Category: English

Ten o’clock at night. On the dot. A delivery guy in a baseball cap knocked on the door of apartment 502. “Food delivery!” We were all roommates in a three-bedroom apartment. Ethan, the one we called Specs, opened the door. He had his headphones on, deep in some online game, and waved a dismissive hand. “Not mine.” Without another word, the delivery guy pulled out a knife and slashed his throat. Then, still holding the takeout bag, he pushed open the door to the next room. “Excuse me, did you order food?” Mark, the gym instructor who lived in that room, looked up, startled. “No, who are you—?” The delivery guy didn’t give him a chance to finish. The knife plunged straight into his heart. I had just finished my shower. The moment I opened the bathroom door, I saw the carnage. The floor was slick with blood. And the delivery guy was standing there, knife in hand. “It wasn’t them. So, was it you?” My mind went blank with terror. I shook my head, a reflex. “Not me, I don’t know anything…” I never finished the sentence. He hacked me to death in a flurry of strikes. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Five minutes before I was murdered. I burst out of the bathroom, my heart hammering against my ribs, and my eyes locked with the equally terrified gazes of my two roommates. I knew, without a doubt, we had all come back. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. A low, muffled male voice came from the other side. “Food delivery?” … The three of us stared at each other, our faces masks of pure, unadulterated fear and disbelief. Ethan was the first to react, snatching his phone to call the cops. But Mark clamped a hand over his. “With what evidence? What are we going to tell them?” “That we had a premonition someone was about to murder us?” The living room was spotless. No bodies, no blood. Not even a shadow of the delivery guy. Calling the police now would just get us flagged for a prank call. “The key is to figure out who ordered the food,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level. “He’s obviously after the person who placed the order.” Ethan immediately pulled up his delivery app and showed us his phone. “I haven’t ordered anything all week!” Mark took out his phone, displaying his own order history. “I’m on a strict meal plan. I cook everything myself.” I quickly opened my app, too. The most recent order was from three days ago—breakfast. I offered a guess. “Maybe it was a neighbor? Maybe they put in the wrong address?” We lived in an old building, just two apartments per floor. Our neighbors were an elderly couple. Mark shook his head. “Before I died last time, I saw the order sticker on the bag. The address was definitely 502.” The three of us began to eye each other. The atmosphere grew tense. Was one of us lying? “I swear, I didn’t order anything.” To prove my innocence, I handed my phone to them. “You can check. My payment history is all there.” Ethan and Mark swapped phones, checking each other’s records. There were no recent food delivery charges for any of us. “Then who could it be?” Ethan ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Suddenly, I thought of someone. Just as I was about to pull out my phone to make a call, we heard our landlady’s cheerful voice from the hallway. “Leo? Mark? Ethan? Are you boys home?” She always came by on the fifth of the month to collect rent. Today was the fifth, a weekday, which was why she was here so late. The color drained from our faces. We all held our breath. Then, that same muffled voice spoke again. “Excuse me, did you order the food?” Our landlady, Mrs. Gable, paused, turning around. “A delivery? No, that wasn’t me.” The words had barely left her mouth when the delivery guy raised his knife and swung it at the back of her neck. A gut-wrenching scream tore through the hallway as Mrs. Gable crumpled to the floor. We were frozen, shaking uncontrollably. Mrs. Gable had always been kind to us. She knew we were recent grads with little money, so she kept the rent low and often brought us homemade dishes. My fingers trembled as I fumbled for my phone. It took me several tries to dial 911. “Hello… police…” Before I could say more, there was a click. The lock on our door turned. The delivery guy pushed the door open and gave me a grotesque smile. “What do you think you’re doing?” Every hair on my body stood on end. Mrs. Gable, miraculously, struggled to her feet. She latched onto his leg, using her last ounce of strength to yell, “Run…!” The delivery guy, annoyed, stabbed her twice more, shaking her body off his leg. Then, knife in hand, he started walking toward us, one step at a time. Mark tried to rush him, to fight back, but he was cut down with a single, brutal stab. In the next instant, a searing pain exploded in my chest as the cold blade pierced through me. I burst out of the bathroom again. At the exact same moment, Mark burst out of his room. Ethan’s voice was choked with sobs. “It… it happened again?” “This is the second time,” Mark said, his brow furrowed, his expression grim. “We have to find a way out of this,” I gasped, collapsing onto the sofa. “We can’t let him kill us again.” We fell into a heavy silence, each of us replaying the two deaths, searching for a pattern. The delivery guy’s target was clearly the person who ordered the food. We were just collateral damage because we weren’t who he was looking for. But who was he looking for? “And another thing—he’s good,” Mark said suddenly. “I graduated with a degree in sports science, I’m in the gym every day, but I was no match for him. His movements are professional. Like he’s been trained.” Just then, the doorbell rang. That terrifying voice echoed through the door once more. “Food delivery?” I glanced at my watch. Mrs. Gable would be arriving in two minutes. “Quick, call her! Call Mrs. Gable!” Ethan’s fingers flew across his phone screen. “Hey, Mrs. Gable? It’s Ethan. Listen, all three of us have come down with a bad cold. We don’t want to get you sick. Could you maybe come by another day?” At the same time, I dialed the number I hadn’t been able to call last time. It was answered after two rings. “Chloe?” I asked, my voice tight with urgency. “Did you order food for me?” I could hear her smile on the other end. “You found out! It was a surprise to thank you for helping with those reports today. How did you know?” We found her. The three of us exchanged a look of relief. “Chloe, what’s your connection to the delivery guy?” I pressed. “Why is he so desperate to find you?” She paused, her tone shifting to confusion. “The delivery guy? I just placed the order a minute ago; the app hasn’t even assigned a driver yet.” “Leo, is everything okay?” It wasn’t her. Time was running out. I didn’t have a moment to explain. I hung up. “Oh no!” Ethan suddenly cried out. “Mrs. Gable replied!” He played the voice message. Her warm voice filled the room. “All three of you are sick? You must not have eaten, then. I just made a big pot of stew. I’ll bring some up for you boys. I’m already on the fifth floor.” Our faces went deathly pale. We were too late. Ding! The elevator doors opened. Mrs. Gable’s voice followed. “Oh, hello, young man. Are you here with a delivery?” Then came the familiar, muffled male voice. “Excuse me, are you the one who ordered the food?” We scrambled to the peephole. Mrs. Gable was standing right by the elevator, face-to-face with the delivery guy. This was exactly how she had died last time. We had hidden behind the door like cowards, watching as she died trying to save us. This time, I couldn’t let that happen. “Open the door,” I said, my voice firm. Ethan and Mark looked at me, stunned for a second, then nodded in agreement. Mark sprinted to the kitchen and came back with a fruit knife. Ethan grabbed a heavy mop handle. I yanked the door open. “Mrs. Gable, get in here! Quick!” Before she could process what was happening, Ethan had pulled her inside. Mark immediately tried to slam the door shut. But just as it was about to close, the delivery guy wedged his knee in the gap, forcing it open. He stepped inside, his eyes under the brim of his baseball cap scanning the four of us. “Who ordered the food?” This time, I stepped in front of Mark and Ethan. “I did. What do you want?” The delivery guy’s gaze settled on me. He didn’t immediately kill me. I had gambled correctly. He held out the takeout bag. “Valuable item. I need you to confirm it’s undamaged before I can leave.” I hesitated, then took the bag. It was impossibly light, weighing almost nothing. I unzipped it. And froze. Inside, there was nothing but a single, crumpled piece of paper. Before I could even read what was on it, he raised his knife and plunged it into my chest. As my consciousness faded, I heard him snarl, “Liar! It wasn’t you at all!” The third time I burst out of the bathroom, I collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air. Ethan and Mark stumbled out of their rooms a moment later, their faces even more haggard than before. “After he… after he killed you, he killed us all again.” Ethan’s voice was cracking. “Leo, you were holding the bag. What was in it? Why did you look so shocked?” Mark frowned. “It was empty. Then why did he insist you confirm its contents?” “It wasn’t empty,” I said, trying to steady myself, my mind a chaotic mess. “There was a note.” “A note? What did it say?” they asked in unison. I shook my head. “I didn’t get a chance to read it.” “Wait a minute,” Ethan said suddenly. “The first time, he asked who ordered the food, then killed all three of us. The second time, he didn’t even ask, he just killed us. The third time, even after you said you ordered it, he still killed us all…” “What if… what if he isn’t here to deliver food at all?” “What if he’s just here to kill us?” A chill went down my spine. “But why? None of us even know him.” Mark considered this. “Maybe he’s a hitman. I told you before, he’s had professional training.” I shook my head. “But who would go to all this trouble to kill us? There has to be a motive.” We fell silent again, racking our brains, trying to recall every detail from each loop. Then I remembered the note in the empty bag. Even though I hadn’t read it, an answer was beginning to form in my mind—an answer so bizarre I had to test it myself. I stood up. “This time, we can’t just wait for him to kill us.” “I’m going to confront him. I’m going to find out what he really wants.” Ethan grabbed my arm. “No, Leo, that’s insane! He has a knife!” “We’ll all go,” Mark added. “The three of us together might stand a chance.” “It’s useless,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s too skilled. You saw what happened last time, Mark. We’re no match for him.” I glanced at my watch. The doorbell would ring in one minute. “You two hide in your rooms. Don’t come out,” I instructed. “If something happens to me, you figure out another way.” They started to protest, but the doorbell cut them off. That muffled voice, again. “Food delivery?” I squared my shoulders, opened the door, slipped out, and pulled it shut behind me. The delivery guy stood there, cap pulled low, holding the same takeout bag. “I ordered it,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “Now what do you really want? The bag is empty, so what’s written on that note?” He seemed taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected me to be so direct. He said something strange. “You can’t be…” Then he lunged, the knife aimed at my chest. I was ready. I sidestepped the attack, grabbed the emergency wrench from the fire hose cabinet in the hall, and swung it hard at his wrist. The knife clattered to the floor. He recoiled in pain. I seized the opportunity, tackling him and pinning him against the wall with the wrench at his throat. “Talk! Why are you trying to kill us?” Just then, I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Walter, the new head of building security, appeared, stun baton in hand. A minute earlier, I had called security and asked him to come up. Walter was a retired martial arts instructor. With him here, we were safe. “Leo? What’s going on?” Walter looked alarmed. “I got your call and came right up. You got a burglar?” “Walter, he’s a murderer! Help me, call the police!” Relief washed over me, and my tense muscles began to relax. Walter immediately pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen. “Okay, okay, take it easy, I’m calling 911 right now…” But the next second, he jabbed the stun baton… right into me. An agonizing jolt shot through my body. My vision went black, and I collapsed. The delivery guy rubbed his wrist and slowly picked up his knife from the floor. “You… you know each other?” I stared at them in disbelief, blood from the back of my head trickling down my cheek. Just as the delivery guy’s knife was about to plunge into my chest, the apartment door flew open. Ethan and Mark charged out. Mark was holding a metal pipe, and he swung it with all his might, connecting with the delivery guy’s back. The man grunted in pain and turned to face him. “Leo, go!” Mark shouted, trying to hold him off. Ethan threw himself at Walter’s legs. “Leo, run! Don’t worry about us!” The delivery guy stabbed Mark in the shoulder, but Mark just gritted his teeth and held on. I watched, helpless, as Walter pinned Ethan against the wall, the stun baton crackling against his body. I watched as the delivery guy stabbed Mark again and again, his blood splattering across the white hallway walls. We were just roommates. We kept to ourselves, busy with our own lives. I never would have imagined that, in a life-or-death moment, they would lay down their lives to save me. The elevator doors chimed open. My escape was right there. But if I ran, the loop would end. They would stay dead. For real. Without a second thought, I scrambled up and threw myself in front of Mark, grappling with the delivery guy. His baseball cap was knocked off, revealing his face. I froze. I knew that face.

