Category: English

1 In my second life, I didn’t go to the vet with my best friend. Instead, I stayed up all night, chugged two bottles of a potent herbal liqueur known for its high alcohol content, and got on the highway. When the flashing lights pulled me over, I blew hard into the breathalyzer until it screamed. Then, smiling, I climbed into the back of the police cruiser. In my past life, my best friend, Serena, had called me, frantic. Her cat was sick, and she begged me to drive her to the emergency vet. But on the way, her normally placid cat had suddenly launched itself at my face, a feral blur of claws and teeth. I lost control of the car and slammed into a massive Tibetan Mastiff. The dog’s owner demanded a million dollars in compensation. My parents bankrupted themselves trying to save me, selling their home and cashing out their retirement. My fiancé’s reputation was dragged through the mud alongside mine. In the end, after I had nothing left, I was cornered by a mob of animal rights vigilantes, beaten to death, and my body left in a ditch. This time would be different. 2 “Your blood alcohol is over the limit. Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle immediately.” The officer’s voice was firm as he stared at the flashing breathalyzer in his hand. The moment I stepped onto the pavement, my phone buzzed. A text from Serena. “Aria, my poor kitty has diarrhea, he’s so weak. Can you please, please drive us to the vet?” The exact same message as before. The words hit me like a physical blow. A cold dread washed over me, and my body began to tremble. “Scared now, are we? Should have thought of that before you started drinking.” The officer clapped a hand on my shoulder. I snapped out of my trance and beamed at him, practically skipping towards the cruiser. “Let’s go, officer! Take me away!” “Alright, at least you’re cooperating.” He muttered under his breath, “What’s with the smile? This is a police station, not a party.” A couple of other drunk guys in the back of the car stared at me like I had two heads. At the station, a nurse prepared to draw my blood for a more accurate test. I held out my arm, a look of triumph on my face. The nurse frowned, her grip tightening on the needle. “Aria, are you okay?” “Honey, the police said you were driving under the influence. What on earth is going on?” The door to the small medical room burst open. My parents and my fiancé, Leo, rushed in, their faces etched with worry. “Hey, we’re in the middle of a procedure, you can’t just come in here!” the nurse snapped. “My fiancée would never drink and drive,” Leo insisted, his voice tight with anger. “There must be a mistake!” My parents just looked at me, their eyes filled with a familiar, heart-wrenching concern. Seeing them all there, ready to defend me, made my eyes burn. It was okay. Everything was going to be okay this time. In this life, my parents wouldn’t lose everything for me. My fiancé wouldn’t have his career destroyed because of me. “We’ll know if there was a mistake when the results come back. Now please, wait outside!” An officer stepped in. He squinted at my face under the harsh fluorescent lights, then sniffed the air around me. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?” he asked, his voice low. A flicker of panic shot through me, but I crushed it down. I put on my best indignant act. “Of course not! I have no idea why that machine went off. It’s probably broken, right?” The officer gave a slightly embarrassed nod and walked off to check on the others. I glanced at my phone. Another message from Serena. “Did you fall asleep? Why aren’t you answering? I booked the vet appointment. See you at nine a.m. sharp.” 3 In my last life, I had agreed. I drove her and her cat to the vet myself. On the road, that “sick,” gentle little cat had exploded from her lap and clawed at my face. I’d flailed, trying to push it off, and the car had swerved, hitting the Tibetan Mastiff that had darted out from the side of the road. The dog was thrown fifteen feet, landing in a bloody heap. It was gone in seconds. The owner went berserk. He dragged me from my car and beat me right there on the pavement next to his dog’s body. “My Apollo was a prize-winner from Sotheby’s! I paid over a million dollars for him, and you killed him! Are you blind?!” he screamed, his face purple with rage. “I don’t care what happens, you will pay me back every single cent!” Bystanders gathered, but no one intervened. They just pointed and whispered. “The road is wide open. How do you even manage to hit a dog? She must have done it on purpose.” “Probably just got dumped and decided to take it out on the world.” I tried to explain about the cat, that it startled me, that it was an accident. But Serena, stroking the creature in her arms, immediately shot me down. “What are you talking about? You swerved on purpose. Don’t you dare blame my poor, sick cat for your recklessness!” There were no security cameras on that stretch of road. With Serena and the dog owner both pointing the finger at me, I was doomed. My family and Leo were ruined along with me. And even after we’d scraped together the money, even after the transfer went through, I was ambushed by those vigilantes. The blood and the pain of my last life were a scar on my soul. But this time, I had an airtight alibi. I was at a police station, surrounded by cops, cameras, and medical staff. No one could frame me now. After the blood test, I spent the night in a holding cell. It was cold and damp, but I felt a warmth spreading through my chest. The next morning, an officer came to my cell with a report. “Your blood alcohol content was below the legal limit. You’re free to go.” I checked my phone. It was already noon. I had successfully missed the 9 a.m. appointment from hell. Just to be safe, I put on a sheepish face and told the officer my car was out of gas, begging for a ride home. The moment I hopped off the back of his motorcycle, I saw it: a swarm of police cars and officers in front of my apartment building. Suddenly, Serena burst out of the crowd, her eyes red-rimmed. She grabbed my hand. “Aria! I know how much you love animals! Why would you deliberately run over that man’s dog this morning?” My eyes went wide. “What?” The officer beside me looked just as confused. I’d been at the station since last night. How could she still be trying to pin this on me? I yanked my hand away. “I was at the police station all night, being held on suspicion of a DUI—” “So you were drinking!” Serena cut me off, her voice rising dramatically. “No wonder you crashed, even with your skills! But Aria, if you knew you were drinking, why did you still insist on driving me? Don’t you know that causing an accident while drunk is an even worse crime?” A crowd of onlookers pressed in, their murmurs turning hostile at Serena’s words. Some were holding their own pets, and the looks they gave me were filled with pure fury. Before I knew it, I felt shoves and punches from the crowd. Muddy footprints appeared on the back of my shirt. The officers nearby saw the commotion and rushed over to break it up. Finally able to breathe, I screamed at Serena, “I wasn’t drinking, I didn’t drive anywhere, and I sure as hell didn’t kill anyone’s dog! Stop spreading lies! If you have proof, then show it!” A flash of venom crossed Serena’s face before she masked it with performative grief, shouting to the crowd, “Officers, please! My friend is clearly not in her right mind! She was drunk, she didn’t kill the dog on purpose! Can’t you talk to the owner? Maybe he’ll settle for nine hundred thousand instead of a full million?” She grabbed my arm again, trying to drag me toward a police car. I struggled, her nails digging into my skin. Just then, the officer who drove me home stepped in, his hand clamping down on Serena’s wrist like a vice. “This woman has been at the police station with me since last night. I just dropped her off.” He stared Serena down. “You claim she killed a dog. Where is your evidence?” 4 At the officer’s challenge, Serena froze. She finally let go of my arm, but her arrogance remained. “Who are you? I’m assisting the police with their investigation. Uninvolved parties should stay out of it.” “I’m a police officer.” He flashed his badge. “Ma’am,” he said, his voice hard as steel, “I don’t know why you’re so agitated. But I suggest you explain why you’re accusing someone who has a perfect alibi.” Panic flickered in Serena’s eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Just then, a man pushed his way out of the crowd. The dog owner. He pointed a trembling finger at my face. “I can prove it! She’s the one who killed my Apollo!” Seeing the man who had helped ruin my life, I felt a surge of cold fury. In my past life, yes, I had killed his dog. It was an accident, but I accepted the blame. But this life? I hadn’t been anywhere near a car. We had never even met. On what grounds was he so certain it was me? I glared at him. “Sir, you can’t just throw accusations around. We are complete strangers. Why are you trying to frame me?” “I have a video from the traffic department! It’s all the proof I need!” he roared, pulling out his phone. The crowd surged forward to see. On the screen, a woman in a white dress, baseball cap, and sunglasses slammed a car into a Tibetan Mastiff. The car’s make, model, and even the license plate were identical to mine. The woman’s face was obscured, but her build was eerily similar to mine. After the crash, she got out, glanced at the dog, then jumped back in the car and sped away. 5 A wave of shocked gasps went through the crowd. I was just as stunned as they were. I hadn’t driven anywhere near that vet clinic. How could this video exist? Angry shouts erupted. “That’s her! It has to be!” “You can’t see her face, but the clothes, the car… it’s a perfect match.” “Tibetan Mastiffs are such intelligent dogs. That woman is a monster!” The accusations rained down on me. Serena seized the moment, her voice dripping with venomous pity. “Aria, I know you have a habit of being cruel to small animals, but this is too much! And to think you’d bribe a police officer to lie for you… you’ve really gone too far!” Her words whipped the crowd into a frenzy. Rotten eggs and wilted vegetables started flying through the air, splattering against my clothes and hair. The officer who brought me home roared, “Everybody calm down! I have proof that this woman is innocent!” He retrieved his body camera from his motorcycle. “She was under constant surveillance from the moment she left the station this morning. This is her alibi.” Two videos, two completely different stories. Now everyone was confused. The crowd, the other officers, even the dog owner. One of the cops got on his radio, calling the station to verify my whereabouts over the last twenty-four hours. The dog owner was muttering to himself, “I couldn’t have been mistaken…” Serena was starting to look genuinely panicked, her mask of concern finally dropping. I met her glare with a cold smile. “Once the police confirm my alibi, this will all be over. You must be so disappointed.” Her tense face suddenly relaxed into a sickeningly sweet smile. “What are you talking about? We’re best friends. I couldn’t be happier that you’re innocent.” I turned away from her in disgust. The crowd was still agitated, their eyes burning with suspicion. Just then, another car pulled up. The officer who’d been on the radio had called for backup. The nurse from the station stepped out. She looked me over carefully and nodded. “That’s right. This woman was at the station all night. She didn’t leave until noon today. I even have her official blood test results.” She held up the stamped document. A new wave of confusion washed over the crowd. “Wait a minute. The cop and the nurse both say she wasn’t there. But what about the video the dog owner showed us? That was clearly her car, and it looked just like her!” “Either the video is fake, or the cops are lying for her. There’s no other explanation.” Serena shrieked, pointing a finger at me. “I get it now! You bribed them! You paid off the cop and the nurse to create a fake alibi for you!” She grabbed my arm again, tears streaming down her face. “Aria, how many times have I told you to be an honest person? I can’t believe you’d not only kill a dog but also bribe public officials to cover it up! You’re hopeless!” Her performance was convincing. The crowd’s anger turned back on me, hotter than before. “Her own best friend is saying it! It must be true!” “You monster! You bribed them!” “Killer! You’re the killer!” A man holding a Border Collie suddenly let go of the leash. The dog barked ferociously and lunged at me. I tried to dodge, but its teeth sank into my calf, a searing pain shooting up my leg. I cried out and instinctively kicked the dog away. It yelped and scrambled back to its owner, who scooped it up protectively. Serena pounced. “You see? Look how cruel she is! She even attacks a sweet, innocent Border Collie! And you still expect us to believe you didn’t kill that Mastiff on purpose? Not even a ghost would believe you!” Her eyes gleamed with a triumphant, “you’re finished” look. She held my arm in a death grip. Just then, the officer and the nurse finally pushed their way through the mob. “Ma’am,” the officer said, his voice booming with authority, “I had never met this woman before last night. There was no bribery. I demand you stop slandering a police officer, or you will face legal consequences.” Serena went pale and her hand immediately fell away from my arm. Finally, I could breathe. The police formed a protective circle around me. But before they could disperse the crowd, a new commotion erupted from the edge of the street. The dog owner was grabbing a young woman who had just been watching from the sidelines. “There you are!” he bellowed. “You killed my Apollo, and now you’re trying to sneak away!”

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“I was a princess in a tower of my own making. Then they found the real one. When the actual Ainsworth heiress came home, I became the family’s dirty little secret: the placeholder daughter. To make things less excruciatingly awkward for everyone, I volunteered to move out of the Greenwich mansion and into a campus dorm. I also broke off my engagement. “You’re breaking up with me again?” Carter Hayes had asked, his voice a low drawl over the phone. “This time it’s real, Carter.” “Oh?” A soft chuckle, drenched in the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of never being told no. “I don’t accept.” And so began Carter’s grand, ridiculously public campaign to win me back. It was a blitzkrieg of wealth and romance. Cartier jewels arrived at my dorm’s mailroom like Amazon packages. A sea of imported roses flooded the main campus quad, and a fireworks display, extravagant enough for New Year’s Eve, lit up the entire city skyline one Tuesday night. Drones danced in the dark, forming my name in glittering lights while the whole student body watched from below, gasping and filming on their phones. But I refused to see him. I held my ground until my roommate, Ashley, cornered me between my desk and the door, her expression a mask of pure annoyance. “Penelope, can you please stop stringing Carter Hayes along?” she demanded. “You two are broken up. So, would you mind if I went after him?” In that exact moment, the world tilted. Strange, translucent lines of text flickered into existence in my vision, hovering in the air like comments on a livestream. 【YES! This is the energy! Our girl is so freaking bold!】 【LMAO, watch the ice queen’s face crack. She turns down his proposals just to play games, and now she’s about to lose him for real. Serves her right.】 【Penelope is the worst kind of user. She says they’re broken up but loves the attention of him begging. Total parasite.】 【I’m so done. My heart breaks for Carter!】 1 The sudden appearance of the comments left me utterly frozen. “What’s with that look?” Ashley scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t act like I’m stealing your boyfriend. You’re exes, Penelope. Let him go. You don’t own him.” 【Seriously. He’s an ex. She has no claim on him anymore.】 【This is why I love Ashley. She’s all action, no games. She sees what she wants and goes for it.】 【Does Penelope really think that just because they dated, Carter has to stay single forever? Get over yourself.】 【Typical. Women who are like dogs with a bone. They don’t want the toy, but they’ll be damned if another dog plays with it.】 【Don’t you worry, babies. Carter will realize soon enough that Ashley is his true soulmate!】 Ashley arched an eyebrow, her tone deceptively casual. “Look, I’m trying to do this the right way. So I’m asking you one last time: you and Carter are over. Correct?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The truth was, I had no idea what we were. A week ago, we were the couple everyone envied. Now, I was the imposter daughter, and the real heiress, Claire Ainsworth, was back. Claire claimed I had stolen her life. She wanted me out of the family home as repayment for the twenty years of charity they’d shown me. The sight of me sent her into fits of tears so violent she’d once fainted and ended up in the hospital. My parents—our parents?—were terrified, and the house had become a war zone. I was the bomb that had detonated their lives. I didn’t want to make it harder for anyone. So I packed my bags, moved into this tiny dorm room, and ripped my own heart out by telling Carter it was over. But Carter refused to let go. He was pursuing me with the kind of flagrant, over-the-top gestures that made it impossible to ignore him. To say I wasn’t tempted, that my resolve didn’t waver, would be a lie. But a cold, hard truth kept pulling me back: the engagement was to the Ainsworth heiress. That wasn’t me. I was a fraud. I had to let him go. I just never imagined that Ashley, of all people, would throw herself into this tangled mess. I could only manage a bitter, ironic smile. That man was walking, talking pheromones. 2 “That’s between Carter and me.” It was a private matter, and the last thing I wanted was to dissect it with her. Ashley, however, was not satisfied. “God, can you stop being so melodramatic? You’ve been ‘breaking up’ for a week. Does that sound normal to you? It sounds like you never meant to break up at all.” Suddenly, her eyes widened as if she’d discovered a brilliant, hidden truth. “Oh my god. You really are stringing him along, aren’t you?” She let out a theatrical gasp. “Everyone was saying it, and I actually defended you. I can’t believe I was so stupid. You’ve really disappointed me, Penelope.” Her eyes narrowed, raking over me with a newfound contempt. “Playing the victim while secretly pulling the strings. You’re more calculating than I thought, Penelope.” The comments exploded in a torrent of vitriol. 【No doubt about it. She’s keeping him on the back burner. Classic move.】 【Ashley has her number. She saw right through the fake princess act.】 【Penelope is a vanity monster. Carter showering her with expensive gifts makes her look good. Everyone on campus envies her, thinking she’s got it made—even without the Ainsworth name, she’s still got the Hayes fortune to fall back on.】 【You guys don’t get it. This is all for Claire’s benefit. The more Carter obsesses over her, the more valuable she looks. It’s a slap in the face to the real heiress and makes the Ainsworths think twice about cutting her off completely. She’s a stone-cold bitch!】 Just then, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. I knew it was him. After I broke up with him, I had blocked him everywhere. For the past week, he had called me from a new number every single day with terrifying patience. I was about to decline the call when Ashley’s hand shot out, snatching the phone from my grasp. She answered it and put it on speaker. Carter’s deep, magnetic voice filled the small room. “Well, well. Finally decided to pick up for me, Princess?” His tone was laced with a lazy, confident smile. “I’m downstairs.” As if on cue, a wave of excited screams erupted from the courtyard below. I glanced out the window. A sleek, black Bentley was parked at the curb, its trunk wide open, revealing an opulent bed of perfect, crimson roses. Nestled in the center of the flowers was a velvet box, open to display a breathtaking diamond necklace that glittered under the campus lights. Carter himself, dressed in a tailored khaki trench coat, leaned casually against the car door, his phone to his ear. His face was so devastatingly handsome it felt like a crime. Ashley’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, and her voice suddenly turned breathy and sweet. “Carter? It’s me.” 3 There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line. “Who is this? Why do you have Penelope’s phone?” “It’s Ashley. Penelope’s roommate? We met at her birthday party last year.” Carter’s voice immediately cooled. “And?” “And if I hadn’t answered, Penelope was about to hang up on you.” “What is your point?” he asked, his tone clipped. “My point is, she’s not going to get back with you. You should stop wasting your time. You two just aren’t right for each other.” A dry, humorless laugh echoed from the phone. “…And I should be wasting my time on you instead?” Ashley’s smile was audacious, predatory. “You could. I’d let you.” 【OH MY GOD, I SHIP IT! A confident queen who knows what she wants!】 【Yesss, Ashley wants! Ashley gets!】 【If I were Carter, I’d fall for a girl like that in a heartbeat. That kind of confidence is magnetic.】 The silence on Carter’s end stretched on. It was so long I thought he’d hung up. So long that the triumphant smirk on Ashley’s face began to falter. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with a new, intriguing amusement. “Oh?” he said slowly. “Interesting.” Ashley’s eyes lit up, shining like she’d just been handed a galaxy of stars. 【A-H-H-H! HE SAID INTERESTING! HE’S INTO HER!】 【I knew it! Who could possibly resist our brave, straightforward queen?】 【The ice princess must be absolutely losing her mind right now. Hahaha, her little games backfired spectacularly!】 She wasn’t wrong. I was losing my mind. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible fist, a dull, crushing ache that stole my breath. “So… Carter, should I come down?” Ashley asked, her voice trembling with barely concealed excitement. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone crisp and decisive. Ashley ended the call and flashed me a victorious smile, dangling my phone like a trophy. “See, Penelope? This is what men want. That whole ‘playing hard to get’ thing is so last century.” With that, she spun around and began frantically tearing through her closet. “Which one? Is the V-neck too much? No, no, this little white dress. It’s more… innocent.” She shimmied into the dress and quickly applied a full face of makeup with practiced hands. Just before leaving, she paused in front of me and did a little twirl. “What do you think? Do I look good?” I said nothing. She didn’t care. A dismissive smirk played on her lips. “You had your chance, Penelope. Don’t blame me for taking it.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “From now on, Carter is mine.” Then, she clicked out of the room on her heels, a proud peacock off to claim her prize. The comments resumed their relentless assault. 【Go get your man, Ashley!】 【I bet Penelope looks like she just swallowed a gallon of sour milk. LOL.】 【She has no one to blame but herself. Too late for regrets now!】 I walked slowly to the balcony. Below, Ashley had already reached Carter’s car. She was smiling, her face tilted up as she spoke to him animatedly. Carter was looking down at her, a faint smile on his lips, his gaze focused and intent. It was a look I’d never seen from him before. A gentle look. He reached into the trunk, pulled out a single rose, and handed it to her. Ashley took it, her delight obvious. Then, she rose onto her tiptoes and planted a quick, bold kiss on his cheek. The screams from the onlookers intensified. And Carter… he didn’t pull away. He didn’t even flinch. He simply raised a hand and playfully ruffled her hair. My fingers gripped the iron railing of the balcony, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. So this was it. All my pain, all my attempts to be logical and do the right thing—it was all just a joke to him. He wasn’t exclusively mine. He could turn his affection to someone else in a heartbeat. 【Hahaha, she’s watching from the balcony! Seething!】 【Look at her face, it’s like her whole world is ending. So satisfying to watch.】 【Keep looking, bitch. He’s not yours anymore.】 My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text message. It was from Claire, the real Ainsworth. “Did you see that, Penelope? Without the Ainsworth name, you’re nothing. Even Carter doesn’t want you anymore. You must be feeling pretty pathetic right now. It looks good on you.” I stared at the text, then back down at the picture-perfect couple below. Something inside me, something I had been suppressing for weeks, finally shattered. Why? Why was I the one who had to retreat, only to be vilified by everyone? Why did I have to be the one to sacrifice everything for their comfort, only to be left with nothing but scars? Why did they get to steal my entire life and then stand back and laugh at my despair? The comments continued to mock me. 【Just give up. A supporting character should know her place. Just be a stepping stone for the main couple’s love story.】 【Exactly. Why does she have to be so obnoxious?】 They wanted me to suffer. They wanted to see me break down, to watch me hide in a corner and cry. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I turned and walked back into my room, straight to the suitcase I hadn’t fully unpacked. It held the relics of my former life: the most beautiful, most expensive clothes and jewelry I owned. I pulled out a stunning, floor-length red gown Carter had given me for my last birthday. Then, I sat at my small desk, and with a steady hand, I applied the most exquisite, dramatic makeup I knew how. The girl in the mirror was a stranger. Her eyes were sharp, her lips were the color of blood, and she carried herself with the pride of a thorny, untouchable rose. This was Penelope Ainsworth. The girl who had been cherished, who could have anything she ever wanted. They wanted a villain? Fine. I would give them one. I would become the villain who would bring them all to their knees.”

