection in the car mirror and practiced a relaxed, easy smile. We were childhood friends, after all. We knew each other inside and out. Acting like strangers would be more suspicious than just being normal. I brought a gift with me, a peace offering. It was a set of hand-carved alabaster chess pieces. Leo didn’t have many hobbies, but chess was one of them. I knew he’d had his eye on a set just like this before he left the country. I saw the flicker of surprise and delight in his eyes before he could hide it. I knew he’d like it. “For me?” he asked. I nodded, maintaining my gentle smile. He picked up one of the pieces, the cool white stone a stark contrast to his long, tanned fingers. It suited him. “A strategic gift,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “Are you making a move, Ava?” I looked up sharply. A move? Seeing my expression, he just gave a slight, unreadable smile. I decided I was overthinking it. It was just an offhand comment. “So,” I said, changing the subject. “What did I leave here?” He pulled out his phone and, right in front of me, opened his banking app. He transferred back the extra money I’d sent him. $440 I was completely bewildered. If it was just about the money, why make me come all the way down here? He took a sip of water. “I prefer to handle transactions in person.” Four hundred and forty dollars. He could have made a hundred times that in the time it took me to drive here. Still, I nodded as if this made perfect sense. As I turned to leave, he finally got to the real point. “You have your money back. But now you owe me a favor.” I nodded again. Fair enough. “Come with me to a gala.” I froze, then cleared my throat. “Leo, everyone who matters in this city knows I’m Grayson Hawke’s wife.” He didn’t seem to think this was a problem. “And everyone who matters in this city also knows that you were my childhood sweetheart.” He had a point. If we were open about it, I guess it wouldn’t look like we were hiding anything. The car ride was silent. It wasn’t until we stepped out in front of the grand hotel ballroom that he paused. He looked down at me, then at my arm. I understood. I looped my arm through his. We had barely stepped through the doors when we ran into the last person on earth I wanted to see. Grayson’s face was a thundercloud as his eyes locked onto my hand resting on Leo’s arm. But he wasn’t alone. Chloe was clinging to his other arm, her victory barely concealed. He’d been parading her around at these events for the past year, passing her off as his “secretary” as the thinnest of veils. So why did he look so furious now? He looked like he was seconds away from losing his composure in front of everyone. I didn’t remove my arm. Instead, fueled by a sudden spike of defiance, I gave Leo’s bicep a little squeeze. Definitely more toned than Grayson’s. He blocked our path. “Mr. Hawke,” Leo said, his voice dangerously smooth. “Is there a problem?” Grayson’s eyes were only for me. He reached out to grab my arm, but Leo shifted, blocking him. My husband took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s go somewhere private,” he hissed. “Unless you want to make a scene that embarrasses both of us.” I glanced around. A few people were already starting to notice. Grayson and Chloe were a known quantity. But this… this was new. He was the man, the powerful CEO. He could get away with it. I couldn’t. I sighed. “Leo and I grew up together,” I explained, my voice low. “Most of the people here know that. It’s not what you think.” Grayson let out a cold snort. “Right. ‘Childhood sweethearts.’” I ignored his sarcasm and tried to steer Leo in another direction. But Grayson moved again, blocking us. He wasn’t going to let this go. Fine. If he wanted a confrontation, he would get one. “Outside,” I said.

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I ran into my husband’s first love at a job fair. She was clutching a resume with a five-year gap, a ghost from a life she’d left behind. She looked lost, wilting under the sharp questions of our company’s HR rep. And I was the hiring director for the day. I asked her a few standard questions. Her eyes darted past me, searching for Alex, who was sitting by my side. He gave her a placid, reassuring smile. “Just answer the questions. Our hiring director is very professional.” But the moment we left the event floor, he turned on me. “What was that? Why all the questions? Were you trying to prove something?” 1. I honestly didn’t see it coming. The second the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize his mistake. He shot me a cautious look, then added awkwardly, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t think we need to make things harder for a woman who’s been a stay-at-home mom for five years.” If he hadn’t added that last part, I might have let it go. An old flame shows up, things get a little weird—for people our age, it should have been a non-event. But that little addendum, that clumsy justification, left a sour taste in my mouth. Because I replayed the entire conversation in my head, and I couldn’t find a single moment where I’d been out of line. My questions had been perfectly ordinary. “Could you explain the five-year gap on your resume?” “Why are you looking for a position outside of your academic field?” “What interests you about our company specifically?” Her answers had been halting, evasive, each pause a small window into a life of quiet hardship. I looked at him, my expression flat. “So you think I was giving her a hard time? Did a single one of my questions fall outside the scope of my job?” “No,” he mumbled, his anger deflating into something else. “I overreacted. I’m sorry. It’s not a big deal. It just feels like… like one of life’s little ironies, you know? It’s just a lot to take in.” An irony. Yeah, you could call it that. No one ever thought the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, Alex Zhou, would become a successful entrepreneur. Just like no one ever thought the golden girl of our high school, Leah, would end up a cautionary tale. And absolutely no one, least of all me, ever thought Alex would end up marrying me—the girl who couldn’t stand her. 2. It should have been a cliché story. But when you’re the one living in it, the plot twists still feel breathtaking. Alex and I grew up together. I had a silent, hopeless crush on him for years. But he fell for Leah Xiang, the daughter my father’s new trophy wife brought with her into our home. Leah had her mother’s eyes—the kind that could charm a snake or a man with equal ease. Those years were a blur of misery. I lost my father’s affection and any hope of Alex’s, all in one fell swoop. Eventually, my father and her mother divorced. Alex and Leah broke up. And Alex and I lost touch completely. Years later, a headhunter set up a meeting. The role was at a promising startup. The founder, they said, was a man named Alex Zhou. We met again. This time, it was different. We worked together, side-by-side, building something from nothing. A new kind of affection grew, something steadier and more real than a teenage crush. One day, we decided to spend the rest of our lives together. It was the fastest, and surest, decision I’d ever made. Our marriage had been smooth sailing, a constant affirmation that I’d made the right choice. Until now. The silence in the car was thick and uncomfortable. He kept glancing at me, but I refused to speak. I hadn’t created this awkwardness; I wasn’t going to be the one to fix it. Alex knows me too well. He tried again. “Nina, I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “It was a stupid thing to say. Can you forgive me? I promise I’ll never speak to you like that again.” It was an easy promise to make. Alex probably didn’t realize then how many times he would break it, again and again, until I finally had nothing left to give. But in that moment, I let it go. I’ve never been one to hold a grudge. It’s probably one of the things he’s always liked about me—how comfortable I am to be around. 3. A few days later, I was in my office, sorting through the final candidates for the open position. Somehow, Leah’s resume was in the pile. I was sure I had filtered it out in the initial screening. It was still the same unimpressive document, practically useless. Her degree and her scant work experience were completely irrelevant to any of the roles we were hiring for. I called in my assistant, Sarah. “Did anyone come into my office today?” She looked confused. “I didn’t see anyone, Nina. Is something wrong? Is something missing?” I shook my head, holding up Leah’s resume. “Something was added. You did the initial screening, right?” “Yes.” “I remember we discarded this one. Leah Xiang. Why is it back on my desk?” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Oh, that one. Mr. Zhou brought it by. He said to make sure she gets an interview.” My silence was a question she felt compelled to answer. “He said he wouldn’t interfere with the final decision, but that we had to at least give her a chance in the process.” I didn’t say anything. Sarah mumbled, more to herself than to me, “He said that, but we can’t actually just go through the motions, can we? The thing is, her resume doesn’t fit any of the department openings. I have no idea where to even place her for an interview.” A cool, thin smile touched my lips. “Then do exactly what Alex said. We follow the normal process. Send her resume to all the department heads. If someone picks her, she gets an interview. If not…” Sarah’s eyes lit up. “If no one chooses her, the resume just goes back into the general pool. It’s all by the book, and no one has to make a difficult decision.” She gave me a thumbs-up. “That’s why you’re the boss.” That night, Alex was restless. He kept pacing, starting sentences he didn’t finish. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I put Leah’s resume back in the pile. Did you see it?” “I did,” I said, my voice even. “Can I ask why? You know she isn’t qualified for any of our openings. You’re interfering with my work, Alex.” 4. He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “Look, I wasn’t going to. But she’s in a really bad place, Nina. I thought we could find some small, unimportant role for her. Something to help her get by.” My laugh was short and sharp. “I had no idea you were such a philanthropist. When did you two get back in touch? Before the job fair, or after?” “After,” he said immediately. “I swear. We haven’t spoken in years. Running into her that day was a complete shock to us both.” “We?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s we?” He corrected himself. “I mean, it was a shock for me. And for you. For us to see her there. It was just a coincidence.” He took a breath. “She came by the office to see you a couple of times, but you were out. I ran into her one of those times.” “She came to see me?” I asked, skeptical. “I never got a message. Sarah never scheduled a meeting. Are you sure she was there to see me? Or was she just waiting for the right person to show up?” Alex was quick to defend her. “She’s not like that, Nina. She’s not a schemer. She wouldn’t do something so roundabout.” “And if she really wanted to see me,” he added, a little too quickly, “she could have just made an appointment. Why go to all that trouble?” “So what is it you want to talk about tonight, Alex? Let’s just get to the point.” He seemed to have rehearsed this part. The words tumbled out. “Put her in the finance department. She told me she’s studying for her accounting certification. She can start as a cashier.” I almost laughed out loud. “And that’s what you call an ‘unimportant role’?” My sarcasm must have stung. His tone hardened. “So what are you saying? That I don’t have the right to hire a single person in my own company?” 5. I just stood there, staring at him. He looked like my husband, but a stranger was looking out of his eyes. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Finally, I gave him the answer he was waiting for. “You win.” Relief washed over his face. He smiled, pulling me into a hug and whispering into my hair. “Look, your dad called me about it, too. Said she was your stepsister once, after all. If I didn’t do something, it would look cold.” The mention of my father sent a familiar chill down my spine. You always trip over the same stone. It was true for my father. Maybe it was true for Alex, too. “Why didn’t you just lead with that? That my father asked you to?” He chuckled, stroking my hair. “I was trying not to. I know how you two get. You’d just end up in another fight, and let’s be honest, he’s sent a lot of business our way over the years. You can afford to hold a grudge. I can’t.” He pulled back to look me in the eye, his expression serious. “Now that you’ve agreed, don’t start anything with him. Let’s just let this go. I promise you, she’ll stay in that entry-level job and that’s it. No promotions. This is our company, Nina. I would never let anyone threaten that.” His words were firm, absolute. They reminded me of the promises my father made at my mother’s bedside as she was dying. He’d sworn to God he would never remarry. That he would spend the rest of his life taking care of me, his only daughter. When men make vows, they always believe they mean them. My father’s vow lasted less than four years. Two years after my mother’s death, his business started to take off. There were always women around, but he kept his promise not to marry. Until Leah’s mother appeared. He practically stumbled over himself to welcome her into his life, to share everything he had with her. She moved in on the fourth anniversary of my mother’s death. So, what about Alex? How long would his promise last? Could I really trust him? 6. For a long time after that, Alex was the perfect husband. He was even more attentive than usual, as if trying to soothe a guilty conscience I hadn’t accused him of having. We fell into a rhythm that felt like a second honeymoon, and he seemed happier, more vibrant than he had in years. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, Alex stopped visiting the finance department entirely. Any issues were handled through his assistant. But the human mind is a strange thing. The more he went out of his way to avoid her, the more I felt a creeping sense of unease beneath all the renewed affection. A man who has truly let go of the past doesn’t need to work so hard to prove it. One afternoon, I had a proposal that needed his signature. It was almost the end of the day, so I went up to his office to catch him before he left. He wasn’t there. His assistant stammered, saying he was “out on an errand.” “An errand?” I asked, puzzled. “Why didn’t you go with him? Did he drive himself? He didn’t say anything to me.” We usually commuted together, sharing a car. If one of us had a change of plans, we always let the other know. But my phone was silent. The assistant suddenly looked more confident. “He’s generally back before closing. Why don’t you wait for him in your office?” As I walked down the stairs, her words echoed in my head. Generally? That meant this wasn’t the first time. Our company didn’t have many external matters that required the CEO’s personal attention. And he had certainly never mentioned any of them to me. I glanced at my watch, and an idea sparked. I walked straight to the parking garage. It was 5:10 PM, twenty minutes before most of the offices in our building let out. The garage was full, but still. One car stood out. It was a large SUV. A common model, but the color was a custom order. It had been my birthday gift to him. Its headlights were on, illuminating the two people sitting very close inside. They were so absorbed in their conversation that they didn’t even notice me as I walked past the passenger-side window. The car’s soundproofing was good, but I could hear snippets of their voices, fragmented and low. Urgent. And intimate. 7. I didn’t really need to hear what they were saying. Or maybe I just didn’t care anymore. But when he reached out and pulled her into a hug, I felt it. Heartbreak, it turns out, actually makes a sound. It’s like the shattering of glass on a tile floor. A sharp, clear crack, and by the time you look down to find the source, the pieces are already scattered and unrecognizable. But I am not the kind of woman who curls up and disappears. If I was going to be in pain, I wasn’t going to suffer alone. I walked to the driver’s side and tapped my knuckles sharply on the window. I had the satisfaction of watching two figures spring apart as if electrocuted.

