Category: English

Nate and I were childhood friends, practically inseparable since we were in diapers. His girlfriend hated it. They constantly fought because of me, playing out this endless drama of breaking up and getting back together, her running away and him chasing after her. It wasn’t until a group dinner that she decided to call me out in front of everyone. “Chloe, how about I set you up with someone? You know, so you stop being the third wheel.” The room went dead silent. I glanced at the man sitting next to Nate—his best friend, Julian. Then I smiled and shook my head. “No thanks. I already have a boyfriend.” The next second, Nate’s face went dark. His hand clenched around his wine glass until it shattered. 1 Nate and Sarah got back together. Again. When I heard the news, I felt absolutely nothing. Penny was texting me the gossip with her usual enthusiasm: Penny: [They were broken up for a whole three months this time. A new record.] Penny: [Apparently Sarah ran off to Paris in a huff, and Nate actually flew out there to win her back.] Penny: [Two years, five breakups. Do they ever get tired?] I laughed but didn’t reply. Penny: [Bet you anything Nate’s gonna be blowing up the group chat about a celebratory dinner…] Penny: [You going?] I sent a sticker of a cat saying “No way.” Me: [Pass. I have to practice. The concerto competition is next month.] Penny: [Fair enough. I’m going though. Gotta see the train wreck in person. I’ll report back with tea.] Me: [Deal. Good luck.] I put my phone down and picked up my violin. About thirty minutes later, I checked my phone again. Penny had sent another message. She seemed hesitant this time. Penny: [By the way… do you know why they broke up last time?] Me: [No clue.] Penny replied instantly. Penny: [Rumor has it… Sarah found out Nate’s phone passcode. It was your birthday.] 2 On Friday, the dormant group chat exploded. Just as predicted, Nate announced that he and Sarah were back together and he was treating everyone to dinner at our usual spot, The Rusty Anchor. The responses were a mix of congratulations and roasting. [Congrats, bro. Again.] [Nate, you’re slipping. Took you way too long this time!] [Is there a punch card for these ‘back together’ dinners? Do we get a free sub eventually?] … I was typing out an excuse to decline when Sarah tagged me directly. Sarah: [@Chloe You have to come!] Me: [Sorry, I’m really busy with rehearsals.] Sarah: [Oh come on, it’s just dinner!] Sarah: [I know I’ve misunderstood your relationship with Nate in the past, and I probably made things awkward for you.] Sarah: [I just want to apologize in person. Please?] The chat went dead silent. No one typed a thing. I gripped my phone, annoyance bubbling up in my chest. After a moment, I typed: [Fine. See you there.] 3 By the time I arrived, the private room was already buzzing. When I pushed the door open, the chatter stopped for a second. Nate was sitting at the head of the table. When he saw me, the tension in his forehead visibly relaxed. “Took you long enough,” he said, patting the empty chair next to him. “Sit here.” Sarah’s smile faltered for a microsecond, but she recovered quickly, looping her arm through Nate’s in a clear possessive gesture. “Chloe! You made it! We were waiting for you.” “Sorry, traffic was a nightmare.” Nate’s eyes were glued to me as I spoke. I ignored him and walked straight past the empty seat to the corner where Penny was waving frantically. As soon as I sat down, Sarah walked over with a glass of wine. “Chloe, I’m so glad you came. “I know I used to get jealous and misunderstand things between you and Nate. I made a scene more than once, and frankly, it was embarrassing. “I’m sure it was annoying for you too. So, I wanted to say sorry. I hope you don’t hold it against me.” She stood over me, looking down with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But don’t worry, it won’t happen again! “Nate promised me. He explained that even though you guys grew up together, he just sees you as a little sister. That’s all it is—brotherly concern. “And you used to follow him around everywhere because you saw him as a big brother too, right?” The room went quiet again. Everyone was suddenly very interested in their silverware or napkins. Nate was staring at me, waiting for my answer. Penny rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to snap back, but I put a hand on her arm to stop her. I picked up the wine glass in front of me, stood up, and looked Sarah dead in the eye. “I’m glad we cleared that up. Apology accepted,” I said with a polite smile. “Nate’s right. We’re just neighbors. Don’t waste energy misunderstanding him anymore. It’s bad for the relationship.” I raised my glass to her. “Cheers. Wishing you guys a lifetime of happiness.” I downed the drink. Thud. Nate slammed his glass onto the table, his face cold. He looked annoyed, but he kept his voice controlled. “You can’t handle alcohol. Put it down.” Sarah’s face went pale. Her knuckles turned white around the stem of her glass. Because Nate wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to me. 4 I met Nate when we were eight. Our families lived next door. In elementary school, I started learning the violin. Nate would stand in his yard covering his ears, yelling, “Chloe! Are you killing a cat in there?” In middle school, he tutored me in math, tapping my forehead with his pen when I zoned out. “Chloe, focus! Are you trying to fail?” In high school, I tripped during track and field. He carried me to the nurse’s office on his back, his voice shaking. “Chloe, does it hurt? Say something!” And when my parents died in a car accident my junior year, he held my hand at the funeral, telling me over and over, “Chloe, don’t be scared. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” We were the childhood sweethearts everyone rooted for. We were in every chapter of each other’s lives. I thought he meant it when he said he’d always be there. Until Sarah joined our orchestra class. Nate started talking about her constantly. He said, “Chloe, don’t you think Sarah looks a little like you?” “How?” “She plays the violin just as badly as you used to.” He said, “Chloe, Sarah’s pretty cool. Can you get her number for me?” Then he said, “Chloe, Sarah and I are dating.” …

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After recovering his memories and resuming his life as the scion of an Old Money dynasty, everyone assumed Julian Sterling would divorce me. Now, a single cufflink on his wrist is worth millions. And I, holding our daughter’s hand, am just the “shampoo girl from the trailer park” in the eyes of his elite friends. We look like we belong to different species. But the man looked at me with indifferent eyes and said only, “Stay by my side.” I thought our marriage still counted. I thought I was still his lawful wife. Later, news of his engagement to an heiress spread through the entire Upper East Side. As for me, he said with certainty: “Nora is still here. She won’t leave.” I simply smoothed the hem of my dress and went to his mother: “I want to leave.” Later, I went south alone. I didn’t take the child. I didn’t take him. 1 “Mommy, is Daddy going to marry someone else?” When Sunny asked this, the spoon in my hand clinked against the porcelain bowl. I turned around to meet her innocent, confused eyes, filled with layers of grievance. I stroked her hair, instinctively forcing a laugh. “How could Daddy marry someone else? Where did you hear such nonsense?” She picked at her fingers, her small mouth trembling. “Ms. Higgins said it. She also said… Sunny is a bastard child. Mommy, what is a bastard child?” A child’s voice is crisp and sweet, but those words hit my chest like a sledgehammer. I didn’t have time to think. I just hugged her tight, comforting her, but mostly trying to keep myself sane. “Sunny will always be Daddy and Mommy’s treasure. Ms. Higgins is just… sick lately.” I tapped her nose with a smile. “You know how people get confused when they’re sick, right?” She pursed her lips and smiled a little, scrunching her nose. “Confused heads talk nonsense.” I smiled back. “Exactly. You’re so smart.” The little girl hugged her stuffed rabbit and rested her head on my hand. “Mommy, don’t be sad.” My palm burned. My eyes stung. It took everything I had not to cry at her clumsy attempt to comfort me. I stared at her, my gaze moving from her face to the stuffed rabbit in her arms. The rabbit was grey and plain, with droopy ears. It looked like nothing special, but it cost $12,000. She had a room full of toys like this. Who would have thought that a year ago, the best we could give her was a $10 toy from Walmart? The room was carpeted with plush wool, silencing my footsteps. I no longer needed to tiptoe out of her room like I used to in our thin-walled trailer. Ms. Higgins was the nanny Julian brought from the Sterling estate to take care of us. I always knew she didn’t like me or Sunny. Later, I found out she had a daughter who had been in love with Julian for years. The villa’s security cameras were high-definition. I heard every word clearly: “The mother has no title, no ring. If the kid isn’t a bastard, what is she?” I looked down, clenching my fists until my nails dug into my palms. 2 The day Julian suddenly recovered his memory, he got into a car accident. When I rushed to the hospital with Sunny, he was sitting up in bed. Hearing us, he turned his head slowly. He was still wearing the faded clothes he left the house in that morning, but his eyes were so unfamiliar that I froze. Before, whenever Sunny called him “Daddy,” no matter what he was doing, he would squat down to answer her. But that day, Sunny’s voice grew quieter with each call. It wasn’t until the seventh time that he gave a faint acknowledgment. I was terrified by his strangeness, but also relieved he was alive. In a person’s life, no matter how much love a newcomer gives, the soul always seeks its origin. Only then is one complete. I just didn’t know then that between him and me, between his world and our trailer park, lay a canyon a thousand miles wide. I thought about it countless times. If fate hadn’t played a trick, our lives wouldn’t have crossed for generations. When the Sterling family came to pick him up, they were swift and discreet. They didn’t even alert the neighbors. Even with my limited understanding of the world, I knew in that moment: I couldn’t stop him from leaving. And once he left, we would never meet again. I looked at our empty, unfinished house. The money we saved over the years was only enough for the frame. The walls were bare concrete. We needed to save for a few more years to finish it. We always said Sunny was still small; we could finish it later. In the chaos of my thoughts, I made a rational decision. I reached out to him. “You can go. But for saving your life, for our time as husband and wife, and for your duty as a father, you should give me a sum of money. I need to raise Sunny.” I couldn’t keep him, but logic dictated I should keep what I could. Under the dim light of a naked bulb hanging from a wire, Julian looked at my outstretched hand for a long time. No one knew what he was thinking. I only remember him grabbing my cold hand, his voice lazy and detached. “What are you thinking? You and Sunny are coming back with me.” So that day, a black SUV drove straight onto a private ferry, leaving the island. Until we boarded the private jet, no one knew who was inside. Maybe I was too greedy, using the excuse of giving Sunny a complete family to step into a completely alien world. Everyone thought Julian brought me back just for show, that we would divorce soon. But for a year, no matter how busy or late, he came back to this villa. Earlier, I heard him come in. I needed to discuss Sunny with Julian. He needed to handle this. We had a marriage license, a wedding. Sunny was born of love and expectation. She was never a bastard. Julian promised that once things settled, we would register our marriage under his real identity. If he knew Sunny was being called names, he would be furious. Walking down the stairs, I rehearsed my words, trying to be tactful. The villa was so big it felt empty. I checked a few rooms but didn’t see him. At the turn of the stairs, a voice came from a slightly ajar door. 3 “Julian, the Madam says you’ve picked a date for the engagement?” Engagement? I thought I was hearing things. The word “engagement” and Julian didn’t belong in the same sentence. He had a child. He had a wife. How could he get engaged to someone else? Through the crack, I saw a man in a bespoke suit, looking impatient as he loosened his tie. His cufflinks gleamed under the light. “My mother told you?” He lit a cigarette, smoke curling around his sharp nose. “Stop prying. And keep your mouth shut in this house.” “Everyone knows, Julian. I didn’t need to ask your mother. I’m happy for you. Marrying the heiress of the Vanderbilt family is the right path.” “Your father let that illegitimate brother of yours into the house while you were gone. He almost took your place.” “You are the legitimate heir. A legitimate marriage should be with a proper family.” “It’s just… that Miss Ning. How do you plan to settle her? Send her back to the countryside?” Julian glanced at her. “Are you joking? She doesn’t need to leave. And she won’t. Sunny is here. Where would she go?” The old nanny laughed. “True. Just keep her as a mistress. It doesn’t matter.” From my corner, I clearly saw the indifference in his eyes. Power and privilege truly reshape a person’s soul. In the past, his eyes never held this cold, god-like detachment. He used to stand awkwardly in front of a flower stall, smiling humbly, haggling patiently for a bouquet I liked. It wasn’t until this moment that I truly woke up. The man named Nathan, my husband, died the moment he became Julian Sterling again. I clutched my phone, my heart a hollow cavity. I desperately needed something to fill the void. I looked around, suddenly desperate to see my daughter. I quickened my steps, shutting out the voices from that room. “And,” he stubbed out the cigarette, “how many times do I have to say it? Call her by her name or Mrs. Sterling. What is this ‘Miss Ning’ nonsense?” “The food on the table, did she not touch a bite?” I hadn’t eaten. She deliberately didn’t clear the table. “She’s hard to serve. Why don’t you eat some? It’s all your favorites.” “Ms. Higgins, you better remember why I let you in here. It’s been a year, and you still don’t know she’s allergic to eggs? If you can’t do simple things, go back to the estate. Plenty of people can do your job.” Julian rarely lost his temper with her. She had been with his mother for decades. A man born into privilege, after years of hardship, had lost his temper but learned to treat everyone with polished grace. Seeing her bow apologetically, he offered no comfort. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and walked out. 4 I pushed open the door to Sunny’s room. Seeing her sleeping face, my breathing slowed. If anything had kept me from collapsing under the gossip this past year, it was her. From a barren village to the neon metropolis, the world had opened a new door for me. Behind this heavy door lay a dazzling world I had never touched and was destined never to belong to. For a year, I was lost in a fog, thinking true love conquered prejudice, that life would be brilliant forever. But now, I needed to think. A warm hand touched mine. I looked down. The sleeping girl was frowning, gripping my hand tight. I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, straightened my back, and held her small hand. “Don’t be afraid. Mommy is here.” “Why aren’t you asleep?” A slightly hoarse voice came from behind, accompanied by the scent of whiskey. I didn’t turn around. I tucked the blanket in. “Julian, when are we going to get our marriage license?” It wasn’t a conversation for a bedroom. We walked down the hall to his study. I crossed my arms, keeping a distance, adopting a negotiating stance. He glanced at me. Perhaps he didn’t care, so he didn’t question my sudden seriousness. He chuckled lightly, taking off his watch, his posture relaxed. “The books I gave you, did you finish them?” How did I not see this obvious evasion before? It was different. It was all different. Julian was just Julian. I turned away, silent. When he made that decision to engage, he knew how helpless I would feel. But now, he ignored that helplessness. I looked at the desk on the left. It was piled high with books—art appreciation, economics, management theory. For the past year, he had been like a farmer forcing a crop to grow, trying to transform me overnight. I thought it was because I embarrassed him. But he never hid me. He introduced me to his friends openly. But I had nothing to talk about with them. They talked about stocks, global economics, tariffs, billion-dollar deals. So when I came back from the restroom and heard them call me the “shampoo girl from the trailer park,” I couldn’t find a reason to be sad. I never mentioned it to Julian. I learned etiquette quickly. Even if I didn’t, people wouldn’t dare embarrass me to my face because of him. When he first told me to take the SATs and go to college, I thought it was absurd. I was anxious to prove something. “College is for getting a job to make money. I can make money.” “Degrees don’t make billionaires. I don’t think skipping college stops me from earning.” “Remember when I met you? I owed five grand. In a few years, I paid it back, built a house, and opened two salons.” “I’m good at making money. My salon is still number one in town…” Under Julian’s helpless gaze, my voice trailed off. I smiled lonely. “I forgot. Your family doesn’t need money.” He said casually, “Just study. If you get in, we’ll get the license.” I looked at him seriously. “Really? If I get in, will your mother like me?” He paused, silent for a moment. “She will.” I had good grades in high school. If not for bad luck, college would have been easy. When I got the acceptance letter, Julian donated a building to the university, as was the Sterling custom. I was supposed to start in September. But now… I looked at Julian. Under the lamp, he was flipping through my notes.

