Category: English

“The day Mom and I moved into the Sterling estate, a year to the day after Mrs. Sterling’s death, was the day my real life began. Mom had finally landed her whale, Mr. Sterling. It didn’t matter that there was no ring, no title. From now on, there would be food on the table and designer bags in her closet. That was enough. But it wasn’t enough for her to simply secure her own position. She had to secure mine, too. She pushed me in front of the Sterling heir, Conrad, as if offering up a sacrifice. A handmaiden for the young prince. Conrad Sterling hated my mother with a vengeance that was practically biblical. By extension, he was disgusted by me. I didn’t care. I loved being his shadow. When he ate shrimp, I peeled them. When he ate grapes, I was there with cupped hands to catch the seeds. After I graduated high school, I slid seamlessly into an internship at his company. I squeezed out his favorite executive assistant and took her place. This continued until the news of his engagement broke. He gripped my hand, his knuckles white, and gave me an ultimatum: choose him, or choose the Sterling fortune. I shoved him away without a second thought. “”You go alone,”” I said. “”I’m staying to inherit the family fortune.”” 1 In the opulent, sun-drenched living room of the Sterling main house, I saw him for the first time. He descended the sweeping spiral staircase slowly, a king surveying a hostile takeover of his castle. He wore a black turtleneck that made his pale, fine-boned face seem almost sculpted from marble. His legs were long, his posture perfect. But the gaze he fixed on me from his elevated position was filled with a thick, undiluted hatred. I shrank behind my mother, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. “”Ivy,”” my mother cooed, her smile stretched thin and brittle. “”Say hello to your new brother.”” She nudged me forward, a deliberate, cruel little jab at him. As expected, before I could even open my mouth, he spat on the floor at my feet. A clear, deliberate insult. I swallowed the hot sting of tears, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and looked up at him. I smiled. “”Hello, Conrad.”” Mr. Sterling’s face flushed with embarrassment. He rushed over to play peacemaker, scolding Conrad in a low voice before turning to me with a strained smile. “”Ivy is so mature for her age,”” he praised. Mature. I almost laughed. In that, at least, he was right. I was mature enough to understand the precariousness of our position. My mother came from nothing. She had no connections, no family money. Her only leverage in this house was Mr. Sterling’s affection. And Mr. Sterling had built his empire on the back of his late wife’s family money. After her death, her entire stake in the company—a controlling interest—had passed directly to her only son, Conrad. As for me? I was the daughter of the other woman. I had no blood ties to Conrad, and Mr. Sterling’s fortune would never, ever fall into my hands. On the surface, my mother and I were living a life of unimaginable luxury. In reality, we were powerless. Which is why I had to get close to Conrad Sterling. If not friends, then at least not enemies. So began my decade-long performance. I orbited him, anticipated him, served him. He ate shrimp; I peeled them, my fingers slick with brine. He ate grapes; I held my hands out to catch the tiny seeds, a human receptacle. I was more efficient than any paid servant in that house. They whispered about me behind my back, of course. The maids, the cooks, the drivers. Their scorn was a constant hum in the background of my life. But Conrad, for all his hatred, found my devotion… useful. He never gave me a kind word, never a warm glance. But the benefits were undeniable. Elite tutors were hired for one-on-one sessions in the library. Invitations to exclusive summer programs at Ivy League schools appeared on my pillow. My allowance was deposited in five-figure increments. As long as the money kept coming, I didn’t care what anyone thought. My mother, however, couldn’t stand it. At thirty-five, she threw herself into a desperate, high-risk pregnancy, trying to produce a new heir, a new claim. She didn’t understand. It didn’t matter. Her games had no effect on my own. Because I wasn’t just after his power. I was after him. 2 My mother’s attempt at a third child ultimately failed. I knew it was the result of a quiet, multi-pronged war waged behind closed doors, and I knew Conrad was the victor. It only made me double down on my efforts. He was the sole heir. Mr. Sterling had his life mapped out: an Ivy League education in the States, then a seamless transition into the CEO’s chair at Sterling Corp. But Conrad refused. After graduation, he came back and started his own firm. His mother’s brother, my late step-aunt’s brother, doted on his nephew and pulled strings, flooding Conrad’s new venture with investment capital. The company took off like a rocket. Conrad poured everything into his work. First, it was late nights and early mornings. Then, he moved out of the Sterling estate altogether. The opportunities for me to see him dwindled, and a knot of panic began to tighten in my chest. Finally, as my own college graduation approached, I saw my chance. At a rare family dinner, I timidly brought up the idea of an internship at his company. Mr. Sterling glanced at my mother, who gave his sleeve a subtle, pleading tug. “”Ivy has ambition,”” Mr. Sterling declared, his voice booming with forced cheer. “”That’s a good thing.”” He poured Conrad a glass of wine, a clear peace offering. “”You’re her older brother. You should help her out.”” Conrad swirled the deep red liquid in his glass, his eyes flicking over to me. He said nothing. I knew the very idea of my presence in his sanctuary must have felt like swallowing glass. But I would do what it took. I had to be near him. I lowered my head, curling my shoulders inward, making myself as small and non-threatening as possible. A little quail, trembling in the presence of a hawk. “”I won’t be any trouble, Conrad,”” I whispered. “”I promise.”” He let out a short, cold huff of air. “”Whatever,”” he muttered, pushing his chair back and leaving the room. Mr. Sterling’s face was a mask of thunder. I watched Conrad’s retreating back, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across my lips. A week later, I arrived at his gleaming downtown office building. The receptionist gave me a long, dismissive once-over and then gestured for security. “”We don’t hire temporary staff,”” she said, her voice dripping with ice. Her eyes scanned my simple dress as if I were something she’d scrape off her shoe. My hands curled into fists at my sides. I opened my mouth to explain, but a security guard was already gripping my arm. “”Let’s go, miss. Out.”” “”Someone like you couldn’t even get a job as a security guard here,”” the other one grunted, shoving me toward the glass doors. Laughter followed me out onto the scorching pavement. The sun beat down relentlessly. Conrad’s phone went straight to voicemail. My texts went unanswered. I knew what this was. This was a message. This was him putting me in my place. 3 I waited on the curb outside his office building until nine o’clock that night. Finally, the familiar, low growl of his Porsche echoed in the parking garage. Conrad emerged first. He seemed unsteady on his feet, his usually sharp features softened by a faint flush. His tie was loosened, hanging askew, and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up to his forearms, revealing the taut lines of his muscles. A business dinner, then. I hesitated. This was probably the worst possible time to approach him. A cold, imperious man drowning in alcohol would only become crueler. Just as I was about to turn and slip away into the night, he did something unexpected. He walked around to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door, bent down, and carefully placed a hand on the roof’s edge to shield the person inside. “”Watch your head,”” he said. His voice was steady, calm. And then, as the person in the backseat looked up at him, I saw it. The corner of his mouth tilted upward in a small, genuine smile. It was a look of pure, unadulterated delight—a side of Conrad Sterling I had never seen before. It wasn’t until the car pulled away that I got a clear look at her. A girl. She wore dark jeans and a plain white t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was clutching a stack of files to her chest, radiating an unpolished, collegiate innocence. She had to be a recent graduate. So. This was his type. All this time, I’d half-convinced myself he wasn’t interested in women at all. His entire life, he’d been a magnet for them. In high school, I was the one who collected the love letters from his locker, and I was the one who burned them in a metal bin in the backyard at home. For five years, the ash from those letters fertilized the rose bushes until they grew lush and wild, but the iron tree of Conrad’s heart never once bloomed. Until now, apparently. And his flower of choice was a simple, unassuming daisy. I squared my shoulders and walked toward them. “”Conrad,”” I said, my voice soft. “”I’ve been waiting for you all day.”” The smile vanished from his face as if it had been wiped clean. “”What are you doing here?”” he asked, his brow furrowing as he feigned ignorance. But I saw the flicker of cruel amusement in his eyes. “”Please, just let me have the internship,”” I pleaded, twisting the hem of my dress. “”I’ve done so much research. I won’t cause any trouble. I swear.”” This was the game. Mr. Sterling had played the bad cop, forcing his hand. Now I had to play the good cop, massaging his ego. My display of groveling seemed to work. The hard lines around his eyes softened slightly. “”Anna,”” he said, turning to the girl beside him. “”Get her processed tomorrow. Intern.”” He gestured vaguely in my direction. “”This is my secretary. Just coordinate with her.”” I looked at the girl again. Anna. She offered me a bright, polite smile. She had an aura of quiet grace, and a nagging feeling told me I’d seen her somewhere before. I glanced at the employee badge clipped to her jeans: Anna Thompson. A nice name. But a little voice in my head insisted it was wrong.”