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On my birthday, my girlfriend, the undisputed queen bee of Manhattan’s elite, bailed on me again. This time, to hand out flyers for a foot massage parlor. “You’re loaded,” I said, barely containing my anger. “Do you really have to play this ‘poor girl’ game?” Jennifer’s voice turned to ice. “I told you, I’m buying a gift for Leo with my own hard-earned money. And speaking of which, you need to get down to the spa right now, Asher. I signed you up for a shift. We’re still a few hundred bucks short for his new laptop.” I nearly ground my teeth to dust. “I’m done playing this game, Jennifer. We’re over. The engagement is off.” 1 I hung up, but Jennifer’s calls kept coming, one after another, like a death knell. I finally blocked her number out of sheer frustration. My friend stared at me, his eyes wide. “Dude, Jennifer actually called you, and you hung up on her?” Everyone in our circle knew I was Jennifer’s lapdog. I’d chased her for over a decade, and she only agreed to marry me because our families insisted on a merger. For years, she was the center of my universe, but I could never melt her frozen heart. I was tired. I raised my glass with a smile. “Here’s to my birthday, and to being single again!” The words landed like a lead weight. The private room fell silent, everyone frozen in place. Suddenly, the door swung open. “Asher, you snake! You scored a free night in the VIP suite and didn’t even invite us?” Jennifer breezed in, dragging a slightly awkward-looking Leo with her. In a room full of designer clothes and old money, Jennifer’s twenty-dollar fast-fashion t-shirt and Leo’s generic sneakers stuck out like a sore thumb. But instantly, the entire room shifted gears. Conversations about yachts and Michelin-starred restaurants morphed into debates over the best takeout deals, everyone playing along with Jennifer’s charade. My eyes immediately locked onto the Omega watch on Leo’s wrist. The same one I’d bought with the money I’d earned driving for Uber after my day job and pulling all-nighters on freelance projects. Leo noticed my gaze and asked with faux innocence, “Hey, Asher, you’re not mad, are you? That Jennifer used the money you worked so hard for to buy me this watch?” I scoffed and looked at Jennifer. She didn’t say a word to shut down his obvious provocation. Instead, she soothed him. “Don’t worry about it, Leo. The gifts I give you are bought with my money. No one else has a right to be upset.” It was clear who Manhattan’s queen bee favored. My so-called friends immediately fell in line. “Yeah, Leo, don’t sweat it. Jennifer can spoil whoever she wants.” “You’ve got great style, man!” “We’re all Jennifer’s friends, so we’re your friends. Anything you need, just ask.” A wave of bitterness washed over me. Some of the people fawning over him were my childhood friends, guys I’d known for twenty years. But two decades of friendship meant nothing against the queen bee’s affection for her pet project. Just then, the waiter wheeled in the massive custom cake I’d ordered. I was about to blow out the candles, a small act of catharsis, when I heard Leo’s ridiculously exaggerated gasp behind me. “Whoa! I’ve never seen a cake this big! Asher, can I make a wish and blow out the candles? Can I cut it?” I gritted my teeth, blew out the candles in one sharp breath, and took the knife from the waiter. “No.” Leo’s smile froze on his face. He clearly hadn’t expected me to refuse him. “Asher, you’re being so cheap! It’s just a cake! What’s the big deal if Leo cuts it?” “Yeah, man, you won’t even do that for Jennifer’s friend?” “Don’t worry, Leo. Next time, we’ll all chip in and get you an even bigger one!” Even my best friend called me stingy. And Leo, the cause of it all, just stood there looking innocent. “It’s fine if Asher doesn’t want to. It’s no big deal.” “Of course it’s a big deal if Leo wants it!” Jennifer strode over and snatched the knife from my hand. She moved so fast that the tip of the blade sliced my cheek. A sharp, stinging pain, followed by beads of blood. Someone bumped into me, and I stumbled back. The crowd swarmed around Leo, cheering him on as he prepared to cut the cake. I was pushed to the periphery. It was my goddamn birthday. My fists clenched. The anger boiled over. I pushed through the crowd and, with all my strength, flipped the entire cake onto the floor. My eyes were burning as I stared at Jennifer. “I’m done with this act!” She lunged to cover my mouth, but the words were already out. “If you and Leo want to play at being poor—” She clamped her hand over my mouth, her eyes darting nervously to Leo. When she saw that his expression hadn’t changed, that he apparently hadn’t heard, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she dragged me into a corner. “Asher,” she hissed, her voice a low threat, “if you say one more word, we are done. Don’t think this engagement gives you a free pass to do whatever you want.” The coldness in her eyes pierced me to the bone. The years of love I’d given her felt like a pathetic joke. I nodded forcefully. Only then did she release me. I gasped for air. “Jennifer, we’re already done. Whatever you and Leo do from now on has nothing to do with me.” She stared at me for a second, then scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Don’t be so dramatic, Asher. You’ve been playing hard to get for twenty years. Can’t you come up with something new? You were the one who was dying to marry me. You really think I’m going to believe you want to break up?” I saw the impatience in her eyes and just laughed. Before I could say anything else, Leo walked over, a worried frown on his face. “Jennifer, there’s a problem with the New Peak proposal. The boss wants me to go back to the office and fix it now.” He looked down at his clothes. “But my shirt got cake on it.” When Jennifer looked at him, her expression softened with a warmth I’d never seen directed at me. She gently wiped a smudge of frosting from his cheek. “Don’t worry, Leo. It’s okay.” Her eyes then flicked to me, her voice once again imperious. “Asher, you go back to the office and fix the New Peak proposal.” “Why should I do his work? It’s my birthday. I’m on vacation. It’s his job, he can do it.” Jennifer’s face darkened. “You have thirty minutes to get back to the office.” She scanned the room, her voice a whip crack. “Birthday’s over. Everybody out.” The room went silent. Thirty seconds later, I was alone in the trashed suite. I touched the cut on my cheek and winced. Being with Jennifer was like this. Getting close to her always meant getting hurt. This painful relationship should have ended a long time ago. Since we were broken up, there was no reason for me to stay at the family company, playing at being a low-level employee. The study abroad plans I’d postponed for years were finally back on the table. I leaned back on the sofa and submitted my resignation through the company portal. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable angry phone call from Jennifer, rejecting my resignation. But it never came. Instead, I opened my phone to see that Jennifer, from her desk in the executive suite, had approved it. She was even more ruthless than I’d imagined. I let out a bitter laugh. Well, if she wanted a clean break, so did I. I drove to the office to pack my things. To keep up the “poor” charade, my desk only held a cheap mug and a framed photo of me and Jennifer on our first day working in the trenches. At first, I thought we were genuinely experiencing what it was like for our employees. Jennifer was earning a pittance but still insisted on treating me to expensive dinners. We lived in a rundown rental, messing around like any other recent college grads—broke but happy. I thought that after twenty years, I had finally won her heart. I never imagined she was only there to get close to Leo. I tore the photo to shreds and threw it in the trash. As I packed my few belongings, a familiar, cloying voice called out. “Asher, you’re really leaving?” It was Leo, his surprise as fake as his sneakers. I rolled my eyes and walked past him without a word. He darted in front of me and then, as if on cue, let out a yelp and crumpled to the floor. Jennifer came running, immediately fussing over him. Seeing that he was unharmed, she rounded on me. “Asher, why did you push Leo? Apologize to him right now!” Leo tugged on her sleeve, biting his lip. “Jennifer, don’t be mad. Asher didn’t mean to push me. He’s just stressed about the New Peak proposal.” At the mention of the proposal, her face went cold. “Where is it? Why haven’t you submitted it yet?” “I resigned yesterday, Jennifer. Find someone else to do it,” I said, my voice tight, and started to walk away. “Stop!” She grabbed my wrist. “Company proposals are confidential. How do we know you didn’t steal it?” A crowd of coworkers gathered, and my face burned with humiliation. I emptied my bag onto the floor. “Then by all means, Team Leader, take your time and inspect everything. I don’t want the bag or anything in it.” I turned and left, ignoring her shouts and accusations. Back at the apartment we’d shared for over a year, I opened my laptop. I unfollowed her on every platform, changed the desktop background from our photo, and deleted a terabyte’s worth of pictures of us. After packing a few essentials into my smallest suitcase, I was ready to go. There was a knock on the door. Thinking it was Jennifer, who was always forgetting her keys, I opened it. It was Leo. He slipped past me before I could react. His eyes scanned the matching pajamas on the clothes rack, the two worn-out indentations on the old sofa. He saw the wall covered in our photos, and his eyes turned red with jealousy. He strode over and started tearing them down. “Don’t think she loves you, Asher,” he sneered, kicking over our laundry rack. “What woman would let the man she loves suffer? She made you play this game with her, but she saved up to buy me anything I wanted.” He kicked over our small folding table, his face a mask of triumph. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. “You knew she was faking it?” He looked at me like I was an idiot. “She’s been on the cover of Forbes, Asher. Everyone knows who she is.” His expression hardened. “Jennifer is mine. Don’t fight me for her, or I’ll make sure you lose everything.” I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in your trash.” I glanced at the wrecked apartment, feeling nothing but a desire to leave. I picked up my suitcase and headed down the stairs. Two steps down, I was shoved hard from behind. I stumbled, and the world became a blur of motion as I tumbled down the staircase. I looked up to see Leo at the top of the stairs, a cruel smile on his face. Then, his expression changed. He deliberately tripped and fell, landing next to me. Seconds later, Jennifer appeared. She gently helped Leo to his feet, checking him for injuries before her eyes finally fell on my bleeding forehead. Her expression softened, and she started to help me up. But then Leo started to cry. “Jennifer, I’m not a homewrecker. I don’t want to come between you and Asher.” At his words, she instantly dropped me and rushed to his side, cooing and comforting him. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with murderous rage. “Asher, what is your problem? Why do you keep bullying Leo? Do you really think I can’t do anything to you, or your family?” She helped Leo to his feet. “Leo, don’t listen to his jealous ramblings. Let’s go to the hospital.” Leo didn’t move. His voice was choked with tears. “Jennifer… Asher said you’re the queen bee of Manhattan. Is that true?” Jennifer flinched. She forced a calm she didn’t feel. “What? Of course not. Don’t listen to him.” “He also said I’m only with you for your money. That I’m not good enough for you, and that he’s the one who’s in your league.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry, Asher… Jennifer, I think… I think I’m really in love with you.” Jennifer’s whole body trembled. Her grip on his hand tightened. “Leo,” she whispered, “I love you too.” She glanced at me as if I were a roadblock to their happiness. “Asher is just paranoid. He’s just saying that to upset you.” Leo’s tear-filled eyes brightened. “Really?” “Have I ever lied to you?” After soothing him, she turned her icy gaze back to me, her jaw clenched. “Asher!” The veins in her neck bulged, her eyes were bloodshot. Her voice was a low growl. “There’s a limit to how jealous you can be!” She looked down at me on the floor, then helped Leo step over my body and walk away. I pushed myself up, my whole body aching, and dragged my injured leg out to the street to hail a cab to the hospital. In the emergency room, as a doctor cleaned the gash on my forehead, I saw a group of nurses whispering by the door. “That’s the queen bee’s fiancé. He must have pissed her off.” “She’s in the room across the hall with her new boy-toy, getting him a full check-up. She’s so worried about him.” “I bet the boy-toy is the future king of Manhattan.” They giggled and then flocked into the room across the hall. After my wound was stitched and dressed, I lay in a hospital bed, booked a one-way ticket to Paris for that night, and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, I sensed a presence. Jennifer was standing by my bed, her face dark. “Leo wants to break up with me,” she said, her voice tight. “Are you happy now?” Her fists were clenched, her eyes blazing. She grabbed my shirt and dragged me out of the bed. I hit the floor hard, the pain in my head exploding. “You’re going to go to Leo and tell him you made it all up. Tell him I’m not some rich girl, that you lied about everything.” Seeing her so frantic, I couldn’t help but laugh. She was being played just as much as I had been. My laughter seemed to push her over the edge. She started dragging me out of the room. “Jennifer, let go of me! I didn’t tell him any of that! He knew who you were from the beginning!” She stopped, her eyes like chips of ice. “Still trying to slander him, even now?” She dragged me to Leo’s bedside and threw me to the floor. I caught a glimpse of the smug, triumphant look in Leo’s eyes before he arranged his face into a mask of wounded innocence for Jennifer. She gently stroked his hair. “Asher,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, “tell me why you made up this story to trick Leo.” I just smiled, a sad, tired smile. My flight was in a few hours. I didn’t want any more drama. I looked at Leo. “You’re right. I made it all up. Jennifer is just a regular intern.” I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my lips. Seeing that Jennifer had calmed down, I said, “Can I go now?” She seemed to snap out of a trance, a flicker of something I couldn’t identify—panic?—in her eyes. I left the hospital and went straight to the airport. At the gate, my phone buzzed with messages from a new number. It was Jennifer. “Asher, where are you?” “I booked a suite at the Plaza. Let me make it up to you for your birthday.” “Leo is timid. He’d be scared if he knew who I really was. If you help me keep this secret, I’ll honor our engagement. We can get married next month, just like we planned.” I snapped my SIM card in half and boarded the plane.