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The year Jocelyn hit rock bottom, her first love shattered her collarbone with a knife—all for a thousand bucks. I was the one who pulled her from the river she tried to drown herself in, giving her a second chance at life. It took her five years to claw her way up, transforming into a business prodigy the city’s elite whispered about in awe. And at the absolute peak of her career, she chose to marry me. Everyone said I was the luckiest man alive. Until our wedding day. Ryan, the ex who had abandoned her, crashed the ceremony and forcibly kissed her in front of everyone. He ripped open his collar, revealing a canvas of ugly, purplish marks. His eyes, full of provocation, locked onto mine. “Has Jocelyn ever played like this with you, Ethan? The night before your wedding, she was in my bed, begging me not to leave.” A chilling cold washed over me, plunging me into an icy abyss. I turned to look at Jocelyn. She just stood there, silent. No denial. No explanation. In that single, deafening moment, I understood everything. 1 Under the stunned gaze of every guest, I slowly withdrew the wedding ring I held in my palm. Jocelyn’s hand shot out, grabbing mine. Her voice was as unnervingly calm as ever. “What’s wrong? Aren’t we continuing the ceremony?” She paid no mind to Ryan’s taunts, nor did she deny a single word he’d said. Her reaction seemed to stun Ryan the most. He began to tremble violently, his face a mask of disbelief and rage. “Jocelyn! Have you forgotten what you said to me yesterday?” He swept his hand across a table, shattering a wine glass. Snatching a shard of glass, he pressed it against his own throat. “If you dare marry him today, I’ll die right here.” The wild movement exposed more of the dark marks blooming across his skin. My mind flashed back to the night before. Jocelyn was a lightweight, which is why I always handled the drinking at business functions. But last night, she’d come home completely wasted. The moment she walked through the door, she was on me, her kisses more desperate and passionate than ever before. “Ethan, it’s you I love, it can only be you…” she murmured against my lips. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me like he did.” She repeated it like a mantra, as if trying to convince me, or maybe herself. Then her phone buzzed, shattering the spell. Her face went pale when she saw the caller ID, and she instinctively pushed me away. I caught her hand, my voice hoarse. “Don’t stop.” She’d never pushed me away like that before. Never. “Our wedding is tomorrow. You need to rest,” she said, her voice suddenly distant. “Something came up at the office. I have to take care of it.” She leaned in, giving me a quick, almost chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth before hurrying out. She never came home that night. Now, I clenched my fist around the ring. The diamond bit into my flesh, the sharp sting a brutal confirmation that this was no nightmare. The old Jocelyn would have had anyone who disrupted her wedding dragged out and destroyed. But this Jocelyn simply held out her hand, stubbornly waiting for me to place the ring on her finger. “This is our wedding day. Don’t make a scene,” she whispered, her eyes flashing with a warning. “Ignore him. He doesn’t have the guts to actually do it. Let’s just finish the ceremony.” Her dismissive tone was the final straw for Ryan. He completely lost it, smashing decorations, his voice cracking as he screamed through his tears. “I won’t let you marry him! You promised me! Yesterday, you told me marrying Ethan was just your way of repaying a debt!” Jocelyn’s expression hardened. She finally shot Ryan a look, but only to signal her bodyguards to remove him. “He wants to die,” I said, my voice flat as I stepped forward, blocking the bodyguards’ path. “Why not let him?” I put the ring back in my pocket and turned to Jocelyn. “Does your promise to me still stand?” The day Ryan came back into her life, the day he found out I was her fiancé, he’d ambushed me on the street and stabbed me three times. I nearly bled out on the pavement. Jocelyn had sworn to me then, promised me that if I ever saw him again, I could settle the score myself. This time, I didn’t wait for her answer. I grabbed a steak knife from a nearby table and plunged it into Ryan’s stomach. Blood bloomed from the wound, dripping onto the pristine white floor. Gasps echoed through the hall. Jocelyn, who had been so composed, finally broke. Her face contorted in panic. She rushed to Ryan’s side, frantically checking his injury before whirling on me, her voice a venomous hiss. “Ethan! What the hell are you doing?” Her face was a thundercloud as she announced the wedding was postponed indefinitely. Then, without another glance at me, she helped Ryan out of the hall and rushed him to the hospital. The bride was gone. The wedding was a wreck. The officiant stood awkwardly on the stage. Watching her leave without a moment’s hesitation, a sharp, splintering pain pierced my heart. I let the bloody knife clatter to the floor. Jocelyn could walk away. Fine. But that meant my bride could be replaced, too. 2 Jocelyn’s assistant picked me up and drove me to the hospital. As the city lights blurred past the window, the last five years with her replayed in my mind like a phantom film. Before she met me, Jocelyn had nothing. Ryan had taken her last bit of money, breaking her collarbone in the process, all during the year she needed him most. I was the one who stood by her, who guided her to where she is today. I was the one who drank myself into stomach surgery just to land her a career-making deal. We endured five brutal years together, and she finally became the powerhouse she’d always dreamed of being. And then, Ryan came back. When I arrived at the hospital, I found Jocelyn pacing frantically outside the operating room, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. The moment she saw me, her panic vanished, replaced by a cold mask. She strode toward me, opening her mouth to speak, but then she met my gaze and lowered her voice. “Ethan, that was all in the past. I already punished him. Why can’t you just let it go?” she demanded, her voice tight with suppressed anger. “Don’t you realize that if he dies, you’ll be a murderer?” She was trying so hard to control her fury, her knuckles white as she gripped the fabric of her dress, her eyes darting back to the closed doors of the OR. A bitter smile twisted my lips. I lifted my shirt, revealing the three jagged, ugly scars that marred my abdomen. “So this is just ‘the past’ to you?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Do you have any idea how close I was to dying when he gave me these? You were the one who knelt by my hospital bed, swearing to me that if I ever saw him again, I could get my own justice.” Her promise was the only reason I’d signed the settlement, the only reason I’d agreed not to press charges. After that, Ryan had disappeared. I thought he was gone for good, but it turned out Jocelyn had been in contact with him all along. “I stabbed him once,” I said, my voice hollow. “And you’re already falling apart.” Jocelyn rubbed her temples, her frustration boiling over. “What do you want from me? I’ve finally secured my position in this city. Do you expect me to just stand by and watch you go to prison for murder?” She sighed, a long, weary sound, as if my actions today were nothing more than an inconvenience. “We’ve come so far. Can you please just stop making trouble?” “Good,” I said, my voice cold. “Since the wedding’s off anyway, this makes things simpler. If you want to rekindle things with your first love, I won’t stand in your way.” Her eyes turned to ice. The disappointment in them was a physical blow. “Is the wedding all you can think about right now? Is it that hard for you to admit you were wrong? There’s nothing going on between me and Ryan. Can’t you trust me for once? I just don’t want to see you resort to violence. If you actually killed him, what would I do?” Her words were so absurd I almost laughed. Before I could respond, the doors to the operating room swung open. A doctor pushed Ryan out on a gurney. “The wound wasn’t too deep. You got him here just in time. He’s out of danger now.” Jocelyn stared at Ryan’s pale face, her brow furrowed with worry. She reached out, her fingers gently tracing his cheek. Then, she took the knife—the same one I’d used at the wedding—from her assistant. Before I could process what was happening, she raised it to her own collarbone and slashed. Twice. Droplets of her blood spattered onto my face. I stood frozen, watching the color drain from her cheeks as crimson bloomed across the pristine white of her wedding dress. “Are you satisfied now?” she hissed, her voice trembling with pain and fury. “I’ve paid his debt with these two cuts. Now, you will leave him alone.” I closed my eyes, a dry, burning sensation behind them. “Fine,” I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. “We’re getting a divorce. From now on, we’re strangers.” 3 Jocelyn never came home after that. She stayed at the hospital, by Ryan’s side, for as long as he was there. I didn’t try to contact her. Instead, I had my lawyer deliver the divorce papers to her office. I also called the wedding planner and told them to change the bride’s name on the invitations. It was about time for my new bride to arrive, anyway. I glanced at the calendar on the wall, at the date circled in red. Today was also the anniversary of my sister’s death. “Lily,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the glass of the picture frame. “Jocelyn has changed. The person you saved… she doesn’t want me anymore.” My sister, Lily, had been Jocelyn’s best friend. When Jocelyn’s career was just taking off, a rival sabotaged them. They planted a bomb in their car. In the split second before the explosion, Lily shoved Jocelyn out of the vehicle. Lily was blown to pieces. There was nothing left to bury. After that, Jocelyn and I never spoke of her death. With the first money she ever made, Jocelyn bought her a plot in the city’s most beautiful cemetery. Every year, on this day, we would visit her together. But this year, I was alone. I held a bouquet of lavender, Lily’s favorite, and headed to the cemetery, a strange sense of dread coiling in my stomach. When I arrived, the place was swarming with men in black suits. Jocelyn’s bodyguards. My heart hammered against my ribs. I shoved my way through them, my blood running cold. The sight that greeted me almost drove me insane. “Dig faster. Get the urn out,” Jocelyn commanded her men. She stood over my sister’s grave, watching as they unearthed it with shovels. Once the urn was out, one of her men handed it to Ryan. The next second, with a triumphant, vicious smirk, Ryan smashed the urn on the ground. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” “Jocelyn, have you lost your mind?! THIS IS LILY’S GRAVE!” My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees. I scrambled forward, my hands trembling as I tried to scoop up my sister’s ashes from the mud. Jocelyn hadn’t expected me. She shot an irritated glare at her assistant. “I told you to keep him away.” She reached down to help me up, but I slapped her hand away. “Lily DIED for you! How could you do this? Aren’t you afraid of the consequences?!” I roared, fighting back tears, trying desperately not to let them fall and mix with the ashes. The wind was cruel, scattering what little remained. In the end, all I had was a handful of gray dust. Beside her, Ryan draped an arm around Jocelyn’s shoulders, his expression oozing with smug satisfaction. “Joce, you promised you’d grant my wish, remember?” A tremor ran through me. I slowly, stiffly, raised my head to look at her. A year ago, she had chosen this very spot for Lily, posting guards to ensure she would never be disturbed. And now, because of a single sentence from Ryan, she had dug up her grave. Jocelyn didn’t seem to think she’d done anything wrong. She knelt in front of me, her voice soft, almost gentle. “Lily’s been gone for so long, Ethan. She’s probably been reincarnated by now.” “I’ll build her a new, better memorial later.” “Ryan promised me,” she continued, her voice pleading, “that if I did this one thing for him, he would leave me alone for good. Then I can finally be with you, with no distractions.” The veins in my temples throbbed. I stared at her, my voice a low, guttural snarl. “You are pathetic, Jocelyn. Ryan would break your bones for a thousand dollars, and you’re still obsessed with him.” “I should have let you die in that river.” My voice was raw. I pushed myself to my feet, ready to lunge at Ryan, ready to kill them both right here. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to see them both dead. But the next sound wasn’t my own scream of rage. It was the deafening crack of a gunshot echoing through the cemetery.

