Category: English

As I was about to sign the papers and pay the $200,000 down payment for our future house, my girlfriend suddenly stared at the realtor. “Only my name goes on the deed and the purchase agreement,” she said. I froze, thinking I had misheard her. “Chloe, this is two hundred thousand dollars. My parents sold their old house just to scrape this together. We can’t even put both our names on it?” Chloe’s face instantly turned cold. “Ethan, are you seriously keeping score with me right now?” “I gave you the best years of my youth. I’m just asking for this house to give me some security. Is that too much to ask?” Seeing other home buyers whispering and looking at us, I quickly lowered my voice to soothe her. “It’s not about keeping score. Having both our names is just the legal way to protect our marriage.” Chloe sneered. “Don’t talk to me about the law. I only care about your attitude!” “My bestie’s husband bought a house in full cash and only put her name on it. Why is it so hard for you when it’s just a down payment?” “Ethan, if your name is on this deed today, the wedding is off!” She turned to leave. My chest tightened. We were so close to getting married. If things fell apart now, I wouldn’t know how to face my parents. “Fine! We’ll write only your name!” I gritted my teeth and called her back. Chloe stopped. Her frown instantly turned into a beaming smile. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. “You’re the best, babe! I knew you loved me the most!” But I never expected that very night, she would give me the lesson of a lifetime.

To celebrate “her” new luxury apartment, Chloe booked a table at a high-end restaurant that night. She even ordered an expensive vintage wine. After a few glasses, her face was flushed with excitement. “Ethan, this house is my leverage now. My mom is going to be so thrilled.” I forced a smile, but my heart felt like it was crushed under a boulder. Two hundred thousand dollars. All for her smile and my uncertain future. By the end of the dinner, Chloe was completely wasted. She slumped over the table, mumbling, “I have a house now… I have a home…” I sighed and got up to pay the bill. When I came back, I noticed her phone on the table. It was buzzing non-stop. I didn’t mean to snoop, but the notifications were coming in too fast. And the name of the group chat popping up on the screen made my eyelid twitch: [High-Society Wannabes & Simp Harvesters (Group 3)] I instinctively picked up her phone and used her thumb to unlock it. The pinned chat was scrolling frantically with messages. “@BrightSky (Chloe’s handle) Babe! How did it go? Did that idiot swipe his card?” “Make sure you don’t get the marriage certificate first. Otherwise, it becomes marital property. You must buy it now, and only in your name!” Ten minutes ago, right before she passed out, Chloe had sent a voice note. I tapped it. Her smug, drunken voice came through the speaker. “Got it! A $200,000 down payment, all paid by him. Only my name is on the deed!” “Add his name? No way! A little drama, and I had him wrapped around my finger.” The group chat exploded. The screen was flooded with “Queen behavior!” and “Teach us your ways!” A user named @Simp_Slayer messaged: “Incredible job, babe! This guy is just a stepping stone anyway.” “Now that the house is yours, it’s pre-marital property. Even if you divorce him later, he won’t get a dime.” “He paid the down payment voluntarily. In court, the judge will just rule it as a gift. He’ll be crying in the corner!” My hand started to shake. A cold shiver ran up my spine. The “security” drama this afternoon was a carefully planned trap. This was the woman I had cherished and loved for three years? I kept scrolling up. I saw a screenshot Chloe had shared from a Twitter thread. The title read: *Girls, how do I get my boyfriend to pay for a house but only put my name on it? Urgent!* The comments below were packed with toxic advice. “Threaten to break up. Works every time.” “Accuse him of not trusting you. Gaslight him.” “If all else fails, cry, scream, throw a tantrum.” Chloe had replied: *Noted. Trying this tonight. The guy has some savings, can’t let him slip away.* Looking at those words, my stomach churned. Still in denial, I tapped into her chat with her mother, Eleanor. The timestamp was from this afternoon, right when we were signing the papers. Eleanor: “Chloe, is the deed signed? Are you sure that poor boy’s name isn’t on it?” Chloe: “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s done. This house belongs to our family now. Ethan has nothing to do with it.” Eleanor: “Good! By the way, Aunt Susan set you up with a PhD who just came back from abroad. Free tomorrow night for a date?” “I heard his family owns factories. Way better than Ethan, who’s just a corporate slave.” “Now that you have a house, your value is different. Keep Ethan as a backup, but keep your options open. Don’t tie yourself to one tree.” Chloe had replied with an “OK” emoji. “I know, Mom. Now that the house is mine, I can easily ghost Ethan later with some random excuse.” “He already paid the money anyway. No loss for me.” “Send me a picture of the PhD. Is he hot?” *Slam!* I slammed the phone onto the table in fury. The noise startled the nearby diners and woke Chloe up. She rubbed her eyes, looking dazed. “Babe… what’s wrong? Are we going home?” She reached out to grab my arm, acting cute as usual. I stepped back to avoid her touch, my eyes freezing cold. Looking at this beautiful woman with a snake’s heart. I suddenly laughed. I laughed at how stupid I had been. I laughed at how I had used my parents’ hard-earned money to feed an ungrateful leech. She thought she could ruin me just because she had Twitter gurus and toxic strategies. Too bad, Chloe. You don’t know my background. You have Twitter. But I have the law.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. Confronting her now was not smart. The house contract was just signed, and the paperwork wasn’t complete. Since you want to play, I’ll play with you. While she was still groggy, I took her phone again. I quickly took photos and screen recordings of all the chats, the group, and the Twitter posts. Then, I uploaded everything to my cloud drive. Once done, I cleared the transfer history, put her phone back, and put on a warm smile. I helped her up. “It’s nothing. My hand slipped.” “Come on, honey. Let’s go home.” Chloe leaned heavily on me, her breath smelling of alcohol. “Ethan… you’re so good to me…” “We’re going to be so happy…” I sneered inwardly. Oh, yes. I will make sure we are “happy.” The next morning, Chloe woke up with a pounding headache. She reached for her phone first thing. Seeing it untouched on the nightstand, she let out a sigh of relief. “Good morning, babe.” She walked out of the bedroom in her pajamas and saw me on the balcony making a call. I said to the phone, “Yes, I kept all the transfer records of the $200,000. The notes are very clear.” Chloe froze. Her eyes instantly filled with suspicion. “Ethan, who are you talking to? What transfer records?” I hung up, turned around, and smiled naturally. “Oh, I was just thinking. Since the house is only in your name, I wanted to make sure your mom feels secure.” “I just consulted a lawyer friend. He said to protect your rights, we should complete some formalities.” Hearing “protect your rights,” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “What formalities?” I walked over and poured her a glass of warm water. “The lawyer said that even though only your name is on the deed, I paid the money.” “To avoid any future disputes—like if I ever regret it and try to sue you.” “We should sign an agreement stating this money is a ‘voluntary pre-marital gift’ conditional on our marriage.” Chloe was ecstatic. Wasn’t this exactly what her group chat sisters had taught her? Lock in the gift status! She grabbed my hand excitedly. “Babe, you’re so thoughtful! Draft it quickly, and I’ll sign!” Looking at her eager face, I sneered inside. Greed really makes people stupid. “Sure, I’ll write it now.” I took out some paper and a pen I had prepared. I drafted a few quick terms. The core was: *Ethan paid $200,000 for the property down payment, registered under Chloe’s name.* But the killer clause was at the end: *[If the parties fail to marry, or if the marriage lasts less than one year, the female party must return the full amount plus interest.]* This is the standard legal concept of a conditional gift in contemplation of marriage. It was my first trap for her. Chloe took the agreement and scanned it. Her eyes stopped at “fail to marry.” She frowned. “Ethan, what is this? You don’t trust that I’ll marry you?” “If I sign this, doesn’t it make me look like a debtor?” She wasn’t entirely brainless. My face didn’t betray a thing. I put on a hurt expression. “Chloe, it’s $200,000. My parents’ retirement money.” “If I don’t have some guarantee, my parents will disown me.” “Besides, we’re getting married next month. This clause is just a piece of useless paper to you.” “Unless… you never planned on marrying me?” I turned the tables on her. Chloe’s eyes flickered. She thought of her mom’s words last night and that Yale PhD. But if she didn’t sign now and I backed out of the house deal, her dream of owning a luxury home would shatter. Besides, as long as they got married, she could just drag it out for a year or so before divorcing him. Then the money would be hers legally, right? Her online friends had said that once married, the money is considered spent on marital life or a gift, and it’s almost impossible to get back. She bit her lip. She felt she couldn’t lose. “Fine! I’ll sign!” “But I have one condition. Don’t show this to my mom before the deed is finalized. I don’t want her overthinking.” Just what I wanted. “Deal.” As I watched her sign her name and press her fingerprint onto the paper, the heavy weight in my chest finally lifted. But this was only the beginning.

After signing, Chloe was in high spirits. She immediately got dressed and put on makeup, claiming she was going to meet her bestie to share the good news. But I knew she was actually going to meet that Yale PhD. I didn’t expose her. I even kindly ordered an Uber for her. “Have fun. I’ll pick you up tonight.” As soon as she left, I headed straight to another law firm. I was there to meet Mark, the best litigation lawyer in town for financial disputes. “Mr. Miller, your evidence is rock solid,” Mark said, pushing up his glasses as he looked at the chat records and the agreement. “The chat records prove she had intent of fraud and using marriage for financial gain.” “And this agreement, although called a pre-marital gift confirmation, is actually a conditional gift contract.” “Now, all you need to do is make sure that ‘condition’ is never met.” I nodded. “Mark, if I break up with her now, how much of the money can I get back?” Mark smiled. “According to the law, since you two didn’t marry, the conditional gift must be returned in full.” “Plus, she is the party at fault. Not only does she have to return the principal, but if we play this right, she won’t even touch a cent of the property’s appreciation.” “However, since she’s still going on dates, why don’t we…” Mark leaned in and whispered a strategy. A cold gleam flashed in my eyes. “Great. Let’s do exactly that.” That night, I didn’t pick up Chloe. Instead, I sent her a Snapchat: *Sudden overtime at the office. Working through the night. Go home by yourself.* Chloe replied instantly: *Okay, honey. Work hard! Love you, mwah!* Even through the screen, I could feel her indifference and excitement. With me out of the way, she could do whatever she wanted with her PhD. Sitting in my dark living room, I opened Instagram. Sure enough, using my alt account, I could see the post she had blocked my main account from seeing. *Finally met a soul who understands me. Wish we met sooner.* The photo was a selfie at a Michelin-star restaurant. Opposite her sat a man in a suit. Although his face was blurred, the Patek Philippe on his wrist was screaming wealth. The location was tagged at the W Hotel downtown. I sneered and took a screenshot. Chloe, you think you’re keeping your options open. You don’t realize the backup plan you’re riding is actually a tiger ready to tear you apart. Over the next few days, I acted incredibly busy. I left early and came home late, treating her with cold detachment. Chloe was so wrapped up in her new romance and the joy of her new house that she didn’t care about my attitude at all. Until the home purchase invoice and contract were delivered to our apartment. Chloe tore the package open impatiently, kissing the contract with her name on it. “Ethan, let’s go choose the curtains this weekend. I want the French royal style.” She said casually, posing in front of the mirror. I sat on the sofa, playing with my lighter. “Chloe, let’s not rush the curtains.” “There’s something I need to tell you.” Chloe stopped and turned around. “What is it?” I looked up, staring straight into her eyes. “My parents changed their minds about the wedding.” “They said since the house only has your name, your family should pay for the renovations and appliances.” “It’s about $50,000.” Chloe instantly exploded. “What?! Fifty thousand?” “Ethan, are you insane? Where would my family get fifty thousand?” “Besides, I’m marrying you, not buying you! You want my family to pay for renovations? In your dreams!” She slammed the contract onto the floor and pointed her finger at my face. “I’m telling you, not a single penny! You will renovate this house beautifully for me, and you will buy me a BMW as a wedding gift!” “Otherwise, the wedding is off!” She finally said it. That was exactly what I was waiting for. Slowly, I took out the copy of the agreement from my briefcase. Along with a thick stack of printed chat records. And photos of her kissing the Yale PhD in front of the hotel. I had hired a private investigator to take those. “Wedding off? Perfect.” “I was thinking the exact same thing.” “Chloe, since you called off the wedding, let’s follow the agreement.” I threw the stack of papers onto the coffee table. “The $200,000 down payment, plus the $30,000 I spent on your designer bags and watches over the past few years.” “Plus interest.” “Total of $240,000.” “Wire it to my account within three days.” “Or I’ll see you in court.”

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My mom has severe mobility issues, so I hired a nanny to look after her. But my mom kept insisting that the nanny was verbally abusing her and stealing her money. I installed security cameras all over the house, but the footage only showed my mom screaming like a lunatic at a silent nanny. Because of this, I had several huge fights with her. The nanny, Martha, looked incredibly hurt every time: “If it weren’t out of respect for you, Claire, I would have quit months ago!” But I started to wonder… if she was suffering so much in our house, why did she refuse to quit? *** **1** My mom sneered when she heard Martha’s tearful words. “Oh, cut the act, Martha!” “Claire, listen to me. I might be old, but I am not losing my mind!” “Fire her! Right now!” I was drowning in a major project at work, my husband, David, was out of town on business, and I had already left our kid with my mother-in-law. I literally had zero time or energy to take care of her myself. “Mom, this is the fourteenth nanny we’ve had! If we fire her, the agency won’t even send us anyone else!” “I checked the cameras, Mom. Martha didn’t say a single word. Can you please stop making a scene?” Maybe it was because I was so stressed lately, but I snapped. My voice was sharp, and I even had stress ulcers in my mouth. Seeing my exhausted state, my mom’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. Once you’re old, you’re just a burden to everyone.” I rolled my eyes, walked out of her room, and turned to Martha. “I’m so sorry, Martha. My mom has a terrible temper. Thanks for putting up with her.” I pulled out a $100 Target gift card that my company had given me and slipped it into her hand. “Take this. Get yourself some treats on your day off. Please, just hang in there for me.” Martha sighed and took the card. “Claire, honestly, if I didn’t see how hard you work, I would have… well, never mind. It’s my job, after all.” “Oh, by the way, I made some organic honey grapefruit tea. You should take a jar home. It’s great for stress.” Martha took a glass jar from the fridge. She insisted I take it. Before leaving, I looked back at my mom’s room. “Mom, I’m heading out. Call me if you need anything.” My mom just waved her hand dismissively, not even looking at me. As soon as I got into my car, I opened the security app on my phone. The live feed showed Martha kneeling on the floor, massaging my mom’s feet. “Helen,” Martha said on screen, her voice gentle. “You’re older than me, but you have to understand your kids have it hard. You keep calling Claire back home every two days. I know you miss her, but she has a career to focus on.” My heart ached when I heard that. It was true. I had been chasing this client for three months. It was the peak of my busy season. But at the same time, my mom’s diabetes complications had left her bound to a wheelchair. I was desperate, which was why I had gone through fourteen nannies. Her temper had only gotten worse since she got sick. Martha was the only one who had lasted. She had been with us for six months now. I sighed. But suddenly, my mom’s sharp scream pierced through my phone speaker. “You’re mocking me again! You psycho! Get away from me! Get away!” “Let go of me! It hurts! Claire, look at her! She’s stabbing me!” I quickly rewound the footage. But Martha’s mouth hadn’t moved at all! There was no sound of abuse on the recording, yet my mom was screaming in terror. She shoved Martha away, causing Martha to stumble onto the floor. Martha looked up with tears in her eyes. “Helen, I know you don’t like me, but I’ll stop talking, okay?” “Just please don’t stress Claire out. She’s so busy.” “Get out of here! You snake!” I couldn’t watch it anymore. I wanted to yell at my mom through the camera’s speaker, but I stopped myself. Just then, my coworker leaned over my desk, seeing my miserable face. She tapped my shoulder. “Is your mom throwing another tantrum?” “Yeah. She keeps saying the nanny is abusing her. I installed cameras, but they show absolutely nothing. She was never like this before.” “Maybe you should get her evaluated for Alzheimer’s? I heard sudden personality changes and paranoia are early signs of dementia.” Her words made me freeze. It was true. Ever since my mom lost her mobility, she had become a completely different person. I thought it was just because of her illness, but could there be another reason? After finishing my shift, I went back to my own apartment. I didn’t go to my mom’s place because I was just too exhausted. I wanted to get one day of rest and visit her the next morning. But that night, my phone rang. It was my mom, sobbing. “Claire, come quick! She’s doing it again!” *** **2** I jumped out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and rushed to my car. When I parked downstairs at my mom’s place, I instinctively opened the security app to check the playback. The footage showed Martha bringing a basin of warm water to wash my mom’s feet. But out of nowhere, my mom suddenly started screaming obscenities at her and kicked the basin over, splashing water everywhere. My head throbbed. I went upstairs, unlocked the door, and walked in. Martha was on her knees, drying the hardwood floor with a towel. Seeing me, she let out a long sigh. “Claire, I think Helen’s mental state is deteriorating. You really need to take her to a neurologist.” My mom went ballistic. “You liar! You fake bitch! How dare you frame me!” “Claire, she—” “Enough, Mom! I am exhausted!” My head was pounding so hard I felt sick. I had never felt this level of frustration before. “Why do you keep doing this? We’ve gone through fourteen nannies! Are you trying to drive everyone away?” “Do you have any idea how hard my life is right now?” My mom gasped, staring at me in shock, unable to speak. Martha stood beside her, looking deeply hurt. “Helen, I’ve told you a hundred times, I never said those things. If you keep doing this, I’m going to lose my mind!” Hearing this, my mom lost it. She furiously rolled up her sleeves. “Look! She doesn’t just abuse me, she stabs me!” She grabbed my hand. “Claire, I raised you. I’m your mother. Do you really not believe me?” I sighed, completely drained. “Mom, if you really believe that, let’s just call the police.” My mom choked. “The police?” Martha stepped in. “Actually, let me call them. I don’t want Helen to think I have something to hide, and I don’t want you caught in the middle, Claire.” Martha pulled out her phone and dialed 911 right in front of us. My mom sneered. “Fine! Call them! Let’s see how long you can keep up this act!” I watched Martha’s face closely. There wasn’t a single trace of panic. Ten minutes later, two police officers arrived. My mom immediately told them that Martha was abusing her and stabbing her with needles. “Look at my arms! Look at these marks!” I leaned in to look. Indeed, there were tiny, red, swollen puncture wounds on her arms. Martha calmly spoke to the officers. “Sir, nanny agencies have strict rules against carrying sharp objects. I was fully vetted. I have no idea why she is accusing me of this. You are welcome to check the security cameras.” I nodded and showed the officers the footage. There was absolutely no sound of Martha speaking, let alone abusing her. My mom was shaking with rage. “You’re all in on this! Get out! All of you, get out of my house!” One of the officers looked at my mom, his face serious. “Ma’am, if you call us out here for a false report again, we will have to take legal action.” My mom froze. “What?” “Filing a false police report is a crime.” The officer then turned to me. “Does your mother have a history of mental illness? You should really get her checked out.” I was mortified. I apologized profusely, escorted the officers out, and turned to apologize to Martha. Martha patted my shoulder gently. “It’s okay, Claire. Before I took this job, the agency told me your mom was difficult. But you’re around my daughter’s age, so I understand.” “Taking care of parents is just a heavy cross we have to bear.” My mom screamed from her room, “Shut up, you witch!” Martha shook her head. “I’ll ignore that.” I couldn’t control my anger anymore and turned to my mom. “Mom, stop it! I’m working overtime, sleeping three hours a day, and you’re pulling this crap? Look at me! I look like a corpse! I beg you, just stop!” *** **3** I threw my hands up in defeat. My mom took a deep, shaky breath, slowly turned her wheelchair around, and rolled into her bedroom without saying another word. I wondered if I had hurt her feelings, but I literally had nothing left in me to comfort her. I asked Martha to keep an eye on her, and since I couldn’t bear the thought of driving back to my place, I went into the guest bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Right before I drifted off, a thought popped into my head. I pulled out my phone and opened the camera app. I watched the footage again, frame by frame, zoomed in. Martha’s lips definitely did not move. Yet, my mom’s physical reaction—the way she flinched and screamed—was extremely genuine. My mom was a gentle, sweet woman before she got sick. She wouldn’t act like this for no reason. And those puncture wounds on her arms were real. But Martha didn’t have any needles in her bags. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Finally, I opened Amazon and ordered a few hidden spy cameras. The next morning, I took a sick day from work. I sent Martha out to the grocery store, and while she was gone, I hidden-installed the cameras all over the house. I even attached a tiny button-sized spy camera to one of my mom’s cardigans. My mom watched me do this, looking confused. “Claire?” “Mom, I want to protect you. But you have to cooperate with me. Tell me the absolute truth—what is going on?” “I couldn’t find any evidence before. If you’re telling the truth, I won’t let anyone hurt you. But I can’t accuse someone without proof.” My mom looked incredibly vulnerable. “She really does abuse me, Claire. But her mouth doesn’t move. The voice… it just comes out of her.” I stared at her, stunned. Later that afternoon, I drove to the agency, *Joyful Care*, bringing a box of expensive donuts. The manager, Leonard, recognized me immediately and smiled. “Hey, Claire! Are we looking for nanny number fifteen?” I shook my head. “Actually, no. I’m here to thank you for sending Martha. She’s been a lifesaver.” “My mom’s mind has been a bit fuzzy lately, and she’s been giving Martha a hard time. I just wanted to make sure Martha feels appreciated.” “I’m sure you’ve heard about the police incident.” Leonard waved his hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s part of the job. You shouldn’t feel guilty.” “By the way, what does Martha like? I want to get her a nice gift, maybe send her and my mom on a small day trip to get them out of the house.” Hearing this, Leonard let his guard down completely and started chatting away, telling me all about Martha’s background and habits. When I walked out of the agency, my hands were clenched into tight fists. I ran to my car and sped back home. Halfway there, my phone buzzed. It was a video from Martha. She was in the kitchen making apple pies, while my mom was yelling in the background. *“Are you coming home for dinner, Claire? I’m baking pies,”* Martha’s text read. In the video, my mom’s eyes were bloodshot. “My daughter will destroy you when she finds out!” Then, Martha walked closer to my mom. Her back was completely blocking the main security camera. The audio on the main feed was silent. But the tiny button camera on my mom’s cardigan captured everything crystal clear: “You old piece of trash. Keep crying. Let’s see if anyone believes you.” “You think complaining to your daughter will save you? You called the cops, and they almost locked *you* up. You’re a useless, paralyzed waste of space.” Hearing those words, I almost blacked out from rage. That psychopath! She had fooled us all! On screen, Martha suddenly shoved my mom into the bathroom. My mom let out a blood-curdling scream! Through the hidden camera, I saw Martha pull something small and sharp from her pocket and viciously jab it into my mom’s mouth!