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The New Year’s Day family gathering. The kids convinced my son to wear the bulky Red Pony costume. They rode him, kicked and beat him, and finally buried him alive in a snowdrift. I went hysterical, screaming for someone to call the police, only to have my relatives accuse me of harming my own child. My husband stood right there, trying to talk me down. “Just sign the waiver, Amy. It was an accident. We can’t let the kids face charges and ruin their futures.” After they successfully framed me, I broke. I remember walking into traffic and the sudden, blinding impact. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to New Year’s Day. I immediately called my mom, urging her to come get my son. “Leo, you’re sleeping at Grandma’s tonight. Don’t come back.” They had just cleared the gates of our Stone Creek Estates community when I turned and saw the red pony costume. My heart seized. I scanned the yard. All the cousins, my in-laws’ children, were accounted for. Every one of them was here. So, the costume that had appeared out of thin air… who was inside it? 1 The pony costume staggered forward, and a muffled voice called out. “Daddy.” I whipped my head around. The costume was facing my husband, Ryan Foster, who was standing with a few male relatives, smoking and laughing. I quickly checked the yard again. My sister-in-law Savannah’s son was building a snowman, my Aunt Carol’s twins were having a snowball fight, and the others were playing in small groups. All accounted for. Did… did Leo sneak back home? The thought sent a shudder of icy terror through me. “No, no,” I whispered to myself, fumbling for the phone in my pocket. I had to call my mother, to be sure. Suddenly, a large hand shot out and snatched the phone away. “The guests are here, Amy. What are you doing, standing around like a ghost?” Ryan had walked up behind me without me noticing. “Go greet people. Did you check on the stew in the kitchen?” I was about to speak when my sister-in-law, Savannah, hooked her arm through mine, leaning in with a sickeningly familiar intimacy. “Hey, sis. Come inside for a minute. I need to talk to you, just a heart-to-heart.” This was too familiar. In the last life, Savannah had used this exact “heart-to-heart” excuse to lure me into a guest room and lock me in for nearly an hour. When I finally got out, I only saw the children throwing snowballs at the snowman. My son, trapped inside that red costume, was already dead. That memory ripped through me. I violently yanked my arm free from Savannah and bolted toward the pony costume. But before I could take two steps, Aunt Carol and two other female relatives closed ranks around me. “Whoa, Amy, what’s with the attitude?” Aunt Carol’s heavy frame blocked my path. She smiled, though her eyes were hard. “Savannah wants to chat, and you’re acting like this?” “Seriously, it’s New Year’s. We rarely get the whole family together,” Tiffany, my cousin-in-law, grabbed my other arm. “Come on, let’s go inside and catch up. It’s freezing out here.” They were a human wall, pushing me back toward the house. I struggled, but the combined strength of the three women made me completely immobile. I twisted my head back toward the yard. The children had surrounded the pony costume. “Ride the pony! Ride the pony!” Savannah’s son shouted the words first. Several boys rushed the clumsy costume, shoving it down onto the snow, then climbing on top. One, two, three… they all piled on. The costume struggled feebly in the snow, unable to get up. “Stop it!” I shrieked, shoving Aunt Carol out of the way with every ounce of strength I had. “Get off! All of you! You’re going to hurt him!” Ryan intercepted me, his expression annoyed. “They’re just playing, Amy. Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?” “It’s a holiday, don’t be a buzzkill.” My mother-in-law, Helen, walked over, her face set in a frown. “Let Leo play with his cousins. It’s for his own good; he needs to integrate into this family. If you hover like this, how will he ever bond with his extended family?” “That’s not…” I wanted to scream that wasn’t my son, but the two sisters-in-law were now ‘supporting’ me, one on each side. They were smiling, but their grips were firm and painful, and they steered me back inside, forcing me down onto the living room sofa. “Just relax, Amy. Take a seat.” I was breathing hard, not from effort, but from sheer terror. The current scene was a perfect, chilling echo of the last life. The same blocks, the same excuses. I forced myself to calm down. I retrieved my phone and quickly typed a message. “Mom, where are you and Leo now?” A moment later, my mother replied. I tapped the voice note and held the phone to my ear. It was Leo’s voice. “Mommy! Grandma and I just got home!” “Grandma says she’s making dumplings tonight! When are you coming back?” I slumped back against the sofa, relief washing over me in a dizzying wave. Thank God. It wasn’t my son in the costume. But then, who was lying out there in the snow? 2 The pony costume began to shake again, and a muffled, frantic sound came from inside. “Let me go, let me go…” Savannah’s son shrieked with excitement. “Bury him! Bury him up to his head!” The children obeyed instantly. Snow chunks quickly covered the pony’s back, then its legs. The costume was still struggling, but the movements were becoming weaker and weaker. Even though it wasn’t my son, it was still a person. My conscience wouldn’t allow me to stand by and watch. “Make the children stop! Burying someone in the snow is dangerous!” I jumped up and yelled, but everyone around me simply laughed it off. Aunt Carol nonchalantly cracked a sunflower seed. “Oh, come on. What kind of trouble can kids get into? We all played like this when we were little.” Tiffany handed me a cup of hot tea, her smile sweet and gentle. “Leo isn’t even asking them to stop, Amy. Why are you so worried? Let them have their fun.” Helen gently patted my shoulder. “Amy, your mother-in-law needs to say this. Boys need to be toughened up; don’t make him so soft. Look at Ryan when he was a boy—all that roughhousing, and he turned out fine.” Every word was so familiar. They had said the exact same things in the previous life. Ryan sat down next to me, lowering his voice in a warning tone. “Amy, if you make a scene, you’re embarrassing me. It’s a holiday; don’t ruin the party for all the relatives.” I stared at him, feeling utterly disconnected. His eyes held no concern, no urgency, only impatient, cold reproach. “Aren’t you worried?” My voice was trembling. “What if something goes wrong? That’s your son.” Ryan chuckled, a dismissive, dry sound. “You’re too stressed. Nothing is going to happen.” A deep, chilling thought began to take root in my mind. From Savannah pulling me away, to Aunt Carol and Tiffany blocking me, to Helen’s dismissive advice, and now Ryan’s heavy-handed control. It was too smooth, too coordinated. It felt like a perfectly rehearsed play, where everyone knew their lines and their positions. Could they be doing this on purpose? The idea was terrifying, and I shivered uncontrollably. Outside, the snow was still falling, and the pony costume hadn’t moved in a while. Savannah glanced at the clock and called toward the yard. “Okay, time’s up… everyone come back inside for lunch!” The children ran back toward the house. Taking advantage of the sudden chaos, I darted outside. Hold on, kid. You’ve got to hold on. I prayed silently. I clawed the snow away with my bare hands. A small arm slid out of the costume’s sleeve. The hand was tiny, about the size of a seven or eight-year-old’s. It lay limply on the snow, the skin a disturbing blue-tinged purple. The relatives immediately gathered around, and when they saw the scene, a stunned silence fell over them. Someone finally whispered. “Is… is he dead?” 3 Savannah, being a nurse, knelt down and felt for a pulse. Everyone held their breath, waiting for her verdict. After a few seconds, she slowly let go of the arm. The small hand flopped lifelessly back onto the snow. “No pulse. He’s gone.” A wave of children’s screams immediately broke the silence. The adults rushed to comfort their own kids, their faces pale with panic. In the confusion, Ryan’s voice cut through the noise. “Jason, lock the front gate.” “Don’t let the neighbors hear anything. It’s the New Year. We don’t need gossip.” His brother hesitated for a moment, then hurried toward the yard gate, sliding the heavy security bolt shut. Ryan’s gaze swept over the bewildered children. “Everyone inside. Upstairs. Go to the game room. Remember, you didn’t see anything today. You were just playing in the snow, understood?” His tone was not a suggestion; it was an order. The children exchanged glances. A few of the younger ones were already crying, but the older kids pulled them along, and they soon disappeared up the staircase. I finally managed to gather my wits. My trembling hand reached for the pony costume’s head. I had to see who it was. Suddenly, Ryan shoved me hard. I stumbled and fell onto the frozen ground. His face was a mask of artificial grief and fury. “Now you care? Why didn’t you watch him earlier? Now that something has happened, it’s all your fault!” Helen’s wailing followed, perfectly timed. “How many times did I tell you, with all these people here, don’t let the kids run wild! You didn’t listen! Now this happens, are you satisfied?” The others quickly joined the chorus of accusation. “That costume is so hot and stuffy! I told you not to let him wear it! Why didn’t you, as his mother, listen to us?” “That’s right, we all said it was dangerous, but you said it was ‘festive’ and ‘just a game’…” One after another, the relatives acted out their parts like actors following a script. Each face held the same expression of sorrowful blame. I understood now. They were re-enacting the script from my previous life, determined to pin the blame for “my son’s death” entirely on me. I struggled to my feet, glaring at the group. “You’re twisting the truth! You did this. You all killed him!” They immediately looked irritated. Ryan grabbed me and dragged me back inside the house. “Amy, you are primarily responsible for this.” Savannah had already printed a document and now handed it to me. Ryan jammed a pen into my hand, pointing to the paper. “Just sign it. We can’t let the children get criminal records because of an accident.” My eyes fell on the paper. It was a Waiver of Liability for Accidental Death. I hereby acknowledge that due to my own negligence, the child suffered an accidental death during play, and I voluntarily waive the right to pursue any responsibility from family or friends, committing not to call the police or file a lawsuit… I looked up at him, my expression cold. “You know perfectly well it wasn’t me.” Ryan lowered his head, patiently trying to persuade me. “The child is dead, Amy. Do you really want to drag the whole family down with you?” The relatives nodded and sighed in perfect unison. Helen gripped my hand, her face full of false pity. “Amy, your son is gone, I know you hurt. But don’t make the other children suffer permanent psychological damage. They’re just so little, you can’t ruin their lives…” Aunt Carol chimed in. “We’re all family. Going to court would be a terrible spectacle for everyone. The child’s soul wouldn’t want to see the family tear itself apart.” When I didn’t react, Ryan’s voice went flat and hard. “If you don’t sign, you are the murderer who killed your own child. Everyone here will testify that you made him wear the costume. That you killed him.” I shifted my gaze from their faces back to the snowdrift in the yard. In the struggle, a corner of the costume had flipped up, revealing a sneaker. Dark blue running shoes with a white stripe on the side. Not Leo’s shoes. I raised my head, looking at my so-called ‘family’ one by one. “Are you all so sure the person who died is my son?” Everyone froze for a second, then they burst into relieved, condescending laughter. “Who else would it be?” Savannah’s eyes were still red from the forced tears, but her voice was back to normal. “Didn’t you bring the costume? Didn’t you put it on Leo?” Helen wiped her eyes, nodding firmly. “Yes, we all saw you put it on him with your own hands.” A lie repeated a thousand times had become their truth. They had convinced themselves of the story they invented. I looked at Ryan. His gaze flickered, but he quickly regained his composure. I took a deep breath and asked the question that had haunted me for two lifetimes. “Ryan Foster, because Leo isn’t your biological son, you don’t care that he’s dead. Is that it?” The air in the room solidified. Everyone knew Leo was my son from my first marriage. In the year since I married Ryan, he had played the part of the perfect stepfather. I knew he was a mama’s boy and overly devoted to his sister, but for a second marriage, I was willing to tolerate those flaws as long as he was good to my child. I never imagined he would become this. Ryan stared blankly, his eyes wide. He violently shook his head. “Amy, you’re distraught! Don’t say such crazy things!” But his panic was all the proof I needed. Helen was the first to react. She suddenly spun around and rushed into the kitchen, returning with a knife. “Are you signing or not? Sign it, and this goes away. Don’t sign…” Her eyes were fixed on my hand. I remembered the last life. When I refused to sign, she had hacked off two of my fingers. They had told the police I was mentally disturbed and had self-mutilated during an argument with my son. Everyone backed up the story. This time, I didn’t resist. I gave a small nod. “I’ll sign.” 4 A collective sigh of relief filled the living room as I finished the signature. Ryan patted my shoulder gently, a look of satisfied relief on his face. “There. It’s over. Let’s clean up and… handle the body.” The word ‘handle’ sounded as casual as if he were talking about cleaning up a dead fish. My eyes involuntarily drifted toward the window. “I want to see…” I took a step toward the door. Ryan’s arm quickly blocked my way. “Don’t look.” His voice dropped low. “It will only make it harder. Let Sav and them handle it. She has experience.” Has experience. That phrase made my stomach clench. I looked up at him. “Can we call the police now? A child is dead. We have to report it.” Ryan’s expression froze for a moment. He then put his arm around my shoulder and guided me back to the couch. “Amy, you just signed the waiver, remember? It was an accident. We can manage this ourselves; why make a public spectacle?” He paused for a heartbeat, his voice dropping even lower. “The accidental death policy for Leo… are you the beneficiary?” My breath hitched. He hadn’t asked that question in the previous life. Last time, I was too busy screaming and trying to call the police, and they were busy restraining me and managing the scene. But now, Ryan brought it up. I looked into his eyes, which were too close, and saw the cold, calculated gleam of an opportunist. “Yes.” I nodded slowly. “I’m his birth mother. Of course, I am.” Ryan’s eyes immediately brightened. “The payout should be around eight hundred thousand dollars. I need you to promise that once you receive the money, you’ll transfer it to Sav.” Ryan’s tone was utterly entitled. “She found a perfect condo in a great school district, but she’s just short on the down payment. We’re family, we have to support each other.”