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Working late, past midnight, I was waiting for a file to export and decided to kill time by scrolling through TikTok. The video on my screen showed a girl clutching a bouquet of flowers at an airport arrivals gate. When she saw the person she was waiting for, she launched herself into his arms. He laughed, catching her in a tight embrace. The caption read: “My rock is back.” I froze. The man in the video had just wished me goodnight an hour ago. I dialed Jack’s number, my voice eerily calm. “Where are you?” The sound of loud music and laughter crackled through the phone. “Out with the riding crew,” he said breezily. “You’re so far away, Winnie. It gets lonely out here, they’re the only ones I’ve got to talk to.” Before I could answer, another voice cut in, “Yo, Jack, your shot! Stop slacking.” 1. In the back of the cab on the way home, I couldn’t resist opening the video again. There was no mistaking it. The shirt Jack was wearing—I’d picked it out myself. I scrolled to the comments. Someone had asked the girl if he was her boyfriend. She’d replied openly: *[Just my best riding buddy!] * Her profile was filled with photos from their motorcycle trips. Jack had loved riding since college. After he was transferred to the Chicago branch, he didn’t know a soul. He told me he’d found a few people on a local forum to ride with. He’d never hidden any of it from me. But he never told me one of his “buddies” was a girl like this. The next morning, I grabbed the suitcase I’d already packed and headed for the airport. After landing in Chicago, I went straight to the Sterling Corporation tower. The receptionist greeted me warmly, taking my luggage. “Ms. Thorne! We heard HQ was sending a new Director of Operations. I had no idea it was you.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Mr. Heston is upstairs. I’ll take you up.” I smiled back at her, but as I stepped into the elevator, my breath hitched in my chest. Since Jack’s transfer, we had been long-distance for two years. Two years of working our asses off, climbing the ladder in our respective cities. And now, finally, I was here. I could stand in his city, under the same sky. The elevator stopped smoothly on the nineteenth floor. The doors slid open, and a pair of eyes immediately locked onto me. The receptionist gestured to a beautiful young woman in a chic tweed suit. “This is Mr. Heston’s new assistant, Chloe.” Then she turned back to me. “And this is—” I cut her off. “I’m the new Director of Operations from headquarters, Winnie Thorne.” The woman opposite me hesitated for a fraction of a second before addressing me. “Ms. Thorne.” My heart, which had been fluttering with anticipation, plummeted into a black abyss. I knew that face, that voice. I’d spent the entire night staring at her profile. “Winnie? What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice came from behind me. I turned. His eyes held surprise, but not a trace of joy. 2 Jack stared for a moment before rushing over. There was no joyful embrace, no warmth of a long-awaited reunion. Instead, his eyes flickered instinctively to Chloe, who stood watching us. I offered a cool smile. “Let’s stick to titles at work, Mr. Heston.” He flinched. “So the person HQ was sending… it really was you.” He took my suitcase, muttered something about not wanting to be disturbed, and quickly ushered me into his office. He pressed his lips together, his gaze cautious. “Winnie, what’s wrong? Are you upset because I went out for drinks last night and didn’t tell you?” I didn’t say a word. My eyes swept across his office, a space I’d seen countless times over video calls but was now entering for the first time. On his desk was a picture frame. I glanced at it, expecting to see us. But our photo was gone, replaced by a handsome shot of him on his motorcycle. He followed my gaze and cleared his throat. “Too many people come in and out of the office. I keep our photo at home now.” I looked at him, a quiet weight settling between us. It had been three months since we’d last seen each other. I had imagined this moment a thousand times—would we cry? Laugh? Or just hold each other in a silent, desperate hug? I had never imagined this suffocating awkwardness. Without a word, I took out my phone and played the video. Chloe’s voice, bright and carefree, filled the sterile office. A flash of panic crossed Jack’s face. “Winnie, she’s just a riding buddy. There’s nothing going on.” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. “She’s also your assistant. Why did you never mention her?” “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice rising with anxiety. “We met in the riding group first. We’d been on a few runs together. Her major was a perfect fit for the role, and she was looking for a job, so I offered it to her. We’re just friends, that’s all. Buddies.” He finally stepped forward, pulling me into a belated, stiff hug. “Winnie, we’ve been together for five years. It hasn’t been easy getting here. I cherish what we have.” A sharp sting pricked my nose. He pulled back and showed me his phone. “Look, I already booked a flight to see you this weekend. I can’t believe you came first. I’m so happy, Winnie. Truly.” He looked so sincere, so earnest, that the accusations died in my throat. He wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and took my hand, leading me out of the office. Chloe was sitting at her desk just outside. She stood up the moment she heard the door. “Jack—” Her eyes fell on our intertwined hands, and she stopped short. Jack’s voice was firm, official. “Let me introduce you. This is Winnie Thorne, our new Director of Operations. She’s also my girlfriend.” Chloe’s smile was strained. “Oh, the missus. I’ve heard so much about you.” Jack’s expression hardened, but there was a laugh in his voice. “Show some respect. We use titles in the office.” He turned to me. “You head down to the operations department. I’ll pick you up after work.” I nodded and walked away. Behind me, I heard Chloe’s indignant voice. “You’re gonna be mean to me just ’cause your girlfriend’s here? What happened to being buddies? Fine. We’re not riding tonight. Or ever again!” Jack laughed and playfully smacked her on the back. “Not a chance. Ride or die, remember? We’re buddies for life.” My steps faltered. I practically fled the nineteenth floor. I sat in my new, empty office for half an hour, then made another call. “I’m not taking the position in Chicago. I’ll come home. I’ll take the arranged marriage.” On the other end of the line, my brother, Bob, was stunned into silence for a moment before chuckling. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve worked so hard to get here on your own. You’re this close to getting Dad to finally approve. Why give up now?” When I didn’t answer, his tone shifted. “Winnie, what is it? Did that bastard Jack do something to you?” The dam broke. A sob caught in my throat. “Bob… I’m just so confused. Whatever happens, you should probably keep an eye out for a better candidate for the Chicago job.” “And, Bob?” I added, my voice trembling. “Can you do a background check on someone for me…?” 3 The Chicago skyline was a blaze of light. It was already nine o’clock. The building was nearly empty, but I hadn’t received a single message from Jack. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer and called him. When he picked up, I asked tentatively, “Jack, are you still busy?” There was a pause, and then he was a flurry of apologies. “Oh god, Winnie, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot you were in Chicago. I went out to dinner with my buddies.” My heart turned to ice. I looked out at the glittering neon signs. The city was just coming alive. But I had come here alone, full of courage and hope. Was this all it was leading to? Half an hour later, the door to my office flew open and Jack rushed in, out of breath. He collapsed in front of me, crouching down to look me in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Winnie. I honestly forgot. I’m so, so sorry. Hit me, yell at me, whatever you want.” A three-hour flight, a full afternoon of work… I was physically and mentally drained. Before I could even speak, a figure appeared in the doorway behind him. A look of embarrassment crossed Jack’s face. “I’d been drinking. Chloe gave me a ride.” The will to speak completely deserted me. I just picked up my bag. “Let’s go.” I sat in the back seat, watching as Jack, in the passenger seat, nervously monitored Chloe’s driving. “Check your mirror when you change lanes. How many times do I have to tell you?” Chloe waved a dismissive hand. “You’re such an old man, Jack. God, I know, I know.” They were so close, so comfortable, it was as if I wasn’t even there. I finally understood. Two years of living apart had changed him. This was not the Jack I remembered. When the car stopped, Chloe offered to help with my luggage. Then, with the ease of long practice, she unlocked the door to Jack’s apartment with her fingerprint. She dangled the car keys in front of him and gave him a look. Jack handed me a pair of generic gray guest slippers. But I could clearly see a pink pair tucked away in the shoe cabinet. He guided me to the sofa to rest while he bustled around, unpacking my things. Once everything was put away, he approached me, hesitating. “Winnie… I left the dinner so abruptly, I feel bad. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll just go back and show my face for a little bit, and then I’ll be right back, okay?” I suddenly understood the silent message Chloe had given him with the car keys. I looked at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Jack, what do you take me for?” “Winnie, you’re my girlfriend,” he said, his voice laced with desperation. “You’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. That has never changed.” “Today was my fault, I know. But these last two years… it’s not like you, back in New York with your family and friends. Chicago is a cold place. These buddies are all I have, the only people I can grab a drink with. I don’t want to lose them.” He took a deep breath. “We’re really, truly, just buddies.” I felt like all the strength had been drained from my body. “Fine. Go. Come back early.” His face lit up with relief. He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, and rushed out the door. I stood at the window and watched as he practically jogged down the street, my tears falling without warning. Late that night, he crept into the room and gently tucked the covers around me, his lips brushing my ear in a kiss that smelled of whiskey. I stared at the ceiling, my voice quiet in the darkness. “You’ve been in Chicago for two years now. If you came back to HQ, you’d definitely get a promotion. Have you thought about applying for a transfer…?” I felt his breath catch, just for a second. But he didn’t move. And he didn’t answer. 4 Life in Chicago settled into a routine. Jack was still gentle with me. He would wait for me after work, drive me home. For a month, he turned down every social event, and he didn’t go riding once. But a seed of doubt, once planted, is impossible to uproot. Chloe’s TikTok account was a Pandora’s box, tempting me again and again to open it, to watch the life he had lived without me. One day, Jack was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other holding his phone, a wide grin on his face. I knew what he was looking at. Their riding crew had a group chat that buzzed with activity all day long. Suddenly, he turned to me, his voice cautious. “The crew says it’s been a while. They want to go for a run in the hills tonight… Winnie, why don’t you come with me?” I looked at him. “Okay.” His smile froze. In five years, we had done everything together, but riding was always his thing, not ours. “Well,” he said, his tone unreadable, “we’ll have to take it slow with you on the back. Just a scenic ride.” The next second, a motorcycle roared past us. It was Chloe. “Try and catch me, old man!” she yelled, her voice carried on the wind. “If you can!” Something inside him ignited. He slammed his foot on the gas, the car lurching forward. The color drained from my face. I gripped his shirt, my voice a terrified whisper. “Jack, I’m scared…” He didn’t hear me. He was laser-focused on the bike ahead, pushing the car faster and faster, weaving through the winding mountain roads. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to burst. When he finally pulled over, I stumbled out of the car and was violently sick. Chloe handed me a bottle of water. “Ms. Thorne, with a delicate constitution like yours, maybe you should just stay home next time.” Jack was off talking to the others, barely sparing me a glance. On the way home, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with complaint. “I told you it wasn’t for you. You insisted on coming.” I looked down. “It won’t happen again.” Never again. I threw myself into my work. One afternoon, a shriek echoed through the office. My assistant, Molly, burst in, her face pale. “Ms. Thorne, the contract with Grayson Corp… they never stamped it.” I shot to my feet. The entire department had worked overtime for half a month on that deal. As my team erupted into panicked chatter, I silenced them with a look. “Who gave it to you?” “It was… Mr. Heston’s assistant, Chloe,” Molly whispered. I stormed up to the nineteenth floor, my anger a burning knot in my stomach. I slammed the contract down on Chloe’s desk. “My department worked for two weeks straight, and you’re telling me now that the contract was never even finalized? How could you have missed this?” The entire floor fell silent, heads turning to watch the drama unfold. Jack came out of his office, looking surprised. He picked up the contract. “Winnie, it’s a minor mistake. There’s no need to make a scene.” “A minor mistake?” I stared at him in disbelief. “Half a month of our work is down the drain! Mr. Heston, is this the kind of work your people do?” His face darkened. But then Chloe spoke, her voice ringing with defiance. “I know you’ve had it out for me from the beginning. It’s my fault, I admit it. I’ll resign, is that what you want?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “It is your fault. Do you have any idea how big this deal was? Can you afford to pay for this loss?” “That’s enough!” Jack’s voice was a whip crack. “Winnie,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “you come storming up here, screaming at my staff without knowing all the facts. Don’t you think that’s a bit out of line?” My eyes widened. Before I could even form a reply, he continued. “You have an entire department of people. Didn’t a single one of them think to double-check the document? Maybe you should focus on managing your own team, Ms. Thorne.” I took a deep breath, my voice shaking with rage. “Jack, you are so biased it’s unbelievable. Do you even know who you are?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “Of course, I know who I am. I may not be some golden child favored by HQ like you, but I know that here, in Chicago, I’m the General Manager.” “Now, if there’s nothing else, Ms. Thorne, please leave.” The office was dead silent. Everyone was watching. It was as if I was seeing him for the first time. My blood ran cold. Suddenly, the elevator doors dinged open, and a man in a sharp suit stepped out. “Who has the audacity to speak like that?” At the sound of that familiar voice, the strength I’d been clinging to finally gave out. Tears streamed down my face. Bob walked toward us. Jack’s face paled. “Mr. Sterling.” My brother ignored him completely, handing me a tissue. “The entire Sterling Corporation can be hers. Firing one incompetent employee is nothing.” He shot a look of pure contempt at Chloe. “You can get lost. Legal will be in touch about the damages you’ve caused.” Then, his gaze fell on Jack. “I put you in charge of Chicago, and this is how you treat my sister?” Jack’s face went from pale to ghostly white. 5 Bob’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable authority that echoed through the silent nineteenth floor. “S-sister?” The color drained completely from Jack’s face. He whipped his head around to stare at me. “Winnie… you… Mr. Sterling is…?” Bob scoffed. “If it wasn’t for Winnie, do you really think a kid a few years out of college would be running the Chicago branch?” I stood there, frozen. My brother’s arrival had shattered the last of my composure, ripping away every last pretense. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks, not of sorrow, but of a profound, soul-crushing absurdity. I watched his face, the shock and panic warring in his eyes, the desperate plea for this to be some kind of mistake. I suddenly felt so, so tired. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I use my mother’s surname. Bob is my full-blooded brother.” I met Jack’s gaze as Bob’s voice cut through the air again. “My father never thought much of you. Winnie fought for you, begged him, even knelt in front of him to give you this chance.” “The deal was that if you two could both prove yourselves, he wouldn’t force her into the arranged marriage. He would accept you as his son-in-law.” “You’ve been in Chicago for two years. In all that time, Winnie hasn’t taken a single day off at HQ. She worked relentlessly, just for the chance to be with you sooner.” Bob looked him up and down with disgust. “And what have you been doing? Living it up? Riding? Buddies? Don’t flatter yourself with such pathetic excuses.” He shot Jack one last cold, dismissive look, as if he were a piece of trash on the sidewalk. He put a protective arm around my shoulder, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Winnie, we’re leaving.” He didn’t spare another glance for Jack, or for the ashen-faced Chloe. The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of Jack stumbling forward as if waking from a dream, cutting off the dead silence and the dozens of prying eyes. The polished steel walls reflected my pale, tear-streaked face. “Bob…” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s okay,” he sighed, his voice softening. “The bet is over. I’ll talk to Dad.” So he knew. He’d known all along about my childish bet with our father. That I would make it on my own, using the name Winnie Thorne, without any help from the Sterling family. That if Jack and I could both rise to a high enough position within three years, proving our relationship wasn’t based on dependence, the family would accept him, and I could escape the cold, strategic marriage they had planned. Jack’s transfer to Chicago was a test, an opportunity. I had pushed myself to the breaking point at headquarters, so close to earning my father’s approval, so close to joining him here, side-by-side. I thought we were working toward the same future. How utterly laughable. All my perseverance, all my lonely courage, had just become the punchline to a cruel joke. Back at my temporary apartment, I packed my bags like an automaton. My phone screen lit up relentlessly with calls and texts from Jack. Winnie, please pick up! I’m begging you! I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know! Let me explain, there’s nothing going on with me and Chloe! She’s really just a buddy! Five years, Winnie. Are you really throwing it all away over a misunderstanding? Winnie Thorne! You played me for a fool! That last text was dripping with resentment and a bruised ego. My finger hovered over the screen, but I didn’t open a single message. I calmly called my brother. “Bob, change my flight. Get me on the next plane back to New York. And I’m resigning from the Director of Operations position in Chicago.” “Are you sure?” he asked. “Yes,” I said, closing my eyes. My voice was quiet, but firm. “I’m coming home for the arranged marriage.”

