Category: English

On my way to pick up my son from school, I scrolled through a thread on a popular forum. “What’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?” The comments were a wild mix. Some people confessed to affairs, others to streaking through a park. The discussion was lively. I swiped past, uninterested. Until a familiar profile picture caught my eye. Her answer was about how she’d ruined a girl’s life with a single sentence. “She was my boss’s fiancée, young and beautiful.” “The night before her wedding, she was kidnapped. My boss sent me to deliver the ransom.” “I suggested we wait a few days. Let a little hardship teach her to behave.” “Turns out she couldn’t handle it. The kidnappers broke her mind. She ended up in a psychiatric hospital.” “This is her third year locked away.” “And me? I finally married my boss.” That one word, finally, dripped with the sweet satisfaction of a long-nurtured plan. It felt like a challenge, three years in the making. 1 The thread was popular. In just a few minutes, her comment had been voted to the top. Sarah had even posted a picture. Two hands, fingers intertwined. On them were the wedding rings I had designed myself but never had the chance to wear. “I don’t think I did anything wrong,” she continued in a reply. “If I had to do it a hundred times over, I’d make the same choice every time.” “After all, I’m the only one in this world who deserves him.” “Not some spoiled, pampered princess who only knows how to cry.” She wrote about the struggles she and Martin Vance had overcome together, how they had propped up a struggling company. She painted a picture of late nights, working side-by-side, relying on each other. But she never mentioned where Martin’s startup capital had come from. It wasn’t time to pick up Leo yet. While waiting at a red light, a dozen more replies popped up. Some called her shameless, warning her that what goes around comes around. Others argued it wasn’t her fault, that I was just mentally weak. Then, someone managed to dig up her identity and found the photos that had gone viral all those years ago. Staring at the grainy image, I felt a jolt. It was like peering through a crack in time. I saw her again—the lost, helpless girl from three years ago. Me. Stripped naked and thrown onto the street. Walking, bare and exposed, into the glare of the media’s flashbulbs. A stark contrast to the polished, radiant Sarah standing proudly at Martin’s side. Martin had spent a fortune to scrub the story from the headlines, but the humiliation was forever seared into the memory of the internet. The light turned green. I sighed and pressed the accelerator. By the next intersection, her comment had been deleted. But a new text message had appeared on my phone, sent five minutes ago. “Eliza, are you okay?” The number was unfamiliar. There was no name. But in this world, only one person ever called me Eliza in that particular way. I hesitated for a moment, then deleted the message. His concern had come three years too late. Whether I was okay or not had long ceased to be his business. The car moved forward. I had no time to look back. Only sometimes, when the autumn leaves swirled past my windshield, would I remember a life that felt a million miles away. 2 Before I turned twenty-three, I had never known a day of hardship. I was the jewel of my family, a princess in the city’s high society. A chauffeur drove me everywhere; housekeepers attended to my every need. Even my arranged marriage was to Martin Vance, the handsome and brilliant rising star of the elite. Everyone used to say it. “Eliza Chen has a charmed life. She’s the brightest star in the city.” That all ended the night before my wedding, when I was taken. They demanded an astronomical ransom from my family. Eighty million dollars. But I wasn’t afraid. My parents adored me. Martin had sworn he’d marry no one else. They would liquidate every asset they had to bring me home safely. At first, the kidnappers were almost polite. But on the seventh day, a bucket of ice-cold water woke me from my dream. One of them grabbed me by the hair and kicked me to the floor. “Your family said they couldn’t pay. So what the hell is this?” I looked up. On the television was Martin’s triumphant face. He was standing next to Sarah at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. The screen behind them blazed with a headline: “Vance Industries Celebrates Initial Success, Secures Further $80 Million for New Project.” Eighty million. The exact amount. The kidnappers let me make one last call to Martin. When the line connected, it was Sarah’s voice that answered. “Mr. Vance is busy. May I ask who’s calling?” “Oh, it’s you, Miss Chen. He’s unavailable.” Her voice then became a playful murmur, clearly meant for someone in the room with her. “Oh, Martin, stop it… the press conference is about to start. You’re wrinkling my dress, how am I supposed to face the reporters…?” The line went dead, cutting off the intimate sounds. It was a silent declaration from Martin. Between love and ambition, he chose ambition. Between me and Sarah, he chose Sarah. I stood there, frozen, unable to process it. I didn’t notice the way the kidnappers’ eyes had changed as they looked at me. On the eighth day, the ransom didn’t arrive. They broke one of my fingers as a warning. Martin didn’t respond. He didn’t yield. On the ninth day, the ransom still hadn’t arrived. They filmed me while they violated me, threatening to ruin my name forever. Martin remained silent. That afternoon, his company released a formal statement. “Vance Industries will never bow to criminals.” On the tenth day, my parents announced they were liquidating their assets in the country and moving overseas. I had been completely abandoned, an asset that had lost its value. The kidnappers were furious. Their rage turned on me. They used every method they could think of to torture and humiliate me. By then, both they and I were clinging to one last, desperate thread of hope. That someone, anyone, would come. But no one did. While I was imprisoned, Martin and Sarah grew closer. The news was full of them. Attending galas, hosting events. Clinking champagne glasses, basking in the glow of success. Every financial news channel was reporting on it. Martin’s investment was a massive success. He was on track to become the wealthiest man in the city. A golden road stretched out before him. A pack of ravenous demons was behind me. They unleashed all their rage and frustration on my body. Whips, daggers, branding irons, and steel needles. I was begging for life and praying for death. On the fifteenth day, I found a chance and I ran. I can’t recall the pain or the obstacles of that escape. I just remember running. Running until my feet were numb, until my wounds split open, until I was running on nothing but my last breath. Just as I was about to collapse, to give up, a sound drifted through the air. Music. It pointed the way. 3 I didn’t care that I was naked. I didn’t care about dignity or shame. All I wanted was to live. But when I stumbled into the clearing, I saw Martin. He was with Sarah, hosting a charity event in a rural town. It was a huge spectacle, swarming with reporters. How perfect. He had money for investments, for charity, but not to ransom his own fiancée. He had time for press conferences and interviews, but not to save his own fiancée. He was here, soaking in praise and applause, while he had left me to suffer every imaginable horror at the hands of monsters. I stood there, naked and frozen, a grotesque clown at their party. I let them all stare at the canvas of wounds that covered my body. In that moment, every camera turned to me. Martin’s face went cold. He didn’t ask if I was hurt. He didn’t ask what I had been through. He only said one thing. “Eliza, what kind of scene are you making?” A scene? A scene? So all the pain, all the torture I had endured… In his eyes, it was just a tantrum, a desperate bid for attention. My blood and my scars were less important to him than a speck of dust on the ground. I stumbled toward him, sobbing. “Why? Why didn’t you save me?” “Why? I’m your fiancée! We grew up together, we were supposed to spend our lives together…” My voice broke. “I’m… I’m carrying…” Before I could finish, Martin cut me off, his voice cold and hard. In front of everyone, he pushed my hand away. His gaze was heavy, a complex mix of emotions I couldn’t decipher. “Eliza, why can’t you just learn to behave?” he said. “The moment I got the news, I sent Sarah to negotiate. I told you that once this busy period was over, the money would be sent. You were never in any real danger. Why do you have to be so dramatic?” Who would use their own life, their own dignity, for drama? I stared at the man I had loved since I was a child, my mind reeling in disbelief. But even as the last of my tears dried on my cheeks, his expression never softened. He just seemed vaguely annoyed that I had disrupted his charity event. Finally, someone wrapped me in a blanket and led me away. Sarah came over, feigning concern. But as she did, she deliberately pulled down the silk scarf from her neck, revealing a fresh love bite on her skin. “Curious, aren’t you?” she whispered. “Wondering why your parents didn’t come to save you?” “Wondering why Martin’s attitude toward you has changed so drastically?” Her voice was a venomous caress. “Because… you’re not their daughter.” Sarah told me everything. The day the ransom note arrived, my parents were frantic. They were ready to liquidate everything to save me. But Martin stopped them. He produced a paternity test. It proved I was an imposter, a baby switched at birth by a vengeful nanny. The real heiress, their true daughter, had died years ago from that same nanny’s abuse. That revelation stopped my parents in their tracks. The jewel of the family… was a fake. Years of love made it impossible for them to completely abandon me. But the knowledge that they had raised their daughter’s killer—or at least, the child who had taken her place—paralyzed them. Torn, they did the only thing they could. They left me a dowry of eighty million dollars and entrusted my care to Martin. In their minds, they had done their duty. They just never imagined Martin could be so ruthless. He took that eighty million—my dowry, my ransom, my life savings—and poured it into his new project. It made him a tycoon. It made him a legend. And it left me to be tortured until I had nothing left. That day, I cried until I had no tears left. When I looked up, Martin was standing over me. He was silhouetted against the light. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could see the necklace around his neck. It matched the one Sarah was wearing. He looked down at me. “Eliza,” he said, his voice low. “I won’t abandon you just because of this… disgrace.” “But I want you to remember, you have no family to run back to anymore.” “If you want to marry me, if you want to be Mrs. Vance, you need to learn to behave.” Everyone told me this was his way of extending an olive branch. They said he knew my prideful nature, knew about my traumatic experience, and yet he was still willing to accept and forgive me. They said it was proof that he loved me. But all I heard was a threat. The old Eliza would have screamed. She would have raged. She would have burned the world down. But after being beaten into submission by fate, I was afraid. I realized my entire life was now in Martin’s hands. My future, my happiness, my very existence. It was all up to him. So, I did as he wished. I learned to behave. 4 At dinner, I pretended not to see the elegant, smiling Sarah sitting across from me. I silently swallowed every piece of food they placed on my plate. Even when my stomach churned. Even when my heart was hammering against my ribs. I didn’t dare show any disgust. I was too afraid. Terrified of that feeling of having nothing, of being completely at the mercy of others. Compared to the leaves and garbage I’d been forced to eat in that cage, swallowing the food on my plate was easy. I tried so hard to be the perfect, obedient wife-to-be, tucking away all my pride and my fire. But there was one thing I couldn’t do. I couldn’t bear Martin’s touch. His every caress, the sound of his breathing… It threw me back to those fifteen days in hell. It made me see the faces of my captors, feel their hands on me. I was terrified. Terrified of remembering. Terrified of the barely-healed scars being ripped open again. Whenever Martin came near me, whenever he touched me, I would start shaking uncontrollably. Then I would scream and scramble away, pushing him off me with all my strength. Martin never hit me, not like they did. He would just watch me, his voice cold and distant. “Eliza, haven’t you made enough of a scene?” I had lost the right to make scenes long ago. But I couldn’t speak, couldn’t meet his eyes. I could only curl into a ball in the corner, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, holding onto the last shreds of my dignity. The more I withdrew, the angrier he became. The night of his birthday, he was drunk. He yanked me to my feet, grabbing my face in his hands. “Say something! Why won’t you say anything?” he demanded. “You used to be the one who never shut up, who was always clinging to me. What is this, some act? Playing the untouchable saint?” “Is this still about that one little incident? How long are you going to keep this up?” His voice dropped to a low growl. “Eliza, why can’t you just learn to behave…” Something had set him off that night. He was determined to be with me. He tore at my clothes, his hands rough. He pinned me down, his mouth closing over mine. In that instant, the carefully buried terror erupted. The mattress beneath me became an iron cage. The man above me became one of my captors. It felt like every scar on my body was splitting open, dragging me back into that endless nightmare. I lost all reason. All that was left was the instinct to survive. In a blind panic, I grabbed the crystal vase from the nightstand and swung. Sarah burst in to find Martin on the floor, covered in blood. She made a huge show of it, calling the police, calling an ambulance. “Help! Somebody help!” she screamed. “Eliza’s gone insane! She’s trying to kill him!” And just like that, I was taken away by the police. Sarah produced the photos from the charity event, the ones of me naked and distraught. She claimed I’d had mental health issues for years. She had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. Martin handled all the arrangements. From setting up a trust fund to cover my expenses to arranging my meals, he took care of everything. Before they left, he looked at me. “Eliza,” he said. “You be a good girl in here, you hear me?” “When you’re better, I’ll come take you home.” Everyone knew it was a lie. The rumors about him and Sarah were already everywhere. He needed a plausible excuse to get rid of me, the inconvenient baggage from his past. So, I had to be the crazy one. … An autumn leaf drifted onto the windshield, and the school bell rang, pulling me back to the present. I looked up, searching the crowd of children for a familiar face. Instead, I saw Martin. He looked surprised, then a flicker of something like joy crossed his face. He hurried through the throng of parents toward me. “Eliza? What are you doing here?” “You were discharged? Why didn’t you call me? Do you have any idea…” Before he could finish, a small, cherubic boy ran up and hugged my leg. “Mommy, what took you so long?” “All the kids at school made a bet to see whose mom would pick them up first. I’m going to lose again!” I smiled and squeezed his cheek, about to comfort him. But it was Martin who spoke first, his eyes suddenly red. 5 He crouched down, his gaze fixed on Leo. His face was a canvas of shock and disbelief. “This is… your son?” “How… How is that possible…?” Martin’s eyes lifted from Leo to me. His deep-set gaze was filled with an emotion I couldn’t name. It was almost an accusation. As if he was demanding to know why I had kept something so important from him. And underneath, there was something else. Regret. As if he was finally realizing he had left both me and his child in that hell. But I knew Martin. Nothing—not me, not a child—would have changed his decision. Even if he had known I was pregnant back then, he still would not have come for me. I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of Leo. I took my son’s hand, lifted him into the car seat, and positioned my body to block Martin’s view. “Leo is my son. He has nothing to do with you.” “I hear you and Sarah are getting married soon. Congratulations.” “From now on, let’s live our own lives. Don’t contact me again.” The moment Martin had me committed, any relationship between us was over. After I was discharged, I gained access to a trust fund my parents had left for me. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to live comfortably. I didn’t need Martin. I didn’t need anyone. I just wanted to cut all ties with the past. Leo, always observant, sensed the strange tension between us. He glanced curiously at Martin but stayed quiet, obediently fastening his seatbelt. As I turned to close the door, Martin’s hand shot out, bracing it open. The door frame bit into his flesh, drawing blood, but he refused to let go. “Now that you’re out, come home,” he said, his voice strained. “I promised your parents I’d take care of you. I can’t go back on my word.” The wedding ring on his finger caught the afternoon sun, glinting brightly. I stared at it for a moment, then gave a small, tired smile. I was useless to him now. Why was he still putting on this act? I sighed, my voice calm and even. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever we had ended three years ago. You have no responsibility or obligation to me.” A financial debt can be repaid. An emotional one is impossible to calculate. What he gave me, what he took from me… who could ever say? It was better to leave it all buried in the past. You have to look forward. Compared to the twisted wreckage of my past with Martin, I much preferred the quiet, simple life I had now. Martin just stared at me, searching my placid eyes for a spark of the vibrant, fiery Eliza he once knew. He found nothing. I was a stranger to him now. After a long moment, he looked down, his expression defeated. “I saw Sarah’s post,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.” It was the first time Martin Vance had ever apologized to me. He claimed he didn’t know the details of what had happened. He said he was so consumed with the new project that he had delegated all the “minor” issues to Sarah. He never imagined she would twist his words, that she would deliberately delay things. “She said with our families’ influence, no one would ever dare to actually harm you.” “She said you had a temper, that it would cause trouble for you later in life. She thought this would be a good lesson for you, a way to make you learn to behave.” His voice cracked. “I never thought it would go so far. I never knew how much it hurt you…” Did he not know, or did he not want to know? In fifteen days of captivity, he never once called to check on me himself. In three years in that hospital, he never once came to visit. His love was a thin, cheap veneer. Something to pass the time when he was bored. I didn’t need it. I didn’t want it. This time, it was my turn to push his hand away. “Martin, we’ve known each other since we were children. I know you better than anyone. I know your temper, your ambition, your stubborn pride. That’s why I want nothing more to do with you.” My voice was firm, final. “I’ll say it one last time. Leo is not your son. If you don’t believe me, go get a paternity test.” “Now please, stop interfering in our lives.” I slammed the car door shut, sealing out the sound of his voice, sealing out the past. Leo watched me carefully from his seat. Seeing that I was calm, he asked tentatively, “Mommy, who was that man?” “Was he your boyfriend a long time ago?”