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Gerston Croft, heir to a billion-dollar fortune, was exposed as an impostor. Now broke and disgraced, he was trying to end his life in a grimy basement. I clutched our old sugar daddy agreement, ready to tear it up and run—until a stream of text flashed before my eyes like a live chat: [Of course the side-chick’s a gold digger. Her leaving just makes way for the real heroine.] [After she leaves, she gets tortured to death by a sadistic new benefactor. If only she knew in six months the male lead will not only rebuild his empire but surpass the Crofts, becoming the youngest self-made billionaire. The irony would kill her again.] My hand shook; I tore the contract in two. I rushed into the bathroom. There he was, wrist bleeding. I grabbed his arm, sobbing without dignity. “Don’t die! Who’ll take care of me? I… I want to renew our contract!” His hollow eyes fell on the torn paper. “Really?” he whispered. 1 “You were only ever with me for the money,” he said, his voice flat. “And now you see the truth.” His eyes roamed the dank, grimy basement, a place of shadows and damp concrete. His lips, once a confident crimson, were now pale and bloodless. I pressed my hands against the cut on his wrist, but the blood still dripped, staining the floor a dark, ugly red. “I’ve been cast out by the Crofts. I’m hiding in this hellhole, a man who can’t even support himself, let alone you. So just go. I don’t blame you.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had been with Gerston Croft for eight years. To the world, he was a polished, gentle heir. Only I knew the truth: he was a viper in a cashmere coat, vengeful to the core. His words were casual, forgiving, but the hand he kept hidden behind his back was clenched so tight the knuckles were white. I didn’t know if I could trust the bizarre text feed in front of my eyes, but my gut screamed at me to trust my instinct for survival. I couldn’t leave. If I did, I wouldn’t have to wait for some future sadist to kill me. Gerston would do it himself, slowly and creatively. I lunged forward, pressing my lips against his. He responded instantly, kissing me back with a desperate hunger that left me breathless. When I finally pushed him away, gasping for air, I snatched the torn contract from the floor. As he watched in stunned silence, I ripped the pieces into tiny shreds. I cupped his face in my hands, my voice earnest. “Gerston, I don’t want to be your mistress anymore.” A flicker of cold, murderous intent crossed his eyes. The comments in my vision sneered. [Wow, thought for a second she’d had a change of heart. Turns out she’s just here to twist the knife. Just you wait. When her new life turns into a nightmare, she’ll come crawling back, and the male lead won’t even give her the time of day.] [As soon as she’s gone, the heroine will burst in and save him. And so begins his epic comeback story. Cue the epic music.] I ignored the filth, my voice soft but threaded with a tension I couldn’t hide. “I know this might not be the right time, but… for the first time, I feel like we’re equals. So, Gerston Croft… will you be my boyfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. Before he could answer, the world went black. The last thing I saw was a single line of text. [Too late to change your mind. Defy the script, and you’re the one who pays the price.] A surge of anger rose in me. Follow the script? The script wanted me dead. To hell with that. In the darkness, a fire seemed to lick at my consciousness, burning me from the inside out. I ran and ran until, finally, my eyes flew open. I shot upright in a hospital bed, drenched in a cold sweat. A sharp pain radiated from my core. A groan escaped my lips. A cool hand touched my forehead, and I saw Gerston leaning over me, his face etched with fear. “Luna? Are you okay?” The pain was a constant torment. In the eight years I’d been with him, he had spoiled me rotten, shielding me from any hint of harm. I’d grown soft. The pain was too much. I started to cry. “It hurts. It hurts so much.” He stood up, panicked, and ran to find a doctor. The doctor who came back shot me an annoyed look. “If you can’t pay for the tests, you need to be discharged. You’re taking up a bed. What do you want me to do? No money, no treatment.” Gerston’s voice was a low growl. “Give her the best of everything. I have…” His voice trailed off. His proud shoulders, always so straight, slumped in defeat. He couldn’t meet my eyes. The doctor sneered. “You should probably go. You’ve got nothing left to pawn.” That’s when I noticed the silver ring he always wore was gone from his finger. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled out of bed, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the door, babbling nonsense to comfort him. “Honestly, it doesn’t hurt as much when I’m with you. You’re my painkiller, Gerston. You can’t get rid of me now.” A single, hot tear splashed onto our joined hands. Gerston’s voice was raw when he answered. “Okay.” A small smile touched my lips. I wasn’t lying. 2 [The male lead chose to take the side character to the hospital, so he missed his first meeting with the heroine. The plot is already off the rails.] [The plot’s punishment seems weaker, too. She shouldn’t even be able to walk right now. If she’d defied the original script this much, she’d be in a world of unimaginable pain.] [Ngl, I’m kinda starting to ship them. The fallen tycoon and his loyal canary. You don’t see that every day.] I hid the glint in my eyes, piecing together a survival plan from the fragments of information. Defying the plot brought punishment, but if Gerston chose me, consistently and without hesitation, it could derail the script. The punishment would weaken… or maybe even disappear. It all hinged on his love. I turned to look at the man who was once the prince of the city, now trailing behind me, holding my hand as if I were made of glass. I smiled. “So, you’re my boyfriend now. That means you’re going to work hard and get us back to the lifestyle we’re used to, right?” “I will,” he said, his voice firm with promise. [Is it just me, or did the male lead just go from sugar daddy to the side character’s puppy?] [Just wait until he starts working. The world will humiliate him, and that’s when the heroine will swoop in to save him. Their bond will be forged in fire. That’s the main event.] [So they missed their first meeting. Big deal. They’re fated. Side-chick should start looking for her next meal ticket now.] I didn’t stop Gerston from looking for work. The pain was a constant, gnawing presence, and sleep was my only escape. He came home exhausted every day, the knees of his once-immaculate suits covered in dust. I knew from the comments that he’d gone to an old friend from his circle, a guy named Chad. Chad despised Gerston for being an impostor but couldn’t bear to lose his genius for business. So, he took his resentment out in petty, cruel ways. The proud man I knew was now kneeling to polish another man’s shoes. He was hauling fifty-pound water coolers up twenty-six flights of stairs, replacing them in every office. He was standing for three hours in the breakroom, making coffee for the entire company. Chad even made him clean the bathrooms. I’d smelled the faint, sharp scent of bleach on him more than once. But despite it all, the first thing I saw when he came home was his smile. He’d put down the groceries he’d bought and immediately wrap me in his arms. “Feeling any better today?” I’d blink myself awake and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Much better, now that you’re holding me.” “I’m hungry.” Gerston would head to the kitchen, a natural in front of the stove now. I’d prop my head on my hand and enjoy the meltdown in the comments. [This is the same man who would take three showers if he smelled cooking oil on him. Now he’s a damn short-order cook for this girl.] [All she has to do is give him one compliment and he’s over the moon. And her whole ‘you’re my painkiller’ act is so cringe, it gives me goosebumps.] I rolled over in bed. Oh, it gets better. After dinner, he would do my laundry, clean the apartment, and then give me a full-body massage. Only after I was asleep would he start on the work he’d brought home. As long as he was here, my smallest discomfort was a national emergency. Like right now. He was kneeling by the bed, still in his apron. “Was that uncomfortable? Do you need me to help you turn over?” I put on my sweetest voice. “I need my boyfriend to kiss me.” He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. His hands, the same ones that signed billion-dollar deals, were now gently massaging my temples. The gnawing pain inside me subsided, and I closed my eyes, content. “A little lower. My shoulders.” A shrill ringtone cut through the quiet. Gerston paused before answering the phone. His brow furrowed. “There’s a problem at work, Luna,” he said, his voice full of apology. “I have to go out. Just finish dinner and leave the dishes. I’ll do them when I get back.” I watched him go. The comments exploded. [Chad’s been waiting for this. It’s not about work; it’s a setup. He’s going to break Gerston’s pride, assault him… but the heroine is on her way to save him! YES! My ship is about to sail!] [After tonight, the side-chick is officially out of the picture. Can’t wait to see the back of her whiny, manipulative ass.] 3 A jolt of adrenaline shot through me. I forced myself out of bed, ignoring the screaming pain, and chased after Gerston, determined to intercept his and the heroine’s fated night. Following the directions from the comments, I found the nightclub and slipped past the bouncer. The pounding music amplified my pain, but I pushed through the crowd toward the chaotic center of the dance floor. And then I saw him. Gerston, on the ground, being stomped on. Chad was grinding his heel into Gerston’s face, pinning him to the floor. The ground was littered with broken glass, the shards digging into Gerston’s skin. Blood and spilled liquor mixed into a sickeningly sweet miasma that made my stomach churn. “Still think you’re a prince?” Chad sneered. “You’re a fake. A nobody. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be begging on the streets right now.” “All I asked was for you to strip for us. You were willing to kneel and polish my shoes. Why the sudden high horse?” Chad’s face was twisted into a lecherous grin. He was known for being into both men and women, and tonight, he’d set his sights on Gerston. “You look tired. Just play nice, let me have some fun, and I can give you all the money and power you want.” Gerston’s chest heaved. He stared up at Chad with pure hatred. “Spit.” He spat a mouthful of blood onto Chad’s face, earning him a vicious volley of kicks. Chad furiously wiped his face. “Break his arms and legs!” he roared. “Strip him naked and hang him from the ceiling! Let’s see how long he lasts without food or water!” A bodyguard lifted a bar stool high and brought it crashing down. Gerston grunted, swallowing the scream that rose in his throat. My vision went red. Forgetting everything about the plot, about my own safety, I grabbed a fruit knife from a nearby table and charged into the circle, swinging it wildly. “Let us go!” I shrieked, my voice trembling. “Or none of us are walking out of here alive!” My crazed state made Chad take a step back. Then, a slow, dawning smile spread across his face. “Well, well. If it isn’t Gerston’s little canary, Luna. I’m surprised you’re still with him now that he’s broke. A loyal little whore, aren’t you?” His eyes raked over me. “I’ve had men, I’ve had women, but I’ve never had a matching set. This should be fun.” “Come be my girl. I’ll give you a lot more than he ever could.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Gerston, lying broken on the floor, exploded with a primal rage. He snatched the knife from my hand and lunged, plunging it deep into Chad’s eye socket. “You don’t touch her!” But he was outnumbered. Bodyguards swarmed him, pinning him down, their fists and feet raining blows on him. Chad writhed on the floor, screaming. “Get a doctor! Someone get me a doctor! And skin that bastard alive! I want him to beg for death!” I tried to shield Gerston with my own body but was kicked away, sent flying into a table. I coughed, a spray of blood leaving my lips. The fists continued to pound into Gerston, but it was as if he couldn’t feel it. His eyes were locked on me, on the blood on my lips. He struggled violently against his attackers. His eyes were blazing red. Run, he mouthed. [I knew this part was coming, but it’s still hard to watch. This incident leaves a permanent scar on him. Only the heroine’s love can heal him.] [This is Chad, the same guy who tortures Luna to death in the original plot. I wish I could jump through the screen and kill him myself.] That comment hit me like a physical blow. Rage and a desperate will to live flooded my senses. Why should I die at the hands of scum like this? Why should he get to destroy Gerston? I grabbed a jagged piece of broken glass from the floor and scrambled toward the now-unprotected Chad. As he roared in fury, I drove the shard deep into his neck. A hot spray of blood showered over me. Suddenly, a sharp, feminine voice cut through the chaos. “Stop! If anyone lays another hand on Gerston Croft, I will make them pay.” The world exploded in a flash of light. The comments went wild. [They’ve met! The male lead and the heroine have finally met! The plot is back on track!] An all-consuming pain washed over me, stealing the last of my strength. As my body went limp, I forced my head to turn, to look at Gerston one last time. And I saw it. A flicker of pure, unadulterated awe in his eyes as he looked at his savior.