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After my billionaire-family brother found me—the true heiress—I’d already been scavenging for eight years. He crushed my cardboard pile with his polished shoe as I gnawed on spoiled rice from a dumpster. “Aria has cancer,” he said flatly, hiding disgust. “I’ll bring you home after she’s gone.” I just nodded cheerfully. On his birthday, I spent my last money on his gift and flowers for Aria. Approaching the house, I heard him reassure her softly: “Flora will never know your cancer is fake. We can stall three, even five years. She can survive without me—but you can’t.” He blew out his candles and wished, “May Aria stay by my brother forever.” I walked away without entering. His wish came true—I didn’t have five years. Three days after I died, a viral video titled “Eighteen Years: A Cancer Patient’s Entire Life” spread online. 1 My brother had just given Aria a bracelet worth five million dollars. Her delighted laughter echoed from the grand villa. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb their happiness. The moment I stepped outside the gates, I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A mouthful of blood spewed from my lips, splattering across the gift in my hands. It was just a cheap watch, but the sight of it stained made my heart ache. I had spent three months collecting cardboard to afford it. I frantically tried to wipe the blood away, but my eyes caught a pile of cardboard next to a trash can, and professional habit kicked in. I had just bent down to grab it when a man holding a camera stepped in front of me, the lens practically shoved in my face. “‘Exploring the Underclass,’ episode three! What do you say, folks? Should we follow this little scrap-picker for the day?” The man was clean-cut and handsome, but something in his eyes made my skin crawl. “No, no, absolutely not!” I waved my hands frantically. He simply pulled out his phone and showed me a payment QR code. “Five hundred bucks for a day’s filming. I’ll pay you at the end.” Trash-picking could wait. Making money couldn’t. I scanned the code so fast I was afraid he’d take it back, tell me it was all a joke. The man lowered the camera for a second and sneered. “Her eyes sure light up at the sight of money.” I just grinned back at him like a fool. The truth is, money is useless to the dying. It’s for the living. And I didn’t have many days left. “My name is Kai,” he said. “I’m a vlogger who makes documentaries about the poor.” “You’re skin and bones. Must be starving. Let’s get you something to eat!” There was a calculating excitement in his voice as he dragged me towards the most expensive restaurant in the area. The gilded, opulent building would be the perfect backdrop to highlight a poor girl’s pathetic state, guaranteed to rack up clicks and controversy. Just as he’d hoped, I clutched the hem of my washed-out shirt, my voice timid. “That’s… that’s a place for rich people. I’ve never been inside.” A triumphant smirk played on Kai’s lips. He could already see the video going viral. Heh. I was lying. I came here all the time. Covered in grime, I’d scavenge through the dumpsters out back, watching my brother lead a princess-like Aria inside for dinner. Every night, the restaurant would throw out the leftovers. I’d be there waiting, squatting by the door for my “lucky feast.” Once, I hit the jackpot. I found a necklace in the scraps. It was a gift from my brother to Aria, her name engraved on the back. She’d tossed it because she thought the style was outdated. Shamelessly, I picked it up and put it on, admiring my reflection in the grimy mirror of a public restroom. I pretended… I pretended he had given it to me. I was still lost in the memory when Kai half-pushed, half-pulled me inside. The moment we sat down, his camera was back in my face. “You look so young. Why are you picking through trash? Don’t you have a family?” I held up two fingers, a strange pride in my voice. “I’ve had two families…” I paused, thinking of my brother, and raised a third finger. “No, wait. Three.” Kai raised an eyebrow, his tone mocking. “Three? Shouldn’t you be the happiest girl in the world then?” A lump formed in my throat. I started to tell him about my first family. “When I was five, I was sold by traffickers to an old, childless couple in the mountains.” Because I was a girl, I was cheap. The daughter of the city’s wealthiest man, sold for a mere thousand yuan. But in those backwoods villages where sons were prized above all else, being a girl was a sin. 2 My days were an endless cycle of herding sheep and finishing chores. They ate meat, but never shared any with me. All I got were potatoes. One for breakfast, one for lunch, half for dinner. When the hunger was unbearable, I’d beg from the other villagers. One man made me kowtow and call him grandpa before tossing me a stale bun. Another kicked me over and told me to get lost. At night, I slept in the sheep pen. In the winter, with no blanket, I’d press myself against the sheep for warmth. Through the low-set windows, the faces of the family I barely remembered would flicker in my tear-filled eyes. I tilted my head back, forcing the tears down, and put on a brave smile. “You know, whenever I thought I was going to freeze or starve to death, I would dream of my mom, my dad, and my brother,” I boasted. “They were so good to me. My parents would give me my favorite toys, and my brother would hold me in his arms and call me his ‘little treasure.’” The mocking smile on Kai’s face froze. The food arrived—all the restaurant’s signature dishes. He placed a piece of pork rib on my plate. “Let’s eat,” he said, his voice a little strained. I fought back the nausea churning in my stomach and shook my head with a hint of defiance. “I don’t eat meat.” Kai blinked, then burst out laughing. “A little beggar who’s a picky eater? You don’t eat meat?” I chuckled along with him, but tears welled up in my eyes. “At my adoptive parents’ house,” I began, “even their dog, Big Yellow, felt sorry for me. He would always leave me half of his food.” I was one step away from calling that dog my big brother. Thanks to him, I finally wasn’t starving anymore. To show my gratitude, I scrubbed his food bowl clean every single day until it shone. The first time I tasted meat was when my adoptive parents threw me a bone they had already gnawed clean. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. I chewed on it until my face was greasy. Then, my adoptive father smiled at me, his yellow teeth like gravestones. “Tastes good, doesn’t it? That’s Big Yellow. We got a good twenty pounds of meat off him.” The half-chewed piece of meat lodged in my throat. I clawed at my own neck, gagging and retching until I was spitting up bile. “After that,” I finished, pushing the plate away with a flourish, “I never touched meat again. Even when I could get it. I just… quit.” Kai stared at the pork rib, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What happened after that?” “After that…” I rested my chin in my hand, my tone light. “That night, my adoptive father crept into the sheep pen. He started pulling at my clothes. Luckily, I was brave and clever. I grabbed a rake and cracked him over the head with it!” “He got really mad and said he was going to strangle me, but I squeezed through a hole in the wall that Big Yellow had dug before… you know. My dog brother saved me one last time.” I told the story as if it were nothing, but Kai’s eyes were turning red. He violently waved over a waiter. “Take all the meat dishes away! Bring us all vegetarian plates!” The waiter looked bewildered. Kai exploded. “What are you waiting for? Can’t you see this girl is starving?” I ate until I was full, patting my round belly with a satisfied burp. As we were leaving, I stopped the waiter. “Don’t throw those meat dishes out. Please pack them up for me.” At my words, the flicker of sympathy in Kai’s eyes instantly turned to suspicion. He aimed the camera at me, his voice dripping with contempt. “There it is. The act couldn’t last, could it? Tells a sob story about not eating meat, then turns around and asks for a doggy bag. What a little liar.” I ignored him, carefully scraping every last morsel of meat into the takeout containers. After the meal, Kai insisted on filming at my “home.” The car pulled up to a desolate garbage dump. In the center stood the burnt-out frame of a shack, patches of early winter snow still clinging to the broken roof tiles. That was my home. Just as I got out of the car, my phone rang. It was one of the students I sponsored. “Sister, I got the money. But it’s too much! Are you sure you have enough for yourself?” I puffed out my chest, my voice loud and proud. “Of course! Your sister is rich! I’m a billionaire’s daughter! I live in a huge mansion, drive a convertible, and eat gourmet food every day. Don’t you worry about me.” Kai looked around the foul-smelling dump, pinching his nose. “This trash heap… this is your ‘huge mansion’?” “It’s huge, isn’t it?” He kicked the tire of my three-wheeled cart, the one I used to haul trash. “And I suppose this is your ‘convertible’?” “Never gets stuck in traffic. Eco-friendly.” He scoffed. “And the ‘gourmet food’? I guess that part’s true. Scraps from a dumpster that not even a dog would touch!” “Waste not, want not,” I shot back. “Tch,” he muttered. “Too proud for your own good.” His condescending tone lasted until he glanced at my phone and saw the transfer history. The five hundred dollars he had just sent me… I had forwarded every last cent to that student. 3 His hand, holding the camera, faltered. He followed me into the burnt-out shack in silence. The inside was bare, but spotlessly clean. The walls were covered with donation certificates. The most prominent item was an old, yellowed certificate for “First Place in Class.” Kai squinted, adding up the amounts on the certificates. “Holy crap… you’ve donated a grand total of one hundred and five thousand, three hundred seventy-two dollars and sixty-three cents?” “Some of that was from my grandma,” I corrected him. “You have a grandmother?” he asked, surprised. “She was my second family.” When I was ten, I escaped my adoptive father’s clutches but nearly froze to death on the streets. An old woman who also collected scraps found me and took me in. She declared the day she found me to be my new birthday. I finally had a home again. Grandma sponsored a lot of students with the money she made from collecting scraps. That’s why, after a lifetime of doing it, she was still poor. But every day, she made sure I had milk and an egg. She said it would help me grow tall. I’d try to get her to eat some too, but she’d just shake her head and say she’d already eaten. Grandma was a liar. I knew she was living on cold, hard buns. So I became a liar, too. I’d pretend I had a small appetite, throw a little tantrum, and “waste” half my milk and egg in the trash can. She would always pick them out later and eat every last bit. “So what’s with the certificate?” Kai asked. “I didn’t go to school for a single day during the five years with my adoptive parents. But the day after Grandma found me, she enrolled me. She always used to say, ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if our little Flora could get first place?’” I studied like my life depended on it. And on my thirteenth birthday, I did it. I got first place. I ran all the way home. When I pushed open the door, I saw a hot meal on the table and a tiny little cake. But Grandma was lying on the floor. She never woke up. The doctor said if I had brought her in just half an hour earlier, she would have been fine. “I came home at the same time every single day. That was the only day I was late… by half an hour… because I waited to get my first-place certificate.” The memory was a familiar weight, crushing my heart all over again. My name is Flora, but it feels like happiness has always been just out of my reach. “That was the only time in my life I ever got first place,” I whispered. “And she never got to see it.” “I believe that education can change your destiny. But after Grandma died, I was afraid no one would look after the students she sponsored. So I dropped out of school, took over her route, and kept picking trash to pay for their education. I just hope they can be happy one day.” “It doesn’t matter, though,” I said, waving a hand dismissively, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to comfort. “Knowledge just turned me from a happy pig into a miserable Socrates. I think I’d rather be the pig.” Kai’s hand was shaking so much he could barely hold the camera. He opened his mouth to say something, but I suddenly remembered. I wiped my tears, grabbed a stainless-steel basin, and ran outside, banging it like a gong. “Dinner time!” From all corners of the dump, stray cats and dogs appeared, rubbing against my legs affectionately. I carefully divided the meat dishes I’d brought back into a dozen broken bowls and watched them devour the food. “Don’t fight, there’s enough for everyone.” Kai stared at me, dumbfounded. “You packed up the food… for them?” “Yep. This is my crew,” I said, beaming with pride. His face turned beet red. He fumbled for his phone. “I’m so sorry, I…” “I’m sending you another five thousand!” he blurted out, then quickly spoke to his camera. “And this isn’t for show, I swear.” My eyes lit up at the transfer notification. I started counting on my fingers. “Okay, so that means I have to film with you for ten more days.” Ten days. I should… I should still be alive for ten more days. “What about your third family?” Kai’s tone had become gentle, almost cautious. I looked up at the sky, trying to remember. “I guess they were really my first family. I was born to the wealthiest man in the city. But when I was five, my brother was being dragged away by a kidnapper. I tried to save him, and they threw me in the van instead.” Kai’s jaw dropped. “You were kidnapped because you were trying to save your brother?!” 4 He whipped out his phone and started typing furiously, quickly pulling up news articles about the city’s richest family. “The Sterling family, city’s wealthiest tycoon… your parents passed away a few years after you went missing. They said it was from heartbreak.” “But then your brother… he must have been looking for you this whole time. After all…” His voice trailed off as he came across an article about Aria. “Six years ago, your brother, Jared Sterling, adopted a girl. He named her Aria and treats her as if she were his own flesh and blood…” His voice got quieter and quieter. I gave him a sad smile. “Funny, isn’t it? My real brother found me, and he still didn’t want me.” “Then why didn’t you go find him?!” Kai yelled. I just smiled, a tear tracing a path through the grime on my cheek. “I was too scared.” Besides, I was out of time. Kai was furious. He grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the road, determined to confront my brother. He was so enraged he forgot his camera, his hand just gripping mine tightly. For a dizzying moment, the warmth of his hand felt just like my brother’s, from a lifetime ago. As we stood before the opulent gates of the Sterling mansion, a ridiculous sliver of hope bloomed in my chest. Would he let me stay? The butler led us inside. As we approached the study, we heard Aria’s voice, whining and tearful. “But what if Flora throws a fit and demands to come back? Will you get rid of me then, brother?” Jared’s voice was warm, laced with a smile. “I’ve raised you for six years. Don’t you know me by now? I would get rid of Flora before I ever got rid of you.” “You bastard, Jared!” Kai roared, kicking the door open. The air in the room froze. Jared didn’t even bother to look up, his voice dangerously calm. “Kai, isn’t it? I’ve looked into you. A minor influencer who fakes everything for clicks. What is it you want?” Kai lunged forward, but I held him back. “The whole house is full of bodyguards. You’ll get hurt.” He gritted his teeth, pointing a shaking finger at my brother. “I might have faked things for money, but there are some lines I won’t cross. But you? You’re loaded, yet you let your own sister eat out of trash cans on the street! You’re worse than an animal!” Jared let out a cold laugh, his gaze landing on me like a shard of ice. “Is it money you want?” Before I could say no, Aria rushed forward and yanked at the necklace around my neck. “Isn’t this mine? It even has my name on it! You stole from me!” I clutched it desperately. “No, I found it!” Terrified that Jared would find out she’d thrown it away, she doubled down, screeching that I was a thief, clawing at my hands. In the struggle, my nail accidentally scratched the back of her hand. SLAP! Jared was on me in an instant, his hand connecting with my cheek in a brutal slap. “So this is what happens when you’re not raised right. No manners at all. You steal, and you think you’re justified?” I just stood there, stunned. The burning pain on my face spread straight to my heart. Kai screamed in rage and tried to throw a punch, but two bodyguards slammed him to the floor. Jared pulled out a thick wad of cash and threw it at my face. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Here, take it!” he snarled. “I told you I’d take you in after Aria was gone. Did you have to disgust us like this?” The bills fluttered down around me. A sudden, coppery taste filled my mouth. A mouthful of blood sprayed from my lips, splattering across the scattered bills in a sickeningly bright red. Oh. Maybe I don’t even have ten days left.