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In the year I loved Julian Thorne the most, I gave him the System’s Magic Lamp of Wishes. He was so smitten, he said he wanted to have a child with me. I agreed with my words, but that very night, I faked my death and became his “white moonlight”—the one who got away, gone too soon. Six years later, the System found me, on the verge of a breakdown. “Host, the original target wants me to ask you: your son is in the operating room. Do you want to see him?” I remained calm. “I never had a child with him.” The System sounded even more desperate. “The night you faked your death, he wished for a child with the Magic Lamp. The Lamp didn’t give him one, so he went on a rampage. To maintain world stability, we gave him a child with both your genetic markers.” “Now he’s completely lost it. He told me to tell you that you must meet him today, or he’ll pull the plug on your son’s oxygen.” Hearing this, I immediately transmigrated back to the original world. The System dropped me into a hospital room. A five-year-old child sat on the hospital bed. Seeing me appear out of nowhere, his pale, tender face showed only a hint of surprise. His round, dark eyes stared at me. Then, with one hand in his pocket, he coolly handed me a bank card. “I’ll give you ten million dollars. Stay and be my mom.” 1 The kid was handsome, with an arrogant demeanor exactly like Julian’s. The System chimed in with an explanation. “Host, this is Leo, the child created from yours and the target’s genetic match. He’s six years old.” Seeing the card Leo handed over, I was surprised. “You know me?” Leo stared straight at me, his eyes showing a maturity beyond his years. “I know you’re my mom. I’ve seen you in the photo album in that man’s safe.” I was even more surprised. The child refused to call Julian “Dad.” Was their relationship that bad? The System prompted: “The relationship between the target and the child is very distant. In the week since the child’s surgery and hospitalization, he hasn’t visited once.” I frowned unconsciously. Julian was being way too irresponsible as a father. Leo was his child, after all. Leo looked at me, his small hand clutching tightly. “So, will you stay and be my mom?” I choked, not knowing how to answer. I knew Julian’s temper. Years ago, when I was kidnapped, I had been gone from Julian for less than half an hour when he turned the whole city upside down. He broke the legs of all the kidnappers and left them on the roadside. Yet, looking calm as ever, he squatted down, held my hand, and wiped the places others had touched with a towel, over and over again. His love was as crazy and dark as he was. For me, he even wished for a child from a Magic Lamp. But I faked my death and left him for six whole years. If I agreed to stay, I would definitely run into Julian. I couldn’t imagine what that madman would do when we met again. Seeing my silence, a flash of panic crossed Leo’s eyes. “Is ten million not enough? How about a hundred million?” “I can write you an IOU. When I grow up, I’ll pay you every cent.” With that, Leo pulled out a piece of paper and grandly wrote several zeros, handing it to me to sign. The next second, a maid rushed in, dropped a bowl of medicine, snatched the IOU, tore it to shreds, and threw it in the trash. “Young master, you’re confused! This is the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-ninth bad woman who got plastic surgery to look like the Madam to trick you. I’ll tear off her disguise right now!” Saying this, the maid rushed over to pull my hair. Ignoring his pain, Leo quickly climbed out of bed and blocked her, frowning and shouting. “Who told you to touch her? Do you think I can’t even recognize my own mother?” The maid’s lips trembled. “But Young Master, the Madam died six years ago. How could she be the Madam?” “Shut up! My mom isn’t dead. That man said it himself, Mom is a ‘Tasker.’ She had to be his ‘white moonlight,’ so she faked her death to trick us.” I was startled. Julian knew I was a Tasker. He was too smart; I couldn’t hide it when I approached him, so I just told him. But I never revealed the plot. How did he know I had to be his “early-departed white moonlight”? Did he always know, or did he find out after I faked my death? “She is my mom! I finally met my mom. Get out! Don’t touch her.” Leo glared fiercely at the maid, protecting me like a beast guarding its cub. The maid was driven out of the room. Before leaving, I saw her making a call. Leo bit his lip and secretly wiped his tears, leaving a red rim around his eyes, which made my heart ache. “You pulled on your surgical wound, didn’t you? Does it hurt?” Leo huffed, arrogant just like Julian. “It’s just an appendectomy.” I paused. Appendectomy? Then why did Julian make it sound so serious, threatening to pull the plug? I thought the kid was dying! The System spoke timidly, “Maybe he threatened you like that just to trick you into coming back?” It did sound like something Julian would do. I rubbed my throbbing temples. Looking at the child’s pale face, my heart softened. Seeing the medicine on the table, I took a few steps, and Leo immediately grabbed the hem of my clothes tightly. “Mom… I-I’ll write you another IOU. You can have as much money as you want. I’ll definitely pay you. Please don’t leave me, okay?” Seeing his pitiful look, so afraid I would abandon him, my heart turned to mush. I had just found out about his existence and met him for the first time, yet I genuinely felt the guilt of abandoning my husband and child. I picked him up and placed him on the hospital bed. “I’m not leaving, and I don’t want an IOU. I’m going to get your medicine. If you take your medicine, the wound won’t hurt anymore.” He shook his head vigorously. “I don’t hurt. I’m very tough.” I said softly, “If you drink the medicine, I won’t leave.” Leo’s dark eyes suddenly lit up. He took the medicine, pinched his nose, and drank it in one go, coughing as he choked. Then he grabbed my clothes tightly. “I drank it. You can’t leave. You have to stay with me!” “Okay, I’ll stay with you.” “Swear it!” I was helpless. Like father, like son; they both loved making me swear. “I swear, I’ll stay with you. Your wound hasn’t healed yet. You need rest. Sleep now.” I patted his back gently. Leo’s ears turned red. He tried hard to keep his eyes open, examining me carefully, but eventually couldn’t resist the drowsiness and fell asleep. His fingers, however, still gripped my sleeve tightly, refusing to let go. I stared at him, my heart softening inch by inch. Just then, the silent System suddenly issued an urgent alarm. “Host! Something happened to the original target!” I was startled. “What’s wrong?” The next second, a large screen appeared in front of me. On the screen was the villa where Julian and I once lived. The living room was densely packed with wooden puppets. Julian sat in the center of the living room. His chiseled face was as handsome as it was six years ago. His distinct fingers held a carving knife, adjusting the curve of a puppet’s earlobe bit by bit. As the last wood shaving fell to the floor, he murmured softly. “Serena, this is the two thousand and ninetieth you. I’ve waited for you every day for six years. Why won’t you come back? Is it because I wasn’t good enough that you left me?” His eyes were vacant. The eyes that were once full of ambition now held only despair and numbness. I was shaken, involuntarily recalling the first time I met Julian. He had been kicked out by his father. In the dead of winter, wearing only thin pajamas, covered in bruises, he walked barefoot towards the sea. Just like now, there was no light in his eyes. I desperately pulled him ashore and forced clothes onto him. He looked at me warily and asked in a hoarse voice. “Why did you save me?” I casually said, “Because I can see the future. I know you’ll become a very powerful person later. Powerful enough to overturn the world.” I wasn’t exactly lying. He was the big villain in the book. As long as he survived the hardest times, he would be a man more powerful than the protagonist. Julian was suspicious by nature, but he believed me. Then, in just three years, he became the madman everyone talked about, unscrupulous for money and power. And I was his only weakness. I snapped back to reality, seeing Julian raise the carving knife and slice his fingertip without hesitation. Blood dotted the puppet’s lips, completing the final touch. He smiled, his blood-stained fingertip tracing the puppet’s face, his eyes full of obsession and satisfaction. “My Serena is so beautiful. Pity, no matter how much it looks like her, it’s not her.” I shivered. Following his gaze, my blood ran cold. The villa was filled with puppets, all looking exactly like me. Lifelike. It showed how dedicated and obsessed the carver was. Six years later, he seemed even crazier. 2 The System said: “Host, since you left, the target has shut himself up with your puppets all day, unwilling to part for a moment. Even when he was seriously ill and vomiting blood, he rushed back here overnight.” I pursed my lips, guilt welling up. A knock sounded at the door. The rushing butler spoke cautiously. “Mr. Thorne, Nanny Wang couldn’t reach you and asked me to tell you that another woman who looks like the Madam has appeared around the young master.” “This time she’s tricked the young master completely. He insists on recognizing her as his mother. The young master just had surgery and probably misses the Madam, so I’m a bit worried he’ll be deceived by that woman. Should you… go see the young master?” Being suddenly interrupted, Julian’s voice was displeased. “Let him recognize whoever he wants as his mom. Get out. Don’t disturb me and my wife celebrating our anniversary.” The butler sighed and left silently. My brows knitted tightly. Even more confused. Why was Julian’s attitude towards his son so terrible? What exactly happened between father and son? “Sorry, I was a bit loud just now. Did I scare you?” Julian apologized in a low voice, his fingertips repeatedly stroking the puppet’s hair, endless pain and loneliness flashing in his eyes. “Serena, I miss you so much. When will you come back to see me?” I unconsciously held my breath, afraid he would discover me. I asked the System. “He looks a bit crazy, but he’s alive and kicking. What did you mean by ‘something happened’ just now?” Before the System could answer, a crimson red reflected on the screen. Julian unhesitatingly slit his wrist, watching coldly as blood soaked the puppet’s dress. My pupils shrank violently. “What is he doing! Does he have a death wish?” The System spoke. “This is a ritual. It’s said that on a couple’s wedding anniversary, if one drips their blood on a puppet, the other half’s soul will possess the puppet.” “He might be trying to summon you back this way.” I gritted my teeth. “What a lunatic.” There wasn’t a single servant inside or outside the villa now; the butler had just been driven away by Julian. His cut was deep. If this continued, he might really die here today. Panic grew in my heart, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “System, didn’t you want me back to stabilize the world? If a powerful villain like Julian dies, what’s the point of the protagonist in the book? A strong villain makes a strong protagonist. Think of a way to save him!” “Don’t worry, Host. There is a way.” The next second, the photo hanging on the wall smashed onto the table with a snap. The first aid kit bounced up and landed heavily at Julian’s feet. That was the first aid kit I prepared for Julian a long time ago. At that time, Julian was always accidentally hurting himself, so I prepared a kit with all the medicines he commonly used. Julian froze as expected, his gaze falling on the puppet in front of him, eyes crazy and obsessed. “Serena, are you back?” Long silence. No answer. He pulled the corner of his mouth, laughing self-deprecatingly. “I really am crazy, actually thinking you would possess a puppet.” The System announced good news. “Host, the time for the soul-summoning ritual has passed. If the target wants to cut his wrist and drip blood, he’ll have to wait until next year.” I looked at Julian. Sure enough, he threw away the knife in his hand, squatted down to pick up the bandage spilled from the kit, and wrapped it around his wrist loop by loop. I breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing Julian’s pale face, my heart ached a little more. “Does Julian bleed himself once every year after I left?” “Pretty much. But the cuts weren’t this deep before. Maybe just for a moment just now, he really wanted to die for love.” I fell silent, the guilt growing stronger. The System retracted the screen. My gaze returned to the hospital room. Leo beside me was curled up in a ball, clutching my hand tightly for fear I would leave. My heart softened unconsciously again. This was actually my child with Julian. He looked like him, and also very much like me. I couldn’t help but smile. When the sun set, Leo woke up suddenly. Seeing his pale face, I gently wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and asked softly. “Did you have a nightmare?” Seeing me, Leo’s eyes instantly turned red, and he buried his head in my arms. “Mom, it really is you. You really came back, and you really didn’t leave.” “You don’t know, I just dreamed that the madman killed all the people who looked like you.” Leo trembled slightly in my arms, gritting his teeth. “That man is not only crazy but also blind. He might not recognize you like I did. He might treat you like the others and kill you.” Mentioning Julian, Leo’s face was full of disgust and resistance. I genuinely didn’t understand. Leo was raised by Julian. How could the father-son relationship be this bad? Just as I was about to ask, Leo jumped out of bed and looked at me seriously. “Mom, he’s sick in the head. I know you left because you hated him too. But I’m normal. Why don’t you take me with you? I can make money and do housework!” With that, Leo took out several bank cards from his schoolbag and stuffed them all into my hand. “There’s a total of ten million in the cards. Although it’s not much, I’ll work hard to earn more later and support you for the rest of my life.” Holding the bank cards, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Leo, why do you hate your dad so much and curse him like that?” Leo didn’t answer. His warm little hand held mine, his voice softening a bit. “Mom, can I answer this question after we leave?” Seeing the slightly pleading look in Leo’s eyes, my heart melted completely. “Okay, I promise you. Let’s go.” A flash of joy appeared in Leo’s eyes. He held my hand and walked out, comforting me at the same time. “Mom, don’t worry. I’ll take you to escape and protect you… forever.” Before he could finish, Leo suddenly bumped into a tall, solid wall of a person. My expression changed abruptly, and my steps halted. The man stared straight at me, lips slightly curved, charming yet weirdly dangerous. “Serena, you’d rather run with him than stay for me? Want to abandon me a second time, hmm?” 3 Julian had lost a lot of weight, appearing even more noble and cold. His gaze swept indifferently over Leo, finally landing on my face. “Serena, can we talk?” Leo shivered under his gaze, but still gritted his teeth and stood in front of me, looking at his father warily. “Don’t think I don’t know what you want to do. I warn you, don’t even think about hurting her.” I avoided Julian’s gaze guiltily. Speaking of which, whether in the past or now, Julian had a clear conscience towards me. It was I who let him down time and again. Feeling even more guilty for no reason… The atmosphere was deadlocked. The System suddenly appeared, egging me on. “Host, news just came from headquarters. As long as the target’s emotions stabilize, your mission is complete. This conversation is a very good opportunity.” I nodded in agreement, finally looking at Julian and agreeing. “Okay, let’s talk.” Leo grabbed the hem of my clothes, his face full of worry. “Mom, don’t go.” I patted his head and comforted him, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Only then did Leo gently let go of my clothes. Watching Julian lead me away, he chased after us unwillingly. Just a few steps later, a nurse grabbed him. “Little one, where are you going? It’s time for your injection.” Leo said anxiously, “My mom, she…” “Okay, okay, after the injection, sister will take you to find your mom. Be good now, okay?” With that, without giving Leo a chance to speak, the nurse picked him up and walked towards the ward. I gave Leo a reassuring look. Julian suddenly spoke. “You care about that kid a lot?” His tone was sour with jealousy. I found it strange. “Leo is our child. How could I not care?” “Heh.” Julian laughed self-deprecatingly. “So you’d rather listen to him and leave with him than come see me, right?” “Serena, do you know I waited for you for six whole years? How can your heart be so cruel?” Hearing Julian’s trembling, hoarse voice, my heart felt blocked by a huge stone. “I’m sorry.” Julian tightened his grip on my hand, harder and harder. “Serena, that’s not what I want to hear.” He suddenly quickened his pace, dragging me into an empty ward and pinning me against the wall. I felt a sense of doom and instinctively wanted to run. Julian grabbed me, pinning my hands tightly against the wall, his movements carrying irresistible force. He leaned close to my ear, his self-deprecating voice carrying an anger that couldn’t be quelled. “You want to leave me that much, huh?” He kicked the door shut. The next second, Julian’s lips pressed against mine without explanation, his breath hot enough to ignite the air. His intensity grew. I was kissed to the point of suffocation and turned my head away sharply, begging. “Julian, let go of me. It really hurts.” Hearing my voice, his reason gradually returned, and he slowly let go of me. I dropped my hands. Julian saw the two red marks on my wrists where he had gripped them, and fully regained his senses. Guilt flashed in his eyes. “Sorry. I’ll find you some medicine.” I pulled him back. “It’ll fade in a bit. Julian, what did you want to talk about?” Julian didn’t answer but still found me the medicine. I was helped into a chair by Julian. He squatted in front of me, silently applying the ointment for me. I pursed my lips. Julian’s suit sleeve rolled up slightly, revealing that shocking scar on his wrist. The bandage that should have been there was removed by him at some point. I grabbed his wrist. Julian’s eyes flickered, and he immediately pulled down his sleeve, saying indifferently. “It’s nothing. Accidentally cut it.” How was this an accidental cut? It was clearly done by Julian himself when he was bloodletting for that ritual. Hearing Julian’s indifferent tone, I was instantly furious. “Julian, do you cherish yourself so little?” Not expecting me to be so angry, Julian paused, then chuckled. “Serena, are you caring about me?” “What else? Julian, if I’m not by your side, can’t you learn to cherish yourself?” I scolded him angrily. The moment our eyes met, I froze. Julian’s eyes were red, the corners of his mouth raised in a smile. “You left so heartlessly back then. I thought you wouldn’t feel sorry for me anymore.” His words choked me up. I said dryly, “I didn’t say I didn’t feel sorry for you.” I got up, found a bandage in the ward, and re-wrapped it for him. Afraid he would take it off again, I tied two knots specifically. “You are not allowed to take it off, do you hear me?” 4 Julian lowered his head and gave a hum of agreement. “I know. I have something to give you.” I saw him take a bracelet out of his pocket and put it on my wrist. “This should be very important to you. It was accidentally thrown into the sea the day you left. After I picked it up, I kept it with me. It waited for you with me for six years.” I raised my hand, slightly stunned. This was my mother’s relic from the real world. Six years ago, the day I faked my death. The System wanted me to throw the suitcase into the sea to simulate suicide. I left in a hurry that day, so I accidentally put the bracelet in the suitcase too. After returning to the real world, I felt bad for a long time. I didn’t expect that now, this bracelet had returned to my hands. I never mentioned to Julian that this bracelet was important to me, yet he keenly sensed it. My feelings were mixed. Seeing my surprise, Julian lowered his eyes and smiled. “You abandoned me and left. It’s been six years, and I can’t hate you at all.” “Even if I know that all your kindness to me was just for the mission, I would still fall for it.” Julian closed his eyes, two lines of clear tears falling, his tone self-deprecating. “Serena, am I stupid?” Less than two years after graduating from college, relying on his own ability and means, he leaped from being the neglected child of the Thorne family to the President Thorne everyone feared. He had money and power; everyone envied his success. But now, he insisted on begging for that worthless love from me. Julian, you really are stupid. A dense pain rose uncontrollably in my heart. I unconsciously raised my hand and wiped away his tears. “These six years, you’ve suffered.” Julian turned his head away. “I didn’t want to hear your apology, Serena.” He paused, finally looking at me, eyes flickering. “Can you stay here and accompany me?” I fell silent. Back then, the System promised that after completing the mission, it would send me back to the real world and give me endless wealth. So at the beginning, every kindness I showed Julian was indeed just with the mindset of completing the mission. Even if I truly fell in love later, I didn’t stay. After all, people’s hearts change easily. Who knows if many years later, Julian would still love me as before? I trusted the money in my own hands more. Before I could speak, a shout came from outside the ward door. “Mom, I don’t allow you to stay with him!” The door was slammed open. Leo stumbled in, stood in front of me, pointed at his dad and cursed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning! Besides, this is my mom. Why should she stay with you? She should take me and leave together!” Julian frowned and sneered. “She is my wife. Why should she take you?” Leo also sneered. “But she didn’t want you six years ago.” These words stabbed Julian fiercely. A cold storm surged in his dark pupils. “Say that again?” Seeing the situation was bad, I covered Leo’s mouth and scolded. “Enough, both of you shut up.”