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The SATs and the Comic-Con fell on the same day. After finishing the English section, the class queen put on a revealing cosplay outfit, crying and begging to go to the convention to become an “Anime Goddess.” My childhood friend, the class president, not only personally escorted her but also rallied our classmates to go cheer her on. Seeing the whole class respond to his call, I worried everyone would miss the Math exam in the afternoon. I pleaded with them until they finally stayed. The class queen, her Comic-Con dreams shattered, cried her eyes out. My childhood friend cursed me out: “You vicious, clingy girl, I will never like you!” Before the exam scores were released, the class queen dragged me into an alley and hacked me over a dozen times with a machete. My intestines spilled onto the ground. “Since you won’t let me be a star through Comic-Con, I’ll just have to borrow your life.” Before I died, I found out. The class queen’s scores weren’t even good enough for community college. My childhood friend, for her sake, had bound me to a “Score Swap System.” As long as I died, the class queen could take my scores and happily go to Harvard. My parents, seeing my corpse, had a mental breakdown, ran into traffic, and were hit by a car. My classmates even gave false testimony, saying the class queen was with them the day I died. I opened my eyes again. I saw the class queen posing provocatively. I walked up and ripped her short skirt. “Show a little more cheek, and you’ll definitely be the brightest goddess at Comic-Con!” 1 The next second, a slap from my childhood friend, Tyler, landed hard on my face. “Mia, you’re disgusting! Just to stop Bella from going to Comic-Con, you deliberately tore her skirt!” The burning pain made my eyes sting. I really was reborn. It wasn’t a dream. Tyler glared at me furiously. “You’re always jealous of how close Bella and I are, making things difficult for her. And on such an important day, you’re sabotage her!” Classmates chimed in: “Mia, don’t think Tyler will like you for this. He’ll just think you’re a cheap, clingy girl!” “Bella prepared so long for Comic-Con, and you ruined it!” Their malicious attacks made me grind my back teeth. In my past life, I told them the round trip to the convention center was two hours. If they went, they would definitely miss the Math exam in the afternoon. I begged for an hour, my voice hoarse, until I finally persuaded them to stay. But even then, before entering the exam hall, my classmates were cursing me: “You bitch, you made Bella so sad. If she does poorly on the exam, it’s all your fault!” Since you all love Bella, the manipulative exhibitionist, so much. Then go with her to community college! I covered my face and shut my mouth, coldly watching Tyler incite everyone: “The more Mia acts like this, the more we have to help Bella. We can’t let Mia win.” Bella collapsed into Tyler’s arms, looking aggrieved: “Since Mia doesn’t agree, I won’t trouble you and the classmates. I’ll figure something out myself…” Bella reeked of that fragile, innocent “pick-me” energy, completely different from the venomous woman who stabbed me to death in my past life. Resisting the urge to slap her, I lowered my head and sniffled dramatically: “You misunderstood me. I was worried Bella’s skirt was too long and she’d be outshone by others at Comic-Con. That’s why I helped shorten it.” 2 “Tyler, you can hit me or scold me, but you can’t twist my intentions…” Seeing my pitiful tone and the red handprint on my face, the classmates paused, their attitudes softening: “Honestly, the mini-skirt does look better. Maybe Mia really was thinking of Bella.” “Maybe we misunderstood. Mia is the discipline committee member, she loves bossing people around, but thinking back, she’s always looking out for the class.” Tyler looked at me suspiciously: “Mia, are you really that kind?” Tyler and I grew up together. He used to be the person I trusted and relied on most. Whether my parents scolded me or someone bullied me, he would always stand up for me first. But ever since Bella transferred here and became the class queen, wearing short skirts to ask Tyler for homework help every day, the person Tyler wanted to protect was no longer me. I swallowed the bitterness and pretended to be excited: “Of course. Once Bella gets famous at Comic-Con, we’ll be classmates with a rising star. It’s exciting just thinking about it.” Seeing me stop obstructing them, the classmates who were against me just moments ago started to hesitate: “But the Math exam starts at 3 PM. What if we go to Comic-Con and can’t make it back in time?” Tyler patted his chest, guaranteeing: “What are you afraid of? I’ve already asked my dad to arrange a chartered bus. Door-to-door service, absolutely won’t delay anyone’s exam.” “As the class president, would I screw you guys over?” With Tyler’s guarantee, plus Bella’s constant cute begging, the classmates dropped their doubts and excitedly squeezed onto the bus. I hid my secret joy and turned to leave. But Tyler grabbed my backpack: “Mia, you’re not going to snitch to the teacher, are you?” “I have to keep an eye on you. No chances for sabotage. You have to come with us to cheer for Bella.” Seeing this, Bella rushed forward: “If Mia doesn’t want to go, don’t force her. I don’t expect everyone to like me…” Seeing Bella wink at Tyler, I immediately understood her little calculation. Presumably, Bella had already hatched the idea of binding me to the Score Swap System, so she wanted me to prepare well for the afternoon exam and not be distracted. Thinking of how Bella profited from the disaster in my last life, I clenched my fists and voluntarily got on the bus: “Tyler is right. This is the time to show class unity. I must participate.” 3 Seeing me sit down on the bus, Tyler smiled with relief: “Mia, you’re becoming more sensible. Did you finally realize you’re not qualified to compete with Bella?” Tyler didn’t know I had other plans. As soon as we got off the bus, the classmates swarmed Bella into the convention center. Because Bella was dressed extremely revealingly, and surrounded by a crowd, she quickly attracted everyone’s attention. People held up phones and cameras, surrounding Bella. Bella smiled charmingly, striking various suggestive poses for the cameras. I stepped out of the crowd. Whenever I saw someone walking towards us, I grabbed them to promote her: “Our class queen Bella, even though she has the SATs today, her heart is with Comic-Con! She came specifically to give benefits to all you fans!” “Everyone is welcome to come take photos with Bella and promote this new Anime Goddess online!” Hearing that Bella was a student taking the SATs today, onlookers buzzed with discussion: “Not taking the exams seriously, running to Comic-Con to do soft-core porn. What a disgrace to the anime community!” “That skirt is so short you can see her butt cheeks. If I had a daughter like that, I’d strangle her on the spot.” Bella was oblivious, thinking she had really become an Anime Goddess. Little did she know, someone had already set up a phone, pointing it at her face and starting a livestream: “A student taking the SATs runs to Comic-Con to strip? Whose unlucky child is this? Parents, come collect her!” With such a sensational title, tens of thousands poured into the livestream instantly. “This kind of stripper couldn’t pass the SATs anyway. Community college is too good for her!” “Hey, don’t insult community colleges. We don’t accept trash like this.” Seeing more and more people gathering to criticize Bella, some classmates noticed something was wrong: “Why are so many people pointing at Bella and cursing?” I explained to them: “Those people cursing are just jealous of Bella’s beauty. Everyone says Bella is the brightest star at Comic-Con today. Someone even started a livestream for her.” “Now there are over 100,000 people in the stream. Bella is really going to be famous! She’s going to be a huge influencer!” Hearing my words, Bella shook her hips even more vigorously. She kept winking at the camera, deliberately exposing the cleavage swaying under her low-cut top. Meanwhile, Tyler sneakily left the venue. I had a bad feeling and quickly followed him with my phone. Not long after, Tyler slipped back from a corner of the venue. Two classmates grabbed him anxiously: “Tyler, quickly persuade Bella to go back with us, or we’ll miss the Math exam!” At the same time, the homeroom teacher called Tyler’s phone: “Tyler, as the class president, you took the whole class to mess around?” Tyler’s face changed: “Mia, you snitch! Did you tell the teacher?” The classmates didn’t have time to help him gang up on me. They dragged Bella, frantic to leave. “Tyler, at a time like this, does it matter who snitched?” “Look at the time! We have to go back for the exam!” Bella was reluctant, but seeing everyone so anxious, she didn’t dare make a sound. However, when we got back to the bus, the whole class was dumbfounded: “Why is the door locked? Where’s the driver? Where did the driver go?” 4 “Tyler, didn’t your family charter this bus? Do something!” Seeing the classmates crying with anxiety, Tyler looked fierce and suddenly grabbed my hair: “Mia, it’s all your fault! As the discipline committee member, you should have reminded everyone of the time instead of watching us miss the exam!” The anxious classmates angrily surrounded me: “Yeah, you usually love bossing people around. Why were you silent on such an important day?” “You’re just jealous that Bella got famous, so you deliberately made her miss the exam!” Bella cried again, tears falling like rain: “Mia, do you hate me that much? Won’t you be satisfied until you drive me to my death?” I struggled desperately with red eyes, finally escaping Tyler’s grip: “What’s the use of staring at me? The priority now is to find a way back to the exam hall!” Ignoring the barrage of insults, I took the initiative to call the police, blowing the matter up completely. By this time, some students had collapsed on the ground, eyes blank, mumbling that they were finished. The people who had been watching Bella’s livestream followed us out: “Look at them. These students gave up the SATs just to accompany this stripper to Comic-Con!” “Deserved! If I were their parents, I’d disown them immediately!” The more cynical comments there were, the more despairing the classmates became. They vented all their anger on me: “Mia, I hope your whole family dies a horrible death!” I suppressed the anger in my heart and said nothing. Finally, the police arrived with a dozen cars. Facing the curses of over a hundred thousand people on the livestream, the classmates finally rushed back to the exam hall. But what greeted them was the stern rejection of the security guards: “The exam started thirty minutes ago. You are not qualified to enter.” Hearing that exam candidates skipped the test for Comic-Con, the media swarmed in too. But the classmates couldn’t care less about the cameras. Their knees gave out, and they knelt, wailing: “We didn’t mean to be late. Please let me in…” “If I miss the exam, my parents will beat me to death!” The homeroom teacher and the principal also arrived. Seeing Bella still wearing the provocative cosplay outfit, the principal scolded her furiously: “What is the difference between you and a hooker? You’ve completely disgraced the school!” The classmates no longer cared about protecting Bella. They knelt at the principal’s feet one after another, kowtowing and begging: “Principal, please find a way for us to take a make-up exam…” The homeroom teacher was heartbroken, stomping his feet in anger: “On such an important day as the SATs, you ran off to Comic-Con to embarrass yourselves!” “This kind of deliberate refusal to take the exam means you are banned from the SATs for the next three years!” The teacher’s words made everyone twitch with anxiety, and some even fainted from despair. Seeing the accomplices who caused my miserable death in my past life reduced to this state, I felt an indescribable pleasure. None of the onlookers sympathized with them. It wasn’t until parents started arriving and asking what happened that someone angrily stood up: “It was Tyler! He said he chartered a bus and there would be no problem. He harmed us!” “No, I say it’s all Bella’s fault. On the day of the SATs, she insisted on going to Comic-Con!” “No… not me…” Bella shivered. Seeing everyone about to turn on Bella, Tyler charged at me with a ferocious face, grabbing my hair and slapping me again: “It’s all Mia’s fault! She must have sabotaged us, causing everyone to miss the exam!” He bared his teeth, looking murderous: “She’s had bad intentions ever since she tore Bella’s skirt!” Seeing this, Bella joined in kicking me while I was down: “Yes, if Mia had stopped us from the beginning, there wouldn’t have been a problem.” “Mia wanted me to miss the exam, so she encouraged me to go to Comic-Con, and ended up harming everyone!” I felt wronged and screamed my lungs out: “You’re talking nonsense! I missed the Math exam too! I’m a victim too!” Although the classmates were already crying their souls out, they didn’t blindly take sides this time. Instead, they spoke up for me. “Yeah, Mia didn’t take the exam either. She was projected to be the valedictorian. She suffered the most.” “If you hadn’t dragged Mia along, she might have told the teacher earlier, and the teacher could have stopped us in time…” I covered my face, seemingly crying, but actually laughing so hard my shoulders shook. They didn’t know. In my past life, because I was confident enough to get into Harvard or Yale, I rejected offers from top overseas universities before scores came out. This time, I played along and simply gave up on the Math exam so Tyler couldn’t bind me to the Score Swap System. While this group was wailing, I had already replied to an email from a top overseas university, accepting a highly prestigious offer. But Tyler was determined to pin the blame on me. Seeing everyone turn against him, he actually kicked me down and shouted hysterically: “As the discipline committee member, Mia could have reminded us to leave Comic-Con ages ago, but she kept quiet just to deliberately delay time!” “She is the culprit! Everyone should settle accounts with her!” Tyler’s face was dark, looking as vicious as Bella in my past life. His gaze seemed ready to disembowel me right there, making me the unlucky scapegoat. I endured the severe pain in my body and suddenly held up my phone: “I have evidence that proves Tyler harmed everyone!”