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In my last life, I fought stray dogs for scraps in an alley. I died there, too, with a restaurant owner’s boot against my temple for trying to steal a piece of bread. The next time I opened my eyes, I was the long-lost daughter of a family so rich they smelled like money. The girl who had taken my place—my place—looked at me with pure venom in her pretty eyes. “You’re just a stray they dragged in off the street,” she hissed. “Don’t even think about trying to steal Mom and Dad’s affection from me.” No one had ever spoken to me from that close before. The sound of it, the feeling of her breath, was a gift. I broke into a wide, happy smile and told her the honest truth. “Your voice is so beautiful.” Later, when a lie got me cornered and my new mother raised her hand to slap me, I didn’t flinch. I closed my eyes and breathed in, mesmerized. “Your hand smells so nice, Mom,” I whispered. “Even the little breeze it makes smells like perfume.” And when my new brother shoved his glass of milk at me—the milk he refused to drink—my heart swelled with a warmth I’d never known. So this is what it feels like to be cared for by a brother. But eventually, everything changed. When they saw me later, beaten and kneeling on the ground, trembling in fear before a bully, my new family finally broke. 1 The last thing I knew was the toe of a boot connecting with my temple. The pain was a white-hot flash, then nothing. A shame. I never got a single bite of that hot food. You shouldn’t steal. I groaned, my head throbbing like a drum, and blinked my eyes open. I wasn’t in the alley anymore. I was in a car. A clean one. Seeing me awake, the driver glanced in the rearview mirror, a sneer twisting his lips. I heard him mutter, “Kid from the sticks. First time in a real car and she just passes out.” A jolt of pure terror shot through me. I instinctively scrambled back, pressing myself into the corner of the leather seat. “Where—where are you taking me?” My voice was a useless, trembling thing. My whole body shook. I’d had run-ins with men like this before, men who wanted to grab you. I’d fought them off, gotten beaten for it, and had to run for my life. But when I spoke, the driver’s disdain vanished, replaced by a wide, unnerving smile. “Don’t you worry, Miss. I’m your family’s driver. The moment Mrs. Ashworth heard they’d found you, she got the whole family together. They’re all waiting for you.” The words made no sense, but then a flood of memories—memories that weren’t mine—rushed into my head, sharp and painful as needles. I was the real daughter, the one who’d been stolen and swapped at birth. The girl who had taken my place was the biological child of the couple who’d raised her. She had lived my life for over a decade. She had a beautiful name: Stella Ashworth. She had parents who adored her, a brother who protected her. She had the life of a princess, never wanting for anything. Not like the girl whose body I now inhabited. Her name was a cruel joke: Grace. Thrown away, then found by a family that used her as a workhorse. This girl, Grace, had never been to a single day of school in her life. For as long as she could remember, she’d never had a full meal. She cut grass for the pigs, washed clothes for a family that wasn’t hers, and spent every other waking moment doing back-breaking farm labor. She was sun-darkened and painfully thin, a girl folded in on herself with shame, who never spoke. When she learned the truth—that she was the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family—the shock and excitement of getting into this car had triggered a fatal heart condition. She had closed her eyes and never opened them again. The realization hit me, and tears of guilt streamed down my face. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I got here. She was supposed to have this. She was seconds away from having the life she deserved. I huddled in the corner, my hand clamped over my mouth to stifle my sobs. I was just a pathetic little stray who’d been kicked to death over a piece of stolen food. I didn’t know how to get out of this body, but if there was any chance the real Grace could come back, maybe… maybe I could just have a few full meals before I had to leave. 2 The car glided to a stop. I stumbled out, dazed. Before me stood a house so enormous it looked like it had swallowed the sun. Three figures were waiting on the porch. A beautiful girl stood in the middle, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears. As I crept closer, a boy, tall and angry-looking, wrapped his arm around her. “Don’t worry, Stella,” he said loudly, for my benefit. “No one in this house is going to hurt you.” How nice, I thought. He seems like a good brother. Then the boy—Caleb—turned his glare on me, his brow furrowing in disgust. “This can’t be my sister. She looks like some beggar they pulled off the street.” A tremor went through me. I instinctively darted behind the woman standing beside him. For some reason, I felt a pull toward her. She must be the original Grace’s mother. My lip trembled. I apologized again to the girl whose life I’d stolen. Please, just let me call her Mom once. “Mom…” I whispered. The woman, Mrs. Ashworth, flinched and subtly shifted away, breaking our proximity. Her smile was tight and awkward. “You must be Grace,” she said, nodding stiffly. “Welcome home, dear.” Hearing those words, “welcome home,” I couldn’t stop myself from nodding back, my eyes welling up with tears of gratitude. It was real. I had a home. Stella walked over, her soft, pale hand taking mine. Her smile was bright. “I guess that makes you my sister,” she said. “Welcome home, Grace.” I managed a small, shy smile in return. She seemed nice, too. As we all turned to go inside, Stella looked back at me, her round, almond-shaped eyes now hard as marbles. “A word of advice,” she whispered, her voice a sliver of ice. “Don’t get any ideas. You can’t win against me.” I just stared at her perfect face, then dropped my gaze to the ground, ashamed. “You’re so beautiful,” I said, my voice barely audible. “And your voice is so pretty.” Stella froze, momentarily thrown. Then a cynical smirk crossed her lips. “Psycho,” she muttered, and walked away. Inside, I didn’t know where to stand. The place was immaculate. The floors were so polished they reflected the lights like a mirror, making me feel even dirtier and more out of place. “Grace, you arrived so suddenly, we haven’t had time to prepare a room for you,” Stella said, rubbing her eyes as if fighting back tears. Her voice was filled with guilt. “It’s all my fault. Please don’t blame Mom. It’s okay, you can take my room. I’ll sleep in the storage closet.” Caleb’s face darkened. “Stella, don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “You’ve been pampered your whole life. You can’t sleep in a place like that.” He turned his disgusted gaze back to me. “You stink. You can stay in the storage room for a few nights until we figure things out.” I nodded immediately, not daring to hesitate. “Okay. Thank you.” Mrs. Ashworth had looked like she was about to say something, but seeing how compliant I was, she simply let it go. They led me to a small room on the first floor. Inside, there was a clean cot, a small nightstand with a lamp, and not much else. The air was a little musty, and the room was dark, but it was the single nicest place I had ever slept in my entire life. I turned back to them and bowed deeply from the waist. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much.” 3 They all just stared at me. Seeing their stunned silence, I worried my thanks hadn’t been enough. For a gift this great, for a roof over my head, I should be on my knees. Without another thought, I dropped to the floor, my knees hitting the polished wood with a soft thud. I pressed my forehead to the ground in a gesture of ultimate gratitude. This time, my cold, distant brother reacted. He sprang forward, almost instinctively, and hauled me to my feet. His brow was so deeply furrowed you could lose a coin in it. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Nobody asked you to do that.” I rubbed my eyes, secretly cataloging their kindness in my heart. That evening, the family gathered for dinner. My stomach was aching with hunger. Before Mrs. Ashworth could even say a word, I had grabbed a dinner roll from the basket and was stuffing it into my mouth with my bare hands. Caleb slammed his hand on the table. “Have you no manners?” he barked. “Use a fork, for God’s sake!” I picked up the heavy silver fork, my hand clumsy, and tried to spear a piece of chicken. I’d never really used utensils before. I knew I must look hideous, mangling the food on my plate. After a few failed attempts, I reluctantly set the fork down. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words automatic. “Please don’t make me leave.” Mrs. Ashworth’s expression, which had been one of pure distaste, softened slightly. She let out a long, heavy sigh and placed a few pieces of roasted potato on my plate herself. “Don’t just eat bread,” she said, her voice strained. “Take whatever you want. Anna, could you please bring Grace a spoon?” Stella jumped up. “I’ll get it!” she chirped, and ran to the kitchen. But as she returned, she “tripped,” sending the spoon flying through the air. It hit me squarely in the cheek, and the momentum knocked my plate off the table, where it shattered on the floor. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Grace!” Stella cried, her eyes wide and bright, as if she were waiting for a specific reaction. “I was just in such a hurry! Are you okay?” But I didn’t feel the sting on my face. All I could see was the food—the precious, perfect food—scattered across the floor among the porcelain shards. My heart broke. I dropped to my knees and began picking up the larger pieces of potato, shoving them into my mouth. Tears of panic streamed down my face. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I sobbed. “I can still eat it. It’s clean.” The floor was clean. For years, the cleanest food I ever ate was the leftovers a restaurant owner would scrape into the trash. Most days, I ate from garbage cans. If I was lucky, I’d find a half-eaten sandwich. When the hunger got bad enough, I’d swallow my pride and fight the alley cats for the food kind strangers left out for them. I’d tried the kibble once or twice. It was crunchy, salty, and tasted like fish. My desperation must have terrified Stella. The crocodile tears she’d prepared froze in her eyes. For the first time, she looked completely at a loss. It was Mrs. Ashworth who finally broke the spell. She pulled me up from the floor, and as she lifted me, she seemed to startle at how light I was. Stella and I were the same age, yet she was a head taller than me. I was a stunted, malnourished gargoyle, a living testament to a life of unimaginable hardship. A flicker of pain crossed Mrs. Ashworth’s face before she suppressed it. She took me to the sink and gently washed my hands. Her voice was softer now. “From now on, don’t eat things off the floor. It’s not clean, and you’ll get a stomachache. You’ll rest at home for a few days, and then you can start school with your brother and sister.” I was staring, mesmerized, at her face. But when I heard the word “school,” my whole world lit up. I was going to learn how to read. 4 After a few days, I started to adjust. One morning, Caleb scowled at the glass of milk in front of him. “Milk every single day. I’m going to puke.” He made a gagging motion. I was walking past the table just then. Caleb’s eyes flicked toward me. A sly smile spread across his face. “Hey, Grace. Want some milk?” He smirked. “You can have mine.” I stopped, my heart pounding. “Really?” I asked, my voice filled with disbelief. “Thank you, Caleb!” I beamed at him. “You’re so nice.” Caleb blinked, taken aback. “I can’t tell if you’re for real or just crazy,” he muttered, shaking his head. I just gave him a shy smile, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. He pushed the tall, cold glass toward me. I swallowed hard, picked it up, and drank it all down in a few big gulps. It was sweet, with a creamy vanilla flavor. So this is what milk tasted like when it wasn’t expired. I tapped my chest, feeling a burp coming on. Just then, Stella walked by and bumped into me, jarring the burp right out. I looked at her with gratitude. My brother was nice. My sister was nice, too. Caleb was in tenth grade, while Stella and I were in eighth, in different classes. The teacher told me to stand at the front of the room and introduce myself. I hadn’t expected this. My throat went dry. I stood there, swallowing repeatedly, my mind a complete blank. The teacher tapped her desk impatiently. “Come on, now. Don’t waste everyone’s time.” Her sharp tone made me jump, and the words lodged even deeper in my throat. A few students in the back started to snicker. “Just say something! You shaking so hard you’re gonna wet yourself?” “Is that even a girl? She’s built like a twig.” “Look at her clothes. What a hick. Can’t even talk.” The insults washed over me, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I’d had a few comfortable days at the Ashworths’ house, and I’d almost forgotten. This was what my life was supposed to feel like. “I’m sorr—” Before I could finish my apology, the teacher waved her hand dismissively. “Never mind. We don’t have time for this. There are two empty seats in the back. One is next to our class president, Ethan. The other is next to… Ryder,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain as she gestured toward a boy with dyed-blond hair slouched in his seat. “Just find a spot and sit down so I can start the lesson.” I scurried away from the front of the class, breathing a sigh of relief. The class president. He must be a very good person. 5 I walked quickly to the back of the room and stood beside Ethan’s desk, waiting for him to let me into the empty seat by the window. The other students watched me with malicious curiosity. Ethan, however, just smiled—a perfect, practiced smile—and graciously waved me in. He was handsome, in a clean-cut, slender way. I felt my cheeks flush. Once the class lost interest, I pulled out my brand-new textbook and ran my hand over the glossy cover again and again. I’d never been to school. I could barely recognize a few letters. But I was too afraid to admit that, too afraid to disappoint my new family. I would just have to try my best to follow along. Ten minutes into the lesson, the teacher started passing out a worksheet from the front row. “Pop quiz. You have twenty minutes.” My heart sank. When the paper landed on my desk, I stared at it in horror. Aside from the numbers, I couldn’t understand a single word. It was the longest, most excruciating twenty minutes of my life. Before, I had been ashamed of my past, of being homeless, of eating garbage. But I had never felt a shame as profound and all-consuming as this: the shame of my own ignorance. I didn’t know anything. I wrote down a few random numbers and handed in my paper. When the bell rang, I felt a desperate urge to cry. I needed to find Stella, to talk to someone. I leaned toward Ethan. “Excuse me,” I whispered. “Can I get out, please?” He didn’t move. His slender fingers turned the page of a book, his focus absolute. “Hello? I need to get by.” He still didn’t acknowledge me. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hear me. He was deliberately ignoring me. I pressed my lips together and sank back into my seat. The next class began. It didn’t take long for the teacher to grade the short quiz. She stood at the front of the room, her face a thundercloud, and began reading out the scores from highest to lowest. My head sank lower and lower, my heart pounding in my chest. Please don’t say my name… please don’t say my name… Just as I thought I might be safe, the teacher’s voice boomed through the classroom. “Grace! Stand up.” I flinched and shakily got to my feet. She slapped the blackboard with her pointer. “Nine percent! Class, our new student, Grace, has just set a new record low for this class, single-handedly dragging down our class average.” “Let’s give her a round of applause.” A smattering of clapping mixed with cruel laughter filled the room. I kept my head down, tears dripping silently onto my desk. My chest felt tight, aching with a sour pain. “I’m sorry…” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 6 No one was listening. The teacher made me stand for the rest of the period. I just stood by my chair, silent tears tracking paths down my dusty cheeks. Every now and then, a student would turn around to smirk at me, and I would duck my head even lower, digging my nails into my palms. When the bell finally rang, I couldn’t wait to escape. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t meant for school. This place was terrifying. I didn’t want to come back. “Hello,” I said to Ethan, my voice hoarse. “Can you please let me out?” He ignored me again, turning to chat and laugh with the student next to him. I wiped my tears. My only option was to try and climb over his desk. But as I moved, he shot out an arm, blocking me. He looked at me, his face cold, his eyes filled with a familiar malice. “You’ll get my books dirty.” Without a word, I slowly got down on my knees. As Ethan watched with a smug, raised eyebrow, I crawled out from under his legs. “Oh my god, look! She’s crawling through the class president’s legs!” someone shouted. The classroom erupted in laughter. A few kids even came closer, laughing loudly right next to my ear. It’s okay, I told myself. It’s okay. This wasn’t new. When I was on the streets, kids my age used to throw rocks at me. When I couldn’t get away, they’d make me crawl between their legs. If they were in a good mood, they might even toss me a quarter. Just as I scrambled to my feet, I looked up and saw Stella walking past the classroom door. Our eyes met. I managed a weak, hopeful smile. It’s my sister. Stella’s eyes went wide. Then, she twisted her face away in disgust and hurried down the hall. 7 I hid in the bathroom until the final bell rang. When I got home, I locked myself in my little room and took out my new books, trying to sound out the words one by one. But I was too stupid. Nothing made sense. I was so consumed by my failure that I barely touched my food at dinner. Tears, like broken pearls, fell from my eyes and splashed into my bowl. Stella glanced at me but said nothing, returning her attention to her meal. Seeing me cry, Mrs. Ashworth grew impatient. “Did something happen at school? What is wrong with you? Say something. Crying isn’t going to solve anything.” My shoulders shook. I felt completely helpless. “I’m scared,” I sobbed. “I don’t know anything. The teacher yelled at me today. She said I was holding the whole class back. I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t be in school.” “What are you talking about?” Mrs. Ashworth asked, confused. “School is where you go to learn. If you already knew everything, there would be no point in going.” But I didn’t want to go back. That night, my anxiety and misery manifested as a raging fever. My mind grew foggy. Acting on old instincts, I slid off the cot and lay on the cool floor, hoping it would bring the fever down. Eventually, I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital. What happened? A nurse came in to change my IV bag. Seeing I was awake, she quickly called the Ashworths. A short while later, Mrs. Ashworth arrived. She sat gracefully in the chair beside my bed, her gaze a mixture of scrutiny and a fleeting, quickly suppressed flicker of pain. “You were burning up like that,” she said, her voice strained. “Why didn’t you call for someone?” I stared at her face, and a wave of raw, inexplicable grief washed over me. This was my mother. When you were sick, a mother was supposed to be with you. Tears welled up again, but this time they were silent. “I didn’t dare,” I whispered. Mrs. Ashworth sighed. She reached out and pulled the blanket up a little higher around my shoulders. Her voice softened. “Grace, you are my biological daughter. You’re allowed to be brave.” I blinked at her through my wet lashes, my voice small. “Does that mean… you’ll care about me?” She pressed her lips into a thin line, but after a moment, she gave a single, firm nod. My eyes lit up. “And… do you like me?” Mrs. Ashworth hesitated. Her gaze drifted over my small, sickly frame, and finally, she nodded again, slowly. That’s good. It felt like I had nothing left to wish for. 8 It was as if my body had stored up a decade of suffering, and it was all coming out at once. The fever kept returning. I was a pincushion of needles and a vessel for medicine. In my clearer moments, I would stare at the textbooks, trying to decipher their meaning. But it was no use. I had to start with the alphabet. During my hospital stay, Mr. Ashworth finally returned from a business trip abroad. He came to see me with Mrs. Ashworth. The moment I saw him, my eyes filled with tears. “Dad?” I asked, my voice choked with emotion. “Are you my dad?” Mr. Ashworth’s stern, imposing face softened almost imperceptibly. He nodded. And I broke into the biggest, happiest smile of my life. “Dad. Mom.” He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and placed his hand on top of my head. It was large and warm. The warmth of a father. I pulled the covers up over my face and cried again, ashamed of my own weakness. This was a stolen happiness. I knew I couldn’t ask for anything more. After that, even Caleb came to visit. When he found out I was learning to read because I was illiterate, he stared at me for a long, silent moment. I automatically smiled at him. “Brother, my life was really hard before. I never had a chance to learn. But I’m smart, I really am!” I could see the shock in his eyes, and maybe a flash of discomfort. He left abruptly, but returned a while later with a stack of colorful picture books. By the time I was discharged, a month had passed. Our shared birthday was approaching, Stella’s and mine. Mrs. Ashworth decided I should continue resting at home until after the party. On the day of the celebration, Stella was dressed in a breathtaking princess gown. Her hair, dark and glossy, fell in perfect, natural waves around her shoulders. She was the very picture of a fairy-tale princess. I looked at her, and even though I knew I could never be as beautiful, my heart filled with joy for her. Mrs. Ashworth had a dress for me, too, but I was so small and thin that it hung off my frame. The only small victory was that my time with the Ashworths had allowed my skin to grow paler, and the years of grime had finally washed away, revealing a subtle resemblance in my features to Mrs. Ashworth. As was tradition, the house was filled with guests. The adults made small talk, and Caleb hung out with a group of boys his own age. Stella, naturally, was the center of attention, surrounded by a crowd of admirers wishing her a happy birthday. “Stella, who’s that?” one of the girls asked, nodding in my direction. “The maid’s daughter?” Stella shot me a complicated look but didn’t answer. I just smiled at them and retreated to a quiet corner to eat a slice of the sweet, wonderful cake. A girl who was clearly older than us sidled up to me. She looked me up and down, a sly smile playing on her lips. “My name’s Chloe,” she said. “You’re the real daughter, right?” She leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Aren’t you jealous? They only pay attention to Stella.” I shook my head quickly. “Stella is lovely. Of course they love her.” 9 Chloe stared at me as if I were an idiot. “This was all supposed to be yours,” she pressed. “How can you not hate her? She stole your parents.” I felt a pang of discomfort. “Please don’t say that. Stella is my sister.” Chloe looked genuinely speechless this time, as if she’d run out of ways to provoke me. Across the room, Stella was opening her presents. Someone had given her a pair of beautiful ballet slippers. She put them on and, to the delight of the crowd, began to dance. She was graceful and light, twirling her way up the grand staircase to the second-floor landing. She finished with a deep, dramatic bow to the applauding guests below. I clapped along with everyone else. She’s so talented. Unlike me. I had nothing. No skills, no dreams. I decided to slip away to my little room. As I passed the second floor, I saw Chloe appear behind Stella. She was clapping, but as she did, she gave Stella a subtle, deliberate push. My blood ran cold. My body moved before my brain could process it. My sister is in danger! I lunged forward. Stella fell backward, hard, right into my arms. The impact sent us both tumbling down the grand staircase. The room filled with gasps and screams. By the time Mrs. Ashworth pushed through the crowd, Stella and I were in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. She rushed over and immediately gathered Stella into her arms, checking her from head to toe for injuries. Then, her eyes landed on me. I was about to say I was okay when the sharp sting of a slap exploded across my face. “Grace!” Mrs. Ashworth shrieked, her voice filled with venom. “After all this time pretending, you finally showed your true colors! You couldn’t stand to see Stella happy, could you?” “I told you again and again that Stella will always be my daughter! I raised her for sixteen years! You’ve only been here a few months! I can’t believe I actually thought you were a sweet, innocent girl. How could you push your sister down the stairs?!”