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My biological mother thought my six-year-old self was a drag on her chances of marrying into a wealthy estate. So, she dumped me under a highway overpass. To get a bite of food, I grabbed the leg of a passing street punk and wouldn’t let go. “Hey, big brother, your boots are dirty. Let me wipe them for you.” “Hey, big brother, are you thirsty? I can go steal some water for you.” A bunch of street punks looked down at me. “Damn, this kid knows how to hustle. Fine, let’s keep her. She’s our little sister now.” From that day on, I had twelve gangster brothers. They never taught me any grand life philosophies. They only taught me one thing: if someone bullies you, beat them to a pulp. Because of this, in twelve years, my twelve brothers had never actually been in the same room together. Either one was doing time for breaking someone’s leg, or another was locked up for cracking someone’s ribs. But against all odds, I studied hard, got into college, and became the only university student from our run-down neighborhood. Yet, on the very first day of classes, my roommate lost her luxury necklace and pointed the finger straight at me. Our academic advisor, the dorm supervisor, and the roommate’s rich parents marched right to my place, demanding to search it. I blocked the doorway. “Can we please just resolve this at the school office?” The roommate’s mother shoved me aside. “Guilty conscience, huh? I want to see exactly what kind of trashy home breeds a thief!”

I stood at the door of my off-campus place, looking at Mrs. Miller, our academic advisor, who had her usual “just-following-protocol” face. Behind her stood a middle-aged couple practically dripping in designer labels, and Chloe, my roommate, leaning against the hallway wall with a smug smirk. “May,” Mrs. Miller said, adjusting her glasses. “If you really have nothing to hide, you should let us and Chloe’s parents take a look inside. It’s the best way to clear your name.” Chloe’s mother sneered at me, scanning me from head to toe before her eyes settled on my faded, worn-out canvas sneakers. She let out a loud, dramatic sigh. Chloe stepped forward, lowering her voice, but making sure everyone in the hallway could hear: “May, you could barely afford the tuition deposit, right? I heard you’re only here on financial aid. With your background, who else would steal my four-thousand-dollar Tiffany necklace? Who’s going to believe you?” I ignored her and looked straight at Mrs. Miller. “Mrs. Miller, can we please just handle this through the campus board?” “Why are you so scared?” Chloe’s father took a step forward. He had a massive gold pinky ring and pointed his finger right in my face. “My daughter’s necklace is the latest Tiffany collection! Four grand! If it wasn’t you, then who? We are searching your place today. I want to see what kind of trashy family raises a thief!” Chloe laughed out loud beside him. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s go.” As we walked out of the campus gates, Chloe kept pace right next to me, her high heels clicking loudly on the pavement. “May, do you even know who bought me that necklace? My boyfriend. The one who drives the Mercedes,” she said, tossing her hair. “Honestly, you’re not ugly. Why do you do stuff like this? Why not just find a guy to take care of you? What’s the point of finishing college if you’re just going to be broke forever?” I stopped and turned to look at her. “Was that Mercedes rented or borrowed?” I asked flatly. “Because last week, I saw him riding a rental scooter outside the gate.” Chloe’s face went rigid. Her mother overheard and immediately rushed over. “How dare you speak to my daughter like that! Chloe’s boyfriend is in business! What does a charity-case student like you know about anything?!” I didn’t reply. I just kept walking. But my mind drifted back to my twelve brothers. When I was six, my birth mother, Eleanor, abandoned me under a highway overpass because I was getting in the way of her marrying a rich guy. She left me with twenty dollars and never looked back. I huddled under that overpass for two days, dizzy with hunger. Then, I saw a crew of guys walking down the alley. The leader had bleached blonde hair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and walked like he owned the streets. I was tiny, but I had survival instincts. I rushed out and wrapped my arms around his leg. “Hey, big brother, your boots are dirty. Let me wipe them for you.” “Hey, big brother, are you thirsty? I can go steal some water for you.” The crew looked down at me. “Kid’s got game,” the blonde guy said, spitting out his cigarette. “Fine, we’re keeping her. She’s our little sister now.” From that day on, I had twelve brothers. The oldest was Jax, the blonde leader. The second was Leo, the big guy with a scar across his face. The third was Blade, skinny as a rail. The fourth was Hammer, the one with fists like iron. All the way down to the twelfth, whom we called Gizmo. He picked the name himself, saying a weird street name keeps you safe. They never taught me morals. They only taught me one rule: *If anyone messes with you, let your fists do the talking.* So, for twelve years, the twelve of them were never all together. Someone was always in county jail for breaking a collarbone or cracking a rib. But they loved me fiercely. When I was a kid, we were dirt poor. We lived in a rundown trailer park that leaked rain in the summer and let in freezing wind in the winter. But my plate always had the best cuts of meat, scooped out of my brothers’ own bowls. When I was seven, a boy at school cut a chunk of my hair off and mocked me for having no parents. I didn’t cry. I didn’t say a word when I got home. But Jax somehow found out. The next day, that boy showed up to school with a completely shaved head, crying his eyes out all day. When the teacher asked who did it, the boy just whimpered that someone had pinned him down in the bathroom with a razor. When I asked Jax about it, he was eating instant ramen and didn’t even look up. “What? I was at the internet cafe all night. Don’t look at me.”

But I saw the electric clippers tucked in his back pocket. When I was eight, a local creep tried to touch my face in the alley. Again, I said nothing. But the next day, that creep was kneeling in front of our porch, his face swollen like a balloon, begging for my forgiveness. Blade was leaning against the wall, smoking. He smiled when he saw me. “Hey, sis. This guy wanted to apologize, so we helped him find his manners.” Later, I found out Blade had taken on that creep and four of his friends by himself. Blade spent two weeks in the hospital, but when he came home, he brought me a cheap hair clip. “Got it from a street vendor for two bucks. Don’t hate it,” he grunted. I still have that clip. … “May! Why are you walking so fast? Guilty conscience?” Chloe’s voice snapped me back to reality. She jogged up to match my pace, a smug smile plastered on her face. “Are you scared of us seeing how you live? I heard the area you live in is basically a slum. Are you renting some sketchy room? Or do you live with your weird relatives?” I ignored her. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out and saw a text from Gizmo, my youngest brother. *“Hey sis, how was orientation? Get your butt home quick, the guys put together a huge surprise for you!”* A surprise. My palms started sweating. I knew exactly what their “surprises” looked like. The day I finished my high school exams, they said they had a surprise. I ran home excited, only to find a guy kneeling on our living room floor. It was a bully from the high school next door who used to corner me for lunch money. My brothers had handled him before, but that day, he was black and blue, sobbing. “I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again! Please tell your brothers to let me go…” Jax was sitting on a lawn chair, eating watermelon. He tossed the rind aside when he saw me. “Sis, this guy wanted to apologize face-to-face. We just facilitated. You satisfied? If not, I can make him kneel a bit longer.” What was I supposed to say? So, seeing the word “surprise” now made my heart race. Chloe leaned over to peep at my screen before I could lock it. “Ooh, who’s texting you?” she sneered. “Some street trash boyfriend? Figures. With your background, you’d only attract lowlifes.” I shoved the phone into my pocket and remained silent. She leaned in closer, whispering, but loud enough for Mrs. Miller and her parents to hear. “May, are you embarrassed of your home? Don’t worry, being poor isn’t a crime.” She tossed her hair. “But stealing is. That necklace is four grand. You can’t even pay your tuition—how are you going to pay me back? If you hand it over now, we can settle this privately. Otherwise, once we search your place and find it, I’m calling the cops.” I stopped walking. “I didn’t take it.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Sure, you didn’t. Let’s see what you say when we find it.” Her mother caught up and grabbed my arm tightly. “Why are you stopping? Trying to run?” “I’m not running,” I said, trying to pull away. “Not running?” Her mother gripped harder, her sharp acrylic nails digging painfully into my skin. “You look like you’re about to bolt! We should hold her down, otherwise, she’ll run for sure!”

Chloe chimed in immediately, “Yes! Hold her!” Mrs. Miller turned around, frowning, but she didn’t stop them. Chloe’s father walked over. “Mrs. Miller, I agree. If she runs, who pays for the four-thousand-dollar necklace? We need to secure her.” Mrs. Miller hesitated, then nodded. “May, just cooperate for now. It’s for everyone’s peace of mind.” Chloe’s mother pulled a nylon strap from her designer bag, trying to bind my wrists. I violently yanked my arm back. “Back off.” Chloe’s mother gasped. Chloe froze. Mrs. Miller’s frown deepened. “May! Show some respect to your elders!” “I said, back off,” I glared at them. “I didn’t steal anything. You have no right to bind me.” Chloe’s father lunged forward to grab me. I dodged. Chloe sneered, “May, you want to fight? I can get you arrested for assault!” “Go ahead,” I spat, staring her down. Her father lunged again. I raised my hand to block, and somehow, my fist connected squarely with his jaw. Honestly, I don’t even know how I threw that punch. Maybe it was the muscle memory from the self-defense moves my brothers drilled into me, or maybe I was just pushed to my limit. Chloe’s father groaned, stumbling back against the brick wall. “You struck my husband!” Chloe’s mother shrieked, throwing herself at me and grabbing my hair. Chloe joined in, clawing at me. Mrs. Miller was shouting “Stop it! Stop it!” from the sidelines, but no one listened. I was pinned to the gravel ground. My scalp burned from being pulled, and I took a couple of hits to the face. During the scuffle, something slipped out of my pocket and clattered onto the concrete. It was a jade amulet. A pale green piece, carved in the shape of a little rabbit. Blade had given it to me. On my thirteenth birthday, Blade had just gotten out of county jail after a three-month stretch for protecting his crew. He was visibly thinner, but he smiled when he saw me and pulled this amulet from his pocket. “Happy birthday, sis.” When I asked where he got it, he just told me not to worry about it, that it was a good piece. Later, Jax told me Blade had taken it from some rich prick who tried to hustle their crew. The guy used the jade to buy his way out of a beating. Jax said it was worth a lot of money and told me to keep it safe. I had kept it close to my chest for years. I never took it off. Chloe snatched the jade off the ground. “What’s this?” She turned it over, her eyes lighting up. “Mom, look! This is real jade!” Her mother leaned in, and the two whispered frantically. Then Chloe looked up at me, triumphant. “May, you can’t even afford college. Where did you get a piece of jade like this? This is worth thousands! You definitely stole this from somewhere!”

“Give it back!” I scrambled up from the ground, reaching for it. Chloe held it high, stepping back. “You dare try to steal it back?” Her mother shoved me away. “This is clearly stolen property! We’re giving this to the police!” “Give it back!” I lunged, grabbing for the amulet. In the chaotic struggle, there was a sharp, sickening *crack*. The jade flew out of Chloe’s hand, smashed against the brick wall, and fell to the pavement. It shattered. It broke into several pieces. The little carved rabbit split right down the middle. I froze. Chloe froze too. Then she shrugged. “Whatever. It was stolen anyway. Let’s go to your place. I want to see what else you’ve hidden.” I knelt down, carefully picking up the broken shards of jade, cradling them in my palm. My eyes stung. But I didn’t cry. My brothers told me: *Our family doesn’t cry.* I tucked the shards into my pocket, stood up, and kept walking. Chloe muttered behind me, telling her mom I was definitely a serial thief. I ignored them. After a ten-minute walk, we reached the trailer park at the edge of the city. The alleyways were narrow, littered, and overhead wires hung like chaotic spiderwebs. Chloe laughed out loud. “May, you actually live here? Is this even fit for humans?” Her mother covered her nose. “Ugh, what is that smell? Disgusting!” Chloe’s father, nursing his bruised jaw, sneered, “No wonder she’s a thief. Growing up in a dump like this, how else would she survive?” Mrs. Miller pinched her nose but remained quiet. I walked up to our rusty metal gate. Chloe nudged me. “What are you waiting for? Open it! Let’s see your little rat hole.” Her mother added, “Yes, open it! Get your parents out here! I want to see who raised a brat like you!” I pulled out my keys, my hands trembling slightly. Not out of fear. But because I could see shadows moving through the cracks of the door. There were voices. More than one person was home. I pushed the door open. And I stopped dead in my tracks. Sitting in the living room was a massive circle of men. Twelve of them. Every single one was there. Jax, the oldest, still had his bleached hair, but today it was neatly combed. He wore a brand-new T-shirt and actually looked presentable. Leo, the second, still had his facial scar, but he had squeezed into a buttoned-up white shirt, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Blade, skinny as ever, sat upright, smiling the moment he saw me. Hammer, the fourth, sat with his hands on his knees, posture perfectly straight. The fifth, the sixth, the seventh… All the way to Gizmo, who had actually washed his hair and slicked it back with so much gel a fly would slip off it. On the table in front of them sat a massive cake. Written on it in clumsy frosting was: *Congrats on College, Sis!* Jax was the first to stand up, smiling as he walked toward me. “May, you’re back! We were waiting for you. It’s your birthday, so we all chipped in and got a—” He stopped mid-sentence. He saw the people behind me. He saw the red marks on my face. He saw my messy hair, my dirty clothes, and the mud on my sleeves. The smile vanished from Jax’s face. Leo stood up. Blade stood up. Hammer stood up. One by one, all twelve of them stood up. Behind her mother, Chloe whispered, “Who are these guys? May’s relatives?”