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I was on the local news when I was born, simply for being too beautiful. By my first birthday, an embarrassing number of dynastic families were already swarming my parents, requesting a standing arrangement for a future marriage. When the tenth time a boy was hospitalized after fighting over me, my parents knew we had to move. They reluctantly packed up our lives and began using makeup to conceal my real face. I finally began to live what felt like a normal life. It was also the first time I truly felt the sharp, cold malice of the world without the armor of my looks. The day I was cornered, called a freak, and locked in a derelict storage room behind the gymnasium, I hit rock bottom. Then, Wyatt climbed in through the window. He took my hand and looked at me with an earnestness that was blinding. “Aria,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Beauty isn’t the only way to judge a person. You are you, and that’s what matters.” My heart hammered a desperate rhythm against my ribs. He was the first person to truly see me, and I was instantly gone. I worked harder than I ever had, making sure I got into the same university he chose. When my acceptance letter arrived, I clutched the paper, my hands shaking with nerves, ready to confess my feelings. But before I could speak, he beat me to it. “Aria, be my girlfriend.” The rush of pure, unexpected joy drowned me. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. For the next three years, Wyatt was everything. He was attentive, thoughtful, and protective. Everyone envied me for having such a handsome and sensitive boyfriend. Until the annual campus-wide holiday party. During a round of “Truth or Dare,” Wyatt drew the short straw and was dared to pick someone next to him for an impromptu ice-water challenge. The choice was between me and Savannah, the reigning campus queen. He chose me. The instant the ice water hit my head, my heart froze solid. 1 The bone-numbing chill ran from my scalp down to the soles of my feet. I gasped, shivering uncontrollably. The atmosphere in the private room had peaked with that single splash. Everyone erupted in cheers, their excitement oblivious to my discomfort. “That’s the move, Wyatt! Savannah is our campus face, our calling card. You can’t let the beauty suffer. Gotta sacrifice the girlfriend for the greater good!” “Seriously, who’d soak Savannah? If she caught a cold or got sick, we’d be stuck without our queen for days.” “Yeah, none of the other girls on campus even come close.” Savannah simply smirked, soaking up the attention with entitled grace. Someone held a microphone up to Wyatt like a reporter. “Mr. Wyatt, what was the psychological impulse behind that difficult choice?” The crowd leaned in, hungry for gossip. Wyatt irritably pushed the glass away. “Stop making a scene. I picked Aria only because Savannah mentioned she had a cold.” He walked over to me, pulling a clean hand towel from the server’s stand to gently wipe my face, then shrugged off his cashmere cardigan and draped it over my shoulders. My disguise, thanks to high-quality, theater-grade makeup, was still intact: my skin the color of wheat, the carefully drawn freckles that covered my cheeks, and my slightly puffy, unimpressive eyes. With my hair plastered wetly to my skull, I was, objectively, not attractive. Laughter rippled through the onlookers. A few girls who had always disliked me piped up. “Wyatt, seriously, why are you even dating Aria? You two are mismatched from head to toe.” Everyone believed I didn’t deserve Wyatt. I’d heard versions of this since we started dating. In the past, Wyatt would always scowl, tell them to take it back, and then reassure me that their opinions didn’t matter to him. But this time, he didn’t refute them. Savannah’s eyes were fixed on him, and I saw Wyatt’s peripheral glance straying right back to her. A sickening sourness rose in my throat. I instinctively grabbed Wyatt’s hand, but he flinched, pulling away instantly. I stared at him in shocked disbelief. Wyatt realized his mistake and quickly re-grasped my hand, but his gaze was shifting nervously. Just then, someone nearby announced, “Oh no, Savannah’s had too much champagne. Wyatt, you’re the only one with a car, can you drive her home?” “Sure.” He agreed without a moment’s hesitation. He turned to me. “Aria, Savannah lives on the opposite side of the city from you. I’ll call you a ride-share. You can head back, okay?” Before I could speak, others rushed to back him up. “What’s the big deal? She looks safe enough, nothing to worry about.” “Aria, you haven’t forgotten how to get home without your boyfriend, have you?” I opened my mouth, but the words stuck. My chest felt tight and heavy. Wyatt would never let me leave alone at night. He always insisted it was too dangerous for a young woman, and he’d wait outside, watching, until I was safely inside, even if it was just a few feet away. I squeezed his hand tightly. “Wyatt, I—” I was about to suggest I could ride along to drop Savannah off, but Savannah let out a painful groan. Wyatt instantly pulled his hand free and rushed to her side. He swept her up into his arms. I stood frozen in place, the party noise rushing into my ears. “Savannah looks flushed, she might have a fever!” “My bad, my bad, I shouldn’t have pushed her to drink with her cold.” Wyatt’s voice was urgent. “I’m taking her to the Urgent Care!” He dashed past me, cradling her, and his shoulder slammed hard into mine. I stumbled, falling to the ground, but he kept running, disappearing with the campus queen in his arms. 2 Between the dousing of ice water and the prolonged wait for a ride in the cold night air, I was predictably running a fever the next morning. I emailed my program advisor to request an extension and then called Wyatt. The phone rang for a long time before it was picked up. “W-Wyatt, I think I have a fever…” My voice was hoarse and weak. There was a silence, and then a woman’s voice—edged with a smug arrogance—came through the line. “Wyatt’s asleep. Do you want me to wake him?” My blood turned to ice. It took me a moment to find my voice. “Savannah? You’re at his place…” She chuckled. “To be precise, I am at his place. I was on an IV drip late last night, and my apartment is far. Wyatt brought me back here.” She paused, then her tone shifted to one of complete, assured victory. “Aria, you know, I could take Wyatt from you whenever I want. But taking your man would be far too easy.” Her words dripped with pride and confidence. You’re not even a worthy opponent, was the unspoken message. I balled my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. My voice was a cold whisper. “Wyatt isn’t some object. And he’s different from other guys.” Savannah laughed harder. “Defending him? Fine, I have something fun for you to hear.” She played a recording. Savannah’s slightly slurred, drunk voice was the first sound. “Wyatt, you never answered my question last night. Why are you really with Aria?” Then Wyatt’s voice: “She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s a good person. Why wouldn’t I be with her?” My tense muscles relaxed a fraction, and a faint, hopeful smile touched my lips. I knew it. Wyatt was different. But before I could feel any lasting relief, Savannah’s voice continued on the recording: “Is that so? Then why did you choose to take me home and not her? Why have you been sneaking glances at me all night?” “Wyatt, what if I told you that if you break up with her, I’ll be with you?” My heart seized up. Please, Wyatt, answer. Tell her you only love me. Reject her, now! A shaky, hesitant sound came from him. “Would you, really?” His voice was laced with an undeniable tension and a subtle, desperate hope. My entire world crashed down. The recording cut off. Savannah’s voice, sharp and triumphant, returned. “Get it now? Aria, being pretty is everything.” I hung up the phone. Hugging my knees to my chest, I finally admitted it: I was terrified. The fever-induced haze made thinking almost impossible, yet the image from high school flashed clearly in my mind: Wyatt climbing through that window, his warm hand enveloping mine. The white-shirted boy, full of righteous conviction. His palm was hot, sending a surge of strength into my own cold grip. “Aria, beauty isn’t the only way to judge a person. You are you.” That sentence had changed everything for me. I had hated myself then. My beauty had brought trouble to my family; my disguised mediocrity had made me a target for bullies. I had questioned my very existence. Wyatt’s words had forced me to re-examine myself, to focus on my character, my soul, rather than my surface. But I had forgotten that people change. Regardless of his feelings, I needed to hear the truth from him, face-to-face. I took some medication and slept for the rest of the day. The next morning, I saw a string of missed calls on my phone. Not one of them was from Wyatt. Before, if I went an hour without texting him, he’d race over, frantic that something had happened to me. I laughed a dry, self-mocking laugh. The answer was obvious. I composed myself and called the person who had called the most: my Program Advisor. She picked up immediately. “Aria, you finally answered. I heard you were sick, so you don’t need to worry about the Ivy League professor reception in three days. We’ve found a replacement.” 3 I froze, then quickly said, “Professor, I’m completely better, I can still go!” A little over a month ago, when the university learned that an Ivy League consortium would be visiting, they selected a small group of top students for the delegation. My fluency in French and German, and my polished etiquette, had earned me a spot. The credits from this event were crucial for my application to a prestigious graduate program overseas. For the past month, I had spent at least four hours every day preparing my presentations. My advisor had praised my dedication just last week. How could they replace me so easily? I rushed to the school to speak with her, insisting I was fully recovered and the assignment would not be affected. She sighed, giving me the honest truth. “Aria, I know how hard you worked. But Wyatt’s family just cut the school a check for a new Research Wing. Wyatt specifically requested Savannah take your place, and we simply couldn’t refuse…” “You what?” I heard my own voice, rough and abrasive. My advisor suddenly remembered who I was dating, and a look of regret crossed her face. “I won’t get involved in your personal matters. If you have questions, you should ask him yourself.” I found Wyatt in the library lounge, coaching Savannah on her conversation skills. Savannah was struggling; her English was poor, and her conversational skills were choppy. I had heard that Savannah desperately needed the academic credits, or she might have to postpone graduation. Wyatt had gone to incredible lengths for her. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps, pausing when our eyes met. “Aria, what are you doing here?” “Wyatt, did you steal my place on the reception team?” A flash of guilt crossed his face, quickly replaced by a sense of calm righteousness. “Aria, Savannah will be held back if she doesn’t get these credits. You’re already set for graduation, you don’t need this. It’s no loss to you to let her have the opportunity.” “But my graduate school application might fail! Do you have any idea how much effort I put into this?” “Then apply next year. I’ll stay with you, okay?” Perhaps because I had never spoken to him with such raw emotion, Wyatt seemed provoked. “Besides, the delegation team is full of handsome men and beautiful women. Wouldn’t you feel out of place standing there with them? I’m doing this to protect you, Aria, so you don’t get mocked again.” I couldn’t believe those words came from his mouth. He was the one who had held me, comforting me repeatedly, telling me to ignore the judgment of others. Now, he was the one stating his true feelings so plainly. The insults others had thrown at my appearance never hurt me. But one sentence from Wyatt broke me completely. The earnest, compassionate boy I had loved was truly gone. My eyes burned, and my body shook with indignation. Perhaps seeing me like this for the first time scared Wyatt a little. He instinctively lifted a hand to wipe away my tears. At that moment, Savannah let out a small sob. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have taken your place. I only asked if there was a chance after you mentioned you were sick.” “It’s just a year’s delay, I can try again next year. Wyatt, give her the position back.” As Savannah spoke, tears streamed down her face like precious pearls. She was, undeniably, beautiful even when crying. Compared to my own hysterical state, Wyatt’s focus instantly shifted. Looking at my red, swollen eyes and the dense layer of freckles on my cheeks, a flicker of disgust crossed his face. “Aria, when did you become so selfish and cold-blooded?” “Savannah’s family is struggling. An extra year of tuition and living expenses is a huge burden on them. Are you really only thinking of yourself?” “I got involved with you because I thought you were kind. But look at you now. There’s nothing left to love.” My fingers curled into tight knots. My voice was a desperate, exhausted whisper. “Then… we’re done. Break up.” 4 Savannah’s shriek rang out simultaneously with my words. Wyatt didn’t even look at me. He raced to Savannah’s side, swatting at a small insect that had landed on her dress. Savannah shrank into his embrace, flashing a quick, confident smirk in my direction. It was the look that confirmed what she had said on the phone: she could take Wyatt whenever she wanted. It no longer mattered whether Wyatt had heard my declaration. A man whose loyalty could be usurped by a pretty face was a man I no longer wanted. After calming Savannah, Wyatt turned around and noticed I was gone. He frowned, then a look of sudden panic flashed in his eyes. He thought he’d heard me say the word ‘breakup.’ He shook his head. No, he must have misheard. I had already resigned myself to losing the graduate school credit when my program advisor called me later that night. One of the selected students had been rushed to the ER with acute gastroenteritis. I was asked to step in at the last minute. I agreed. Early the next morning, I dressed meticulously and waited by the campus entrance. The other student ambassadors arrived, one by one. Savannah’s eyes widened when she saw me. I ignored her, quietly rehearsing the explanation I had painstakingly prepared. A crowd of students who had come to watch the VIPs gathered nearby. Someone yelled out. “Why is there a dirt smudge mixed in with the handsome ambassadors?” “Seriously, one bad apple spoils the whole bunch!” “Didn’t they pick the best students? That usually includes their appearance, right?” “Where does she get the nerve to stand there?” The loudest insults came from Savannah’s fan club, but as the discussion grew, others joined in, their eyes full of amused scorn. I kept my gaze forward, ignoring their judgment. I turned my head and met Wyatt’s eyes. He froze, then quickly looked away, as if afraid someone might discover our relationship. A sudden, wicked impulse sparked within me. I waved at him. “Wyatt! Don’t I look pretty?” Wyatt stared at me, dumbfounded. The surrounding students all looked at him. “Hey, man, you know her?” “Is that your girlfriend?” “No!” Wyatt denied it loudly. The small, deliberate smile I had forced onto my face faltered. My heart felt as if a massive, icy hand had squeezed it tight. The pain was suffocating. Suddenly, someone shoved me hard. My heel caught, and I tumbled to the ground. Something warm and wet splashed over me. Savannah cried out an apology, but it wasn’t for me. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” she said to the boy next to her. I looked up. She was apologizing to a male student. “It was so sweet of you to make me that hot oatmeal, and I dropped it!” The boy’s face was beet red. “No, no problem! I can make you another batch!” “Savannah, you did that on purpose!” I scrambled to my feet and lunged forward, aiming a slap at her face. Wyatt rushed in and grabbed my arm, yanking me back. He looked furious. “What are you doing! She only accidentally spilled something on you, and you want to hit her?” “She’s the campus queen! She represents our school’s image!” “And what about me? Am I not a student here? Does her pretty face excuse everything?” “Wyatt, you’re the one who told me that looks don’t matter!” My eyes were swimming in disappointment. I wrenched my arm free and turned to walk away. Wyatt was left standing there, confused. Everyone assumed I had left, too ashamed to stay, soaked in sticky oatmeal, my clothes and makeup ruined. Some said I had finally realized how out of place I was. As the arrival of the guests grew imminent and I still hadn’t returned, the advisor grew frantic. “We’re one short! Is Aria coming back?” “Professor, she deliberately walked out, you should dock her credits!” “This is a key day for the school, she needs a disciplinary record!” “I say she should be expelled! She’s embarrassing the school!” At that moment, a motorcade of dark sedans pulled up, and everyone turned excitedly to the entrance. The advisor, panicking, was about to step in herself when a voice came from behind. “Professor, I’m ready now.” Hearing my voice, the advisor let out a huge sigh of relief and turned to me. “Aria, perfect timing, quick—” She stopped mid-sentence. Her breath caught in her throat. “You… who are you?” Along with the advisor’s stunned question, the crowd also turned. Every single person who saw my face froze, slack-jawed. Savannah’s face went instantly white. I smiled faintly. “Professor, it’s Aria.” A hand clamped down hard on my arm. Wyatt stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re Aria?!”

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I was the “White Moonlight”—the unforgettable first love—of a wealthy dynasty. Four years after my death, I was resurrected. But by then, my replacement had already climbed to the top. Wearing a face identical to mine, she smirked at me with triumphant arrogance. “Everything you had is mine now. You’re too late.” What she didn’t know is the true power of a White Moonlight: The moment I appear, everyone abandons their principles and runs back to me. Chapter 1 “Mom, I’m home.” I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Sterling estate with ease, smiling brightly at the woman sitting on the sofa. Just like every time I used to come home from school. Ordinary. Routine. Crash. The teacup in her hand smashed onto the floor, the sound muffled by the thick Persian rug. Her response was a scream that sounded like it tore her throat apart. “Serena! My Serena is back!” I am Serena Sterling, the eldest daughter of the Sterling empire. I died of heart failure. But on the brink of death, I was bound by a “Quick Transmigration System.” That’s when I learned the truth: I was just the early-dying “White Moonlight” in a novel about a substitute lover. The real protagonist was a body double who looked 90% like me. Because of her face, she would transcend her social class, catch the eye of the elite, and become the darling of the Sterling family. My parents would adopt her. My childhood sweetheart would fall in love with her. My little brother would obey her every command. She would gain everyone’s love. But all of this was based on one premise: I had to be dead. So when the System asked if I wanted to complete missions to earn a resurrection in my original world, I agreed without hesitation. Why should my life be a stepping stone for someone else? Why should my tragic death be the starting point of her happiness? So, I came back. “Mom, it’s me. I’m back.” My mother’s embrace was as warm as I remembered, but tight to the point of suffocation, as if she feared I would vanish if she let go. I sighed and gently patted her thin back, comforting her. The System had altered memories. Instead of dying in the hospital four years ago, the world now believed I went missing in a shipwreck. She thought she had been searching for me, day after day, year after year. And now, the lost was found. But this tearful reunion didn’t last long. A commotion at the door interrupted us. Chapter 2 “Mom! Look what we bought for you!” A voice, sugary sweet and unfamiliar, rang out before the person even appeared. A girl ran in first, carrying a box of pastries. A moment later, a voice I knew better than my own followed, filled with indulgence. “Slow down, don’t run.” Just one sentence, and I knew who it was. My childhood sweetheart, Julian Thorne. “Mom? Do we have guests? Why are you crying?” That was my little brother, Leo Sterling. He walked in as he spoke, but my back was turned to him, so he didn’t recognize me. He only saw our mother hugging a stranger and crying. He paused, confused. I felt my mother’s grip tighten. Her eyes were red, her lips trembling, trying to speak but choked by tears. “Mom, stop crying. What’s wrong? Who is this?” “Ouch, Julian, why did you pinch me? That hurts!” The sweet voice spoke again, this time with a whining, coquettish tone. Julian seemed to sense something. His burning gaze bored into my back. He ignored the girl’s complaint. His Adam’s apple bobbed as if trying to force out a name that had been familiar yet foreign for so long. “Why are you all acting so weird? The security guard at the gate said I already came home once today. So strange.” The girl muttered, looking from my crying mother to my silent brother, and finally to Julian, whose emotions were clearly volatile. Finally, her gaze landed on me. A bad premonition rose in her heart. As if to confirm her fears, I pulled away from my mother’s arms, turned around, and looked at them. “Leo. Julian. Long time no see.” Chapter 3 “Serena…” Julian’s voice trembled almost imperceptibly. Leo, however, had no filter. “Serena Sterling! You dare come back?! Where the hell have you been all these years? Do you know I really thought you were dead! How dare you! How dare you…” At eighteen, he wasn’t exactly composed. He spoke through gritted teeth, but his eyes were terrifyingly red, and tears fell one after another uncontrollably. I patted his shoulder guiltily. “Leo, you’ve grown up.” Back then, he was just a fourteen-year-old brat. In the blink of an eye, he was a man. He finally broke down, burying his head on my shoulder, sobbing softly. “Sis, I missed you so much.” While we were caught up in the joy and sorrow of reunion, the pastry box crashed to the floor. Only then did everyone notice the girl standing at the door, who hadn’t made a sound. I looked at her. That face, so highly similar to mine, had lost all color. She looked terribly pathetic. We sat together for a dinner filled with hidden currents. The table was full of my favorite dishes. Mom kept piling food onto my plate. Leo peeled shrimp for me without being asked. When Julian subconsciously put a piece of sweet and sour ribs—my favorite—into Chloe’s bowl, everyone froze. “Thank you,” Chloe said calmly, clenching her palm. It was the first time she had spoken since realizing who I was. “Mmh,” Julian paused, giving a faint response. I ignored the undercurrents at the table and ate calmly. “Your room hasn’t changed. I cleaned it myself every day. Go rest after eating. The doctor will come check on you later. Your dad comes back tomorrow.” Mom rambled on with her worries, and I agreed to everything. They didn’t say much about Chloe, but I wasn’t panicked. That’s the confidence of being loved. However, I didn’t expect that even if I didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble would come knocking. Late at night, there was a knock on my door. Chapter 4 I opened the door to see Chloe’s familiar face. She stood there holding a glass of milk. I raised an eyebrow at her, surprised. I thought she was here to smooth things over. But unexpectedly, she dropped the silence she held at dinner and wore a sneer on her face. “You died once, why did you have to come back? Do you think you can compete with me?” “I’ve spent four years conquering them. Except for this room, everything you owned is mine now. You’re too late, understand?” Conquering? That’s a familiar term. Before I could react, she splashed the milk onto her own face, screamed, and threw herself to the ground. The glass shattered with a crisp sound. She wept like a pear blossom bathed in rain. “Sister, I’m sorry! I just wanted to be nice, I didn’t mean any harm!” How long has it been since I experienced such a low-level frame-up? For a moment, I actually found it funny. I looked coldly at the girl on the floor. She was wearing thin clothes, milk dripping from her face and hair, eyes red, looking at me with fear and horror. In short, pitiful enough to break anyone’s heart. Actually, I wasn’t keen on fighting with Chloe. Whatever the reason, she was the one who comforted my family these past years. I didn’t have much malice toward her. I just wanted her to back off on her own. But her hostility toward me was clearly significant. Noise at night always attracts attention, especially on a day like this when no one in the house could sleep. So when Chloe screamed, several other doors opened one after another.