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“Sarah, your position has been eliminated.” The HR manager slid a folder across the table toward me. I stared at her, stunned. “Me? But I’m the lead on the Nexus Core system—” “Marcus made the decision,” she cut me off, her tone flat. “He said anyone can take over the project.” My mouth opened, but no words came out. She was already looking down at the next file on her desk. “You get three months’ severance. Sign here.” I looked at the text on the page. Eight years. I had given this company eight years of my life, and this is what it was worth. 1. I didn’t sign. The HR manager looked up, her eyes flashing with impatience. “Sarah, you need to think this through. If you sign now, you get the payout. If you make a scene, it won’t end well for you.” “I want to see Marcus.” “Mr. Elwes is a very busy man.” “Phase Two of Nexus Core is scheduled for delivery next week. I’m the only one who knows the core code—” “The technical details,” she interrupted again, “will be handled. Marcus has a plan.” I took a deep breath. Eight years. When I joined in 2017, this company was just a handful of people in a dingy old office building. The entire tech department was me and four other guys. I built Nexus Core one line of code at a time. From version 1.0 to the current 3.7. Over three million lines of code. It served seventeen of our enterprise clients and brought in over seven million dollars in annual revenue. “I can wait,” I said. Her expression soured. “Sarah, a word of advice. Once Marcus makes a decision, he doesn’t change it. You’re only going to make this harder on yourself.” I didn’t move. She stood up and left the conference room. I sat there alone, staring out the window. The three o’clock sun cast a warm glow on the street below, the same street where I bought my coffee every day. I’d been sitting in this building for eight years. The door opened. It was Marcus Elwes. He was in his early forties, his hair perfectly coiffed, a gold watch peeking out from the cuff of his tailored suit. “Sarah,” he said, sitting down across from me. “I hear you’re refusing to sign.” “Marcus, Phase Two goes live next week. If I leave, who’s going to—” “Don’t worry,” he said with a dismissive smile. “The tech is covered. Kevin and the team can handle it.” Kevin? Kevin Chen was a junior who’d been hired last year. He barely understood the system architecture. “Marcus, the core module’s encryption protocol was something I developed independently. There’s no documentation—” “Sarah.” He cut me off. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm, absolute. “I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of your role here.” I was speechless. “Nexus Core,” he said slowly, deliberately, “is the result of a team effort. It is not your personal project. The company will do just fine without you.” I stared at him, my blood running cold. “At the company gala last year,” I said, my voice quiet, “you told the clients you led the development.” His smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “That was just for marketing purposes.” “And the core technology?” “Sarah,” he said, standing up. “I don’t have time to argue with you about this. HR will handle the rest.” He walked to the door, then paused. “Don’t overestimate your own importance.” The door clicked shut. I sat there alone. The sunlight was still beautiful. But I felt a deep, unshakable chill. 2. At five o’clock, I went back to my desk. My colleagues kept their heads down, their eyes glued to their monitors. No one looked at me. As I was packing my things into a cardboard box, Kevin came over. “Sarah,” he whispered, “are you really leaving?” “My position was eliminated.” A flicker of panic crossed his face. “But… Phase Two…” “Marcus said you guys can handle it.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I knew what he wanted to say. Just last week, he’d spent two hours in a meeting with me, trying and failing to understand the key generation mechanism for the encryption module. “Sarah,” he hesitated, “Marcus told me I’m taking over Phase Two starting tomorrow…” “I know.” “I… I don’t really get how that—” “Kevin.” Marcus’s voice cut through the quiet office from behind us. Kevin froze, snapping his mouth shut as if a switch had been flipped. “Sarah’s situation is her own business. Don’t get involved,” Marcus said, walking past without even glancing at me. “We’ll discuss Phase Two at the morning stand-up.” “Yes, Marcus.” He walked away. Kevin looked at me, his mouth half-open. “Sarah, I…” “It’s okay,” I said, placing the last folder in my box. “Just do your best.” He nodded and scurried back to his desk. I walked toward the exit, box in my arms. The door to Marcus’s office was open. He was on the phone, his voice booming with confidence. “Relax, I’m personally overseeing the Nexus project. Sarah Vance? She’s just a coder. Her leaving won’t impact a thing. I’m in control of the core technology.” I stopped for a second. He didn’t see me. “That’s right, Phase Two will be delivered on time next week. You have my personal guarantee.” I didn’t go in. I just held my box and walked to the elevator. As the doors slid shut, I saw the young woman at the front desk give me a small, sad wave. Then the doors closed. Eight years. Over, just like that. I stepped out of the building, and the bright sun made me squint. My phone rang. It was my mom. “Honey, are you done with work? Coming home for dinner tonight?” I opened my mouth, the words catching in my throat. “Mom, I… I have to work late.” “Again? That company works you like a dog.” “Yeah.” “Okay, well, take care of yourself.” I hung up. Standing in front of the building, I suddenly had no idea where to go. 3. I went to the coffee shop across the street. I ordered a black Americano and found a seat in the corner, the box of my professional life at my feet. My phone screen lit up. It was the company-wide chat. Marcus had posted a message: “Team, due to personal reasons, Sarah Vance will be leaving the company. I will be personally leading the charge on Nexus Core Phase Two, so there is nothing to worry about.” A flood of replies appeared instantly. “Got it, Marcus!” “Thanks for stepping in, Marcus!” “With you leading, Marcus, I know we’re in good hands!” I stared at the screen. Personal reasons? I was laid off, and he called it personal reasons? My thumb hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds. In the end, I just locked the screen. I took a sip of coffee. It was bitter, astringent. Eight years. I gave my youth to this company. In 2017, I turned down an offer from Google to come here. Because Marcus promised me a chance to build something new, to lead a core project. And I did. Nexus Core. From scratch. I tackled every technical hurdle, often alone. I designed the encryption protocol. I built the core architecture. Through more than thirty iterations, I was the one pulling all-nighters to oversee every launch. During the massive system upgrade last year, I worked for a month straight without a single day off. And for what? At the gala, Marcus stood on stage, holding court with the clients. “Nexus Core is the culmination of our team’s hard work, which I personally led for three years…” The applause was deafening. I was sitting in a corner, invisible. Later, when a client asked him a technical question he couldn’t answer, I was the one who had to step in and save him. He clapped me on the shoulder and said, “This is our lead engineer, a technical genius I personally mentored.” I just smiled and said nothing. Looking back, I was such a fool. My phone buzzed again. An unknown number. I answered. “May I speak with Sarah Vance?” “This is she.” “Hi, Sarah, this is a recruiter from a tech headhunting firm. Is now a good time to talk?” I paused. “Not really, no.”