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My mom told me my dad had terminal lung cancer, and his treatment would cost $500,000. So, I dropped out of middle school and went to work in an illegal, underground sweatshop. I got paid ten cents for every part I assembled. I worked sixteen hours a day. For the sake of my dad’s life, I didn’t dare to stop for even a second. But on my sixteenth birthday, I ran a dangerously high fever. Clutching a ten-dollar bill I had secretly saved, I wanted to slip out to a local clinic. My mom ripped the bill right out of my hand. “Stop being so dramatic! Just drink some hot water and get back to work. Taking half a day off means losing your attendance bonus!” So, I dragged my shivering, burning body back to the assembly line. Until a bank notification popped up on my phone screen: *“Your account ending in 8888 has transferred $50,000 to Hunter. Memo: Down payment for son’s new townhouse.”* I froze. Then, my mind flashed to my dad’s rosy, healthy cheeks. And my brother Hunter’s brand-new truck and expensive Yeezys. ###

My heart went completely, utterly cold. Late that night, I crawled out of the sweatshop’s moldy dorm. An agent stopped me in the alley and asked if I wanted to make real money. Free housing, free meals, and $25,000 a month. My brain was foggy from the fever, but I still muttered out of instinct, “How much is the agency fee?” He stared at me, shocked, and said, “No fee. Actually, I’ll give you a $300 advance right now.” I took the cash and, without a single shred of hesitation, stepped onto the bus heading toward the border. I squeezed the three hundred dollars tightly in my hand. This was the first time in my entire life that I actually held money that belonged to me. Before this, my paycheck was automatically routed to my mom’s bank account the second it hit my card. The bald man sitting next to me, Frank, kept eyeing me up and down with a greasy, creepy smile. “Hey kid, you look pretty young. What’s a girl like you going to a place across the border for?” I ignored him, burying the cash deeper into my jacket pocket. “That place eats people alive,” Frank muttered, leaning in. “Once you cross over, your life isn’t yours anymore.” I wasn’t afraid of dying. In fact, that place sounded like heaven to me. Because the agent said they provided free food and housing. I wouldn’t have to drink tap water to fool my stomach just to save fifty cents on a piece of bread. I wouldn’t have to collect plastic bottles in the freezing winter in thin canvas shoes just to buy my brother limited-edition sneakers. “We’re here,” the driver barked, slamming on the brakes. The metal door rattled open. In front of us was a towering barbed-wire fence. A few heavily tattooed men carrying rifles walked toward the bus. The passengers started panicking. Some cried; some wanted to turn back. Only I stood up quietly. I was the first one to step off the bus. The smuggler in charge was a guy with a nasty scar across his face. People called him Scarface Nick. He gave me a surprised look. “You aren’t scared?” I shook my head. I flashed the three hundred dollars in my hand and tucked it back. “I took the money. I’ll do the work.” Nick smirked. It was the kind of look a merchant gave to a cheap piece of cargo. “Great. I love the ones who know their place. Take her to Zone C.” Zone C. Even though I had never been here, I had heard the whispered rumors on the bus. That was the holding pen for the “hostages.” If you didn’t meet your quota, you were beaten, forced to sell your blood, or worse—harvested. I was shoved into a damp, mold-smelling room. There were only a few filthy, stained mats on the concrete floor. A terribly thin girl, Lily, shivered in the corner. She looked at me with terror-filled eyes. “Run… run while the gate is still open…” she whispered, pointing a trembling finger at a small, half-welded window. I walked over, looked out at the pitch-black jungle outside, and then shut the window tightly. I lay down in a corner. “I’m not running.” Why would I go back? To keep earning medical bills for a father who faked cancer? To keep buying houses and cars for a brother who did nothing but drain my blood? To listen to my mother scream at me about how I was a useless, worthless daughter? My fever was still raging, making my skin burn. Before my consciousness drifted away, I touched the cheap phone in my pocket. There was a scheduled text message I had drafted a long time ago but never dared to send. Now, I could finally send it. ###

Meanwhile, inside the family’s newly purchased luxury apartment, the lights were bright. The dining table was piled high with ordered lobster and premium ribeye steaks. Hunter chewed on a lobster claw, impatiently tapping the table. “Mom! When is the rest of the renovation money coming? The designer said we still need ten grand for the custom furniture!” “Why hasn’t Chloe’s salary been deposited yet?” The “Chloe” he was talking about was me—his younger sister, who was currently working herself to the bone in a sweatshop. My mom, Brenda, wiped the grease from her mouth, her forehead creasing into a deep frown. She unlocked her phone and checked her banking app. It was empty. “That little brat is losing her mind!” Brenda slammed her phone onto the table. “Today is payday. Her money is usually in my account by now.” “Is she slacking off again? Just because I took ten dollars from her last time, she dares to throw a tantrum?” Sitting at the head of the table was my dad, Arthur. He looked completely healthy, his face flushed red as he poured himself another glass of expensive Bourbon. Did he look like someone with terminal lung cancer? Not even close. He let out a loud burp and waved his hand dismissively. “Call her! Is she trying to quit?” “If she doesn’t want to work, bring her back and marry her off! The creepy old landlord down the road offered $30,000 for her. That’s enough to buy Hunter a private parking space.” Brenda immediately dialed my number. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off…” Hearing the automated voice, Brenda’s temper flared instantly. “She turned off her phone? How dare she!” She immediately called the manager of the sweatshop—her distant cousin, who was paid to keep an eye on me. As soon as the call connected, loud machine noises and angry shouting echoed through the speaker. “Brenda! I was just about to call you!” “Your girl ran away!” Brenda froze. Her mind went blank. “Ran… ran away?” She looked out the window at the dark night, murmuring, “It’s the middle of the night. Where could a young girl go? The streets are so dangerous… what if she runs into bad people?” “Mom! What the hell are you thinking about?” Hunter slammed his fork onto the plate, violently cutting off Brenda’s tiny shred of motherly instinct. “If she ran away, what about my house renovations? What about my parking spot?” “If she actually cared about this family, why would she run? She’s just selfish! She wants to keep all her money for herself!” With that roar, the last bit of worry on Brenda’s face vanished. It was replaced by a furious sense of betrayal and panic over losing her cash cow. Yes. If her daughter ran away, who would pay for her son’s lifestyle? Worry? How much was that worth? Arthur’s face darkened too. He slammed his glass down, a vicious glint in his eyes. “Find her! We must bring her back!” “I don’t care if she’s dead or alive, as long as she’s breathing, drag her back to work!” “If she refuses, we’ll pack her off to that landlord immediately. Not a single penny of that thirty thousand can be missing!” Brenda spat, her chest heaving with rage. She gritted her teeth and dialed 911. “Dispatcher? I want to report a theft!” “My daughter stole $50,000 from our home and ran off with some guy!” “Go arrest her! She’s been a thief since she was a kid. She’s evil to the core!” To force the police to act, and to drag back the daughter who dared to escape her cage, she effortlessly threw the filthiest lie onto her own child. ###

At the police station. Officer Miller, an experienced cop, frowned as he looked at the couple sitting across from him, both dressed in flashy, expensive clothes. Brenda was still throwing a hysterical fit. “Officer! Why are you guys so slow?” “It’s been two hours! Why haven’t you caught that little brat yet?” “That’s fifty thousand dollars! That’s my husband’s life-saving money!” Arthur chimed in, clutching his chest and coughing weakly. “Yes… I have terminal lung cancer. I need that money for my surgery…” Officer Miller threw a folder onto the table with a cold stare. “Terminal lung cancer?” “Arthur, this is your medical report from the general hospital last month.” “Aside from a slightly fatty liver and mild high blood pressure, you are as strong as an ox. Your lungs are perfectly clear. Not even a single spot. Care to explain your ‘terminal cancer’?” Arthur’s face stiffened, his eyes darting around. “That… that was a misdiagnosis! The first doctor told me it was cancer…” “Enough!” Miller slammed his hand on the desk. The loud bang made Hunter drop his phone. “We checked Chloe’s bank statements.” “Every single payday, her entire check was instantly transferred to an account under the name of Hunter. Is this what you call ‘theft’?” “Also, we just raided that illegal sweatshop.” Miller turned his screen around, showing several shocking photos. A dark, damp workshop, piles of heavy metal parts, and a wooden cot with nothing but a thin, torn sheet. On the small crate next to the bed sat a half-eaten jar of cheap pickles and a pack of the cheapest painkillers. “This is where your daughter lived?” “Her coworkers said she worked sixteen hours a day. She didn’t even dare to take a sick day when she had a 104-degree fever.” “Because she believed her dad was dying and needed the money.” Miller’s voice shook with suppressed fury. “You took the blood money she earned with her life to eat steaks, buy luxury apartments, and drive trucks.” “Yet you lied to her that her father had a terminal illness just to force her to slave away for you?” “Are you people even human?!” The interrogation room fell dead silent. A young female cop standing next to Miller, Officer Avery, had red eyes, glaring at the three of them with pure disgust. Brenda’s face flushed red, then turned pale. But she quickly raised her chin defensively. “So what? I’m her mother! I gave birth to her and raised her. She owes me!” “Besides, we only lied to give her some motivation to work hard!” “Young people today are lazy. If you don’t push them, they’ll never know their potential!” Hunter muttered under his breath, “Exactly. I’m the son, the one who carries the family name. It’s her duty to support me.” “Officer, stop lecturing us and just find her. Since she left, there’s no one to clean the house.” Miller’s hands were shaking with rage. He had been a cop for twenty years. He had seen bad people, but he had never seen parents this vile. Just then, a tech officer burst into the room, his face completely pale. “Captain! We tracked her!” “Chloe’s phone signal pinged one last time near the southern border!” “And… the border patrol cameras caught the bus she boarded last night.” “It belongs to Scarface Nick. He’s a notorious cartel smuggler who takes captives to the lawless compounds across the border!” “What?!” Miller stood up so fast his chair screeched against the floor. Brenda and Arthur looked completely clueless. “Across the border? Like a vacation? How did that brat have money for a trip?” Hunter, however, realized what it meant. His face drained of all color. He spent all his time online. He knew exactly what those cartel compounds were. “Mom… that’s… that’s where they run scams and harvest organs…” “Once you go in, you never come out.” Brenda froze, the color slowly leaving her face. “Har… harvest what?” she stammered. “But… people die there! Why would she go to a place like that…” Terror washed over her, but then she shrieked, “That stupid girl! She must have been blinded by the high pay they promised! She got scammed! What does that have to do with me?” “I gave her food and clothes! She walked into that hellhole herself! She’s doing this to punish us! Even if she dies out there, she brought it on herself!” ###

Arthur panicked too. He gripped the edge of the table, his lips trembling. “Officer, you must have made a mistake. She’s usually too scared to even walk down a dark street. How could she cross the border? What if… what if she really doesn’t come back…” But he quickly straightened his back, coughing to cover his fear. “Hmph! Maybe a little suffering will do her some good! Kids today think they’re so tough. Once she gets beaten up out there, she’ll realize how good she had it at home!” “I bet she went to that dangerous place on purpose just to scare us and make us beg her to come back! No way!” … In the briefing room of the Border Police Station. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. The family had been brought here overnight. Officer Miller threw a freshly intercepted video onto the table in front of them. “Take a look.” “This was sent by an informant across the border. It shows the group of captives smuggled in yesterday.” The video was blurry and shaky. The background showed a dark, thick jungle and armed guards holding rifles. A group of exhausted, thin people were being forced off a truck like cattle. In the corner, a small, frail figure stood out. She was wearing a faded school hoodie, clutching a small bottle of water. Though her face was blurry, Brenda recognized her instantly. It was Chloe. The daughter who always kept her head down at home and never dared to speak loudly. In the video, a muscular guard was whipping a man who walked too slowly. The sound of the whip hitting bare skin made everyone in the room shudder. “Officer! Can… can you still save her?” Arthur finally lost his composure. “I don’t need the treatment anymore… I don’t want the money! Just bring her back to work on the farm! That place looks like a death trap!” Miller looked at him with sheer disgust. “Save her? That is a lawless wasteland controlled by ruthless cartel syndicates.” “Going in there is a death sentence.” “And according to our intel, this batch of people was bought to be ‘blood bags’ and ‘donors’.” “Donors?” Hunter squeaked. “Living organ donors,” Officer Avery added coldly. “They drain your blood, take your corneas, and harvest your organs until there’s nothing left of you. That is the place you forced her into.” “She literally sold herself to raise the surgery money for a father who faked cancer.” “According to the smuggler we arrested, right before she crossed, she was still asking if she could get a $50,000 advance on her salary.” “Because her mother told her that her dad’s surgery was still $50,000 short.” At that moment, the last bit of color drained from the family’s faces. Brenda slumped into her chair, her lips shivering. “I… I just said that randomly…” “I just wanted her to make more money… I didn’t want her to die!” Suddenly, Brenda lunged forward, grabbing Miller’s sleeve so hard her nails tore into the fabric. She screamed hysterically: “Officer! You’re a cop! You have to save her! She went there to save her father’s life! We lied to her… we ruined her!” “Please, go save her! If you’re too late… Chloe will be gone forever!” Miller coldly pushed her hand away. “You’re crying now? It’s too late.” *Ding.* Suddenly, Brenda’s phone lit up on the table. A scheduled text message from Chloe popped up on the screen: *“Mom, the boss gave me an advance of $50,000. Dad can have his surgery now. Don’t worry about me.”* Those few words felt like a red-hot iron branding Brenda’s eyes. She shrieked in pain, and the phone clattered to the floor. Arthur stared at the message, then raised his hand and slammed a hard slap across his own face, letting out a guttural, animal-like sob. Just then, the border patrol radio crackled to life. Through the static, a tense voice came through. “Report! We have an update from the border!” “The cartel compound’s weapons depot just exploded!” “It triggered a massive chain of explosions and a raging fire! The entire compound is swallowed in flames!” “No survivors!” “While clearing the perimeter, we recovered a charred backpack.” “Inside was an ID card. The name is… Chloe.”

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In my past life, my daughter, Chloe, knew exactly how terrified I was of snakes. Yet, she still bought one and kept it in our house. She’d watch me jump around in sheer terror, a mocking smirk plastered across her face. My husband, Leo, just stood by and watched with cold eyes. He even claimed we needed to “respect our child’s hobbies.” He eventually snuck the snake into the bathroom while I was showering, calling it “exposure therapy” to help me get over my phobia. In a blind panic, I tried to escape through the window, slipped, and fell to my death from the sixth floor. In this life, I don’t want Leo or Chloe anymore. “Hey? Hey? Mom, can you hear me? I said I have a huge surprise for you!” Chloe’s voice through the receiver made me realize I had been reborn. I gripped my phone, my entire body trembling. In my previous life, Chloe had used this exact same cheerful, innocent tone to urge me to come home. The moment I opened the front door, a snake was waiting for me. I’ve always had a paralyzing phobia of snakes. Just looking at a photo of one would make me break out in a cold sweat. But in that moment, a real, live snake was hissing and flicking its tongue right in front of me. I couldn’t control my screams. I begged Chloe to take it away. But she just looked at me with those innocent eyes and said, “Mom, this is my new pet. You have to be nice to it from now on!” With that, she walked toward me, holding the snake in her bare hands. My legs went completely weak. The gourmet cake I had bought for her slipped from my hands and smashed all over the floor. Chloe rushed over, her face falling. “Mom! How could you be so careless? You ruined my cake!” She pouted, on the verge of tears. But I couldn’t care less about comforting her. As she moved closer, the small snake writhed in her hands, heading right in my direction. “Ah! Get it away!” I turned to run, but my foot caught on the edge of the stairs, and I tumbled all the way down. My leg snapped. I clutched my broken limb, screaming in agony. Then, I watched in horror as the snake slithered out of her hands and crawled onto my body. I blacked out from pure terror. “Mom! Are you even listening to me?! You are being so disrespectful right now!” Chloe’s sharp voice snapped me back to reality. She was lecturing me in her childish voice. In the past, I would have found it adorable. I would have smiled and said, “I’m sorry, sweetie. Mommy was distracted. Forgive me?” and then done everything to coax her out of her pout. But now? I didn’t give a damn. Without saying a word, I hung up. I turned to the bakery clerk and said, “Actually, I don’t want this cake anymore.” The clerk, who was in the middle of boxing it up, froze. “Ma’am, are you sure? This is the last custom strawberry shortcake we have today.” It was Chloe’s absolute favorite. It was always sold out by the time I picked her up from school. Today, Leo had surprisingly offered to pick her up, which was the only reason I could get to the bakery early enough to grab the last one. “I’m sure. I don’t want it. You can sell it to someone else,” I said. I paused, pulling out my VIP membership card. “Also, I’d like to cancel my membership and refund the remaining balance to my card.” To get Chloe her favorite treats, I had pre-paid a ton of money at this high-end bakery over the years. The balance was easily over $2,000. Now, I’d rather donate that money to charity than spend a single dime of it on that ungrateful brat.