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My CEO wife threw a welcome-home party for her one true love. While I was gone, he tried to take my drunk wife to a hotel room. But I cut him off first. That night, through a mix of sweet-talking and sheer persistence, I ended up sleeping with the wife who’d been saving herself for him. The next morning, she was furious, shoving divorce papers in my face. “Cole, just pretend last night never happened.” “If you don’t sign these, I’ll make you regret it.” I glanced at the settlement: a cool fifty million dollars. I signed my name so fast the pen smoked. Are you kidding me? I’m just a guy who got transmigrated into this novel. Let someone else play the part of the tragic, pining husband. I got the girl, I got the money. Time to disappear. 1 I’ve been transmigrated. And I’ve landed on the exact day my CEO wife, Stella, is throwing a lavish welcome-home party for the man she actually loves. I checked the time. This was bad. If I was a minute later, they’d be in a hotel room, and I’m not the kind of guy who gets cheated on. I grabbed my jacket and rushed out, bringing a couple of my bodyguards just in case. Following the script of the novel, I drove straight to the hotel. As soon as I walked into the lobby, I saw her. Stella was passed out on one of the plush sofas, completely oblivious. Just then, the male lead—the one and only Leo—walked over from the front desk, a key card in his hand. “Stella, you’re drunk. Let’s get you up to a room to rest…” He reached down to pick her up. My face was a thundercloud as I shoved him back. “Who the hell are you, trying to take my wife to a hotel room?” The sudden push sent Leo stumbling. He steadied himself, a flash of shock in his eyes that quickly turned to anger. “You must be Cole,” he sneered. “If I hadn’t gone abroad, do you really think Stella would have married you? You’re just my replacement.” A smug, condescending smirk spread across his face. “Oh, and by the way, Stella told me everything. Three years of marriage, and she’s kept herself pure for me. It must be pathetic, being her husband.” I didn’t have time for his trash talk. I gestured for my bodyguards to get Stella into the car. “What do you think you’re doing? Put her down!” Leo shouted, lunging forward to stop them. I stepped in his way, my eyes like ice. “Leo, I’ll say this one last time: Stella is my wife. If you keep this up, I have no problem plastering your face all over the internet. The world can see the ‘brilliant young talent’ fresh from overseas is just a homewrecker in a hurry.” I leaned in closer. “Think about it. Can you really handle the wrath of both the Sullivan and the Croft families?” My words hit him like a slap. Leo was just an illegitimate son of the Croft family. Stella’s grandfather, the Sullivan family patriarch, had never approved of him, which was why he’d been shipped abroad in the first place. If he forced this and I made it public, the old man’s fury would be apocalyptic. It was a fire Leo couldn’t afford to play with. He saw the cold resolve in my eyes and knew I wasn’t bluffing. He stood frozen, his face a mask of impotent rage, and could only watch as my men carried Stella away. As I left, I shot him a final, triumphant smirk. It nearly made his head explode. In the back of the car, with Stella’s soft form nestled against me and the faint, sweet scent of her perfume in the air, my heart began to race. She really was stunning. Her body was soft and pliant, her skin like porcelain, her curves impossibly perfect. More breathtaking than any celebrity. And that bastard Leo almost had her. 2 Back home, after a quick shower, I slid into bed next to Stella. In the original novel, the two of them always slept in separate rooms. Leaving a wife with a body like this to sleep alone? The original Cole was an absolute fool. I silently cursed his name a hundred times. With zero guilt, I wrapped my arm around her slender waist. The moment my hand started to wander, her small, soft hand clamped down on mine. A blush crept up her cheeks. “Don’t,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. “I’m not… divorced yet…” Her eyes fluttered open. When she saw it was me, the haze of sleep vanished, replaced by a glacial cold. “What are you doing here?” I froze my hand but didn’t remove it, my tone lazy. “I’m your husband. Who else would it be? Were you hoping for someone else?” That shut her up. A second later, she started struggling, trying to push me away. But she was weak from the alcohol, her efforts futile. All she could do was glare at me. “Cole, let go of me! Who said you could sleep in my bed? Get out!” I chuckled and pulled her closer. “We’re married. Isn’t sharing a bed what couples do?” “You’re shameless!” she seethed, her chest heaving. She looked like she wanted to bite me. I sighed dramatically in her ear, my voice laced with sorrow. “Stella, you’re the one who wants the divorce, right? For three years, I’ve served you without a single complaint.” “I made you breakfast every morning.” “Last year, when you were sick in the hospital for a week, I stayed by your side for seven days and seven nights, barely sleeping a wink.” “Every time you came home drunk from a business dinner, who was it that made you soup to sober you up?” “You said you wanted to stay faithful to your first love, and have I ever touched a single hair on your head in three years?” As I spoke, I worked up a tear in my eye. “All these years, I’ve taken care of you, given you everything. Even if there was no love, there was effort. All I’m asking for is one night, just holding you. Is that too much?” Her tense body gradually softened. A rare flicker of guilt crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated financially.” I pretended to make a great, painful decision. “Just promise me this one night,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let me just hold you. And tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll sign the divorce papers.” She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had brought up divorce dozens of times, and I had always refused, adamant. She never pushed too hard, afraid her grandfather would find out. Now, here I was, offering it up myself. She couldn’t believe it was real. “You’ll really sign?” 3 My eyes filled with a deep, heartbreaking reluctance. My voice was heavy with unspoken sadness. “Stella, everyone says I’m your doormat. They all know that you mean more to me than my own life. And it’s because I love you that I’m choosing to let you go. I want you to be happy…” Her heart melted. Images of the past three years flashed through her mind—countless moments of me taking care of her, quietly, steadfastly. The guilt intensified. But she still looked at me, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Just holding me? That’s it?” With a shattered expression, I nodded fiercely and raised my right hand. “I swear.” She watched me, her big, beautiful eyes searching my face. All she saw was sincerity. “You’d better behave, Cole.” After a few more minutes of my soft, pleading words, she finally let her guard down completely. Heh. Once a woman’s heart softens, it’s game over. The night was deep, the room was quiet. Two bodies, pressed close together. As the minutes ticked by, I could feel the heat rising from her skin, her breathing growing shallow and quick. She’d already had a lot to drink, and the proximity was doing the rest. One thing led to another. And what should and shouldn’t happen… happened. It was a wild night that didn’t end until the sun began to rise. I was woken up by a phone ringing. Not mine. Stella’s. She must have been exhausted. It was her first time, after all, and she was sleeping like the dead. I glanced at the caller ID. Leo. My annoyance spiked. I just turned her phone off. I was getting out of the shower when the doorbell rang, its timing impeccable. I opened the door, a towel wrapped around my waist, and found Leo standing on the doorstep, his face dark as a storm cloud. I couldn’t help but smile. “Mr. Croft. To what do I owe the pleasure this early in the morning?” 4 His eyes immediately locked onto the fresh scratch marks covering my chest and shoulders. “You slept together,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Heh. We’re a legally married couple. Is that a problem? But I played dumb. “No, of course not. You’re imagining things. Stella has been saving herself for you. She would never… you’ve misunderstood.” The money wasn’t in my account yet. I couldn’t admit anything. If I pissed Stella off now, she might back out of the settlement, and I’d be left with nothing. Leo’s eyes bored into me, his face turning a sickly shade of green. “Misunderstood? Do you think I’m blind, Cole? What about those scratches?” I feigned a frown. “My cat,” I said, my voice laced with impatience. “Is that a problem? And by what right are you questioning me, Mr. Croft? In case you’ve forgotten, until these papers are finalized, I am Stella’s husband.” His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to control his rage. “Move. I want to see Stella.” I blocked the doorway, a playful smirk on my face. “She had a lot to drink last night. She’s still sleeping. If you try to force your way in here, and the old man finds out… I imagine he’ll be paying your family a visit to have a little chat about manners.” Just as I expected, the mention of Stella’s grandfather deflated him instantly. He shot me one last venomous glare, knowing he was beaten. “You just wait,” he spat, before turning and storming off. When I got back to the bedroom, Stella was already awake. Her eyes were burning with fury. My heart skipped a beat. I immediately switched into character, my face a mask of pitiful longing. “Stella, you’re awake? Stella, I can’t live without you. Can we not get a divorce? Please? What would I do without you?” She was livid. Last night, I had promised to just hold her, and instead, I had… well. And now I was backing out of the deal? Did I think she was a pushover? 5 But then her eyes met my pleading, mournful gaze, and her resolve wavered. Her voice, when she spoke, was softer than I expected. “Cole, I kept my end of the bargain. Don’t try to pull anything.” She slapped a document on the bedside table. A divorce agreement. “If you don’t sign this, I will make your life a living hell.” My eyes went wide as I scanned the asset division clause. Fifty. Million. Dollars. Before I was transmigrated, I was just a corporate drone, crushed by the daily grind. The original Cole’s family had a business, sure, but it was nothing compared to the Sullivan empire. Besides, he had an older brother. He was never the heir. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have spent three years of his marriage as a house husband. This wasn’t a divorce agreement. It was a winning lottery ticket. Seeing me hesitate, Stella’s face darkened. She thought I was going to renege on the deal. “Cole, do not test my patience…” Before she could finish, I had scrawled my signature and handed it back. “When does the money hit my account?” Stella was clearly taken aback, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re really agreeing to this?” Heh. What’s that supposed to mean? I signed it. Is she going to back out now? But this was the critical moment. I couldn’t look too eager. I grabbed her soft hand, my face the picture of heartbreak. “Stella, you know I can’t live without you. But… I respect your choice.” She snatched her hand back, a visible wave of relief washing over her. She turned and made a call to her assistant. A few moments later, my phone pinged with a bank notification. I stared at the long line of zeros and almost burst out laughing. Overcome with joy, I pulled her in and kissed her on the cheek. The memory of last night must have resurfaced, because her face flushed with anger and she shoved me away. “Get out!” she screamed. “I don’t want to see you ever again!” Faced with her murderous glare, I didn’t need to be told twice. I beat a hasty retreat. After I left, Stella sat on the sofa in a daze. The events of the past twenty-four hours were still a blur. Suddenly, she realized that something about me had changed. The old Cole would never have been so bold, so shameless. He would never have done… any of that. She had thought signing the papers would make her happy, ecstatic even. But now, all she felt was a strange, hollow emptiness in her chest, as if she had lost something vital.