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My colleagues started holding all our company potlucks at my place after they discovered I was a good cook. And since Mandy, the new girl in accounting, offered to have everyone chip in for groceries, I didn’t have the heart to say no. On my last day of work, we had one final get-together at my house. Mandy was all smiles. “Clara, you’re seriously an amazing cook,” she said. “As a little thank you, we each sent you seventy-five bucks.” But the next day, she sent me a message. “Clara, running an unpermitted food business is illegal. Not only can they shut down your home, but since the total value of transactions is over fifteen hundred dollars, you’ll have to pay a fine of twenty times that amount.” “But since we’re all colleagues, we won’t report you. We can handle this privately.” “Just give us the twenty times fine as compensation.” That’s when I realized it. Up to that final dinner, the total amount of money they had all chipped in for groceries was exactly one thousand five hundred and one dollars. 1 Mandy had barely started her job in accounting, but she was already showing off her new designer handbag to everyone in the office. My coworkers oohed and aahed, telling her how rich she must be. It was exactly the reaction she wanted. She covered her mouth with her hand, giggling. “Oh, you guys will be able to afford one soon, too,” she said. She set the expensive bag on her desk and then wrapped her arms around mine, her voice turning pleading and sweet. “Clara, I heard you’re resigning. We should have one last get-together, right? I mean, who knows when we’ll ever get to taste your amazing cooking again.” I told her it was no problem and asked everyone to make a list of what they wanted to eat so I could prep. I planned a huge feast: her favorite sweet and sour pork ribs, a whole roasted salmon, slow-braised short ribs, and a few light vegetable dishes—all things they’d raved about before. It was a lot of work, but it was the last time. When she heard me agree, she gave me a huge hug. “You’re the best, Clara! With skills like yours, you could totally be a professional chef!” I smiled, still a little uncomfortable with her being so touchy-feely, and gently eased away. My best friend, Kate, picked me up from work that day and saw the menu I’d jotted down in my phone’s notes. She knew all about my dinner parties for my colleagues and couldn’t help but lecture me. “You’re about to leave, why are you still bothering with them?” she grumbled. “It’s not like you need the grocery money. It’s so much work, and what if something goes wrong? They’ll just blame you.” Kate owned a restaurant, so she’d seen her fair share of people trying to scam free meals. She was worried I’d get taken advantage of. “After you quit, come stay with me for a few days. Just relax. Stop being everyone’s free personal chef.” I figured it was just one last dinner, a nice way to say goodbye to my colleagues. What could possibly go wrong? I promised Kate it would be the absolute last time. The next morning at work, Mandy rushed over to my desk. “Clara, Clara! I told everyone about the party!” she announced. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to catch the attention of a few nearby coworkers, who all chimed in about how excited they were for the weekend. Then, Mandy sent me the menu. It was long. “I already asked everyone what they wanted, so you can just follow this list. No need to stress about it!” My eyes widened when I saw Lobster Thermidor on the list. My smile faltered. “Mandy, some of these dishes are really complicated, and the ingredients are not cheap…” Before I could finish, Mandy’s face fell into a pout. “Clara, are you saying you think we’re just a bunch of freeloaders?” I immediately denied it. She looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “It’s just… after you leave, we won’t get to eat your food anymore. We wanted to try some new things,” she wheedled. “Don’t worry, we’ll all chip in for the groceries, just like always.” I felt cornered. I finally gave in. “Okay, but this time, you’ll all need to send me the money first. I’ll refund you whatever is left over.” A corner of Mandy’s mouth twitched. She was still smiling, but her tone had an edge to it. “And here I thought we were all good friends. Guess it was just one-sided.” I frowned. Usually, a dinner party cost maybe twenty or thirty dollars per person for groceries. This time, it was going to be in the hundreds. I wasn’t about to front that kind of cash. “Money’s just a bit tight for me right now,” I said simply. “I probably don’t have enough to cover all the ingredients myself.” Her expression changed to one of understanding. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I totally misunderstood. I’ll definitely come over early on the weekend to help you out!” That night, Mandy was active in the work group chat, asking about food allergies and telling everyone to send me the money. Seeing their excited messages, the uneasy feeling in my gut started to fade. On the weekend, Mandy showed up late, saying something had come up. I didn’t think much of it. Everyone had a wonderful time. At the end of the night, when I tried to refund them the leftover money, they all refused. Instead, each of them transferred another seventy-five dollars directly to my bank account. Mandy beamed, telling me it was just a little token of their appreciation. I was genuinely touched. But later that night, after I’d finished cleaning the kitchen and finally sat down to rest, I got a notification. Mandy had added my personal phone number to a new group chat. It was called “The Final Withdrawal.” 2 When I first started the job, I’d foolishly used my personal number for work. Kate had chewed me out for it, so I got a new number just for professional use. Everyone at work had contacted me on that number for years. Why would she suddenly add my old, personal number to a group called “The Final Withdrawal”? I wasn’t expecting any kind of deposit. I figured maybe she’d forgotten I didn’t use this number anymore and added me by mistake. I was about to message her privately when a file popped up in the chat. It was a detailed spreadsheet documenting every single dinner party, the number of attendees, the cost of groceries for each meal, and screenshots of every single transfer they’d ever sent me. I hadn’t realized it, but over the past three years, my colleagues had come to my place for dinner more than forty times. There were holiday celebrations, promotion parties… every time, everyone had a blast and would always say, “Let’s do this again soon!” I felt a wave of nostalgia. Sometimes, workplace friendships could be truly heartwarming. Then, Mandy started sending a flurry of voice messages. “According to federal law, it’s illegal to engage in food service operations without a license.” “If the total value of goods exceeds fifteen hundred dollars, the fine is twenty times that amount. That’s the basis for our compensation claim against Clara.” Her voice was dripping with a smug, cruel satisfaction that made my mind go completely blank. One sixty-second voice note after another kept popping up. “Not only do we get back all the grocery money we ever gave her, but we’ll each walk away with a few thousand dollars extra.” “Think about it. Fifteen hundred bucks in a savings account for three years earns you pocket change. But invested with Clara? We’ve hit the jackpot.” “You all should be thanking me. If it wasn’t for my idea, you wouldn’t be seeing any of this money.” She then coached them on how to pressure me into paying. She sent a barrage of links to food industry regulations. “Familiarize yourselves with these. Don’t mess this up when it counts. We even paid her extra on that last dinner just to push the total over the fifteen-hundred-dollar mark.” I numbly scrolled to the bottom of the spreadsheet. The grand total of all their contributions over three years. $1,501. The number was so precise, so deliberate. It felt like a shard of ice piercing my heart. “Don’t worry, what she did is a clear violation. She’s legally liable. The twenty-times compensation is just the start. If this goes to the Health Department, they could seize her home.” “She’ll pay. She has to.” Soon, others started typing. These were the same colleagues who had always been so warm and friendly to my face. “If it wasn’t for this payout, I would’ve stopped chipping in ages ago. Twenty bucks a person? I can get a decent lunch for fifteen.” “Mandy, you’re a genius. A true accountant, always looking out for our bottom line.” “Not like that snake Clara. Charging us so much for that last dinner? She was trying to rip us off. Well, she’s about to regret it!” I couldn’t believe it. The kind, friendly people I thought I knew were hiding these ugly, twisted faces. The most laughable part? They had been planning this from the very beginning. For three years. They were now gleefully comparing how many dinners each of them had attended, calculating how much compensation they were owed. Watching them celebrate their victory, a chilling cold spread through my limbs. My heart felt like it was bleeding. They were the ones who had suggested the dinners. They were the ones who had offered to split the cost of groceries. I had never cut corners. I always chose fresh, healthy ingredients. A meal like the ones I prepared would have cost a fortune at a restaurant, but I only ever charged them about twenty dollars each, just enough to cover the food. I never even charged for my labor. Then they got bolder, making more and more demanding requests, and I did my best to accommodate them. One colleague, who not only attended every single dinner but also always hitched a ride with me, spoke up. “Mandy, are you sure we can get twenty times the amount? That’s like, thirty thousand dollars.” Mandy’s voice note was quick and confident. “Don’t worry. I’ve done my homework.” She posted screenshots of every single transfer. “All we have to do is stick to the story: she was running a business for profit, and these were payments for her catering services.” “Besides, remember how I told you all to add a note to every transfer?” “She can’t deny it. Even if she takes this to court, we have the upper hand.” It hit me then. Every time they sent me money, they’d always added a little note: “Meal Payment” or “Catering.” I thought it was just to help me keep track of the money. I never imagined it was another piece of their trap. The chat went quiet for a moment. Then, someone asked hesitantly. “Mandy, isn’t this a little… harsh? Maybe we could ask for just a few times the amount. Twenty seems like a lot. We all used to be friends.” Mandy’s reply was swift and vicious. “Whose side are you on? This is for all of us!” “You were all for it when I first brought it up.” “Trying to be the good guy now? A little late for that, don’t you think? Anyone who backs out now will have to deal with me.” No one else objected. The truth of their three-year deception was laid bare before me, bloody and raw. A cruel joke mocking my own stupidity.