After canceling the card, I got a refund of $500 in cash. From this moment on, Chloe wouldn’t get a single penny of my money. My phone started blowing up with call after call from her. Irritated, I finally picked up. “Dad, look! The little snake is crawling right onto my hand!” Hearing the word “snake” made my breath hitch. There was a sudden gasp on the other end. Chloe clearly hadn’t expected me to answer. But in a split second, her cheerful tone turned incredibly defensive. “Mom, why didn’t you say anything when I called? And why did you hang up on me? That is so disrespectful.” I ignored her attitude. “What did you just say about a snake?” “What? No… there’s no snake,” Chloe stammered, caught off guard, not knowing how to lie her way out of it. “Just come home, Mom. I have a surprise for you.” The “surprise” was that damn snake. Even though I had practically caught her red-handed, she still refused to tell the truth. Leo had taught Chloe well. He taught her how to demand “respect” and use it as a weapon against me. Yet, neither of them had ever shown me an ounce of respect! Leo knew exactly how terrified I was of snakes, but he went behind my back and bought one anyway. He had even lied to me, saying he didn’t have to work overtime today so I could “take a break” while he picked Chloe up. Chloe knew about my phobia too. Yet she wanted to lure me home, scare the life out of me, and laugh at my reaction. “Mom, aren’t you surprised? I’ve always wanted one, and Daddy made my dream come true!” They knew I was terrified, yet they let the snake roam free in the house. They let it slither around, even letting it crawl over my broken leg when I couldn’t move, laughing hysterically as the color drained from my face! Eventually, they “generously” told me that Chloe was willing to compromise for my sake and keep the snake in a glass tank. Though I was still paralyzed with fear, I endured it for Chloe. But even lying in bed, unable to move, I felt like a cold-blooded monster was watching me every second of the day. During that recovery period, every minute in that house was pure torture. I would wake up from nightmares screaming, clawing at my skin to make sure the snake wasn’t crawling on me. Once my leg finally healed, I was finally able to take a proper shower. But Leo secretly let the snake into the bathroom. I was washing the shampoo out of my hair, eyes closed. The moment I opened them, I gasped. The snake’s head was inches from my face, staring at me. I jumped back in panic, slamming my head hard against the sink. Dizzy and in excruciating pain, I screamed for Leo to help me. He was standing right outside the glass door. I could see his silhouette. “Aurora, your leg is healed now. You need to start cleaning the guest bathroom again. You have to learn to get over this phobia.” “If you keep acting like this, Chloe is going to feel guilty. You need to start thinking about your daughter.” “After all, you’re the only one in this house who hates snakes. You’re the odd one out.” I was desperate. So desperate that I climbed onto the toilet to get away. But the snake didn’t stop. It kept slithering closer. As I scrambled onto the window sill, the cold, slimy scales wrapped around my ankle. The wet, slippery sensation triggered a primal wave of terror. I forgot I was on the sixth floor. I kicked back and fell. As my eyes closed for the last time, I couldn’t understand why they had treated me this way. I always knew Chloe loved exotic pets. But Chloe also always knew that they were my worst nightmare. It wasn’t until my rebirth, hearing Chloe’s laugh over the phone, that I finally got it. She carried Leo’s blood. All the love, care, and guidance I had given her since she was a baby couldn’t change her cold-blooded nature. Just like Leo, she loved reptiles. And just like Leo, she looked down on me.

“You bought a snake, didn’t you? I heard you. Why are you lying to me?” “You know how terrified I am of snakes. Why are you doing this to me?!” The memories of my horrific death in my past life surged, and I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. Chloe was stunned into silence. Having let out all my rage, I slammed the phone down and hung up. A moment later, Leo sent me a Snapchat message, lecturing me: What the hell is wrong with you? Is this how a mother behaves? We agreed we would raise our child as an independent individual. If you can’t respect and support your child, why did you even have one? Chloe likes snakes. What’s wrong with keeping one? Are you really going to throw a tantrum over this? She’s crying because of you. And you’re still not home? Do you even care about this family? Aurora, grow up. Do you think we’re still dating? Does everyone have to cater to your feelings? If you’re not home, who’s making dinner? And did you get the cake Chloe wanted? You don’t care about anything else, and now you can’t even buy a simple cake for your own daughter! I let out a bitter laugh. I had sacrificed everything for this family, yet in their eyes, I was still a failure of a wife and a terrible mother. When we first got married, our finances were tight, so I wanted to hold off on having kids. But Leo told me that as women get older, the quality of their eggs drops. He claimed if we waited, I’d have trouble conceiving, or worse, miscarry. He said even if I did manage to give birth, the baby would be sickly. Anxious and blinded by his words, I forgot that Leo was five years older than me. If anyone had “poor quality,” it was him. Once I got pregnant, Leo would rub my belly every day. He promised he would raise the baby himself to make sure they grew up independent, successful, and respected. Seeing his supposed paternal love, I actually felt lucky to have married him. Then, he told me my uterus was too weak and forced me to take early maternity leave to “protect the baby.” I didn’t want to. I had just passed my probation at work. Taking leave now would make my boss think I had planned the pregnancy just to abuse the company’s benefits. But he just looked at me with pure disdain: “The moment you got pregnant, your boss started hating you anyway. If you don’t take leave now, you’re just letting them exploit you.” I couldn’t win the argument. Under the judgmental gazes of my colleagues and manager, I took my leave. “She’s barely even showing.” “She just passed her probation. Didn’t she get pregnant during her trial period?” “I remember the senior partners saying they didn’t want to hire women.” “Yeah, Jennifer vouched for her. She promised there’d be no issues during the critical six-month project phase.” “Even if she is pregnant, she looks perfectly healthy. Why does she need leave this early?” “Who knows? Maybe she has some ‘medical complications.’” My entire pregnancy was spent in a state of high anxiety. I was excited for the baby, but I was also terrified of losing my career, of raising a child, and of trying to re-enter the workforce later. But the moment the baby was born, Leo pressured me to quit. “Breastfeeding is the healthiest option. You’re a mother now. Your priority should be our child, not your selfish career.” I was too weak postpartum to fight him. Looking at the tiny infant in my arms, a wave of maternal love washed over me. Back then, I believed Leo was right. I was willing to sacrifice everything for my baby. But when I handed in my resignation, my colleague’s words echoed in my mind: “I knew she was just using us for maternity benefits.” It cut like a knife. Leo pretended to comfort me, though he was really just looking down on them: “People who haven’t had kids just don’t get it. Nurturing a new life is a woman’s greatest value.”

I ordered some DoorDash and enjoyed a moment of peace—something I hadn’t experienced since getting married. Ever since I got married, I had stopped eating takeout. Leo claimed takeout was unhealthy, yet he never cooked. Instead, he expected me to wake up at the crack of dawn to buy fresh groceries. After making breakfast, I had to prepare his lunch. Following Leo’s strict health standards and personal preferences, I had to pack a perfect bento box for him to take to the office. He would say, “It’s too much trouble for you to cook lunch at home, and commuting back and forth wastes too much of your time. I’m just looking out for you.” But the moment I finished my own work, I had to rush to the grocery store for dinner ingredients. The second I stepped through the door, I had to put on an apron and start cooking. After dinner, it was dishwashing, laundry, and deep cleaning. I was working a job while simultaneously carrying the full burden of a housewife. That was one of the reasons I eventually gave in to Leo’s pressure to become a stay-at-home mom. “Just be a stay-at-home mom. No more stressful office job. You’ll have it so much easier, and I’ll take care of you.” He made it sound so simple. But once Chloe was born, I was solely responsible for every single aspect of her life. When Chloe grew old enough to offer to help me sweep the floor, Leo immediately stopped her: “Chloe, let Daddy tell you something. You need to learn to be independent.” “Look, sweeping is your mom’s job. She’s the adult. That’s her responsibility. You shouldn’t be doing it for her, okay?” I was furious. “Leo, what do you mean ‘my job’?” “Chores should be shared by the family. Chloe is growing up, and she wants to help me. Why would you teach her otherwise?” “You don’t even work a real job anymore. If chores aren’t your job, whose are they? Mine?” “Can you grow up? Do you seriously need a little kid to do your work for you?” “This is exactly why I need to teach Chloe to be independent—so she doesn’t end up like you!” His voice boomed, startling Chloe into tears. Then, he turned his anger back on me: “If you don’t know how to raise a child, keep your mouth shut! Your random outbursts are going to ruin her mental health!” So this was his version of “taking care of me.” I didn’t have an office job, but the physical labor never stopped. It was just as exhausting, and he took it completely for granted. And all his talk about teaching our child to be “independent”? It was a joke. Parents are supposed to be role models. He lived like a king, expecting everything to be handed to him on a silver platter. He wouldn’t even empty a trash can if it was overflowing. What right did he have to teach anyone independence? He demanded Chloe be “respected,” so he used “respect” to control me at every turn. Not making Chloe’s favorite meal was disrespectful to her. Not picking Chloe up from school on the dot was disrespectful to her. Entering Chloe’s room without permission was disrespectful to her. If Chloe found trash in her room, it was still disrespectful to her. Respect, respect, respect. For their twisted version of respect, I paid with my life. But who had ever respected me? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I opened Snapchat and texted Leo: “I want a divorce.” He replied instantly: “Why?” “You guys want respect? Fine. I’m respecting you.” “Since you both love snakes so much, you can have the house. I’m out.”

Maybe they really did hate me. The moment I brought up divorce, Chloe called me multiple times, screaming that I was an irresponsible mother and a terrible wife. My voice was dead calm. “Who taught you to say those words?” Chloe sounded proud of herself. “I’m older now. I know how the world works.” “Other moms either make a lot of money or take perfect care of the house. They do a great job.” “Why don’t you make money, and you can’t even do the chores right? You’re failing as a mom.” “My friends’ moms respect them. They let them have cats and dogs, and the moms are the ones who walk them and clean up after them.” “But you? The moment you found out I got a snake, you ran away and didn’t even come home.” I listened to her entire rant patiently, then calmly replied, “Right. And remember when I wanted to get a dog? Did either of you let me?” Chloe choked on her words. Leo hated dogs. He claimed they shed too much. He said walking a dog was a waste of time and would lower his quality of life. But we all knew I would have been the one walking the dog anyway. At the end of the day, he just didn’t want me to have any distraction from serving him and his daughter. Chloe didn’t really care about dogs either way. But Leo had sat her down, telling her how much of a hassle a dog would be, and insisted on “majority rules” to get her on his side. If Chloe had agreed to the dog, she would have stepped on her precious father’s toes. So, to show “respect” to her beloved dad, Chloe voted against it. And that was the end of the dog. “You know your friends have cats and dogs,” I said. “Go ask them how many of their parents would tolerate a snake living in their house.” Chloe tried to argue. “But everyone is different! Why shouldn’t I be allowed to have a snake?” “Oh, I am allowing it. That’s why I’m giving you the house so you can raise it.” “You can let it sleep in my old bed if you want. I don’t care. None of this has anything to do with me anymore.” Leo chimed in over her shoulder, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let her go. Who cares if she comes back? Like we can’t survive without her.” I was actually really excited to see the answer to that. I reminded Leo: “Don’t forget to meet me at the family court tomorrow to file the paperwork.” I wanted to get out before they realized how much they actually relied on their live-in maid. Unfortunately, there was a mandatory thirty-day separation period before the divorce could be finalized. “Thirty days. See you then. Don’t go regretting this. Let’s see who else is going to spoil you like I did.” At the lawyer’s office, Leo was smugger than ever. He was absolutely convinced I couldn’t survive without him. But in this day and age, I had a working brain and a healthy body. There was nothing I couldn’t do to support myself. Without the two of them dragging me down, my real life was finally beginning.

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On the very first day of our honeymoon, I dragged my husband to a local photography studio to get some romantic couple portraits done. As the camera lens panned over him, the photographer casually asked, “Hey, how come you didn’t bring your girlfriend this time?” I was just about to raise my hand to show off my wedding ring when a familiar voice chimed in from behind us. “Marcus! What a coincidence seeing you guys vacationing here too.” The scowl that Marcus had been wearing all trip finally cracked, replaced by a warm, genuine smile. The girl shoved me aside, effortlessly taking my spot next to him. The photographer smoothly guided them through a series of cozy poses, and as they finished up, he smiled and said: “Congratulations! Wishing you two a happy honeymoon.” Marcus gently rustled the girl’s hair with pure affection and muttered a soft, “Thanks.” I thought my ears were playing tricks on me. Just as I opened my mouth to clarify who the actual wife was, Marcus grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the studio. Right before we stepped out the door, my eyes locked onto the display wall he had been staring at earlier. In the framed photo, Marcus and Chloe were locked in a passionate, deep kiss. The timestamp on the photo was exactly one day before our wedding.

Suddenly, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Looking at Marcus now, every ounce of love I had felt for him evaporated. All the way back, Chloe and Marcus chatted and laughed, sharing inside jokes. I sat there like an invisible third wheel who couldn’t squeeze a word in. This man, who had been completely silent and cold to me, was now looking at another woman with eyes full of tenderness. I suddenly realized this marriage didn’t even need to begin. The moment we stepped into our hotel suite, Marcus threw his coat down and glared at me. “What was with that miserable face back there?” “You were the one who begged for this honeymoon. Now that we’re here, you’re throwing a tantrum and ruining the mood.” “Do you have any idea how valuable my time is?” I stared at him in utter disbelief, a bitter tightness squeezing my chest. When I was eighteen, the Franklin family empire went bankrupt. My parents essentially pawned me off to the Christians under the guise of an arranged alliance. The graduation trip my parents had promised me was canceled. Seeing how devastated I was back then, Marcus had wiped away my tears, promising he would take me on a trip every single year. The first year, Chloe got sick and was hospitalized, so we had to wait. The second year, Chloe took a bad fall after a breakup, and the plans fell through again. This year, Marcus finally agreed to take me. But as it turned out, he and Chloe had already been here, playing house as a happy couple. The suffocating silence in the room was crushing me. I just wanted a straight answer. “When did you and Chloe come here?” He shrugged casually, acting as if I was making a big deal out of nothing. “Chloe failed her job interview last month and cried all night. I brought her here to clear her head.” “To clear her head? Does clearing her head require mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?” A long, heavy silence stretched between us. Then, Marcus snapped, his face flushing with anger. “Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself.” “Chloe is like a sister to me. If there was actually anything going on between us, do you really think you’d be sitting here as my wife?” I let out a dry laugh. So, that was his truth. Chloe’s parents died saving Marcus’s life when they were kids. To make it up to her, his parents had initially set them up to be married. But then, Marcus claimed he fell in love with me at first sight. He used childish stunts like hunger strikes and running away from home to force his parents to agree to our match. When the Franklins went under, he finally got exactly what he wanted. “Let’s get a divorce.” His hands froze over the suitcase he was unpacking. He let out a scoff. “Just because I took Chloe on a trip to cheer her up, you’re throwing a fit and demanding a divorce?” “Catherine, when did you become so childish?” I said nothing, my heart aching in dull, heavy thuds. “Chloe has really sensitive skin and allergies. Go sleep in her room tonight so she can have this suite.” Seeing me stand still, he reached out and patted my head condescendingly. “You need to learn to be more generous.” My eyes welled up with uncontrollable tears. It was always like this. The jewelry she wanted, I had to give up. The designer dresses she wanted, I had to let her have. I had been yielding to her for seven long years. I sniffled, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’ll give her the room. And you? I’m giving you to her too.” Hearing this, he pinched the bridge of his nose in sheer annoyance. “It’s just a room! Stop turning everything into a federal case!” Before I could reply, there was a knock at the door. The moment Chloe walked in, Marcus smoothly took her suitcase, opened it, and began unpacking her things one by one. That was when I noticed their toiletries were matching couple sets. She slid her room card into my palm, offering a sweet, innocent, yet apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Catherine. I booked my room so late, and the view isn’t great.” “I hate to make you suffer in that room… you don’t mind, right?” I suddenly felt a surge of petty amusement. “What if I said I do mind? Would you give me my suite back?” It was the first time in seven years I had ever said no to her. Chloe froze, her eyes instantly filling with tears. She began frantically stuffing her things back into her suitcase, acting as if she was being bullied. Marcus’s face darkened instantly. He grabbed my suitcase and hurled it out into the hallway. “If anyone’s leaving, it’s you.” The zipper on my suitcase burst, scattering my clothes all over the hallway floor. I sat slumped in the middle of the mess, looking absolutely pathetic and ridiculous. The heavy suite door slammed shut, cutting off my view of Marcus. The plastic room card in my hand felt like a burning coal. I laughed at myself, realizing for the very first time what a massive joke my life had become.

Instead of going to Chloe’s room, I went straight to the airport. On my phone, the wedding planner was blowing up my WhatsApp, asking me to confirm the final details for the ceremony. Before this trip, Marcus had held me close, promising he would give me the wedding of the century the moment we got back. I stared at the screen for a long time, waiting until my battery was down to one percent. Finally, I typed back: Change my name on everything to Chloe. I also bought the digital file of the photo I saw at the photography studio and sent it to them. Use this as the main welcome poster at the entrance. I figured Marcus would love my little wedding gift. Our trip was supposed to last a week, but by the time Marcus finally returned home, a whole two weeks had passed. He hadn’t even noticed that I left the honeymoon early, nor had he sent a single text to check on me. He tossed a luxury gift box onto my lap. “Chloe bought you this to apologize. It’s been weeks, Catherine. You should be over your little tantrum by now.” I looked at the box. It had a prominent ‘Gift with Purchase’ sticker on it, and the perfume sample inside was already more than half empty. He couldn’t even bother to pretend to care. I slowly stood up, pulled the pre-drafted divorce papers from my drawer, and slid them across the table. “Marcus, let’s get a divorce.” He glanced down at the papers, his brows knitting together in pure irritation. “Catherine, don’t you think you’re being incredibly dramatic?” “Your family literally threw you away and handed you to me like a piece of garbage. If you leave me, who else in New York would ever want you?” I snapped my head up to look at him. It was true—the moment the alliance with the Christians was finalized, my parents had kicked me out of the house. They called it “fostering a relationship” with my future husband. Looking at the man who had once promised to build a home with me, I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. The love I had once been so proud of felt incredibly pathetic at this moment. My lips trembled, but I couldn’t find the words to argue. Because he was right. He slammed the door and left, telling me to use the night to clear my head. The next morning, when I arrived at the office, my colleagues were whispering and congratulating me, saying my promotion to Senior Project Manager was a done deal. But my blood ran cold when I opened the official announcement email and saw Chloe’s name listed as the new manager. I stormed into Marcus’s office with the printout, only to stop dead in my tracks. Chloe was leaning over Marcus, tenderly adjusting his tie. They looked like two high school sweethearts in the middle of a honeymoon phase. When Marcus saw me, his face immediately twisted into annoyance. “Knock before you come in. Even elementary school kids know that rule. Do I need to send you back to HR for basic etiquette training?” “You’ve been with this company for years, and you still have zero situational awareness.” Chloe, on the other hand, took a timid step back, looking like a frightened rabbit. “I’m so sorry, Catherine… I always do Marcus’s ties. I saw it was crooked and just reacted without thinking.” She quickly untied Marcus’s tie, shoved it into my hands, and ran out of the office crying. Once again, she made me look like the wicked witch who had ruined their pure love. Marcus’s voice boomed with anger. “You know Chloe has been depressed since she failed her job interview. It’s just one position, Catherine. Do you really have to fight her for everything?” This was different. I had pulled countless all-nighters and drafted dozens of proposals to earn this promotion. And with one casual sentence, he expected me to just hand it over. Watching him turn to leave, I called out, “Marcus, it’s either Chloe or me. Choose.” He paused for a fraction of a second, but didn’t turn back. He kept walking to chase after Chloe. I walked back to my desk. Looking at the cubicle where I had poured four years of my life, it felt utterly alien. That afternoon, the company-wide Snapchat group exploded. A coworker nudged my arm, sliding her phone in front of my face. “Catherine… is Mr. Christian actually your husband?”