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Right before finals week, my childhood sweetheart paid someone to smash the scholarship student’s hearing aid. I immediately custom-ordered a new one and gave it to him. When my childhood friend found out, he cornered me in the stairwell, his voice dripping with venom. “Why help that trash? Wouldn’t it be better to watch him rot in the mud?” He leaned in to kiss me, trying to manipulate me with the face I used to love. I looked him in the eye and lied. “Fine. Let’s ruin him.” From that day on, I dragged the poor scholar into my world, distracting him day and night. When college acceptance letters arrived, my childhood friend got into his dream Ivy League school. Everyone thought he would finally confess his love to me. Instead, he pointed at my mediocre state school acceptance and sneered, “Love can’t be forced, Blaire. Besides, we aren’t on the same level anymore.” I wasn’t sad. Because that same day, the scholar I had supposedly “corrupted” came to find me. He held an acceptance letter from MIT in one hand, and he pulled me close with the other, kissing me with a devotion that bordered on worship. “Stay with me, okay?” “My future, and my life… they all belong to you.” 1 When Carter walked into the classroom to find me, a group of students was gathered around Serena, the school’s golden girl. “Only the Valedictorian is good enough for our Serena. Carter crushed the mock exams; he’s definitely taking the top spot.” “I knew Carter would lock in for Serena. Too bad about Wes, though. Hearing his hearing aid ‘accidentally’ broke right before the English listening portion? Tragic.” “Serena, I’m so jealous. Both of them are obsessed with you. Who are you gonna pick?” “Obviously Carter. He’s rich, he’s connected… he and Serena are the power couple.” Serena looked up from her perfectly organized notes. She tried to hide her smile, feigning modesty. “Stop it, guys. We’re all just friends.” “Just friends? That Patek Philippe watch on your wrist says otherwise. Didn’t Carter buy that for you?” “This old thing? He told me it was just a trinket. If I knew it was expensive, I wouldn’t have taken it!” “See? Carter spoils you. Look at Blaire over there. She buys Carter everything, basically pays him to hang out with her, and now she’s buying hearing aids for the charity case, Wes. And for what? Carter still won’t look at her.” I sat at my desk, unbothered. Out in the hallway, Carter grabbed my arm. “Blaire, what the hell? You know how much I hate Wes. Why did you help him?” He was here to interrogate me. I knew exactly why he hated Wes. Since Wes transferred here on a full academic scholarship, Carter hadn’t touched the number one spot in the class rankings. And conveniently, Serena—the girl Carter was obsessed with—had publicly stated she’d only date the Valedictorian. Carter glanced back into the classroom, his eyes darkening as he landed on a justification. “Are you doing this because of Serena? Blaire, you know she’s just a fling. I’m just having fun.” We both came from old money. We had an unspoken engagement. In our circle, people like Serena—upper middle class but not elite—were temporary distractions. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “Blaire, we’ve known each other forever. Don’t let an outsider ruin us.” I looked at him calmly. “The hearing aid was custom-made. I already gave it to him. I can’t ask for it back.” “Unless,” I stepped closer, “you want me to smash the Rolex I bought you, too?” 2 Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Wes was standing by the classroom door. He had been waiting. He was wearing the new hearing aid I gave him. It was silver, sleek, and glittered under the fluorescent lights. On him, it didn’t look like a disability. It looked like jewelry. “It looks good,” I said. I smiled and walked toward him. “Wes, were you looking for me?” “Yeah.” Wes reached up, took the device off, and held it out to me. His voice was cold, flat. “Take it back.” My fingertips brushed his palm. It was warm. Looking at his face—thin, handsome, but still boyish—my vision blurred. “Wes,” I whispered. “I’m so happy to see you again.” In my past life, if he hadn’t sought revenge for me, his life wouldn’t have ended at twenty-eight. Even in death, he had been calm. He had wiped the tears from my face in that cold, dark room. “Blaire, don’t feel guilty. I didn’t want to live anyway. I just couldn’t leave you behind. Promise me you’ll live well, okay?” He loved me simply because, years ago, I had held an umbrella over him in the rain. Even when our marriage was purely transactional, born of my desperation and his kindness, he treated me like his most precious treasure. Twenty-eight-year-old Wes had reached the end of his road. Eighteen-year-old Wes still had a chance to change everything. Husband, I thought. This time, let me protect you. 3 Wes was stubborn. He insisted on returning it. I quickly composed myself, acting as if nothing unusual had happened. I took the device and gently placed it back over his ear. “I gave it to you. It’s yours. Does it fit okay?” Subconsciously, my fingers lingered on his earlobe. In our past life, I couldn’t sleep unless I was touching his ear. It was soft. Grounding. Wes flinched, clearly shocked by the intimacy. A faint blush crept up his neck. He took a step back. “Thank you.” Carter’s posse, noticing their leader’s foul mood, immediately started jeering. “Wes, look in a mirror. You think you’re worthy of Blaire? You aren’t fit to tie her shoes.” “If Carter and Blaire weren’t fighting, do you think you’d get a scrap like that? Know your place, charity case.” “Ugh, he smells like hospital disinfectant. Bad luck.” Wes’s mother was chronically ill. He spent every moment outside of school at the hospital. At the mention of the hospital, Wes’s hands clenched into fists. His eyes turned icy. “I’ll find a way to pay you back for the device. I don’t want to be involved in anything else.” He turned and walked away fast. I wanted to chase him, but Carter grabbed my wrist. “Blaire, we need to talk.” He dragged me to the emergency stairwell. As soon as he let go, he leaned down to kiss me. He was good at this. Whenever he upset me, he used physical affection as a weapon. He knew I was weak for his face. When I was fifteen, I fell for that face. Back then, he ignored me. I was the chubby rich girl, invisible next to the slender, talented girls in our prep school. Until the day the Bentley picked me up, and the driver called me “Miss Blaire.” That’s when Carter sat next to me. “What’s your name?” From then on, we were inseparable. I thought it was love. In my past life, I engaged myself to him, ignoring the fact that he only loved my trust fund. But when my family went bankrupt—sabotaged by his family—he showed his true colors. “Every day with you was disgusting, Blaire. Look at yourself. Who could love you?” He set me up, forced me to break the engagement, and publicly dated Serena. I became the laughingstock of high society, eventually marrying Wes, who had also been ruined by Carter’s schemes. “Blaire, why are you looking at me like that?” Carter held my face, his voice trembling. “Do you hate me because of him?” His eyes filled with a familiar, terrifying rage. “I’ll have him expelled tomorrow. I’ll ruin him.” Slap. I hit him. Hard. It felt incredibly satisfying to bite the hand that starved me. “Carter, are you insane?” He didn’t seem to feel the pain. Instead, he grabbed my hand, rubbing it against his cheek. “Blaire, you know how important being Valedictorian is to me. If I don’t get into the Ivy of my choice, your dad won’t let us marry. Wes trusts you now. For our future… help me knock him into the mud, okay? He belongs in the dirt.” Carter was possessive. Over my money, over Serena, over his status. Looking at the malice in his eyes, I formulated a plan. “Okay,” I said softly. “Let’s do it.” 4 News of my gift to Wes spread through the school like wildfire. For a week, everyone speculated about our relationship. “Wes hit the jackpot. Being handsome really pays the bills.” “If the Princess took a liking to him, he doesn’t even need to take the SATs. He can just be a trophy husband.” “Hey Wes, have you kissed her yet? Is the bedding in a mansion softer? Bet it feels great.” “Blaire isn’t exactly a supermodel, but for that kind of money, I’d close my eyes and kiss her too.” There are no secrets in prep school. These nasty comments found their way to me. I thought Wes would come to me—to demand an explanation, to clear his name. He didn’t. After school, I waited by his classroom. It was empty, except for him sweeping the floor. It wasn’t his turn for duty. “They’re bullying you again?” Wes didn’t answer. He kept sweeping. I sat on a desk. “I heard what they’re saying. Why don’t you deny it? Or tell me. I can make them stop.” He set down the broom and looked at me. His uniform was old, washed too many times, but he smelled clean, like soap. “Would denying it help?” “If it doesn’t help, there’s no point in wasting breath.” He walked past me to grab a rag. As he reached up to erase the chalkboard, his shirt lifted, revealing a sliver of toned abs. I was surprised. He was so thin, I didn’t expect muscle. “Wes, you know Carter is targeting you. But if you stick with me, no one will touch you.” I walked up to him. “Let me help you. Please?” Suddenly, he turned. We were inches apart. I could feel his warm breath on my face. My heart skipped a beat. I stumbled backward off the dais. Wes caught my arm, steadying me. Once I was safe, he let go immediately. His voice was cold. “I told you. I’m not interested in whatever game you and Carter are playing.” Eighteen-year-old Wes. Still so stubborn. But if he were easy to sway, he wouldn’t be the man I loved. “It’s not for Carter,” I said, stepping closer so he couldn’t miss the sincerity in my eyes. “It’s for you.” He held my gaze for half a second, then looked away, flustered. “Walk carefully next time.” 5 A week later, we met again. This time, at the hospital. I skipped last period and found the ward where his mother was staying. I paid off her outstanding bills, moved her to a private VIP room, and hired the best caretakers. When Wes arrived, I was peeling an orange for his mom, listening to her stories about his childhood. “Your classmate is an angel, Wes,” she said, holding my hand. “She’s been keeping me company. She says the teachers love you.” I winked at Wes. “Wes, I just saved you about four hours of caretaking work today. Shouldn’t you repay me for that time?” Wes, who was slicing an apple, paused. “Okay.” His voice was so quiet I almost missed it. “Huh?” He looked at me, his gaze intense. “You’re right. That time belongs to you now.” I smirked, leaning toward his ear. “In that case, go pack a bag. Starting tomorrow, you’re moving into my house.” “My parents are in Europe. It’s just me and the housekeeper. It gets lonely. Come keep me company.”