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To celebrate my sister-in-law, Chloe, hitting a million followers, I took her to The Spire, my husband’s new rooftop restaurant. It was supposed to be a triumph—for her, for him, for us. We were halfway through a bottle of champagne, the city lights of New York glittering below us like a fallen constellation. Chloe was live, her phone propped against a breadbasket, a ring light casting a perfect angelic glow on her face as she chatted with her followers. I was taking a picture of her, a celebratory shot against the skyline, when a shadow fell over our table. A hand shot out, snatched my phone, and before I could even process what was happening, plunged it into the silver ice bucket chilling our champagne. We both stared, speechless, as the screen flickered and died with a sickening fizz. Then came the voice, sharp and grating as shattered glass. “All you do is tap-tap-tap on that damn phone! Trying to brand yourself as some kind of debutante to trap a rich man, is that it? Didn’t your mother ever teach you to have some goddamn shame?” Chloe and I just looked at each other, then back at my drowned phone, now a useless brick submerged beside a seventy-dollar bottle of Veuve Clicquot. “Are you out of your mind?” I said, slowly getting to my feet. My voice was low, cold. “What I do with my phone has nothing to do with you.” The woman’s smirk widened, her arrogance radiating off her like cheap perfume. “I’m the manager here,” she snapped. “You’ve been taking up this table for forty minutes. That gives me every right to tell you to get the hell out.” She gestured around the opulent dining room. “I can’t stand girls like you. Broke as a joke, but you’ll max out a credit card to play dress-up for the ‘gram. You’re nothing but wannabe mistresses.” I was so stunned I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know my husband, Grayson, had a second wife. Her eyes, framed in severe, black eyeliner, glittered with a poisonous satisfaction. She pulled out her own phone. “You just wait. My husband will be here any minute to deal with two classless little bitches like you.” 1 She crossed her arms, a smug sense of victory plastered on her face. “Don’t think I don’t know your type. You see a place like this, pull out your cheap phone, and start snapping pictures for clout. It’s pathetic. You’re trash.” When we remained silent, she grew even bolder. With a sneer, she fished my dead phone from the ice bucket, water streaming from its ports, and tossed it onto the marble floor. Then, she deliberately brought the needle-thin heel of her glittery pump down on the screen, shattering it with a definitive crunch. “What’s the matter? Nothing to say?” she taunted. “Cat got your tongue? Hit a little too close to home, did I? I see girls like you every single year, trying to fake it till you make it. This is a high-end restaurant, not a goddamn brothel!” Chloe glanced at me, her eyes wide. Her other phone, the one she’d been using for her livestream, was still on, the camera broadcasting this entire nightmare to thousands of people. Her comments section was exploding. [omg what is happening?! Who is this psycho??] [That’s The Spire, the new Blackwood Holdings restaurant. It’s the hottest spot in NYC right now. That woman is the manager, I’ve seen her before.] [A manager can’t act like that! This is insane!] The comments flew by in a blur. Chloe, whose personality was naturally on the softer side, fumbled for her phone. Her fingers flew across the screen, her composure crumbling as she typed in the Blackwood family group chat. [Dad, Mom, something crazy is happening. This woman at Grayson’s restaurant is attacking me and Claire!] Then she tagged Grayson. [@Grayson Blackwood get to the restaurant NOW!] Getting no immediate reply, she tugged on my sleeve, her voice a small, frightened whisper. “Claire…” I patted her hand, a silent promise that I would handle this. Then I lifted my gaze, my eyes locking with the manager’s. “If you’re sick, I suggest you see a doctor. Don’t stand here barking at my sister and me like a stray dog.” Her eyes, heavy with that exaggerated eyeliner, narrowed. A flicker of raw jealousy crossed her face before her words turned even sharper. “Me, barking?” She laughed, a short, ugly sound. “Oh, I’ve seen your kind a million times. You build this fake little princess persona online, get an army of thirsty guys to worship you. You love it when men kiss your feet, don’t you? But you can’t stand it when someone calls you out on your bullshit.” I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath. I refused to argue with her. You can’t reason with an animal. “Right now,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, my eyes snapping open to pin her with a glare. “Go get the owner. Your supposed husband. Bring him here.” I said nothing more, letting the command hang in the air. My gaze drifted over her, cataloging the cheap dress and the overly aggressive makeup. But then, my eyes snagged on the necklace resting against her collarbone. The Ocean Star. In that instant, the brilliant, sun-drenched afternoon outside the panoramic windows seemed to cloud over. A bone-deep chill washed over me, cold and sickening. The Ocean Star was a set. Two identical necklaces, each featuring a sapphire so deep and blue it seemed to hold the sea itself. Grayson had bought both of them at a Sotheby’s auction earlier this year. He’d fastened one around my neck himself. The other, he’d placed carefully back in its velvet box and locked it in our safe. “When we have a daughter,” he’d said, his voice soft as he kissed my temple, “this will be my first gift to her. You and she will have matching ones.” Back then, I had been floating in the warm, blissful sea of our love. I thought I had married the perfect man, a man who already adored the daughter we hadn’t even conceived yet. But now, seeing that promise, that symbol of our future family, hanging around another woman’s neck… it was like watching a blade slice through the beautiful dream I’d been living in. The thought of her powerful man seemed to inflate the manager’s ego even further. Her chin lifted. “You’re clearly out of your depth, sweetie. When my husband gets here, you two will be lucky if you only get thrown out of the city.” Chloe leaned closer, her voice trembling. The woman’s unhinged aggression had terrified her. “Claire,” she whispered, “the owner she’s talking about… it’s not Grayson, is it?” I took another shaky breath but couldn’t answer. It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart, cutting off all the air. Realization dawned on Chloe’s face, followed by a surge of protective anger. She grabbed her phone again, her thumbs flying across the family chat. [Mom, Dad, you need to get to Grayson’s new restaurant RIGHT NOW. If you don’t, our family is going to fall apart.] She took a photo of the manager, the Ocean Star necklace clearly visible, and posted it directly in the chat, tagging her brother again. [@Grayson Blackwood, WHO IS THIS WOMAN?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!] She didn’t try to hide what she was doing. She wanted—no, she needed—for this to be some kind of terrible mistake. My mother-in-law’s reply was instantaneous. [That bastard! Claire, you tell Claire not to be afraid. The Blackwood family will only ever recognize HER as our daughter-in-law.] But as Chloe waited, her phone remained silent. No reply from Grayson. Our escalating conflict had now drawn the attention of the entire restaurant. I had no desire to be a public spectacle, the star of some cheap circus act, so I fell silent. But others were more than happy to join the fray. An older woman, who I assumed was the manager’s sister, materialized at her side and glared at us. “You heard her! Get out! And delete every single picture you took on your way out. This establishment doesn’t allow trash like you to use it as a backdrop!” The older woman then turned to the manager. “Don’t you worry, sis. I’m here. I won’t let anyone cause trouble for you. Besides, your man will be here any second.” At the mention of Grayson, a sickeningly sweet, triumphant smile bloomed on the manager’s face. It was grotesque. It was blinding. Her confidence surging, she turned back to us, her voice dripping with venom. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. Just leaving isn’t enough. I want you to post a public apology online. I want you to admit to everyone that you’re nothing but pathetic, clout-chasing gold diggers.” 2 A laugh escaped my lips. Not of anger, but of sheer, unadulterated absurdity. It was as if I had stumbled into a theater of the bizarre. I truly couldn’t comprehend how a person so grotesquely delusional could exist in the world. Chloe, who had just started college, who had been coddled and adored her entire life, had never had a finger pointed at her in accusation, let alone been subjected to such a vile, public tirade. The tears that had been welling in her eyes finally spilled over, streaming down her pale cheeks. She was utterly devastated. The sight of her tears seemed to enrage the manager even more. “Cry! Go on, cry!” she shrieked. “That’s all you women know how to do, isn’t it? Use your tears as a weapon to manipulate men! Am I wrong? Aren’t you gold diggers? It’s disgusting!” Suddenly, she let out a piercing scream that nearly shattered the crystal glasses on the tables. “Ah! You little slut! Don’t you dare get your filthy tears on that plate! I swear to God, who knows what kind of diseases you have!” She took two dramatic steps back, as if we were lepers. “Post the apology now!” she commanded. “And you’ll pay this restaurant a hundred thousand dollars for sanitation fees! You’re filthy!” At the mention of the money, the last bit of color drained from Chloe’s face. She looked like she was about to collapse. I closed my eyes. I had no desire to engage with an idiot, but that didn’t mean I was going to let this raving lunatic walk all over us. I placed a reassuring hand on Chloe’s arm, but a hot surge of adrenaline was already coursing through me. My face was a thundercloud as I rounded the table. I walked straight up to the manager and, with all the force I could muster, slapped her hard across the face. The crisp, sharp sound echoed through the suddenly silent restaurant. Every diner, every waiter, froze. Mouths hung open as heads swiveled in our direction. In the livestream’s comment section, the frantic chatter came to an abrupt halt. Chloe seized the moment, her phone angled just right, transcribing the manager’s every vicious word into the family group chat. My mother-in-law’s response was immediate and furious. [Who is this blind, worthless piece of trash! Chloe, protect your sister-in-law! Your father and I are on our way!] [And your brother, who knows what the hell he’s doing! He’s not even looking at his phone!] Chloe wiped a tear from her eye, a small measure of relief washing over her. The manager, stunned by the blow, took a moment to recover. She cradled her flaming cheek, her eyes filled with a mixture of shock and pure hatred. In her twisted fantasy, I was supposed to be the one groveling, posting apologies, and scurrying away in shame. “You hit me?” she screeched. “You bitch! Who the hell do you think you are to lay a hand on me?” Her voice climbed to a hysterical pitch. “Do you have any idea who my husband is? The president of the Blackwood Holdings! I am the future matriarch of the Blackwood family!” The sound was so shrill it made my ears ring. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Her gaze flickered between my face and Chloe’s, and her fury seemed to intensify. It was obvious she despised women who looked like us—the type she probably labeled as “the innocent type.” In her mind, that look was a weapon, a master key for hopping from one rich man’s bed to another. The thought sent her spiraling into a nonstop, vitriolic rant. “You two bitches! You dare to touch me on my own turf? I saw you the second you walked in. You didn’t even touch your food, just sat there snapping photos with your phone for forty damn minutes!” she spat. “This is an elite establishment. Our tables are valuable. This isn’t your personal pig trough!” Her voice was loud enough to carry across the entire dining room. “I’ve seen plenty of shameless whores like you. You sleep your way to the top and you’re probably riddled with syphilis!” At that, a murmur rippled through the other diners. They looked at us with a newfound disgust. In today’s world, the mention of STDs is a potent, fear-inducing weapon. And these people, hearing only one side of the story, were easily swayed. “Oh my God, if they have something like that, they shouldn’t be out in public! Don’t infect the rest of us!” “Exactly! The manager’s right. Who takes pictures for forty minutes straight? And look at how they’re dressed, so revealing. They’re obviously trying to seduce someone!” “Manager, get them out of here! And bring me a new set of silverware! A sanitized one!” Hearing the crowd turn in her favor, the manager’s expression grew even more smug. She looked at us as if we were a contamination she was about to heroically expunge. I took a deep breath, my sharp gaze sweeping over the most vocal of the complainers. “First,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise, “is there a rule in this restaurant that forbids photography? Is there a time limit on dining? We are paying customers. This time is ours.” “Second,” I continued, my voice dripping with contempt, “are you all just going to believe whatever she says? Do you have no judgment of your own? You’re nothing but a flock of mindless sheep.” A few people had the decency to look ashamed, clearing their throats and looking away. Internet trolls and real-life bullies are the same. They only prey on those who won’t fight back. The moment you strike, they retreat into their shells like cowards. 3 Seeing that I dared to talk back, the manager’s face contorted with rage. “This is Jessica Fuller’s restaurant! If I say you broke the rules, you broke the rules! What are you going to do about it?” My eyes suddenly fixed on the name tag pinned to her chest. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. [Jessica Fuller, Restaurant Manager.] Jessica… I’d heard that name before. Whispered in Grayson’s sleep. It was a few months ago. He’d held me for a long time after we made love, and long after his breathing had evened out, I lay awake, restless. In the dead of the night, I heard him murmur something in his sleep. “Jess… Jess…” It was so faint I wasn’t sure I’d heard it right. The next morning, as he was fastening his tie in front of the mirror, I asked him about it. His hands froze for a fraction of a second before he quickened his movements, his fingers suddenly clumsy. “You must have misheard me, honey,” he said. He’d skipped breakfast, muttering something about an early meeting at the office before hurrying out the door. I hadn’t thought much of it then. But now, in this garish, overwrought restaurant, the final puzzle piece clicked into place. Jess… So intimate. So familiar. The hand at my side clenched into a fist so tight my nails dug into my palm. An icy draft seemed to snake its way into my chest, a cold so deep it felt like it was freezing me from the inside out. Jessica’s anger continued to boil. She snatched a glass of red wine from a nearby table and hurled it at us. Before Chloe or I could react, the dark liquid splashed across our clothes, staining us in a humiliating splatter of crimson. As we stood there, stunned and dripping, she lunged forward. Smack. Smack. Two sharp slaps, one for me and one for Chloe, landed on our faces. The restaurant was now so quiet that her shrill, piercing insults were the only thing you could hear. “You bitch! You still dare to run your mouth? I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” I slowly worked my jaw, tasting the faint, coppery tang of blood in my mouth. And then, I smiled. “What the hell are you smiling at, you psycho—” CRACK! I swung my hand back, putting every ounce of my strength into the blow. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back so she was forced to look at me. “Who do you think you are, touching me?” I snarled, my voice low and menacing. “You want to die? I’ll be happy to send you on your way.” While she was still reeling, I reached over to our table, grabbed the plate of black pepper spaghetti, and slammed it upside down onto her head. A strange, dead silence fell over the room. Even Chloe was staring, her eyes wide as she swallowed hard. She discreetly pulled out her phone. [Mom, Dad, Claire is a total badass, but you need to hurry. Her mood is… not good. I think the woman who’s bullying us might be…] She glanced at the family chat. Grayson was still silent. Chloe had a sinking feeling that a storm was about to break over the Blackwood family. Jessica stood frozen, feeling the greasy, sticky sauce and the faint, peppery smell overwhelming her senses. She tentatively raised a hand to her head, pulling away a clump of lukewarm, slimy pasta. “AHHHHHH!” Her shriek was terrifying, a sound of pure horror and rage. She clawed at her hair, flailing like a madwoman. “You bitch!” she screamed, her face turning a blotchy, furious red. “I’m going to fucking kill you today!” Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. She spun around and barked an order at a group of stone-faced men in black suits standing by the entrance. “You! Get these two ignorant little sluts and tie them up!” A dozen bodyguards immediately moved toward us. Jessica’s face was a mask of triumphant hatred, her eyes venomous. “These men were assigned to me by my husband, for my protection. You two whores are dead today.” She gestured at the advancing men. “Get them!” I shoved Chloe behind me, shielding her as I faced down the pack of thugs. “You work for Grayson Blackwood, right?” I warned them. “I’m telling you, I am—” “You are shit!” Jessica shrieked, her rage escalating at the mention of his name. “So you even know my husband’s name, you bitch! You really did your homework before trying to sink your claws into him, didn’t you? I knew I was right about you!” The bodyguards paused, a flicker of uncertainty in their eyes, but it didn’t matter. Their orders were clear: protect the restaurant, and protect Jessica Fuller. With grim determination, they lunged at me. 4 Chloe was trembling, fumbling with her phone as she tried to make a call, her voice shaking uncontrollably. “Dad! Mom! When are you getting here? They’re beating us up, please, oh God—ah!” Before she could finish, a bodyguard snatched the phone from her hand and smashed it on the floor, where it shattered into a dozen pieces. Another guard backhanded her across the face, shoving her to the ground and pinning her there. She couldn’t move. “Grayson Blackwood is my brother!” she cried out. “Let me go!” But her words were muffled as a hand clamped over her mouth, her desperate pleas lost in the chaos. “Chloe!” My heart leaped into my throat. In that split second of distraction, one of the bodyguards drove his foot deep into my stomach. The force of the blow sent me flying backward. I crashed into a table, the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass exploding around me. A searing pain shot through my back as shards of broken glass sliced through my dress and into my skin. The wounds were deep; I could feel warm blood instantly soaking the fabric. My face went pale with pain. Before I could recover, a guard hauled me to my feet, kicked the back of my knees, and forced me into a humiliating kneel before Jessica. My eyes were locked on her. If looks could kill, this vile woman would have died a thousand times over. She stepped forward and slapped me again, her long nails scraping a raw, red line down my cheek. “You still dare to glare at me?” She bent down, grabbed my hair, and slammed my head against the hard marble floor. “Bitch!” she hissed. “You dare to cross me? I’m going to fix your promiscuous, little ass today!” She then picked up a serving dish of Szechuan fish from a nearby table and, with a vicious grin, poured the entire thing over my head. The oily, spicy broth and chunks of fish cascaded down my hair and face. I shut my eyes, struggling and cursing, my voice growing hoarse. “Jessica, I swear to God, I am going to destroy you!” She dropped the empty platter and looked down at me, dripping and defeated, with utter satisfaction. She pinched my chin, her fingers digging into my skin. “Such a tough one, aren’t you? Don’t worry. When my husband gets here, you two sluts won’t have a future left in this city.” From the floor, Chloe was sobbing. “You just wait! When my parents get here, they’re going to make you pay!” Jessica’s contemptuous gaze shifted to her. “Oh, I almost forgot about the younger one.” She strode over and slapped Chloe, a jealous rage flashing in her eyes as she looked at Chloe’s perfect, unblemished skin. “So young and already so experienced with men. Are your parents dead? Who taught you to be such a little seductress?” “You love taking pictures, right?” Jessica sneered. “Let’s take a few of you looking like the pathetic whore you are.” She grabbed Chloe’s discarded phone from the floor. Her eyes widened as she saw the screen. “You bitch! You were still live-streaming?” She ended the stream before turning the camera on Chloe’s terrified, tear-streaked face, snapping picture after picture. “You like the camera so much? Well, here you go!” Chloe was just a girl. She had never known this kind of cruelty. Her eyes were wide with pure, undiluted despair. “Chloe!” A primal, furious scream tore from my throat. Fueled by a surge of pure rage, I broke free from the guard holding me down. I tackled Jessica, throwing her to the floor and straddling her, my hands flying as I slapped her again and again and again. “Ah! Ah!” Jessica shrieked in pain and shock. The bodyguards, stunned for a second, finally reacted, kicking me off her. “Ms. Fuller, are you alright?” the lead bodyguard asked, his voice shaking. He was dead. Mr. Blackwood would have his head for this. His panic mounted, and he turned his vicious gaze back to me, crumpled on the floor. He stalked forward, grabbing my hair, ready to strike again. “I am Grayson Blackwood’s wife, Claire Blackwood,” I spat out, my voice raw but clear. “I’m the daughter of the Sterling Group. If you dare touch me again, you will regret it.” My certainty gave him pause. His hand froze in mid-air. But Jessica, scrambling to her feet, just laughed hysterically. “A gold digger with delusions of grandeur! His wife? I’m Grayson’s wife!” “Teach her a lesson!” she screamed at the bodyguard. “Rip that lying mouth of hers right off her face!” Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance of the restaurant. The lead bodyguard looked over and immediately straightened up, his demeanor shifting to one of fawning subservience. “Mr. Blackwood! You’re finally here, sir!”