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After the esports tournament, a new female member joined my husband’s team. At the celebration party, this “pick-me girl” dragged him to drink and wouldn’t let him go home. “What are women worth? Tonight, us brothers drink until we drop! Agreed? No one goes home.” “Listening to a woman is so weak. Listen to Daddy here, women can’t be spoiled…” Hearing this, I pushed open the door of the private room, looking aggrieved. “Honey, why aren’t you home yet? I was worried about you…” I transformed into a master manipulator to play against this pick-me girl, ruining her reputation completely. Trying to outplay me at my own game? Her skills are a little too shallow. 1 It was nearly midnight, and Jason still hadn’t returned from the celebration party. Seeing the message on my phone, I drove to the hotel with a cold face. Laughter and drinking sounds filled the private room. I pushed the door open. The lively atmosphere inside quieted for a moment, and several esports players turned to look at me blankly. The woman in the main seat raised her glass as if she hadn’t noticed the commotion behind her. “Drink! Why aren’t you drinking? Tonight we don’t go home until we’re drunk. Let’s see who dares not give Daddy face!” At a gathering after the celebration party, she was still wearing a strapless gown. Her skin was fair, her chest full, standing out conspicuously among a group of burly men. This must be the new member, Zoey, the only female player exceptionally recruited by the team “Headwind” in all its years. After drinking, she put down her glass with a grin and fell towards Jason as if exhausted. I noticed Jason abruptly turned away. So, Zoey fell into the arms of the captain, Feng. Holding the beauty, Feng smiled contentedly. Seeing me approach, Zoey’s expression changed for a second, jealousy flashing in her eyes. I raised an eyebrow, knowing my intuition was right. This person was indeed a “pick-me girl”—acting like one of the guys to get close to them. No wonder Jason texted me for help, saying Zoey kept pouring him drinks and throwing herself at him. Did no one tell her that I’m the one with perfect scores in manipulation? So, in front of everyone, I pouted and threw myself into Jason’s arms delicately. “It’s so late, I was really worried about you…” Jason played basketball in high school and was 6’3″. Later recruited by the esports team, he didn’t forget to work out. He was known as the “cool guy with a cold face” and attracted many fangirls. I was a big pervert. Back then, I fell for Jason’s pecs and decided to pursue him. We got married successfully a year later. Now suddenly hugged by me, Jason’s tall body stiffened, then he unnaturally hugged me back, even his ears turning a light pink. I squeezed out two tears, and Jason comforted me helplessly. “I’m fine, don’t be scared… I’ll go back with you right away.” The cold and silent man turned into putty in my hands, causing the crowd to tease. “No wonder they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Look how much sister-in-law missed you.” “Heard long ago that sister-in-law is a beauty. Seeing her today, she really is. Jason is lucky.” “You two have such a good relationship. Wishing you a long life together. Cheers to you.” They laughed and joked, congratulating us on our harmonious life. Only Zoey, leaning on Feng, looked at me with a gloomy face. Jason was a bit embarrassed but didn’t let go of my hand. Feeling my cold palm, Jason looked at me worriedly, said goodbye, and was about to leave with me. Zoey, however, lunged forward crazily, trying to rub her full chest against Jason’s arm. “Us brothers play together every day. During training camp, we even eat and live together. Now your wife comes and you want to leave? Are you not taking Daddy seriously?” She was drunk and acting out of line. Everyone thought she was just being a drunkard, so no one stopped her immediately. Jason knew better. He turned to avoid her, not forgetting to glance at me worriedly. Zoey held her wine glass with a mocking face: “Oh, the son has grown up and won’t listen to his dad. Your brother treats you with all his heart, and you won’t even have a drink.” Turning her head, she looked at me with a grin, insinuating: “It’s rare to be happy today. Sister-in-law, be generous. We haven’t had enough to drink. Us brothers are born to love freedom; you can’t control us too tightly, or it will backfire.” Implied meaning: I’m petty and bossy. The esports players watched grinningly, treating it as a show. Feng actually nodded. Seeing this, Zoey gained confidence. Swaying, she raised her glass, thrusting her chest towards Jason. “My good son, come drink! We are all brothers, don’t be petty like women.” Seeing those breasts about to hit him, I pulled Jason aside to dodge. Letting Zoey fall flat on her face unable to stop her momentum. I looked at Jason coquettishly: “Why didn’t you know to dodge? You’re so big and clumsy; what if you hurt Zoey? She is a girl after all.” 2 Blushing from my teasing, Jason frowned and blurted out: “None of my business. She threw herself at me on purpose.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zoey’s gaze shooting daggers. I smiled innocently: “What are you saying? If Zoey threw herself at you on purpose, what would that make her?” “I don’t care what she becomes. Anyway, I’m married, and I only have you in my heart. It’s useless for anyone to throw themselves at me,” Jason blurted out. Hearing Jason’s blunt words, Zoey’s face turned completely dark. The esports players looked at Jason and Zoey thoughtfully. As if just noticing Zoey still on the floor, I reminded them: “Quick, fix Zoey’s clothes and help her up. What if someone takes a picture and puts it online? Cyberbullying is scary.” After speaking, I hid behind Jason as if scared. Only then did everyone realize how inappropriate Zoey’s attire was, exposing half her chest while leaning on a married man. If it were really photographed… Everyone gasped. Their team had just entered the top eight in the Asian region, and their opponents were the always troublesome Korean team. Now was the time when everyone was watching. If photos of Headwind members in messy relationships or disheveled clothes leaked online, they would inevitably be trending and scolded again. Realizing the seriousness of the matter, the members criticized Zoey for the first time. Even Feng scolded her with a dark face. “I know you are usually careless, but our team is just starting out. Public image is still needed. Get up quickly.” “And your clothes. Calling yourself brother all day, you’re not a real man after all. How can you expose so much?” “Good thing sister-in-law is meticulous, otherwise we’d get scolded again. Those Koreans are looking for our faults recently.” After saying a few things, they smiled awkwardly, feeling more and more that Zoey’s behavior just now was inappropriate. They came over to apologize to me one after another, asking me not to argue with a drunkard. Hearing this, Zoey first glared at me darkly, then rolled her eyes and actually took the initiative to toast me. “Sister-in-law, don’t be angry. I’ve been mixing with men for too long and my personality is too casual. I apologize if I offended you; please don’t hold it against me. “Jason and I are just pure good brothers. We are used to playing together every day and lost our sense of propriety for a moment. This time it’s my fault. To apologize, if Jason bullies you in the future, just tell me, and I will definitely settle the score with him for you!” After speaking, she drank it all in one gulp. Seeing her being so sensible, the surrounding esports players looked at her with admiration. I sneered in my heart. Calling it an apology, she was actually implying I was petty and sensitive, and deliberately showing she was closer to Jason. If I didn’t know Jason wasn’t close to her at all, I might have been fooled. Seeing me looking down without reaction, people around tried to smooth things over, speaking for Zoey. “Sister-in-law, don’t mind her. Zoey is used to joking around with us every day; she actually has no bad intentions.” “Exactly, she treats us as good brothers. She drank too much today.” I looked up with tears in my eyes, exposing my reddened eyes to everyone, showing weakness appropriately: “Sister says this to imply I am petty and bossy, but I didn’t do anything. “Do you guys dislike me? Then I’ll leave. “Here’s the stomach medicine. You asked me to bring it, I didn’t expect so many things to happen.” Saying this, I threw the stomach medicine to Jason and ran out. Under the light, tears streaked across my fair cheeks, paired with red eyes, looking particularly pitiable. Jason panicked and chased me out. Before leaving, he didn’t forget to drop a harsh word: “Next time anyone speaks ill of my wife, don’t blame me for falling out!” This was the first time Jason got angry. The room fell silent unconsciously. Then finally someone couldn’t help looking at Zoey with blame. “Why did you talk about them?” “Exactly, the couple was fine, and you meddled.” “You wore clothes like that to rub against Jason. Sister-in-law didn’t get angry with you, but you pissed her off instead. Zoey, you went a bit too far this time.” They criticized her one by one. Because of her high skills and gender advantage, Zoey had always been pampered by the members, but tonight she hit a wall repeatedly. At the corner of the corridor, I turned back and saw Zoey’s face had turned completely black, then I smiled satisfactorily. This is just the beginning. Next time this pick-me girl causes trouble, I’ll play her until she doesn’t know north from south. 3 When we got home, before I could say anything, Jason lay on me aggrievedly. Rubbing his head against my shoulder, like a large dog bullied by outsiders coming home to find his owner for justice. “I really have no interest in Zoey at all. Wifey, you are the number one in my heart. Otherwise, how could I text you to save me?” I knew what he meant. Tonight in the private room, I was deliberately acting for them too. But thinking of Zoey exposing her chest and clinging to Jason, I still felt angry. “Who knows what you guys do during training? You go for two months, eating and living with Zoey every day…” As I spoke, I really felt aggrieved, my eyes turning slightly red. Being together for so long, who knows if feelings developed between Jason and Zoey over time? Seeing I took it seriously, Jason explained anxiously: “That’s all Zoey’s nonsense. She lives in Feng’s suite. Us guys live in the dorms; we don’t live together at all. Wifey, I swear my male virtue hasn’t diminished a bit. I avoid Zoey when I’m outside.” Jason knelt on the bed, raising three fingers to swear. Because of this posture, his body leaned forward, his pecs almost bursting out. I looked up at him, my face turning slightly red at this scene: “Really?” Jason looked down at me. After our gazes intertwined, his look gradually became ambiguous. Breathing became heavy in the small space. He pulled my hand towards himself, his deep male voice sounding: “Wifey, my male virtue hasn’t diminished at all; I kept it all for you. If you don’t believe me, feel it. I know you like this. “We were separated for so long… didn’t you miss me?” Jason spoke aggrievedly. Strangely bewitched, I actually started to cooperate with Jason’s movements. A chaotic night… When I woke up the next day, I was unusually embarrassed. Tossing and turning so many times a night, Jason was an obedient dog off the bed, but a wild wolf on it. Especially since this wolf had been hungry for two months. In the end, I was too tired, crying that I absolutely believed him before Jason let me go. “Ding,” Jason’s WeChat received a message. “Wifey, check it for me.” Jason turned over sleepily in bed, not planning to get up. I went over to look. It was actually Zoey. She sent a picture of her sweaty face from morning exercise. The point was, she was wearing a white T-shirt. Wet with sweat, the clothes stuck to her body, revealing her good curves. Especially the two mounds on her chest, their presence was amazing. The caption was: [Up yet? Daddy is already doing morning exercises. Did sister-in-law wear you out last night? I told you, women are trouble. It’s happier being with Daddy. Time to come out and play? Waiting at the arcade.] This pick-me girl, never ending, is she? So angry I scratched Jason awake directly, letting him see what this “good Daddy” sent again. Jason scratched his head in annoyance, didn’t dare get angry at me, so he aimed the cannon at Zoey. He directly screenshotted and forwarded it to the team’s group chat, not leaving out that photo, then specifically tagged Zoey and Feng. [First, my wife is gentle and didn’t wear me out at all. Second, thinking of team harmony, I didn’t want to argue with you, but what do you mean by doing this again and again? Third, Captain, are you going to manage this? How many times has this been?] No messages in the group for a while. After a long time, Zoey came out to save face: “Hahaha, I acted inappropriately. Running in the morning, I suddenly thought of last night and said it casually. Don’t mind my bad way of speaking.” Jason: “I mind very much. Zoey, do you know this behavior is called being a homewrecker outside? If not for considering Headwind, I would definitely beat you up.” As soon as the words came out, Zoey played dead directly in the group chat. A while later, Feng came out to state his position: “Zoey is young, just turned twenty this year, and has been hanging out with men all the time. It’s understandable if her behavior is a bit out of line. I will definitely educate her well, won’t happen again!” Said to be blame, but the words were full of defense. Looking at Zoey’s avatar in the group chat, I was really curious what magic this pick-me girl had that Feng defended her like this. 4 The next day, I accompanied Jason to the preliminary group match. This match was against South Korea and would be live-streamed throughout. Many people went to the scene to cheer. When I got there, the audience seats were already full. The Koreans opposite were screaming to cheer for themselves, and our side was not outdone; the cheers from the audience resounded through the sky. Influenced by such an atmosphere, I even felt a surge of excitement and wanted to go up and play a round. Jason had joined the esports team for six years, and his skills were already outstanding. Now with the addition of Zoey, it was even more powerful, almost suppressing the opponent. This pick-me girl indeed had some skills, always hiding in the blind spots of vision, intercepting the enemy unexpectedly. Within thirty minutes of the start, Zoey harvested two lives. It seemed that yesterday’s unhappiness did not affect the strength of these two. “Zoey is awesome! Kill them.” “Can Zoey predict directly? Worthy of being the national server sharpshooter.” Zoey’s marksmanship and prediction were indeed awesome. I looked at Zoey’s smug face on the big screen, but always felt something was wrong, as if it went too smoothly. Anyway, Jason and Zoey performed stably in this game. Headwind won without suspense. The scene exploded with excitement: “Jason is awesome, never made a mistake in so many years of competition!” “Zoey is my only god, marksmanship is simply divine!” “Headwind cannot do without you two!” “Jason is the most handsome one in Headwind, right? So handsome I’m going crazy, skills so stable.” Applause thundered, the venue full of cheers for Jason and Zoey. Few mentioned the names of other members. Zoey was smiling and high-fiving the audience in the first row, setting off another frenzy. Her heroic appearance during the game attracted many fangirls; no wonder she became so popular in such a short time. Jason saw me, ignored the fans, and walked straight towards me. Some people on the scene knew our relationship, and teasing “Oh” sounds rang out. I noticed Feng walking at the end of the team. Hearing the fans’ congratulations, his face looked somewhat gloomy. Jason walked to my side with his long legs in a few steps: “Why did you come?” I smiled and replied: “Rare for you guys to play at home, I also wanted to see the handsomest Brother Jason of Headwind.” “People are watching, don’t tease. Wait for me a bit, we’ll finish after confirming the score.” Jason waved his hand embarrassedly, his face slightly red. This guy, his skin gets thin as soon as he’s outside, pure悶騷 (outwardly cold, inwardly passionate). Jason went to the waiting area first, Zoey following behind. She came over smiling. To outsiders, our relationship should look good. “Sister-in-law came? This is a man’s game, do you understand it? “Isn’t my coordination with Jason tacit? On the game field, we are a match made in heaven.” I blinked, looking at her innocently: “How can a man and a man be a match made in heaven? My husband isn’t gay.”