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My husband’s empire collapsed overnight. That same night, he rushed our son and me to a remote island, claiming we needed to hide from creditors. But something felt wrong. I turned back halfway, only to find him throwing a lavish party at our home, a beautiful woman in his arms. His friend smirked. “You sent them to that godforsaken rock? What will they eat?” Nate replied casually, “When Stella’s dog food brand failed, I had the surplus shipped there. It’s enough for years.” Stella snuggled closer. “You’re so good to me and our baby,” she whispered, touching her stomach. He chuckled. “You’re too soft-hearted. I had to remove that she-devil before she found out you’re pregnant. Once the baby’s born, I’ll bring them back. It’ll be too late for her to protest.” Lightning seemed to strike me; I broke into a cold sweat. Three years later, he called as planned. “How are you and Alan? I’m coming to get you.” I glanced at the man sleeping beside me and smiled. “We’re wonderful. My new husband is so good to me—and your son.” 1 There was a pause on the other end, followed by a chuckle. He thought I was joking. “Jenny, you haven’t changed a bit. Still got that sharp tongue.” “I know you’re upset I haven’t visited or called these past three years. But honey, circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I just settled the last of my debts, and you’re the first person I called. I’ll be there in two days to get you and Alan.” I was about to cut him off when my phone died. My new husband, Liam, stirred beside me. He rolled over, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me back into the warm cocoon of our bed. We’d been up late last night and were both exhausted. When I woke again in the afternoon, Liam was already at his office. A bodyguard had driven our son, Alan, to his international school. Feeling rested, I headed to the grocery store, planning to cook a special dinner for my two boys. I was inspecting a rack of lamb when a woman’s voice cut through the air. “Jenny?” I looked up. It was Stella. She was flanked by two maids, one of whom was holding a two-year-old girl. No paternity test was needed; the child was the spitting image of Nate. Stella’s eyes widened in genuine shock, clearly stunned to see me here. My own gaze, however, was fixed on the heirloom locket hanging around her neck—a locket that had been my mother’s. Three and a half years ago, Nate had told me he’d lost it. We filed a police report, and he’d stayed up for three straight nights, searching frantically. He had apologized with bloodshot eyes, and I had grieved for that precious memento for months. He knew it was the only thing I had left of my mother. And he had lied, giving it to her. Beyond the locket, she was dripping in designer labels and high-end jewelry. Nate had clearly taken very good care of her these past three years. “Sister,” Stella cooed, her voice laced with a cloying sweetness that felt more like a provocation. “Welcome back.” Three years ago, she would have bowed her head and addressed me as “Mrs. Peterson.” Back then, she owned a small dog food processing plant, and my mother-in-law, a dog lover, was a frequent customer. Stella was always so polite, so deferential. There was no hint of the shameless homewrecker she would become. 2 My hand shot out, and I ripped the locket from her neck. A raw, red line appeared on her pale skin. She gasped, clutching her throat. “Ouch!” “This is mine,” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare test me again. Next time, I won’t be so gentle.” I didn’t want a scene. When a man cheats, the fault lies with him. Stella’s expression soured, a mix of hurt and indignation. “I call you ‘sister’ out of respect for Nate,” she said, her voice rising. “He gave me that locket, and you’d better give it back. And another thing—Nate and I are together now. This is our daughter. I’ve always believed women shouldn’t make things hard for other women, which is why I’m always telling Nate to be kinder to you.” I scoffed. The audacity to spin such a web of self-serving lies, to act so righteous after committing such a despicable act. She pulled her daughter into her arms and pushed the child toward me. “Sweetie,” she instructed, “say hello to your auntie.” Her posture screamed magnanimity, as if my refusal to play along was a sign of my own petty nature. The little girl, innocent and cute, chirped, “Hi, auntie.” A surge of anger rose in me, but I would never take it out on a child. I turned to leave, ignoring Stella completely. Suddenly, her hand clamped down on my arm. The moment I flinched to pull away, she crumpled to the floor, clutching her child as if I had shoved her. She let out a pained cry, and the little girl began to wail. A crowd instantly gathered, their judgmental eyes on me. “How could you push a woman holding a baby?” “What a monster. Taking your anger out on a child…” My face was a cold mask. I pointed at Stella on the floor. “She’s a homewrecker who destroyed my family. I didn’t touch her—she threw herself on the ground. It’s just another one of her pathetic tricks.” With that, I walked away. Less than thirty minutes later, my phone was blowing up with calls from Nate. Stella had wasted no time. I didn’t answer. The texts started flooding in. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you wait for me to pick you up?” “Jenny, you went too far. What happened between Stella and me is my fault. If you’re going to be angry, be angry at me.” “Where are you? I’ll come get you. We can sit down as a family and talk this through.” “Honey, I need you to know that no matter how many children I have with Stella, you will always be the most important person in my life. My love for you will never change.” I felt sick. The truth was, the moment I returned, I had already contacted my lawyer. I was ready to fight. Just then, another notification popped up on my phone. A loan alert. Loan disbursement: Five million dollars. Over the past three years, Nate, in collusion with a corrupt bank employee, had taken out a total of one hundred million dollars in loans using my identity without my knowledge. My lawyer had already traced the funds. Every last cent had ended up in Stella’s account. He had spared no expense for her: luxury cars, mansions, and extravagant bids at auctions where he bought her whatever she desired, just to see her smile. I remembered a time, early on, when I had tested him. I’d called him, sobbing. “Nate, Alan has a raging fever. He’s so sick, and there’s no medicine on this island. Can you please send some money so I can get him to a hospital?” He had soothed me with empty words. “Boys are tough, Jenny. Their immune systems are strong. Just give him a cool bath. Honey, to be honest with you… I can’t even afford instant noodles right now. I don’t have a single penny to my name. Let’s just be strong, okay? The hard times will pass.” 3 The next day, I was struck with a sudden, agonizing pain. Appendicitis. I was writhing on the floor, soaked in so much sweat it was as if I’d been dunked in water. I didn’t even have the strength to make a call. My son, Alan, terrified, video-called Nate, begging him to come and take me to a hospital. Nate’s face showed a flicker of concern, but it was fleeting. “Just rub your mom’s tummy, son,” he’d said. “She’ll be fine in a bit. It’s probably just a stomach ache, nothing serious.” He hung up quickly. As the pain intensified, I passed out. Alan, in a panic, called him again. This time, Nate snapped. “Tell your mother to stop faking it!” After that, his phone was turned off. An appendix might not be a major organ, but the pain can be lethal. That was the moment I truly understood: a man whose heart has turned is more terrifying than any ghost. I screenshotted the loan notification and sent it to my lawyer. “Save this. Wait for my signal to file.” I took a deep breath, pushing the rage down, and went home to cook dinner. Liam was home early. He dropped his briefcase and rushed over to kiss me on the cheek. “Darling, you spoil me. That’s it, I’m definitely going to have to reward you tonight.” His idea of a “reward” was always the same, an inexhaustible passion that still made me blush. “Be serious,” I chided, pushing him away playfully. After a few more sweet nothings, he got down to business. “Nate Peterson invited me to his daughter’s birthday party.” Our eyes met, and a knowing smile spread across both our faces. A party that important? How could I possibly miss it? Two days later, Liam and I arrived together at the Peterson estate for the birthday celebration. Just as we entered, Liam had to take an urgent international conference call, so I went inside ahead of him. The sprawling French-style manor was situated in the most exclusive zip code in New York. While Nate was telling me he was bankrupt, shipping a ton of dog food to an island for me and our son, he was spending over one hundred and fifty million dollars to buy this very mansion, outbidding everyone else. All because Stella liked it. A tidal wave of hatred washed over me, and my steps grew firmer, more determined, as I walked into the villa. Inside the grand hall, Stella, dressed in a magnificent gown and holding her daughter, spotted me first. A provocative glint in her eye, she glided over. “Look, sweetie,” she purred, loud enough for others to hear. “Your ‘auntie’ is here to wish you a happy birthday. Why don’t you ask her what present she brought for you?” Her voice drew Nate over. His eyes widened when he saw me, a flicker of surprise mixed with something like pleasure. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Stella is being generous and won’t hold a grudge about the other day. It’s a huge step for you to finally control that temper of yours.” Then his gaze fell to my neck, where my mother’s locket now rested. His tone became firm, commanding. “Give the locket back to Stella. Her health is fragile, and I consulted a spiritualist who said only this piece can protect her energy. An object’s true value is realized when it’s with someone who truly needs it.” He smiled, a placating, patronizing smile. “Be a good girl. I’m back on my feet now. I can buy you as many lockets as you want. Stella is younger than you. You should be the bigger person and indulge her.” Give it back? My own property, and he wanted me to give it back to her? The absurdity of it all made me laugh, a sharp, bitter sound. “Nate, I’ve met shameless people before, but you… you’re in a league of your own. This locket was my mother’s. You stole it to give to your mistress, and now you have the nerve to tell me to return it?” Stella began to sob softly, delicate, theatrical tears streaming down her face as if I had inflicted some terrible wound. “Sister, you insulted me at the store, calling me a homewrecker and hitting me. Today is my daughter’s birthday. I’m begging you, please don’t humiliate me like this. I can take it, but think of the embarrassment you’re causing Nate and his parents.” I watched the two of them, a sickening spectacle. “It’s amazing how people with no shame suddenly decide they care about face.” “You!” Stella clutched her chest, pretending to be on the verge of collapse. That sent Nate into a panic. He lunged for me, his fingers digging into my neck as he tried to rip the locket off. The force was brutal, and tears of pain sprang to my eyes. At that moment, Stella added fuel to the fire. “She said she’d rather throw it in the trash than give it to me. Sister, I can pay you for it. How much do you want?” Her words enraged Nate. With a roar, he tore the locket from my neck and smashed it onto the marble floor. CRACK. The sound echoed through the silent hall. The locket, my mother’s locket, shattered into a dozen pieces. I froze. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. All I could hear was the sound of my own heart breaking. Nate’s voice boomed. “The locket! The locket! You act like a lunatic over a stupid piece of jewelry! Let’s see how crazy you get now that it’s gone!” He was right. I was going to lose my mind. “You animal!” I screamed, flying at him, my fists pounding against his chest. “You give me back the only thing I had left of my mother!” Stella, the picture of false concern, chimed in. “Sister, our husband is angry. You need to calm down and behave yourself so he’ll forgive you. You know, there’s an old custom where we’re from. The first time an elder woman meets a new child, she has to let the child… well, christen her. It’s a sign of unconditional love. Why don’t you kneel down, sister? Let our baby bless you. It’s our husband’s daughter, after all. If you do it, he won’t be angry anymore. Please, sister, just kneel.” A feral scream tore from my throat. I spun on her, my palm connecting with her cheek in a vicious slap. “You bitch! You’re just begging for it, aren’t you? Fine! I’ll give you what you want!” I attacked her, a whirlwind of grief and fury. The commotion drew a crowd of guests. Nate, his face burning with rage, tore me off her and struck me hard across the face. “You dare make a scene here? I’ll show you what happens!” His parents rushed over. “You crazy woman!” his mother shrieked. “Do you have any idea where you are? You are a disgrace to the Peterson name!” His father chimed in, his voice cold with disgust. “Get security in here and drag her out! What a curse. People like her should be locked away on an island for life!” Stella, helped to her feet, put on her most benevolent face. “I think she came here today just to cause trouble. Even if we throw her out, she’ll only find another way back in. She’s so… wild. Like a rabid dog. It’s frightening. Perhaps we should lock her in the dog cage in the basement until the party is over? For everyone’s safety.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Nate gave the order. “Security! Take her to the basement and lock her in the cage. Don’t let her out until I say so!” Two large bodyguards seized me, their grips like iron. As they began to drag me away, I fought with every ounce of strength I had left. And then, through the haze of my despair, I heard a voice that made my heart leap with hope. A voice like thunder. “Who dares lock my wife in a dog cage? I’ll see them dead!”

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My cool, impossibly reserved husband has been acting strange lately. He insists on going out in a full disguise—hoodie, sunglasses, the whole nine yards. The moment the doorbell rings, he dives into the nearest closet. And I catch him, day after day, staring at the ring on my finger with a look of pure, grinding agony. Then one day, I stumbled upon an encrypted memo on his phone: “Woke up and I’ve time-traveled from eighteen to twenty-eight.” “Good news: I actually ended up with the girl I’ve been secretly in love with for years.” “Bad news: There are no wedding photos in the house, I’m not wearing a wedding ring, and the suits in the closet aren’t my size.” “…I’m screwed. I’m the other man.” Me: ? 1 The day after we moved into our new home, my husband, Liam, was in a horrific car accident. He spent a day and a night unconscious in the hospital. The doctors said that apart from losing the last ten years of his memory, all his vitals were perfectly normal. But I had a growing suspicion that it wasn’t just his memory that was gone. The man who came home with me was a stranger in more ways than one. His behavior was… bizarre. Take right now, for instance. It’s been three hours since we got back from the hospital, and Liam hasn’t stopped moving. He’s been pacing the house relentlessly, his eyes darting everywhere. First, he examined the freshly painted walls with the intensity of a crime scene investigator. Then, he pulled an old suit from the back of the wardrobe—the one he wore to his college graduation—and held it against himself over and over again, a frown deepening on his face. Finally, his gaze fell on his left hand. He squeezed his bare ring finger, where a faint, pale band of skin marked the spot a ring had occupied for years. It had been lost in the crash. When he finished his inspection, all the strength seemed to drain out of him. He collapsed onto the sofa, his face a ghostly white. “Nina,” he said, his voice trembling. I looked over, and his eyes flickered to the ring on my own hand before he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “How long… have we been like this?” I followed his gaze to my ring, and a warm blush crept up my neck. “Two years.” It was a strange and wonderful story, really. In high school, we were bitter rivals, fighting tooth and nail to be top of the class. But a chance reunion in a new city during college transformed our animosity into a surprising, fierce friendship. After graduation, we became an unbeatable team at work, a perfect partnership in every sense. It was like we just clicked. And just like that, a decade had flown by. The two people everyone at school swore would kill each other before they’d ever date were now two years into a marriage so perfect, so in sync—from the boardroom to the bedroom—it felt like we were made for each other. 2 I was still lost in the warm, fuzzy memories of my favorite enemy-turned-lover story when Liam’s voice shattered the quiet. “T-Two years?!” He clutched his chest as if he’d been shot, his voice ragged with hysteria. “Two years… and I’m still not the official one?” His outburst startled me. “Liam, what are you yelling about? The ‘official one’? What are you trying to be the official one of?” He stared at me for a moment, a look of profound sorrow in his eyes. He slowly tightened his grip on the teacup in his hand. “So… you’re the one who won’t let go of him.” I frowned, completely bewildered, my gaze dropping to the cup. And then it clicked. “That’s right,” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. “I won’t let you.” He’s always under so much pressure at work, and insomnia is his constant companion. So, I have a strict no-caffeine-after-noon rule for him. I was glad he remembered that little detail, even if nothing else. He, however, did not look glad at all. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he stared at me like a tragic lover, used and then cruelly cast aside, every strand of his hair radiating betrayal. “Nina,” he choked out, “I never thought… I never thought this is what we’d become.” I couldn’t help but smile shyly. “I never thought so either. It just goes to show you, fate is a funny thing.” “…Fate?” Liam’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “Is this fate? This? This is… this is an outrage, it’s—” He broke off, turning away to rub furiously at the corner of his eye. A flicker of disappointment went through me; for a second, I thought he was about to say something sweet. But then again, this was Liam. He was an unshakeable ice king in high school, and his career as a ruthless CEO had only made him more concise. Which is why, for the past two years, my favorite pastime was coaxing dirty talk out of him in bed. I lived for the sight of that blush creeping up his neck as he lost himself to me, his composure shattering. And if I really put in the effort… I could wring a few low, desperate gasps from between those clenched teeth. 3 The memory sent a jolt of heat through me. I patted my flushed cheeks and quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, Liam, are you hungry? I’ll go see what we have for dinner.” Liam let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes following me as I walked to the kitchen. He seemed to have reached some sort of terrible resolution. “Nina,” he began, his voice heavy. “I don’t know what’s happened between then and now, or why I’m… like this. Maybe you have some kind of leverage over me, I don’t know.” “But I will not allow myself to be this person. I can’t do these… shady, underhanded things. I’m not cut out for the drama, the jealousy, the backstabbing.” “I have to cut this toxic tie, now. I have to end this chaotic mess—especially this relationship, which is a violation of the law, of morality, of every principle I hold dear.” “I’m telling you right now, I would rather die than be a—” I pulled open the refrigerator door and waved a container at him. “Dinner is pizza and the chicken soup my mom sent over. Sound good, honey?” The word hung in the air. Liam’s expression of tortured indignation vanished. He blinked, his eyes wide, as if savoring the sound. Three long seconds passed. A dark blush crept up to the tips of his ears. “O-Okay,” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. For the next half hour, Liam stood as still as a statue, a storm of conflicting emotions warring on his face. He looked utterly defeated. The white bandage on his forehead only added to the tragic, broken-beauty effect. The accident hadn’t marred his handsome features in the slightest. If anything, it had softened the sharp, ruthless edge he’d honed over years in the corporate world, making him seem younger, more vulnerable. “Nina, I have to be clear,” he started again, his brow furrowed with grim determination. “I can’t—I won’t—engage in any more of this clandestine…” His voice was cut short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. Ding-dong. The pizza had arrived, right on time. At my side, Liam went rigid, instantly on high alert. He fumbled for the remote and clicked off the TV, his eyes wide with panic as he looked at me. I bit my lip, remembering the doctor’s warning. Post-accident, Liam might be sensitive to sudden, loud noises. Doorbells, car horns, anything startling. I reached out and gently stroked his jaw, my voice soft. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. You just stay here, you don’t have to go to the door.” His shoulders trembled slightly at my touch. He flinched away, his lips pressed into a thin, white line, but he didn’t say anything. I paid for the pizza and signed for a package that had also arrived, then walked back into the living room. But when I stepped inside, Liam was gone. The only evidence he’d been there was the deep impression his body had left on the sofa cushion and the faint, clean scent of cedarwood that hung in the air. If not for those traces, I would have thought I’d imagined him entirely. I scanned the empty room, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach. “Liam?” Silence. I thought for a moment, then headed upstairs. The bedroom was dark, with no sign of him. I flipped on the light. My eyes were immediately drawn to the wardrobe. A familiar sliver of fabric was caught in the door, trembling faintly. 4 I rushed over and threw open the closet doors. And there he was, huddled behind a row of my dresses. Liam, all six-foot-two of him, was crammed into the tiny space, the hem of my skirt clenched between his teeth. His face was pale, his jaw trembling. I was stunned. “Liam! What in the world are you doing in there?” His head shot up. The first thing he did was peer cautiously past my shoulder. “Is… is he gone?” he whispered. I glanced back. The delivery guy’s car was already pulling out of the driveway. “Yeah, he’s gone.” Liam’s eyes lit up for a second, then immediately dimmed. “He… he didn’t stay?” “Stay for what? He has other deliveries to make. Come on, get out of there. He’s long gone.” Liam’s tense shoulders finally relaxed, and he let out a huge sigh of relief. He hesitated, then added, his tone sly and conspiratorial, “…You know, a workaholic like that, someone who only thinks about their job… they must be incredibly boring. It must be exhausting, being with a person like that. But, just saying, I’m not that kind of workaholic…” I nodded along. “You’re right. That’s why I like you so much better.” A small, smug smile touched his lips, and he lifted his chin with a hint of pride. But just as quickly, his expression froze. The light in his eyes vanished, replaced by a look of self-loathing. He muttered something under his breath, then scrambled out of the closet and hurried past me, storming downstairs without another word. 5 After dinner, I suggested a walk in the park. Liam’s knuckles went white as he gripped his spoon. “There will be too many people at the park. What if someone sees us…?” I knew he’d been anxious around people since the accident, so I nodded understandingly. “You have a point. Okay, then let’s just go to the supermarket to pick up some essentials. It should be pretty empty this time of night.” Liam’s lashes fluttered down, and he didn’t refuse this time. “…Nina, have we… always been like this? For the past two years?” “We have.” His back went ramrod straight. “Will you… will you divorce him?” he asked, his voice strained. I was taken aback. “Divorce? Why would I get a divorce? I don’t ever want a divorce.” CRACK. The fork in his hand snapped in two. “You really want to keep going on like this?” he demanded, his voice dangerously low. I nodded firmly. “Of course.” Liam shot to his feet, the sound of his teeth grinding together filling the silence. “Nina, how could you… How can you—?” He choked on the words, a look of pure despair on his face, then spun around. “I’m done eating.” I blinked. “Hey, Liam, aren’t you coming to the supermarket with me?” His retreating figure looked fragile, on the verge of collapse. He gave no sign that he’d heard me as he mounted the stairs, not even a backward glance. I huffed in annoyance, deliberately pitching my voice to carry. “Fine, be that way! I’ll just ask someone else. See how you like being replaced!” At the top of the stairs, Liam’s footsteps faltered. 6 Ten minutes later, I came downstairs in a more comfortable outfit, only to find Liam standing rigidly by the door. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, bundled up as if preparing for a blizzard. I walked over and tugged his mask down. “Liam, aren’t you hot in that? Besides, the doctor said you need fresh air.” He glanced nervously out the window at the people walking by, then pulled a pair of enormous sunglasses from his bag—the kind that covers half your face. I put my hand over his, utterly baffled. “Liam, you’ll look ridiculous wearing those in a supermarket.” He paused for a second, then produced a black baseball cap. Me: ? His bizarre behavior was starting to give me the distinct impression that we were about to go rob the place. I rubbed my temples, trying to stave off a headache. “Liam, we are just going to the supermarket to buy toilet paper and milk. We are not planning a heist…” His eyes widened in horror. He clapped a hand over my mouth, his voice a frantic whisper. “Keep your voice down! Is that something to be proud of?” Me: ? Just as I was about to argue, my phone buzzed with a message from my best friend, whose profile picture was, as always, some new pop star. “Babe, I’m so sorry, I’m stuck at the office. I have to go out of town for work tomorrow, so I can’t make it shopping tonight.” 7 I let go of Liam to type out a quick reply. 【No worries!】 The second I hit send, Liam’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, cut through the air above me. “So busy that you can’t even spare twenty minutes for a trip to the supermarket…” “Wow. Must be making, what, a billion dollars a month at that job?” I shot him a sideways glance, about to defend my friend, but he barrelled on, his tone one of mock surprise. “What? It’s not a billion? You mean you’re that busy for a measly three thousand a month?” “Sigh. Well, Nina, don’t overthink it.” “What could it possibly mean? I mean, not having time to go to the store with you can only mean that you’re not a priority. That’s all. Nothing more to it.” “It’s not like there’s someone else, of course. That would be impossible…” “Nina, whatever you do… don’t… overthink… it…” He bit down on the last few words, his voice heavy with insinuation. A vein throbbed in my temple. I jabbed him with my elbow. “What is all this nonsense? I know her, I understand her, and she would never do that. Stop talking trash about my friend. We were supposed to meet tonight, and I was going to go with her on her business trip for a week…” The smug look on Liam’s face instantly dissolved. It was as if all his strength, all his clever manipulations, had evaporated in an instant. He staggered back a few steps, looking like a lost dog that had just been kicked by its owner, and curled in on himself, a tremor running through his body. 8 I knew immediately that something was wrong. I dropped my phone and rushed to his side. “Liam? What is it? Are you not feeling well?” He didn’t speak, just clutched his chest and sank onto the sofa. Panicked, I started to get up to call his doctor. But he shot out a hand and grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “Yes,” he gasped. I was completely lost. “Yes, what?” Liam tilted his head back to look at me, a fragile, crimson blush blooming at the corners of his eyes. His lips parted, stopping a mere inch from mine. “I… I don’t feel well, Nina. I feel really, really awful…” I studied the bandage on his forehead, my heart pounding with worry. “Is it your head? Or somewhere else?” He squeezed my hand tighter, his voice trembling. “Just… listen. Can you feel how fast my heart is beating…?” “…?” For a second, I was sure I’d misheard him. 9 Liam said his heart was racing. And as he said it, he leaned into me, a picture of delicate fragility, resting his head in the crook of my neck. “Just hold me,” he murmured. “If you hold me, it’ll stop…” I froze, my body rigid. I’d seen him ruthlessly tear apart opponents in the boardroom without breaking a sweat. I’d seen him lose control, his eyes blazing as he pinned me against a wall. But I had never, ever seen this Liam. For a moment, I had no idea what to do. My hands hovered awkwardly in the air. But I couldn’t bring myself to push him away. “Nina, if you leave me alone tonight… I think I’ll just die of a broken heart. I really will…” Liam looked up, and a single, perfect teardrop clung to his lashes, shimmering like a shattered diamond in the soft light. “So, Nina, are you really going to leave me for her…? Are you going to watch me die? Do you have the heart? Can you really stand by and watch me die?” Looking at his tear-streaked, pitiful face, I felt my heart clench into a tight knot. I wanted to swear an oath to the heavens. “No, no, I won’t! I won’t leave you! I promise, I’ll stay with you all night. Even if she gets mad at me, I’m staying here with you tonight.” …Sorry, bestie. My priorities were embarrassingly clear.