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The world hated me, but Hollywood had a script it wanted me to play. In it, I was cast opposite Ethan Cole, the golden boy of the silver screen. We were to play a couple teetering on the edge of divorce, two souls torn apart by heartbreak and betrayal who, against all odds, find their way back to each other. A second chance. A story of redemption. No one on set knew the irony. In real life, Ethan and I were secretly married. And we hadn’t spoken a civil word to each other in years. The day we wrapped, I went home to our cold, empty house. But he was there, a shadow in the darkness, and his arms wrapped around me from behind. “Whatever you did back then,” he whispered, his voice thick with a history I no longer wanted, “the betrayal… I’m willing to forget it. We can—” His words were cut off by the sharp ping of a notification. Another headline, another picture of Ethan with his new girlfriend splashed across the gossip sites. The ninth one this year. I pushed him away. “Let’s get a divorce, Ethan.” He didn’t understand. The day he let the world crucify me to save himself, our story ended. There was no coming back from that. Our broken pieces could never be glued back together. So why, then, was he sitting in the front row, tears streaming down his face, the night I finally walked on stage to accept my award? 1 The first day on set, I saw him before he saw me. Ethan Cole was locked in a passionate embrace with his latest girlfriend, Chloe, right by the trailers. It was a full-blown, movie-style kiss, a performance for an audience of none. Or so they thought. I watched them, a dull ache in my chest where a storm used to rage. She wasn’t the first. She wouldn’t be the last. The first time he brought a woman home, I had shattered, screamed, even hurt myself in a desperate, pathetic attempt to shock him back into our marriage. All I did was push him further away. Liam, the director, was walking me through the production schedule when Ethan’s face suddenly appeared in my line of sight. My breath caught. He wasn’t just dropping Chloe off. Liam, oblivious, beamed at us. “I don’t think you two have formally met! Ava, this is Ethan Cole. Ethan, Ava Reed. You’re my leads.” He then waved Chloe over. “And this is my little sister, Chloe. She’s playing your rival, Ava. I know you’ll all take good care of her!” A cold knot formed in my stomach. I glanced at Ethan. His face was a mask of polite confusion. He hadn’t known either. My agent, Maya, shot me an apologetic look from across the lot. I had no idea it was them, she mouthed. I took a slow, steadying breath and gave her a small nod. It’s fine. Let them come. I wasn’t the one who should be hiding. Chloe bounced over, linking her arm through her brother’s. “So, did you finally come to your senses and make me the lead, big bro?” Liam playfully rolled his eyes. “With your acting skills? You’re barely ready for a guest spot. I want this film to actually sell tickets.” She pouted, retreating into Ethan’s arms for comfort. “She’s just some nobody who slept her way to the top. What’s so special about her? I’ll be way bigger than her one day…” Her voice was a stage whisper, designed to be heard. My jaw tightened. I waited, a foolish part of me hoping Ethan would defend me, even a little. He just chuckled, stroking her hair. “Of course you will, babe. You’ll be a thousand times the star she is.” In that moment, it felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. The boy who once picked fights with anyone who dared to speak ill of me was gone. In his place was a man who would casually join in on the gossip himself. 2 During our first scene together, I couldn’t find my focus. The script demanded I look at him with a mix of love and resentment, but all I felt was a cold, clinical distance. I didn’t want to see his face. I’m sure the feeling was mutual. “Cut!” Liam yelled for the fifth time. During the break, I sat in my chair, trying to quiet the storm in my mind. Memories kept ambushing me. Years ago, we were nobodies, just two more faces in the crowd on sprawling studio lots. We were extras, background players, sharing the same impossible dream. That shared struggle forged a bond between us, and it wasn’t long before he used a scene from a cheesy medieval fantasy series to confess his feelings for me. “We might be background players in this world,” he’d said, looking earnest and ridiculous in his pageboy costume, “but in my heart, you’re the only leading lady.” I couldn’t help but laugh. He got flustered. “You don’t believe me? I’m going to make it, Ava. I swear. And I’m going to give you everything.” That day, surrounded by a hundred other extras, we felt like the stars of the whole show. “A pageboy getting married?” I teased. His eyes lit up with a familiar spark. “Just wait ’til tonight. I’ll show you what this pageboy can do.” … My thoughts scattered as I saw Chloe dabbing sweat from Ethan’s brow, cooing over him. He leaned into her touch, soaking it up. “Her acting is atrocious,” Chloe was saying, loud enough for me to hear. “How many takes for one simple scene? And they call her a Starlight Award winner. I wonder how many directors she had to sleep with for that. My brother must have been blind to cast her.” I pretended not to hear, my nails digging into my palms. Liam, seeing that Ethan and I were a lost cause for the moment, decided to move up a scene between me and Chloe. The cameras rolled. Before I could even get my line out, Chloe’s hand cracked across my face. A real, stinging slap. I stumbled back, my cheek burning, and stared at her in disbelief. “The scene is about her trying to steal my man,” Chloe announced to the crew, her voice dripping with self-satisfaction. “I felt adding a slap would make it feel more authentic.” A production assistant helped me up. Fury pulsed through me. “Stick to the damn script,” I said, my voice shaking. She scoffed. “It’s called improvisation. It’s what real actors do. Maybe you should try it instead of relying on your stale, robotic techniques.” The set descended into chaos. Liam rushed over to mediate. After a quick touch-up from makeup, we reset for another take. This time, I was ready. I channeled all my anger into the performance, and in the raw energy of the scene, she was clearly outmatched. She was losing control. Frustrated, she suddenly shoved me, hard. Caught completely off guard, I fell backward, the back of my head hitting the unforgiving concrete floor with a sickening thud. A warm, wet sensation spread through my hair. Blood. Through a dizzying haze, I saw Chloe shrink into Ethan’s arms. “It wasn’t me… I barely touched her…” Ethan’s voice cut through the fog, sharp and clear. “Don’t worry, I saw it. It was her own fault. She threw herself backward. She’s always been good at faking it.” He paused, his voice laced with venom. “If she died, it’d be no great loss.” A shocked silence fell over the crew. Liam finally broke it, his eyes wide with confusion. “Ethan… Do you two know each other?” 3 Know each other? We were husband and wife. We still were. It was a secret we’d kept buried for years. Few people even knew we’d once had a love story so bright it could have lit up a city. But we were small-town kids then, nobodies. And the love stories of nobodies rarely make it into the spotlight. On our wedding day, I made a wish that in five years, we’d still be as happy as we were in that moment. Well, I’d held on, refusing to sign divorce papers, dragging our marriage to its five-year anniversary. But the happiness was long gone. He hadn’t come home in years. Our marriage was a ghost. I woke up in a sterile white hospital room. The crew had gathered around my bed, their faces a blur of concerned expressions. My eyes scanned the room, searching, hoping… but Ethan wasn’t there. A familiar wave of disappointment washed over me. What did you expect, Ava? After the crowd dispersed, I picked up my phone. No calls. No texts. Nothing from him. I remembered a time, early in our careers, when I was working as a stunt double. A lead actress had accidentally scratched my face with her long nails, drawing a thin line of blood. Ethan had lost his mind, screaming at her until he was red in the face, ready to burn the whole set down just to defend my honor. Now, his new girlfriend could send me to the hospital, and he couldn’t be bothered to send a single, perfunctory text. My head throbbed. I was about to put the phone down when a push notification lit up the screen. #AvaReed Injured on Set, Co-star Chloe Miller Implicated #AvaReed Rushed to Hospital #Production Halted on ‘An Echo of Us’ I clicked on a link. The comments section was filled with supportive fans, many of whom had already descended upon Chloe’s social media accounts with a vengeance. But one comment, pinned near the top, caught my eye. [Don’t fall for her act. This is a woman who would do anything for fame. You really think this isn’t a publicity stunt for the new movie?] I knew that username. It was Ethan’s burner account. He despised me. We had created those secret accounts together, years ago, laughing about how we’d use them to be each other’s biggest fans, our own private hype-squad. He was using it, just as we’d planned. Just not in the way I’d ever imagined. My fans fought back, and soon, his callous comment was trending too. Exhausted, I fell into a restless sleep. Maya woke me up later, carrying a container of soup. She fidgeted, looking hesitant. “Ava… did you see the news?” I assumed she meant the articles about my injury. I nodded. She let out a strange sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I was worried you’d be upset when he made it official with Chloe…” The spoon in my hand clattered against the tray. With a shaking hand, I grabbed my phone. It was the number one trending topic in the country. #EthanCole: ‘Chloe Miller is My Girlfriend’ Something inside me, something I didn’t even know was still intact, quietly shattered. He’d had so many women over the years, but he’d never, ever gone public. Was he serious about her? Or was this just a desperate move to bury the negative press about my “accident”? I didn’t know. A memory surfaced, unbidden. Five years ago, his words whispered in the dark: “If I ever go public with someone, Ava, it will only ever be you.” I managed a bitter smile. Some promises just weren’t meant to be kept. 4 After three days, I was back on set. My old friend, Noah Sterling, a director I’d worked with before, stopped by to check on me. “Coffee and pastries for the hardest working crew in Hollywood!” he announced, charming everyone instantly. The crew buzzed with speculation. “Ava, what’s the story with you and Director Sterling? I heard he never visits sets.” “Yeah, he’s handsome, rich, and was voted ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ by that online poll! Are you two an item?” I just smiled, unsure of what to say. Noah handed me a thermos. “I made this for you. Bone broth. You need to recover.” The teasing from the crew grew louder. “Ooh, is a big announcement coming? Are you two going Instagram official tonight?” “Guess that means the on-screen couple is officially doomed in real life, since both our leads are taken now!” Noah paused, a tray of croissants in his hand. “What do you mean?” Maya quickly filled him in. “You don’t spend enough time online, Noah. That one over there…” His gaze followed her gesture to where Ethan and Chloe were busy doing a live stream, projecting an image of perfect love for their followers. As Noah approached, Ethan looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Still hanging around her after all these years, Sterling? Haven’t you two made it official yet?” He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Then again, after what she did… I guess even you think she’s too dirty to touch, right?” Before the words had even fully settled, Noah’s fist connected with Ethan’s jaw. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Noah snarled, his voice trembling with rage. “If it wasn’t for Ava, you wouldn’t even have a career today! You ungrateful piece of shit, parading your little flings in front of her!”