Chloe had uploaded a photo of my marriage certificate with Marcus to the group chat. Her caption read: Wishing Catherine and Marcus a lifetime of happiness! My entire body went numb. The chat was scrolling at lightning speed with mockery and gossip from my coworkers. “I knew it! No wonder she landed all those major clients at her age. She was just riding her husband’s coattails!” “Please, her parents basically sold her. She’s been his live-in maid for seven years. Aside from a piece of paper, she has nothing.” “Did you see how Mr. Christian looks at Chloe? That’s real love right there. Catherine is just a placeholder.” The nasty, venomous words flooded my brain. My head felt like it was going to split open. I fled from my desk and slipped into the quiet stairwell to catch my breath. But as I walked down, I heard a soft, wet, gasping sound coming from the landing below. Chloe was whimpering, her shoulders trembling as her small hands weakly beat against Marcus’s chest. “Now everyone knows… you guys can be together openly now. She won’t have to ‘misunderstand’ us anymore.” “Are you happy now?” Marcus stared at her for a second, then leaned down to kiss the tears from her eyelids. “That’s enough.” “Don’t ever do that again without my permission.” Then, the heavy sound of kissing resumed. I don’t even remember how I dragged myself back to my office. When I walked in, Marcus was lounging on his leather sofa, looking thoroughly satisfied. I placed my physical resignation letter on his desk. His forehead creased with instant irritation, and he uncomfortably pulled up his collar. “What are you throwing a tantrum about now?” “Chloe didn’t mean to leak the certificate. She’s been crying in the restroom for an hour. I already lectured her about it.” We had been together for seven years, and he had never once publicly acknowledged my existence. The only couple photos we had were deleted by him because “it might negatively impact the company’s stock price.” I had lived like a shameful, hidden mistress for seven years. I stared at the fresh red mark on his collarbone and forced a hollow smile. So, that was his idea of a “lecture.” He stood up and reached out to wrap his arms around me. The thought of what they had just done in the dusty stairwell made my stomach violently churn. I lurched backward, dodging his touch, genuinely wondering how he did it. One second he was passionately making out with his foster sister, and the next, he could act like a doting fiancé to me. He casually tossed my resignation letter into the paper shredder, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m going to pretend I never saw this. As for the promotion, we’ll talk about it next time.” “Besides, given our legal status, it’s better if we keep a professional distance at work anyway.” It took me four grueling years to climb from an assistant to managing my own projects. How many more four-year periods did he expect me to wait? I waited year after year for a vacation. I waited year after year for a promotion. And with one word—”professionalism”—he wiped out every ounce of my hard work. But I was done waiting. I kept my voice completely professional. “If you want to keep your distance, my resignation actually solves all your problems.” He looked at me, a sudden wave of understanding washing over his face. “Ah, right. We’re already legally married, and the wedding ceremony is in two days. I make more than enough to support you anyway.” “My mother has been begging for grandkids. After the wedding, you can stay home and focus on getting pregnant.” I gave him a non-committal hum, waiting until he signed off on my exit paperwork before turning on my heel. As I reached the door, he called out, “Oh, and don’t forget—our parents are meeting in three days to finalize the wedding reception details. Don’t be late.” I didn’t answer. The moment I stepped out of the building, I booked a one-way ticket to London. A few days ago, I had received a job offer from a multinational firm over there. My future was waiting for me across the Atlantic.

Three days later, I still showed up to the dinner. An ugly beginning deserved a clean, dignified ending. When I arrived at the private dining room, it was completely empty. Right then, my phone buzzed. It was Marcus, and he immediately started yelling the moment I picked up. “Catherine! How old are you? Still playing games and showing up late? If you can’t even manage your time, how can I trust you with a manager position?” I opened the text notification on my phone. It was a new address. How hilarious. The venue had been changed, and I, the bride, was the last to know. When I finally arrived at the upscale restaurant, Chloe was sitting in my designated seat, making both sets of parents laugh hysterically with her sweet banter. The moment I walked in, the warm atmosphere turned ice-cold. Chloe immediately made a show of standing up to give me my seat, but Marcus’s mother grabbed her arm, pulling her back down. “Chloe, sweetie, stay right there.” She then turned her icy glare toward me. “If some people hadn’t used cheap, manipulative tricks, the title of Mrs. Christian would belong to Chloe right now.” “You’re in your twenties, yet you expect your elders to sit around and wait for you.” “You haven’t even officially moved into the Christian estate, and you’re already throwing your weight around like you own the place. Who do you think you are?” My parents sat there, offering nothing but awkward, tight smiles. Marcus shot me a warning glare, his eyes practically screaming threats. “On such an important day, you’re the only one who’s late. Aren’t you embarrassed?” I let out a long sigh, ignored the comments, and sat down at an empty seat. My heart was already dead. Looking at the table, every single dish was covered in heavy, spicy Mexican chili oil. Marcus picked up a fork, stabbed a piece of spicy meat, and put it on my plate. He leaned close to my ear. “Stop sulking. Everyone is watching. Smile.” Without a second thought, I scraped the meat directly into the trash bin. The smile on Marcus’s face froze. “I can’t eat spicy food.” My stomach had been ruined by stress ulcers over the years; spicy food was practically poison to my system. Years ago, when I had accidentally taken a bite of a spicy pepper, Marcus had panicked, rushing me to the ER for a full gastrointestinal scan. Since then, he had always personally checked every menu to make sure my food was bland. Chloe noticed my action and her face fell. “The elders are all sitting right here, Catherine. Who are you putting on this dramatic show for?” Marcus looked at Chloe, then back at me. He stabbed another piece of spicy food, his voice dropping to a cold, commanding whisper. “Eat it. Behave.” I set my fork down with a quiet clack. “Enjoy your dinner.” “I only came here to say one thing: I won’t be attending the wedding. Marcus and I are completely over.” With that, I stood up and walked out. Behind me, Marcus’s mother exploded into furious screeching, while my parents frantically rambled out awkward apologies. I drove straight back to my apartment, grabbed my pre-packed suitcases, and headed to the airport. Back at the restaurant, it took Marcus nearly an hour to soothe his mother’s anger, promising her that I would never act out like this again. But remembering the absolute finality in my eyes before I walked out, a sudden, cold dread crept into his chest. He pulled out his phone and shot me a text: Catherine, stop this childish nonsense. Come back and apologize right now. I didn’t reply. For the next few days, I didn’t send him a single text or call. He didn’t think much of it, assuming I was just experiencing cold feet and being shy before the big day. After all, I had chased him for seven years. He was convinced I could never survive without him. He figured this time would be no different. On the morning of the wedding, Marcus got up early, carefully grooming himself. He couldn’t wait to see me walk down the aisle. But the moment his car pulled up to the luxury hotel venue, his face went completely pale.

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I had just woken up from the anesthesia after my C-section. My husband gently placed a tiny baby girl in my arms. Suddenly, glowing lines of text flashed across my eyes like a live-stream chat. [Wait! That’s not your daughter. Your real daughter was swapped by your husband and Fiona Cross, the single pregnant mother you sponsored.] [They did it together.] [They put their own love child in your arms instead!] [They want their illegitimate daughter to replace yours and inherit the Montgomery family fortune!] [Your real daughter is right next to Fiona. She has a faint pink birthmark behind her left ear.] [In ten minutes, they will transfer her out of this hospital under the excuse of treating severe jaundice.] The blood in my veins turned to ice. In the next second, Fiona knocked and walked in. She smiled, looking innocent and harmless. “Mrs. Montgomery, my daughter has severe jaundice. She’s being transferred to another hospital in a few minutes. I wanted to come by and say goodbye.” The floating text in front of my eyes flashed rapidly. [Don’t let her leave!] [If she walks out that door, you will never find your daughter again.] I dug my fingernails deep into my palms. I forced a smile. “Jaundice? Let me take a look.”

The hospital room fell dead silent. Julian was the first to react. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed his hand against my shoulder. The pressure wasn’t heavy, but it was just enough to press down on my C-section wound, sending a sharp pain through me. “Chloe, you just woke up. Don’t move.” I stared at him. To the public, Julian Vance was the most respectable son-in-law of the Montgomery Medical Group. He was the man who would run out in the middle of the night to buy sour plums when I had morning sickness. He accompanied me to every single prenatal checkup. He told the media that marrying me was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him. But the floating screen said otherwise. It was him. He had stolen our daughter and put his mistress’s baby in my arms. My chest choked with an unbearable ache. “I’m not moving too much,” I said, looking past him to Fiona. “She is a pregnant woman under my charity program. Since her baby has severe jaundice, it’s only natural for me, as her sponsor, to check on her. Is there something wrong with that?” Fiona’s grip on the baby bundle visibly tightened. “Mrs. Montgomery, the doctor said the baby shouldn’t be exposed to the cold wind. The transport ambulance is waiting downstairs.” “I heard jaundice is most obvious behind the ear. I’ll just check behind her ear. No need to unwrap her completely.” Her face turned pale. Julian tried to coax me in a gentle voice, “Chloe, Fiona has had a hard time. Her baby needs urgent care. Let’s not delay them.” “Will a five-second delay kill her?” I asked. His brows furrowed slightly. It was a silent warning. During our standoff, the nurse at the door walked in. Rachel. She was the one who had checked my wristband before my surgery. She wore a professional smile. “Mrs. Montgomery, the anesthesia hasn’t fully worn off yet. You might not be thinking clearly. The transfer paperwork for Fiona’s baby is already complete. The ambulance is waiting downstairs.” I looked at her. “What is her bilirubin level?” Rachel paused. “320.” “When was it tested?” “Twenty minutes ago.” “Where is the report?” Rachel’s smile stiffened. “It’s all logged in the electronic medical system.” A new comment floated across my eyes. [They just modified the numbers.] [The original record was only 176. It didn’t meet the emergency transfer criteria at all.] [They just want Fiona to take your daughter and make a quick escape before you find out.] My daughter was standing just a few steps away from me. Held by her biological father and another woman, about to be erased from my life forever. I forced myself to breathe steadily. “Since the jaundice is so severe, I’ll contact the head of the Neonatology Department at Crestview to check her personally. I’ll cover all the expenses.” Fiona raised her head instantly. “No need, Mrs. Montgomery. You’ve already helped me so much.” “I’m not asking for your permission.” I pressed the call button next to my bed and told the nurse aide who walked in: “Tell the head of Neonatology to come to my room. Also, before he arrives, Fiona and her baby are not allowed to leave this floor.” Rachel panicked. “Mrs. Montgomery, this goes against hospital protocol.” “I am one of the largest individual shareholders of Crestview Maternity Hospital.” I stared at her, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you really trying to talk to me about protocol?” Rachel’s face lost all color. Julian called out to me in a low voice, “Chloe.” I didn’t look at him. “Also, my own baby is not allowed to leave this room. Any checkups must be done right in front of me.” Fiona’s eyes welled with tears. “Mrs. Montgomery, is there some kind of misunderstanding? I just want to get medical care for my baby.” I stared at the bundle in her arms. “Then wait for the specialist to get here.” The floating text popped up again. [Step one: successful.] [But they have already altered the hospital system.] [They won’t let you see the birthmark that easily.]

The head of Neonatology didn’t show up. Instead, Dr. Thomas Sterling, the Vice President of the hospital, walked in. There was sweat on his forehead. Two nurses and an administrative director followed right behind him. Julian stood up and whispered a few words to him. Dr. Sterling’s gaze shifted to me, becoming instantly cautious and overly polite. “Mrs. Montgomery, congratulations on a successful delivery. Your health is the top priority right now. The hospital will handle everything else.” I asked, “Where is the department head?” “He is currently in surgery. But we can arrange phototherapy for the baby here.” “Then treat her in this hospital.” “According to the current records, Fiona’s baby has extremely high levels. We highly recommend transferring her to our partner clinic for observation.” I stared at him. “Crestview is the best private maternity hospital in the city. Are you telling me we can’t treat a simple case of newborn jaundice and have to send her away?” Julian walked over, leaning down to tuck my blanket in. “Chloe, you just had surgery. You shouldn’t be worrying about other people’s problems. I’ll handle Fiona’s arrangements.” I grabbed his wrist. “Did you sign the newborn birth confirmation?” His eyes flickered. “The hospital asked me to sign on your behalf.” “On whose behalf?” “I’m the baby’s father. It’s only natural for me to sign.” I looked at him and slowly let go of his wrist. “I wasn’t even awake yet, and you already signed to confirm the baby’s identity?” His perfect composure finally showed a crack. Dr. Sterling quickly intervened. “Mrs. Montgomery, it’s very common for family members to sign on behalf of the mother in clinical practice, especially since you were still recovering from anesthesia.” “Common doesn’t mean legal,” my voice went cold. “Bring me all the handover records, identity verification videos, and the umbilical cord blood storage codes from my delivery.” Rachel stood in the back, her fingers clutching her clipboard so hard they turned white. A comment floated by. [She’s panicking.] [She already swapped the ankle bands of the two babies and backdated the handover log.] [Don’t drink the water. Julian ordered a sedative to be added to it.] The moment I looked up, Julian was already holding the glass of water from the nightstand. “Drink some water first, Chloe. Your lips are dry.” I stared at the warm water. “You drink it.” His hand froze. “Chloe, what are you doing now?” “I said, you drink it.” Everyone in the room turned to look at him. The gentle mask on Julian’s face was about to shatter. “You shouldn’t be so paranoid after a C-section.” I laughed. “I’m paranoid? Then take a sip and prove me wrong.” He set the glass back down. “The doctor said you need to stay hydrated.” “Then have the nurse open a fresh, sealed bottle for me.” Rachel immediately chimed in, “The water in our ward is standardized. There’s nothing wrong with it.” I looked at her. “Are you absolutely sure about that?” She shut her mouth. Fiona stood by the door, cradling the baby as tears streamed down her face. “Mrs. Montgomery, I know you are wealthy and powerful, and you look down on people like us in your charity programs. But just because you don’t like me, you shouldn’t stop my daughter from getting medical treatment.” With a single sentence, she painted a vivid picture. A rich heiress bullying a poor, single mother. What a perfect card to play. Dr. Sterling frowned. “Mrs. Montgomery, your emotional state seems highly unstable right now. Should I call a psychiatrist for an evaluation?” I stared him down. “Do it.” He was stunned. I continued, “And while you’re at it, call the legal department, the risk management team, and the hospital administration. If we’re doing an evaluation, let’s evaluate everyone.” Julian said in a low, warning tone, “Chloe, don’t make a scene.” I pressed a button on my smartwatch. My fingers were still trembling from the lingering anesthesia. I sent a text to Vivian: “My baby is in danger.” Vivian Carter was my late mother’s most trusted lawyer and the executor of the Montgomery Family Trust. She had once told me: “Chloe, marriages can fail, and people’s hearts can change. But the protective clauses in a trust fund never lie.” Back then, I thought she was too cold. Only now did I realize the painful truth in her words.