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1 Five years after she cut me out of her life, my sister, a homicide detective, finally got her transfer back to Oakhaven. She came back for one reason: to reopen the case of her childhood sweetheart’s father, murdered all those years ago. And me? I was just a nobody, sorting parts on an assembly line for twenty bucks an hour. When she and her team stormed the factory floor, I kept my head down, my hands moving mechanically, pretending not to see her. I didn’t look up until the cold steel of the cuffs clicked around my wrists. Her eyes were bloodshot with a hatred so pure it burned. “Julian’s father has been dead for five years,” she seethed, her voice shaking. “What gives you the right to live so peacefully?” She yanked me to my feet. “And Mom! She’s been in on this with you, hasn’t she? Hiding from me for five years!” A bitter sting filled my nose, and for a second, the world swam out of focus. She didn’t know. Our mother was buried in the spring of that same year, five years ago. And I had just been clinging to life, a ghost waiting for my own sister to clear my name. But looking at her now, I saw the truth. The sister I had waited five long years for was just another stranger. … Cici’s hands trembled as she cuffed me, the metal biting painfully into my skin. “Andrew,” she said, her voice low and venomous. “I don’t care how you dodged justice back then. This time, I’ll be the one to put you away.” The other workers held their breath, a silent audience to our broken family drama. I just managed a quiet “Okay,” and let her march me to her car. The moment we arrived at the station, Julian lunged at me, his face a mask of grief and rage. “What did my father ever do to you?” he screamed, his fists hammering against my chest. “How could you kill him? I want you to pay with your blood!” He beat me, spat on me, his fury a familiar storm I had weathered countless times before. Just like five years ago. I was used to it. While Cici watched with cold disgust, I met his eyes calmly. “You know exactly what happened that night.” A split second later, a sharp crack exploded against my cheek. My sister’s hand. Her other fist was clenched tight, her brow furrowed in a knot of fury. “Five years and you still haven’t learned? You were holding the knife, Andrew. Julian’s father was bleeding out on the floor. If it wasn’t you, who was it?” She shoved her phone into my chest. “You won’t admit it? Fine. Call Mom right now. I want to hear what kind of monster she’s raised these past five years!” The phone’s hard edge struck my face, and a sharp, clear pain finally lanced through my heart. If it hadn’t been for Julian’s monster of a father, my mother never would have been so violated, so broken that she took her own life. And I wouldn’t have been a helpless kid grabbing the first weapon I could find, a kitchen knife, to make him stop. An act that turned me into a pariah, forced to scrape by on a few thousand a month, waiting for the one person I thought I could trust, my detective sister, to bring justice for my mother and me. I looked at her cold, unforgiving face and knew my hope was dead. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me. “Mom… she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Cici’s jaw clenched, her eyes threaded with red. Five years had done nothing to soften her hatred for me. It had only let it fester. She dragged me away roughly, ordering an officer to put me in a holding cell. “Still as stubborn as ever, trying to piss me off. Is that it? Then you can sit in here and think it over until you’re ready to talk to me like a human being!” A familiar voice spoke up beside her. “Captain, we don’t have any evidence. We can’t legally hold him like this…” “Shut up! I’ll take the heat for it. He made his bed, now he can lie in it.” Cici glared at me one last time before slamming the cell door. The heavy click of the lock echoed in my chest, throwing me back five years, to the sound of her voice screaming as she shoved my head into a toilet bowl. “What did Julian ever do to you? Why would you do something so twisted, so evil? How the hell did I end up with a brother like you!” I had closed my eyes then, thinking it would be easier to just let the water fill my lungs. But I couldn’t. What would happen to Mom? She’d escaped with a permanently injured leg. She only had me. So I fought back, thrashing free from my sister’s grip, choking out the words. “That animal deserved to die! It was self-defense!” For five years, I’d held onto the fantasy that my sister, the police officer, would eventually see the truth and stand with us. It was that hope that kept me alive, like a stray dog, even as a deep depression took root in my soul. But now, that was over. At least I wasn’t waiting for a miracle anymore, just for my next twenty-dollar-an-hour paycheck to keep myself breathing. I finally found the courage to make the call. I dialed my psychiatrist. “I need you to help me arrange for the procedure. Euthanasia. As soon as possible.” “…But the case wasn’t your fault, Andrew,” he said gently. “Are you still so determined not to forgive yourself?” My hand tightened on the phone, my heart feeling like it was being crushed into pulp. Back then, my own sister, who should have been recused as a family member, stood up in court and testified against me. “My brother made a mistake, and as his sister, I have to take responsibility. Letting him off easy will only destroy him!” She appealed the court’s decision again and again, painting me as a vicious killer in the public eye. That’s when the depression hit. The night Mom hanged herself, I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. In a last, foggy moment of panic, I called my sister, begging for help. Her voice had been like ice. “If you’re going to die, then just die. Don’t call me looking for pity.” I buried our mother alone. I cried until I had no tears left. Every year after that, on the anniversary of her death, I couldn’t stop myself from calling the sister who had disowned me. But she was always busy. Taking Julian to a doctor’s appointment, buying him fireworks, renting a yacht to cheer him up. “Julian lost his father because of you,” she’d once snapped. “I’m atoning for your sins. Don’t be so ungrateful!” After that, she officially cut all ties, legally dissolving our relationship as siblings. But a part of me, the little boy I used to be, still dreamed that one day she would believe me. That she would put her hand on my head and tell me I had been brave. So I took the factory job. The pay was garbage, but they didn’t care about my depression. After three days in the holding cell, the call I was dreading came. My boss sounded apologetic. “Look, kid, my hands are tied. If you’re really in some kind of legal trouble, it could sink my whole business.” My mind went blank. The money for Mom’s burial plot, the money for the euthanasia procedure… it all depended on that job. My composure finally shattered. I started rattling the bars of the cell, screaming. “Cici! Please, let me out! I have to get to work! I can’t lose this job!” When she finally appeared, her face a mask of annoyance, the panic attack was already closing in, squeezing the air from my lungs. “Wow, your acting has really improved over the years,” she said with a sneer. “You can even fake a panic attack now? The only one who’s really depressed is Julian!” She leaned closer. “And don’t call me your sister. The word makes me sick.” Each word was a punch to the gut, stealing my breath. I forced myself to change my address. “De… Detective,” I gasped. “You can’t just… lock me up like this. I’m innocent.” Cici’s expression darkened, her brow knitting together. “You’re unbelievable, Andrew.” Just then, her phone rang. Julian’s soft, pleading voice drifted from the speaker. “Cici, you promised you’d take me to that new gallery opening. When are you coming to get me?” Her face and tone softened instantly. “I’m on my way.” As she turned to leave, another call came in, this time on my cheap burner phone. It was the administrator from the cemetery. “Mr. Hayes? If this month’s maintenance fee isn’t paid soon, we’ll have no choice but to remove the ashes from the niche.” The world dropped out from under me. My legs gave way, and I collapsed. Cici, already halfway out the door, stopped and spun around, her eyes wide with confusion. “Ashes? Whose ashes?” When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. A second later, Cici’s anxious face swam into my vision. “The cemetery said the deceased’s last name was Lynn. Who is it? Just tell me, Andrew. I’ll believe you.” For a heart-stopping moment, I wanted to scream it at her. Our mother. Our mother took her own life five years ago because she couldn’t live with the shame. She’s gone. I remembered holding her cold hand as she was dying, her last words a whisper for her daughter. “Cici… make that bastard pay.” I had choked back my own tears to promise her. “Cici will get him, Mom. She’s the best detective in the world. She’ll get justice for you.” But the words died on my lips, replaced by a bitter smile. “I don’t know. A distant relative, maybe.” Almost every time I went to visit Mom’s grave, I’d see Cici there with Julian, laying flowers on his father’s tomb. She would hold him as he wept, offering him the comfort and warmth she had always denied me. I would watch from a distance, hidden behind other gravestones, a toxic mix of envy and hatred churning in my gut. Seeing the stubborn set of my jaw, Cici’s face hardened. “Only Mom could ever handle you when you get like this,” she snapped. “Maybe a couple of years in prison will finally teach you some humility!” With that, she took another call and stormed out of the room. I glanced at the calendar on the wall. Today was the anniversary of Mom’s death. Which meant it was also the anniversary of the death of Julian’s father. Of course. She was rushing off to be with him. Dragging my weak body out of bed, I did what I had done for the past five years. I bought a bouquet of sunflowers, Mom’s favorite, and went to the cemetery alone. I’d barely made it through the gates when Julian charged at me like a wild animal. “You have the nerve to show your face here? Today of all days? Are you doing this on purpose?” His nails raked across my face, leaving burning trails of pain. I clenched my fists, fighting to stay calm. “Get off me,” I said through gritted teeth. Julian’s face twisted. “Cici!” he wailed. She was there in an instant. Without asking a single question, she shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the ground. “Are you insane, Andrew? Julian is grieving! Why would you come here just to provoke him?” The sunflowers scattered across the grass. I scrambled to gather them, a desperate grief clawing at me. A moment later, an expensive leather shoe pressed down hard on the back of my hand. I hissed in pain, snatching my hand back as involuntary tears streamed down my face. “It’s a day of mourning, Andrew, and you bring these bright, cheerful flowers?” Cici’s voice was dangerously low as she stared down at me, not a flicker of remorse in her eyes. “Are you trying to mock us?” She had really forgotten. Every year on her birthday, Mom would buy herself a bouquet of sunflowers. “I want you and your sister to grow up strong and bright like these,” she used to say. “And I’ll always be your sun.” Now, the only person in Cici’s heart was the son of the man who had destroyed our sun forever. I ignored the pain and reached for the crushed petals with my bloodied hand. For a second, Cici froze, her breath catching. But then Julian pulled a knife from his bag and pressed it to his own throat. “It’s all my fault! I couldn’t protect my dad! You two can have your happy reunion. I’m going to be with him!” “No!” Cici cried, her face pale with panic. She didn’t dare move. Then, her eyes, cold and hard, fixed on me. She spoke through clenched teeth. “What are you waiting for? Get on your knees and apologize to Julian’s father. Now!” A roaring filled my ears. “You don’t deserve to be my sister!” I screamed, my voice raw and cracking. She didn’t even flinch. She just kicked the back of my knee, hard. The joint buckled with a fiery agony, and I collapsed onto the ground in front of Mr. Vance’s tombstone. “Apologize!” Before I could answer, a group of people visiting a nearby grave recognized me. Phones came out, cameras pointing. “That’s him! The murderer from that case years ago! What is he even doing here?” “He’s probably up to no good. Someone should call the cops and have him locked up for good!” The crowd buzzed, their whispers loud and sharp. How could a decorated detective captain have a killer for a brother? The shame on Cici’s face was unmistakable. Having me for a brother was an embarrassment. “Is it that hard to say you’re sorry?” she demanded. I just stared back, my eyes burning. Seeing my defiance, Julian started sobbing louder, nicking his own skin with the knife. That was it. Cici lost her patience. She snatched a thick stick from a groundskeeper’s cart and brought it down hard across my legs. The pain was blinding, a white-hot agony that felt like my bones were splitting. “Aaargh!” A bucket of red paint came next, dumped over my head, the thick liquid blinding me. Humiliation and pain washed over me in a suffocating wave. My mouth filled with the taste of blood, and a wild, crazed laugh bubbled up from my chest. “You’re not my sister anymore! And you will never see Mom again!” Her head snapped up. “Don’t you dare say that! You and Mom are only giving me the silent treatment because you want me to come home! You don’t have to be so stubborn about it!” She shot a look at the crowd, and they understood. Hands grabbed my head, forcing it down, slamming my forehead against the cold stone of the grave three times. Murderer. You deserve to die. The curses swirled around me, but nothing was more humiliating than this. Being forced to bow to the man who had destroyed my life. Through the red haze, I saw Julian, hiding behind Cici, a triumphant smirk on his face. It was like they were acting on her command, a frenzied mob venting their rage. They stomped on my hands, and I heard the sickening snap of my own fingers. A raw, piercing scream tore from my throat, echoing across the hillside. When I was barely conscious, Cici finally raised a hand. “That’s enough. I’ll be putting him in prison myself soon enough. Someone call an ambulance.” I was left on the ground like a piece of trash. Through my blurred vision, I thought I saw a flicker of something, maybe regret, in her eyes. When the ambulance arrived, it wasn’t a paramedic who stepped out, but my psychiatrist. With the last of my strength, I begged him. “No more waiting. Schedule it for today. Please.” … Cici stood frozen, watching the ambulance disappear down the winding road, a sour feeling churning in her stomach. Just then, a group of cemetery workers walked past, carrying a tombstone. She glanced at it, then felt a strange premonition. “Why are you moving that one?” she asked. A worker sighed. “The man’s son couldn’t afford the upkeep fees anymore. We have to move it to the public repository.” The name and photograph on the granite slab flashed past her eyes. Cici’s world tilted, her breath catching in her throat…

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I’m a fertility specialist, though my clients whisper a different title for me in the dark corners of high society: The Resurrectionist. By day, I handle standard IVF cases at a private clinic. By night, I use a lost, archaic technique to harvest viable genetic material—sperm—from men who have just died. It’s a bizarre, exhausting, and highly illegal trade, so I only work for the ultra-wealthy. My starting price is three million dollars. Today, I had just finished sipping champagne at a client’s grandson’s christening when a rush order came in. If I take this job, he will be my seventeenth “husband.” 1 I hadn’t even finished my crab cake when Mrs. Vanderbilt dragged me into the coatroom. “Raven, you have to help. The sky is falling over at the Sterling estate!” “Sterling?” I asked, pulling my sequined headband off. “Julian Sterling. The second son of the billionaire Arthur Sterling. He died this morning. It’s a tragedy—he was supposed to get married next month.” Mrs. Vanderbilt looked frantic. “The body is barely cold. They need an heir, Raven. If they don’t get a child, the Sterling legacy ends.” “If you agree, they’ll pay twenty million. The jet is already on its way.” An out-of-state job? I instinctively wanted to refuse. But then I remembered who the Sterlings were. Old money. Real estate tycoons. I held up five fingers. “Fifty million?” Mrs. Vanderbilt blinked, then made a quick call. She hung up and sighed in relief. “They agreed. But they want to talk to you.” I took the phone. A raspy, grief-stricken male voice spoke on the other end. It was Arthur Sterling himself. “Keep the room warm,” I instructed, skipping the pleasantries. “Body temperature matters. And get me there fast.” The fresher the corpse, the better the harvest. And I hated touching cold bodies. I hung up, burned a piece of paper with Julian’s name on it—my standard ritual to sever ties with the previous client—and headed for the airstrip. Three hours later, I landed at the Sterling estate in the Hudson Valley. It looked less like a house and more like a fortress built of stone and money. Before I could even take in the architecture, a young man in a wheelchair rolled toward me, weeping into a silk handkerchief. “The men of the Sterling family are cursed,” he sobbed. He was dressed in a white suit, his eyes swollen. Despite the mess, he was strikingly handsome. “I’ve been paralyzed since childhood, unable to have children,” he explained. “Who knew Julian would go first? The Sterling line is broken…” This was Adrian Sterling, the older twin brother of the deceased. According to him, Julian, 28, had gone fishing early that morning to catch a prize bass for his brother. He slipped, hit his head, and drowned in the family’s private lake. “We need an heir, Ms. Darkwood. If you succeed, there will be a bonus on top of the fifty million.” “A bonus?” My ears perked up. “How much?” “Ten million more.” Perfect. My grandfather’s dilapidated sanctuary needed a new roof. I kept my face professional. “Mr. Sterling, for a client who cares so deeply about his family, I can offer a premium package. For an additional twenty million, I can guarantee a male heir. Twins, even.” Adrian paused. “Is that… possible?” “With my methods? Anything is possible,” I lied smoothly. Technically, it was a long shot, but I needed the cash. Adrian paid the $35 million deposit without blinking. I was satisfied. I burned a sigil with Julian’s birthdate by the lake where he died, signaling the start of the ritual. “Alright,” I said as the sun went down. “Take me to him.” 2 I was led to Julian’s bedroom. Arthur Sterling, the patriarch, was sitting by the bed, holding his dead son’s hand. He stood up as I entered. “Ms. Darkwood. I assume you understand the need for discretion. I’ll need your phone.” Standard procedure. Rich people hated evidence. “Fine,” I said. “But I have a condition.” “Name it.” “No cameras. No peeping toms. My methods are… proprietary. And ancient. Observing the ritual brings bad luck. Blood luck.” I made it sound spooky, but I just didn’t want anyone seeing my trade secrets. “The room is soundproofed and secluded. There are no cameras,” Arthur assured me. He lied. After they left, I swept the room with my detector. I found a lens hidden in the eye of a priceless collectible figurine on the shelf. Sneaky old fox. I placed a bottle of lotion in front of the figurine, blocking the view. Then, I lit thick, heavy incense and turned on my electronic jammer. The room filled with smoke. Now, I could work. I turned to the bed. Julian Sterling lay there, silent and still. Even pale and slightly bloated from the water, he was devastatingly handsome. I’d seen plenty of corpses, but Julian was a work of art. Broad chest, defined muscles—he clearly lived at the gym. As I began to undress him for the procedure, I couldn’t help but admire the goods. “Well, Your Highness,” I whispered to the body, keeping up the charade in case there were audio bugs. “Tonight, you belong to me. Let’s make some magic happen.” His skin was surprisingly warm. The Sterlings had done a good job preserving the temperature. I took out my kit of silver needles. “Great hair,” I muttered, inserting a needle into a pressure point on his scalp. “Better than the British royals, that’s for sure.” I worked my way down, inserting needles to unlock the post-mortem flow. “And look at these abs. Eight pack. A shame to waste them.” I reached the critical zone. “Impressive equipment, Your Highness. Your future wife would have been a happy woman.” I inserted seven needles to lock the lower meridians and began the specialized massage technique. Thirty minutes later, I prepped the extraction syringe. Nothing. I frowned. I massaged for another fifteen minutes. Tried again. Still nothing. Sweat beaded on my forehead. This had never happened before. I had a 100% success rate with sixteen corpses. I climbed onto the bed, straddling him to get better leverage, using both hands to adjust the needles and massage simultaneously. Suddenly, I froze. I felt something. A pulse. 3 I scrambled off the bed and grabbed my stethoscope. No heartbeat. So, he was dead. I let out a breath. But if he was dead, my technique should work. It only worked on the dead. Unless… I placed my hand on his chest again. The warmth, the elasticity of the skin… it wasn’t right for a body that had been dead for fourteen hours. I glanced at the heart monitor they had disconnected. The family doctor had declared him dead. Wait. I quickly pulled the silver needles from his body. I mixed a special compound of ash and herbs and smeared it on his back. Minutes later, a pattern of red markings appeared on his skin. The Lazarus Trance. It was my grandfather’s secret technique. A state of suspended animation so deep it mimicked death perfectly. Only three people alive knew it: my grandfather, me, and the “Chosen Successor” my grandfather always rambled about. Julian was the Successor? I grabbed my needles and pierced the release points to break the trance. Half an hour passed. He should be awake. But he wasn’t. The storm outside intensified. The room temperature dropped. Julian’s body started to cool rapidly. “Hey! Don’t you dare die on me!” I panicked. If he actually died while I was messing with him, I’d be the prime suspect. I cranked the heat, but he kept getting colder. Desperate, I climbed into bed and wrapped my body around his, trying to share my warmth. “Wake up, Julian! My grandfather is waiting for you!” I slapped his chest rhythmically, chanting the wake-up mantra. After what felt like hours, I heard a faint, raspy whisper near my ear. “Why… did you stop calling me ‘Your Highness’?” I froze. I looked down. Julian’s eyes were open, dark and amused. “You’re alive!” I scrambled back, trying to cover myself with the sheet. “I’ll call the family. They’ll be thrilled. This bonus is going to be huge—” He grabbed the hem of my red ceremonial robe. His grip was weak but firm. “Don’t,” he rasped. “They… they’re the ones who killed me.” I stopped dead. “What?” He pulled me closer, his voice barely a breath. “My brother… he thinks I caused his paralysis years ago. He pushed me into the lake. He wants me dead so he can marry Vanessa… my fiancée.” “Wait,” I whispered. “You couldn’t fight off a guy in a wheelchair?” “I didn’t want to fight him. He’s my brother. I would have given him anything. Even my life…” He coughed. “But I didn’t expect my father to be in on it.” I swallowed hard. “Your father?” “My father married into money. He killed my mother to seize the family fortune years ago. I found the evidence. I told him to turn himself in. He pretended to agree, then told Adrian to get rid of me.” “How do you know all this?” “Dead men hear everything,” Julian smirked bitterly. “They confessed everything to my ‘corpse’ while they were crying over me today.” He looked at me. “You know the technique. You’re from the Sanctuary?” We established our connection. He was indeed the Successor. 4 “Okay,” I said, fixing his pillow. “Since you’re family, I’ll get you out.” “How?” Julian looked hopeless. “They took your phone. The estate is a fortress. Sensors everywhere. A bird can’t fly in without them knowing.” “I have a jammer.” “There’s a camera right outside the window.” I grabbed my jammer, cranked it to max, and peeked through the curtain. The camera’s red light blinked erratically and died. “See?” WOOP-WOOP-WOOP! A siren wailed through the estate. Floodlights blinded me. Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. I scrambled back, dialing down the jammer. The footsteps stopped at the door. Okay, brute force escape was out. “Can we pretend your corpse needs to be moved? Like, for feng shui reasons?” I asked. “They want to bury me ASAP to hide the murder wounds,” Julian whispered. “They won’t let the body leave their sight.” I tapped my chin. “What about your fiancée? Vanessa. Is she trustworthy?” “Vanessa?” Julian’s eyes softened. “Yes. We grew up together. She loves me.” “Okay. You stay dead. I’ll handle the rest.” I handed him a specimen cup. “What’s this?” “I need a sample. To show them I’m doing my job.” He turned red. “Now?” “Yes, now. Chop chop.” The next morning, I walked out with my toolkit. Adrian was waiting in his wheelchair right outside the door. He hadn’t slept. “Well?” “Success,” I said, tapping the container. “Twins are a definite possibility.” Adrian’s eyes lit up.