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My parents’ divorce split us apart. My sister went with Mom, and I was left with Dad. After the divorce, Dad’s temper grew worse. He spent his days drinking or beating me, ignoring everything else at home. With no money for food or necessities, I had to work under the table at the local market after school just to keep us afloat. One day, after Dad knocked me out and stole my hard-earned cash again, strange text floated across my vision like a livestream chat. [The little sister is still in the dark. She doesn’t know her parents never divorced.] [This is all just a reality show. They want to see the difference between raising a child in poverty versus wealth.] [The little sister is so pitiful, starving and cold, while the big sister lives in a mansion eating like a queen.] Following the chat’s instructions, I found where my sister lived. I saw her in an expensive princess dress, walking out of a villa arm-in-arm with our parents. They got into a Rolls-Royce and drove away. Clutching my aching, empty stomach, bitterness flooded my heart. So, they never divorced. So, I was the only one suffering. And the reason they chose me for the “poverty experiment”? Because I was the obedient one. 1 I stood there, frozen, staring in disbelief. If I had doubted the floating text before, seeing my well-dressed parents and sister together shattered any skepticism. They were still together. We weren’t broke. I was just the only one left in the dark. Was I abandoned because I was the good kid? I clutched my chest, the pain making it hard to breathe. The chat scrolling past my eyes told me this was all a game. Rich people behind screens loved watching this kind of “reality TV,” tipping thousands of dollars a day. So, my parents did this for money? Standing under the bright sun, I felt cold to my bones. My phone buzzed. A text from my sister, Chloe. “Sis, heard you’re working odd jobs to survive? Poor thing.” “But you’ve always been the sensible one. You’ll work hard, right?” Her tone dripped with schadenfreude. Chloe had always been the sweet talker, knowing exactly how to make our parents smile. I was the quiet one, always in the background. In middle school, I ranked first in my grade while Chloe was at the bottom. Instead of praising me, my parents scolded me for showing off in front of her. That was when I knew they favored her. “What are you doing?! Look at the time!” A familiar shout snapped me back to reality. I realized I had walked to my workplace without thinking. It was my daily part-time job. After the “divorce,” Dad became an alcoholic. He was either drunk, asleep, or hitting me. He never gave me a dime. Sometimes, he even stole my wages for booze. Because I was under eighteen, most places wouldn’t hire me. I could only work illegal shifts at the market. “I’m sorry…” I apologized numbly, took the greasy apron, and started working. It wasn’t until midnight that I clutched my day’s pay and carefully navigated the dark alley back home. I turned on the light. The dim bulb illuminated our dilapidated, damp apartment. Peeling paint, cracked windows, faded furniture. Dad, usually drunk at home, was gone. I guessed he was with Mom and Chloe. They were a happy family. I lived in a slum. After eating a cup of instant noodles, I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. I knew there were cameras hidden in the corners, broadcasting my every move to screens elsewhere for entertainment. Unable to sleep, I took out my phone and scrolled aimlessly. The floating text suddenly displayed a website link. [This is their livestream site. Poor Little Sis doesn’t know anything, working so hard.] I held my breath and carefully typed the URL into my old phone. It was a hidden site with many live channels. In the most popular room, I saw myself. And my parents. And Chloe. They were in a high-end restaurant, feasting on lobster and abalone. I smelled the lingering scent of instant noodles in my room and swallowed hard. At this moment, I felt like the ugly duckling, peeking at the swans’ happiness from the shadows. 2 I got home at 9 PM. Final exam results came out today. I ranked first again. On the way back from the market, I bought a small piece of sponge cake as a reward. It was the cheapest kind, two dollars, no frosting. But it was the best I could afford. Back home, I placed the cake carefully on the table and broke off a small piece. The texture was rough, but the egg flavor was strong. My nose stung. I couldn’t remember the last time I had cake. Suddenly, the chat floated by again. [Little Sis is so sad. Celebrating first place with a two-dollar cake.] [Big Sis is different. Ranked last but feasting with parents.] The comments discussed the feast my family was having. The cake in my mouth turned tasteless. It was too quiet alone. I opened the livestream site again. Sure enough, Mom, Dad, and Chloe were gorging themselves at a fancy Japanese restaurant. I saw Mom smiling, patting Chloe’s head, saying grades didn’t matter as long as she tried. I saw Dad put a large piece of fatty tuna in Chloe’s bowl, saying even with bad grades, he’d send her abroad to study if she wanted. They chatted happily, planning Chloe’s future. Not a word about me. It was as if I didn’t exist. As if Chloe was an only child. I closed the stream, feeling dim. Halfway through the cake, heavy footsteps sounded outside. Dad was back. I wanted to show him my grades. I forced a smile. But before I could hand over the report card, he shoved me. “Got any money? Give me money for booze!” I shrank back. “I… don’t have much.” He had taken almost everything last time. “Working and no money? Liar! Go buy it!” He kicked my shin. Pain shot up my leg. A bruise formed instantly. I didn’t dare speak, grabbed my loose change, and ran out. I bought the alcohol and returned in the dark. “I got it.” Watching him drink, I gathered my courage. “Dad, exam results are out. I got…” Before I could say “first,” he roared impatiently. “What’s the use of a girl studying! You’ll just get married! Hurry up and graduate, get a job, and give me money! That’s what matters!” My eyes widened. I remembered the livestream. They encouraged Chloe to study, to see the world while she was young. Why was it useless for me? I crumpled the report card in my pocket and never took it out. Dad finished the booze and stumbled out, knocking over the table. My half-eaten cake fell to the floor. He stepped on it without a glance. Bang. The door slammed. Footsteps faded. I looked at the crushed cake and cried. 3 Dad didn’t come back for a long time. From the livestream, I learned Chloe wanted them to accompany her before the SATs (college entrance exams). I sat in the damp rental, feeling like my heart was soaked in ice water, shivering. On the day of the exam, I walked to school alone. Luxury cars zoomed past. I saw Chloe’s smiling face in one. After the exam, I saw my parents waiting at the school gate. I smiled instinctively. Just as I stepped forward, they waved enthusiastically in another direction. I followed their gaze and saw a beaming Chloe. I froze. I watched the three of them walk away together, arm in arm, until they disappeared. The chat filled my vision again. [Big Sis is truly the favorite. Three days of full accompaniment, eating gourmet food.] [Little Sis ate steamed buns and pickles for three days. No nutrition.] [Is torturing Little Sis just for the show?] I took out my phone and checked the stream. I saw my parents replying to comments. [It’s to toughen her up. Can’t spoil her young. Plenty of kids have it worse, why can’t she handle it?] [Once the acceptance letters come, we’ll bring her home. We won’t mistreat her then.] Reading their replies, I smiled bitterly. “Won’t mistreat her.” As if I should be grateful. Why? Did they think one sentence could erase six years of suffering? 4 After the exams, I frantically looked for more work. I didn’t know if they’d pay my tuition, but I knew they didn’t love me. Results day. I went to school. Looking at my score on the screen, my teacher was thrilled. “Maya, first place again! I knew you’d get into Capital University.” I rushed home, planning to dig out my savings for tuition. Money I had secretly saved from my jobs. But home was a wreck. My hidden money was gone. Dad was snoring on the sofa, clutching a bottle. I grabbed his collar, screaming, “Dad! Where’s my money?!” He woke up, pushed me away, and cursed. “Yelling at your father? Your money is mine! I raised you, spending your money is my right!” “That was my tuition! I got into Capital University!” He glared, fierce as a demon. “Study what? You’re eighteen! Go work! Don’t ask me for money!” I shook with rage, tears falling. “No. I’m going to college. I’ll earn the tuition myself.” I turned and left. The sun was scorching. I walked to the market, but my old stall was empty. Wondering where to find work, someone blocked my path. It was my sister, Chloe. She wore a brand new designer dress and crystal necklace. I looked down at my faded t-shirt and sweatpants, ashamed. “Sis, heard you did well? Your name’s on the honor roll. Amazing.” She smiled, voice gentle. “Looking for work? It’s too dirty here. I’ll introduce you to a tutoring job. It’s for a friend of Mom’s. Safe.” Seeing the concern on her face, I felt a pang of emotion. In the end, only she was willing to help.

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1 Our doctor called Caspian Hamblett and me a match made in heaven—a cruel twist of fate, really. His fertility rate was practically zero, a severe case of male infertility. Mine was the exact opposite; I was hyper-fertile. We were a biological paradox. And so, in our third year of marriage, the impossible happened: I conceived naturally. I tucked the positive pregnancy test into a small, elegant box, planning to give it to him on his birthday. The perfect surprise. But he beat me to it, exploding across the internet first: #HamblettHeirCaspianAndSupermodelGirlfriendInSteamyHotelRomp #SeraphinaRowesBody #LearningNewTricksAtTheApexHotel I felt like I’d been plunged into a cavern of ice. I called Caspian, my hand trembling. He answered, his voice a low, intimate murmur. “Babe, I’ve got a business dinner tonight. Don’t wait up.” Before I could utter a single word, he hung up, leaving me frozen in silence. I didn’t sleep that night. … The comments online were a torrent of poison. [You can’t really blame him for finding another woman. His wife is barren.] [Exactly. He’s handsome, rich, incredible in bed. He has everything. Genes like that deserve to be passed on.] [Please, Seraphina Rowe is an international supermodel. Can you imagine how perfect their kid would be?] Through the long lens of a paparazzi camera, Caspian made no effort to hide as he pressed the woman against the floor-to-ceiling window. His large hands were strategically placed, cupping her private areas, his movements powerful yet tender. Below, on the street, a crowd of onlookers and photographers grew, their cameras flashing until night fell. [Damn, three hours, four rounds. Caspian Hamblett is a god.] [Seraphina must be in heaven.] For me, those three hours were an eternity of torture. I watched the man who had promised to love me for a lifetime tear off his mask for the world to see, losing himself in another woman. I remembered a year ago, after a full year of trying for a baby with no success, when his parents pressured us into getting checked. The results came back. The doctor told me the problem was Caspian. To protect his pride, his fragile male ego, I begged the doctor to keep it a secret. I told everyone the problem was me. That I was the one who couldn’t conceive. That night, his mother laid out dozens of photos in front of him. “The Hamblett family empire is enormous. We can’t let it die without an heir.” “This one is from Harvard, high IQ. This one is a professor at Juilliard, artistic, from a family of intellectuals…” Right in front of me, Caspian swept the photos into the trash can. “Mom, forget it. I only love Elara.” “I can’t separate my body from my heart.” His mother tried everything to force us apart—tears, tantrums, threats. But he just held my hand tighter and we moved out of the Hamblett mansion. He even threatened to publicly disown his family. “You two can have more kids if you want,” he’d told his parents. “That way you won’t have to worry about the Hamblett legacy.” “Elara and I are going to live a happy, carefree life, just the two of us.” The conviction in his eyes back then was absolute. I truly believed we would love each other for the rest of our lives. But now… Tears blurred my