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For three years, my sister Isabella’s boyfriend Aiden’s only gift was a $52 transfer. Then he invited her to a hotel. Furious, Isabella decided to dump him. I could’ve celebrated, but I took a cab and knocked on his door. “It’s me, baby, your girl!” In my past life, Isabella thought Aiden was poor and mistreated him. When she met a rich classmate, she two-timed him. I tried to warn her. I’d seen Aiden get out of a limited-edition Porsche. She ignored me, swore she wouldn’t break up. That night, she drugged me and left me for frat boys. The next day, my photos were everywhere. My parents threw me out; the university expelled me. Lost, I walked to a lake. Isabella pushed me in. As I fought in the water, she sneered, “You like charity cases? Let me make you one.” “I’m marrying rich. I don’t need a goody-two-shoes sister holding me back!” I died full of rage. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Aiden got drunk. 1 In our dorm room, Isabella was pampering herself with some ridiculously expensive two-hundred-dollar face mask Carter had bought her. “I’m telling you, this stuff is magic,” she cooed, admiring her reflection. “My skin is already a shade brighter. No wonder everyone wants to date a rich guy.” Our other roommates chimed in, sucking up to her. “It’s not just the mask, Bella. You’re just naturally gorgeous. You make everything look good.” “After Carter sees you tonight, he’ll be obsessed. Next, you’ll be asking for a Birkin bag, and he won’t even blink!” They all knew Isabella had been with Aiden for three years, but they actively pushed her toward Carter. A happy Isabella meant a shower of luxury gifts for them, too. I listened in cold silence, saying nothing. I just watched the clock. A second later, right on cue, Isabella’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the message and slammed her phone down on the desk with a crack. A roommate clutched her chest in mock horror. “Whoa, what’s wrong? That’s the new iPhone! It’s over a grand!” Isabella scoffed. “It’s just a stupid phone. Carter can buy me a new one.” She shoved the screen in their faces. “Look at this! That broke loser Aiden actually had the nerve to text me, asking me to go to a hotel with him!” “He’s on student loans to pay his tuition! Where does he get the audacity?” “Three years we’ve been together, and the most I’ve ever gotten from him is fifty-two bucks! And I have to waste my time texting him back all day, giving him ‘emotional support.’ Even a hooker gets paid more than this!” The roommate snickered. “Seriously! When you add up the cost of your makeup, your outfits, and all the time you waste on him, you’re basically paying to be his girlfriend.” “Don’t compare yourself to a hooker. At least they don’t lose money on the deal.” “So, Bella, are you going?” In my past life, that question was my cue. I had rushed in, telling her that Aiden wasn’t who he seemed, that I’d seen him with a Porsche. Isabella had lost it. She accused me of wanting her to be miserable, of wanting her to be stuck with a charity case. Everyone at school knew Aiden was a broke pretty-boy with nothing to his name. If he had a Porsche, it was because some rich old cougar was keeping him. Before I could argue, she fired off the breakup text and left to meet Carter. Aiden, after being dumped, found out the truth and unleashed his fury on Carter’s family. In a matter of weeks, their company was in ruins. Isabella, oblivious, had even taken out millions in online loans in her own name to help Carter. And me? I died in a lake, my body never even recovered. This time, I wasn’t getting involved. But then, Isabella’s eyes landed on me. “Lily? Why are you so quiet?” “Usually, you’re the first one to complain about me getting close to Carter.” I quickly put my phone down and forced a smile. “What? No way.” “I was just worried Aiden would find out. Dating a broke guy is dangerous. He has nothing to lose.” “But I can’t believe Aiden, seriously. After all this time, he expects you to sleep with him for free? Even if you wanted to go, as your sister, I wouldn’t let you!” She snorted, turning back to the mirror to apply her makeup. “Glad you finally see it my way.” “Carter booked a room tonight, too. He said it’s a surprise for our hundred-day anniversary.” “Don’t worry. Once I marry into his family, I’ll introduce you to some rich guys.” I laughed silently to myself. Right, introduce me to be some rich man’s mistress, just like you. How thoughtful. A roommate picked up Isabella’s cracked phone and handed it to her. Without even looking, Isabella tapped the screen and sent a voice message. “Aiden, let’s break up. I’ve thought about it, and we’re just not right for each other.” After sending it, she tossed the phone aside, the screen still glowing. I memorized the hotel room number she’d shown us earlier and quietly booked a car on my phone. Isabella, if you’re going to throw away a golden ticket, don’t blame me for picking it up. I had just changed into a simple but clean outfit and was about to head out when a hand grabbed my wrist. Isabella leaned in, her face cold. “Lily, where do you think you’re going? You’re not acting like yourself today.” 2 A jolt of panic shot through me, but I kept my face neutral. “Where else? The cafeteria. I don’t have a boyfriend to buy me dinner, and it’s Friday night. The line is going to be insane…” She scanned me from head to toe, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’d better not be getting any funny ideas. If you dare run to Aiden and tattle, you’ll regret it.” With that, she turned away to pick out her outfit for the date, already cooing into her phone to Carter. “Really? The one that’s eighty-eight hundred a night? Baby, you’re too good to me! We’re not even officially together yet, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you…” “It’s just eight grand, not even what I spend on dinner. Anything for my future girlfriend.” “So, since I’m putting in all this effort, maybe we can… move things forward a little tonight…” Isabella’s face flushed. “Stop it! What are you saying? My roommates are here.” I didn’t wait to hear more. I slipped out the door. The car was already waiting. I gave the driver the hotel address. As I pressed the doorbell, my heart hammered against my ribs. I’d barely spoken to Aiden before. Our only interactions were me passing on Isabella’s excuses. It was always “My sister is busy with class” or “She has to study at the library.” In reality, she was out shopping or at a club with Carter, and I was her cover. What if Aiden got the breakup text and took his anger out on me? I wouldn’t know what to say. Thankfully, the door opened quickly. Aiden didn’t look angry, just drunk. His face was flushed, his eyes hazy. “Lily? Are you here to laugh at me?” I glanced past him into the room. On the way over, I’d looked up the hotel. It was eighty bucks a night, a world away from the eight-thousand-dollar suite Isabella was going to. I’d never understand why rich guys pretended to be poor, but I had to play my part. “No, you’ve got it all wrong.” “I came to apologize on my sister’s behalf.” Sensing I wasn’t a threat, Aiden stepped aside to let me in. The moment I sat down, he grabbed another bottle of beer. An empty takeout container sat on the table, clearly ordered after he got the text. “She already broke up with me. What’s the point of an apology?” “I know why she did it. She thinks I’m poor.” “I might not have money, but I’m not stupid. It’s been three years. You think I didn’t notice?” “I was trying my best to give her a good life. I even spent my entire semester’s living expenses on a diamond ring. I was going to give it to her tonight, but…” He let out a bitter laugh and chugged the rest of the beer. The alcohol was hitting him hard, and his words started to slur. “Isabella…” “You have no idea… what I’ve given up for you…” The dim light cast sharp shadows across his handsome face. Even without his family’s money, a man who looked like him would never be ordinary. It was a shame Isabella couldn’t see that. I put on a sympathetic face and handed him a glass of water. “Aiden, there’s actually another reason I came here tonight…” I closed my eyes, as if summoning all my courage. “I’m in love with you!” “I’ve loved you for a long, long time!” “I know my sister just broke up with you, and… this is my chance. I’ve waited three years for this. I don’t want to miss it.” The room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. After a long moment, I heard his cold, mocking laugh. “Love me for what?” “Don’t tell me you’re into charity cases. Do you really expect me to believe that?” I moved closer, about to explain, but he shoved me away, his expression turning to ice. “Did Isabella put you up to this? Is this another one of her games?” “She breaks up with me after playing me for three years, and now she sends her sister to confess her love? What’s the plan? You play me for three years, then dump me too? Just so she can be sure I’ll never forget her? She’d love that, wouldn’t she?” “Get out. Before I really lose my temper.” 3 He practically roared the last words. I didn’t leave. I just stood up and gently wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m not like Isabella.” “You chased her for three years. I’ll chase you for three years—” Before I could finish, he grabbed my wrist and threw me onto the bed. “Is that so? You love me? Fine. I’m going to sleep with you, right now. And then I’m not going to be with you. Are you okay with that?” I could see the cruel challenge in his eyes. Without a second thought, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him. “I’m okay with it.” “As long as I can be with you, I’ll do anything.” Aiden’s body went rigid for a moment. Then, maybe it was the alcohol, he finally relaxed into me. When I opened my eyes again, it was morning. Aiden was asleep beside me, completely naked. I slipped out of bed, got dressed, and left, playing the part of the silent benefactor to the very end. I was in such a hurry that I didn’t notice his eyes flutter open just as I closed the door. I had just gotten to the lobby when I ran straight into Isabella and Carter, who were leaving the hotel across the street. The moment she saw me, Isabella pointed a finger and shrieked, “Lily! What are you doing with Aiden?” Her eyes darted to the cheap hotel behind me, and her face turned crimson with rage. “No wonder you didn’t try to stop me from breaking up with him! You wanted him for yourself all along! Have you no shame? Aiden was my boyfriend!” “Are you that desperate? You’d even steal from your own sister? What kind of monster are you?” I turned and was surprised to see Aiden standing right behind me. “It seems you really are different from Isabella,” he said quietly. “I misjudged you last night.” I didn’t have time to respond. All I could feel was white-hot anger at Isabella’s hypocrisy. Before I could speak, she beat me to the punch, clinging to Carter’s arm and bursting into tears. “See? I told you he cheated on me! You didn’t believe me, but now you see it with your own eyes!” “Lily Murphy, you’ll get what’s coming to you for wrecking people’s relationships! Just you wait!” With that, she ran off, sobbing. Carter shot us a venomous look. “Aiden, your taste in women is pathetic. But thanks for dumping Isabella. It gave me my chance.” He quickly ran after her. Aiden was looking down at his phone, texting someone. I did my best to look like a fragile, innocent victim. “Don’t worry about it,” I said softly. “She wasn’t mad at you, she was mad at me.” “I don’t regret what happened last night. But if you don’t want to see me again, I’ll just head back to school.” I didn’t give him a chance to stop me. I hailed a cab and left. In the rearview mirror, I saw him watching my car drive away, a thoughtful expression on his face. People always want what they can’t have. That seed of guilt was all I needed to shift his affection from Isabella to me. I had just stepped onto campus when my phone rang. It was my mother. Before I could even say hello, she started screaming. “Lily, where the hell have you been? You get your ass home right now!” “Your sister told me you stole her boyfriend! That you two spent the night in a hotel?” “We raised you for twenty years, and this is how you repay us? Have you no shame? What kind of cheap tramp did I raise? Do you have any idea how much your sister was crying on the phone?” “You just turned eighteen! You’ve never even been in a real relationship, and you’re already jumping into bed with men! If people find out, how are your father and I supposed to show our faces in public?” In the background, I heard my father smash something. The sound of shattering glass was sharp and ugly. “Stop wasting your breath on her! Tell her to get her ass home now! If she doesn’t know how to act like a decent human being, she can drop out of school! All she’s good for is being some man’s mistress anyway!” My father snatched the phone. “Lily, I don’t care where you are. You have ten minutes to get here. You’re grounded for a month. You’re not leaving this house without my permission!” My eyes burned. I dug my nails into my palm so hard I couldn’t feel the pain. Just because Isabella was prettier, because she was better at sweet-talking them. My whole life, they had always favored her. At school, when we had parent-teacher conferences, they could have each gone to one of our classrooms. But all it took was a little pouting from Isabella, and they both ended up at her desk, leaving mine empty. The kids in my class used to taunt me, calling me an orphan, a bastard with no parents. I fought them. When the teacher called my parents, they came, listened to the story, and then slapped me across the face. “Ugly people just love making trouble. You’re in the same class as your sister. How come nobody bothers her? Did you start it?” “What are you standing there for? Apologize to your classmate!” There were so many stories like that, so many that they swarmed my mind whenever I closed my eyes. In my last life, I lived in Isabella’s shadow. After I died, my parents scraped together every penny they had to pay off her million-dollar loans. Not one of them ever thought of me. All it took was one sentence from Isabella: “Lily probably ran away because she found out about my debt and was afraid I’d drag her down.” And my parents’ grief turned to endless resentment. “If we had known she’d turn out like this, we should have just given her away at birth! It would have been better than raising an ungrateful snake!” Tears streamed down my face. For the first time, I found the courage to scream back into the phone. “You think I have no shame? At least I’m not a two-timing cheater!” “You believe every word Isabella says! If you trust her so much, then why do you even need me as a daughter?” My father lost control. “How dare you! How dare you talk back to your parents! Is this how I raised you?” “You can forget about your allowance for the rest of the year! Go beg for money from your men! If you love selling your body so much, go ahead! Just don’t come crying to us when you get some disease!” He hung up. I stood at the school gate. The wind felt like it was cutting straight to my bones, and I shivered. I never knew a parent could say such venomous things to their own child. I never knew that not all parents in the world love their children. I managed to drag myself to my dorm. As I stepped onto the front stairs, a voice snarled from above.