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I’d been grinding for a full month to make my position permanent. The last all-nighter was finally over. I stared at the proposal on my screen—flawless, perfect—and let out a breath I’d been holding for weeks. The caffeine that had been thundering through my veins finally gave way to exhaustion. I slumped forward, resting my head on my arms, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep right there at my desk. I woke to a sharp, piercing shriek. My head snapped up. The scene in front of me sent a jolt of ice through my veins, freezing the blood in my heart. Mark—my boyfriend of three years, my mentor at the firm—had a line of glowing, translucent text hovering above his head: 【THE DEVOTED HERO: Logic Optional. Utterly Whipped.】 And next to him, Ava, the new intern, had her own label: 【THE CHOSEN ONE: The Saintly Martyr. Weaponizes Tears.】 1 Before I could even begin to process the sheer absurdity of it all, it happened. Splash— Ava, holding a steaming cup of black coffee, stumbled. Her hand slipped with a theatrical “oops,” and the entire contents of the cup cascaded directly into the cooling vents of my laptop. A wisp of blue smoke curled into the air. The acrid smell of burning electronics, mixed with the cheap, bitter scent of office coffee, assaulted my nostrils. My screen flickered twice, then went completely black. A month of my life’s work, my entire future at this company, was trapped inside that dead machine. The office fell deathly silent. Tears were already streaming down Ava’s cherubic, innocent face. “Oh my god, Nora, I’m so, so sorry… I… I really didn’t mean to…” She bit her lip, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, but her gaze darted past me, landing helplessly on Mark. It was the look of a startled fawn, a direct hit to the glowing tag above his head: 【The Devoted Hero】. Mark’s protective instincts flared so intensely you could almost feel the heat from them. He rushed over, but his anger was aimed at Ava. “Ava, how could you be so careless?” he snapped. A sliver of relief went through me. For a second. Then he whipped around to face me. His handsome features, the face I knew better than my own, were twisted with blame and impatience. “Nora! It was an accident. Don’t give her a hard time about it!” A buzzing filled my ears. Give her a hard time? I hadn’t even opened my mouth. “What’s the point of blaming her now?” he continued, his brow furrowed with a frustration aimed squarely at me. “The presentation is this afternoon! What about the proposal? Your entire month’s work was on there, and now it’s gone!” I looked at him, then at Ava, who was sobbing as if she were the one who had just lost everything. The whole scene was so ridiculous, it was almost funny. One month. Thirty days. I had survived on four hours of sleep a night, chugging coffee like water, to single-handedly tackle the bid for “Project Tempest,” a project so notoriously difficult no one else dared to touch it. And Mark. My mentor. My boyfriend. He’d paid lip service to how worried he was about me, how much he admired my work ethic. But now, in the moment I needed his support the most, he was tearing me down to protect an intern who’d been here for three days—an intern who had just destroyed everything. Ava was still sniffling beside him, delivering the final, perfectly timed blow. “Nora… I can pay for the laptop… but the proposal… it’s all my fault. Maybe… maybe I should just…” She trailed off, but her meaning was crystal clear. She’d replace the computer. But the loss of the work? That was on me. After all, I was the one who hadn’t protected my own data. Coworkers had started to gather, murmuring and pointing at the disaster. “Well, she’s screwed. The client briefing is at two.” “Seriously, Nora. For something that important, you’d think she would’ve made a backup.” The looks they gave me were a mixture of pity and, worse, a smug, schadenfreude-fueled excitement. Just as the weight of it all was about to suffocate me, a thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. The cloud. Late last night, as a final precaution, I had uploaded a compressed file of the final version to my personal cloud drive. The will to survive instantly overrode the heartbreak and the humiliation. I lifted my chin and met Mark’s disappointed gaze. My heart felt like a block of ice. He was still lecturing me. “Nora, are you going to say something? Are you mute? This isn’t the time for a tantrum!” I stared at the glowing words above his head and felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. 【The Devoted Hero】. Fine. Just fine. Let’s see just how stupid love can make you. 2 “I’m going to the restroom.” I dropped the sentence into the suffocating silence and, without another glance at them, grabbed my phone and walked out of the office. Behind me, I heard Mark let out an annoyed “Tsk.” He must have thought I was storming off in a huff. “See? That’s the attitude I’m talking about. Forget it, Ava, stop crying. I’ll figure something out.” My fingers tightened around my phone, nails digging into my palm. The sharp pain was the only thing keeping me grounded, keeping me sane. I ducked into the cold, empty stairwell, leaning against the concrete wall as my trembling fingers navigated to my cloud drive app. There it was. A single file named “Project Tempest – Final Draft.” The download progress bar crawled across the screen, each percentage point feeling like an eternity. Just then, through the wall, I heard hushed voices from the breakroom. It was Ava, her voice thick with a put-upon sob. “…I really didn’t mean it. I don’t know why Nora reacted like that, like… like I was trying to sabotage her or something.” “Mark, am I just too clumsy? Did I make things worse for you again?” A few of the office gossips chimed in with their support. “Oh, honey, don’t worry about it. Everyone makes mistakes when they’re new.” “Exactly. Nora is totally overreacting. She’s always been so full of herself, walking around like she owns the place just because she’s dating the creative director. The slightest little thing sets her off.” “Right? I asked her to grab me a coffee last week and you would’ve thought I’d asked for her firstborn. What’s her deal?” My heart sank. I held my breath. And then, I heard Mark’s voice. It was a sigh, laced with a kind of weary indulgence I had never heard before. “She’s just like that. I’ve spoiled her, I guess. You’ll have to forgive her.” “She’s been under a lot of pressure with this project. When she gets stressed, she loses control.” “Ava, don’t take it personally. On her behalf, I apologize.” Boom. The last thread holding me together snapped. Spoiled? High-strung and out of control? So that’s who I was to him. In his words, I was just some irrational, shrewish girlfriend. Our three years together, in the eyes of our colleagues, were nothing more than leverage I used to get ahead. And Ava—the person who ruined my work, the cause of all this—was “Ava,” the one who needed his protection, his personal apology. How intimate. It struck me then that Mark hadn’t called me by my nickname in a long, long time. More often than not, it was just a flat, perfunctory “Nora.” My phone screen lit up. Download Complete. I took a deep, shuddering breath, wiped away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen, and composed my face into a mask of calm. Then, I pushed open the door to the breakroom. The conversation stopped cold. The atmosphere crackled with awkwardness. Ava’s eyes were still red-rimmed. When she saw me, she instinctively shrank behind Mark, a practiced movement she seemed to have perfected. I ignored them, walking straight to the water cooler to fill a glass. Then I turned around and held up my phone for Ava to see. The screen displayed a freshly started audio recording. “Ava, you said you’d pay for my laptop, correct?” I asked, my voice as placid as if I were discussing the weather. Ava froze, then nodded jerkily. “Y-yes! Of course, Nora! I’ll definitely pay for it!” “Good,” I said, the smile on my face widening. “It was the latest top-spec MacBook Pro. The price on the Apple store website is two thousand, three hundred and ninety-nine dollars.” “Will you be wiring the money, or paying in cash?” “Oh, and by the way,” I added sweetly, “just to avoid any future confusion, I’ve recorded our little agreement.” The color drained from Ava’s face. The other people in the room stared, their expressions shifting. “Twenty-four hundred bucks? You’ve got to be kidding.” “She’s an intern. She makes, what, three thousand a month? How is she supposed to pay that?” Just moments ago, she’d been so eager to take responsibility. Now that the bill had come due, her saintly mask was cracking. Her lips trembled, unable to form a single word. “Nora! Have you lost your mind?” Mark finally snapped, grabbing my wrist. “It’s just a laptop! Do you have to be so aggressive?” he hissed. “She’s just starting out! Where is she going to get that kind of money?” I yanked my arm from his grasp, my eyes cold as I stared at his face, now a mask of righteous indignation. “Mark, that was my laptop. I paid for it with my money.” “She broke it. She pays for it. It’s that simple.” “So how, exactly, does that make me the aggressor here?” “Are you trying to be reasonable, or are you just trying to guilt-trip me with our three-year history?” My voice was quiet, but each word landed like a stone. Mark was speechless. He clearly never expected me, the woman who had always deferred to him, to suddenly have such a sharp tongue. “Nora, you—” “I what?” I cut him off, my gaze shifting from him to Ava’s pale, stricken face. “If you can’t pay it all at once, that’s fine,” I said, pressing my advantage. “You can write me an IOU. I’ll even let you pay in installments.” “I’ll give you the lowest possible interest rate. How does that sound?” I didn’t give her an inch of breathing room. Fresh tears welled in Ava’s eyes. This time, they were real tears of panic. She looked to Mark, pleading for rescue. He took a deep breath and squeezed the words out through clenched teeth. “Fine. I’ll pay for it.” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Such a gentleman, Director Evans. I’m just curious, in what capacity are you paying? As her boyfriend? Or… as her backup plan?” “Nora!” he roared. I was done with him. Holding my phone and my glass of water, I turned and walked toward the communal hot-desking area. Log in. Plug in the USB drive I kept in my purse. Open the file. It was all seamless. Behind me, I could hear Mark’s furious cursing and Ava’s pathetic sobs. I put on my headphones and turned the volume all the way up. The world was finally quiet. My counterattack had just begun. 3 At two o’clock sharp, the final bidding presentation for Project Tempest began. When I walked calmly to the conference room door, USB drive in hand, the expressions on Mark and Ava’s faces were priceless. They looked like they’d seen a ghost. “Nora? You…” Mark hurried over, his face a complicated mess of feigned concern. “Where did you get the proposal? Did you pull another all-nighter to redo it?” “Let me see it,” he demanded, his voice softening into his familiar mentor tone. “I need to check for any mistakes. We can’t afford any slip-ups in a meeting this important.” He reached for my USB drive, his manner so natural it was as if the morning’s horror show had never happened. As if he were still my caring boyfriend and supportive boss. I pivoted my wrist, smoothly evading his touch. “Don’t trouble yourself, Director Evans,” I said coldly. “I can handle it.” The title, “Director Evans,” landed like a slap, drawing a formal line between us that hadn’t existed an hour ago. Mark’s hand froze in mid-air. His face darkened. The room was filled with the company’s top brass—our CEO, Mr. Sterling, department heads, and senior executives from the client’s side. This wasn’t the place for a scene. He lowered his voice, his words laced with a threat. “Nora, don’t be childish. The success of this entire project is on the line.” I didn’t even bother to look at him again. I walked straight to the podium. The presentation began. I inserted the drive. On the massive projector screen, the meticulously designed slides appeared one by one. The animations were dynamic, the logic was airtight, and the visual impact was stunning. I saw Mr. Sterling, seated at the head of the table, nodding repeatedly, a look of distinct approval in his eyes. I could feel two pairs of eyes burning into my back: Mark’s and Ava’s. I was halfway through, just getting to the core creative concept. As I was about to click to the next slide, Ava suddenly shot up from her seat. Her voice trembled, the tears arriving right on cue. “I’m sorry… Mr. Sterling, everyone… I… I have to tell the truth.” She took a ragged breath as if steeling herself for a great sacrifice, then pointed a shaking finger at me. “The core concept of this proposal… the ‘Immersive Interactive Experience’… that was my idea!” “Nora knew I was new, just an intern… easy to push around… so she… she took my idea and put it in her proposal as her own!”

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The house was silent, deep in the clutches of the night. I’d just found the perfect story to unwind with—The Roommate Deal—and settled in for a delicious read. It was one of those steamy, forbidden romance tropes, but the more I scrolled, the more a strange unease began to curdle in my stomach. The male lead… the way he was described… Why did he sound so much like my boyfriend? 1 Six-foot-one, with thin lips. A university lecturer who stayed on at his alma mater after graduation. Allergic to nuts. A small, crimson birthmark just below his left collarbone… Could the world really serve up a coincidence that specific? My throat tightened. I kept scrolling. 【…He pressed me against the living room’s floor-to-ceiling window, his fingers deftly unhooking my bra. The city lights blazed outside, blurring the figures of people walking on the street below, but the thrill of being caught, the sheer risk of it, only seemed to fuel his fire.】 What followed was a long, explicit passage that made my heart skip a beat. Ethan’s new condo, the one he was so proud of, had a massive floor-to-ceiling window just like that. He’d taken me to see it a few months ago, when it was still being renovated. The room was empty then, a hollow shell, but that window dominated everything. The sunset bled across the river, the colors pooling in his smiling eyes. Ethan had wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice a soft murmur against my ear. “I know how much you love a good view,” he’d said. “When you finish your master’s and move in, we can sit right here and watch the city lights every night.” I frowned, the screen of my phone feeling cold in my hands. Could the man in this story really be Ethan? I scanned the text more carefully, but as I did, a sense of absurd dissonance began to wash away my initial shock. The male lead in the story was wild, almost feral, his words laced with a crude, demanding heat. My Ethan was gentle, thoughtful, with a streak of old-fashioned chivalry that was almost bashful. He was the kind of man who’d make a teasing joke and then blush before I did. How could a man like that be the same one pinning a woman against a window in plain sight, without a shred of restraint? Besides, Ethan was something of a minor celebrity on campus. A handsome young lecturer was bound to attract admirers. It wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility that someone had used him as the muse for their fictional fantasies. And my two best friends, the only two people I trusted with the intimate details of my life? One was studying abroad in Germany, and the other had graduated and was happily dating a woman. I trusted them implicitly. I let out a long breath, the tight knot in my chest loosening just a little. Maybe I was just overthinking this. 2 Even though my gut told me it was impossible, I couldn’t stop myself. I read the rest of the story, devouring every chapter. The plot was simple enough. The heroine, a college student, moves out of her dorm after a fight with her roommate. She finds a great new place, only to discover after moving in that her landlord—and new roommate—is a man. Not just any man. Her best friend’s boyfriend. They make a pact to keep it a secret from the friend, and for a while, they live together in platonic harmony. But the forced proximity of two single people in one apartment inevitably sparks something. One night, after the boyfriend and his girlfriend (the heroine’s best friend) have a fight, the heroine tries to comfort him. They drink a little too much wine, and the long-suppressed tension finally ignites… The heroine discovers that beneath his polished, gentle exterior lies a completely different man, one he only reveals to her. From there, the