vision. I rested a hand on my stomach, on the precious new life I was carrying, and sent Caspian a text. [Are you sure you don’t want to know what your surprise is?] I stared at my phone, praying for a reply. If he would just apologize, even with a pathetic excuse like he’d lost his head for a moment, I would keep our child. I would give him one more chance. But the only reply I received was a city-wide firework display, lighting up the night sky with a message for everyone to see: [To Seraphina Rowe’s first love, Mr. Hamblett. It began with you, it will be true to you, and it will end with you. I love you~] [Happy Birthday. Here’s to many more with me.] The fireworks spelled out the words, one by one, for a full thirty minutes. Their grand romantic gesture was trending again. They were on a yacht on the Hudson, having a candlelit dinner. [I heard Caspian bought that yacht for her. It’s their private love boat now.] [Wow, so romantic. I can only imagine what happens on that thing~] My heart shattered, piece by piece. Today wasn’t just his twenty-eighth birthday. It was our tenth anniversary. We were eighteen when we got into the same university. One kiss, and we were inseparable. Now, he had clearly forgotten all about the woman waiting at home to celebrate with him. I sat at the dining table for five hours, watching the food grow cold and the cake I’d baked collapse in on itself. Finally, my phone buzzed. It was from Seraphina. [Caspian and I had a wild night. He just fell asleep.] [If you want to know what happened, it’s all online. Need me to send you a highlight reel?] A flood of video files came through, eating up nearly twenty gigabytes of my phone’s memory. [Here’s the whole thing. Enjoy the show, honey.] [Okay, I’m exhausted. Going to cuddle with your husband now. Bye.] The last message was a photo of Caspian asleep. His brow was furrowed with fatigue, but a sweet, satisfied smile played on his lips. A wave of nausea washed over me. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet. The baby kicked restlessly inside me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood as tears streamed down my face. “I’m sorry, little one,” I whispered. “It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s that I can’t have you.” I wanted so badly to give our child a happy home. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened and continue to share a bed with Caspian. After I was done being sick, I pulled myself up from the floor. I started packing a bag, my mind set on going to the hospital for an abortion. Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was Alfred, his parents’ driver. “Ma’am, Mrs. Hamblett would like to see you.” I went with him. His mother slid a divorce agreement across the table. “I’m sure you’re aware of what happened yesterday.” “Caspian has been carrying on with that woman in public, for the whole city to see. He’s made it perfectly clear he’s ready for a divorce.” “You need to accept the fact that he doesn’t love you anymore. Sign the papers. Don’t hold him back.” After a sleepless night, I had already steeled myself to end our ten-year relationship. To lose his child. To divorce him. I just hadn’t expected the Hamblett family to be in such a hurry to throw me out. I picked up the agreement with a bitter taste in my mouth. The terms were simple: I would leave with nothing. I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. I pushed the papers back. “I’ll agree to a divorce. But I’m not signing this.” “Caspian’s affair is public knowledge. I want a seventy-thirty split of the assets.” “Seventy for me, thirty for him.” His mother slammed her hand on the table. “How dare you!” “In all the years you’ve been married into this family, you haven’t produced a single heir.” “Marrying Caspian elevated you, a girl from a bankrupt family, to a status and respect you never deserved.” “And now you have the audacity to demand money? You should be compensating us!” The absurdity of it all was suffocating. “Has it ever occurred to you that the reason I can’t have a baby is because your son is the one who’s broken?” SLAP. The force of the blow sent a ringing through my ears. She threw a debit card at my face. “Don’t you dare spew such nonsense.” “Your youth was worth about five hundred dollars.” “Take it, and get out of my house.” Just then, the door opened. Caspian walked in, holding Seraphina’s hand. He flinched when he saw me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He tried to pull his hand away, but Seraphina gripped it tighter, linking her arm through his. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hamblett,” Seraphina cooed. “Caspian and I were up so late last night, we overslept a little.” She pulled a sapphire necklace and an envelope from her purse. “This is for you. It was the grand prize from the modeling competition. A royal blue sapphire. The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” His mother’s eyes lit up. “This is a priceless piece, almost impossible to find at auction now. And you’re just giving it to me?” Seraphina nodded. “Of course. You’re Caspian’s mother. You raised this incredible man. I don’t know how else to thank you.” His mother beamed. “You are too thoughtful, my dear. It seems our Caspian has finally opened his eyes.” “I didn’t have time to prepare a proper gift for you, but please, take this.” She handed Seraphina a black credit card. “It has a five-million-dollar monthly limit. Spend it as you wish. I know you models have to maintain a certain image.” Seraphina hugged her sweetly. “Thank you so much! I’m opening the fashion show tomorrow. You have to come!” A bitter pang shot through my heart. In all my years with Caspian, I had never been treated with such warmth. I grabbed my bag to leave, but Caspian stopped me. “Stay for dinner.” I shook him off. “No, thank you. Let’s get a divorce.” “I’ll meet you at the city clerk’s office tomorrow at nine.” His brow furrowed with impatience. “Yes, I’m with Seraphina now. But she doesn’t mind you being around. You can keep your title as Mrs. Hamblett.” He leaned in, his voice low. “You need to remember, you have no one but me now.” “Throwing a tantrum and demanding a divorce won’t do you any good.” He was right. I had no one else. Ever since my parents died in a car crash that was meant for him, a deliberate act of sabotage, I had clung to him like he was life itself. He was the only one left who would be good to me. And now, this blatant betrayal. If I had known this would happen, I would have stayed away from him ten years ago. Then my parents would still be alive. Seraphina approached me with a bright, false smile, as if just noticing me. “Oh, Elara, you’re here! I actually had a little favor to ask you.” “Listen to Caspian. Stay for dinner.” I took a step back. “No.” Caspian’s face darkened. “Elara, don’t take your anger out on Seraphina.” “She’s sincerely asking for your help, not for your cold shoulder.” He shoved me into a dining chair. Seraphina poured me a glass of red wine. “The jewelry I was planning to wear for the show tomorrow has gone missing.” “This is a special exhibition. The pieces need to have a story. The other models are wearing family heirlooms or purchased antiques. I can’t find a suitable replacement on such short notice.” “So, I was hoping to borrow yours.” Her eyes were fixed on the necklace I was wearing. “With the story behind it, your necklace would be the talk of the show.” Her earnest expression was a mask for raw provocation. My heart seized. I instinctively covered the necklace with my hand. I had taken it from my mother’s body. I remember that day with sickening clarity. A massive truck plowing straight into my parents’ car. Their multi-million dollar Rolls-Royce, crushed like a tin can. Blood pooling on the asphalt. It was the darkest day of my life. I knelt before their mangled bodies, my screams tearing through the air, and salvaged the broken half of the necklace from my mother’s neck. It was the only thing I had left of her. And now, Seraphina wanted to use my tragedy as a prop for her career. “Never. My pain is not a tool for your publicity.” Caspian glanced at her, then at me. “Let it go, Seraphina. That was her mother’s.” Tears welled in Seraphina’s eyes, her hand, holding a wine glass, frozen in mid-air. “I just wanted to borrow it,” she choked out. “It’s not like I wasn’t going to give it back.” “Caspian, you know how important this show is to me. I’m on the verge of breaking into the international market.” As her tears fell, Caspian’s expression softened, his brief sternness melting into concern. “Elara, maybe you could just…” “Impossible,” I cut him off. I stood to leave, but Seraphina grabbed my arm. “Please, Elara. I’m begging you.” “I really don’t have time to find anything else. If you’re angry at me because of Caspian, you can hit me, you can yell at me, whatever you want.” I tried to pull away. “Let go of me.” She stumbled backward and fell to the floor, the red wine staining her dress like a fresh wound. Caspian rushed to her side, his face a mask of fury. “That’s enough, Elara.” “Your parents are dead. They’re gone. What’s the point of clinging to a necklace? You’d be better off visiting their graves.” He reached over and ripped the necklace from my neck. “Seraphina is borrowing it. Stop making a scene.” He scooped her up into his arms. “Mom, this woman has ruined dinner.” “I’m taking Seraphina to change. We’ll see you at the show tomorrow.” He carried her out the door. I stumbled after them, my voice raw. “Caspian, that belonged to my mother! You can’t!” “Give it back to me!” He settled Seraphina into the car, then turned to me, his face flushed with anger. “Maybe I’ve been too good to you, Elara. Is that why you feel like you can treat Seraphina this way?” “All she did was ask to borrow something.” He had forgotten. That crash was orchestrated by one of his family’s enemies. They thought he was in the car that day. My parents had died for him. I remember him kneeling at their memorial, sobbing, swearing an oath. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I’ll take care of Elara for the rest of my life. I’ll love her and protect her.” “I’ll never let anyone hurt her. I’ll never let something like this happen to her.” All those promises were now dust. A man’s heart changes so easily. For his new love, he could steal my most precious memory. Disappointment was etched across his face. He slammed his foot on the gas, the car screeching away, leaving me standing alone in the road. I didn’t care. I scrambled to my feet and ran after him. At an intersection, there was a deafening screech of tires and a sickening crunch. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, thrown several meters by the impact of a car. Blood poured from my nose and mouth. My clothes were soaked with it, a sticky, warm wetness spreading from beneath me. I tried to move, but my body was a dead weight. Through a hazy fog, I heard the wail of a siren. “Quick, call Mr. Hamblett!” “She’s losing too much blood. The baby’s gone. We have to focus on saving her.” “If we lose her, Mr. Hamblett will tear this hospital apart!” A doctor’s voice, choked with tears, “Director, he’s not answering.” “Then use her phone.” They fished my phone from my pocket. The screen was shattered but somehow still worked. A few seconds after they dialed, he picked up. “It’s the middle of the night, Elara. What do you want now?” The paramedic spoke quickly. “Mr. Hamblett, this is City General Hospital. Your wife—” A cold laugh cut him off. “Is Elara being dramatic again? Did she hire actors to try and guilt me into coming home?” “Seraphina has a huge show tomorrow. She’s nervous and needs me with her.” “I’ll come home after it’s over.” “And don’t worry, I’ll bring your necklace back with me.” “No, sir, you don’t understand,” the paramedic insisted. “Your wife has been in a serious car accident.” “She’s in critical condition.” “And she’s miscarried. You need to get to the hospital.” Caspian’s voice was laced with annoyance. “She can’t get pregnant, so how could she have a miscarriage?” “I told you, I’m busy tonight. Tell her to stop acting like a child.” Click. The line went dead. Caspian’s eyelid twitched all night. It was still twitching the next day. A knot of anxiety tightened in his gut. After the fashion show, he hurriedly dismissed the reporters. As he was heading to his car, a man stopped him. “Mr. Hamblett? Miss Elara asked me to give this to you.” In front of all the flashing cameras, the man handed Caspian a small, ornate wooden box. The media swarmed, their lenses focused tightly on it as he lifted the lid.