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Three months before my wedding, the world came crashing down. My fiancé, Mike, posted a picture on his Instagram. It wasn’t of us. It was his marriage certificate, side-by-side with a photo of my stepsister, Della, cradling her pregnant belly. His caption read: Legally welcoming our little one into the world. Della commented with a single shy-face emoji. My own mother liked the post. Then she commented, I’ll watch the baby for you. You two just enjoy your time together. I couldn’t help myself. I typed a single question mark. A second later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Mike. His voice, once a comfort, was a torrent of accusations. “She’s just ‘borrowing’ me for a year, Clara! The baby will be born, and then I’m all yours again.” “Don’t be so petty,” he continued, his tone sharp. “My mom agrees. She always said you should have a son before we make it official anyway. This works out perfectly. We have the wedding first, and you get your certificate later. It’s fine.” A cold numbness spread through me. “Okay,” I whispered, then hung up. I methodically went through my social media, deleting every trace of him, every happy memory now tainted. Then, I posted something new. Need a groom. Any takers? 1 Mike was the first to reply. Mike: Are you out of your goddamn mind, Clara? I marry her for a technicality, and you pull this stunt? Did you really think a pathetic post like this would make me jealous? That’s hilarious. I’m warning you, stop making trouble, and leave Della out of it. Della’s comment appeared right below his. Della: Sis, Mike just wants our baby to have a proper name. I’m not trying to steal him. When you and he get married, my child can even call you Mom. Then came my mother. Mom: You’re being so ungrateful. You get a child without the pain of childbirth, and Della is making it happen for you. The least you could do is thank her. A flood of comments from Mike’s buddies followed, each one a jab to the ribs. You and Della are sisters, right? Doesn’t matter who Mike marries, it’s all in the family! How about Della gets him Mon-Weds-Fri, and you get Tues-Thurs-Sat? They all thought it was a riot, their laughing emojis mocking my pain. I stared at the screen for a long time, a bitter, acidic feeling rising in my throat until it stung my eyes. Tears I couldn’t hold back began to fall, splattering onto my phone. They were the ones in the wrong. And yet, here they were, shamelessly blaming me. How pathetic. These people weren’t worth a single one of my tears. I wiped my eyes fiercely. Amidst the chaos of the comment section, one stood out, a calm island in a sea of insanity. It was from Liam. Can I be your groom? Liam and I grew up together. After college, I’d stayed in the city while he went abroad for his master’s. The day I started dating Mike, Liam had respectfully distanced himself. It had been years since we’d really talked. As I was still processing his comment, my phone rang. It was him. “Clara,” his voice was steady, warm. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “You know I’ve never liked your stepsister, so there will be no drama there. I don’t have a messy circle of friends, and I’ve spent the last few years building my career. There are no ex-girlfriends in the picture.” A notification popped up on my screen. A legal document. I opened it. It was a contract, transferring all his assets and company shares into my name. My breath hitched. “Clara,” he said, and for the first time, I heard a tremor of vulnerability in his voice. “This is my entire commitment. It’s all I have to offer. Will you give me a chance?” A familiar ache settled in my chest. I remembered us as kids. Our teacher had given him two pieces of his favorite candy as a reward. He had looked at them, his mouth watering, but he hadn’t eaten a single one. He’d saved both for me. He had always given me everything. My voice was thick with emotion. “Yes.” Love had proven to be a ghost, a phantom I’d chased only to be left wounded and bleeding. I had been ready to give up, to accept that I would be alone. But my grandmother’s dying wish was to see me married, to know there was someone in the world who would have my back. Mike was not that man. But Liam… if my groom was Liam, I knew my grandmother would rest easy. His voice bloomed with pure joy. “I’ll wrap things up here. I’ll be back to marry you in two weeks.” He paused, his tone turning almost pleading. “Clara, you’ll wait for me, won’t you? You won’t change your mind?” That hint of childlike vulnerability reminded me of the time I’d promised to be his bride when we grew up. “I will,” I promised, a sudden urge to cry washing over me—not from sadness, but from a profound sense of relief. “Liam,” I whispered, “pinky swear.” 2 After the call, my bedroom door swung open. It was my mother. “Where is that sapphire necklace your father left you?” I remained silent. Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s with the attitude? Your sister thinks it’s pretty and wants to wear it for a few days. Just get it. Don’t be so childish!” Della clung to our mother’s arm, her face a mask of disappointment. “It’s okay, Mom. I know she’s never really seen me as a sister. If she doesn’t want to, I won’t force her.” “She wouldn’t dare!” my mother snapped, turning her glare on me. “That necklace belonged to my husband—your father. As of today, it’s yours, Della.” She looked back at me, her voice hard as steel. “If you don’t hand it over, don’t blame me for having your room searched.” I stared at her, a bitter smile twisting my lips. It felt more like a grimace. The gentle, loving mother from my memories had vanished, replaced by this harsh, scolding stranger. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was leaving this place for good. There was no point in another meaningless fight. Wordlessly, I retrieved the velvet box, opened it, and handed her the necklace. A satisfied smile spread across her face. “That’s my girl. Della is your little sister. You should always give her the best of everything.” After Mom left, Della fastened the sapphire clasp around her neck, admiring her reflection in my vanity mirror. “Don’t blame Mom for favoring me, sis. Honestly, this necklace looks much better on me anyway.” She smirked. “Just like Mike looks better as my boyfriend.” Her eyes met mine in the reflection. “Some things are just meant to be mine. No one else can ever have them.” I said nothing, watching her pathetic victory dance. With people like her, any reaction was fuel for the fire. Indifference was the only weapon. I grabbed my purse, walked past her as if she were thin air, and headed for the stairs. “Ah! Sis, why did you push me—” Della suddenly lurched in front of me, feigning a push and stumbling backward toward the top of the staircase. As much as I loathed her, my instincts kicked in. I reached out to grab her arm. It was a twenty-step drop; this was no joke. “Clara, you venomous bitch!” A hand slapped mine away from Della’s arm with brutal force. My hand slammed against the wooden banister with a sickening crack. A wave of white-hot pain shot up my arm, and I broke out in a cold sweat. “Mike, you came just in time! I was so scared, I…” Della sobbed, burying herself in Mike’s arms, her face a mess of tears and fabricated terror. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now,” Mike murmured, stroking her hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” I looked down at my hand, already swelling and turning a bruised, angry purple. Then I looked at Della, who hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch, being held and comforted as if she were made of glass. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. The boy who had once promised to cherish me forever, the man I was supposed to marry in three short months… how had his heart turned so cold, so fast? 3 Once Della was calm, Mike’s gaze, dark and menacing, fell on me. “I know you’re upset that I married her and we’re having a baby behind your back. You can take it out on me, I get it. I should have told you.” He took a step closer. “But you do not get to hurt Della. Her health is fragile. She’s been through enough.” His voice rose with indignation. “All she did was ask me for a chance to be a mother. Is that so wrong? Why should she have to suffer your anger?” He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You are going to apologize to her. Right now.” My whole body trembled with a rage I could barely contain. “And what did I do wrong?” I hissed. “Tell me, Mike, what exactly did I do wrong?” He stared into my blazing eyes and faltered for a second. “It’s okay, Mike, really,” Della sniffled from the safety of his arms. “Even though I almost fell to my death… I don’t blame my sister. I don’t need an apology.” She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “You and Clara still have to get married. I don’t want you fighting because of me.” Mike sighed, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Della, you’re too good. It’s heartbreaking sometimes.” He turned back to me, his eyes cold again. “You’re just jealous of her. You can’t stand to see her happy.” He paused. “Fine. Della is speaking up for you, so if you don’t want to apologize, you don’t have to. But if you ever try to hurt her again, I swear, I won’t be so lenient.” He scooped Della into his arms and, just before leaving, shot me one last look of utter disappointment. “You can’t even compare to your sister.” The silence of the living room pressed in on me. I watched the dead leaves drift past the window, then sank to the floor, buried my face in my hands, and finally let myself sob. One last time. This was the last time I would ever cry for Mike. That afternoon, he posted again. A nine-photo grid of our future home, the one we had picked out together. Each picture showed a different corner, a different room. The caption read: Every room, every piece of furniture, every little detail, all chosen with love to give my baby a warm and happy home. The comments poured in. Congrats, Mike! A baby on the way! So you and Clara are having a baby! Wonderful news! Clara is so lucky to have a husband like you! I’m so jealous! I wouldn’t miss your wedding in three months for a billion-dollar deal! As the congratulations flowed, Della dropped a bomb in the comments. Oh, everyone, don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t Mike’s marital home. It’s my house. An awkward silence fell over the comment section. I was the one to break it. Three’s a crowd. I’m out. Wishing you two happiness. Then, without a second thought, I blocked both of them. My phone rang almost immediately. It was Mike. “Clara, have you lost your mind?” “I’m perfectly sane,” I said, my voice flat. “That comment you left—you’re deliberately trying to make Della look bad,” he seethed. “You just had to paint her as a homewrecker, didn’t you? Is that what makes you happy? Keep slandering her, and this wedding is off!” His cruel words washed over me, but I felt nothing. The part of me that cared was already dead. “Mike,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “What on earth makes you think I’d still want your sloppy seconds?” 4 I hung up. The phrase “sloppy seconds” must have struck a nerve. He called again, and again, and again. When I didn’t answer, he bombarded me with texts. I ignored them all. In ten days, I was going to marry Liam. These people were about to become ghosts from a past life. I had intended to spend my remaining time here in peace, but Della shattered that illusion when she smashed my father’s urn. His ashes spilled across the floor. She felt no remorse. Instead, she let her cat urinate on them. Then she looked at me, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Look, sis. Your dad makes great kitty litter!” In that instant, every ounce of grief and suppressed rage inside me exploded. I grabbed the baseball bat from behind the door and swung it at her with all my might. It connected with a solid thud. She shrieked, her face turning sheet-white as she scrambled away. “Clara! Have you completely lost it? How dare you hit your sister!” My mother’s voice was Della’s salvation. She scurried behind her, hiding like a frightened child. “Mom, I’m scared,” she sobbed. “She’s trying to kill me!” My mother shielded Della like a hen protecting her chick, her fury directed entirely at me. “I’ve let your bullying slide, thinking it was just petty squabbles, but this is too much!” She was my mother, yet she always stood against me, defending a girl with no blood relation to her. There was no greater sorrow. Tears blurred my vision. “She broke Dad’s urn!” I screamed, my voice raw. “That was Dad! My dad! Why? Why?” Why, after I had already yielded so much, did they have to destroy the one tangible memory I had left of him? Why did my own mother not love me? Della dropped to her knees dramatically. “Mom, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear! If Clara can’t forgive me, then… then I might as well just die!” she wailed. “Della, you stop this—” SMACK! My mother’s hand cracked across my face before I could finish my sentence. “Enough!” she shrieked. “It’s just ashes! He’s already dead. Is a pile of ash more important than a living person?” Her final words hung in the air, cold and sharp. “If you bother Della again, you can get out.”