story descended into a torrent of explicit scenes. My thumb mindlessly swiped down, landing on the comment section at the bottom of the page. A reader had posted: “OMG, this feels so real! Is the male lead based on a real person? Dying for the next update!” The author had replied just two minutes ago. “The muse… 😉 Let’s just say he’s right here beside me. He just put me through my paces again, and I’m exhausted ~ We’re going to bed. New chapter tomorrow! Good night!” I stared at that reply for a long, long time. Logic told me it was a coincidence. That I was letting my imagination run wild. But my finger was already opening my message thread with Ethan. I typed: Are you asleep? The thirty seconds I waited for a response stretched into an eternity. The night outside my window was thick and dark, the only sound the frantic thumping of my own heart. Then, my screen lit up. 3 Ethan: Just finishing up some work. About to head to bed. Why are you still up? You know late nights are bad for you. His reply was as prompt and caring as always. On any other night, my heart would have fluttered. I would have told him to get some rest, too. But tonight, that swift response felt like a slap in the face. I bit down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood. An impulse, sharp and undeniable, seized me. I had to see for myself. Words could lie. A scene could not. My fingers moved faster than my thoughts, already opening the ride-share app. Destination. Request. Confirm. The motions were mechanical, swift. After a long moment, I picked up my phone again and sent Ethan a new message. Suddenly really miss you. I don’t have class tomorrow. I’m coming over now, okay? The second the message delivered, his call came through. I watched his name flash on the screen—Ethan—and immediately declined it. A new text from him appeared instantly. Ethan: It’s almost one in the morning. I don’t want you coming over by yourself this late. Ethan: Be good. How about I come pick you up first thing in the morning? I replied: No. I want to see you now. I’m already in the car. After sending it, I took two steps forward. The motion-activated light in the hallway flickered on, illuminating my pale, drawn face. I was already standing right outside Ethan’s front door. 4 I didn’t knock right away. If that one-in-a-million chance was real, what would barging in accomplish, other than tipping them off? I turned and slipped into the fire-stairwell at the end of the hall. The angle gave me a perfect, unobstructed view of Ethan’s apartment door. A minute later, the door creaked open, just a crack. It didn’t swing wide, as if the person inside was cautiously checking the coast was clear. A man’s voice, hushed and urgent, drifted out. “Hurry up.” Then, a girl stepped out. Her face was flushed, glowing with a sated, rosy warmth. She let out a coquettish little hum. “Do I really have to go? Can’t I stay a little longer? She said she was still in the car, didn’t she?” Ethan’s voice was unnaturally hard, a tone I had never heard before, stripped of all the warmth I knew. “Go home. Now. Don’t make me say it again.” His next words were clipped, severe. “She could be here any minute, and she absolutely cannot see you. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back.” The girl seemed taken aback by his coldness, her lips forming a wounded pout. “…You’re that scared of her?” “Maya, you know perfectly well what she means to me.” “And you’re not scared I won’t come back?” Ethan’s reply was certain, absolute. “You will.” The story had mentioned that the male lead had stopped charging the heroine rent months ago. But my mind wasn’t processing that detail right now. Because I recognized the girl. Maya—my sister. Or, the sister I refuse to acknowledge. The living, breathing product of my father’s affair. 5 Ethan and I had only been officially dating for six months. But we had known each other for over twenty years. We weren’t exactly childhood sweethearts in the traditional sense. Our families had been neighbors, living in the old faculty housing complex by the university. In the hazy memories of my childhood, he was always the quiet boy trailing a step behind me, the one who’d share his candy and chase away the stray dogs that scared me. My mom used to laugh and ruffle his hair, calling him my little guardian. My world was small then, contained within the courtyard of that complex. I thought life would go on like that forever. Until Maya and her mother showed up. I will never forget the blood-drained, ashen look on my mother’s face. My happy, carefree childhood, it turned out, had been hollowed out by a silent infestation. Maya was only a year younger than me. Which meant that while my mother was pregnant with me, filled with joyous anticipation for her new baby, my father was in another woman’s arms, creating another “surprise.” The arguments, the crying, the sound of things shattering, the prying eyes of our neighbors… that entire period of my life is a dark, painful blur. My mother was a proud woman. She couldn’t stomach that kind of betrayal, especially not when the other woman showed up on our doorstep with a child in tow, demanding that my mother step aside. In the end, she chose divorce. It was drizzling the day we left. I remember pressing my face against the car’s rear window, looking back. I saw Ethan run out from the entrance of the complex. He was holding something, trying to give it to me. But his small figure quickly vanished into the rain-swept gray. That frantic escape didn’t just take my family; it severed all my connections to my childhood, to Ethan. My mother took me far away, to a new city, a new school. Maya, and everything associated with her, became a wound I never spoke of, a mark of shame carved deep into my bones. The next time I saw Ethan was in high school. 6 He was on stage, giving a speech as the student body president. He stood tall and confident in the auditorium’s spotlight. I sat in the audience, not daring to believe it was him. But when the assembly was over, he found me in the swarming crowd and called out my name without a moment’s hesitation. It felt like fate had circled back on itself. The trauma of my childhood had changed me, twisting my personality. I was brittle, insecure, and sharp-edged. Ethan saw all of it. He witnessed all my jagged edges, my moments of weakness, my defensive pride, and he still chose to hold me. Year after year. From high school through college graduation. Finally, I let my walls down. I allowed myself to believe that he truly understood me, that he truly loved me. But I never, ever imagined that the person he would cheat on me with would be Maya. He knew. Better than anyone, he knew how much I despised her. Why? When he held her in his arms, did he ever, for even a second, think of the helpless little girl I used to be? Of the tears I’d cried? This wasn’t just cheating. This was a slow, deliberate execution. Ethan had taken the most painful part of my past and used it as a knife, slicing away at my trust, piece by agonizing piece. The hallway light timed out, plunging me back into darkness. I leaned against the cold wall, listening to the soft click of his apartment door locking. The world was utterly silent, but inside me, the fortress I had built from love and trust was crumbling into dust. 7 My phone screen glowed in the dark. Ethan: Where are you? Want me to come get you? With a trembling hand, I forced myself to type a reply. Suddenly not feeling well. Really dizzy, think I caught a chill. I’m not coming over anymore. I’ll just go back to my dorm and rest. His response was immediate. Not well? Is it serious? Where are you right now? Still in the car or back at campus? Don’t move. Tell me where you are. I’m coming to find you right now. Wait for me! His panic was so palpable it practically vibrated through the screen. I didn’t reply. Less than two minutes later, his apartment door was thrown open again. Ethan was a mess. He’d thrown on a T-shirt, the collar askew. His face was a mask of genuine, unfeigned worry. He was fumbling with his phone in one hand while trying to pull on a jacket with the other, his movements clumsy with haste. Looking at him, so completely undone, I wanted to laugh. But all I felt was a profound, hollowing sadness. Just as the elevator doors were about to open for him, I stepped out from the end of the hallway. The stark, white glare of the motion-activated light enveloped us both. My voice was quiet, but in the echoing silence of the corridor, it was enough to make his entire body go rigid.

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Alex and I had a rental-unit kind of love. The kind built in a space that was never truly ours, filled with furniture we promised we’d replace one day. Lately, that space had felt emptier than usual. He was a ghost, leaving before sunrise and returning long after I’d fallen asleep. Tonight, when he finally walked in, reeking of the city and exhaustion, something in me snapped. I slapped him. The sound was sharp and ugly in our small living room. And then the text appeared, floating in my vision like a cruel, omniscient narrator’s notes. 【The hero was just about to pull the engagement ring from his pocket. The side character just slapped it right back in.】 【If only she had shown him an ounce more understanding, the fortune he’s about to build wouldn’t have fallen into the heroine’s lap.】 【One slap. It shattered the last of his pride. This is where they go their separate ways…】 I closed my eyes, the words burning behind my lids. Then I opened them and slapped him again, on the other cheek. “What’s in your pocket?” 1. Alex lifted his head, his lips pressed into a thin, white line. His skin was naturally pale, and against it, the two red imprints of my hands stood out like graffiti. Stark. Shocking. I flexed my stinging fingers. “I asked you what’s in your pocket,” I repeated, my voice steadier than I felt. 【LMAO, does she really think he’s still going to propose after this?】 【Don’t worry, our girl is on her way to comfort him.】 【It wouldn’t be a side character if she didn’t self-destruct.】 The floating commentary was impossible to misunderstand. I was the self-destructing side character. The villain of my own story. Alex and I were locked in a stalemate. It was clear now that whatever was in his pocket was staying there tonight. His phone buzzed on the coffee table. I sighed, the fight draining out of me. “Fine. Go answer your phone.” I turned and walked toward the bedroom. As I passed the table, my eyes caught the name on the screen. Lana. Definitely not a man’s name. Could this be her? The heroine the comments were cheering for? A wave of nausea hit me. It’s a lie to say it didn’t hurt. Alex and I had known each other for five years, been together for three. We both came from nothing, two kids from working-class towns who decided to brave the city together after college. To save on rent, moving in together was a no-brainer. Our apartment was small, but every mismatched mug, every scuffed piece of IKEA furniture, every throw pillow, we’d picked out together. We’d polished this temporary box into a home, warm and lived-in. We even adopted a cat, Milo. My gaze swept over our little world, a lump forming in my throat. Soon, all of this might just be a memory. I collapsed onto our bed, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. Just as I’d expected, I heard the front door open and click shut. He left. He went to find someone else. The realization ripped through me, and a sob tore from my throat, raw and ugly. My heart seized, a physical, stabbing pain. My first love. My first everything. And it was ending. “Waaaaah…” In the empty apartment, the only sound left was the echo of my own grief. 2. I don’t know how long I cried before exhaustion pulled me under. When I woke, Alex was sitting on the edge of the bed. He stared at my swollen eyes, a strange mix of anger and amusement on his face. “You hit me, and you’re the one crying?” His anger seemed to have faded. Someone had clearly done a good job of soothing him. I turned my back to him, refusing to even look at him. If he wasn’t going to break up with me now, what was his plan? To see us both? When he reached for me, I slapped the back of his hand away. “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands!” That did it. Alex shot to his feet, his voice tight with fury. “Filthy? Chloe, I shouldn’t have bothered going out to get you ointment!” Ointment? I glanced down at my hand. A thin layer of a pale, soothing balm was spread across my knuckles. But what did that prove? It was just a final, desperate twitch from a dying relationship. Since he wouldn’t say it, I would. “Alex, let’s break up.” 【Whoa, didn’t expect the side character to be the one to end it.】 【Yeah, but wait until she sees how successful he becomes. She’ll be the one crawling back.】 【Just break up already. You two are toxic.】 Alex froze, his face a mask of disbelief. “What did you say?” “I said, let’s break up. I’m tired.” He looked down at me, his voice eerily calm. “I want to know why.” I sniffled, the words tumbling out. “Because I’m tired of waiting up for you until one or two in the morning. Sometimes I don’t see you for days. You know I hate the dark, Alex.” But the real reason was simpler. It was better for me to dump him than for him to dump me. At least this way, I could keep a shred of my dignity. 【This girl is killing me. The man is grinding to build a future, and all she can think about is herself. She deserves to be broke forever.】 【He was right not to propose. A girlfriend like this will only drag him down.】 【The heroine is so much better. She supports his career and gives him the emotional validation he needs.】 That’s what Alex was thinking too, wasn’t it? 3. I secretly wiped a tear from my eye and started pulling my clothes out of the closet. Alex watched me, his voice softer now. “I told you, once this project is over, I’ll make it up to you. Why don’t you believe me? I don’t agree to this breakup. You don’t have to move out right away. I won’t come back for a few days. Just… cool off.” And then he was gone again, leaving me alone. I did the math. The lease was up in two weeks. I could stay here while I looked for a new place. I went about my days, work and home, keeping myself busy enough not to think about him. Three nights later, there was a knock on the door. I assumed it was Alex, back already. I checked myself in the mirror, smoothed my hair, and opened it. But it wasn’t him. It was a woman I’d never seen before. She gave me a bright, practiced smile. “Hi, I’m a friend of Alex’s. He asked me to pick up a few things for him.” The feeling was instant—a sharp, cold needle straight to the heart. I forced myself to stay calm. “You’re Lana, aren’t you?” She blinked, just for a second, then nodded. I handed her the bag of files she’d pointed to. As she turned to leave, the words came out before I could stop them, a painful litany of my love. “He doesn’t like to be bothered after he’s been drinking. Just let him sleep it off. And he has a severe peanut allergy, so be careful with takeout. Remember to pack him a mask every day, he’s sensitive to strong smells on the subway…” The woman’s smile turned smug, victorious. “Okay, got it. I’ll be sure to take very good care of him for you.” The moment the door closed, my legs gave out. I slid to the floor, a hollow ache spreading through my chest. The comments flared to life again. 【Tonight’s the night! The hero and heroine get drunk at the bar, things get heated, and he finally realizes who his heart truly belongs to.】 【So hot. He goes all night.】 【Our girl is gonna be so sore tomorrow. Poor baby!】 Alex wouldn’t agree to a breakup but would sleep with someone else that quickly? All night? I didn’t even know he had that in him. A reckless, self-destructive urge took over. I needed to see it. I needed to let the reality of it cauterize this wound shut for good. I went to the bar they mentioned in the comments. I checked room after room in the private lounge area until I got to the one at the very end of the hall. Before I could even touch the handle, I heard it—the kind of sounds that make you blush. “Oh, Alex, harder…” “I’m so close, ah…” My hand trembled on the doorknob. I couldn’t believe this. I couldn’t believe he could be so… cheap. A sour taste filled my mouth. Well, I came all this way. I might as well witness for myself how completely the man I loved for five years could disappoint me. The door swung open. A shriek pierced the air. Two strangers, a man and a woman, stared back at me, their faces a mixture of terror and outrage. Realization dawned. I mumbled an apology and backed out, my face burning. Just as I turned, I saw Alex and another woman walking into a different private room down the hall. So I’d just had the wrong room. The small flicker of relief I’d felt moments ago was instantly extinguished.