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The serial murder case I spearheaded was overturned eight years later. The victims’ enraged families cornered me outside my parents’ house and stabbed me multiple times, demanding my life as payment. My own family, ashamed of the scandal, cut ties with me. I served an eight-year sentence for gross negligence in the performance of my duty. After my release, I sought refuge in the quiet coastal town of Port Willow, making a meager living as a fisherman. Finally, there was a measure of peace. But that hard-won serenity shattered the moment my ex-wife, Seraphina “Sera” Albright, arrived. She was now the celebrated Police Commissioner of Cresthaven, famed for her string of high-profile cases. A relentless storm lashed the coast, and a swarm of reporters pressed against my small wooden cabin, shouting. “Mr. Kincaid, sources say the Commissioner remained unmarried for eight years, waiting for your return!” I stared at her, standing there in her rain-slicked glory, and the urge to laugh was overwhelming and bitter. No one knew that the one who had manufactured the case, built the evidence, and pushed me out to take the fall—all to elevate her lover, Brandon Cole—was this very same “devoted” Commissioner Albright. 1 The cabin door remained locked, and the reporters, seeing this public snub, were audibly sympathizing with Sera. She, however, appeared perfectly composed. The rising volume of the crowd finally drew Frankie, the owner of the fishing boat, out of the cabin. He approached Sera, visibly terrified, bowing slightly. “Commis— Commissioner Albright, we’re all honest, hard-working people here,” he stammered. “This town can’t handle a person of your stature. If you and all these cameras don’t leave, we’ll lose tomorrow’s haul.” He then turned toward the cabin and called out, a plea in his voice: “Rhys Kincaid! The Commissioner came all this way for you. Just step out and talk to her!” “That won’t be necessary. Don’t pressure him,” Sera’s cool voice cut in. At the sound of her voice, my hands froze. The sharp nylon mesh of the net sliced a deep, ragged line across my index finger. Even after all these years, hearing her voice—that practiced, even tone—still stripped away my hard-won tranquility. I knew her better than anyone. The possibility that she was here out of some lingering affection was as absurd as the sun rising in the West. I knew she wouldn’t leave until she got what she came for. Thinking of Frankie, and the small kindnesses he’d shown me, I let out a long, heavy sigh. I put down the net and stepped out of the small shack. The instant I appeared, the reporters swarmed. A barrage of questions. Rapid fire. “What’s it like, going from decorated Detective to dockside fisherman?” “Is your avoidance because you still resent the Commissioner for exposing your negligence?” “We hear your former protégé, Brandon Cole, has proposed to her multiple times. Any comment on that?” The manic energy pushed them forward. Microphones jabbed my face. My eyes sought hers—Sera was standing a few feet away, watching the spectacle with a cold, assessing gaze. I felt a chill lock up my muscles. Question after cutting question hit me, but I couldn’t form a single word. My throat was dry. Nothing. The reporters, frustrated by my silence, grew more aggressive, nearly shoving me over. Then, Sera moved. She pushed through the crush of bodies and stood directly in front of me, shielding me. Her voice was low, yet commanded instant silence. “Everyone,” she said, “this is a private matter between Mr. Kincaid and me. We won’t be answering any questions.” She gestured toward the docks. “They have work to do. Let them get back to it. Clear out.” The crowd dispersed grudgingly. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, ready to bolt back inside. “Rhys Kincaid,” Sera said. I forced myself to meet her eyes, my body rigid. “Is there something else, Commissioner Albright?” She flinched, just a hairline tremor at the formality of the title. She took a moment, then asked, her voice soft, “Have you… been well? All these years?” The question, coming from her, was so wildly, obscenely ridiculous I almost laughed. But the moment wasn’t for humor. She took a step closer, lifting a hand toward me. My body reacted instantly. I stumbled back, not noticing the metal bucket beside my feet. CLANG! I fell hard and gracelessly, flat on my back. The fresh cut on my finger struck a jagged rock, and bright blood welled up and ran down my palm. Sera rushed forward, her face a mask of concern, reaching for me. “Are you hurt? Let me help you up.” I scrambled away from her touch, bracing myself against the rough wood of the cabin to stand. “I’m fine.” Ignoring Frankie’s stunned gaze, I hurried to dismiss her. “Commissioner Albright, if that’s all you came for, I need to get back to work. I’m out on the water before dawn.” Sera’s expression fractured into something that looked convincingly like pain. She reached out again. “Rhys, do we really have to be this cold to each other? You don’t know what I’ve been through these past years—” A new voice cut her off. “Mommy! Dad and I missed you so much!” A boy, maybe nine or ten, barreled straight into Sera’s arms. Brandon Cole approached, steering my parents—Robert and Susan Kincaid—by the elbow. He gently took the hand Sera had extended to me, pulling her closer with a proprietary air. “Sera, why didn’t you call me when you came to see the Master?” he chastised, but his tone was light. “Mom and Dad were frantic when they heard you came out to this remote place alone.” He glanced at me, a condescending smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t mind us, Rhys. The boy missed his mother. And with her being pregnant again, we all have to be extra careful.” My eyes drifted, involuntarily, to her flat stomach. The irony was a punch to the gut. Eight years unmarried, waiting for me? She had two children with Brandon, one already nearly ten. I thought back. Before my arrest, she’d been injured in the line of duty, claiming she needed a year at a specialized recovery clinic. That must be when it happened. They were already intertwined, already a family. And I, the fool, had been oblivious, throwing myself into solving just one more case, chasing one more bonus, to make sure she had the best care possible. Before I could even process the assault of emotion, my parents’ accusations began, a torrent of righteous anger. “Rhys Kincaid, you have the nerve to still be breathing!” My father, Robert, spat the words. “You shamed us beyond repair!” My mother, Susan, cried out, “Your father had a stroke three years ago! If Brandon hadn’t been checking on us, if he hadn’t rushed your father to the hospital—your father would be dead and buried!” I looked at their graying hair and the deep lines of their aged faces, and despite everything, a wave of hollow regret washed over me for the years of care I couldn’t give them. But watching them cling to Sera and Brandon, the sting of betrayal intensified. If they knew the truth—that the people they were thanking, the people they cherished, were the ones who had framed me for a crime that cost innocent lives—what would that do to them? My father looked at me with open disgust. “Sera, that boy is a disgrace. He isn’t worth your worry.” He shook his head. “If I had committed such a horrific wrong, I would have had the decency to disappear forever! You shouldn’t have come for him!” My mother chimed in, pure contempt in her voice. “That’s right. We disowned him eight years ago. Don’t worry about hurting our feelings. What good is a son like that? We only recognize you and Brandon as our family now.” Frankie was watching the exchange, his eyes wide and beginning to look wary. There was nothing left to say. My subtly trembling hands were the only thing that betrayed the cold fury churning inside me. Sera noticed the tremor. With a look of practiced sympathy, she explained, “They’ve had to endure public scorn for years, Rhys. Try not to blame them.” She gently soothed my parents, then turned back to me before leaving. “What happened back then… I still owe you for it,” she murmured. “My number hasn’t changed. Call me if you ever need anything.” I simply nodded, refusing to speak. Seeing my non-committal nod, Sera finally seemed satisfied and departed. Call her? I thought. I wanted to run from them, not beg for the scraps of charity she might condescend to throw my way. After my parents and the entourage were gone, Frankie walked over and clapped my shoulder, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, but I knew. Something had shifted. The next day, I was assigned to the oldest, most dilapidated boat, given the back-breaking tasks. Frankie shuffled his feet, avoiding my eyes. “Rhys, it’s not that I don’t want to look out for you,” he mumbled. “Look, after the spectacle yesterday… and, well, everyone knows you did time.” He looked miserable. “No one wants to share a boat with you. You’ll have to work alone.” I nodded silently, shouldered the heavy fishing net, and walked toward the small boat that looked painfully frail against the churning waves. A wave of crushing sadness washed over me. The fragile illusion of peace—Sera had personally destroyed it.

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The day I was due to give birth to twins, I bought out every dose of tocolytics in the hospital, forcing my body to delay labor. I held on until the next day, watching Julian Sterling announce that his 10th mistress, Sophia Lin, had given birth to his child first. Her child would be the future heir of Sterling Enterprises. Only then did I let out a breath of relief and give birth to my twins right there. In my past life, Julian was diagnosed with congenital low sperm count. To ensure an heir, he kept ten mistresses and declared that whoever gave birth first, her child would inherit the empire. He told me that if I gave birth first, he would dismiss all the mistresses and let my child inherit everything. I believed him. When I unexpectedly became pregnant with twins, I was overjoyed. But on the day of delivery, I was met not with his smile, but with his rage. Ignoring my screams, he forced the babies back inside me and stitched me up. I watched helplessly as they slowly suffocated within me. He dragged me to a fresh grave and forced me to kowtow until my head bled. “Sophia came from nothing. I just wanted her child to be the heir so no one would dare bully them. But you, you had to try and steal even that.” “She died in childbirth, taking the baby with her. I want you to pay with your life.” I was beaten to death in front of Sophia’s grave. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that day. This time, I’ll let the three of them be a happy family. Chapter 1 I called the nurse and demanded the last injection of tocolytics. Chapter 2 The nurse screamed in protest, “Mrs. Sterling, you must deliver now! Any further delay could be life-threatening!” Before I could speak, Julian’s bodyguards burst in and forcibly dragged me away. The doctors and nurses shouted desperately behind us, “Her heart rate and blood pressure are dropping! Moving her now could cause a massive hemorrhage! It could mean three lives lost!” But the bodyguards turned a deaf ear, roughly dragging me to the press conference. Julian’s mistresses were also brought to the scene, some already visibly pregnant. Then, everyone, including me, was forced to drink a bowl of abortifacient. Screams and wails filled the venue, the stench of blood spreading rapidly. “Even if the wife gives birth, it’s not like us mistresses have a chance. Why make us miscarry?! Ah, it hurts! Help!” I was forced to drink the whole bowl. The labor that had just been halted turned into a hemorrhage. My screams alarmed the other women, who panicked: “Mrs. Sterling was forced to drink it too? She was about to give birth!” “If it’s not her giving birth, then who? Who wants us all dead?” I rolled on the floor in agony, gritting my teeth and shouting, “Call a doctor! Someone’s going to die!” Just then, Sophia Lin, dressed in a white gauze dress, walked in arm-in-arm with Julian. Her face was rosy, showing no signs of having just given birth. Chapter 3 As Julian entered and saw the mistresses lying on the floor, his face changed instantly. Sophia covered her nose and screamed, “Oh my, why have all these sisters miscarried? Who is so cruel as to deny them their children?” Before she finished speaking, Julian glared at me and kicked me hard in the stomach. “You bitch! Taking advantage of my absence to drug them! Your jealousy drove you to kill them and their unborn children!” I couldn’t stand up from the pain. Seeing her standing behind him with a smug look, I gritted my teeth, “I didn’t… it must be her—” “Still denying it?” He roared. “This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt people out of jealousy! This time, I won’t indulge you.” He ordered the bodyguards, “Everyone gives her a slap. Afterward, I’ll send you to the best hospitals and postpartum centers.” The bodyguards pinned me down in the center of the venue, ignoring the blood flowing from my lower body. The girls walked up crying, slapping me with tears in their eyes: “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling…” One after another, slap after slap, until my ears rang and my vision blurred. Only after everyone was sent away did Julian satisfy himself by taking the baby from the nanny and leading Sophia to me. He looked at my bloodstained body and face, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. But the next moment, he lifted his chin and said coldly: Chapter 4 “Don’t blame me for letting them hit you. I have to teach you a lesson. Let you know the consequences of jealousy and harming others.” “Just so you don’t think about stealing the heir position from Sophia and her son again.” I trembled and looked up at him. So, I wasn’t the only one reborn. No wonder he immediately blamed me as soon as Sophia spoke. No wonder he said I did this “not for the first time.” Because in the past life, he also wrongly accused me and sentenced me to death for Sophia. My eyes reddened. He said coldly: “Joanna, playing the victim won’t