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I grew up showered with endless affection. My parents deliberately adopted three girls to raise alongside me, intending for me to choose one of them to marry when I came of age. But they treated me with cold indifference, while showering our family driver’s son, Marcus Greene, with warmth and enthusiasm. Until one incident changed everything. Marcus and I were both kidnapped. Fiona Carter led the charge in abandoning me to save Marcus instead. She said, “You were born with a silver spoon. Someone will avenge you. You don’t need us.” Her words cut through me like a knife, and I suddenly realized just how wrong I’d been all these years. After I recovered from my injuries, I went to my father with a decision. “Dad, I’ve decided to marry Vivian White.” “But her face was damaged in the accident. Are you sure you’re not joking?” Hearing Dad’s question, I simply smiled calmly. “I’m not joking.” “I just suddenly realized that I care for her.” “And she’s the one I should marry.” Seeing my determination, Dad let out a gentle sigh. “As long as you’re happy, we support you.” “I thought you were so attached to Fiona and the others that you’d choose one of them.” When Dad mentioned Fiona and the others, a dull pain struck my chest. I couldn’t help but recall the kidnapping from a few days ago—how coldly they abandoned me without a second thought, then blamed me for wandering off with Marcus. Perhaps I should have realized it earlier. Fiona and the others had always favored Marcus. From the moment they first arrived at our home, they always had. Thinking of this, I swallowed the bitterness and nodded. After Dad and Vivian’s family expressed their support for my decision, I left my parents’ house and drove back to my suburban villa. But as soon as I pulled up to the front door, deafening music from inside made me frown. I pushed open the door to find my tasteful decor transformed into a tacky party scene. And the culprits were obviously Fiona, Rachel, and Claire, all surrounding Marcus in the center. “Damien, you’re back.” The sudden voice made Fiona turn her gaze toward me, her eyes full of disgust. “You dare show your face here.” I opened my mouth to speak, but Rachel, standing beside her, cut me off with a cold snort. “Why wouldn’t he dare? Damien’s rich. How could we compare?” “Who knows what he’s been telling Mr. White about how we abandoned him!” Even Claire, who usually stayed quiet, nodded in agreement. The three of them united against me made me bristle with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “This is my house. Why wouldn’t I come back?” “Besides, I don’t have the time to complain to my father.” Of course, I was also afraid that Dad would get angry enough to damage his health. But my explanation only made them think I was hiding my guilt. “Who knows if you’re telling the truth!” “But now that you’re back, hurry up and apologize to Marcus.” “I didn’t have time to deal with you that day! If you hadn’t dragged Marcus out, how would he have gotten kidnapped?” Rachel spoke first, with the other two nodding in agreement. But Marcus had been the one who asked me to go out that day. How did it become my idea? I tried to defend myself. “That day, Marcus was the one who—” Before I could finish, Marcus, who’d been playing invisible until now, dropped to his knees with a thud, tears flowing instantly. “Damien! Please don’t blame Fiona and the others. They’re just worried about me.” “It’s all my fault. I was the one who asked you to go out that day. It’s all my fault, boo hoo…” His words immediately filled their eyes with sympathy, while their gazes toward me grew colder. “Damien, if you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop targeting Marcus behind everyone’s back!” “I’m ordering you to apologize right now! Otherwise, none of us will forgive you!” Fiona glared at me coldly as she issued her ultimatum. I felt my breath catch, my mind flashing back to the humiliation they’d put me through on my coming-of-age ceremony. The banquet had been filled with important guests. Marcus was supposed to help me get dressed, but just before the event started, he came crying that he’d ruined my outfit. I lost my temper and yelled at him. Then he suddenly collapsed on the floor, tearing at his clothes frantically. “Damien, I’m sorry! Don’t do this to me!” Then Fiona and the others walked in. Without asking a single question, they forced me to apologize. They even brought me an ill-fitting outfit to wear, making me look like a complete fool. When Dad asked about it later, I said I’d suddenly wanted to wear it, afraid they’d get in trouble. Looking back now, I’d been such an idiot! But now? I wasn’t going to indulge them anymore. I raised my head, my eyes fierce as I looked at the three of them and refused loudly, “I won’t apologize!”

“You won’t apologize?” “That’s not your choice to make!” “Someone grab Damien!” Seeing my refusal, Fiona sneered and ordered the security guards nearby, “Hold him down!” The guards stepped forward and forcibly restrained me. I’d almost forgotten—these past few years, I’d shown such dependence on the three of them that everyone secretly believed the White family fortune would belong to them. They’d long since stopped respecting me. A chill ran through my heart as I looked at the three of them with increasingly cold eyes. “What’s with that look? Apologize!” “Listen, Damien, don’t think we won’t do anything just because you’re a White.” “You’re going to need the three of us in the future!” Rachel shot me a glance and spoke mockingly. She looked absolutely disgusting. Who the hell made them think this way? I couldn’t understand it. I tried to struggle free, but the grip on me only tightened. They didn’t release me until I was forced to bow my head to Marcus in apology. “Today’s just a little punishment.” “Behave yourself, or you’ll regret it!” After issuing their threat, Fiona and the others left with Marcus, surrounding him like he was royalty. I collapsed on the floor, watching clearly as Marcus shot me a provocative look. I clenched my fists in rage. Just then, my phone rang. It was Vivian calling. I answered, forcing myself to calm down. “What is it?” “Nothing much. Just reminding you not to forget to select the wedding venue and pick out your suit.” Her low voice sounded in my ear, making me momentarily dazed. By the time I snapped back to reality, she’d already hung up. That woman was quick! I had no choice but to pick myself up, quickly clean up, and head out. I went to redesign the wedding venue I’d originally prepared for the three of them. I just didn’t expect them to be shameless enough to rush over after being notified.

“Damien, you’re really shameless! That desperate to get married? We just punished you and you’re already here setting up the venue!” Rachel looked at me with disgust. The others wore matching expressions. I tried to be patient and explain, but before I could open my mouth, Fiona ordered the security guards who’d followed them to tear everything down. “Throw out all these disgusting flowers!” “Replace everything with white roses—Marcus’s favorite.” “Damien, even if you get married, the wedding has to be what Marcus likes. You owe him this.” As her words fell, the flower arch I’d just had set up was kicked over. I couldn’t react in time, still trying to figure out what I supposedly owed Marcus. “Fiona! I’m not marrying any of you three. You have no right to destroy my venue!” “Not us three? That’s hilarious. Everyone in our circle knows how obsessed you are with us!” “Obviously it’s—” Before I could finish, a loud crash came from behind me. I turned to see the guards had already smashed the area where I planned to display our wedding photos. Others followed suit, destroying other parts of the venue. In the blink of an eye, half the wedding venue was ruined. “Stop! What right do you have to destroy my wedding venue? Who gave you permission!” “Stop right now!” But they ignored me, their actions not slowing at all. I shouted until my voice was hoarse, but couldn’t stop them. I watched helplessly as my carefully arranged venue turned into a complete mess. And the perpetrators stood before me, nodding with satisfaction. “Much better! Good riddance to all that eyesore.” “Let’s go! We still need to take Marcus to the bakery!” Rachel smirked and left with the group. Leaving me standing there alone. It took me a while to collect myself and stand up. I didn’t have time to settle scores with them. Right now, the most important thing was to redesign the wedding venue and select the suits. Nothing else mattered. As for those three, I’d already made a mental note of everything. Once the dust settled, I’d make them pay. By the time I finished redesigning the wedding venue, two days had passed. My wedding with Vivian was drawing closer. I couldn’t control my excitement, and even wore a smile I hadn’t had in days when I went out to try on suits. But when I arrived, I found Fiona, Rachel, Claire, and Marcus already there. The four of them acted as if I didn’t exist, intimately clinging to each other. And Marcus was wearing my carefully selected custom suit—the one my father had given me as a coming-of-age gift. Italian handmade, priceless. Fiona, standing at the edge, noticed me first and scolded impatiently. “What are you doing here? Did you have someone tip you off again?” “You really can’t live without us, can you? And you say you’re not trying to marry us—this suit is the one we all picked out together back then!” “Marcus wants to take photos with us and doesn’t have a proper suit, so we’re letting him borrow yours.” “Consider it a chance to make amends.” She stopped paying attention to me and joined Rachel and Claire in complimenting Marcus. Every word implicitly belittling me. “Our Marcus looks so good in it. So much better than certain people with evil hearts!” “Such a shame. If we didn’t have to have someone get married, I’d want the four of us to stay together forever.” Rachel couldn’t help but sigh, prompting Marcus to comfort them. “It’s okay, Rachel. No matter who marries whom, the four of us will always be family.” I trembled with rage and said through gritted teeth, “You like Marcus so much that you’ll steal people’s clothes for him to wear?” “Fine! I’ll make sure people see just how shameless you are!” I raised my phone to photograph them. Seeing this, Fiona furiously ordered people to drag me away. “She’s crazy, the crazy woman! Get her out of here!” Then I was thrown outside, forced to watch helplessly as my precious suit stayed on Marcus’s body. And I was powerless to stop it.

I stood outside the boutique for a full hour, watching them take group photos with Marcus in formal wear. Then they did a painting-themed photoshoot, getting paint all over the suit. With each stain, I regretted my past blindness more and more. After they finished, they threw the ruined suit at me. “Pick another one yourself. Oh, and the photos will feature the four of us.” Rachel said provocatively in my ear. But I couldn’t hear anything. My mind kept repeating one sentence. The suit was ruined. I returned to my parents’ house in a daze and lay down, unable to hold back my tears. Knock knock. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Mom holding a box, looking mysteriously pleased as she handed it to me. “What’s this?” “Open it and see.” Following Mom’s suggestion, I opened the box to find a suit. Mom smiled beside me. “You don’t know—Vivian had someone deliver this. She’s so thoughtful.” “And she designed it herself!” Hearing this, my heart started pounding. I suddenly felt that my decision to marry her was the right one. I took out the suit and tried it on. It fit perfectly. I could even imagine what Vivian and I would look like standing together. This woman… she was pretty good. I smiled and sent her a selfie. Soon I received her reply. After that, to avoid running into Fiona and the others, I stayed home until right before the wedding. Soon, the wedding day arrived. On the wedding day, the White family arranged a grand motorcade parade, and multiple city landmarks displayed live broadcasts of the ceremony. It showed how much Vivian valued me. At ten in the morning, I slowly walked up to the ceremony platform, nervously waiting for Vivian’s arrival. Meanwhile, Fiona and the others were drinking at a private club with Marcus, watching the broadcast with cold smiles. “I want to see where he finds a bride to marry without us three.” “Exactly. He needs to be taught a lesson. When we say we were busy, he’ll still protect us. No need to worry about Mr. White getting angry.” Rachel clinked glasses with her companions after speaking. And on the big screen, I had already slowly walked onto the wedding platform. My heart was full of anticipation as I waited for Vivian’s arrival. “Fiona, is this really okay?” Marcus held his wine glass, blinking as he spoke, secretly delighting inside. The others felt a bit uneasy but still pretended nothing was wrong. When the time came, Fiona stood up first, only to find Rachel, usually the loudest, frozen in place. “What’s wrong, Rachel?” Fiona asked. “Fiona, I think Damien was telling the truth. The bride isn’t one of us…” Fiona looked up at the big screen. When she saw the figure walking toward me, she froze. “Vivian White!”