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My parents died in a plane crash. The family company went bankrupt. My older brother had a mental breakdown from the trauma. To keep the only family I had left, I went crazy trying to make money. For three years, I endured hell. I was drugged and tortured by my brother’s arch-nemesis. I was treated like a toy by his so-called “best friends.” I did things… unspeakable things. I didn’t care. As long as they paid me. As long as I could afford my brother’s treatment. I was willing to be a dog if that’s what it took. But just as I finished my latest “job” and prepared to visit my brother in the hospital, I saw him. Sitting in a Michelin-star restaurant. With my “dead” parents. “Julian, you’ve been playing dead and crazy long enough,” my father said, swirling his wine. “Your sister looks like a skeleton. This punishment game should end.” Julian laughed, a sound I hadn’t heard in years. “Looking like a skeleton is what she deserves. Who told her to keep pushing for Lily to go back to her birth mother? She made Lily so depressed she almost killed herself.” “But you’re right. Three years is enough. For her birthday next week, let’s give her a surprise. We’ll say you survived the crash but had amnesia, and Lily found you. Then I’ll miraculously recover my sanity. She’ll be so grateful to Lily. We’ll be one big happy family again.” My mother frowned slightly. “That story has a lot of holes.” Julian shrugged, unbothered. “It’s Chloe. She’s not exactly bright. She’s eighteen and hasn’t stepped foot in a classroom in years. We can fool her.” … I stood frozen, listening to their conversation. It felt like there was a hole in my heart, dripping blood drop by drop. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But my body was so exhausted I didn’t even have the strength for tears. The three of them continued eating, the picture of harmony. Until a voice cut through the air. “Long time no see, Mr. and Mrs. Vance. Are you done playing house with Julian?” At the sound of that voice, my body began to tremble uncontrollably. I knew that voice. It belonged to Lucas Thorne. My brother’s sworn enemy. The man who, to get back at Julian, had me drugged and locked in a dark room for three days and nights. “Chloe is truly pathetic,” Lucas drawled, walking up to their table. “She barely had a few good days back in this family before she started selling herself to support you all. Willing to be a dog for money. Honestly, she would have been better off never coming back.” My brother’s face darkened. “Stop fear-mongering. She’s just working part-time jobs. She hasn’t stooped to being anyone’s dog.” Lucas smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Is that so? Just working jobs, huh?” “I’m just speaking generally. There was this silly girl whose family went broke. I felt bad for her, so I gave her some… substances. We had a great time together for a few days.” “When she woke up, she didn’t cry or scream. She just asked for money…” He implied everything without saying anything explicitly. After my brother’s “accident,” Lucas was the first to kick us while we were down. I had just paid Julian’s hospital bills and hired a nurse when Lucas kidnapped me. He locked me in a basement, stripped me bare. He drugged me. Forced himself on me. Filmed it. “Your brother is such a high-and-mighty golden boy,” he had whispered. “So I’ll break his little sister.” “Tell me, if he sees his precious sister screaming under me, will he go even crazier?” I was terrified he would show the video to Julian. I bit my tongue until it bled to keep from making a sound. When he didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he found new ways to torture me. My entire body, except for my face, was covered in scars. Chapter 1 Julian sneered, his voice dripping with disgust. “Only asking for money? That’s no different from prostitution. How cheap.” “Women like that are a dime a dozen. God knows what diseases she has. Only you, Lucas, would have a stomach strong enough for that.” “Just a warning: she’s young, but playing around like that? Careful you don’t catch something.” Lucas smiled, a cold, humorless expression. “Yeah. She really doesn’t have any self-respect.” His gaze drifted past the decorative plants and landed squarely on me. My father, knowing the bad blood between the two men, tried to smooth things over. “Young men like to play, it’s normal. Just don’t ruin your health over it.” “If you like her, just keep her as a canary in a cage. Clean, available whenever you want. No need to mess around with street trash.” Lucas nodded slowly, as if enlightened. “You’re right, sir.” “I really should keep her close.” My heart hammered against my ribs. A cold sweat broke out on my back. The wounds I thought had healed began to throb with phantom pain. Julian noticed the worry on our mother’s face and puffed out his chest. “Mom, don’t worry. My plan is flawless. I asked my best friends to look after Chloe.” “Chloe isn’t like that loose woman Lucas is talking about. She wouldn’t sell her body.” “If you don’t believe me, I can call them right now…” He glared at Lucas and dialed one of his “best friends.” “Hey, Tyler? It’s Julian. I asked you to take care of my sister. everything’s good, right?” On the other end, Tyler’s voice sounded forced. “Julian… yeah. Taking care of Chloe? Of course. I’ve been… taking great care of her. She’s very grateful.” “I have to say, your sister is so obedient. She’ll do anything for you.” Julian looked smug. “Of course. Since she came back to the Vance family, I’ve been the one who cared for her most. Kids like her, who never got love growing up… once they taste a little kindness, they’ll sacrifice everything.” “Just let her suffer a bit with work, then stop. She’s still my biological sister. She needs to come back and be the Vance family heiress eventually.” “You… still consider her your sister?” Tyler slipped up, then quickly corrected himself. “Right, right. Whatever you say, Julian.” Julian made two more calls. Both friends confirmed they would continue to “take care” of me. Until Julian decided the game was over. I smiled. A bitter, broken smile. Is Julian an idiot? How could he think “taking care of her” meant anything good coming from them? After Lucas tortured me, I was terrified he would come back. So I went to Julian’s friends for help. Instead, I was blackmailed. Tyler and the others—Julian’s “brothers”—used the recordings Lucas made to threaten me. They wanted me to be their mistress. Their toy. They had played with every kind of woman, but never one from their own social circle. Never a fallen heiress. I became their prey. After every session, they threw money at me. I lived a life worse than death. And all of this… all of it was because Julian wanted to punish me. Punish me for taking the place of his “real” sister, the girl he loved like family. I turned to leave. I couldn’t breathe. But someone slammed into me from behind. I fell hard, my forehead cracking against the marble floor. “Watch where you’re going!” Lily shrieked, clutching her arm. The commotion drew the attention of the Vance trio. “Are you blind? Are you trying to kill me?” Lily raised her foot, clad in a sharp stiletto heel, and stomped down on my hand. Blood instantly gushed from the wound. I tried to pull my hand back, but Julian rushed over and kicked me square in the chest. “Since when do Michelin restaurants let beggars in?” “This filth got blood on my sister’s shoes!” “Manager! Where is the manager?” Chapter 2 The manager rushed over, bowing apologetically. “I’m so sorry, sir, miss. I’ll have her removed immediately. Today’s meal is on the house. Please let me know if you need anything else.” Lily glanced down. When she saw my face, her eyes lit up with excitement. “We don’t need your charity.” “Since this lowlife dirtied my shoes, make her kneel and lick the blood off.” The manager hesitated. But Lucas walked over, the picture of elegance and refinement. “I agree with Miss Lily,” he said smoothly. “It’s only right that she cleans up her mess.” He stepped forward, grabbed a handful of my hair, and dragged me to Lily’s feet. He leaned down, whispering in my ear. “If you keep your mouth shut, I might just have to ‘discipline’ you right here.” I opened my mouth, trembling. The metallic taste of blood filled my throat. Lily watched with glee, her eyes shining with the thrill of humiliation. When her heel was clean, she finally pulled her foot away as if granting a great mercy. She threw herself into my parents’ arms. “Mommy, Daddy, I missed you so much!” “Studying abroad was so tiring. You have to stay home and keep me company.” Blood and tears blurred my vision. Julian had told me Lily was sold off to pay our debts. I was consumed by guilt. I remembered my foster parents calling me a jinx. I believed my return had caused the Vance family’s ruin. So I worked myself to the bone. I sold my soul to buy Lily back. Even though my parents were “gone.” I wanted Julian to have a complete family again. I was dragged out of the restaurant by security. People stared. Some looked at me like I was a cockroach. Some looked with pity. Lucas followed leisurely behind. Once the security guards let go, he grabbed my hair again and shoved me into his car. Back to the familiar basement. He dragged me to the sink and scrubbed my face roughly. “I love destroying things that are full of life,” he hissed. “Deceived by the brother you loved. Deceived by your parents. And yet you took their lies for truth and willingly destroyed yourself.” “Tell me… is this game fun? Is it fun?” I didn’t sleep that night. The next day, he dressed me up like a human being and dumped me in front of the mental hospital where Julian was “staying.” The guard at the gate looked at me with concern. “Chloe, you look terrible.” “Don’t work so hard. You need to take care of yourself.” I nodded numbly and walked to Julian’s ward. He was wandering around in his hospital pajamas. When he saw my reflection in the mirror, he instantly switched into “crazy mode.” He pinched me. Bit me. Screamed that I was a curse. After a while, he would “lucidly” apologize, weeping. “Chloe… Chloe, leave me alone.” “Don’t waste your life on me.” He was such a good actor. I let him bite me. Let him hit me. Watched him cry. I felt nothing. “No need to apologize,” I said quietly. “Brother, I saved enough money. You can get the treatment soon. Your favorite sister will come back to you.” “No one will ever disturb your happy family again.” Julian looked moved. He took the bank card from my hand. Then his eyes caught the mangled wound on the back of my hand. “Chloe, your hand…” I pulled it back. “You can’t make money without getting hurt.” He sensed something was wrong, but he didn’t dare ask. He just gave a hollow instruction. “Take care of yourself.” I left. The moment I walked out, he got into a waiting car. My phone buzzed. A text from Lily. Following the address, I arrived at a riverside villa. It wasn’t just the Vances. Lily’s rich friends were there too. A welcome back party. Someone mistook me for hired help and gave me a waitress uniform. I put it on and walked in. My parents gifted Lily jewelry worth millions. Julian handed her a contract transferring ownership of a subsidiary company. And my bank card… the money I bled for… Julian placed it in Lily’s palm. “Chloe saved this for three years. Take it. Use it for pocket money.” I laughed. A dry, rasping sound. Chapter 3 Three years of selling my body, my dignity, my health. Handed over to the person I hated most like it was spare change. It was hilarious. Truly. I turned to leave, but my path was blocked. Tyler and the others stood there, smirking. “Lily was right. You really came to snitch.” “You b*tch. Trying to ruin our friendship with Julian?” My phone buzzed again. A text from Lily. [Serve my brother’s friends well. Don’t be ungrateful.] “Chloe, you haven’t hung out with us in a while,” Tyler leered. “Today’s a celebration. Come on, let’s have some fun.” I knocked over a vase, smashing it toward them, and ran into the crowd. It was a party. If I caused a scene, people would notice. I could escape. I was almost there. But Tyler tackled me. He slammed my face into the floor. Hearing the commotion, Julian walked over from the main group. He frowned at his frantic friends. “What are you doing?” “Bullying a waitress?” I opened my mouth to scream, but Tyler clamped his hand over my mouth. “This waitress tried to seduce me. A classic badger game. I was just teaching her a lesson.” I couldn’t speak. I used every ounce of strength to grab Julian’s pant leg. He was about to kick my hand away when he saw the wound. The one Lily gave me yesterday. “Her hand…” Tyler laughed nervously. “People like her get hurt all the time, right?” “True.” Julian didn’t question it. “Tyler, keep it down. I thought about setting you up with Chloe, but she’s too dirty now. I won’t insult you like that.” Tyler smirked. “Got it.” Lily called out from behind him, and Julian turned to leave. I was gagged and dragged upstairs. I heard my father’s voice. “What are you boys doing?” A spark of hope ignited. Maybe Dad would save me. But his next words pushed me into the abyss. “Don’t kill anyone.” I was thrown into a room. The men surrounded me, expecting me to submit like before. I lay there quietly. Like a puppet with its strings cut. They hit me. Cursed me. I took it in silence. “Boring. She’s like a corpse.” “Take some photos and let’s go. She’s broken anyway.” They posed me, snapped pictures, and left, locking the door from the outside. I took out my phone. I found Julian’s contact. I sent one message. [If there is a next life, Brother… please don’t come find me.] If you don’t find me, you can’t give me hope. If I don’t have hope, maybe my life won’t be this tragic. I walked to the balcony like a ghost. I looked at the sunset. I reached out, wanting to touch it. I desperately wanted to grab that last bit of warmth. I leaned out too far. Gravity took over. The world spun. From noise to silence. Chapter 4 The sound of a heavy object hitting the ground drew attention. But few people cared enough to check. A servant went to look, then reported back to Julian. “It’s a woman who fell. Wearing a waitress uniform. Clothes are torn.” “Looks like she was just… used by someone.” Julian immediately thought of Tyler’s group. He didn’t want a scandal, especially with business partners involved. “Get rid of the body. Find a quiet place and dump it. If she’s found, it’ll look like a hit-and-run or a body dump. Nothing to do with us.” The servant nodded and went to handle it. Turning back to Lily, Julian resumed his gentle demeanor. “Is there anything else you want to do now that you’re back? I can arrange it.” “The entertainment industry is fun these days. Want me to open an agency for you? You can scout handsome actors.” He spoke of opening a company like buying candy. Whatever Lily wanted, he would give. Because in his heart, Lily was his sister. And I… the one stolen for eighteen years… was just a stranger with the same blood. Even if this stranger sold her soul to the devil for him. He didn’t care. As long as Lily was happy, nothing else mattered. My bones were shattered. Blood bubbled from my mouth. The servant looked at my mangled face and sighed. “Poor thing. Next time, don’t try to mix with the rich. Their hands are always bloody.” “I’ll dump you near the highway. Try to call for help. Whether you live or die is up to fate.” Another servant shoved him aside and threw me into the trunk like a sack of garbage. “Who cares? She’s damaged goods. Dead is dead.” “If she wanted to kill herself, who can she blame?” Suddenly, Julian felt a wave of panic. Mom found him, looking worried. “Julian, I don’t know why, but my heart is racing.” “You said the game is ending. Why didn’t you bring Chloe today?” “You don’t think… something happened to her?” Julian quickly reassured her. “I saw her at the hospital this morning. The game officially ends tomorrow. You’ll see her then.” Tomorrow was my birthday. He planned to surprise me then. He reached into his pocket for his phone. He had felt it vibrate earlier but ignored it. The message list was empty. Unbeknownst to him, Lily had already accessed his cloud account and deleted my final text. Frowning, Julian dialed my number. No answer. Was I still working? He was confused. He had the money now. Why was I still hustling? My body was dumped on the border between the suburbs and the city. I lay on dry grass and rocks. I had landed face down. When the car drove away, I used the last of my strength to turn over. Breathing was agony. Dried blood crusted my lips. I stared up at the night sky. My memories played like a movie reel. I remembered when I first came back to the Vances. I was skinny, scarred. Julian had been furious on my behalf. “We treated their daughter like a princess, and this is how they treated my sister?” Lily had cried then. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know my bio-parents were like that! It’s all my fault Chloe suffered!” She cried so pitifully that no one dared defend me. That night, a maid rushed downstairs. Lily had slit her wrists. “Master! Madam! Miss Lily hurt herself!” She was rushed to the hospital. When she woke up, she apologized again. “I just wanted to atone. I should repay Chloe with my life.” My father thought I had bullied her. He made me kneel. Eight hours a day, until Lily came home. That wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. When Lily returned, Julian gave her a pink diamond. The next day, it was in my drawer. She cried to me with red eyes. “Chloe, I know you suffered, but everything in this house belongs to you and Julian. Why steal the diamond Julian gave me?” Julian found it in my room. He slapped me hard. “The Vance family has never had a thief.” “Those people really raised you crooked.” I was sent to juvenile detention for three months. Then came the plane crash. Julian’s breakdown. The frozen assets. I remembered Julian’s initial kindness and couldn’t bear to leave him. So I started earning money. I thought Lily was suffering with debtors. I tried to find her. But she was living the high life abroad. From start to finish, I was the only one in hell. The party ended. The blood stain was scrubbed clean. Julian stared at his silent phone. No messages. An unsettling feeling grew in his chest.