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I became the villain’s stepmother. I didn’t really care. I just took the villain with me whenever I went out. Until one day, a series of live comments appeared before my eyes. 【Wait, how is this Tasmanian devil of a villain so docile?】 【I remember the last nanny they hired ran away screaming!】 【LMAO, who the hell goes on a five-kilometer power walk for a “casual stroll”? With no other draining activities, either. The villain looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion, hahaha!】 I glanced at the little villain, who had made a beeline for his bed the moment we got home. I pursed my lips, but before I could speak, his eyes met mine. He immediately burrowed under the covers, hiding himself completely. 1 My marriage to Corbett was a contract. A simple exchange of benefits between our two families, with no feelings involved. After all, love doesn’t just fall from the sky. The only people breaking down your door are the blind dates your family sets you up with. After the wedding ceremony, Corbett made an excuse about work and left the villa. I gave him a perfunctory nod. The housekeeper, Mrs. Davison, shot me a sympathetic look. I figured she felt sorry for me, being trapped in a loveless marriage, and didn’t think much of it. As I was relaxing on the sofa, a small, thin figure in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A boy, maybe eight or nine years old, was leaning against the doorframe, studying me with a pair of dark, intense eyes. I knew instantly who he was. This was Leo, the son from Corbett’s first wife. The tabloids said Corbett barely paid him any mind, too busy with his work. I figured the kid was shy, so I didn’t call him over. I just offered him a small smile before closing my eyes again. We’d have plenty of time to get to know each other later. The thought had barely crossed my mind when there was a loud CRASH! My eyes flew open. An antique vase that had been sitting in the corner was now a pile of glittering shards on the floor. The pieces were scattered around Leo’s feet. The housekeeper glanced at me nervously, her words catching in her throat. “Ma’am, Leo, he…” My brow furrowed slightly. Everyone, including the little boy standing amidst the wreckage, seemed to be waiting for me to explode. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine, a flicker of defiance in his dark eyes. But I did something no one expected. I stood up, walked over to him, and gave the pedestal the vase had been sitting on a firm shove. “This is just asking to be knocked over,” I told the housekeeper. “Get rid of this, too.” The heavy pedestal hit the floor with a dull thud. The boy, who had been braced for a scolding, froze. He stared up at me, his expression faltering. I thought he might be scared, so I instinctively wrapped an arm around his small frame, patting his back with an awkwardness I couldn’t hide. “It’s okay, don’t be scared. Where’s your room? I’ll take you back so you can get some sleep.” Leo’s entire body went rigid in my arms. Seeing he wasn’t fighting me, I held him a little tighter. First time being a stepmom, no experience. Am I doing this right? What I didn’t notice was the series of emotions that flashed across the little boy’s face as I held him—first flushed, then pale, his jaw clenching as he bit back whatever he was about to say. 2 Corbett didn’t come home that night. I wasn’t bothered. After tucking Leo into bed, I went to my own room and slept soundly. The next morning, I was up before the sun. It was a habit of mine to get an early workout in. After washing up, I was about to head out when I remembered the housekeeper’s strange attitude towards Leo. I paused. Corbett was probably away so often that the staff didn’t pay much attention to his son. I hadn’t planned on getting close to Leo, but he was my stepson now, at least in name. Leaving him to be neglected didn’t feel right. On a whim, I changed course and headed for Leo’s room. The curtains were drawn, and the room was dark and silent. I assumed he was still asleep and was about to leave when I glanced down at the bed. A pair of wide-awake, dark eyes stared back at me. He was buried under the covers with only his head sticking out, his gaze clear and alert. He seemed a little confused that I wasn’t startled. “Oh, you’re awake,” I said, oblivious to his little scheme. I patted the lump under the covers. “Get up. Let’s go work out together.” Leo just stared at me blankly for a long moment. Then, a flicker of something new crossed his face, and he slowly climbed out of bed. The morning air was crisp. We jogged a full loop around the gated community, which was built around a massive lake. By the time we finished, I was sweating. I looked back to see Leo trailing behind me. He had a kid’s energy, but the long run had left him panting heavily. As he caught up, before he could say anything, I grabbed his hand and gave it a little swing. “You did great!” I grinned. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast.” Leo’s face was flushed, his dark eyes fixed on me as if he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. I was in a great mood and even ate an extra slice of toast. When Mrs. Davison came into the dining room and saw Leo quietly eating his breakfast, she stopped in her tracks and muttered, “He didn’t even throw a single plate today…” I vaguely heard her mention a plate but didn’t pay it much mind. I glanced at the boy silently eating his eggs and felt a little warmer towards him. Heh, who doesn’t love a well-behaved kid? 3 After breakfast, I took Leo to the mall. Kids grow fast. I’d noticed during our run that his pants were a little too short. I figured some new clothes would be a nice welcome gift. We went to several stores, but I couldn’t find anything I liked. After lunch, we tried a few high-end children’s boutiques. I finally picked out a few outfits and brought them over to Leo, who was waiting on a sofa. The moment he saw me approach, he shot to his feet, his face set in a defiant line. “I’m not trying—” “Look,” I interrupted, holding up a jacket. “Do you like this color?” Caught off guard, he blinked. He glanced at the navy blue jacket, his eyes darting back and forth before he let out a dismissive scoff. “No.” He looked up at me, clearly expecting an argument. Instead, I just handed the jacket back to the sales associate and pulled him to his feet. “You’re right,” I said cheerfully. “You pick, then.” Leo stared at me, dumbfounded. He proceeded to pick out several of the ugliest items in the store, each one worse than the last. I was baffled. Do kids these days actually like ugly clothes? I didn’t get it, but I respected it. After I paid, I handed all the bags to Leo. “Here you go,” I said with a wide smile. “These are all the clothes you wanted.” He looked completely stunned, his eyes wide as he stared down at the bags in his hands. 4 I took his stunned silence as a sign of satisfaction and headed off to the women’s section to buy a few things for myself. By the time we got home, it was already dark. Dinner was ready and waiting. Fried shrimp, sweet and sour ribs, stir-fried vegetables… Leo, who had barely touched his lunch, devoured two whole bowls of rice. Mrs. Davison looked at him in surprise. “My, Leo, you have quite an appetite today.” At her words, Leo froze, shooting a glare in my direction. The tips of his ears, hidden under his dark hair, turned a faint pink. I didn’t think much of it. Seeing him eat so much, I decided to take him out for a walk after dinner to help him digest before finally letting him go to bed. … For the next few weeks, I took Leo with me whenever I went out. He was on summer vacation with nothing to do, and I was on my post-wedding leave with nothing to do. So, we went to theme parks, the movies, a water park. I was making up for all the things I missed out on in my own childhood. At first, Leo was sullen and withdrawn. But as we spent more time together, I started seeing the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile when he thought I wasn’t looking. About half a month passed like this. One evening, as the last rays of sunset faded from the sky, we came home and had dinner. As usual, he immediately went to his room. I didn’t think anything of it. I planned to go for a walk by the lake later, so I sat on the sofa for a bit before heading to his room to get him. But as I raised my hand to knock, the world flickered. A stream of glowing text suddenly materialized in front of my eyes. 【Wait, how is this demon child of a villain so docile?】 【I remember the last nanny they hired ran away screaming!】 【LMAO, who the hell walks five kilometers for a “casual stroll”? With no other draining activities, either. The villain looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion, hahaha!】 “What the…?” I whispered. What villain? I pushed the door open and saw Leo already in bed. I pursed my lips, but before I could speak, the little boy met my gaze and immediately burrowed under the covers, hiding himself completely. I was speechless. 5 In the dim room, a small lump shivered under the covers. The live comments were scrolling frantically. 【Hahaha, look at the villain’s terrified little eyes! Why is he so cute?!】 【Villain: Don’t you come near me!】 【Is the female side character doing this on purpose to mess with him? With the villain’s vengeful personality, he’s definitely going to get back at her…】 That last comment made my temple throb. Why would I deliberately mess with a child? That was insane. But the comments did give me some context. Apparently, we were living in a novel. Leo was the villain who, due to his mother’s early death and his father’s neglect, grew up to be neurotic, gloomy, and unstable. As an adult, he would become completely unhinged, targeting the main characters until he met a tragic end. I don’t have a hero complex. I had only started taking Leo with me because I was worried the staff would neglect him. But now, it seemed he didn’t just dislike it—he might actually resent me for it. With that thought, my intention of asking him out for a walk vanished. I turned, left the room, and gently closed the door behind me. The soft click of the latch was loud in the quiet night. Under the covers, the little boy’s ears twitched. When he was sure I was gone, Leo let out a sigh of relief. But then his brow furrowed. After a long moment of silence, he peeked out from under the blanket. The room was empty, swallowed by darkness. Leo sat up abruptly, staring at the door. Then, as if realizing something, he relaxed. His eyelashes fluttered as he muttered to himself, “She really just left?” He sighed and lay back down. Well, I’ll see her tomorrow anyway. 6 I had no idea what Leo was thinking. But my leave was ending tomorrow, and I had to go back to work. And from what I’d gathered, Leo was more than capable of handling the household staff on his own. The next morning, I got dressed and left the villa. My office was far away, so I decided to stay at my apartment in the city for convenience. Days turned into a week. Back at the villa, after several days of not seeing me, Leo couldn’t help but ask Mrs. Davison, “Where did… that person go?” “Which person, dear?” she asked, confused by his vague question. Leo’s brow furrowed in annoyance, but he managed to keep his temper in check. “The… the new aunt. Rachel.” Mrs. Davison finally understood. “Oh, the madam is away on business,” she said with a gentle smile. “Where did she go?” Leo pressed. “I’m not sure. She didn’t say.” Leo’s lips tightened into a thin line. The first few days, he hadn’t cared. He’d lounged around, enjoying the peace and quiet. But soon, every little sound from outside would make his head snap up. Each time, he was met with disappointment. He sat on the sofa, unconsciously picking at the armrest, his eyes constantly darting towards the front door. The calm he’d felt just days before had slowly morphed into a restless anxiety. 7 When I finally returned to the villa, I was shocked to find the living room in complete chaos. Mrs. Davison rushed over to me, her face a mixture of exhaustion and relief. “Ma’am, you’re finally back!” I nodded, my eyes scanning the mess. “What happened here?” It was dinnertime, but the food was splattered all over the floor, soaking into the expensive carpet. I recognized most of the dishes as my favorites, which only confused me more. The live comments provided an answer. 【See? I told you. No one can handle a villain this neurotic!】 【He was eating just fine, and then suddenly he throws his chopsticks and flips the table. This kid is scary.】 【If I were the side character, I’d divorce this guy and run. The father and son are both bad news.】 I frowned as the comments flew by. Mrs. Davison glanced at Leo, who was sitting on a sofa across the room, and said tentatively, “Leo was in a bad mood today, so…” I’d seen my fair share of spoiled rich kids. While table-flipping wasn’t common, it wasn’t unheard of. I wasn’t particularly shocked. Hearing our voices, Leo, who had been staring at the TV, turned his head. When his eyes met mine, his gaze faltered. The stormy expression on his face froze. After a long moment, he shot to his feet. Mrs. Davison flinched, clearly tense. I stood my ground, my expression calm. Now that I knew his true nature, I had no intention of getting any closer. It wasn’t my problem. But to my surprise, as the little boy marched towards me, he stopped just a few feet away. He seemed to be struggling with himself. Finally, he forced out a single, choked question. “Where have you been… why didn’t you take me with you?” The last few words came out as a whisper, all the anger gone from his voice. It wasn’t an accusation. It sounded almost like a plea. I was stunned.

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I was folding my girlfriend’s clothes when she suddenly spoke. “You’re pathetic, you know that? Worse than a doormat.” My hands froze. Before I could say anything, she cut me off. “Of course, you love me, I know that. You’re responsible and you take good care of me. But sometimes… you just don’t measure up to Asher. The things you do, anyone could do them. You’re nothing compared to him.” My mind flashed back to a month ago, when her ex-boyfriend had invited her to a concert. I had declined on her behalf. She was still holding it against me. I dropped the clothes and turned to leave. Just that morning, my boss had offered me a position at our overseas branch. I’d turned it down for her. But now, as I was finally walking away, leaving the space open for her ex, why was she the one crying and begging me to come back? 1 I threw the clothes on the bed. Ava sat there, watching me walk to the door. “What, was I wrong?” “There’s another show tonight, isn’t there?” I said, my hand tightening on the doorknob. “All this passive-aggressive nonsense is just about that, right? Go or don’t go. I don’t care.” She’d never heard me talk back to her before. A slow, incredulous smile spread across her face. “You really think I wouldn’t dare?” “Do whatever you want.” “Leo!” she called out as I opened the door. “What is that supposed to mean? Was anything I said untrue? Will you be happy if you force me to go?” “I told you. Do whatever you want.” I shut the door behind me. A few steps down the hall, I heard the sound of a glass shattering against a wall. I sat in a Starbucks, stirring my coffee and scrolling through my contacts for Ms. Lang’s number. I’d been saving every penny for a down payment on a house for us. The most expensive drink I’d had in years was a two-dollar iced tea. This Starbucks… wasn’t as good as I’d imagined. But I felt a strange sense of liberation. Ms. Lang answered on the second ring. I didn’t waste any time. “Ms. Lang, that offer to transfer to the overseas branch… is it still open?” She paused, then chuckled. “As long as you’re willing to take it.” “I am!” “And your fiancée… the wedding…” “We broke up.” Instead of offering condolences, Ms. Lang burst out laughing. “Good. It’s about time you came to your senses.” For six years, everyone had been subtly and not-so-subtly reminding me that my career was far more important than Ava. When her reckless startup failed, they’d told me I had a bright future and shouldn’t be dragged down with her. But at the time, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her when she was at her lowest. And yet, her ex-boyfriend—the one who had dumped her for being poor and run off with a rich girl from overseas—had now come crawling back, just as she’d made a name for herself. And she was letting him. My phone buzzed. It was a new post from Asher. A picture of the two of them, nestled close together, their faces projected onto the giant screen at the concert. Their hands were joined to form a heart for the entire arena to see. No one would doubt for a second that they were a couple. The caption read: After all this time, the right person was waiting for me right where I left them. Ava had liked the post. I took a screenshot and sent it to my best friend. I can’t deal with these two drama queens anymore. He sent back a question mark, along with a screenshot of a blank social media page. I tried sending it to a few other people. They couldn’t see it either. Asher had set the post’s privacy to be visible only to me and Ava. No, that wasn’t right. It was visible only to me. I let out a cold laugh, then blocked and deleted him. 2 After getting the overseas transfer contract from Ms. Lang, most of my anger had dissipated. I had a week before my flight, and I wasn’t about to spend it waiting on Ava. But when I got back to our apartment to pack, I found the place in chaos. Asher was standing in the kitchen, holding a plate of burnt chicken wings. “Ava, darling, are you sure it’s okay for me to make such a mess?” Ava, who was usually a neat freak, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Leo will clean it up.” “Ah, why can’t I be as good at housework as Leo?” “Don’t be silly. That’s work even a maid would turn her nose up at. It’s certainly not for you.” I walked straight past them and into the bedroom to pack my things. Ava looked stunned. Asher put down the chicken wings and followed me. “Leo, I…” Thump. I shoved him. But he flew backward as if he’d been hit by a truck, crashing to the floor. “Asher!” Ava rushed to his side, then glared at me. “Leo, I brought him here. If you’re angry, take it out on me!” My fists clenched. I ignored them and started throwing my things out of the closet and into a suitcase. A document fluttered out and landed at Asher’s feet. He picked it up. His eyes widened, and a flush of red crept up his neck. He dropped the paper and turned to leave. “Asher!” Ava grabbed his arm. He struggled. “Let go! You two are engaged!” I looked down. It was our engagement agreement. 3 Ava held onto Asher’s arm for dear life. He looked heartbroken, but he wasn’t actually trying to leave. “Leo,” Ava said, her voice tight with anger as she struggled to hold onto him. “Apologize.” I blinked. “For what?” “If you hadn’t insisted on this stupid engagement agreement, he wouldn’t be so upset right now! You were pretending to pack, but you just wanted him to see it, didn’t you?” I laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound. “Ava, I never realized you were this stupid.” She stared at me, speechless. I turned to Asher. “Did you not realize we were living together? Did you not know we were a couple? If you knew all that, why did you even ask if I was angry before? You knew everything, so who is this ‘I’m so shocked and betrayed’ act for?” His eyes grew redder. He made another show of leaving, and Ava held him back. “Leo! That’s enough!” I continued packing, ignoring them. Asher struggled again. “Don’t stop me! Leo has the wrong idea! You’re engaged, I shouldn’t be here!” “Leo!” Ava’s grip on Asher’s wrist tightened as she glared at me. “Apologize!” My hands were balled into tight fists. “No.” “Are you sure?” My jaw was set. “I’m sure.” Ava stared at me for a few seconds, then bent down and picked up the engagement agreement. “See? This is why you’ll never be as good as Asher. All you know how to do is play petty games and get jealous. It’s so obvious you’ve never been abroad. Your worldview is so much smaller than his.” With that, she ripped the agreement in half. Then she tore it again, and again, until it was nothing but scraps. She threw the pieces in my face. She turned, took Asher’s hand, and walked out without a backward glance. I picked up a framed photo of us and smashed it against the floor. The fractured glass drew a line between our faces. I kicked the broken frame into the trash. 4 Three days passed without a word from either of us. We used to talk every single day. Our chat streak had lasted for over two thousand days. But for more than half of those, I was the one who had to start the conversation. In just three days, the flame had gone out. I was in a hotel, finalizing some paperwork for the transfer, when Ava called me, for the first time in ages. “You’re not home?” I kept working. “Do you need something?” She sent me a picture of the apartment. The trash was overflowing. The dishes in the sink looked like they’d been hastily rinsed, with greasy residue caked on them. A pile of her clothes was crumpled on the bed, un-ironed. “If you’re done playing around, you should come home. The place is a mess. You should at least show some concern.” “Isn’t Asher there?” “Asher wants to help, but he’s not good at this sort of thing. He’s used to a certain lifestyle abroad. He didn’t come back to do chores.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. “You’re a successful businesswoman. Just hire a maid.” She was silent for a moment. “Even the best maid isn’t as thorough as you. Asher has very high standards. They’re just not good enough.” “You’re insane,” I said, and hung up. She called back. I blocked her number. A few minutes later, I got a notification that my bank card had been frozen. It was a card Ava had given me. When her startup had failed, I’d stayed by her side. I encouraged her, supported her, and held down the fort at home so she could rebuild. I’d turned down multiple promotions to be there for her. Six years later, she was a respected CEO, and I was still a junior employee. The card was her way of “repaying” me, though most of the money went towards our shared expenses. She was trying to force me to come back. I was so glad I had accepted Ms. Lang’s offer. A new bank card, with a generous bonus for my promotion, was already in my wallet. I didn’t need her money anymore. The next day, I was finishing up my work at Starbucks when I saw Ava and Asher walk in. I stood up to leave, but Asher approached me, a friendly smile on his face. I didn’t understand how he could be so shameless after I’d made my disgust for him so clear. In the ensuing scuffle, my folder of documents fell to the floor. Asher’s eyes widened as he saw the top page. “A transfer letter? Leo… you’re going to the overseas branch!” 5 I snatched the documents from his hand. Ava stared at me. “You’re… leaving?” Asher’s eyes turned red. “Leo, did you know I was applying for that branch? Are you doing this just to show me up?” I was stunned. Ava frowned. “Leo, you saw that Asher has international experience, so you decided to copy him? That branch is his dream! What do you think you’re doing? Rescind the transfer.” I clutched the letter. “No way. Ava, I’m curious. He has a dream, so he gets to pursue it. But when I have one, I’m not allowed? What, are you afraid to let him go?” She hesitated. “I shouldn’t hold him back… He didn’t come back just to be tied to me. I can visit him often. I’ll always respect his freedom.” A knot tightened in my chest. “So you weren’t angry when he abandoned you all those years ago?” Ava closed her eyes. “He had his reasons. Was I really supposed to let him suffer in poverty with me? Leo, opportunities like this are rare. Be a good boy and give it up. I’ll pull some strings and get you a good job here. Stop trying to compete with Asher.” SLAP! The sound echoed through the cafe. Asher gasped and lunged at me. “Leo! How could you hit Ava?” He grabbed my arm. “I won’t go! Leo, don’t fight with Ava because of me, I…” SLAP! Another slap, this one for him. He stopped mid-sentence. “What is all this pathetic whining?” I carefully tucked the transfer letter back into my folder. Ava shielded Asher with her body. “You’re crazy!” I looked at them both, my voice cold. “I’m leaving. It’s my decision. Nothing you say will change my mind.” I glanced at Asher. “And don’t you ever pull this manipulative crap in front of me again. It’s disgusting.” I walked out, leaving the entire cafe staring after me. Ava watched me go, a look of shock on her face. She bit her lip, her eyes narrowed. 6 I was driving to deliver the documents, stopped at a red light, when a car slammed into me from behind. I stomped on the brake, but the car behind me kept accelerating. I laid on the horn, but they just pushed harder, until my car was shoved violently into a wall. Half my body was thrown out the window, my chest crushed between the airbag and the seat. I couldn’t breathe. We were on a deserted road. No one saw. My phone had been thrown somewhere in the car, out of reach. The door of the other car finally opened. Asher stumbled out, reeking of alcohol. He made a shaky phone call. A few minutes later, Ava’s car pulled up. I forced the air from my lungs, shouting through the pain. “Ava! Help me!” “Ava! I’m here!” Asher cried, collapsing onto the pavement. Ava looked from me, covered in blood, to Asher, who had a minor scrape on his ankle. She hesitated for a second, then rushed past me and helped Asher to his feet. “Ava!” I gasped, my vision swimming. “Help me first! Or just call 911! I… I can’t breathe…” “Stop being so dramatic,” she snapped. “It won’t take long to get him to the hospital. I’ll come back with an ambulance for you. Can’t you stop competing with Asher for once? Can’t you see he’s in real danger?” “Ava, I…” I tried to say more, but she was already helping Asher into her car. My pleas were lost in the dust. I don’t remember passing out. Or how a passerby found me and called for help. Thanks to timely medical treatment, my injuries weren’t life-threatening. The first thing I did was report the accident to the police. They traced the license plate back to Asher and opened an investigation. But when they questioned him, he was terrified. “I’m sorry… Leo, I don’t know what happened. I… I was sick.” “‘Sick’ gives you the right to nearly kill someone?!” I slammed my fist on the table. “Do you have any idea how close I was to dying?” “Stop it!” Ava pushed me away. “He has depression! Don’t you dare harass him!” “Depression?” I frowned. Sure enough, she produced a psychiatric evaluation. “He was having an episode. Do you have any idea how much he suffers?” I looked at the report and laughed. “You can buy a report like this from any shady clinic. What kind of depressive episode allows you to perfectly stage a hit-and-run in a place with no cameras, with your foot on the gas the entire time? This wasn’t an episode, it was attempted murder!” “Can you please stop tormenting a sick man? Do you need him to actually die before you’ll believe he’s ill?” Faced with her fury, I grabbed Asher by the collar. “Fine. Let’s see what the police have to say about his ‘illness’.” “Ah! No!” Asher started trembling. With just a slight tug from me, he acted as if I’d thrown him across the room. He crashed to the floor, knocking over a medical cart and cutting himself on the equipment. The police rushed in. Ava gritted her teeth. “Officer, I’d like to report Mr. Leo Anderson for assault!” Asher quickly underwent a new evaluation, this one signed by a reputable doctor. When Ava personally submitted the report, I recognized the doctor’s signature. He was one of her business partners. “Ava, I’m the victim here!” I screamed. She instinctively shielded Asher. “Alright, according to the public security regulations, you’ll be detained for a while. I’ll come get you in fifteen days.” Behind her, I saw a triumphant smirk on Asher’s face. I finally understood. It was all a setup. My flight was in two days. A fifteen-day detention would ensure I missed my transfer. There was only one spot available. With me out of the picture, Ava could easily use her influence to get him the position. And he, with his convenient mental health diagnosis, would walk away scot-free. “Ava, you can’t do this to me! You’re fabricating evidence!” Asher’s eyes turned red. “Leo, do I really have to die before you’ll believe me?” He lunged towards the wall, ready to smash his head against it. Ava threw her hand up, blocking his forehead. SLAP! She hit me, her eyes blazing. “Have you no conscience?” “Ava!” I tried to rush at her, but the police were already separating us. “Sir, if you continue to be violent, your detention will be extended.” I could only stand there, teeth clenched, as Ava led Asher away. “I’ll come for you in fifteen days,” she said over her shoulder. All my hope vanished. My one chance was gone. I spent two days in a daze in the holding cell. My phone had been confiscated. Ms. Lang had no idea what had happened to me. After a few hours of not being able to reach me, she would probably just leave without me. I felt a pang of guilt. She had given me so many opportunities, and when I finally accepted one, I’d let her down. “Leo Anderson?” A police officer appeared at my cell door. “Come on. Someone’s posted your bail.”