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1 I accidentally slept with my arch-nemesis. I woke up and ran. But freakish fertility meant one night resulted in quadruplets. Before I could tell my family, mercenaries grabbed us and locked us in a private hospital suite. Sebastian Croft—the man I’d slept with—had crashed on his way to a party and was now in a coma. The quadruplets? Possibly his only heirs. His mother offered $400 million to keep them. My parents refused: “We’re poor but proud,” my father said. My sister Lily promised to help me raise them. As I nearly agreed, Sebastian’s voice rang in my mind: Take the money, idiot! Last time, your parents took 4 billion from my mother for our sons—then gave it all to your sister! Your father sold you to some backwoods town for 10k while you recovered, afraid you’d ruin Lily’s perfect life! I stared at his motionless lips, even pried them open slightly. Don’t touch me, moron! If you hear me—don’t be a fool again! … “Geri Bartlett, how could you have sex before marriage? I never thought I’d have such a disgraceful daughter!” My dad’s face was purple with rage, his finger practically touching my nose as he spat his words. My mom stepped between us. “Mark, times have changed. Don’t be so harsh on Geri. What’s done is done. We need to think about her future now.” She turned to me, her voice softening. “Geri, honey, we’re not rich, but we’ve always made sure you and Lily had everything you needed. I taught you from a young age that a person’s dignity is priceless. If you take that four hundred million, you’re essentially selling your children. We don’t do things like that. It’s immoral.” She patted my hand. “You’ve never been pregnant before, sweetie, you don’t know what to expect. I’ll take care of you. And after the babies are born, I’ll help you raise them.” Lily nodded eagerly. “I’ll help too, sis! I’m an elementary school teacher, so I can make sure we raise four little geniuses!” Just like Sebastian’s thoughts had predicted. A perfect prophecy. “And what about me?” I asked my mom, my voice quiet. She hesitated for a second. “Well, of course, I’ll look after you while you recover from the birth.” “And after that?” I pressed. “Do I just… not get married?” “After you have these kids, you can stop being so picky and get back to dating!” my dad roared before my mom could answer. She shot him a glare and turned back to me with a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to get married. You’ll have done the most important thing in a woman’s life. You can do whatever you want after that. Of course,” she added, “you’ll still have to work. Four babies will be a handful for your father and me, so you’ll need to earn money for formula.” Influenced by Sebastian’s mental tirade, I could suddenly see the superficiality in her words, the false comfort I’d never noticed before. My whole life, I’d seen my family in a certain light. My dad was a typical patriarch, ordering my mom, Lily, and me around without a second thought. My mom, though she enabled him, was gentle and reasonable. She never told me to “give in to your sister” and often praised me for being sensible and smart. Lily had always been my shadow, and even though we grew distant when she went to college out-of-state, she was still my sweet little sister whenever she came home. Had I been blind my whole life, or was Sebastian using some kind of black magic to mess with my head? “Geri, you’re not actually thinking about taking the money, are you?” Lily’s voice, suddenly sharp and shrill, snapped me back to reality. The jealousy in her eyes was a palpable thing. My mom’s face hardened. “Geri, you’ve only been working for a couple of years. Have you already developed such a taste for luxury? If you choose the money, I’ll be deeply disappointed in you.” I could understand her not wanting me to “sell my kids.” But calling me greedy for accepting a payment that would secure their future? That, I didn’t understand. My dad’s anger boiled over. He shoved past my mom, his hand raised to strike me. I flinched back instinctively. His eyes bulged. “You dare to dodge? You worthless girl! If you take that money, I swear I’ll break your legs when we get home!” Sebastian’s mental voice was frantic. Geri, can’t you see it? They don’t love you! My mother is waiting for your decision, and your own father is calling you ‘worthless.’ Has he ever called your sister that? I know it’s hard to accept that your parents don’t love you, but you have to wake up—for our sons! Take the four hundred million and live your life! “What happened to the children?” I whispered, looking at him. When they were old enough, they kept asking about their mother. Our eldest, the smartest one, figured out where you’d been taken when he was only five. He went to save you alone. The other three secretly followed him… and something terrible happened to all of them. The pain in his thoughts was so raw it was clear they had suffered immensely. I stroked my barely-there bump, a wave of protectiveness washing over me. My decision was made. My dad was still yelling. “What are you talking to this vegetable for? So what if his family has money? He’s as good as dead! You are not marrying him!” Mrs. Croft had finally had enough. “Mark Bartlett, my son is not dead. And I will see to it that he recovers.” My father deflated instantly, muttering under his breath, “Can’t even call a vegetable a vegetable anymore.” I almost laughed. He was just a paper tiger, all bark and no bite. I looked at Mrs. Croft, my voice firm. “Ma’am, I accept your offer. You can transfer two hundred million now, and the other two hundred after the children are born. And… if you’ll have me, I’d like to marry Sebastian.” I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure about Sebastian’s telepathic warnings, but one thing was certain: with money, I could build a good life. I could protect the people I wanted to protect. Idiot! You are not marrying me! My father exploded. “You crazy bitch! Are you out of your mind? For a bit of cash, you’re going to have a vegetable’s babies and then tie yourself to him for life? I don’t have a daughter so pathetic!” My mother’s face was grim. “Geri, don’t be so impulsive. You’ll regret this.” Lily couldn’t hide her malice anymore. She glared at me as if she wanted to tear me apart. Mrs. Croft looked me straight in the eye. “Geri, you’re willing to marry my son, even if he never recovers?” I nodded. “I don’t want my children to be illegitimate.” “Don’t worry about that,” she said smoothly. “I can arrange their story.” I shrugged. “Then I just want the money.” A man with a mouth as foul as Sebastian’s wasn’t exactly my dream husband. “Done.” Mrs. Croft transferred two hundred million dollars to my account on the spot. The notification sound on my phone was the most satisfying thing I’d ever heard. The room fell silent. My family stared, mouths agape. My father was the first to snap out of it. He lunged at me, his hand raised again. “You give that money back—Agh!” Before he could finish, one of the mercenaries had him in an iron grip. Faced with absolute power, my father began to tremble and beg. Mrs. Croft’s voice was calm but laced with steel. “Mark Bartlett, Geri is now the mother of my grandchildren. I will not allow you to harm her.” My mom, terrified, rushed to smooth things over. “Geri is our eldest! Now that she has all this money, why would we ever hurt her? Mark just has a temper, I’ll talk to him. You’re a powerful woman, please don’t hold it against him.” “See that you do,” Mrs. Croft said, dismissing them. “Now, please leave. My son needs his rest.” Mrs. Croft arranged a separate car for me. My father, still shaken, didn’t dare say another word. My mother grabbed Lily and offered me a few hollow compliments, but I knew better than to believe them now. Free from their control, I went straight to one bank and deposited a hundred million, then to another to buy fifty million in gold bars. The rest I set aside for a house. After a quick stop at a lawyer’s office, I had the Croft’s driver take me back to my parents’ home. I didn’t expect the complete change in attitude that awaited me. My father was standing in the living room, holding a belt, his voice stiff. “Daughter, you’re pregnant. I shouldn’t have tried to hit you. I’m here to apologize.” He actually started to kneel. “Don’t,” I said, stopping him. His face flushed. “So, you accept my apology?” I nodded. In truth, I was only there to pack my things and leave for good. I had to protect my unborn children, and whether my father’s apology was genuine or not was completely irrelevant. My mom beamed. “See, Mark? I told you Geri is the most sensible one. She never holds a grudge, especially not against her parents.” I’d heard her call me “sensible” a thousand times growing up. Today, I finally understood what it meant. It was a tool of manipulation, a way to make me feel guilty for wanting anything, for fighting for myself. While the “willful” Lily could live freely and be showered with all their love. Why? What made it fair? My mom wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Come on in, Geri. I made your favorite, steamed crab.” It was another one of her moves, a desperate attempt to keep me under her thumb. But this time, it only exposed her ignorance. She didn’t even know I was allergic to crab. Lily loved crab, so we had it often, but I could never eat more than a few bites. The one time I got to eat a whole quarter of a crab was after I placed first on a major exam in high school. I got sick immediately. My mom gave me some cash and told me to go to the clinic myself. When I came home and told her I had an allergy, my dad called me dramatic, and my mom promised she’d stop making it. A day later, Lily whined that she wanted crab dumplings, and my mom prepared a feast. Before we ate, she placed a heaping plate of steamed crab in front of me. “This is just steamed, Geri,” she said kindly. “It’s light, and I washed it very carefully. You’ll be fine this time. You’re such a good girl, even sickness wouldn’t dare to touch you. Trust me.” I got sick again. This time, I quietly took an allergy pill and told myself she just didn’t understand allergies. If I was just more sensible, my allergy wouldn’t be a problem for the family. I had brainwashed myself like that countless times, all for a few scraps of their love. Thank god I was finally awake. At the dinner table, I picked at a bland plate of stir-fried bok choy while my family exchanged furtive glances. Lily finally broke the silence. “Sis, my commute is two hours each way now. It’s killing me. I’ve been wanting to buy one of those townhouses near the school. My birthday’s coming up, so you could just get me the deed as a gift, right? It’s not much, only twenty million.” A small, bitter smile touched my lips. Of course. This whole act was about the money. “I donated it,” I said flatly. “All of it. To charity.” Lily’s face contorted. “What? Two hundred million? You donated all of it? For twenty-something years, you’ve lived in this house, used our money, and you never once thought about giving back?” “You’ve lived here longer and used more,” I replied calmly. “Have you ever thought about giving back?” She was stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. My dad jumped to her defense. “Lily is different! She gives her salary to us, and she got that tenured teaching position. Her life is stable; your mother and I don’t have to worry about her. Besides, you’re the one who will marry out. She’s the one who’s going to stay and take care of us. It’s only right that she gets more.” So that was it. “Whose decision was that?” I asked. “Of course it was—” he started, but my mom tugged his sleeve. She gave me that practiced, phony smile. “You and Lily drew straws when you were little to decide, Geri. Don’t you remember?” I didn’t. And I suspected it was just another lie to justify their favoritism. I let go of my last shred of hope. I looked at my mom. “So you want me to buy Lily the townhouse too, right?” Her gaze flickered away. “Geri, you’ll have four hundred million after the babies are born. A twenty-million-dollar house won’t make a dent.” I laughed. “I’ll buy her the house. On one condition: we cut all legal ties. From this day forward, I am not responsible for your retirement or your care.” “You ungrateful child!” my father roared. “No, we can’t do that, we can’t…” my mother cried, slapping her thigh in distress. Lily, however, saw her opportunity. “Mom, Dad, I’ll take care of you. Look at her, the second she gets money, she wants to abandon you. Do you really think she’ll ever be a good daughter? That townhouse is in the city center; it’s an investment! It’ll only go up in value.” My parents hesitated. I wasn’t surprised. I placed a document on the table—an itemized bill of every expense they’d ever paid for me since birth. “The total on paper is less than five hundred thousand, but I know raising me took effort. So I’ll pay you two million, lump sum. After you retire, I’ll also pay you each ten thousand a month for the rest of your lives. If you live another ten years, you’ll get far more than twenty million. I can even set it up through an insurance policy if you don’t trust me.” They always said Lily, the teacher, was the stable, dependable one, while I, with my corporate job, was wild and unreliable. Fine. Let’s see if their “stable” daughter was more important than a guaranteed, comfortable retirement. Lily panicked. “Dad, Mom, she’s lying to you!” I was prepared. I coolly produced a checkbook and three copies of a contract I’d had my lawyer draft. “I can write the check for two million right now. The contracts are already signed by me. All you have to do is sign, and they become legally binding.”