By 11:40 PM, the ward was in complete chaos. Rushed footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. I had already instructed Vivian to lock down the hospital. Fiona wouldn’t be able to escape. But I couldn’t sleep a wink. My daughter was still in another woman’s arms. How could I sleep? The door was pushed open. Rachel rolled in an incubator transport cart. Fiona followed right behind her. The baby had already been placed inside the incubator, covered by a transparent plastic dome, showing only a tiny, red face. Fiona’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. “Mrs. Montgomery, please stop blocking us. The doctor said if we delay any longer, my daughter might suffer brain damage.” Julian was there, too. He had changed his jacket, looking exhausted. “Chloe, I had Dr. Sterling call a specialist consultation. The conclusion is that we must transfer the baby first. If you’re still worried, I’ll ride in the ambulance with them.” The floating text flashed frantically. [Lies!] [They forged the consultation records!] [She taped over the baby’s left ear to hide the birthmark. You have to look!] [Once they enter the elevator, the underground parking lot has blind spots in the security cameras.] I pushed myself up against the headboard, trying to sit up. A sharp, ripping pain in my abdomen made my vision go black. The nurse aide quickly held me down. “Mrs. Montgomery, don’t get up! Your stitches will rip!” I gritted my teeth. “Bring the incubator here.” Rachel blocked it. “We are on a tight schedule.” “Bring it here!” She didn’t budge. I looked at Julian. “You said you’d ride in the ambulance, right? Then you personally bring the baby to me so I can look at her.” His eyes turned cold. “Chloe, you are disrupting hospital order.” “I just want to look at her once.” Suddenly, Fiona dropped to her knees. She clung to the edge of the incubator, sobbing hysterically. “Mrs. Montgomery, I beg you! My daughter is not your toy! Just because you have money, you can’t keep my child hostage here!” Her loud wails drew the attention of patients in the neighboring rooms. “What’s going on?” “I think it’s the Montgomery heiress. She won’t let a poor pregnant woman’s baby get transferred for treatment.” “Rich people are terrifying. They even want to control other people’s sick babies?” “She just gave birth, right? Is she having some mental breakdown?” The whispers crawled into my ears. But I only stared at the baby inside the incubator. She was crying. The final thread of my sanity snapped. I ripped the IV needle right out of the back of my hand. Beads of blood welled up. Julian’s face changed instantly. “Chloe Montgomery!” I used every ounce of my remaining strength to swing my legs out of bed. The moment my feet hit the floor, my knees buckled, and I fell forward. Julian caught me. Using the momentum, I grabbed the edge of the incubator and slammed open the side access port. Rachel screamed, “What are you doing?!” I reached my hand inside and gently parted the soft hair behind the baby’s left ear. In that split second. I saw it. A faint, reddish birthmark sat quietly on the skin behind her ear, looking like a tiny drop of red ink on paper. The floating chat exploded. Tears instantly poured down my face. “This is my baby.” The room fell dead silent. Fiona’s crying stopped for half a second. Then, she shrieked. “You’re lying! That’s my daughter!” Julian grabbed my shoulders and tried to drag me back. “That’s enough, Chloe!” I struggled, screaming at the top of my lungs, “She has a birthmark behind her left ear! She’s my daughter!” Rachel immediately chimed in, “Birthmarks are extremely common in newborns. You can’t claim a baby just because of a spot. Mrs. Montgomery, you just gave birth. You might be suffering from postpartum psychosis.” Dr. Sterling rushed to the door, his expression grim. “Get Mrs. Montgomery back into bed immediately. Call the psychiatric department for an emergency consultation if necessary.” I looked at their faces. I finally understood what it felt like to be forcefully fitted into the straightjacket of a “madwoman.” They were all waiting for me to break. First, they would label me as mentally unstable. Then, everything I said would be dismissed as the delusions of a crazy person. This was Julian’s ultimate advantage as my husband. Julian leaned down, his voice barely a whisper in my ear. “Chloe, don’t force my hand.” I looked up into his eyes. “What are you going to do to me?”

He remained silent. That was his answer. The crowd in the hallway grew larger. Some people held up their phones, but the hospital security guards quickly blocked them. Fiona knelt on the floor, gasping for breath through her tears. “Mrs. Montgomery, I know you helped me, but you can’t humiliate me like this. You have your own baby. Why do you want to steal mine?” The moment she said those words, the whispers outside changed. “Stealing a baby? Oh my god.” “Is she unhappy with her own baby? Does she think someone else’s baby is cuter, so she’s claiming it?” “Shh, keep it down. They’re rich. Even if she steals it, there’s nothing we can do.” “Postpartum psychosis is pretty common among wealthy women, right?” Two nurses held me down on the edge of the bed. My incision was completely numb with pain. Julian turned to Dr. Sterling. “She has been under a lot of stress during the pregnancy. She just woke up from anesthesia, and her emotions are highly unstable. I suggest letting her rest.” “I’m just worried about you,” he added softly to me. Fiona quickly sobbed in agreement, “Mr. Vance, Mrs. Montgomery just became a mother too. She’s probably just too anxious. I don’t blame her.” Rachel walked over holding a syringe. “Mrs. Montgomery, this is a mild sedative prescribed by Dr. Sterling. The dosage is very small and won’t affect breastfeeding.” I stared at the needle. I raised my wrist and spoke directly into my smartwatch: “Vivian, upload the audio recording to the cloud server right now.” All sound in the room died instantly. The next second, the ward door was pushed open. Vivian walked in holding her briefcase. Behind her were two police officers and the head of the Montgomery Foundation. Seeing my bleeding hand and pale face, Vivian’s eyes turned freezing cold. She turned to face everyone in the room. “Starting now, no one is allowed to move either of these newborns. No medical records are to be deleted, altered, or backdated. Anyone who violates this will be charged with destroying evidence.” Julian finally tore off his gentle mask. “Ms. Carter, this is a private matter between my wife and me.” “Didn’t you just say she’s mentally unstable?” Vivian looked at the police officers. “In that case, we need a third party to step in. We can’t have a husband making unilateral medical decisions for a supposedly ‘unstable’ patient.” “On behalf of Mrs. Montgomery, as the trustee of the Montgomery Family Trust, I am officially freezing all beneficiary status checks due to identity risks.” Julian’s face went completely pale. I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I looked at the police officers. “Officer, I request the immediate seizure and sealing of all Crestview Maternity Hospital’s newborn handover logs, delivery room access logs, surgical cord blood samples, placental pathology samples, newborn screening blood cards, transfer requests, and ambulance GPS records.” “Furthermore, seal all of tonight’s medical orders, including the sedative syringe they were about to inject into me.” Dr. Sterling broke into a cold sweat. “Mrs. Montgomery, you’ve misunderstood. This is just a family matter…” “It is not a family matter,” I said, projecting every word clearly. “I suspect a criminal conspiracy to swap newborns, forge medical documents, illegally transport an infant, and attempt to fraudulently claim the beneficiary rights of the Montgomery Family Trust.” The moment those words left my mouth, Fiona’s face drained of all color. The onlookers outside went wild.

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On the day of my wedding dress fitting, the zipper got stuck on my back. But instead of helping me, Carter took a phone call and walked out of the massive bridal boutique, leaving me all by myself. His excuse? His ex-girlfriend’s Samoyed, Cotton, was depressed and on a hunger strike. Carter just “had” to go and hand-feed him. This was the seventh time this month he had abandoned me for that dog. All because of a ridiculous pact they made when they broke up: “Whenever the dog has an emotional breakdown, both “parents” must be present to comfort him.” I stared at myself in the mirror, looking like a total joke in a half-finished wedding gown. Finally, I dialed the number I had ignored for three long years. “Damian Vance… does your offer from three years ago still stand?” On the other end of the line, the most ruthless and cold-blooded billionaire in New York’s elite circle spoke with a raspy, suppressed, and wild voice: “Ten minutes. I’m coming to get you. Chloe, you walked into my trap this time. Don’t even think about escaping for the rest of your life.” Later, Carter would kneel in the pouring rain, eyes bloodshot, begging me to look at him just one last time. But Damian simply wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing the cold tip of his black umbrella against Carter’s chin. “Get lost. Don’t dirty my wife’s eyes.”

The AC in the luxury bridal boutique was blasting, and goosebumps broke out across my bare back. The zipper of the wedding dress was stuck right at my waist. I reached behind, straining my arms, but I couldn’t pull it up no matter how hard I tried. “Carter, can you help me?” I called out through the curtain of the fitting room. No response. I pushed the curtain open just a crack. Carter was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, on the phone. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo—the groom’s suit we had just picked out yesterday. Right now, his brows were tightly knit, his voice filled with a rare, anxious tenderness. “Melody, don’t cry. What’s wrong with Cotton? Is he refusing to eat again?” Hearing the names “Melody” and “Cotton,” my fingers on the curtain froze. My fingertips turned a ghostly, bloodless white. Melody. His ex-girlfriend. Cotton. The Samoyed they adopted together. “Okay, don’t be scared. I’m on my way.” Carter hung up, and as he turned around, his eyes met mine. He paused for a second. A flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a calm, matter-of-fact look. “Chloe, I have to go,” he said, walking over. He didn’t even glance at the million-dollar gown I was wearing. “Melody said Cotton has been on a hunger strike since last night. He’s shivering under the couch. You know Article 28 of “The 36 Rules of Cotton’s Co-parenting” states that if the dog shows severe depressive symptoms, both owners must comfort him together.” That damn co-parenting agreement again. This was the seventh time this month. On the day we set our wedding date, he rushed off to sign a dental surgery consent form for Cotton. “Rule 5: Any medical intervention requires joint signatures.” On the day we did our wedding menu tasting, he left halfway through to buy a specific brand of goat milk powder. “Rule 15: Any dietary changes must be inspected by both parties in person.” On the day we mailed our wedding invitations, he spent the entire afternoon at Melody’s apartment watching the rain with Cotton. “Rule 19: Thunderstorms require double companionship.” Every single time, he used that professional, business-like tone to tell me, “Chloe, I promised Melody when we broke up. Cotton is a living soul. I can’t just abandon him. This is just a responsibility. Don’t overthink it.” I stared at him, my throat feeling like it was stuffed with wet cardboard. “Carter, today is our last dress fitting. The designer flew in all the way from Paris, and she’s only staying for two hours.” My voice was quiet, trembling with a pathetic weakness that made even me despise myself. He reached out, habitually trying to ruffle my hair, but I jerked my head away. His hand froze in mid-air. His brows furrowed deeper, his tone dripping with the impatience of a man used to getting his way. “Chloe, you used to be so reasonable. We can reschedule the fitting. I can pay double to fly the designer back here. But Cotton is in critical condition right now. He’s not just a dog—he is Melody’s emotional support animal.” “And what about me?” I looked him dead in the eye. “Does that mean your fiancée will always have to take a backseat to a dog and its owner?” Carter’s face darkened. He hated it when I questioned him like this. “I told you, it’s a responsibility. The agreement is in black and white. I can’t break my word.” He glanced at his Rolex, clearly losing his patience. “Try the dress on by yourself first. Tell the designer if you want any changes. I’ll pick you up later.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, pushing open the heavy glass doors of the boutique. A wave of summer heat rushed in, only to be instantly swallowed by the cold AC. I stood frozen, staring at the mirror. I looked like a complete joke—wearing a gorgeous, expensive wedding dress with a zipper stuck halfway down my back. The assistant walked over cautiously. “Miss Smith… do you want to keep trying?” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, the last trace of moisture in my eyes had evaporated. “No.” I reached behind and yanked the heavy gown down. The rough lace scratched my back, leaving angry red marks, but I didn’t feel a thing. “Miss Smith, about the remaining balance on this dress…” “Cancel the order. Keep the deposit.” I changed back into my own clothes, grabbed my purse, and spoke as calmly as if I were talking about the weather. When I stepped out of the boutique, the harsh sunlight stung my eyes. I pulled out my phone. I didn’t text Carter to scream at him. I didn’t post any depressing rants on Instagram. I simply scrolled to the very bottom of my contact list, staring at the number I had blocked, unblocked in the dead of night, but never actually dialed. Damian Vance. The most untouchable man in the city. Ruthless, cold-blooded, and terrifying. He was also the man who, on a rainy night three years ago, had pinned me against an alley wall with bloodshot eyes, asking me in a broken voice, “Why can’t you choose me?” I pressed the call button. It rang only once before he picked up. No “hello,” no casual greeting. Just heavy, ragged breathing, so intense I could almost feel the heat of a volcano ready to erupt through the screen. “Damian,” I said, my voice incredibly calm. “Does what you said three years ago still stand?” Silence stretched for two seconds. Then, the sharp “click” of a metal lighter echoed. The man’s voice was incredibly raspy, dripping with a dark, obsessive passion. “Chloe, do you have any idea what you’re doing right now?” “I do,” I said, watching the traffic rush by. “I don’t want to wait anymore. If you can…” “Stay right there. Don’t move,” he cut me off brutally. I heard the loud crash of a chair flipping over and people gasping in the background. “Ten minutes. Chloe, you walked into my life on your own this time. For the rest of your life, even if you die, you’ll die with my last name on your death certificate.”

After hanging up, I took a cab back to the penthouse I shared with Carter. The smart lock beeped, and the door swung open. The living room was cluttered with wedding favors we hadn’t sent out yet. I walked straight into the bedroom and pulled out a large black suitcase. I didn’t have much. When I first moved in, Carter had told me, “I’ll buy you whatever you need. You just need to bring yourself.” Now I realized he just didn’t want this place to have too many of my traces. After all, this place used to be his and Melody’s home. I had just finished packing a few everyday clothes when the front door opened. Carter was back. He carried a strong smell of veterinary disinfectant, mixed with a faint, sweet trace of Melody’s perfume. Seeing the open suitcase on the bed, he stopped in his tracks as he kicked off his shoes. “What are you doing?” He walked in, his brow locked in a tight frown. “Packing.” I didn’t even look up, throwing my toiletries into a makeup bag. Carter took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. He walked over and grabbed my wrist. “Chloe, have you had enough? It was bad enough that you threw a tantrum at the boutique, but now you’re doing the whole run-away-from-home act?” I yanked my hand out of his grip and looked at him coldly. “How’s the dog? Not dead, I assume?” “Chloe!” Carter’s voice raised, his eyes filled with disbelief. “When did you become so heartless? Cotton had acute gastroenteritis! The vet said if I had arrived a step later, he would have gone into shock! Melody was crying so hard she couldn’t even stand. Can’t you show some compassion?” I laughed. I laughed so hard tears almost came out of my eyes. “Carter, your compassion is truly overflowing. So overflowing that you can abandon your fiancée in a fitting room just to dry your ex-girlfriend’s tears.” I zipped my suitcase shut with a sharp, scraping sound. “I’m not throwing a tantrum, and I’m not running away. I’m just making room.” Carter stared at me, his chest heaving. He seemed to be trying to control his anger, trying to use his usual arrogant, condescending tone to put an end to my “childish behavior.” “Chloe, I know you feel hurt. But I’ve explained this a thousand times. The co-parenting agreement was signed when Melody and I broke up. Cotton was severely traumatized by our split back then. As a man, I have to take responsibility.” His tone softened, and he reached out, trying to hug me. “Alright, don’t be mad. I rescheduled the boutique. Tomorrow, I’ll cancel all my meetings and spend the whole day with you at the fitting, okay?” I took a step back, dodging his touch. “No need.” I pulled the cancellation receipt from my bag and tossed it onto the bed. “I cancelled the dress. They didn’t refund the deposit. Consider it my donation to your dog’s therapy.” Carter’s eyes fell on the receipt, his pupils shrinking instantly. “You cancelled it? Who gave you permission?!” His voice finally cracked, revealing a hint of panic. “Not just the dress,” I said, looking at him calmly. “The venue, the caterer, the florist—everything I was in charge of, I’ve cancelled. Carter, our wedding is off.” The air in the room froze. Carter stared at me for a solid ten seconds before letting out a cold scoff. “Chloe, you’re threatening me with the wedding?” He loosened his tie, his eyes turning cold again. “Do you honestly think I’ll buy into this? You love me so much you threw away your dignity. You’ve spent the last four years playing house and taking care of me like a maid. You really think you have the guts to leave?” His words were like a rusty blade, slowly carving into my heart. He was right. I had loved him so much. I loved him enough to tolerate him rushing over to Melody’s at midnight because of a phone call. I loved him enough to smile while helping him pick out dog food for that Samoyed. I had spent four years squeezing myself into the tiny cracks of their crowded, three-way relationship. “I didn’t have the guts before,” I said, grabbing the handle of my suitcase. “But now? You just make me sick.” Carter’s face turned pale. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a grip tight enough to shatter my bones. “Chloe! If you walk out of this door today, don’t you dare think about coming back. Even if you beg me on your knees, I won’t look at you again!” Right then, a sharp, aggressive car horn honked from downstairs. Three short honks, followed by two long blasts. It was the distinct custom horn of a Maybach—low, arrogant, and commanding. I shook off Carter’s hand and dragged my suitcase toward the door. “You won’t have to look at me ever again. Because someone is already here to pick me up.”

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During the seventh year of my secret relationship with Brandon Vance, we attended our firm’s annual ski retreat in Aspen. During the team lottery, he cheated so he could pair up with Hailey Thorne, his first love who had just returned to the country. In front of everyone, he handed my custom heated gloves to Hailey and said softly, “You get cold easily. Put these on.” The crowd went wild, cheering about how they were “meant to be.” I didn’t say a word. Instead, I quietly accepted the blue draft card handed to me by Julian Sterling, a man notorious in the venture capital world for his ruthless, cold-blooded tactics. Late that night, Brandon sent me a text: “Don’t throw a tantrum. This is just a test to see if you’re mature enough to handle being Mrs. Vance.” At that exact moment, I threw the seven-year anniversary watch I had custom-ordered for him straight into the deep snow. If anyone wanted to be the future Mrs. Vance, they could have the job. I was officially done. The snow in Aspen was heavy, but the heating inside the luxury chalet was so intense it made my skin itch. I stood on the outermost edge of the crowd, watching Logan Miller carry a raffle box to the center of the grand hall. “Alright, everyone! The rules for this year’s backcountry ski rally have changed!” Logan yelled excitedly, scanning the room. “Co-ed pairs, blind draw! If you pull the same color, you’re locked in. For the next three days and two nights in the wilderness, you survive together!” Whistles and cheers immediately erupted throughout the hall. The investment banking world is small. These men and women, usually suffocating in tight suits, loved nothing more than a little forced proximity and thrill in the wild. Hailey Thorne, wrapped in an expensive white mink coat, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, shrank timidly behind Brandon. The corner of Brandon’s mouth ticked upward. His tall frame shifted subtly, shielding her from the draft near the door. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice deep and reassuring. “I’ve got you.” “Oh, look at Brandon already playing the knight in shining armor! The rest of us better watch out on the slopes. Don’t run into his princess, or Brandon will have our heads!” The teasing grew louder and louder. I lowered my eyes, my hand stuffed deep into my coat pocket. My fingers tightly gripped the blue plastic card I had just drawn. No one knew that ten minutes before the game started, I had been standing near the second-floor stairwell. I had heard Logan whisper to Brandon: “Brandon, I marked the red cards. They’re at the very bottom right of the box. I kept them special for you and Hailey. That’s the best I can do for you, man.” And Brandon had merely given a casual, confident grunt in response. In our seven years of dating, he had never once acknowledged my existence in public. Before this trip, he had even asked me to book economy class while he flew first class. His excuse? “People at the firm talk too much, Chloe. For our future, we need to keep our distance.” And I had believed him. I genuinely thought that once this retreat was over and he was officially promoted to Managing Partner, he would fulfill his promise from seven years ago—to make our relationship public and propose to me. But now, he was walking toward the raffle box. His long fingers reached in, pulling out the marked red card with absolute precision. A second later, Hailey “coincidentally” pulled out a red card as well. “Oh my god—red! A perfect match!” Logan clapped, and the entire room erupted. Hailey’s face flushed red. She looked up at Brandon with watery, sparkling eyes. “Brandon, it looks like I’m going to be a burden to you for the next three days. I’m still such a terrible skier…” “It’s fine,” Brandon said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. He untied his cashmere scarf and wrapped it gently around her neck. “I’ll teach you. Just follow my lead.” At that moment, my heart felt like it had been plunged into the freezing Colorado snow. That scarf… I had spent three months knitting it for him, stitch by stitch. I took a deep, shaky breath, pushing down the bitter taste in my throat, and raised my blue card. “Who has the blue card?” I asked. My voice wasn’t loud, but in the suddenly quiet room, it carried perfectly. Everyone’s eyes snapped to me. Logan blinked, trying to laugh it off. “Chloe, tough luck. Blue is the extreme backcountry route. It’s the most dangerous. Want me to swap it for you?” “No need,” I cut him off, my gaze sweeping the room. Hearing my voice, Brandon raised his head. Our eyes met through the crowd. His brow furrowed, his eyes flashing with a familiar, warning look that said: “Don’t start acting up now.” Just then, a cool, deep voice drifted over from the corner sofa. “I have it.” The crowd turned, gasping collectively. The man sitting in the corner stood up. He wore a minimalist black ski jacket. He was tall, with sharp, striking features, and carried an aura of absolute authority that warned everyone to stay away. It was Julian Sterling. The youngest, most ruthless venture capital titan on Wall Street, and the primary sponsor of this entire retreat. He walked over to me, opening his palm. A blue card lay quietly in his hand. “Looks like we’re partners, Chloe.”