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My relationship with Professor Adam Lawson was a secret, a four-year violation of the university’s strict ban on student-faculty relationships. Just before graduation, I begged him to come home with me to meet my parents. His hand, which had been caressing my waist, froze. “Are you serious?” I nodded, my heart pounding. But a slow, dismissive smile spread across his face. “Your father asked me to look after you. If he found out I’ve been sleeping with his precious daughter, he’d probably kill me.” He leaned in, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “Stop messing around. Screwing is one thing, Ava. But for marriage? You’ll have to find someone else.” I froze. He kissed me then, a brief, meaningless gesture of affection before pressing a slip of paper into my hand. “That’s my nephew’s contact info,” he said. “He’s your age. Why don’t you give him a call?” 1 Adam’s voice was casual, laced with the lazy satisfaction of a man who’d just gotten what he wanted. On any other day, this was when he was most agreeable. He’d say yes to anything. But today, though his tone was light, the words held an undeniable finality. The piece of paper in my hand felt like it was burning a hole through my skin. I wanted to crumple it up, to throw it in the trash, to scream at him, After four years, was there ever a single moment of genuine feeling for me? But my mind went numb, flashing back to a scene from three nights ago. Adam had just been promoted. His friends took him out to a bar to celebrate, and by the time he called me, he was already drunk, his words slurring as he asked me to pick him up. When I found him, he was leaning against a brick wall outside, a cigarette dangling from two fingers, a lighter flickering in his other hand. As the flame caught, one of his friends asked, “Ava’s been with you for four years, man. Aren’t you going to make it official?” “Your final thesis defense is coming up,” another chimed in. “After that, you won’t be professor and student anymore.” I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was the day I had been waiting for, dreaming of for four long years—the day I could finally stand by his side in the open. The day I wouldn’t have to duck my head and avoid his gaze when we passed on campus, when I could call him something other than the formal, sterile title everyone else used: “Professor Lawson.” I was desperate to hear his answer. But in the next second, he took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled a plume of white smoke. A smirk played on his lips, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. “Are you serious? Her dad asked me to look after her, that’s it. What feelings? Make it official? Get real.” “Dude, he didn’t ask you to look after her in your bed!” his friend shot back, shocked. Adam just chuckled, a low, dismissive sound. “She came onto me.” “And I’m not a saint.” I couldn’t name the feeling that washed over me then. It was a sharp, twisting pain in my chest, and my eyes burned. On instinct, I turned and ran. I didn’t go back to his apartment or to my dorm. I bought a six-pack of beer and went to the beach, chugging it down, trying to drown the image of his smiling face from my mind. But it was no use. I ended up black-out drunk, and in the end, it was Adam who came to get me. He never asked what was wrong. He didn’t care. He just took me home, and his lips found mine in the darkness. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me into a familiar, dizzying climb. The pathetic thing was, I couldn’t resist him. It was only at the very end, when I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, that I bit down hard on his shoulder, drawing blood. I forced him to whisper the words I so desperately needed to hear. “I love you.” I used to secretly delight in the thought that Adam, a man who was wealthy, brilliant, and constantly surrounded by beautiful women, had chosen me. Now I knew the truth. He hadn’t chosen me. He had selected me. Pretty, naive, and clean. And the forbidden thrill of sleeping with a student—that was just an added bonus. “Not happy with the arrangement?” Adam’s voice pulled me back to the present. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for my response. He had already dressed, his dark hair now swept back from his forehead. He had the kind of eyes that made everyone feel like they were the center of his world, a smile so warm it could melt you. But if you looked closer, you’d see the truth: a cold, detached clarity that kept everyone at a distance. “Ava, don’t be difficult. Okay?” A long moment passed before I found my voice, a dry, scratchy thing. “Fine.” 2 After that night, Adam and I didn’t speak for a week. The withdrawal was agonizing. I poured every ounce of my energy into my graduation thesis, hoping the work would numb the pain. On the day of my presentation, Adam was one of the evaluating professors. When he saw me, his gaze was utterly blank, his expression unreadable. He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. My hands tightened on the textbook I was holding, a wave of nausea rolling through me. I forced myself to walk past him, pretending not to care, and took a seat in the last row. This presentation was the final hurdle to graduation, and my classmates were a mess of nerves, wringing their hands. All except for one girl sitting directly behind Adam. She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes fixed on the back of his head, adoration practically radiating from her. Adam seemed to sense her stare. He turned, a small, weary smile on his face, and whispered something to her. I was too far away to hear, but I could read his lips. Focus. Stop messing around. His tone was indulgent, affectionate—the same tone he only ever used with me in bed. My eyes started to burn again. The third student finished their presentation. The girl, whose name I now knew was Claire, was next. She wore a simple white dress, her makeup subtle and confident as she walked to the podium. As she passed, I could have sworn her eyes flickered toward me, a flash of undisguised hostility in her gaze. I had no idea why. Then, her presentation appeared on the projector, and my world tilted on its axis. My roommate reacted first. “Ava, your topics are the same?” No. It was more than that. From the very first word she spoke, I knew. This wasn’t just the same topic. This was my thesis. The data, the citations, the arguments—I had spent months researching, verifying, and writing every single word. “Excuse me.” I shot to my feet. The professors in the front row turned, their faces etched with annoyance. On stage, Claire paused, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her face. “Yes? Do you have a problem? Don’t you know this is a formal defense?” one of the professors snapped. I bit my lip, my fists clenched. “Yes, I know. But I have a question.” “And what would that be?” Claire asked, her voice sweet as poison. Before I could answer, she continued, “You’re not going to say our topics are the same, are you? Or maybe… that I stole your paper? That I plagiarized you?” “Didn’t you?!” I shot back, my voice shaking with rage. “Even if the topics were similar, it’s impossible for the data, the citations, and the entire argument to be identical!” I walked to the front and handed my printed thesis and a USB drive to the professors. They took them, their expressions skeptical, and began to compare the two documents. As they read, their faces grew grim. “What is the meaning of this?” I shook my head. “I don’t know why her thesis is identical to mine, but I swear on my life, this is my original work. My roommate can vouch for me.” Claire just laughed. “Well, my roommate can vouch for me, too. And I have my drafts. Do you want to see them?” She pulled two stacks of handwritten notes from her bag. The writing was messy, but the notes were undeniably real. My head spun, and my eyes instinctively found Adam, a desperate flicker of hope igniting in my chest. He had been there when I chose my topic. He had seen my first draft. If he would just speak up for me, I could— But his voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and impatient. “If you can’t prove your case, then don’t waste everyone else’s time.” He looked directly at me, his eyes cold. “Furthermore, you are under suspicion of plagiarism. You will receive a failing grade.” The world went white. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing, my eyes instantly flooding with tears. “What did you say?” “I plagiarized? Adam, do you dare say that again?!” He frowned. The noisy classroom fell silent. My roommate, terrified I was about to cause a scene, rushed over and pulled me away, apologizing profusely to Adam. “Professor, I’m so sorry, she didn’t mean it. She’s pulled so many all-nighters for this thesis… This is just… hard for her to accept.” Adam sat motionless, his expression unreadable. He waited until I was gone before signaling for Claire to continue. 3 Back in the dorm, my roommate tried to console me. “That girl today, her name is Claire Sterling. I heard her father is on the university’s board of directors. She has connections, Ava. Even if she did steal your work, you can’t fight her head-on like that.” I wasn’t listening. I was tearing my room apart, searching for my own drafts. I found nothing. They had been stolen. My roommate suggested checking the security cameras, but warned me it was a long shot. I was heading downstairs to try anyway when a text from Adam lit up my phone. [I’ll give you an explanation for what happened today.] [Come to my faculty apartment.] I took a deep breath, clutched my phone, and ran. He had just showered. A towel was slung around his neck, his dark hair damp and falling across his forehead. I could still see the faint mark of my teeth on his shoulder. The moment the door closed behind me, I demanded, “Why?” “Do you have any proof that you didn’t plagiarize?” “How am I supposed to prove it? My drafts were stolen, and my roommate’s word isn’t enough. I thought you would help me. You saw how hard I worked on this. I even asked for your advice on the topic. And what did you say?!” My voice cracked. “With one word—plagiarism, fail—you destroyed months of my work. Now I might not even be able to graduate!” “Four years. I was with you for four years, Adam. Don’t you have a heart?!” The dam finally broke. Tears of betrayal and hurt streamed down my face, splashing onto the floor. Four years ago, my dad, a high-ranking officer, had been worried about me being alone in a new city. He’d asked Adam, a family friend’s son, to look after me. From the first day I met him, I was hopelessly smitten. He never rejected my adLawsons, always indulging my every move. I thought he liked me, too, so I worked tirelessly to be worthy of him. I made the dean’s list every year. I planned to apply to the same research institute as him after graduation. I had poured my soul into that goal. I had hoped my thesis presentation would be my crowning achievement. And what had he given me in return? He sighed, a weary sound, and reached out to wipe away my tears. I flinched away. “Crying at the first sign of trouble. You’re still such a child. Can’t handle the slightest setback. What have you even learned these past four years?” He looked away. “Let the thing with Claire go. It’s over.” “I’ll give you a chance to retake the exam. You can just—” I looked up, horrified, unable to believe this was the man I had known, the man I had loved for four years. “What did you say? You expect me to just accept the plagiarism charge?” “Is this your idea of an explanation?” He didn’t look at me. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on the table. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “At least this way you’ll be able to graduate. I know you want to check the security footage, but I might as well tell you.” “The cameras have been down for maintenance for the past few days. You won’t find anything.” “Oh, and there’s one more thing I forgot to tell you.” He paused, turning to look at me out of the corner of his eye. “Claire is my fiancée.” For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. 4 I don’t remember how I left his apartment that day. But I fell violently ill afterward, a feverish haze that lasted for nearly two weeks. My roommate learned not to mention the thesis around me. But I still heard Claire’s name whispered in the halls. She had been accepted into Adam’s prestigious research institute. Her thesis was praised for its “forward-thinking” approach, and doors opened for her everywhere. With her status as Adam Lawson’s fiancée, no one dared to say a negative word about her. The university’s strict ban on student-faculty relationships, it seemed, didn’t apply to Claire. By the third week, I finally dragged myself out of bed. I skipped the graduation ceremony, focusing instead on studying for my retake exam and applying to other research institutes. But the rejections came one after another. Every background check failed. The black mark of plagiarism still hung over my name. Sitting in my empty dorm room, I stared at another polite rejection email, a profound sense of helplessness washing over me for the first time. “Ava, don’t lose hope,” my roommate said, trying to comfort me. I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to close the browser, my inbox pinged. My hand, resting on the mouse, began to tremble. My heart leaped into my throat. I braced myself for another rejection, but then I read the words: Congratulations, Ava. We are delighted to welcome you to the team. My eyes began to sting. After hundreds of emails and countless interviews over the past few weeks, the tension that had been coiled in my stomach for so long finally snapped. The institute was in San Francisco. The HR manager added me on a messaging app, confirmed my start date, and we settled on the day after tomorrow. I read and reread the word “Congratulations.” I carefully asked about the background check, and they assured me everything was fine. Finally, I let myself cry. My roommate, hearing I was moving to the West Coast, insisted on a farewell dinner. I didn’t refuse. We both knew that after graduation, our paths would diverge. But I never expected to hear from Adam again. [Claire found out about us. To reassure her, you’re going to meet my nephew tomorrow at 3 PM.] It wasn’t a request. It was an order. I thought seeing his name would still stir something in me, some flicker of pain or longing. But I felt nothing. It was like staring at a stranger’s name. I didn’t reply. I just blocked his number. My flight to San Francisco was at 3 PM tomorrow. I hoped I would never have to see Adam Lawson again. … Adam frowned at his phone. The message remained unread. He hadn’t paid much attention to Ava’s life recently, but he knew she’d been busy. After her retake exam, she had been relentlessly sending out applications, going on interview after interview. The top institutes in Boston had all rejected her, citing the failed background check. It had become a running joke among some students. He hadn’t cared. But yesterday, he’d seen her eating in a restaurant. And a strange, heavy feeling had settled in his chest. She had lost so much weight. Her waist was so thin he could have circled it with one hand. She was listening quietly as her roommate talked, her frame so fragile, her face pale and drawn. She looked like she could collapse at any moment. That’s when he remembered. She had been sick for a while. On the day of her retake exam, her face had been as white as a sheet of paper. So, that night, he had pulled some strings and arranged for another position to open up at his institute. He planned to offer her a job as his assistant. But somehow, Claire had found out. She’d thrown a fit, convinced he was still hung up on Ava. Claire, despite being the same age as Ava, had a temper that exhausted him. Their engagement had been arranged by their families since they were children. He knew they would get married eventually, so he gave in. That’s why he’d sent Ava the text. He never imagined that Ava, who used to reply to his messages in seconds, would simply ignore him. An unfamiliar wave of irritation washed over him. Then, he saw a message in a group chat: [You guys hear?! The girl who got rejected everywhere just landed a job! At that top-tier institute in San Francisco!] 5 At two in the afternoon, my phone rang. Adam. I declined the call. He immediately called back from a different number. Again and again, until I finally snapped and answered. “What do you want?” I said, my voice sharp. The airport was bustling. I found a quiet corner after checking my luggage. The line was silent for a long time. Just as I was about to hang up, Adam finally spoke. “I hear you’re going to San Francisco.” I didn’t deny it. I knew he’d find out sooner or later. “You got such a great offer. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Why should I tell you? Who are you to me? My former professor? My ex-fuck buddy?” I heard his sharp intake of breath. “Don’t call me again,” I said, my voice cold. “This kind of pathetic chasing isn’t like you, Adam.” I hung up and blocked the new number. Before, when I loved him, I would have given him anything. Call me a fool, call me lovesick, I didn’t care. I believed in giving everything to the person I loved, without expecting anything in return. I didn’t regret our four years together. Not even now. But I had made the choice to walk away. No matter how much I had loved him, it was in the past. I could look back, but I would never, ever go back. When I landed in San Francisco, a colleague from the institute was there to pick me up. He looked vaguely familiar. There was a faint resemblance to Adam in the set of his eyes, but his presence was calmer, more grounded. He lacked Adam’s careless, playboy charm. “Hi, I’m Leo Lawson,” he said, introducing himself. My head snapped up. The name clicked into place, the same name from the crumpled piece of paper Adam had given me. And then another thought struck me. He was supposed to be in Boston, waiting for me on a blind date he knew nothing about. What was he doing in San Francisco? “Is something wrong?” Leo asked, noticing my silence. He waved a hand in front of my face. “Uh…” I cleared my throat, embarrassed. “No, nothing.” Leo studied me. “Are you sure? Are you feeling airsick?” “I’m fine,” I repeated, forcing a smile. If he didn’t recognize me, then he must have been just as opposed to Adam’s meddling as I was. Since he wasn’t bringing it up, neither would I. Leo and Adam were complete opposites. Leo was an old soul in a young man’s body. Though he was only twenty-three, he carried himself with the quiet gravity of someone much older. He put my luggage in the trunk and held the car door open for me, his hand carefully placed on the frame to make sure I didn’t hit my head. As he drove, he was the picture of perfect form—eyes on the road, hands at ten and two, posture ramrod straight. He didn’t play music or the radio, and he didn’t make small talk. The silence was absolute. The old me would have found it suffocating. But now, it was a relief. I didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to force a conversation. I was about to close my eyes when Leo’s phone buzzed. He frowned, clearly annoyed by the interruption. He glanced at me, saw my eyes were open again, and apologized. “Sorry to disturb you.” Then, he declined the call and blocked the number. All in one smooth, efficient motion. I said nothing. The caller had been Adam.