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I saw a girl from the arts class being assaulted by a guy in a weird costume. I stepped in, saved her, and called the cops. The next day, she claimed I was the assaulter. She even said I forced her to give a false statement the day before. Later, I was taken away by the police, losing my guaranteed admission to Yale. My father, who had a disabled leg, wrote a blood letter to prove my innocence and committed suicide in front of the girl’s house. Because of insufficient evidence, I was eventually released, but I lost my Yale admission and missed the college entrance exams. My life was effectively over. I lived in a daze for six months until I saw that same girl walking hand-in-hand with the real assaulter. Filled with rage, I rushed over to confront her, asking why she repaid kindness with enmity. The assaulter shoved me, and I was hit by a speeding car. When I woke up again, I was back on the night of the incident. 1 “Don’t touch me, or I’ll scream!” “Help! Help me!” “Someone, please save me?!” I should be dead. Why could I still hear those cries for help from six months ago? In the flowerbed not far away, a man in a bizarre costume was assaulting a pitiful woman. The scene wasn’t just familiar; it was identical. I stood dazed by the roadside. A sedan flashed its hazard lights and honked, snapping me out of my trance. I quickly moved to the other side. In my past life, I saw Layla Jones from the arts class being assaulted. My sense of justice exploded, and I rushed over, throwing my backpack at the guy’s head. Clutching his head with one hand and pulling up his pants with the other, the man cursed as he left, not forgetting to threaten me: “Lucas Reed from Class 1, right? I’ll remember you. Just you wait!” It turned out to be the school bully, Brody Carter. I didn’t take his threat seriously. I took off my shirt to cover Layla, comforted her traumatized soul, and encouraged her to call the police. When I got home, I told my dad about my heroic deed. Dad had his leg broken years ago for being a Good Samaritan, but he never regretted it. He patted my shoulder with pride and said, “That’s my son. Good job.” But the next day during class, Layla brought the police to arrest me. True to her acting major, she cried her heart out, looking utterly pitiful. “Yesterday, it was Lucas Reed who assaulted me. He threatened to kill my whole family if I dared to tell anyone.” She wiped her tears, looking at me with hatred. “The worst part is he played the hero, forcing me to lie and say he saved me. He even wanted my family to present him with a banner in front of the whole school.” I felt like I’d been hit with a club, completely stunned. It wasn’t until I was taken away in the police car that I reacted. “It wasn’t me! I chased that guy away and comforted you. How can you betray me like this?” Her eyes were red as she started crying again. “A girl’s purity is the most important thing. I wouldn’t joke about this.” Everyone thought she made sense. 2 I became the rapist everyone wanted to beat. Rumors spread like wildfire, especially since almost everyone sided with her, the “vulnerable victim.” Netizens cyberbullied me and my dad. They even claimed my dad’s past act of heroism was only because he knew the kid was from a rich family and wanted a reward. I lost my guaranteed admission to Yale and was expelled from school. Dad wrote a letter in his own blood and committed suicide in front of Layla’s house. Public opinion exploded, and the heat rose. The police reopened the investigation, and I was acquitted due to lack of evidence. But no university wanted me, and more importantly, I had lost the father I depended on. I lived in a daze for six months. At the entrance of an apartment complex, I saw Layla walking hand-in-hand with Brody, the real assaulter. Filled with rage, I rushed over to confront her. “I’m just a nobody. Can I fight against the heir of the Carter Corporation?” “If I didn’t do as he said, my whole family would die. I couldn’t resist, so I had to frame you.” I screamed, “Do you know you destroyed my entire life?” “Aren’t you alive and well? So what if you went to Yale? You’d just end up working for rich people anyway.” “But my dad is dead!” She showed no remorse. “Everyone dies eventually. Earlier death just means earlier reincarnation.” Enraged, I strangled her. Brody, who hadn’t spoken, grabbed my collar. “Pauper, don’t touch my girlfriend!” He shoved me hard. I stumbled into the path of a speeding car, hit the curb, and died instantly. Hearing the cries for help nearby now, I smiled. I wouldn’t be stupid this time. 3 I arrived at the night market. Dad was serving customers at his grilled cold noodle stand. I hurried over to help. Mom died giving birth to me, and Dad never remarried. After his leg was broken, no company wanted him, and he refused help from the person he saved. He set up this stall every night to support my education. Seeing Dad’s thin, busy figure, my heart ached. In my last life, I caused your death. Not this time. I will turn things around, go to the best university, get the best job, and let you enjoy a peaceful old age. But things didn’t go exactly as I hoped. The next day at the school gate, Layla grabbed me and slapped me hard. “Why didn’t you save me last night?” I took a deep breath and slapped her back. I’m a guy, and I hit hard. She was stunned, covering her face. “You… you dare hit me back?” “I’m not a doormat. Just because you hit me doesn’t mean I have to take it.” “Why didn’t you help me yesterday?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Class is starting soon. Please stop bothering me.” I looked cold and distant, hugging my books and walking inside. She rushed from behind, grabbed my books, threw them on the ground, and stomped on them. “Are you in cahoots with him? Were you keeping watch for him?” “Disgusting people like you who don’t help deserve to die just like him!” I pushed her away and bent down to pick up my books. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Because you didn’t help, my purity is ruined forever! Don’t you know you were wrong?” She vented all her frustration on me, charging like a mad bull to push me down and scratch my face. Naturally, I didn’t give her the chance. I used my hands and feet to push her away. Furious, she charged again. Passing students rushed over to separate us and called the Dean. 4 The Dean was tall, dark, and imposing. Students were terrified of him. Just standing there was enough to silence everyone. In my past life, everyone doubted me, but he was the only one who comforted my bewildered father. His sharp eyes swept over us. “What is this? The SATs are in a month. Are you trying to stop everyone from studying?” “Lucas has been guaranteed admission. What about you? You didn’t get a guarantee, and you only got an art qualification for a third-rate college. What are you making a fuss about?” Layla immediately got angry and acted aggrieved. “Dean, even though I’m an art student, I want to study hard too. You can’t cover for Lucas just because he’s going to Yale!” “Cover? I won’t cover for anyone. Come to my office and explain yourselves!” In the office, Layla embellished the story of last night. “So you mean, Lucas realized you were being assaulted but ignored it. You were resentful, so you blocked him at the school gate this morning, leading to an argument?” Layla nodded. I said, “First, I didn’t hear any cries for help. Second, even if I did and knew it was you, saving you is a kindness, not saving you is my right. Now you’re trying to morally kidnap me? Is there no justice?” Thinking of what she did in my past life, I added, “You didn’t catch the culprit, so now you’re turning around to say I’m the assaulter, right?” I wanted to block her path before she could take it. Layla’s face turned red, and she shouted, “You scumbag! How can you think of me like that? And you call yourself a top student going to Yale? You’re worse than a pig!” “No matter how angry you get, I don’t know about things I didn’t see, and I won’t admit to things I didn’t do.” Furious, she rushed over to scratch me… The Dean shouted coldly, “Enough! If you can’t clear this up, call the police! Idle hands do the devil’s work. Look at the time, act your age.” Perhaps the Dean just said it casually, but Layla’s face turned pale, her hands trembling. “If I call the police, my life is over.”

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I was born unique, with two hearts beating inside my chest. It was the only thing that ever made my parents smile at me. Because my older brother, Caleb, was born with a congenital heart defect. My parents brought me into this world for one reason only: to be a spare part, to ensure Caleb’s survival. Later, I met Sarah. We fell in love and got married. She pulled me out of the abyss, away from my desperate yearning for familial love. I thought she would be different from my parents. But when my brother’s condition worsened, she became obsessed with the idea that I should donate one of my hearts to him. What she didn’t know was that I only had one heart left. My other heart was already beating inside her chest. 1. “It’s just one heart, Lucas. How can you be so selfish?” “You were born for this, weren’t you? To let your brother live?” Sarah gripped my hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. “But I want to live too, Sarah. Without a heart, I’ll die.” Sarah’s face stiffened, then her expression hardened. “You have two hearts. Give one up, you’ll still have one left. You’ll live.” “But Caleb is different. Without your heart, he has no chance. He’ll die.” Ignoring my struggles, Sarah pushed me toward the prep room. Desperate, I tried to explain. “I only have one heart left, Sarah.” “Didn’t you look at the test results?” Sarah wouldn’t listen. “Who knows what you did to avoid donating? You probably bribed the technicians to fake the report.” She thought I had paid someone off to alter my medical records. “No, Sarah, listen to me. I had surgery when I was a kid. I already donated one heart.” “Enough, Lucas! Just save your brother! Why are you being so stubborn?” Sarah cut me off sharply. “I’m not lying! My heart is inside you!” She didn’t hear a word I said, marching straight toward Caleb’s prep room. 2. The other doctors in the prep room froze, staring at us. Then someone scoffed. “Trying to pull the romance card now? That’s disgusting.” “Your brother is fighting for his life, and you’re here whispering sweet nothings to your sister-in-law?” Only our families knew Sarah and I were married. Her colleagues didn’t know me. Since Sarah handled everything for Caleb’s hospitalization personally, everyone in the department assumed Caleb was her husband. And Sarah never corrected them. “Exactly. Instead of saving his own brother, he’s hitting on his sister-in-law.” “Whatever heart you have, it’s wasted on you.” Hearing their words, I wanted to scream the truth. “Actually, I’m the one who…” Sarah stormed out of the prep room and grabbed my wrist. “Today, you are donating that heart.” “Your brother is already in the operating room. You’re next.” She slapped a stack of papers onto the counter. “I’ve already signed the consent forms. Get on the table.” Inside the OR, I saw Caleb. He looked so frail, eliciting sympathy from everyone around him. “Don’t worry, Caleb. Your wife, Dr. Sarah, will make sure you live a long life.” Caleb didn’t correct the title. He just gave a weak smile. “It’s all my fault. Making my little brother sacrifice so much for me.” His voice was filled with self-blame, but the look he gave me was pure provocation. The other doctors murmured about how kind my brother was, and how heartless I must be. After comforting Caleb, Sarah ignored my violent struggles and forced me onto the operating table. She ordered the anesthesiologist to sedate me immediately. Moments later, my struggles ceased as the drugs took hold. Sarah brushed her hand across my cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you survive.” Her mentor had performed heart transplants before, so she was confident she could keep me alive. “Once your brother recovers, the whole family will accept you. And I’ll be right by your side.” 3. Sarah and her colleagues began the surgery with tense efficiency. After what felt like an eternity, Sarah removed a heart from my chest. Without even looking at me, she took my heart and rushed into Caleb’s operating room. My chest lay open, my body alone on the cold table. The shrill alarm of the monitoring equipment startled the attending doctor awake. “Why did he flatline? I thought he had two hearts?” One of Sarah’s colleagues looked confused. “Dr. Sarah was just joking, and you believed her?” “Good riddance. He was a bad seed anyway. Wouldn’t save Dr. Sarah’s husband and tried to hit on her.” Another colleague chimed in. “So what do we do now?” “He’s dead. Just wait for someone to claim the body. If no one comes, send him to the morgue.” With that, the doctors left the room. Sarah focused entirely on Caleb’s surgery. Despite her confidence, this was her first transplant. Fortunately, hours later, the surgery was a success. Sarah followed Caleb to the recovery room. Only after Caleb was settled did she remember me. She was about to head back to my OR when she bumped into a colleague in the hallway. “Where is my husband?” The colleague paused, then answered. “Isn’t he back already?” “Don’t worry. The nurses will keep an eye on your husband.” Sarah didn’t catch the oddness in the reply. She figured her colleague was right. With her around, the nurses would look after me. So, Sarah went back to her office to work. A day later, Caleb woke up. Sarah was by his side. “Caleb, you’re finally awake.” Seeing Sarah, Caleb burst into tears of relief. 4. Sarah hugged him tight. “Don’t worry. The surgery went perfectly.” “Your heart won’t give you any more trouble.” Caleb touched his chest. Thinking about how his lifelong illness was finally gone, he held onto Sarah and wept. Sarah reminded him to stay calm while rubbing his back. A nurse passing by teased them. “Dr. Sarah is so good to her husband.” Sarah froze. She remembered I was still in another room on the ward. She started to explain. “You misunderstand, he’s not…” Caleb clutched his chest, cutting her off. Sarah had to pat his back again. “I told you not to cry. You need to rest to recover.” Seeing Caleb like this reminded her of me. She hadn’t seen me since the surgery. “Caleb, rest now. I’m going to check on Lucas.” She started to stand up. But Caleb grabbed her hand. “I kept the surgery a secret from Mom and Dad. This is the critical recovery period. If I’m alone, I’m scared something will go wrong.” Seeing Caleb’s pale face, Sarah’s heart softened. She figured her colleagues and the nurses would look out for me because of her. She relaxed. “Alright. I’ll stay with you a few more days.” Caleb watched Sarah sit back down before slowly closing his eyes. In the morgue, an attendant stared at my body, troubled. “It’s been two days and no one’s claimed him. What do we do?” Another attendant was cleaning up. “What are you looking at? Let’s just bag him and go home.” Together, they tossed my body into a bag. “Look at him. Died so miserably. Probably wasn’t a good person.” “Good, bad, they all burn the same.” “True. Shame though, he was so young.”