The atmosphere in the room instantly turned tense. Nobody expected a mid-level investment director like me to be paired with a cold-blooded industry giant like Julian. Brandon’s face darkened visibly. He took a step forward, as if to say something, but Hailey gently tugged at his sleeve. “Brandon, my head hurts. I think the altitude is getting to me.” Brandon froze. His attention was instantly pulled back to Hailey. “Let me take you upstairs to rest.” Watching their retreating backs, I let out a mocking laugh. This was the man I had loved for seven years. For seven years, I had stood by him when he was just a broke kid, fighting alongside him until he secured his VP position. I had taken the fall for him in corporate politics, stayed up countless nights writing his due diligence reports, and even drank myself into a bleeding stomach ulcer at client dinners just to save his projects. Back then, he had held my hand by the hospital bed, his eyes red as he swore, “Chloe, once I make it to the top, I’ll give you the most beautiful wedding in the world.” But the moment Hailey—the college sweetheart who had dumped him for a rich guy, only to return now that she was divorced—reappeared, my seven years of devotion became nothing but a joke. That night, everyone gathered around the outdoor fire pit for a game of Truth or Dare. Hailey had changed into a form-fitting sweater, leaning closely against Brandon. The empty beer bottle spun, pointing directly at Hailey. Logan smirked. “Hailey, truth or dare?” “Truth,” she said with a gentle smile. “What is your biggest regret in life?” The entire circle fell quiet. Hailey lowered her head, her eyes welling with tears. She stole a quick glance at Brandon. “I regret being too young and foolish… and letting go of the boy who loved me more than anything.” A collective, knowing sigh rippled through the crowd. Brandon’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t look at Hailey, but the storm in his eyes was impossible to hide. The bottle spun again. This time, it stopped right in front of me. “Chloe, your turn!” Logan’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Truth. Do you have a boyfriend?” I raised my head. Brandon’s gaze finally locked onto me. He was tense. He was terrified. Terrified that I would lose my mind and expose our seven-year relationship in front of everyone, ruining his touching reunion with his first love. Looking at his handsome, selfish face, a wave of nausea hit me. I picked up my glass of ice water, took a sip, and said calmly, “No. I’m completely single.” The second the words left my mouth, I clearly saw Brandon’s tense shoulders relax. But then, his brows knit together again, seemingly annoyed by how easily and cleanly I had denied him. “Single is great!” Logan quickly filled the silence. “Julian is single too. Sounds like the blue team might have some sparks flying!” Julian, who had been sitting quietly beside me playing with his lighter, let out a soft chuckle. “I certainly hope so.” Those five simple words were like a boulder dropped into a quiet pond. Brandon’s face turned completely black.

When I got back to my room that night, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. It was a barrage of messages from Brandon on Snapchat. “What the hell was that tonight?” “Why are you getting so close to Julian Sterling? Do you have any idea how ruthless he is in this industry?” “Hailey just got back to the States and her mental state is fragile. I’m only looking after her because of our history. Stop acting like a bitter housewife.” Looking at the gaslighting texts on my screen, I didn’t even have the energy to reply. A few minutes later, another message popped up, his tone softening: “Chloe, be good. Just put up with it for a few days. Don’t throw a tantrum. When we get back to New York, I’ll buy you that Chanel bag you wanted.” A slap in the face, followed by a sweet treat. For seven years, he had trained me like a dog with this exact method. Whenever I complained, he would say, “You’re going to be my wife, Chloe. You need to look at the bigger picture. Don’t be petty like other girls.” I shut my phone off completely and tossed it onto the nightstand. The next morning, the backcountry ski rally officially began. The Aspen backcountry was steep, and the temperature had plummeted to negative twenty. Before heading out, I realized I hadn’t packed enough hand warmers. My hands were already stiffening. Brandon walked over holding two pairs of high-end heated ski gloves. We had bought them together before the trip—one pair for him, one for me. I reached out to take them, but he walked right past me, straight to Hailey. “Hailey, your hands get cold easily. Wear these. The heating chip inside lasts for eight hours.” Hailey looked up, pleasantly surprised. “What about you?” “I’m fine. I run hot anyway,” Brandon said, smiling as he ruffled her hair. The colleagues standing around murmured about what a gentleman Brandon was. I stood there, looking at my red, freezing fingers. The very last spark of affection in my heart died right then and there. “Hands out.” A deep voice sounded from above me. I looked up to find Julian standing in front of me. Without waiting for my response, he took my freezing hands and pulled a pair of heavy, warm black professional ski gloves over them. They still held the warmth of his body. “These are…” “My spares,” he said flatly, not even sparing a glance at Brandon. “I don’t like my partner slowing me down because of frostbite.” Though his words were blunt, the warmth of the gloves made my throat tight with unshed tears. Brandon noticed the exchange. His face darkened, and he strode over, grabbing my arm. “Chloe, we need to talk.” He dragged me behind a large pine tree and hissed in a low, furious voice, “Are you insane? Accepting things from another man right in front of me?” I yanked my arm out of his grip and stared at him coldly. “Where were you when my hands were freezing to death?” “I told you, Hailey gets cold easily!” Brandon said, completely righteous. “You’re tough, Chloe. What’s wrong with making a small sacrifice? When did you become so selfish?” I let out a bitter laugh. Me? Selfish? For seven years, I had poured my youth, my career, and my resources into him. And in return, I was called “selfish.” “Brandon,” I said, my voice so quiet and calm it surprised me. “I don’t want your gloves anymore. I don’t want anything of yours.” Without waiting for his reply, I turned and walked back to Julian.

The backcountry route was far more grueling than I had anticipated. Julian was an incredible skier, but he never sped ahead to leave me behind. He stayed exactly three yards ahead of me, carving a path through the fresh powder, stopping at every dangerous turn to wait for me. “Keep your center of gravity low. Don’t be afraid,” his voice came through the walkie-talkie, steady and incredibly grounding. Meanwhile, the red team was a disaster. Hailey screamed the entire way, constantly wiping out or getting her skis stuck. Brandon hovered over her, even taking off his own outer jacket to lay it on the snow so she could sit and rest. During our lunch break at the mid-mountain lodge, I was holding a mug of hot water to warm my hands. Hailey walked over, her eyes rimmed with red. “Chloe,” she said, biting her lip with a victimized expression. “I’m so sorry. I know you and Brandon are close colleagues. He’s been so busy taking care of me that he ignored you. Please don’t be mad at him.” On the surface, it was an apology. In reality, she was claiming ownership, while subtly reducing my seven-year history with Brandon to being “close colleagues.” Before I could speak, Brandon strode over, instantly pulling Hailey behind him. “Chloe, Hailey is easily frightened. Stop giving her attitude.” Looking at Brandon’s protective stance, I found it utterly pathetic. “Brandon, which of your eyes saw me giving her attitude?” “Don’t lie,” Brandon said, his brow furrowed with deep disappointment. “I know you’re upset. But Hailey just got back to the country. She has no one else here. As her old friend, it’s only right that I help her.” “As a senior director of the firm, you have no professional grace. You’re behaving like a jealous child. I’m truly disappointed in you.” I looked at him as if he were a stranger. This was the man I had loved. To protect another woman, he didn’t hesitate to drag my name through the mud in public. “Are you done?” I set my mug down, not giving him another second of my time. “If you’re done, get lost. You’re ruining my lunch.” Infuriated by my dismissive tone, Brandon was about to snap when Julian walked over, carrying two plates of grilled steak. He sat down right next to me, sliding one plate in front of me, his voice casual but dripping with authority. “Eat up. You need to keep your strength. Don’t waste your energy on irrelevant people.” “Julian, don’t cross the line!” Brandon spat, his teeth clenched. Julian didn’t even look up. He cut a piece of steak, chewed it slowly, and then finally raised his cold eyes to Brandon. “Aren’t you overstepping, Brandon?” Julian’s voice was like ice. “You protect your ex, I protect my partner. We mind our own business. Or what? Are you trying to keep both?” Brandon’s face went pale. Julian’s sharp words hit him right where it hurt, leaving him completely speechless. He glared at me one last time, grabbed Hailey’s hand, and stormed off.

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My arm had a four-inch gash, blood dripping from my fingertips. Yet, the first thing my fiancé said when he woke up, the man I had just risked my life to save, was to ask if Hailey Sterling, who was cowering outside the door, was alright. Inside the top-floor conference room of the Cole Group, Julian Carter sat with a bandage on his forehead. He claimed he had “amnesia” from the hit and said he only remembered Hailey. His mother awkwardly told me to be patient and wait for him. Suddenly, my late grandmother’s voice exploded in my mind. “He is faking it. He played this exact same trick on you in your past life, bleeding the Cole family dry while keeping Hailey perfectly safe.” My grandfather slammed three marriage alliance proposals onto the mahogany table. Julian finally looked at me, his voice dismissive. He said he would still go through with our wedding, but demanded I stop making life difficult for Hailey. Without a single second of hesitation, I bypassed the Carter family’s contract and picked up the very last folder. “Grandpa, I choose Greyson Vance.”

Amelia’s POV My arm was sliced open, a four-inch gash oozing blood that dripped steadily onto the floor. But the fiancé I had nearly died saving didn’t care. The moment he opened his eyes, his only concern was whether Hailey Sterling was scared. Inside the VIP conference room of the Cole building, the silence was suffocating. Last night, a massive display shelf in the exhibition hall had collapsed. I had shoved Julian out of the way, but my own arm was ripped open by a jagged, rusty metal bracket. Now, Julian walked in with a small bandage on his forehead. He walked right past me, bleeding and pale, and wrapped his arms around Hailey, who was sobbing softly. “Don’t cry, Hailey. I remember you.” Hailey clung to his chest, her voice trembling. “Julian, I thought you forgot about me.” Julian’s mother smiled nervously at me. “Amelia, sweetie, Julian bumped his head last night. His memory is just a bit scrambled. You two grew up together, so I’m sure you’ll wait for him to recover, right?” I stared at the hugging couple. My wound felt freezing cold, matching the ice in my chest. Right then, a familiar, furious voice echoed in my head. “That pathetic jerk is faking amnesia! In your last life, he used this exact trick to manipulate you. He drained our family’s fortune to climb to the top while keeping Hailey safe. You died alone in a hospital bed because of them! I am still so angry!” My pupils shrunk. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. It was my Grandma Martha’s voice. She had died seven years ago! This was a wake-up call. Julian was faking amnesia just to back out of our engagement without looking like the bad guy. My grandfather, Arthur Cole, tapped his cane heavily against the floor. He signaled his assistant to lay out the marriage contracts. “Amelia, whoever you choose will get the Cole Group’s ten-billion-dollar project. I’m only asking you once. Have you made up your mind?” The Carter family’s proposal sat right in the middle. The very last one belonged to Greyson Vance. He was the sole heir of the Vance Group. We had been rivals since childhood, arguing every single time we met. Grandma’s voice screamed in my head. “Pick Greyson! In your past life, after the Carters threw you out, he was the only one who searched for you in the pouring rain and took you in. He has a sarcastic mouth, but his heart is pure gold! Amelia, trust me!” Julian finally deigned to look at me. “I will still marry you, Amelia. But Hailey is fragile. I love her now, so you have to promise not to bully her.” Hailey peeked from behind his back. “Amelia, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to be the only one Julian remembers.” In the past, if Julian even frowned, I would blame myself. But now, looking at his lying, smug face, I just felt sick. I didn’t hesitate. I reached past the Carter family’s folder and grabbed the last proposal. “Grandpa, I choose Greyson Vance.” “I’ll marry him.” The room erupted into chaos. The calm mask on Julian’s face shattered. He stared at me in pure disbelief. “Amelia, are you insane? You’re throwing away our future and choosing an enemy just to throw a tantrum?!” I didn’t even look at him. In front of everyone, I ripped off the promise bracelet I had worn for ten years and threw it onto the Carter family’s folder like trash. “It’s not a tantrum. You simply don’t deserve me.” In my head, Grandma cheered. “Yes! That’s my girl! If a man is trash, throw him in the dumpster!” As soon as the meeting ended, Julian and his friends blocked my path in the hallway. His friend, Tyler Brooks, sneered immediately. “Amelia, are you serious about Greyson? Come on, everyone knows you’ve been obsessed with Julian for years. He just has temporary memory loss, he’s not dead. Who are you trying to put a show for?” Hearing this, Julian’s expression softened, his ego returning. He looked down at me. “I know you’re just angry. I’ll still marry you. But Hailey just got back to the country. Don’t go around bothering her.” Grandma spat in my mind. “The nerve of this guy! Who does he think he is?” I scoffed. “And how exactly did I bother her?” Before the words fully left my mouth, Hailey pushed a heavy metal cart loaded with files right toward me. She acted like she didn’t see me, ramming it straight into my injured arm. My wound tore open again. Fresh blood soaked through my bandage instantly. Yet, Hailey cried louder than me. “Amelia! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you! Please don’t hate me!” She sobbed, shrinking behind Julian. Julian didn’t even look at my bleeding arm. He shielded Hailey protectively. “Amelia! It was an accident! She apologized, what more do you want?!” Hailey raised her hand. “Maybe I should slap myself… if that makes Amelia feel better…” Julian grabbed her wrist, glaring at me. “Are you happy now? Do you have to use your status as the Cole heiress to bully people?” If this were the past, I would have desperately explained that I didn’t do anything. But today, I realized trying to reason with an idiot was pointless. It was better to just hit them. I stepped forward, raising my uninjured right hand. Smack! A loud, solid slap landed squarely on Hailey’s face. The hallway went dead silent. Hailey touched her swelling cheek, her eyes wide with shock. “That,” I said coldly, “is what using my status to bully someone actually looks like.” Julian lost his mind. “Amelia! How dare you!” Smack! I swung back and slapped Julian right across his face. “And that is what bullying looks like. Got it?” I shook my numb hand, looking at them like they were bugs. Julian had been pampered his entire life. This slap completely shattered his pride. Rage burned in his eyes. “Amelia! If you walk away today, I swear, even if you beg me on your knees, I will never look at you again!” “Then you better sew your eyes shut.” I pressed the elevator button. As the doors slid open, I left him with one last line: “Because no one is going to wait for you by the trash can.” As the doors closed, Grandma laughed hysterically in my head. “Incredible! That’s how you teach them a lesson! Don’t be afraid, Amelia, I’ve got your back!”