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After pretending to be poor for three years, Julian finally decided I was worthy. He felt I was good enough to marry him. To get me to agree, he bought every billboard in South City just to apologize. Then, fireworks lit up the city for a month straight while he proposed. But in the fourth year of our marriage, he got his first young, delicate mistress. When I found out, he didn’t panic. He just arrogantly put out his cigarette, looking at me with cold indifference. “Are you sure you want to make a scene? Are the bank notifications not convincing enough?” I froze for a moment, opened my mouth, but couldn’t say a word. 1 It wasn’t until our wedding anniversary, when that young girl walked in wearing the exact same pearl necklace as me, that I understood a simple truth: you can’t live on promises. But back then, I was still naive. I tore the heavy South Sea pearl necklace from my neck. The pearls were large and lustrous. Julian’s butler once told me he bid for them personally at auctions. Maybe he bid on too many. Same size, same quality, same craftsmanship. It was impossible to ignore. I threw the broken necklace into Julian’s face. Pearls scattered everywhere, rolling onto the carpet. Julian’s face darkened slightly, but he didn’t lose his composure. He leaned back in his Italian leather chair, blowing a smoke ring casually. “Amy, are you sure you want to make a scene?” I clenched my fists, staring at his calm demeanor. Suddenly, all my strength drained away, and my heart turned to ice. The young girl was terrified by our standoff, hiding behind him like a frightened deer, tears welling up in her round eyes. He laughed at her reaction, pinching her cheek. “Look at you, so scared.” I stood there, mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. Just bitterness. His question was so certain. I had no capital to make a scene. Three years ago, when my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer, my dependence on Julian grew, and our relationship became unbalanced. After all, I relied on him for everything. He arranged the hospital, the doctors, the surgery fees, the recovery costs. Everything. Including my current comfortable life. So he didn’t even bother hiding his little mistress from me. Even if I found out, what could I do? 2 I don’t remember how I left the party. I only remember my legs feeling like lead, every step a struggle. The delicate student girlfriend ran after me, looking anxious. She told me not to be angry, that Julian was just joking, that I shouldn’t take it seriously. Joking? She was on his arm, wearing the same necklace as his wife, at my anniversary party, and she called it a joke. I felt suffocated, hating myself for compromising. Just four years of marriage, and I was groveling under Julian’s wealth and power. I didn’t want to engage with her. I threw off her hand. I didn’t use much force. But she fell. Her pale knees scraped against the ground, bleeding instantly. Before I could react, I was shoved hard. “Amy, are you done?” Julian helped her up tenderly. I stumbled back, stepping on the loose pearls on the carpet, and crashed into the champagne tower. The tower, as tall as a man, collapsed on top of me. My dress was soaked in golden liquid. I tried to get up, slipping on pearls and glass shards. Shards pierced my heels and knees. But Julian didn’t even look back. He called for a first aid kit and gently cleaned the girl’s wounds. As he led her away, he finally glanced at me. “Can you stop embarrassing yourself?” I watched them leave, him supporting her with his body, protecting her as if she were made of glass. One of his friends pulled me up, lecturing me. “Sister-in-law, men need face. You were too undignified today.” I scoffed at his self-righteousness. “Get lost.” “Pah! Ungrateful woman! Look at your age! Still acting like a princess? See who cares about you now.” Acting like a princess? They thought I was just acting like a princess back then. 3 Four years ago, when I found out Julian had been pretending to be poor, I felt humiliated. I insisted on breaking up. His friends came to persuade me then, too. “Amy, have some pity! He hasn’t eaten in days. If you ignore him, he’ll die.” “Amy, we’ve never seen Julian this serious about a woman. Everyone has defenses. Just pretend your boyfriend won the lottery!” Julian had money and power, and his friends were his lobbyists. He permeated every part of my life, turning it upside down. I ignored him, but everywhere I went, LED billboards played his apologies. “Amy, it’s all my mistake…” “Amy, please see me again!” “How much to buy back my girlfriend’s forgiveness?” … One billboard cost more than my monthly salary. It seemed sincere, but I kept remembering the three years he watched me struggle. He said he was poor, with only a mother, and wanted to study. To make ends meet, I often worked two jobs. At my worst, I was laid off and delivered food after hours. For his birthday, I delivered food for a month to buy him a new laptop. There were nights of torrential rain. I was thrown off my scooter, nearly washed into a storm drain. I limped home, only to hear him discussing with his friends how to reveal the “surprise” to me. I stood at the door, frozen, and dropped the laptop. 4 My poor boyfriend was one of the richest men in the city. The laptop I risked my life for wasn’t even worth one of his meals. It was absurd. Rich people have so many ways to have fun. Why play with ordinary people’s feelings? The details I had ignored came flooding back. No wonder he was poor but picky about food. No wonder he didn’t know how to use my cheap water heater. No wonder he couldn’t relate to my complaints about rent and prices. I was blind. 5 He apologized a thousand times. But I heard something else. “You did well. You passed my test. Now I reward you by letting you be with me. Aren’t you happy?” I hit him, bit him, kicked him, threw the laptop at him. He protected the laptop and fell down the stairs. He held the computer like a treasure, looking at me pitifully. “Amy, I’m sorry…” I didn’t want to forgive him. My bruises still hurt. He said he loved me, couldn’t leave me. Then how could he watch me suffer? How could he use my struggle as a metric for his test? Three years! We slept in the same bed for three years. How can you play with a person like that? I ignored him for months. He bought my apartment building. I was ready to leave the city. But then, an accident happened. Before I could resign, Julian’s friends found me. They said Julian, heartbroken by my refusal, agreed to go abroad for his mother. He was on a flight last night. And that flight crashed. I watched the news, mind blank. I never thought he would die. We were together for three years. Even at his “poorest,” I never thought of leaving him. How could I not love him? I just couldn’t accept the deception. I rushed to the airport, watching families waiting anxiously. My legs gave out. I squatted in the hall, crying. That’s when Julian appeared. He wiped my tears, voice trembling. “Amy… do you still want me?” I looked up. His eyes were burning. He pulled me into a tight hug. “I didn’t get on the plane, Amy. I couldn’t leave you.” “Amy, give me another chance?” “Amy, do I have to die for you to look at me again?” 6 Like the suspension bridge effect, people forgive easily in the face of death. He proposed, lighting up the city with fireworks for a month. The first year or two of marriage were happy. He was a model husband, home by ten every night. “Sorry, gotta go home. The wife is strict.” “No more drinks, the wife will get mad.” When did it change? The economic gap, especially after my dad got sick, made me dependent on him like a vine. When one person knows the other can’t leave, humanity is tested. Dad’s cancer was advanced. The imported drugs were astronomical for me. I relied on Julian. Before marriage, I had a good job. Julian didn’t stop me at first. But after Dad got sick: “Mrs. Sterling working for peanuts? It’s embarrassing.” I felt uncomfortable but submitted, handing in my resignation. Leaving the Sterling villa, I went to the hospital. Dad was suffering from side effects. Rash, pneumonia. I heard him coughing from the hallway. When I entered, he held it in, looking at me. I felt a pang of sorrow seeing him so frail. I had changed clothes, but the cuts on my knees and arms still hurt. Dad noticed immediately. “Amy, what happened?” “Nothing, just fell.” He pulled up my sleeve, revealing the cuts. “How did you fall like this?” “Tripped on gravel.” Dad sighed, pulling out ointment. “Still so clumsy.” I was afraid to speak, afraid he’d sense something wrong. But he knew. “Amy, are you hiding something? Is Julian treating you well?” “Yes! You know how much effort he put into marrying me.” “Amy, people change. Relying too much on someone leads to disrespect.” “If possible, I hope you can find a job. Have your own ground to stand on.” “I’m looking. Once Dad gets better, I’ll work.” “Amy, everyone dies. Don’t be stubborn. Don’t let Julian look down on you because of me.” “No, Julian is good.” Just then, the hospital TV flashed news about Julian. Fireworks again. But this time, not for me. A young girl, smiling shyly next to him. “Sterling CEO’s New Love.” Dad coughed violently, blood on the sheets. I panicked. He grabbed me. “Amy, what is this?”

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When the results of the second mock exams came out, I, the perpetual valedictorian, was dead last. Suddenly, a stream of text floated across my vision like a live chat: [The male lead is so screwed! Everyone around him has activated the Swap System. They’re forcibly trading attributes with him.] [Swapping grades is just the beginning…] The comments were all lamenting my tragic fate. Until the next day. The person who stole my grades suddenly dropped dead. 01 [Congratulations! You have identified the first Swapper!] [Please identify all hidden Swappers before the SATs. Failure to do so will result in the “Human Swine” penalty.] [Swappers identified: 1] [Countdown to SATs: 44 days] The system’s cold notification rang in my head. I clenched my fists. Beside me, my desk mate, Caleb, was gossiping with a look of disbelief. “…They say she was just walking down the street and boom, heart attack. She was perfectly healthy during the last checkup.” Seeing my distracted expression, Caleb lowered his voice. “But it is weird, right? Sarah from AP Bio was always failing, but this time she got the highest score in the school. And right after that, she drops dead. People are saying she messed with some dark magic or something.” I forced a pale smile. “There’s no such thing as magic. Let the dead rest in peace. Don’t spread rumors.” Caleb shut up, looking chagrined. I lowered my eyes to hide the storm brewing within them. Three days ago, I was bound to the [Predator System]. The system told me that people around me were bound to the [Swap System]. Each of them has one chance to swap something of mine with theirs, at no cost to themselves. Grades were just the start. Soon, someone would swap my looks, my family, even my lifespan. I had to find all the Swappers before the SATs. Otherwise, everything valuable I possessed would be stolen. Eventually, even my limbs and eyes would be taken, leaving me a “human swine”—a torso kept alive in agony. However, any Swapper I correctly identified would die instantly. Whatever they stole would return to me within two business days. This was a game of life and death. At first, I was skeptical. Until the mock exam scores came out. I, who always ranked first, was at the bottom. And Sarah, who always failed, was number one. So, I didn’t hesitate. I opened the system interface. [Swapper Identity Confirmed: Sarah Jones.] [She stole your grades.] Not long after, I heard the news of Sarah’s death. From this, I confirmed two things. Chapter 2 First, the system and the floating text weren’t lying. Swappers were lurking around me, and I had to fight to the death. Second, the Swappers didn’t know I had the Predator System. Otherwise, Sarah wouldn’t have been so blatant about stealing my grades. They were in the light; I was in the dark. I had the advantage. 02 Two days after Sarah died, our homeroom teacher made an announcement. “There was a glitch in the grading system. Sarah Jones’s and Liam’s scores were swapped in the database. Liam is actually the top scorer for this exam.” The teacher looked at me warmly. “Liam, you’ve been number one all year. Keep this up, and you might be the state valedictorian.” I smiled slightly. The system was precise. Two business days, right on time. A few days later. While washing my face in the morning, I noticed several pimples. The familiar text floated by. [Another Swapper made a move. This time, they swapped the male lead’s looks.] [This Swapper is smart. He didn’t swap everything at once. He’s doing it gradually.] [After all, the male lead is the school heartthrob. Since *** is so plain, a full swap would be too obvious.] [The male lead probably just thinks he’s stressed and breaking out. He won’t notice a thing.] [And to think the male lead has always been so nice to him. You really can’t trust anyone.] I see. Without the chat log, I wouldn’t have noticed so soon. Although the name was censored, I gleaned three clues. The Swapper is an average-looking guy. The Swapper has a three-syllable name. The Swapper is close to me. Three names popped into my head. My desk mate, Caleb Miller. My roommate, Ethan Davis. My neighbor, Zach Wilson. After observing them, I locked onto Caleb. Usually a bit chubby, he had suddenly slimmed down recently. His face looked much clearer. [Swapper Identity Confirmed: Caleb Miller.] [He stole a portion of your appearance.] The next second, a piercing alarm shrieked in my brain. [WARNING! WARNING!] [Host failed to identify the true Swapper!] [You have one more chance. Please find the real thief of your looks within three days.] [If you fail again, you will receive a penalty: Looks permanently -50, SAT Score permanently -100.] [Please take this game seriously!] Chapter 3 03 I paused. This Swapper was cunning. Perhaps Sarah’s death served as a warning to the others. They were no longer reckless. They were hiding. The hunt just got harder. Back in the dorm, I quietly observed my roommate, Ethan. Was it my imagination, or was his skin glowing? Ethan was humming a tune. “Ethan, did you change your face wash? You look… radiant.” I probed casually. “Really? You think so?” Ethan beamed. “It’s this new brand I saw on TikTok. It was cheap, so I tried it. I’ll send you the link!” He sent it immediately, rambling about skincare routines. I laughed along, then pulled out my phone and texted my neighbor, Zach. “Hey bro, you off tomorrow? Wanna go shopping for clothes?” Zach replied quickly: “Nah, I’m gonna study at home. SATs are in a month, I’m too stressed to go out.” The next day, I knocked on Zach’s door with a crepe cake. “Picked this up on my way back.” I held up the cake and slipped inside. “Nice! You’re a lifesaver!” Zach took the cake happily. I asked casually, “Bro, have you been losing weight? You look thinner.” “No way,” Zach said naturally. “I’ve been stress-eating kebabs every night. Maybe the exam pressure is making me look gaunt.” He stepped on the scale in the living room. “See? Haven’t lost a pound. Got excited for nothing.” We chatted for a bit before I left. Back home, I summoned the system. [Swapper Identity Confirmed: Zach Wilson.] [He stole a portion of your appearance.] 04 Zach hadn’t lost weight, nor was his skin glowing. He looked normal. But I remembered he had oily skin. If he ate greasy food or sweets, he’d break out instantly. Yet, his face was clear. Chapter 4 Obviously, those pimples had been transferred to my face. [Congratulations! You have identified the second Swapper!] [Swappers identified: 2] [Countdown to SATs: 36 days] Outside, I heard the frantic screams of Zach’s parents. “Zach! What’s wrong?! Don’t scare us!” “Call 911! Hurry!” I froze. I knew identifying them meant death. But Zach… he died over some pimples. Was it worth it? Sensing my hesitation, the system spoke coldly: [The moment he chose to target you and steal your looks, he ceased to be your friend.] [Mercy to the enemy leads to you becoming a ‘Human Swine’.] [Take the game seriously.] I shook my head. [It’s not mercy. I just don’t understand why. Is being good-looking that important?] Important enough to stab your best friend in the back? Or maybe… I was the only one who thought we were friends. Now that he was dead, no one would know what he was thinking. But suddenly, everyone around me felt like they were wearing masks. What were they hiding behind those friendly smiles? Over the next week, I caught two more Swappers. One stole my scholarship nomination. Another stole my popularity. I caught them quickly. The system was excited: [Swapper abilities are only valid before the SATs.] [Keep it up, Host! Once the exams are over, they can’t touch you!] [I am applying for a reward mechanism. For every Swapper caught, +10 points to your SAT score!] Things were looking up. Even the chat comments said I might change the tragic ending of the original story. Until that day. I was walking down the street. A truck lost control and barreled toward me. When I woke up, I heard the word “amputation” from outside the hospital room. [WARNING! WARNING!] [Host’s Luck stat has dropped to ZERO!] [Find the Swapper who stole your Luck within 24 hours!] [Failure will result in forced amputation of both legs!]