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The day Adrian Cavagin proposed to me, marking twelve years together, was the day he confessed to cheating. Just like that. No warning. “Marry me or leave me. The choice is yours.” He casually flicked a petal from the bouquet of roses I was holding. He told me he’d gone on a little date with the new intern at his company, right before coming to propose. “The florist said ninety-nine roses for a proposal. Not one less. It’s meant to symbolize forever,” he said, a faint smile on his lips. “But the girl said she liked them, so I gave one to her. Didn’t even think twice.” The tears of joy from his proposal were still wet on my cheeks. I stared at him, my mind refusing to process his words. “You like her that much?” He shook his head, his gaze light and airy as it drifted over my face. “Eh, it was what it was. I just suddenly realized… that’s all I feel for you, too. Just… what it is. Trying something new now and then, it’s refreshing.” He shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “But we’ve been together for so long. It’s a habit. So, really, it’s up to you.” I stood frozen. Suddenly, the ninety-eight roses in my arms felt heavier than lead, crushing the air from my lungs. … Adrian lit a cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke directly into my face. “Even last month, when you called me from the hospital after your ulcer surgery, I was with her. We were skiing in Iceland.” His voice was conversational. “Extreme sports… I’m getting too old for them. But when she grabbed my hand, squealing with excitement… it felt new.” I stared at him, numb. I remembered last month. Years of entertaining clients with him at lavish dinners had finally caught up to me, the gastritis flaring into a bleeding ulcer that landed me in the ER. I called him, my voice weak and hazy with pain. He’d sounded groggy, mumbling something about a difficult client. Not wanting to worry him, I swallowed the tremor in my voice and told him I was fine, just to take care of himself, to get some rest. He paused now, taking another drag from his cigarette. “I knew something was wrong. I could hear it in your voice. I hesitated, but… she can be very persuasive.” Silence stretched between us. He tapped the ash from his cigarette onto the polished floor. “If you want to break up, you can have five of the nine properties.” His tone was flat, business-like. “The company shares are off the table, but I won’t short you on the money. Or we can get married. You’ll always be Mrs. Cavagin.” Thirty minutes ago, surrounded by a sea of roses and the soft flicker of candlelight, with him on one knee and a universe of promise in his eyes, I thought I was the happiest woman in the world. A tear hit the floor with a soft splash. I looked at him, lost. “Why? Why today of all days?” Adrian sighed, reaching out as if to wipe my tears. “I didn’t want to. But I’m tired of lying to you, Clara. We’re not even thirty. The thought of being tied down for the rest of our lives… it’s terrifying.” I slapped his hand away, a raw scream tearing from my throat as I began to destroy everything. The vases of roses, the carefully arranged candles, the whole picture-perfect scene—I smashed it all to pieces. “Don’t you come near me!” The thorny stems of the roses scratched my hands, drawing blood. His expression hardened, and he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t be like this. I gave you a choice. I’m not forcing you to accept—” I recoiled, my entire body trembling. “Don’t touch me! Please… just let me think!” He shoved me away in frustration and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. “Fine. Think all you want.” I collapsed to the floor, a long, bloody gash marking my leg where a rose stem had caught me. The reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window stared back at me: a wild-haired, mascara-streaked monster. A madwoman. I don’t remember how I got home. It was the middle of July, but I was so cold my teeth were chattering. After swallowing a handful of pills from a bottle, I fell into a dream of the past, of a time when Adrian and I were just two unwanted kids in an orphanage. The director was trying to sell me to a crippled old man. Adrian grabbed my hand and we ran. “If you care so much, why don’t you take care of her for the rest of your life?” the director had shrieked after us. The boy turned back, his eyes burning bright. “I will! I damn well will!” He worked under the table, entertained sleazy businessmen, and clawed his way up from nothing. Life bore down on his spine until it groaned with the strain, leaving him with a body full of stress-related ailments, but he always, always took care of me. The night I graduated, he nearly drank himself into a hospital bed at a business dinner. But he still showed up late at night with a bouquet of flowers, asking if he had made me happy. I’d nodded through my tears, and he held me so tight I could barely breathe. “I will love you, Clara. I’ll always make you happy.” It was a beautiful dream, shattered by the violent buzzing of my phone. News alerts were flooding my screen. Tech Mogul Adrian Cavagin in Fender Bender with Mystery Woman. In the accompanying video, he was smiling, handing a business card to the paparazzi. “You want a statement? Call my fiancée.” My phone exploded with calls from reporters. My hands shook as I dialed Adrian’s number, demanding an explanation. His voice was lazy, unconcerned. “Clara, if we’re going to be married, this is part of the package. Welcome to the big leagues. You need to learn how to handle these things.” The vultures were already circling our house. I slammed my foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway. I remembered three years ago, when the paparazzi had surrounded us for the first time. Adrian was just starting to make a name for himself, and an old-money tycoon wanted him for a son-in-law. It was a shortcut to the top. But Adrian, facing the threat of being blacklisted, had refused. He smiled for the cameras, his arm wrapped gently around me. “Everything I have, I owe to the woman I love. Without her, what’s the point of all this fame and fortune?” Everyone had wondered what our fairytale romance was really like. Three years. It felt like a lifetime ago. The moment I stormed into his office building and saw the looks of pity and sympathy on his employees’ faces, I knew. I shoved open the door to his office. The scene inside ripped through my rage and left only a shard of ice in its place. The choice Adrian had given me suddenly had its answer. The faint, sour smell of sex hung in the air. Used condoms were scattered on the floor. A framed photo of us from years ago was lying face down on his desk. On the glass over my smiling face, a clear handprint. I leaned against the wall, dry-heaving until my stomach cramped. The girl on the couch dressed herself with unhurried grace. “So this is the wife. She’s not much to look at, is she?” Adrian’s gaze was heavy on me. “Get out. For now.” The girl pouted. “But you said we could continue…” His jaw tightened with impatience. “Just listen. We’ll talk tonight.” She smirked, deliberately pulling a pair of lace panties from his pants pocket and dangling them in my direction. “Fine. I’ll be waiting. We still have that new move to try, remember?” She sashayed out. Adrian offered no explanation. He just poured me a glass of water and gently patted my back. “You did well just now. Didn’t make a scene.” His tone was calm, almost approving. “Does this mean you’ve made up your mind? Starting to act like a proper wife.” The glass shattered in my hand. I started to laugh, a broken, hollow sound. “Adrian, I choose neither.” I made a scene. A huge one. I demanded he fire his new “assistant.” He looked at my tear-streaked, bloodshot eyes and soothed me with gentle words. “She’s just an assistant. It’s done. Don’t ruin your health over it.” Maybe it was pride, maybe it was resentment, or maybe I just couldn’t let go. I clung to our rotting relationship, believing that as long as I held on tight, we could go back to the way things were. On our anniversary, I cooked a feast, a desperate attempt to mend the chasm between us. But what I got instead were photos of him in bed with the latest influencer, spreading like wildfire through our social circle. I flipped the table, sending food and porcelain crashing to the floor. I went to the media. I went to his business partners. I tried to teach him a lesson. But reality taught me one instead. With a single phone call from Adrian, the media wouldn’t touch the story. Instead, they painted me as a paranoid, jealous shrew. He even put out a word to his contacts to throw more advertising deals the influencer’s way, offering to negotiate his own partnership costs to make it happen. I became the laughingstock of the city. He didn’t even like her that much. It was just a lesson, a way to force me to accept my new reality. “Clara,” he said, his voice patient, as if explaining something to a child. “You didn’t like the last one, so I got rid of her. This new one… she’s a bit more tenacious, but I can get rid of her too. But you have to tell me, when does it end?” He rubbed his temples. “We have twenty years between us. I’m willing to be patient with you. This time, let me teach you how it’s done.” He transferred the deed of the first apartment we ever bought to the influencer. The year he started his company, we were broke, living in a cramped, fifteen-square-meter basement apartment. The window was drafty, and in the winter, it was like living in an icebox. I remember being delirious with fever on our lumpy, second-hand mattress. He just held me, his own body shivering. The moment his business took off, he spent every penny we had on that apartment. His eyes were red with emotion that day. “Clara,” he had said, his voice thick. “I can finally give you a home.” Two flightless birds, abandoned by their parents, finally had a nest. I cried until I had no dignity left, but the apartment was still gone. The influencer was replaced by a starlet, the starlet by a fresh-faced model. One time, I came home from a physical therapy appointment to find him with someone in our bed. That’s when I started to unravel. Every time I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the jeering faces of the world. Your father didn’t want you, your mother didn’t want you, and now Adrian doesn’t want you either. I didn’t know what I was trying to hold onto anymore. I put cameras in our cars, in our rooms. I stalked him, hiding in places I thought he might appear. I took pictures of his affairs, one after another. And what did I get for it? A restraining order. Adrian filed for a protection order against me. The police got involved. I was forced to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. The night I was released, I mechanically dialed his number over and over. A woman finally answered, her voice laced with a post-coital breathlessness. “Looking for Adrian? He’s a little… busy right now.” The pain was a physical thing, a blade twisting in my chest. I found a knife and held it to my heart. Our housekeeper found me and called Adrian. He looked at me with a complicated expression, a long sigh escaping his lips. “Okay, maybe I’ve taken things too far these last few days. I gave you a choice, Clara. If you can’t take it, you can leave. I never wanted to hurt you.” Back in college, Adrian had to support us both. He worked multiple jobs, living on two bread rolls a day just so he could pay my tuition. The severe malnutrition landed him in the hospital. I remember tracing his sharp, protruding ribs, begging him through my tears to just leave me, to save himself. It was the first time he ever got angry with me. “Clara Reed, we’ve been together since we were seven years old. If you tell me to leave, I won’t survive.” I clutched my chest now, my mind a blank. “Adrian… why doesn’t it hurt you?” His face darkened. “Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t easy for anyone.” The knife incident made him back off for a while. I spent my days in a daze, watching him, not knowing what I was thinking or feeling. But one scar wasn’t enough to chain him down. He found a new girl. This one was different. She was timid and mousy, with dark, sallow skin. The moment she saw me, she would tremble and apologize. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I really didn’t know.” She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. For the first time, Adrian stood between me and one of his women, his eyes dark with a silent threat. “Nina doesn’t know anything. I’m the one who lied to her. Clara, you can throw whatever tantrums you want, but if you touch her, all our previous agreements are off the table.” Nina really was different. Adrian, who was allergic to dogs, got a Pomeranian for her. He would come home on time every single day to walk it with her, his face covered in red, itchy blotches. For her birthday, he bought an entire amusement park. I doubled over, a sudden, sharp pain stealing my breath. My eighteenth birthday. Adrian had scraped together every penny he had to give me a proper coming-of-age gift. I chose a run-down, nearly abandoned amusement park. I told him it was more than enough. The rides were old and creaky. We rode the roller coaster and the carousel, and the whole day cost less than five dollars. I had the time of my life. I remember seeing Adrian watch me, his eyes red. On the way home, he squeezed my hand. He promised that one day, he would take me to the biggest amusement park in the world. He would buy one just for me. Later, when we finally had money, I mentioned going to Disneyland. He was always too busy. I understood. I knew how hard he worked. Eventually, I forgot about it myself. But he hadn’t forgotten. He had just given his promise to someone else. The final straw was the ring he gave Nina. It was a custom design, intricately engraved with her name. Not like the one he’d given me, a generic, tacky thing he’d picked up on a whim. He slipped the ring on her finger. His smile was genuine. “I want to make you happy for the rest of your life.” Nina blushed, a shy dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth. I looked in a mirror and finally understood why she looked so familiar. She looked just like me, when I was young. That realization shattered the last piece of me. I stormed into the amusement park and, in a hysterical rage, I scratched their faces, my nails digging into their skin. “If you don’t love me anymore, why did you fall in love with a copy of my face?” Adrian had his bodyguards drag me away. “She’s insane! Get a psychiatrist to the house!” That night, I smashed every mirror in the house. I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t accept it.

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