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I’m a mob boss, and I’m gay. My sister abandoned my brother-in-law and ran away from home. To sleep with my brother-in-law, I’ve been playing the part of an ordinary auto mechanic in front of him. After six years of this act, I finally ran out of patience. I tied my brother-in-law to the bed: “Mr. Pierce, have you ever tried being with a man?” “I have.” The phone on the nightstand wouldn’t stop vibrating. I bit down on my shirt collar, tilted my head back, let out a breath, then leaned down to kiss Pierce’s cheek before grabbing the phone. The caller ID showed “Faye.” Faye is my sister. She just returned to Harbor City recently. Pierce came home late today because he went to see her. I answered the call and used my pants to wipe the mess off Pierce’s legs, my voice hoarse: “Hello.” “Pierce?” “Not Pierce. It’s me, Felix.” “Let me talk to Pierce.” Pierce’s breathing was steady, his nostrils flaring slightly, same as always—completely unaware. The drug was imported. Worked like a charm. Once he drank it, he was out cold. No matter what I did to him, he wouldn’t wake up. I stared at the faint red marks on his chest, swallowed some ice water, and said: “He’s asleep. You can tell me whatever it is.” “Never mind then. I’ll call again tomorrow.” “Faye, why did you come back after leaving?” I gripped the phone tighter and knocked the glass against the coffee table, reminding Faye, “Stop looking for him. You handed him over to me.” Pierce liked Faye. But Faye liked women. Eight years ago, to appease our mother, Faye entered a fake marriage with Pierce. When Pierce married Faye, he had just graduated and only had nine thousand dollars to his name. He bought a diamond ring with it. The ring stayed on my sister’s finger for exactly one day before Pierce found it discarded in a bathroom corner. That ring was like Pierce’s heart—something Faye could throw away without a second thought. After our mother died, my sister wanted to leave Harbor City with her lover. I asked her: “What about Pierce when you’re gone?” My sister glanced at me sideways and smiled: “Don’t I still have you? You take good care of him for me.” Heh. Take care of him. I looked down at Pierce on the sofa, the faint flush still lingering on his body, his skin still gleaming with moisture. My throat itched. I bit my tongue lightly with my canines and chuckled. I’d taken care of him, all right. Every inch of him. Didn’t miss a spot. “Did you answer my call last night?” In the morning, Pierce emerged from the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth, scrolling through his phone. “Yeah, Faye called.” His shirt was unbuttoned, collar hanging open, revealing the outline of his pecs. Below that, I could see the red marks that hadn’t quite faded yet. I’d sucked those into his skin last night. They felt good under my lips. Pierce frowned and asked: “What did she say?” I grabbed his collar and buttoned him up from bottom to top, stopping at his chest to poke at one of those red marks. “What happened here? Bug bite?” Pierce glanced down, unconcerned. “Probably.” “Looks like someone kissed you.” I buttoned him all the way to the top, lightly pinching his neck, deliberately saying, “Pierce, you came home so late yesterday. Did you sleep with someone else?” Pierce looked at me. “Yeah, I did.” He pulled away from my hand, set down his phone to rinse his mouth, then turned back to see me still standing in the bathroom doorway. He put on his glasses, adjusted his cuffs, and asked very politely: “What? Waiting to hear the details?” Then he squinted and smiled, making it all up: “Six foot one, muscular, great pecs, narrow waist.” I clutched my stomach, laughing so hard I could die. He said it like it was real. I really wanted to tell him—I was the one who kissed him. I’d kissed every inch of his body. Pierce pushed past me to leave. I stood in front of the mirror for a long moment, puffing out my chest and squaring my shoulders. My pecs were pretty big too.

After breakfast, Pierce drove me to the auto shop before heading to work. Watching Pierce’s car disappear around the corner, I immediately turned and headed straight for the nightclub. Last night, someone had been dealing drugs in my establishment. Ajax, one of my enforcers, caught them and locked them on the top floor, waiting for me all night. I interrogated them for an hour and extracted a name from those two punks—Quincy Steele, the son of the current Crimson Brotherhood leader, Quinn Steele. Staying away from drugs was a rule passed down through the Crimson Brotherhood. After Quinn took over, he got greedy for drug profits and broke that rule. He once tried to drag me into it, but I refused. I stuck my knife right in front of Quinn: “Anything can come into the West District except drugs. If Mr. Steele wants to sell, I can’t stop you. But if you try to sell in my territory, better come with your neck washed clean.” The Steele father and son clearly didn’t take my words seriously. After crippling both hands of those two drug-dealing scumbags, I wiped the blood off my hands and headed downstairs, instructing Ajax: “Find out where Quincy’s stash is. Bury him with the drugs.” Ajax hesitated: “Felix, are we really going up against the boss?” “Someone’s already dancing on my forehead and you want me to pretend I don’t see it? Today Quincy can deal drugs in my place, tomorrow Quinn can stuff drugs down my throat. They sell drugs in my territory and pocket the cash—what am I, a saint?” Turning the corner, I caught sight of Pierce at the bar. He walked toward me. I instantly fell silent, my mind going blank, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest. I’d been playing the part of an honest, law-abiding mechanic in front of Pierce for six years. I never dared bring even a trace of blood home. First, I didn’t want Pierce to know too much. Life in this world is unpredictable. My life is cheap. If I die, I die. Pierce is different. Pierce is precious. Second, I made a vow to Pierce eight years ago. No knives, no fighting, no crime. I’d be a good, honest person and let him take care of me for the rest of my life. I’d lied to Pierce. I was afraid he wouldn’t stay with me forever. After Pierce got married, Faye almost never came home. Faye didn’t care about me, and she didn’t care about Pierce either. I dropped out of school at sixteen. At seventeen, Pierce took me in. He visited every high school in the city, compared them all, had drinks with people, and got me into a school with excellent teachers and a good atmosphere. The day it all worked out, Pierce got drunk and collapsed by the sofa, hugging me and rubbing my head, his chin resting on top of my head, saying: “Our little Felix is going to school now. Don’t be afraid. I’ll support you. You’ll get better and better, better and better.” I opened my mouth but didn’t tell him I didn’t want to go to school. I obediently drank my milk, obediently grew taller, obediently went to school. Then in corners where Pierce couldn’t see, I carried long knives and fought gang wars. Pierce found injuries on my body. Later, he caught me in an alley after a fight, covered in blood. Under Pierce’s scrutinizing gaze, half my body went numb. As clean as Pierce was in the sunlight, that’s how dirty I was in the shadows. I stiffened my neck and pieced myself together, bristling with defenses. I said: “You saw? I’m not what you thought. I’m not good at all.” “I didn’t want to go to school. You’re the one who made me go.” “If you think I’m too much trouble and don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave.” Pierce moved. He walked over, crouched down, and used the sleeve of his white shirt to wipe the blood off my face. “If you don’t want to go to school, don’t go. Even if you amount to nothing, I can still afford to keep you.” “I won’t abandon you. When I took you in, I was prepared to take care of you for the rest of your life.” He held my hand, gentle but firm, and took away my knife. “But Felix, I need you to promise me—no more knives, no more fighting, no more getting hurt, no more risking your life. Be good and let me take care of you, honestly and properly.” I made the promise, and Pierce believed me. He was almost stupidly righteous. Pierce and I are different. The worst thing that’s probably ever happened to him in his whole life was getting cheated on by my sister. But by the time I was fifteen, I’d already experienced all the suffering life had to offer. I clawed my way out of the mud, stained black through and through. No amount of washing could make me clean. Not even promises could change that. Sometimes I think, if Pierce had taken me in two years earlier, maybe I really could have been a good kid. Like he wanted. Go to school properly, get better and better. But that wasn’t possible. From the moment I picked up that steel pipe and crippled my father at sixteen, from the moment I joined the Crimson Brotherhood under Quinn, my world changed. In Harbor City, once you pick up a knife and join a gang, you can only climb higher. Either become the boss or die. There’s no leaving halfway.

Ajax said: “Felix, I think I see Pierce.” “…” Thanks. I’m not blind. Pierce seemed to be looking for someone. His wandering gaze suddenly landed on me, his brow furrowing as he squinted. I quickly snatched Ajax’s cap and pulled it down over my head, tugging the brim low. I’d just gotten covered in blood upstairs. The smell of blood on me was so strong it almost overpowered the mixed scents of the nightclub, rushing straight into my nostrils. Pierce absolutely couldn’t see me like this. Otherwise, the game would really be over. As Pierce passed by, I turned and lit a cigarette. The smoke blurred the space between us. For a moment, I saw Pierce reach his hand toward me. My heart raced, my pupils contracted. I hoped he wouldn’t recognize me, but I also hoped he could see through the smoke and grab hold of me. “Pierce.” That moment of connection was severed. Pierce lowered his hand and looked toward the voice. When he saw who called him, his eyes lit up, the corners of his mouth lifting in a subtle smile. That kind of smile—I’d seen it a thousand times, ten thousand times, eight years ago. A smile that belonged only to Faye. Pierce brushed past me, walking toward Faye. Whenever Faye was around, Pierce wasn’t my Pierce anymore. I crushed the burning cigarette into my palm, turned around, and watched them openly. Right now, I didn’t need to worry about Pierce recognizing me. When Faye appeared, Pierce couldn’t see anyone else. Over there, Pierce stood sideways, slightly bent at the waist, listening quietly and attentively to what Faye was saying. For Pierce to look back at me? I’d have to wait until the next life. But someone like me, when I die, I’m going to hell. Who knows if there’ll even be a next life. So, what was that saying? Some flowers need to be plucked when they bloom. I pointed at Pierce’s back and told Ajax: “You stay here and watch him. If he hasn’t left in ten minutes, tie him up and send him to Seaview Bay.” I took a few steps away, then turned back and said to Ajax: “Be careful. Don’t hurt him.” I leaned against my car and called Pierce. He didn’t answer the first time. The second call finally went through. I whined lazily: “Pierce, why aren’t you home? I’m starving.” It was noisy on his end: “I’ve got something to take care of. Grab something outside.” “Pierce, my stomach hurts. Can you come home early?” “Mm. Gotta go.” I stared at the darkened screen for a long time before shoving my phone into my pocket. I waited outside the nightclub for ten minutes. Pierce didn’t come out. I told him my stomach hurt, and he still didn’t come home. I knew I couldn’t compare to Faye, but I didn’t think the gap was this big. I was about to go crazy with jealousy.

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My childhood dream with Zachary was to become police officers. But later on. He became the head of New York’s largest criminal organization. And I became his most formidable lieutenant. The day we were both arrested and imprisoned. He rubbed his nose and said: “We’re even now. In our next life, let’s be brothers again.” But I lowered my eyes, calmly had the guard open my door, and said to him through the iron bars: “Sorry, but this is my badge number.” My identity—I’m an undercover cop. The day Zachary was sentenced, it drizzled. I sat at the courthouse entrance smoking, but the rain kept extinguishing my cigarette. I couldn’t get it lit. When they were led out, the organization’s former second-in-command spat at me. “Pah! Liam, you ungrateful bastard.” My hand holding the cigarette trembled as I looked at Zachary. He still showed no expression. Back then, I thought that would be the last time I’d ever see him. That this demon who’d taken countless lives would die by firing squad. And I would finally, completely end my years of undercover work. The next day. The precinct informed me. Zachary had escaped from prison. When I heard the news, I was writing my debriefing report. A uniformed colleague burst in and tackled me to the ground. “Zachary escaped!!” “The armed forces they had don’t match the intel you provided!!” “Did you hold something back?!” His fists rained down on me without reason. He grabbed me by the collar, and I tilted my head to the side. Colleagues rushed in to pull us apart. The man coughed violently and threw a photo at me. In the photo. Inside the only transport vehicle left at the scene. Zachary had used my colleagues’ blood… To write my name over and over again. “The ones who took Zachary are foreign forces we haven’t identified yet.” “The officers transporting Zachary have been confirmed. Thirty-one people. Not one survived.” My lighter wouldn’t ignite. My partner gestured with his chin toward the man who’d just burst in and attacked me. “Young’s girlfriend… was among them.” So his girlfriend had just been killed. No wonder he resented me so much. “I didn’t withhold information.” “I never knew he had foreign backing.” I shoved the lighter into my pocket. Suddenly let out a dejected laugh. No matter how I explained it, it sounded hollow. “It’s okay, I believe you.” My partner patted my shoulder. “If you wanted to side with Zachary, this whole area would’ve been reduced to rubble by now.” “…” I didn’t know how to respond. So I stared at the white mist dispersing in the air. But my mind inexplicably wandered back. The night before Zachary was arrested, he’d rubbed my shoulder. “Liam, got a light?” The man had a sharp nose bridge, and when he looked down, his lashes were long. He leaned close to me, taking a spark from the cigarette in my mouth. I asked him if he didn’t have his own lighter. He laughed and said he wanted everything of mine.

After graduating from the police academy, I went undercover to get close to Zachary. When we were young, Zachary and I had stayed at the same orphanage. In our youth, we’d been close friends. Because of this, I had perfect, ideal conditions for approaching Zachary. But the moment we met, he had his men beat me up. I remember that day he wore a pair of dirty Adidas sneakers, stepping on my shoulder with his shoe. My finger bone was broken on the first go—it hurt worse than any injury I’d gotten at the police academy. He grabbed my hair and asked me: “Didn’t I tell you to get lost? Why did you come back?” I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out, but I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. I said, “Don’t send me away.” “I can’t survive out there, Zachary.” Zachary took me in. But for several nights in a row, he just had me drink with his gang of thugs. “Come on, drink up.” “You’re Liam, right? I heard you’re the boss’s brother?” A sleazy young man draped his arm over my shoulder. My clean white shirt seemed too out of place in that world. So he laughed mockingly. “Fuck, why so shy?” “We’re all bros here.” “Look, your brother—” Through my swaying vision, I followed his pointing finger to where Zachary sat. I saw a strikingly beautiful young man climbing onto the lap of a man who was tilting his head back, chugging alcohol. Nearby, his subordinates chatted and laughed, completely used to it. …This was the first time I learned about Zachary’s sexual orientation. I began to feel relieved for my childhood self. The one who used to crawl into Zachary’s bed and rub his stomach. I told Zachary I’d graduated middle school but dropped out of high school. He laughed with a cigarette in his mouth, calling me stupid. “Back then I fought tooth and nail to get you out.” “And you ended up like this?” “…” But those few days, I was also quite troubled. On the surface, Zachary ran a tea business, and the work he arranged for me was keeping track of daily tea sales. But anyone could figure out he wasn’t actually selling tea. That day, I rushed out and blocked him as he was about to get in his car. “You can’t have me selling tea leaves for the rest of my life.” He laughed. I always felt I must seem pretty cute to him. “So what do you want to sell?” The man tilted his head, asking me with considerable patience. But I froze. If I actually said something at that moment, he’d probably put a gun to my head on the spot. “Scared now?” He smiled, studying my expression. From that moment, I began to understand—he wasn’t the Zachary I used to know anymore. He had more tricks up his sleeve than books I’d read, had long since walked a completely different path from me. I steeled myself and got in his car. “I want to sell what you’re selling.” “Zachary, I want to do something big.” “Why should you get to do it, but not me?” Then Zachary brought me to… A canned meat processing plant. … “You’re messing with me.” I twitched my mouth, coming to this conclusion. “This factory is yours now, Liam. You’ve studied, so you know how to run it.” “This will be enough for your whole life…” “I don’t want it.” Only now did I realize. He was planning to shake me off. “Why can they follow you, but I can’t?” “Don’t you trust me? Do you think because I joined later, I’m suspicious?” “Fine, Zachary, then watch closely—compared to your men, who’s more willing to risk their life for you?” As I spoke, I started to put my hand into the running tea mixing machine beside us. Actually, in that second, my heart was racing. I’d even figured out how to report a work injury if my hand really got ground up. But the man lunged forward and pinned me to the ground. That was the first time I saw him angry. “Fucking hell, Liam, whose body do you think you’re playing with?” “Can you stop messing around?” “How could I possibly let you join me? You know what I do…” “Could get you killed?” He asked me, almost frantically. But in my heart, I answered him clearly. Of course I know what you’re doing. I came here to get you killed. But what I said aloud was: “Zachary, let me help you.” “I’m already a mess anyway, this is all my life will ever be.” “You might as well take care of me. I’ll be your problem for life.”