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My brother was diagnosed with a tumor. The doctor said if he’d come in a day later, he’d be dead. The surgery was $200,000. After three days of calling everyone he knew, my father had only managed to borrow $80,000. I went to my uncle’s house. He was in the living room counting cash from a recent property buyout—eight million dollars, stacked high on his coffee table. The moment I explained why I was there, my aunt slammed the door in my face. “Lend you money? In your dreams! Do you think our money grows on trees?” From inside, my uncle yelled, “Tell her to give up! They won’t get a single cent from us!” I stayed outside his door all night. By morning, I had knelt until my knees were bruised black and blue. In the end, it was my colleagues who crowdfunded the money for the surgery. Ten days later, at my cousin’s wedding, the hotel kitchen exploded. The bride was permanently disfigured. My uncle came to me, sobbing, begging me to pull some strings and find an expert. “We’re family! You have to help us!” I clutched my phone, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Family? Are you sure about that?” 1 The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering against the hospital’s ice-cold linoleum floor. I didn’t bother to pick it up. My brother, Paul, had something growing in his brain. The doctor had just told me the tumor had ruptured. It was pressing on a critical nerve. Another day, and he would have been gone. Surgery was the only option, and it had to happen now. The cost: two hundred thousand dollars. My father, Daniel, was crumpled in a corner at the end of the hallway like a discarded piece of newspaper. His graying hair was a mess, and the cigarette in his hand had burned out. A small graveyard of cigarette butts lay at his feet. “Nina,” he rasped, looking up at me. His bloodshot eyes were clouded with tears. “The money… there’s not enough.” He opened a black plastic bag and showed me the contents. It was filled with crumpled bills—tens, twenties, fifties, with a few hundreds on top. The money was worn and carried the faint smells of sweat, smoke, and dirt. “I spent three days calling everyone. The guys at the factory, relatives back home, anyone who would listen.” He held up eight fingers, then let his hand fall limply to his side. “Eighty thousand. That’s all I could get.” Eighty thousand. We were still one hundred and twenty thousand short. The red light above the operating room door glared at me like the eye of a demon. A nurse bustled out. “Family of Paul Brooke, when will the fee be paid? If it’s not settled soon, we’ll have to stop his medication.” A shiver shot through me, my blood turning to ice. I rushed to the observation window and peered inside at my brother. His face was ghostly pale, his lips colorless. Tubes snaked from his body, and the lines on the monitor beside him beat with a faint, fragile rhythm. He was only twenty-eight. He’d never been married, had never really had a chance to see the world. “Nina,” my dad said, pulling himself up along the wall. He stumbled over to me, his lips trembling. “Maybe… maybe we should go see your uncle?” My uncle, Harold. My father’s own brother. The name was a needle piercing my heart. “I heard,” my dad continued, his voice barely a whisper, “that they got a huge payout for their old property. Eight million dollars.” Eight million. A number so large I couldn’t even picture it. My uncle’s cruel face and his wife’s acidic stare flashed in my mind. They had looked down on our family my entire life. My dad was a simple man, my mom’s health was poor, and we were always struggling. Every visit to their house felt like we were begging for scraps. “Dad, they won’t lend it to us,” I said, my voice hoarse. “We have to try, Nina! We have to! It’s your brother’s life on the line!” He grabbed my arm, his nails digging into my skin. “I’m begging you. Please.” For my brother’s life. Those five words shattered what was left of my pride and hesitation. I nodded. Half an hour later, my dad’s battered old electric scooter brought us to the gates of a lavish, gated community. The security guard stopped us, his eyes dripping with disdain. After my father bowed and scraped his way through an explanation, the guard grudgingly let us pass. My uncle lived in a ground-floor home with a large yard. We could hear the clatter of poker chips and raucous laughter from the driveway. “Full house! Pay up, pay up!” That was my aunt Brenda’s voice. “Wow, Harold, what a winning streak! With Lily’s wedding next week, it’s like good fortune is raining down on you!” a man’s voice flattered. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. The music and laughter paused. The door creaked open, and my aunt Brenda peered out. She wore a silk pajama set, her hair in perfect curls. The moment she saw us, the smile vanished from her face, replaced by a look of pure disgust, as if she were staring at a pile of garbage. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” she sneered, leaning against the doorframe and sizing us up. My dad forced a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “Brenda, we… we need to talk to Harold about something.” Brenda didn’t invite us in. She just opened the door a little wider. Through the gap, I saw it. Under a massive crystal chandelier, on a mahogany coffee table, sat stacks of hundred-dollar bills. A mountain of red-banded cash. The eight million dollars. The sight of it was blinding. Swallowing my humiliation, I spoke, my voice trembling. “Aunt Brenda, my brother… Paul is sick. He needs an emergency surgery, it costs two hundred thousand dollars. We were hoping… we could borrow some money to tide us over.” Brenda’s eyebrows shot up as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Before she could speak, my uncle Harold shouted impatiently from the other room, “Who is it? What’s taking so long?” “Who do you think?” Brenda yelled back, her voice dripping with scorn. “It’s your deadbeat brother and his daughter. They’re here to borrow money.” I saw Harold get up from the poker table. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and in his hand, he held a small bowl of plump, dark cherries. The expensive kind, hundreds of dollars a pound. He sauntered to the door, spat out a pit, and barely bothered to look at us. “Borrow money?” he scoffed. “How much?” My dad rushed to answer. “Two hundred thousand! Harold, I’m begging you, please, save Paul’s life!” Harold finally lifted his gaze to meet ours. He looked at us like we were two flies buzzing in his ear. “Two hundred thousand? Has your family gone completely insane?” Before he could say more, my aunt Brenda stepped forward and slammed the heavy oak door shut, the wood nearly smashing into my nose. “Lend you money? In your wildest dreams! Do you think we have money growing on trees?” her shrill voice cut through the door, thick with undisguised malice. “If he’s sick, he should just die! Don’t come here and spread your bad luck all over our family!” My dad’s face went white. I clenched my fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms I thought I might draw blood. From inside, Harold’s voice boomed, louder now, full of irritation and venom. “Tell her to give up! They won’t get a single cent from us! Tell them to get lost, right now! They’re an eyesore, and they’ll bring bad luck to my daughter’s wedding!” The door sealed us off from their world, and with it, sealed off my brother’s only path to survival. My dad swayed, as if all the strength had been sucked out of him. 2 “Harold! Open the door! Harold!” My dad started pounding on the cold steel door like a madman, the blows echoing in the quiet evening. “I’ll kneel! I’ll beg you on my hands and knees! Please, just save Paul!” And then he did it. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground before that closed door, bowing his head again and again, his forehead hitting the hard concrete with a sickening, hollow thud. “Dad! Get up!” My eyes burned as I rushed to pull him up. He shoved me away, tears streaming down his weathered face. “Nina, leave me be! As long as we can save your brother, my life means nothing!” Suddenly, the door cracked open. My uncle Harold’s face appeared in the gap. There was no pity in his eyes, only disgust and annoyance. He kicked out, not hard, but with a deliberate, humiliating slowness that landed on my father’s shoulder. “Are you going to get lost or not? Stop your damn wailing out here. It’s bad luck!” The kick sent my dad sprawling. A roar filled my ears, and all reason fled. I lunged forward, shielding my father with my body, and stared straight into Harold’s eyes. “He’s your own brother! Have you no soul?” “Soul?” Harold laughed as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He pointed a thumb back into the house, toward the pile of cash. “Did a soul get me all this? Let me make it clear for you. Every single penny of this money is for my daughter Lily’s wedding of the century. Forget two hundred thousand, I wouldn’t give you two dollars!” Behind him, Brenda emerged with a broom and started swinging it at us as if we were vermin. “Get out! You two paupers! Bad omens! Get out!” Dust from the bristles flew into my face. My dad tried to shield me, taking a hard smack from the broom handle across his back with a muffled grunt. They drove us out of the yard like stray dogs, and the gate slammed shut behind us with a final, decisive click of the lock. The sky darkened. The city lights began to twinkle to life, one by one, but not a single one could pierce the darkness in my heart. I helped my dad to his feet. He was still muttering, “How could this happen… how could this happen…” We didn’t leave. My dad insisted we wait, that maybe their hearts would soften overnight. So we stood there, outside that cold iron gate. Two lonely sentinels, guarding an impossible miracle. Later that night, it began to rain. The icy drops soaked through my clothes, but I didn’t feel the cold. I was just numb. My dad was shivering, his lips turning purple. I begged him to go home, but he refused. All I could do was let him lean against me. I stared at the brightly lit house, the sounds of their laughter echoing like a cruel joke in my head. Slowly, I slid down the wall until I was sitting. Then, I straightened my spine and knelt on the wet, puddled ground. My father knelt for the bonds of blood and brotherhood. I knelt for the life of my brother, hanging by a thread. And so, father and daughter, we knelt outside my uncle’s house all through the night. The rain stopped at dawn. As the first light broke through the clouds, I realized I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. They were numb and shot through with a pain like a thousand needles. I looked down. My pants were soaked, clinging to my skin. At the knees, two horrifying patches of deep purple had bloomed through the fabric. With a creak, the gate opened. A flicker of hope ignited in my chest as I looked up. But it wasn’t my uncle, and it wasn’t my aunt. It was my cousin, Lily. She was dressed to the nines, a new designer bag looped over her arm. She froze when she saw us kneeling there, then her face twisted into an expression of utter disgust. She didn’t approach. She stood at a distance, pulled out her phone, and I heard the distinct click of the camera shutter. Then came the soft tapping of her fingers on the screen. A few seconds later, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from a distant relative, who had just shared Lily’s new post. The picture was of me and my dad, kneeling pathetically at her gate. The caption read: Some poor relatives are so shameless when they want money. Blocking our gate first thing in the morning. So gross! Anyway, off to get my nails done for my fabulous wedding! At that moment, my well of tears finally ran dry. I used the wall to haul myself to my feet. Every movement sent a jolt of agony through my knees. I watched Lily’s retreating back, the sway of her hips and the click of her heels, and the despair in my eyes slowly hardened into ice. I swore to myself, from this day forward, Nina Brooke would never beg anyone for anything ever again. Just then, my phone began to vibrate violently in my pocket. It was the hospital. I answered, and a nurse’s cold, clinical voice came through the line, sounding like a final judgment. “Is this the family of Paul Brooke? If you do not pay the surgical fee, we will be forced to cease all treatment as per regulations. This is your final notice. You have until 10 AM today.” The line went dead, and the world fell silent. 3 I dragged my broken body and my hollowed-out father back to the hospital. The hallway reeked of antiseptic, a smell that was cold and hopeless. At the nurses’ station, the nurse saw me, shook her head, and pointed at the billing statement. “Ma’am, you’re running out of time.” I stared at the paper, feeling the last of my strength drain away. Where else could I get the money? Sell a kidney? Take out a loan from a shark? As my mind went blank, the head of my department, Dr. Adler, appeared, walking quickly toward me with several of my colleagues. “Nina, what’s going on? You haven’t been answering your phone,” Dr. Adler said, his brow furrowed. He was in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, but his eyes were always sharp. I lowered my head, my voice a broken whisper. “Dr. Adler, I…” I couldn’t get the words out. “I heard about your brother.” He glanced at me, then turned to the colleague beside him. “Is everyone notified?” “Yes, sir. Everyone in the department, and even a few of the families of patients Dr. Brooke has treated…” Before he could finish, my phone chimed. I pulled it out instinctively. It was a bank transfer notification. [Chase Bank: A direct deposit of $5,000.00 has been made to your checking account ending in XXXX.] I froze. Then, the chimes started coming one after another, a frantic, beautiful symphony. [Venmo: You’ve received $2,000.00.] [Zelle: You’ve received $800.00.] [Bank of America: A direct deposit of $10,000.00 has been made to your checking account.] The notifications poured in, a torrent of names—some were my colleagues, others were strangers. My hands began to shake. I looked up at Dr. Adler and the others. They were all smiling at me, their eyes full of encouragement. “Sir, this…” “I posted about your situation in our department’s group chat,” Dr. Adler said, his voice quiet but firm. “Nina, you’re a good doctor. You have a bright future. We’re not going to stand by and watch you get crushed by this.” The tears I had held back for so long finally broke free, fat drops splashing onto my phone screen, blurring the ever-climbing numbers. Less than half an hour later, my phone vibrated again. It was a message from the head nurse. She had sent a screenshot of the hospital’s internal employee relief fund page. The fundraiser had been started by Dr. Adler. Target Goal: $120,000. Current Progress: 100% Funded. In less than three hours, the impossible sum had been raised. I clutched my phone, sank to the floor, and buried my face in my knees, sobbing. These weren’t tears of despair. They were tears of rebirth. The surgical fee was paid immediately. The operation was a success. When the lead surgeon walked out of the OR, pulled off his mask, and said, “The patient is out of danger,” my father collapsed onto the floor in a heap. I leaned against the wall and let out a long, shuddering breath, feeling like I could finally breathe again. The next day, I went to see Paul in the ICU. He was still unconscious, but his vitals were stable. Dr. Adler came by on his rounds. After checking on my brother, he walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Nina, take some time to pull yourself together. You have real talent. Don’t waste it.” He looked at me, his eyes full of expectation. “There’s a national symposium on burn science in the capital next week. I want you to prepare a presentation. You’ll be representing me.” I was stunned. A conference of that caliber was something Dr. Adler always attended himself. Only the most senior attending physicians were ever invited to join him. “Dr. Adler, I…” “I trust you,” he interrupted. “Seize this opportunity. Learn everything you can. Don’t let anyone look down on you.” I nodded fiercely, a warm current spreading through my chest. It was then that I fully grasped it. My mentor, Dr. Adler, wasn’t just a respected figure in our city—he was one of the foremost experts in his field in the entire country. That evening, with my dad watching over Paul at the hospital, I went back to my apartment to grab a few things. My phone lit up. An electronic invitation from an unknown number. It was a gaudy, red-and-gold invitation with a picture of my cousin Lily and her fiancé. She was smiling, her expression arrogant. The host was my uncle, Harold. He actually had the gall to invite us to his daughter’s wedding. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to parade his eight million dollars in front of all his poor relatives, to show off his daughter’s “wedding of the century.” I let out a cold laugh and was about to block the number. But then, a thought stopped me. Why not go? They had humiliated my father, ground his dignity into the dust. If I didn’t push back, I would choke on that bitterness for the rest of my life. I was going. I wanted them to see that we hadn’t been broken. My brother was alive. And I, Nina Brooke, was back on my feet. I walked to the mirror and looked at my reflection. The woman staring back was thin, her eyes shadowed and bloodshot. But deep within those eyes, the fragile, pleading weakness was gone. In its place was a cold, hard, and determined light. 4 The wedding was held at the city’s most luxurious six-star hotel. To show off, my uncle had booked the entire grand ballroom. The entrance was lined with a fleet of luxury cars—a Rolls-Royce, a Bentley, a Maybach. It looked more like an auto show than a wedding. Our family of three arrived on my dad’s old electric scooter, a stark contrast to our surroundings. The greeters at the door didn’t even try to hide their disdain. Inside the ballroom, a man in a tuxedo hurried over, a plastic smile plastered on his face. “And which side of the family are you with?” My dad gave our names. The man scanned his list for a long moment before finding us tucked away in a corner. His smile faded. He pointed to a small, isolated table. “You three can sit over there.” It was a spare table, shoved right next to the fire exit, a world away from the main seating area. It was like an island for exiles. There were no flowers, no fine china, not even a proper centerpiece. My dad’s face flushed a deep red. He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. My mom tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter where we sit.” I helped them to their seats, my heart a block of ice. The ceremony began. My uncle Harold, beaming, strode onto the stage. He was wearing an expensive custom-tailored suit and holding a microphone, his voice echoing through the hall. “Thank you, to all our friends, family, and esteemed guests, for taking the time out of your busy schedules to attend my daughter Lily’s wedding!” He paused for dramatic effect, then raised his voice. “A lot of people say old Harold got lucky, made a little money from a property deal. Well, I’ll tell you all today—it was eight million dollars! Not much, just a little pocket money for my daughter! Her wedding dress today? Eighty-eight thousand! Her jewelry? One hundred and twenty thousand! The cars outside? That’s over thirty grand a day just to rent!” The crowd responded with a chorus of feigned gasps and sycophantic applause. Harold reveled in it, waving his hand magnanimously. “So please, everyone, eat and drink to your heart’s content! No gifts necessary! I, Harold Brooke, can certainly afford it!” I watched him preening on stage, a wave of nausea washing over me. Soon, the bride, Lily, appeared in her diamond-encrusted gown, her arm linked with the groom’s. She began making her rounds, her face a mask of smug satisfaction. Like a peacock fanning its tail, she deliberately stopped near our table and said loudly to her friends, “Oh, look, even my poor relatives managed to show up.” A few of the garishly dressed women with her giggled into their hands. Lily walked over to our table and looked down at me, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Cousin, long time no see. I heard your brother was on death’s door? Did you even bring a gift today?” She spoke just loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear. Instantly, all eyes were on us, hungry for drama. My dad began to tremble. He reached into his pocket and shakily pulled out a small envelope. It was crumpled from being clutched in his hand for so long. “Lily, congratulations. This is… this is a small token from our family.” The envelope was thin. Inside was the two hundred dollars my mother had insisted we give. “We have to observe the proper etiquette,” she’d said. Lily didn’t even glance at it. She pinched the envelope between two fingers, her nails glittering, as if she were holding something foul. Then, she turned and whistled at a small, fluffy dog that was chewing on a bone nearby. “Waffles, fetch!” With a flick of her wrist, the envelope containing my parents’ dignity fluttered through the air and landed near the dog’s mouth. The dog sniffed it, then promptly tore it to shreds. A wave of laughter erupted from the nearby tables. My mother’s face went sheet-white. My dad, shaking with rage, shot to his feet. I placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook my head. I looked at Lily’s triumphant face, feeling no anger, no urge to argue. I just watched her, as if she were a clown in a cheap circus. Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Dr. Adler. I stepped away to a quiet corner to answer. “Nina,” Dr. Adler’s voice was calm and steady. “You’re at the wedding at the Grand Majestic Hotel, right?”

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