Amelia’s POV I walked toward the break room and heard Hailey’s muffled giggles coming through the gap in the door. “Julian, Amelia slapped you in public. Are you really not mad?” Julian’s voice was arrogant and cold. “She’s just throwing a fit. She’s been clinging to me like a desperate dog for years. She can’t live without me. I bet you within three days, she’ll come crawling back, begging for my forgiveness.” Standing outside, my blood turned to ice. The amnesia was indeed a lie. The manipulation and contempt were real. He viewed me as a toy he could discard and retrieve whenever he pleased. “See? He’s a parasite!” Grandma was shaking with rage. “If a dog bites you, don’t try to talk to it. Let’s go!” I turned to leave, but a sudden commotion happened at the end of the hallway. A waiter slipped, and a tray of boiling hot coffee and shattered ceramic cups came flying right toward me. The break room door flew open. Julian saw the hot liquid flying toward my face. He instinctively took a step toward me, but Hailey shrieked and grabbed his arm. “Julian, I’m scared!” That split second of hesitation was all it took. Julian turned and hugged Hailey instead. I closed my eyes, bracing for the pain. But right before the boiling coffee could scald my face, a pair of strong arms pulled me hard into a broad chest. A man used his expensive designer jacket to shield me, blocking every drop of hot coffee and flying shard. A clean, cedarwood scent wrapped around me, and a deep voice grumbled over my head. “Amelia, are you stupid? Why didn’t you dodge?!” I looked up in shock. Greyson Vance was frowning, his dark eyes filled with suppressed anger. He stood before me like a wall, keeping me safe from the danger. Grandma let out a huge sigh of relief in my head. “That’s him! That’s the same protective back from your past life! He might have a smart mouth, but he actually shows up when it matters!” Julian’s face turned green when he saw who it was. He marched over and ordered, “Amelia, get over here!” I didn’t move. Greyson sneered, keeping his hand firmly on my shoulder. He glared at Julian like a wolf guarding his territory. “Her arm is literally bleeding, and you want her to go over to you so she can be your shield again?” Julian’s face flushed with anger. “This is between her and me!” “Not anymore.” Greyson smirked. “Amelia’s grandfather called me to pick up my fiancée. She chose me. Mr. Carter, don’t tell me you don’t know you’ve been dumped yet?” The word “fiancée” hit Julian like a sledgehammer. Hailey stopped crying out of sheer shock. Julian stared at me as if I were a stranger. “Are you crazy? You’re marrying this jerk just to get back at me?” This time, my heart didn’t ache. I only felt an incredible rush of freedom. “Julian, don’t flatter yourself. Greyson is ten thousand times better than you.” Greyson raised an eyebrow, looking down at me. “Can you walk, fiancée?” I nodded. He didn’t overstep by carrying me, but he offered his arm. “Let’s go get you patched up.” At the hospital. The doctor cut open my bloody sleeve. As the disinfectant hit the wound, I turned pale and bit my lip, refusing to make a sound. Greyson leaned against the doorframe, watching me coldly. “In the past, you’d cry for hours if Julian so much as sighed. Now your arm is practically ripped open, and you’re acting tough?” I glared at him. “No one will think you’re mute if you keep your mouth shut.” Greyson chuckled. “What? You were pretty quick to use me as a shield earlier.” I stayed quiet for a moment, then whispered, “Greyson, I didn’t choose you because I like you.” “Obviously. If you suddenly liked me, I’d have the doctor check your head too.” Greyson stopped smiling and looked at me with intense seriousness. “Amelia, you can use me to escape. But remember this: once you’re engaged to me, Julian has no right to touch you. Don’t you dare run back to him the moment you feel a little lonely.” “I would rather die than go back to him,” I said firmly. Greyson stared at me for three seconds, a faint smile touching his lips. “Good.” When we walked out of the clinic, Julian and Hailey were waiting by the exit. Seeing us walk out side-by-side, Julian’s face was incredibly dark. “Amelia, I’m taking you home. Stop making a scene in public.” He really believed I was just playing hard to get. Greyson casually switched the medicine bag to his left hand, and naturally wrapped his right arm around my waist, pulling me close. “No need to worry, Mr. Carter. The only one looking pathetic here is the one who got thrown out.” Julian’s eyes turned red as he stared at Greyson’s hand on my waist. “Take your hands off her!” Greyson didn’t back down. He leaned in close to my ear, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “Fiancée, there’s a dog blocking our path. Shall we go?” I leaned into his chest and nodded. “Yes, let’s go.” At the curb, Greyson opened the car door for me, naturally placing his hand over the frame to protect my head. As he got into the driver’s seat, I asked softly, “Why did you show up so fast?” Greyson started the engine. “Your grandfather called and said two stray dogs were barking at you.” “So you just came?” “Why wouldn’t I?” Greyson stepped on the gas, the sports car roaring as we left Julian in the dust. “Did you want me to leave you there to watch their cheap drama?” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. In my mind, Grandma clicked her tongue in satisfaction. “See? That’s a real man! Let the trash have the trash. Your good life is just starting!”

Amelia’s POV The Cole family’s banquet to announce the new marriage alliance was scheduled for two days later. During those two days, Julian called me over a dozen times. I blocked every single number. Finally, he sent a text message filled with his usual arrogance: Don’t take this joke too far. Our families’ alliance is not a toy for you to use to make me bow to you. Hailey has been crying for two days because of your slap. I expect an apology from you at the banquet tonight. I stared at the screen, scoffed, and handed the phone directly to my grandfather. My grandfather’s face darkened with rage after reading it. “Amelia, I really misjudged that boy.” I sat in the study, looking at my bandaged arm calmly. “Grandpa, I did too. This time, I want to choose someone who won’t hesitate to stand by me.” Grandma clapped happily in my head. “Exactly! A man who doesn’t respect himself is like rotten cabbage! Tonight, let’s show the Carters what it means to be out of their league!” That evening, the Cole estate was brightly lit. Everyone assumed the stars of the night would be Julian and me. Julian’s mother was wearing a designer gown, boasting to the guests. “Oh, Amelia is practically my own daughter. Julian marrying her is our family’s blessing.” She was already acting like she owned the place. Julian stood in the center of the crowd holding a glass of champagne, looking extremely confident. Hailey stood beside him in a simple white dress. When people asked about her identity, she looked down. “I’m just Julian’s friend. I don’t want to get in the way of his engagement with Amelia…” Her victim act made me look like some villainous, jealous woman. I watched from the entrance with absolute indifference. The grand doors opened, and I walked in, holding my grandfather’s arm. Julian’s eyes lit up the moment he saw me. He took a step forward, but the crowd suddenly parted. Greyson had arrived. He wore a custom black suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and tall frame. His expression was cold and sharp. He ignored the guests trying to greet him and walked straight to me. In front of everyone, he ignored Julian entirely and asked softly, “Does your arm still hurt?” I blinked, touched by his concern. “Much better.” Greyson checked my bandage to make sure there was no blood, then turned to my grandfather, his cold demeanor softening. “Mr. Cole, apologies for being late.” My grandfather laughed heartily. “Just in time!” Not far away, Julian’s face turned pale. He stared at Greyson and me standing together. Hailey leaned against him weakly. “Julian, Amelia looks so beautiful tonight. She must be standing with Mr. Vance just to make you jealous. Don’t be mad, I’ll go talk to her later…” “Shut up,” Julian snapped, his eyes glued to me. I felt his gaze, but I felt absolutely nothing. My grandfather stepped onto the stage, and the ballroom fell silent. Julian’s mother was still daydreaming, nudging Julian to get ready to walk up. But Julian’s feet felt like they were glued to the floor as he watched Greyson stand mere inches from me. My grandfather raised the microphone, his strong voice echoing through the hall. “Thank you all for coming. Tonight, I want you to witness my granddaughter Amelia’s engagement. The Cole family and the Vance family have finalized our alliance. Amelia is now officially engaged to Greyson Vance!” The room erupted into shocked whispers! The smile on Julian’s mother’s face froze. She pushed through the crowd, outraged. “Mr. Cole! There must be a mistake! Amelia and Julian grew up together! Isn’t the alliance with the Carters?!” My grandfather looked down at her with a cold sneer. “Grew up together? Does that give your son the right to treat my granddaughter like garbage?” Julian’s mother turned pale. Julian pushed through the crowd, staring at me, his voice shaking. “Amelia, are you serious? You’re playing with your own marriage just to hurt me?” My voice was crystal clear. “I told you, I choose Greyson. I never play games.” Seeing this, Hailey rushed forward with teary eyes. “Amelia! Is this because of me? If you’re angry, I’ll leave right now! Don’t ruin your life over a tantrum. Julian loves you!” The guests’ looks turned suspicious. Before I could speak, Greyson let out a cold laugh. “Miss Sterling, if you donated your brain, I doubt anyone would want it.” Greyson’s eyes were like ice as he exposed her in front of everyone. “You claim you care about Amelia, yet you’re clinging to her ex-fiancé like glue? This isn’t a soap opera. Julian is just trash that the Cole family threw out. There’s no need to play the tragic martyr here.” Someone in the crowd laughed out loud. Hailey’s face flushed bright red, tears stuck on her lashes. Julian stepped in front of her, furious. “Greyson! Watch your mouth!” Greyson calmly dusted off his sleeve, looking at him with utter disdain. “Did you watch yours when you treated Amelia like trash? Oh, does it hurt now? Deal with it.” Julian was shaking with rage. I watched silently. In the past, I would have desperately explained myself to avoid Julian’s misunderstanding. But now, Greyson stood by my side, slapping every lie back into their faces. In my mind, Grandma laughed happily. “Amazing! I love this guy! You have to scald trash with boiling water!”

Amelia’s POV As the banquet drew to a close, Julian cornered me in a quiet hallway like a desperate dog. His eyes were bloodshot. “Amelia, you win! You got your revenge, and you dragged my family’s name through the mud! If you call off this fake engagement right now, I will take you to get our marriage license tomorrow!” Even now, he still thought I was playing hard to get. I looked at his face, a face I used to love, and found it pathetic. “Julian, do you have trouble understanding English?” I looked at him coldly. “I didn’t do this to win.” “I did this because you genuinely disgust me.” I shoved past his shoulder and walked away. At the end of the hallway, I let out a long breath. Greyson handed me a glass of warm water, smirking. “You looked so tough back there, but now your legs are shaking?” I took the glass and glared at him. “Would you die if you stopped teasing me for one second?” “Probably.” Greyson looked at me, a rare warmth in his dark eyes. “But honestly, Amelia, you did great tonight.” My eyes welled up with tears. Suddenly, a commotion broke out near the restroom. Hailey was sitting on the wet floor, her dress ruined, clutching a broken bracelet, sobbing. She claimed she only wanted to look at my engagement bracelet, but I pushed her. By the time I arrived, Julian had already helped her up. His first words to me were a demand. “Why did you push her?” I looked at the broken bracelet in Hailey’s hand. It wasn’t my engagement bracelet. Mine was still securely on my wrist. The fake one Hailey held was cheap and dull. But because she was crying so hard, the onlookers were already whispering about my “terrible temper.” Grandma cursed in my head. “Again with this trick! In your past life, she broke your jewelry and cried, making you look like the bad guy! Don’t let her get away with it!” I didn’t rush to defend myself. I walked up to Hailey, kneeled down, and asked calmly, “You say I pushed you?” Hailey flinched, shrinking into Julian’s arms. “Amelia, I don’t blame you. You’re just stressed today. I know you didn’t mean it.” “So you’re saying I did.” I nodded, grabbed Hailey’s wrist, and took the broken bracelet from her hand. Hailey shrieked, “What are you doing?!” I held the broken bracelet up to the light for everyone to see. “The diamonds on my bracelet are custom-cut, and there is a Cole family crest engraved on the inner band. Many people here have seen it. This cheap plastic piece in your hand doesn’t have the crest.” Julian’s face changed. Hailey stopped crying for a second, then quickly stammered, “I… I don’t know about jewelry. I just saw yours and wanted to look…” Greyson walked through the crowd, his voice chilling. “You don’t know about jewelry, but you certainly know how to pick a restroom with no cameras to stage a fall.” Hailey looked at him with teary eyes. “Mr. Vance, why do you keep targeting me?” “Because your acting is terrible.” Greyson turned to the staff. “Check who entered the restroom. There are too many eyes at this party. Crying loud doesn’t make you right.” A young waitress stepped forward, hesitating. “I… I saw this lady squatting by the door by herself. She was holding something the whole time. Miss Cole only walked in after she was already on the floor.” Hailey’s face drained of color. Julian tried to find an excuse. “Maybe she was just confused because she was scared.” I looked at him, the last trace of warmth in my heart freezing over. “Julian, you will always find an excuse for her.” Julian opened his mouth, but no words came out. Hailey sobbed, shaking her head. “No, Amelia, I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just afraid you hated me…” I tossed the fake bracelet into the trash can. “What you’re afraid of is none of my business. Next time you want to put on a show, use something cheap. You are not worthy of touching anything related to my family.” I turned and walked away. Greyson followed me, draping his jacket over my shoulders. “Thank you,” I murmured. “For what?” Greyson’s tone was still teasing. “If you had started explaining yourself back there, I would have really lost respect for you.” I glared at him. Grandma laughed in my head. “Good glare. In a marriage, you can’t let the man always have the upper hand.” My ears turned red. We weren’t even married yet, and Grandma was already calling it a marriage. Greyson noticed my red ears. “Are you cursing at me in your head?” “What?” I gasped. “Whenever you curse at me, your face gives it away.” Feeling guilty, I snapped, “You think too much.” Greyson didn’t push. He adjusted the jacket around my shoulders. “Let’s go. Your grandfather is looking for you. You did great tonight, don’t ruin it by catching a cold.” Hearing him say “fiancée” made my heart skip a beat. When Julian said it, it felt like a chore. But when Greyson said it, it felt safe. Grandma whispered, “Amelia, is your heart fluttering?” I replied internally, “No.” Grandma smirked. “Sure, honey. I’m not blind.” Greyson drove me back to the Cole estate. As I reached for the door handle, he stopped me. “Are you free tomorrow?” I looked at him warily. “Why?” “My grandmother wants to meet you,” he said. “If you don’t want to go, I’ll tell her no.” I blinked in surprise. I thought he would just demand I go, but he actually asked for my consent first. Grandma murmured, “He has manners.” I thought about it. “I’ll go. Since we are engaged, it’s only right to meet your family.” Greyson nodded, adding, “My grandmother’s name is Evelyn. She’s very direct. If she says something you don’t like, just argue back. No one in the Vance family will make you swallow your pride.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Is that how your family teaches you to treat guests?” “Our family doesn’t teach people to take insult.”

Amelia’s POV His words were quiet, but they made my heart swell. When I visited the Carters in the past, everyone praised me for being “obedient.” Obedient meant waiting for Julian when he was busy, yielding to Hailey when she arrived, and letting Julian’s mother walk all over me. The next day, I prepared myself for a difficult meeting with his grandmother. Mrs. Evelyn Vance sat in the garden. Despite her white hair, her eyes were sharp. She looked me up and down. “I heard you used to be obsessed with the Carter heir?” Greyson frowned. “Grandmother.” Evelyn waved her hand dismissively. “I’m asking her, not you.” I didn’t dodge the question. “I was.” “And now?” “Not anymore.” Evelyn stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled. “Good. Loving the wrong person isn’t embarrassing. Knowing they are trash and still jumping back into the dumpster is.” Grandma Martha nodded vigorously in my head. “I like this old lady! She speaks the truth!” Greyson drank his tea, hiding a smile. For the first time, I felt like this alliance wasn’t as cold as I thought. In the afternoon, Evelyn showed me an old photo album. There were pictures of Greyson as a boy, looking grumpy in the yard, while a younger me made faces at him in the background. I was stunned. “I don’t remember this.” Evelyn chuckled. “You had just argued with him, promising you’d never talk to him again. Then you turned around and stole his birthday cake.” Greyson cleared his throat. “Grandmother, that’s enough.” I stared at the photo. It turned out Greyson and I weren’t always enemies. In the years I had ignored, he was always there, standing just a little out of my sight. As we prepared to leave, Evelyn held my hand. “If you ever feel wronged, come to me. Don’t be afraid of Greyson. He looks mean, but his heart is soft.” Greyson coughed behind us. I smiled. “I will. Thank you.” Next, I decided to go to the Carter estate to pack up my belongings. This wasn’t a sudden decision. Growing up with Julian meant I had left too many things at his house. Books, photos, gifts, a scarf I spent weeks knitting, and a necklace Julian claimed he was “keeping safe” for me. Grandma said a clean break required action. “Take everything back. Leave nothing behind. Let them know you aren’t playing games; you are truly gone.” I agreed. I didn’t sneak in. I had the Cole family driver park right at their front door and brought two movers with me. Julian’s mother came out, her smile stiff. “Amelia? Julian isn’t home. Why don’t you come in and wait?” “No need,” I said. “I’m just here to take my things. I’ll leave once I’m done.” Her smile vanished. Several Carter relatives were in the living room, whispering. In the past, I would bring them gifts and help host. Today, I didn’t even take off my shoes. Julian’s mother whispered, “Amelia, let’s talk when Julian gets back. You two have years of history. Making a scene like this is embarrassing.” I replied calmly, “I didn’t start this.” The movers went upstairs and quickly brought down several boxes. The first was full of my books, the second was old gifts, and the third had albums and the hand-knitted scarf. I touched the dark grey scarf, my fingers pausing. I had stayed up late learning how to knit because Julian said he was cold in the winter. But after Hailey returned, he never wore it once, claiming it didn’t match his style. I pulled the scarf out and threw it into the trash can in front of everyone. Julian’s mother gasped. “Amelia!” I picked up the photo album. It was filled with photos of Julian and me. I didn’t tear them; I simply took out my solo photos and left the rest on the table. “These belong to the Carters’ memories, not mine.” Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires echoed outside. Julian rushed in, his face dark as he saw the boxes. “Amelia, what the hell are you doing?” “Moving out.” “Do you have to make a joke out of us?” I looked at him. “Julian, I kept my things here because I thought I was welcome. Now I know I’m not. What’s so funny about that?” Julian grabbed my wrist. “Have you had enough of this tantrum?” He squeezed hard, aggravating my injured arm. I gasped in pain. In the next second, Greyson’s voice boomed from the door. “Let go of her.” He had arrived with his own driver. When Julian didn’t let go, Greyson marched over, grabbed Julian’s wrist, and forced him back. “She said she’s leaving. Are you deaf?” Julian grit his teeth. “This is between her and me.” “She’s my fiancée now.” Greyson’s eyes were freezing. “Before you touch her, remember your place.” I grabbed the last necklace from the table and put it in my bag. I turned to Julian’s mother. “You don’t need to save a room for me anymore.” I walked out of the house. The sun was bright outside. The boxes were loaded into the trunk. Grandma whispered gently, “This is how you leave, Amelia.” I sat in the car, never looking back. I knew Julian was watching, and I knew if I looked back even once, he would think he still had a chance. Greyson sat next to me, unusually quiet. After a long time, he asked, “Does it hurt?” I touched my bruised wrist. “A little.” “I wasn’t asking about your wrist.” I froze. The Carter estate grew smaller in the rearview mirror. I whispered, “It hurts. But I can bear it.” Greyson kept his eyes on the road. “You don’t have to keep bearing it. From now on, if it hurts, say so. If you want to scream, do it. You didn’t leave the Carters just to learn how to be quiet.” My eyes stung, and I gave a quiet nod.

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