Zachary definitely didn’t know I was the documentary type. When it came to throwing tantrums, he couldn’t really win against me. As if forced into a corner, he slowly started letting me get involved in his operations. Saturday night, they were going to raid that nightclub in the south district. This was my first assignment— Take a few guys, kick down the nightclub’s door, and smash everything in sight. Before I left, Zachary squeezed my wrist. “Such thin arms and legs.” “Can you even fight?” … I really wanted to tell him my police academy scores were good enough to take down a dozen of him. But in the end, I just grinned at him. “Zachary.” “Just watch.” After nightfall, the city surged with an uneasy scent of blood. I led the group and kicked down the opposing headquarters’ door first. This gradually evolved into an all-out gang war. It was my first time seeing people hacking at each other with machetes—completely different from the minor scuffles at the police academy. I nearly got hit several times. Dodging frantically on instinct in the crowd. Suddenly I heard someone shout my name. I looked instinctively. Someone shoved me hard, and I tumbled out onto the street. “And you wanted me to ‘just watch.’” “Watch you get yourself killed?” Just now, if Zachary hadn’t pushed me aside, that machete would’ve come down the next second and severed my carotid artery. The person who’d prevented me from becoming a human blood fountain. Now groaned with some discomfort. … Fresh red blood darkened his already dark clothes. He shouldn’t have been here, but he’d forcibly taken that blow for me. I stood there thinking. Don’t you dare die. I want to send you to prison, not to hell. “Why are you standing there? Run!” “Fuck, Liam, I really fell for your bullshit.” “You should’ve just stayed home where it’s safe.” “…” The man pushed me away irritably. Just like when we were little—when others bullied me, he’d yell at me the same way. “You’re useless. Get out of the way, I’ll beat those guys up.” Unfortunately. Adult gang fights aren’t children’s games. When the police sirens sounded, that’s what I thought. This location was quite remote. The police arrived unusually fast. Clearly someone had tipped them off. Both gangs’ members instantly became rats fleeing in panic. Even so, quite a few were caught. Zachary and I both got away, but his people suffered heavy casualties—not just his own injury, but his manpower and influence. Obviously, this police operation was very successful. In the car, I bandaged the wound on his abdomen. He reached out his fingers, restlessly tousling my short hair. “Liam, without me you’d be dead today.” I lowered my eyes. He really was tough—he didn’t even grunt when the iodine seeped into his wound. “I can fight pretty well.” “Next time I won’t panic like that.” I tied him an ugly bow and answered. He tilted his head, his deep eyes fixed on me, then suddenly smiled. “Liam.” “There’s something I never told you.” “I only told you about our retreat route.” “But…” “The police blocked us right on our escape route, perfectly positioned.” The man reached up and lifted my chin. His rough fingertip sent an odd sensation through me. “What do you think…” “Will I let there be a next time?” “Little traitor?”

“…” I met his eyes directly. Shook off his hand. “Don’t fucking touch me.” “You suspect me? Zachary, you’ve got some nerve calling me a traitor.” “Don’t I look enough like your dog already?” I don’t know why, but my anger flared up instantly. For a moment, even I believed how loyal I was to him. The person across from me stared at me without blinking, saying nothing. But I knew clearly what that bulge in his pocket was. Maybe the next second, if he got pissed off. He could just pull it out, press it to my forehead, and send me to meet my maker. In the end, after holding it in for a long while, All he said to me was one sentence. “Get out of the car.” Huh? I didn’t react, because the car was still going 80 mph. He suddenly opened the car door and threw me out. I came to my senses mid-tumble, and before I could count how many bones I’d broken, I staggered to my feet. The car had already driven far away. I didn’t even get to eat its exhaust. On the roadside in the middle of nowhere, I kicked a tree trunk. “Fuck.” I was truly fucking innocent. Because from beginning to end, I never reported Zachary’s retreat route to headquarters. I understood Zachary too damn well. This guy would definitely set traps for me. So much for brotherly love—people like him faced betrayal from those closest to them most easily. So he was suspicious and cautious. But there was one thing I couldn’t figure out. If I didn’t leak it, then where did headquarters get their information from? Was Zachary bluffing me? No, it didn’t seem like it. The way he threw me out of the car without mercy. At least proved he had enough evidence to identify me as the culprit. Ten days later, Zachary found me again. At a fried chicken shop. I’d been staying here these past few days. The owner charged me 20 bucks a night to crash. My arm was roughly in a makeshift sling, one leg was limping, and I leaned against the wall watching a bunch of old men play cards. He wore a Burberry trench coat I could never afford in this lifetime. Hands in his pockets. Looking down at me. Smiling: “How’d you think to hide here?” “Know how long I’ve been looking for you?” I realized I really was like a dog. He was the bone—when he turned around, I’d come wagging after him. I’d practically lost all face. I really wanted to kick him flying, but I was afraid my other leg would go lame too, so I could only roll my eyes at him. “How would I dare.” “What brings Master Zachary to find me?” “What, planning to deal with this ‘traitor’? Chop off all four limbs?” I kindly provided him with suggestions for disposing of me, but he just kept smiling. Reached out and smoothed my hair. “Really hold grudges.” “We figured it out. It really wasn’t Liam who leaked it.” “Our conversation that day was overheard by the police’s actual mole.” “I misjudged you, Liam. But you know, in my line of work, what I fear most is people close to me stabbing me in the back.” He looked down and squeezed my shoulder. I could hear the sincerity in his words. “Forgive me, okay?” But my heart sank heavily. Yes, my suspicion was cleared. Then. That police undercover who got caught—who exactly was it…?

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After I went abroad, I heard that every lover Bradley found resembled me. When people mentioned me, his friends would say, “As long as Bradley’s first love Elliott is willing to return home, no other woman stands a chance.” Until Bradley found a newly debuted starlet who didn’t resemble me in the slightest. Yet she was the first girlfriend he ever publicly acknowledged. That year, I hurried back home. Everyone waited to watch me regret my choices and beg Bradley desperately. Even Bradley hinted at me indirectly, “Elliott, your timing for coming back isn’t great.” But they didn’t know I wasn’t here to fight for Bradley. I came back to get married. Walking out of the airport, I spotted Bradley in the crowd immediately. He wore a coat, his features more mature than when I’d left years ago. But the expression on his face was far too complex. “They said you were coming back. I thought it was fake news.” I stopped with my suitcase, responding coolly, “Just back to handle some things.” Bradley took the suitcase from my hands. “Your father asked me to pick you up. Don’t misunderstand.” I nodded and followed him to the underground parking garage. On the way, I checked my phone. The group chat that had been silent for ages had exploded. 【Did Bradley really go pick up Elliott? Is it true? Elliott’s back?】 【What about Bradley’s current girlfriend, that starlet named Wilkinson? Did he dump her?】 【Do you even need to ask? And why do you think Elliott suddenly came back? Obviously to steal him back!】 【Wilkinson’s nothing. At most she’s just Bradley’s novelty. Now that Elliott’s back, I’ll eat my words if that starlet gets so much as a glance from him.】 【I’ve met Wilkinson. Don’t underestimate her. Anyone who can lock down Bradley is ruthless.】 Bradley noticed my constantly vibrating phone too. He glanced at the messages and said to me, “Elliott, your timing really isn’t great. I already have a girlfriend.” My hand froze on the passenger door handle. I opened the back door instead. Only two words left my mouth: “Congratulations.” Bradley slammed his door particularly hard. That’s when I realized—after all these years, he’d learned to smoke. The Bradley of the past had been so disciplined. No smoking, no drinking, no wild nights. But in the years I’d been abroad, I’d heard about at least a dozen of his flings. Bradley’s phone rang. A sweet, cloying female voice came through. “Bradley, I’m exhausted on set. Can you come pick me up?” “Send me the address.” “Love you.” Bradley hung up and smiled at me. “You don’t mind if I make a detour to pick up my girlfriend, do you?” “Of course not.” I should never have gotten in his car. Bradley parked near the film set. In the bustling crowd, I spotted Wilkinson immediately. She was too striking. Even bundled up completely, people could recognize her at a glance. Fans were taking photos along the way. Wilkinson pulled down her mask slightly, smiling brilliantly. “Thank you. My boyfriend’s a civilian—could you guys please not photograph him?” The fans jeered, “We heard your boyfriend is Bradley. Is it true?” Wilkinson didn’t deny it, just put her index finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. After she got in the car, she took off her sunglasses and kissed Bradley’s cheek. “Bradley, have you been waiting long?” Her eyes shifted to me. “And you are?” I smiled politely. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Elliott, a friend of Bradley’s.” Wilkinson’s smile deepened. “Elliott, I hear people mention you all the time.” Bradley naturally fastened her seatbelt for her. “Sit tight, I’m about to drive.” Wilkinson said coquettishly, “Look at me, always forgetting. You have to do it for me every time.” I turned my gaze to the window, not watching their affection. The car hadn’t been driving long when Wilkinson initiated conversation. “Elliott, in all these years abroad, did you ever have a boyfriend?” I answered frankly, “I did.” “See, I knew it. Elliott, you’re as beautiful as a celebrity. You’ve never lacked admirers, right? “Like Bradley—he was the one who pursued me. His friends all say I’m different to Bradley, that I’m someone he especially favors. “I just don’t understand—do they mean Bradley has some first love? I heard you and Bradley grew up together. You must know who his first love is. Tell me?” She looked at me, her eyes more scrutinizing than curious. Bradley frowned. “I don’t have any first love. They’re just joking around.” Wilkinson pouted and unhappily started playing with her phone. The rest of the ride was silent. When Bradley dropped me off at home, he didn’t even get out of the car. He rolled down his window and said casually, “My girlfriend’s upset. I need to placate her. I won’t go in. Say hi to your parents for me.” I was about to leave when Wilkinson suddenly called out to me. “Elliott, let’s add each other on social media.” She added, “You add me, so you don’t end up not accepting my request.”

My friends threw a small welcome-back party for me. No one expected Bradley to bring Wilkinson. Wilkinson had carefully prepared gifts for everyone, especially me. “I heard Bradley treats Elliott like family. When Bradley and I get married, Elliott, remember to be my bridesmaid.” Several friends changed expressions, saying to Bradley, “Bradley, aren’t you going to handle this?” Bradley laughed. “You want me to go home and fight with her?” Wilkinson covered her mouth shyly. She suggested playing Truth or Dare. The bottle landed right on me. Everyone eagerly tried to ask, but Wilkinson stopped them. “Everyone step aside! Let Bradley ask first.” Bradley took a drink and looked at me. “Did you get a boyfriend abroad?” I nodded. “Yes.” Quite a few people gasped. Bradley had a friend named Jack who teased me, “Elliott’s joking. If she’s lying, she drinks as penalty. I’ll drink for Elliott.” Next round, when Bradley spun the bottle, it landed on me again. He asked, “What’s your boyfriend’s name?” I answered, “Not convenient to say.” Wilkinson laughed loudly. “Elliott, good thing you’re not an actress. Your acting is pretty terrible. Men are too dense to notice, but we’re both women—I can tell when you’re lying right away~” Bradley’s past lovers never dared speak like this. But the one sitting beside him now was Wilkinson, the only girlfriend he’d ever acknowledged. Bradley’s silence indicated approval. I swept my hair back and smiled. “The kind of affected pretension Miss Wilkinson does, I truly can’t manage.” Wilkinson’s smile froze on her face. I prided myself on having a good temper, but a sharp tongue. This was something Bradley apparently hadn’t gotten around to telling Wilkinson. Still, her psychological resilience was strong. She quickly smiled again and poured me a drink. “Fair’s fair. If you can’t answer, you have to drink. Please.” “Fine.” I downed the drink readily. The bottle in Bradley’s hands seemed magical—next round, it landed on me again. He asked almost without thinking, “Why did you come back this time?” I gave up answering that question. Bradley saw through my intention and pressed his hand on the bottle. “What are you back for?” His fingertips were white from gripping so hard. I answered reluctantly, “To get married.” Actually, saying it didn’t matter much—I’d have to invite friends to the wedding eventually anyway. Everyone burst into laughter. “Haven’t seen you in years, didn’t expect Elliott’s methods of fooling people to get more childish.” “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” “Elliott, you’re getting worse at lying.” I looked at Wilkinson. “So sorry, I can’t be your bridesmaid, because my wedding is early next month.” She asked curiously, “Is it that boyfriend you dated abroad? Elliott, just tell us. We’re not going to look down on him, are we?” I didn’t need to explain to her, just said coolly, “He’s excellent, but I can’t reveal his identity.” Bradley suddenly pulled Wilkinson up. “Wilkinson, your acting is much better than Elliott’s. I can’t watch this charade anymore. Let’s go.” Jack grabbed him, whispering in his ear, “Don’t, Bradley. If you miss this chance, when will you get another—” Bradley shook off his hand. “When did I ever wait for her? These years I’ve played with plenty of women. Every single one was better than Elliott.” Jack’s unspoken words were forcefully cut off. I met Bradley’s gaze. His eyes were trembling. I stood there, feeling like all the blood in my body had turned ice cold. “Bradley, aren’t you disgusted with yourself?” He licked the corner of his mouth with a mocking smile. “Don’t need you to worry about it.”