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6. A tall man with sharp, predatory eyes stormed in, flanked by two thuggish-looking cronies. I shrank back into the room, my heart pounding. “Get out. This spot is ours now!” the tall man snarled. I recognized him. He was the most aggressive one at the bakery yesterday, the one who had physically ripped bread out of other players’ hands. I knew I couldn’t fight him. I decided to give up my sanctuary. But as I reached the door, he whipped out a knife and pressed the cold blade against my throat. “Hand over all your money and food. Now. Or I’ll gut you.” The crazed, cruel look in their eyes told me they weren’t bluffing. My mind raced. Fight back? I wouldn’t stand a chance. Give them my money? That was the same as being eliminated, saddled with a massive debt. What could I do? I swallowed hard. “Hey, man, let’s just talk about this. Robbery will get you eliminated by the system.” “Shut up! I’m not asking again.” The blade pressed deeper. I stopped resisting. I transferred my entire $10 balance to him. Staying alive was the only way to win the prize. The tall man snatched the money and shoved me out of the room. As they slammed the door shut, I heard them gloating. “Mugging players works like a charm. Good thing he told us it wouldn’t get us kicked out. We’ll never have to worry about money again.” He? Who were they talking about? Robbing an NPC was forbidden, but robbing, or even killing, another player was apparently fair game. Who knew the rules so well? It was only day two, and I had lost everything. No money, no food. Was this the end? A moment later, another anonymous broadcast echoed: [Attention! Saltine crackers are now on sale at the 24-hour convenience store in Departures, Zone B!] The equipment room door opened. The tall man and his lackeys emerged. I quickly ducked into the shadows and followed them toward the store. They spent every cent of their stolen money on crackers. The moment the transaction completed, the system’s voice boomed: [Players 5, 49, and 61 have been eliminated for overspending. Debt: $200,000.] The tall man howled in disbelief. “But this was money I stole! How is that overspending—” Before he could finish, he vanished in a flash of light. His two cronies disappeared a second later. Dozens of bags of crackers and several loaves of bread clattered to the floor. I sprinted forward, shucked off my jacket, and used it to scoop up every last crumb. My hunch was right. The system said overspending led to elimination, but with only a $10 starting fund, how could anyone overspend? There was only one possibility: using another player’s stolen money, if it took your total spending over the initial $10 limit, counted as overspending. But the tall man hadn’t been eliminated for stealing bread from other players. That meant plundering food was allowed. I could see the days ahead. Players who figured out the rules would turn on each other, fighting brutally for scraps. I had to hide this food. With this stash, I could definitely last until the end. I found five separate, secure hiding spots and distributed my supplies. One location per day. That was the plan for the next five days. After all that, my Stamina was critically low, flashing a warning. I had no choice but to go back to a terminal chair and force myself to sleep sitting up. 7. Day three. A heart-wrenching coughing fit ripped through the quiet morning, snapping everyone’s attention to a young woman, Player 47. She was curled up on a cold metal bench, her body shaking violently, her face flushed a deep, alarming red. Her boyfriend, another player, looked at her with disgust. “What’s wrong with you? You have a fever? Don’t tell me you’re not gonna make it to day seven!” The woman’s voice was a weak, hoarse whisper. “I’m just… so cold. It hurts. Alex, can you just hold me?” “No way. What if you get me sick?” he shot back, stepping away. Without warning, a shrill alarm blared throughout the terminal. The heavy, rhythmic tread of boots echoed from a nearby corridor. A team in full white hazmat suits appeared and efficiently lifted the sick woman onto a stretcher. “Let me go! I don’t want to be eliminated!” she screamed in terror, reaching for her boyfriend. “Alex, help me! Help me!” But Alex didn’t even look back. He just turned and ran. The hazmat team ignored her cries, wheeling the stretcher away as the other players watched in horror. Seconds later, the broadcast: [Player 47, deemed a severe public health risk, has been removed from the game area for quarantine. Eliminated! Debt: $200,000!] [Player 87, deemed a severe public health risk, has been removed… Eliminated! Debt: $200,000!] Players exchanged wary, suspicious glances. “Player 87 was the one eating out of the trash yesterday. He’s been sick all morning.” “So you can’t get a cold, and you can’t get food poisoning.” Who would be next? Every cough, every throat clear, sent a fresh jolt of fear through the terminal. Another rule learned: do not get sick. I survived the day on my hidden bread and crackers. The airport was even colder now, a true icebox. I found a Mylar emergency blanket in the trash, the kind hikers use. It was far better at retaining heat than my flimsy airline blanket. Day four. The number of eliminated players was climbing steadily. When I woke, I set out to retrieve my daily ration. Avoiding the main crowds, I made my way to my first hiding spot: a narrow gap behind a large planter in a deserted restroom area. I knelt and reached into the familiar crevice. Empty. There was nothing there. My heart plummeted. I searched again, frantically, but found nothing, not even a crumb. Panicked, I ran to the next location. Nothing. And the next. Nothing. All four of my remaining stashes had been cleaned out. My entire life-saving supply of crackers and bread, gone overnight. My guaranteed win had just been completely upended. To find all my spots so precisely and empty them so quietly… this wasn’t the work of an ordinary player. Who was it? Who had been watching me? My morale hit rock bottom. I tried the free sample circuit again, but with more players desperate, the stores had gotten wise. All samples were gone. Even the Starbucks condiment bar was bare. The trash cans had become battlegrounds. Players were still risking food poisoning to find something, anything. By the time I checked, there wasn’t even a scrap left. By 10 PM, all my meters were flashing red alerts. Desperate, I walked toward the luxury retail wing of the airport. Another player whispered as I passed, “Looks like she’s done for. What’s she gonna do in the designer stores?” 8. In a trash can near the luxury shops, I found what I was looking for: several discarded shopping bags and empty boxes from high-end brands. Passengers often ditched the packaging before their flights to avoid import taxes. I carefully placed the pristine boxes into the best-looking bag and headed down to the first-floor departure hall. During my earlier scouting, I’d noticed a 24/7 high-end restaurant there: Dragon’s Hearth. I was going to scam a free place to rest and some free food. Pushing through the heavy glass doors, I was hit by a wave of warm air and the rich aroma of simmering broth. A smiling hostess hurried over. “Welcome! A table for how many?” “Two,” I said, my voice raspy. I casually placed the conspicuous luxury bag on an adjacent chair. “A quiet spot, please. I’m waiting for someone.” The hostess’s eyes flickered to the bag, and her smile widened. “Of course, right this way!” Anyone who could afford that much luxury wasn’t here to scam a free meal. She led me to a semi-private booth with plush, cushioned seating. The moment I sat down, I pulled out my phone and dialed a nonexistent number. As the fake call “connected,” my voice, choked with emotion, echoed through the quiet restaurant. “I’m at Dragon’s Hearth. I bought a ticket to Paris for 3 AM. If you don’t show up, you will never see me again!” I slammed the phone down on the table, my eyes instantly welling with tears. The hostess quickly returned with a bowl of warm, sweet herbal soup and a small plate of fruit. “Ma’am, please calm down,” she said, her voice soothing. “Have some soup. Is your boyfriend giving you trouble?” My voice was thick with emotion. “Thank you. I just can’t eat, knowing he’s with his perfect ex right now.” “You have to eat, especially when you’re upset,” she said, placing the soup in front of me. “You need your strength for when he comes crawling back.” I nodded and took a small sip. The warm liquid soothed my parched throat. My stomach was screaming, but I had to hold back. The hostess returned with a complimentary bowl of steamed custard. Feigning heartbreak, I went to the condiment bar and quickly scooped three large spoonfuls of savory minced beef into my custard. Back at my seat, I forced myself to eat with elegant, small bites, all while keeping a wary eye on the staff. The hostess seemed to have radar. “Ma’am, since you’re feeling down, would you like to try our new tomato broth? It’s sweet and sour, very appetizing!” A vibrant red bowl of soup appeared before me. “Can I get you some snacks?” A plate of free french fries followed. “Any word from your boyfriend yet?” The hostess leaned in again, her eyes full of gossip and sympathy, seemingly more invested in my drama than I was. Alarm bells went off in my head. She was checking on me too often. I immediately switched gears. Tears filled my eyes again, my voice trembling with despair. “Is he really not coming? I never really planned to leave…” I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking. “Oh, don’t cry, don’t cry!” The hostess panicked, rushing back with a giant, fluffy teddy bear. “Let him keep you company! You’re so beautiful, your boyfriend will definitely regret this!” Hugging the soft bear, the exhaustion was overwhelming. My Stamina was critical. I had to rest. I secretly set a vibrating alarm for 2 AM, then, looking completely emotionally drained, I curled up on the soft sofa and closed my eyes. As I drifted off, I prayed they wouldn’t kick me out. I don’t know how long I slept, but the hostess gently woke me. “Miss, isn’t your flight about to depart?” Right on cue, my phone began to vibrate violently. My alarm. In a flash, I grabbed the phone and, without looking, screamed into it with my pre-planned lines. “I waited for you for four hours! Are you still not coming? Is she really that important? I’m leaving! I’m really leaving this time! Can’t you just come and see me one last time?” I ended the call and buried my face in the teddy bear, making it look like I was sobbing. The manager, who had been approaching, stopped, shook his head, and walked away. The hostess kindly brought me a blanket. I slept on that plush sofa all night. The next morning, as I was about to leave, the hostess brought me a complimentary breakfast of soy milk, congee, and a tea-infused egg. “You go, girl!” she said with an encouraging smile. “You’ll find someone better! This is a new beginning for you!” Since I hadn’t ordered anything, I didn’t pay. I thanked her quietly and walked out the glass doors. My Stamina and Hunger meters were completely full. It was a shameless tactic, and one I could only use once. I had just played my trump card. 9. Day five. I ran into Cole and his group right outside the restaurant. His team had swelled to over twenty people. They were in the middle of distributing crackers. When I saw the packaging, my mind went blank with rage. Those were my crackers. I had torn a tiny corner off each bag as a marker. I stormed over. “Cole! You stole my crackers!” He just smiled and offered me one. “Don’t be mad. I told you, you should have joined us.” “Give them back.” “Take a look around,” he said, gesturing to his followers. “Do they look like they want to give them back?” Twenty pairs of greedy eyes stared back at me. I snatched the cracker he offered and took a step back. “Can I join you now?” “Too late, Ava,” he said with that same disarming smile. “This was never a solo game. The only way to survive is to team up and take resources from other players. You have no money and no food. You have nothing of value to us.” At that moment, a new system directive came through: [Welcome to Day 5. To increase the entertainment value, all public water fountains will now be shut off. Water from restrooms is contaminated and not safe for consumption.] The public channel exploded with rage. “Entertainment value? Screw you!” “No water? For three more days?! They’re trying to kill us!” Cole’s team started to get agitated, the fear of dehydration eclipsing their momentary joy over the food. But Cole remained calm, raising a hand to quiet them. “What’s the panic? It’s just water.” He shot a sideways glance at me. “The other players still have water. We just have to take it.” My stomach dropped. Before I could run, twenty pairs of bloodshot eyes locked onto me. The mob descended like hyenas smelling blood. “Let go! It’s mine!” I clutched my backpack, but I was hopelessly outnumbered. The strap was ripped from my shoulder, the zipper torn open. My two full water bottles were wrenched from my grasp. The few sugar packets I had left scattered on the floor and were instantly snatched up. I was shoved to the ground. Cole’s voice was ice-cold. “Be grateful we’re letting you live. Now get lost.” I scrambled to my feet and ran. Not from Cole, but for water. I had to get there before anyone else figured it out—the liquid disposal area. TSA regulations meant passengers couldn’t bring liquids over 100ml through security. At the checkpoint, they had to discard their water bottles, sodas, and juices in special large bins. I sprinted to the domestic departures security checkpoint. There they were: three massive, transparent disposal bins, each half as tall as me. They were overflowing with half-full and even unopened bottles of water, sports drinks, sodas, teas, and juices. Two TSA agent NPCs stood nearby. Simply rummaging through the bins was out of the question; it would trigger the security alarm. I couldn’t wait any longer. I pasted an expression of sheer panic on my face and rushed toward the checkpoint, heading straight for the bins. “Excuse me, coming through!” I yelled, my voice cracking, pushing past the people in line and successfully getting the agents’ attention. “Ma’am, you need to get in line!” a middle-aged agent said, blocking my path. “I’m so sorry, sir!” I said, speaking a mile a minute, my voice filled with genuine-sounding panic as I pointed at the bins. “I think my ring fell in there! It was my grandmother’s! Please, let me just look for it! It’ll only take a second, I promise!” Tears welled up in my eyes on command. The agent hesitated, then stepped aside. “Be quick about it! Don’t hold up the line!” “Thank you, sir! Thank you!” I practically dove for the bins. “So I don’t make a mess, I’ll just take these bags over here to sort through,” I said, hoisting the three giant plastic liners out of the bins and dragging them to a spot just out of the agents’ line of sight. Jackpot. This was more than enough water to last three days. I quickly emptied one bag and filled it with all the unopened bottles, then scurried away from the security area, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn’t stop until I found a secluded accessible restroom and locked the door. No one could know I had this much water. I stood on the toilet, pushed up a ceiling tile, and stashed half my supply in the crawlspace. I hid the rest in several other nooks and crannies around the terminal before repeating the entire process at the international departures checkpoint. It wasn’t greed. I had a much bigger plan.

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