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1 The young assistant my husband doted on was behind the wheel for the first time. She mowed down my daughter. The wheels crushed Lily’s tiny legs. I screamed, a raw, useless sound against the blood gushing from the holes in her flesh. When Stephen arrived, the driver, Kate, dissolved into a storm of tears and buried herself in his arms. “Stephen, your daughter just ran into the road! She was trying to scam us! This disgusting mother-daughter pair, they must be trying to break us up!” Stephen’s arms tightened around her, a fortress. “I’ve already signed a waiver. No one will touch you.” He murmured, his voice impossibly gentle. “My poor princess, you must be terrified. I’ll take you to Disneyland to clear your head.” And as I knelt on the pavement, begging the paramedics to save my child, my husband was on one knee under the Disneyland fireworks, placing a princess tiara on his assistant’s head. Later, when my daughter was nothing but a handful of ash, he finally remembered he was a father, and he wept, begging her to come back… … Outside the emergency room, I paced, each step a lifetime of anxiety. Suddenly, a courier with a small package found me. “Are you Mrs. Pierce? This is from your husband.” I looked down as a text from Stephen lit up my screen. “Lily needs to be more careful. Running into the street like that… she almost got Kate killed.” “A band-aid should be enough for that scrape. I have to fly out for an international deal. You keep an eye on her.” He added one last line. “Once she’s better, I’ll take you both to Disneyland.” Just then, Kate’s social media feed updated. Under the explosion of fireworks above the Disney castle, she and Stephen were posing for a selfie, matching Mickey Mouse ears perched on their heads. The caption read, “A dream come true at Disney! Thank you to the most handsome CEO in the world!” The man who was always so cold and severe had shed his armor, posing for a nine-photo spread of cloying, intimate selfies with her. His usually indifferent eyes were burning with a heat, a devotion, I hadn’t seen in years. Hours later, the light above the ER door finally went out. I stumbled forward, my legs giving way. The doctor just pulled off his mask and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” A nurse next to him whispered, “That poor little girl… it breaks your heart.” They told me that in her last moments, during a final, fleeting burst of consciousness, she had been murmuring one thing over and over. “Daddy… Lily’s not a bad girl… please don’t leave me and Mommy.” So she knew. My daughter understood all along. She had seen the way Stephen’s voice turned impossibly soft whenever he spoke to Kate, a tone reserved only for her. For us, all that was left was impatient dismissal. She knew that when his phone rang with that special ringtone, he would drop everything and walk out the door, leaving us behind. We had lost his favor, his light. In a flash, the memories I tried so hard to suppress flooded back. Lily, crumpled on the asphalt, whimpering in agony as her life bled out onto the pavement. Stephen, arriving at the scene, his first instinct not to rush to his daughter, but to cradle a terrified Kate in his arms. “Don’t be afraid, Kate. When the police get here, I’ll sign the waiver. I’ll protect you.” Kate was the one who had done this, an unforgivable crime, yet my husband stood ready to be her shield, her champion. My daughter’s eyes were fixed on them, on Stephen holding Kate. The light in those bright, innocent eyes dimmed, flicker by flicker, until only a deep, bottomless despair remained. Now, clutching my daughter’s cold, still body, I knelt before the mortician, my voice a shattered whisper. “Please… please, cover the wounds. Let her go in peace… let her be whole.” On the cold steel table, Lily lay with her eyes closed, looking so peaceful, as if she’d never known a moment of pain. As if, at any second, she would rub her eyes and call out, “Mommy.” The mortician gently straightened the hem of her little dress. “Ma’am,” he said softly, “it’s time for her to go.” The pain in my chest was so immense I couldn’t breathe. I wanted nothing more than to follow her. At that exact moment, Kate posted a new video. “So this is what a suite that costs tens of thousands a night at Disney looks like! Thanks to my CEO for the eye-opening experience!” She gave a sly wink to the camera. “And a little secret for you all… the Ice King might act tough, but his lips are surprisingly soft when you kiss them.” Before the words had even faded, a hand with long, elegant fingers pushed her playfully onto the bed. A man’s deep voice, laced with dangerous charm, rumbled through the speaker. That night, they embraced in the most magical suite in the Magic Kingdom. My daughter was pushed into an incinerator. Her small body, turned to ash, inch by inch. My heart felt as though it had been carved out of my chest. Eight years ago, Stephen and I were struggling to get our company off the ground, crammed into a tiny, rundown apartment. Maybe Lily was our lucky star. The moment she was born, our fortunes turned. Contracts started pouring in like an avalanche. Once we had money, Stephen wanted to give her the world. He was so determined to make her his one and only princess that he underwent a vasectomy, a risky procedure back then. I remember him after the surgery, pale but resolute, holding our baby girl. “Lily,” he’d whispered, “Daddy promises. You will be my only child, forever.” And over the years, how many times had he promised to take her to Disneyland? In the end, he fulfilled that princess dream for another woman, placing a crown on her head before a fairy-tale castle. I buried my face in my hands, hot tears streaming through my fingers. Lily, my sweet girl, Mommy was wrong. I was so, so wrong. I forgot the oldest rule in the book. A man with money is a man with a wandering eye. I sat slumped in a chair at the crematorium, sending text after text to Stephen. [KATE KILLED OUR DAUGHTER. HOW COULD YOU SLEEP WITH HER?!] [Stephen, I will never, ever forgive you!] The screen remained dark. My storm of emotions quieted into a dead, hollow calm. I sent one last message. [Lily is gone… Come say your last goodbye.] A moment later, the phone lit up. Stephen’s reply was a shard of ice in my heart. [Are you insane? Cursing our own daughter just for attention? You disgust me.] I stared at the screen, biting my lower lip so hard I tasted blood. The man who once crawled on his knees up the stone steps of a monastery, praying for a charm to keep our daughter safe—that man was gone forever. If only, Stephen. If only I had never met you… At dawn, I went home to pack up Lily’s things. I sifted through old photos, each smiling face a dull knife twisting in my gut. Suddenly, I heard footsteps and laughter from downstairs. It was Stephen’s voice, crisp and cold, but laced with an unmistakable, uncontainable joy. “Kate, I can’t believe it… you’re pregnant!” His voice trembled. “After my surgery… to have another child… this is a miracle. A gift from heaven.” I heard him gently help her to the couch. “A little prince or a little princess, I don’t care, I’ll love them just the same. I’m going to the study to get the bank books. Don’t you worry. I’ll give you and our baby the best life imaginable.” That was our money. Money that was meant for me and Lily. How dare he use it to raise the child of the homewrecker who destroyed my family? The child of my daughter’s killer! A wave of pure rage propelled me through the door. I saw Kate lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, as if she were the queen of this house. When she saw me, a smug smirk played on her red lips. Her eyes glinted with triumph. She trailed a finger lightly over her flat stomach. “Oh, Lia. I’m so, so sorry,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I guess I’m just young, you know? My body is just… better. Even after Stephen’s little procedure, he hits the jackpot on the first try with me…” Her words were a bomb that detonated inside my skull, shattering what was left of my sanity. I lunged, throwing myself at her without a second thought. I was a mother beast, cornered and broken, my grief erupting in a primal scream. “You monster! Give me back my daughter! You took my life!” In the ensuing struggle, her sharp nails raked across my face, leaving bloody trails. She slapped me, hard and fast, like a sudden downpour. I hadn’t eaten in over a day, and even with all my strength, all I could manage was to tear out a few strands of her hair. Kate threw her head back and shrieked. “Stephen, help me! Save me and the baby!” Her voice was a theatrical wail. “This bitch is trying to make me bald!” Stephen rushed in at the sound of the commotion. Without hesitation, he grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk. The sight of them in his hand sent a sliver of ice through my veins. What… what was he going to do? The man who once promised to be my shield from the world now stood before me, his face a thundercloud. “I leave for two seconds, and you dare to hurt Kate? What will you do when she moves in? Try to kill her?” The cold glint of the steel flashed before my eyes. I stared, paralyzed by fear, tears streaming down my face. I summoned every ounce of strength I had left. “No, Stephen, you can’t… you can’t do this to me…” A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He sneered, his other hand grabbing a fistful of my long hair. “Who do you think you are, Lia? You think our ten years together gives you a free pass to treat Kate however you want?” As he spoke, bodyguards materialized, pinning my arms. He brought the scissors to my hair and began to hack away, each rough cut a severing of a memory. In my despair, a ghost of a gentler time surfaced… back when Stephen wasn’t the untouchable CEO of Pierce Corp. To save money, he’d learned to cut hair himself, and he’d washed mine countless times, his fingers always so gentle. Today, for his assistant, he was shearing away the hair I cherished, and with it, every last shred of the love between us. When he was finished, the reflection in the shattered mirror showed a grotesque stranger with a butchered, patchy scalp. I screamed, a sound of pure agony, and lunged forward, smashing what was left of the mirror. His voice cut through my sobs, cold and hard as stone. He knelt before Kate, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles as if she were royalty. “For every ounce of grief she causes you, I will make her repay it a hundredfold. Now, is my princess satisfied?” Kate wrapped her arms around his neck, nodding shyly. She glanced at me, and her lips curled into the triumphant smile of a victor. “Look at you,” she sneered. “A plucked chicken. You really think you can compete with me for him now? He stopped loving you years ago. This desperation is just pathetic.” A hollow, empty smile stretched across my own lips. “Stephen,” I said, my voice eerfed by flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” “The life I wanted—one man, one woman, for a lifetime—you can’t give me that anymore.” He answered with a dismissive scoff. “You’re a housewife, Lia. You wouldn’t survive a day without me. A divorce? Fine. But Lily stays. She’s a Pierce. You’re not taking her anywhere.” With that, he swept Kate into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Soon, the sound of her delighted giggles drifted down from the master bedroom. I knelt on the floor, surrounded by the shorn locks of my hair, and finally let myself break completely. You’re wrong, Stephen. You can never take her with you. I found a hat, wiped my tears, and drove to the crematorium. After signing the release form for the ashes, I looked at the attendant, my voice trembling. “Could you… could you please put them in this urn for me?” My voice was steady, but my body swayed, and I nearly collapsed. It was a ceramic urn we had made together, as a family. I remember that day. Stephen had rushed through his part, his movements bored and dismissive. Then his phone rang, and he left without a backward glance. Lily had watched him go, her little mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. My heart ached. I knew that look. It was the face she made when she was disappointed beyond words. And now, she would sleep forever inside that very urn, the one her father couldn’t be bothered to look at twice. Before heading to the airport, I did one last thing. I sent a video file to an encrypted email address. Just as the plane was about to take off, a flight attendant approached me, her expression apologetic. “Mrs. Pierce? I’m sorry, but a suspicious item was detected in your luggage. We’ll need you to come with us for an additional security check.” My face remained calm, but my heart hammered against my ribs. When I stepped off the plane, I saw him. Stephen, with his arm wrapped tightly around Kate. His features were sharp and unforgiving in the cold wind. “Lia. Who gave you permission to leave Havenport?” His gaze dropped to the object in my arms. “And where is Lily? Why isn’t she with you?” I didn’t answer. I just turned and ran, a primal instinct to flee. Suddenly, bodyguards swarmed from all directions, their hands clamping down on my arms like iron vises. Stephen frowned, his eyes fixed on the urn I clutched to my chest. “Why are you carrying that ugly pot around on a plane?” Kate sashayed over, a smug look on her face, and snatched the urn from my hands with ease. I looked up at her, my voice raw and cracking, begging. “No! Please, don’t touch her! My daughter is in there!” She popped the lid off, dipped her fingers inside, and brought a pinch of the powder to her lips. “Kate, no! You already killed her! Let her rest in peace!” Amid my frantic screams, she licked her fingertips, a slight smirk on her face. Then, her expression soured. She gagged dramatically and, with a flick of her wrist, overturned the urn, dumping its entire contents onto the cold, unforgiving concrete. “Ugh, disgusting! It’s just flour! Lia, you really are a drama queen. You almost had us going there.” Hearing this, the tension drained from Stephen’s body. The dark storm in his eyes subsided. He lifted his expensive leather shoe and ground the powder on the ground into dust. “Lia, we’ll settle this little stunt later. I’ve already been to the hospital. Lily isn’t there. Where did you hide her?!” The blood drained from my face. I forced the words from my throat. “I’m not lying. Lily… is dead.” Stephen’s eyes turned to ice. “I’ll find out where she is myself. And since you refuse to tell the truth, perhaps you should never speak again.” He gave a sharp, brutal flick of his hand. “Take her. Sew her mouth shut.” The bodyguards approached me, vile grins spreading across their faces, as if they had been waiting for this moment their whole lives. “So sorry about this, Ma’am…” the leader sneered, his yellowed teeth flashing as he grabbed me. “Remember that time you cut your finger slicing fruit? The boss docked my pay for a whole year for that. Today, I finally get to collect on that debt.” The tip of the needle pierced my lip. Pain, sharp and blinding, shot through me, and my body convulsed in a silent, tear-soaked scream. Another guard leaned in close, his breath hot and foul in my ear. “Remember me, Ma’am? You wandered off while shopping, outside the protection detail. The boss gave me a hundred lashes for that…” The needle weaved in and out of my flesh, each pull of the thread an agony that tore through me. Through a blur of tears, I saw Stephen standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching me with cold detachment. All the love, all the tender protection he had once showered upon me, had now been twisted into weapons used to destroy me, body and soul. Just as they were about to pull the final stitch tight, Stephen’s sharp eyes caught something. A glint of white in the gray dust on the ground. He bent down slowly, his movements stiff, and picked it up. It was… it was a tiny tooth, not quite consumed by the fire. He lunged at me, his hands closing around my throat, his voice a raw, desperate roar. “Lia, what is this powder on the ground?!” The man who always had the world in the palm of his hand was finally, terrifyingly, losing control. “Tell me! That’s not Lily’s ashes, is it? IS IT?!”

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