After the party ended, Jack couldn’t help asking me, “Elliott, is this marriage thing real or fake?” I nodded calmly. “It’s real.” He sighed. “There’s no need to lie to me, is there? Others might not know, but don’t I? You and Bradley just can’t get past that old obstacle. Actually, Bradley, he—” I interrupted him. “Jack, that’s not an obstacle. It’s a person. “I really am getting married this time. I’m not lying to you or acting out of spite.” Jack seemed to receive a tremendous blow. “Elliott! Look at what Bradley’s become these years. How can you…” “Don’t I know what he’s been like these years? How carefree he’s been in his world of flowers.” “These years, Bradley has looked at one woman after another who resembles you. The thing he’s said most is ‘like her, but not her.’” I said weakly, “Jack, but you saw it too. He still hates me.” … Bradley’s car suddenly stopped halfway. He issued an eviction order to Wilkinson beside him. “Get out.” Wilkinson’s expression stiffened. She forced a smile. “What, you say you don’t believe it, but hearing she’s getting married, you’re humiliated and angry?” Bradley’s eyes grew deeper. “Wilkinson, know your place. Blacklisting you is just one sentence from me.” Between her career and talking back, Wilkinson chose the former. She thought she was different to Bradley. No woman had sat in Bradley’s passenger seat. No woman had been acknowledged by him as his girlfriend. Other women were dumped just for mentioning Elliott. Wilkinson didn’t think Elliott was the first love everyone talked about. She thought Bradley felt more hatred. He’d loved, but love had turned to hate. Everyone wanted to be Mrs. Bradley. Since she, Wilkinson, had reached the threshold, she had to do everything possible to cross it. Wilkinson posted on Instagram—a photo she’d secretly taken of me. The private room lighting was dim. She’d only captured my back. Caption: 【Heard your first love came back, so I became the smear of mosquito blood on the wall.】 One minute later, she deleted it. Wilkinson was the top celebrity Bradley had promoted. Her every move could trend. This time, my name appeared in the trending topics. Her fans were indignant: 【What first love? She’s just someone who dumped Bradley back then and now can’t stand seeing our Wilkinson doing well, so she came back to steal him.】 【Isn’t this just a homewrecker?】 【She’s not just a homewrecker, she’s a murderer. She killed a mutual friend of hers and Bradley’s.】 【Not many people know about what happened back then. All I can say is Elliott has very powerful connections and background. You can guess the rest~】 【Was Wilkinson threatened? If you were threatened, post a period in your next Instagram.】 Wilkinson’s next Instagram post was indeed a period, which she then deleted. She stirred up waves again. When she came to my door to apologize, she still pretended to be innocent, wiping away tears. “I’m sorry, Elliott. I just accidentally posted script dialogue. I didn’t know netizens would get so worked up and actually cyberbully you. I’m sorry.” She cried pathetically. I said coldly, “You want to make me suffer but don’t want to offend the George family behind me. Wilkinson, there’s no such convenient arrangement in the world.” “Elliott, I know what they said is true—you and Bradley had a relationship, so you’re targeting me. I understand, but please leave Bradley alone.” I was about to speak when Wilkinson suddenly pitched forward, her head hitting the table directly. Bradley walked in just in time to see this scene. He rushed forward and scooped up the unconscious Wilkinson. Blood gushed out, staining half his shoulder red. “Elliott, I already took down all the trending topics for you. Don’t push too far.” I said angrily, “Do you think it was someone else who directed her fans to cyberbully me—” Bradley mocked me. “But Elliott, which part did they get wrong? That you left me without a word, or that you got someone killed?” The words stuck in my throat. He didn’t look back, carrying Wilkinson as he rushed to the hospital.

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These past few years, Pierce has performed plastic surgery on me many times. Every single time, I went willingly. I believed he was trying to help me escape my ex-fiancé’s pursuit through these procedures. He loved me. Until I saw a photo of the woman he loved most during her lifetime. Because I looked just like her. Once again stood up at City Hall. This was the fifth time Pierce had run from our wedding. I had a sinking feeling that marrying Pierce in this lifetime would be impossible. That evening, I found him at the club owned by his friend Steven. “I’m seriously done with you. How many times have you run now?” “Isn’t Lester going to want to kill you?” Steven snatched the drink from Pierce’s hand. The door stood slightly ajar. I didn’t have the courage to push it open. Pierce had drunk himself into a stupor. But the words that came out of his mouth felt like a sharp blade. Stabbing straight into my heart. “I really can’t deceive myself anymore. She’s not Juliet.” “Even though she looks more and more like her. That expression, those eyes.” “I don’t love her. I’m very clear about this—I love Juliet.” I didn’t know Juliet personally, but I knew of her. She was Pierce’s white moonlight—his first love. She had died in a car accident several years ago. Three years together, and I thought I could warm his heart. But today, his absence again made me wake up from the dream. Perhaps I had never truly entered Pierce’s heart. And I had never really understood this man. In the dimly lit private room, Pierce’s suppressed voice came through again. Carrying pain and a torn, sobbing quality. “All these years, I’ve sculpted her to look more and more like Juliet, but I really can’t deceive myself. They’re fundamentally two different people.” Steven seemed to sigh, saying Pierce was becoming more and more obsessed. “She’s still not similar enough. Juliet’s waist was so slender you could encircle it with one hand, but Lester’s waist isn’t delicate enough yet.” Steven said, “You’re not going to coax her into another surgery, are you? Don’t you care if she lives or dies?” Pierce laughed coldly. “Believe it or not, with just one word from me, she’d give me her life. What’s removing a few ribs compared to that?” “Stop with the surgeries. Someone’s going to die.” Steven tried to persuade him. “And aren’t you afraid that one day when she learns the truth, she’ll leave you?” Pierce’s tone was contemptuous. “Would she dare? Everything she has now is because of me. Without me, could she even survive?” My heart plummeted, my mind went blank, and my entire body trembled. So all these years, I’d been living in Pierce’s lies. He had once told me that by changing my appearance, I could escape the misfortune that person had brought me. Pierce was a highly skilled plastic surgeon. Over these years, he had performed many surgeries on me, both major and minor. Watching myself become increasingly unfamiliar in the mirror, I had once felt as though I’d been reborn. But now, I finally understood. These three years, he had simply been sculpting me into the work of art he desired. I was nothing more than a substitute. Pierce had a woman he deeply loved named Juliet. She had died in a car accident during the year he loved her most. Pierce had nearly lost his own life because of it. He said he’d tried everything, but in the end could only watch helplessly as his beloved died in his arms. He had been depressed for a long time after that. Dragging my exhausted body, I returned to our “home.” Over three years, every corner of this place bore traces of my life here. But today, I truly wanted to leave. If I couldn’t get closer to him, then I should distance myself. My mind was in chaos. For the first time, I felt utterly lost about life. When I met Pierce, I thought I could live well for the rest of my life. But why had things turned out this way? I loved him so much, believed he was my redemption. He was the one who helped me escape that nightmare of a past. Yes, during the time when Pierce was depressed after Juliet’s death, we met. I encountered Pierce at the most desperate moment of my life. Meeting him was like a drowning person grasping a lifeline. That day, I was being frantically chased and attacked by my ex-fiancé, who seemed to be having a violent episode. In my panic, I stumbled into an unfamiliar garden where I ran into Pierce. He saved me and brought me back to his home. The warm lights in his house and a bowl of hot noodles completely soothed my terror. So I told him about my ordeal. I had once had a sweet romance too. With an excellent fiancé from a privileged background. But at some point, my fiancé changed. He became easily irritated and angry. Then he started hitting me.

“It’s all because of you. Everything is because of you.” He would scream madly while beating me. I didn’t know what I had done to make him this way. No matter how much I asked, he never gave me a reason. Every few days he would have another episode, beating me black and blue. Even when I called the police, they treated it as a domestic matter and didn’t want to get involved. Besides, his family had power and connections. Even if he was taken in, he’d be out quickly. After each beating, he would kneel and repent. But then he’d do it all over again. I tried many times to take him to see a psychiatrist, but he strongly resisted. Watching him become more unhinged day by day, I couldn’t take it anymore and chose to run. But he found me every single time. Each time he found me, another even more frenzied beating and abuse would follow. Later, he became increasingly crazy, even imprisoning me and forbidding me from contacting the outside world. I broke down. Several times I even thought about death. I begged him to let me go. He said, “You can never leave me. I became this way because of you. We’re locked together for life.” My ex-fiancé Chris said I could never escape him in this lifetime. I had no parents, no family, no one. I had nowhere to turn for help. After that encounter, I stayed at Pierce’s house. Every day I helped him with household chores and such. Pierce said I was so talented, I shouldn’t just stay at home all day. I should shine in my professional field. But if I went out to work, Chris would find me quickly. I didn’t dare imagine what would happen then. So Pierce suggested I get plastic surgery. I was persuaded by his bold idea. Because I wasn’t willing to just live under Chris’s shadow like this. As long as I became another person, Chris wouldn’t be able to find me. Then I could live a normal life. I thought about it for a few days and agreed to Pierce’s plan. After recovering from the first surgery, the way Pierce looked at me changed. I remember when the last bandage was removed from my face, Pierce hugged me tightly. He said excitedly that the surgery was very successful. Looking at the face in the mirror that had changed so dramatically, I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. I thought I could finally escape from Chris. I was so happy that I overlooked his bloodshot eyes and the tears pooling in them. Later, he told me it was the most successful surgery he’d ever performed—absolutely perfect. Now I knew that the “perfection” he spoke of contained the dark “wish” deep in his heart. A few days after the first surgery, Pierce confessed his feelings to me. He said I was an angel sent by heaven to save him. Because of me, he had rediscovered the courage and confidence to live. Because of Chris, I wasn’t ready to immediately enter another relationship. So I didn’t agree right away. But he wasn’t in a hurry. Slowly, he moved me with his actions and sincerity. He was someone who paid great attention to detail and creating special moments. He was good-looking, gentlemanly, and romantic. Eventually, I fell for him. Pierce said his angel should be the most perfect woman in the world. He wanted to make me the most beautiful bride. So he performed several more surgeries on me.

The first few times, I agreed easily. Because I still harbored fear of Chris. Only by becoming another person could I feel safe. And only Pierce’s scalpel could accomplish that. But later, during a procedure to implant facial prosthetics, whether due to improper operation or something else. After the surgery, I developed an infection and nearly died on the operating table. I remember they worked to save me for a day and a night before I was out of danger. After that, I developed a kind of post-traumatic fear response to plastic surgery. I was no longer enthusiastic about it—in fact, I became quite resistant. But each time, he desperately persuaded me. I knew his behavior was pathological, but I loved him too much. I couldn’t bear to refuse him, so time after time I obediently lay down on the operating table. I became less and less like my original self. Every time a surgery was completed, the way he looked at me was so bright. Now I had finally found the answer. The reason why he was so obsessed with performing surgery on me. I was nothing more than a substitute for his white moonlight. A substitute who resembled his white moonlight. Only now did I realize belatedly why his gaze at me was always so strange. As if he was looking through me, seeing someone else. I opened the door to Pierce’s usually locked study. Never before had I felt such urgency to know what Juliet actually looked like. I had known about her existence before. But I had never allowed myself to compare with a dead woman. After searching the room, I found a hidden compartment behind the bookshelf. Opening it, I found a photo album and a thick notebook inside. The moment I opened the album, my heart was pounding. As if I was about to unveil a world mystery. Two faces so similar, similar enough to make me feel suffocated. The same eyes, the same contours, even the small dimple on the left corner of the mouth. I didn’t know what kind of mentality drove Pierce to sculpt my face into Juliet’s likeness. My body felt cold, frozen stiff. I couldn’t help but touch my own face. For the first time, resembling another person filled me with terror. Once again I felt the same panic as when I was fleeing from Chris’s pursuit. So frantic, and so desperate. Driven by curiosity, I opened the notebook. It recorded Pierce’s life and emotional state since Juliet’s death. I knew there must be records about me. Soon enough, I found them. “I met a woman. Her arrival seems to have added a bit of light to my life. But I know she’s not you, so I’m gradually transforming her to look like you.” “Today, I gave her the same double eyelids as yours.” “I gave her the same dimples as you. When she smiles, it’s like seeing you before me.” Like some kind of self-torture, I flipped through page after page. With each entry I read, I felt my heart being trampled by thousands of horses, being cut to pieces. Very late, Pierce finally came home. By then I had already washed up and was lying in bed. A few hours had been enough for me to calm myself. Pierce first apologized, explaining that there was a sudden emergency at the hospital, so he couldn’t go with me to get our marriage license. He promised that next time, this definitely wouldn’t happen again. So many promises now that even his excuses came smoothly. “Honey, I really messed up. There won’t be a next time.” I smiled and said it was okay, work came first. I didn’t think there would be a next time anyway.

He looked at me with surprise, as if shocked by my calm reaction. Because the previous times, I had been angry with him for quite a while. He held me, saying many things to comfort me. I leaned quietly in his arms. Appearing to listen carefully, but inside my emotions were all mixed up. I was even trembling with fear. Pierce cupped my face and asked with concern what was wrong. I said, “I’m afraid we won’t be able to be together in the future.” Pierce kissed me and reassured me it wouldn’t happen. We held each other and talked for a long time. I held back from pushing him away. He loved Juliet so much, yet here he was with me, performing this pretense of affection. I suddenly felt this person was so strange. He gently stroked my waist. I thought of his conversation with Steven and couldn’t help but get goosebumps all over. I was waiting for what he would say next. Like waiting for his verdict, to let myself give up completely again. Sure enough, he finally spoke. “Honey, you studied dance performance. A perfect waistline can showcase the charm of your dancing. I think these few ribs of yours are too prominent—they expose a flaw in your figure.” My heart felt like it had been slashed open, bleeding profusely. I said, “But I think I’m fine the way I am.” I spoke hesitantly, wanting him to see my unwillingness. But his eyes flashed with an inexplicable excitement. He hadn’t listened to me at all. “Trust me, it’s just a few cuts. Trust my skills. I guarantee I’ll make you graceful and incomparably beautiful.” My heart turned to ash as I looked at him with hollow eyes. He was still gesturing at my waist, as if preparing to cut into a metal object. He kept muttering various terms, but my heart grew colder and colder. He had never loved me. My existence was merely a comfort for his soul. Or rather, I was his work, an object to commemorate the person who died. No life, no soul. Who would care about the feelings of an empty shell? “Will I die?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Nonsense. I’m a doctor. Are you questioning my medical skills?” I smiled bitterly inside. Every time he told me his medical skills were excellent, how beautiful I would be after surgery. But not once did he tell me how risky the surgery was, what the failure rate might be. And I had never questioned him. For the first time, I felt pathetic. Today, I didn’t want to continue being so foolish. “Pierce, I don’t want any more surgeries. Is that okay?” Pierce’s expression seemed to change, but quickly became gentle again. “What’s wrong? In a bad mood?” I said, “I think I’m fine as I am. I don’t see the need for more surgery.” Pierce’s face was no longer gentle. “Lester, you’re becoming disobedient.” I looked exhausted. “Pierce, I’m really tired. I don’t want to keep doing this.” Pierce thought my refusal this time was because of his running from the wedding again today. So he promised me that he would definitely marry me in this lifetime. Besides me, he wouldn’t marry anyone else. I pushed him away, saying that wasn’t the reason. I said I just wanted to live a normal life, didn’t want to keep messing with this face and this body anymore. That night neither of us could convince the other. In the end we both stuck to our positions until we fell into exhausted sleep. The next day Pierce drove me to work. In the car, I could see Pierce was in a very bad mood. If it were before, I would have asked him with concern what was wrong. But now, I didn’t want to be considerate anymore. Seeing that I hadn’t acknowledged him for a while, he finally couldn’t help but speak.

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