work. Giving birth early won’t help either.” “I’ve already had the doctor induce labor for Sophia. This time she will definitely beat you to it. Whoever gives birth first, their child is the heir. Even if you give birth, it’s useless.” I laughed miserably, clutching my bleeding lower body, and whispered: “I already took the inhibitors to delay labor, making way for your family of three. But why won’t you let me give birth to my children? Why force me to drink that medicine, to kill my babies…” He froze, frowning deeply. “Don’t talk nonsense. Your due date was yesterday. I asked the doctor, you gave birth long ago.” Cold sweat poured down my face. I kept crying in pain, pulling him to look closely at my still swollen belly. He looked disgusted, impatiently shaking off my hand, refusing to look at my stomach. “Stop acting. If you want to prove you didn’t try to harm Sophia, admit at the press conference tomorrow that you couldn’t conceive and asked Sophia to carry the child for you.” “Then transfer all your shares and assets to her and her child, and serve them well in the future.” “If you dare play any tricks or touch a hair on her head, I’ll deal with not just you and the bastard in your belly—your critically ill father won’t be staying in the VIP ward either.” Chapter 5 I stared wide-eyed at Julian, my cries heart-wrenching: “Julian Sterling, you bastard! My father is in a coma because he saved you! How can you threaten me with his life?!” Julian said impatiently, “As long as you serve Sophia during her confinement and take good care of them, I won’t touch him.” With that, he left with his arm around Sophia. “Sophia, thank you for giving me an heir. I’m going to reward you well.” My lower body was hemorrhaging. I begged the bodyguards guarding the venue to take me to the hospital, to save the children in my belly. My mother-in-law rushed in. Seeing the pool of blood and my state covered in foul amniotic fluid, her face turned pale. “Send her to the hospital quickly! If anything happens to my grandchildren, I won’t spare any of you!” I was sent to the hospital, but the doctor was nowhere to be found. My mother-in-law was furious, demanding to know where my assigned doctors were. The nurses said awkwardly: “Mrs. Sterling, all the doctors in the city were called to the Riverside Villa by the CEO. Miss Sophia pricked her finger during a blood test, and Mr. Sterling was afraid of complications, so he ordered all doctors to be on standby.” “Right now… there are no doctors in the city.” My mother-in-law was so angry she kept calling him: “He’s crazy! His wife, whom he begged to marry, is hemorrhaging giving birth to his children, and he calls away all the doctors for a mistress? Does he not care if his wife lives or dies?!” Chapter 6 After the tenth call, Julian finally answered, asking impatiently what she wanted, if I was making trouble again and looking for her support. My mother-in-law shouted excitedly: “Joanna is hemorrhaging and in a coma! The babies are suffering from hypoxia! And you took all her doctors away! Do you want to kill your wife and children?” Julian sneered: “Did Joanna make you call me? She gave birth yesterday, why pretend to be critically ill now?” “Alright, alright, I still have to take birth photos of Sophia and my son. She wants a doctor? I’ll send someone.” My mother-in-law hung up, gripping my hand tightly. “Don’t be afraid, Joanna, the doctor will be here soon.” I clutched my belly, feeling the life inside weakening. Thinking of my past life, my children sewn inside me by Julian, suffocated to death. I trembled all over, pulling my mother-in-law’s hand, speaking with difficulty. “Mother, three years ago, my father went into a coma to save Julian. You promised me you’d treat me like your own daughter, and if Julian mistreated me, you’d help me divorce him.” “I beg you, let me divorce him. I won’t stand in the way of his beloved woman’s son taking power. I just want my children to be born safely.” Chapter 7 My mother-in-law was already in tears, nodding repeatedly. “Although it was to repay your father’s life-saving grace, I only said I’d adopt you as a goddaughter. Confessing and proposing was all Julian’s own doing. He loved you so much, how did it come to this? It’s all that bitch Sophia’s doing. If she hadn’t suddenly appeared, you wouldn’t be like this.” I smiled tragically. Yes, childhood sweethearts, first love, how did it become like this? The man who blushed at his coming-of-age ceremony, saying he’d love me forever and would deserve a thousand cuts if he betrayed me. Now he’s cutting me into a thousand pieces for another woman. “Please, Mrs. Sterling,” I said through gritted teeth, word by word. Listening to my weak pleas, she finally nodded. “Okay! When you got married, I made him sign a divorce agreement just in case you drifted apart, so I could help you get away. I’ll go back and process it urgently right now!” “Tomorrow, I’ll announce that you are my sole heir. As for that ungrateful son, I won’t acknowledge him anymore!” My mother-in-law left immediately to handle the matter. I lay on the hospital bed, pain flooding my abdomen, wailing. The young assistant left by my mother-in-law anxiously waited for the doctor sent by Julian. Finally, someone came. But it wasn’t a doctor, it was a delivery guy. Seeing the bloody scene in the delivery room, he awkwardly handed over a bag. A sanitary pad and a band-aid fell out. “Mr. Sterling said it’s just postpartum lochia, not life-threatening. Tell her to wipe it herself and stop disgusting him with this stuff.” The assistant cried, smashing the bag. “Madam, I’ll take you to a hospital in another city right now. You must hold on.” I wailed continuously, my vision went black, and I finally passed out. Chapter 8 I woke up to a bucket of freezing water dumped on me. Before me was Julian’s disgusted face. “Stop pretending now that you’re awake,” he looked down at me. “You knew I was announcing the heir and Sophia’s status tomorrow, yet you made a scene going to a hospital in the next city. Do you want everyone to think Sophia is bullying you?” Sophia stood behind him holding the baby, tears streaming down her face, looking pitiful. “Madam, I know you hate me. But revenge on me is one thing, why did you have your mother-in-law try to take my child?” “The assistant was shouting before being dragged away, saying your mother-in-law went back to process documents to have my child adopted by you, saying I’m not fit to be the heir’s mother…” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I could only shake my head with all my might, trembling and begging: “I… didn’t… take me to the hospital… the babies… can’t hold on…” “Lying again!” Julian frowned impatiently. “My mom left the hospital in a hurry and brought lawyers to work overnight. Wasn’t that your doing? You think stealing Sophia’s child will secure your position as the heir’s mother?” “Didn’t you give birth yesterday? Why pretend to be critically ill in labor? Trying to trick me into pitying you? Dream on!” My whole body was in agony. The blood below had dried, sticking to my skin, emitting a strong stench. Chapter 9 Sophia covered her mouth and retched, eyes teary: “Sister, you know I can’t stand the smell of blood after giving birth, yet you refuse to clean up. Are you trying to make me faint on purpose?” She cried until her face was pale, shrinking into Julian’s arms, provoking pity. “Look at you now!” Julian looked disgusted. “Like a madwoman, stinking. Such an embarrassment!” He waved his hand, ordering bodyguards to pour bucket after bucket of cold water on me until I was pale and shivering, completely hypothermic, before he told them to stop. Sophia nestled in his arms, crying and begging: “Madam, I beg you, don’t separate me from my child… If you insist on taking my son, I’ll jump out this window!” She acted like she was going to jump, and Julian quickly held her back. Finally furious, he turned around, kicked away my hand grasping his pant leg, and leaned down to shout coldly: “Don’t think you can stay the heir’s mother by manipulating my mom. I’ve already locked down the old mansion. No matter what you plan, it won’t work!” “As for you—I warned you so many times not to bully Sophia and her child, but you wouldn’t listen! Since that’s the case, I have to use special measures.” He turned sharply, ordering the bodyguards coldly: “She drove Sophia to almost jump off a building; she should pay the price. Go, pull her father’s oxygen tube and throw him off the building!” Chapter 10 “Julian Sterling!” I screamed, tearing my throat. “Are you crazy! That’s my father! He saved your life!!” “So what!” Julian sneered. “To force you into a wealthy family, to make your child the future heir of Sterling Enterprises. He schemed to save me, used that favor to force me to marry you. Now you’re married into wealth, and I got you pregnant. If you can’t give birth to my first child, that’s your own uselessness. I’ve repaid my debt. I owe you nothing!” “Do it!” I threw myself at the bodyguards, trying to stop them, but was kicked to the ground. The blood that had dried below suddenly gushed out due to the violent impact, like a burst dam, instantly staining the entire floor red. I screamed in agony, curling into a ball. Julian was about to drag me, but suddenly he saw my high swollen belly exposed by the beating, and then the floor full of crimson. His face turned pale. He subconsciously rushed to my side, held me, and turned to question Sophia. “What’s going on?! I put you in charge of Joanna’s delivery. Didn’t you say she gave birth successfully yesterday and the child was sent to the nursery?!” “Then why is her belly still so big?! Why is she still bleeding!!!” Chapter 11 Sophia’s face changed slightly. But her eyes darted around, and she quickly squeezed out tears, crying as she took out her phone: “Madam did give birth yesterday, the child has been in the nursery.” “I knew Madam would try to make things difficult for me… so I specifically asked the doctor to take a video of the child.” She handed over the phone. On the screen was a baby clearly a month old. The video was crude, obviously fake. But Julian believed it with just a glance. The next second, he furiously lifted me from the ground and slammed me onto the cold, hard floor. The back of my head hit heavily, blood spraying instantly. “You dare lie to me!” He roared. “To make me softhearted, you even faked a belly and blood?! How disgusting, how cheap are you!” “Think I’ll fall for it this time? Dream on!” He lifted his leg and kicked my stomach mercilessly, again and again. Blood and screams splashed with every impact. “Ah… no… don’t…” I begged with a torn throat, but my body grew colder and stiffer. Until I had no strength left to beg, I could only curl up in my own pool of blood, trembling silently. He threw off his bloodstained jacket, turning to Sophia with an apologetic face. “Sorry, Sophia, for making you smell this disgusting scent. I’ll deal with her. After that, I’ll take you to an island for our honeymoon, as compensation for wrongfully blaming you, okay?”

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1 In my last life, I was the queen of the paparazzi. I knew where all the bodies in Hollywood were buried, and eventually, the corporate overlords buried me. Reborn, I became the one-woman rumor mill of a backwoods town called Hickory Hollow. Who’s chicken went missing, which husband was cheating—I knew it all. Then Penelope, the fake heiress, decided to launch her acting career. Her wealthy parents, terrified that I—the real daughter, their dirty little secret—would blow up their perfect lives, came hunting for me. They tracked me down in the dead of night and shoved a non-disclosure agreement in my face, a contract promising I’d never try to reclaim my birthright. “Take this fifty thousand dollars and rot in the mud where you belong. If you get in Penny’s way, we’ll end you.” On the video call, Penelope was already crying, her tears perfectly framed. “Sister, you’re only losing a family, but I can’t lose my dream!” I just smiled and quietly started a live stream. “Fifty grand? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what a trending topic costs these days?” “I’ve already compiled all your family’s dirty laundry into a PowerPoint presentation.” “Now, give the camera a big smile. I’ve already got tomorrow’s headline picked out.” “‘Murder for Hire: Hollywood Moguls silenced their real daughter to launch a star.’ How does that sound?” … “You’re asking for it. Smash her phone!” Arthur Preston shot a look at his bodyguards, and the two men in black suits started towards me. I didn’t flinch. I just tweaked the beauty filter on my stream. The viewer count instantly rocketed past two hundred thousand, the live chat scrolling too fast to read. 【Whoa, is this a real-life billionaire meltdown? This is better than reality TV!】 【Isn’t that Arthur Preston, the CEO of Preston Global? And is that former A-lister Eleanor Vance with him?】 Just as a bodyguard’s hand reached for me, I sidestepped and yelled at the top of my lungs. “Help! The city slickers are here to kill us all!” On cue, the Hickory Hollow Senior Squad, who had been hiding along the fence line, made their grand entrance. Old Mrs. Gable led the charge, followed by a squad of seven or eight senior citizens, average age eighty-five and up. In perfect sync, they all threw themselves at the bodyguards’ feet. “Oh, the humanity! They’re killing us! My back, my hip, my kneecap!” The bodyguards froze, dumbfounded. What could they do? One wrong move and they’d be paying off a new beachfront condo. Arthur’s hands were shaking with rage. “You peasants! Get out of my way!” I seized the moment, aiming my phone’s camera right at his contorted face. I smirked. “You all see this? The true face of the one percent.” “Since Mr. Preston is in such a hurry to shut me up, let’s speed things up.” With a tap of my finger, the PowerPoint slide changed. There was Arthur, his arm wrapped around a young model, his hand resting somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be. I had helpfully watermarked the photo with the date, time, location, and even the hotel booking confirmation. The live chat exploded. 【SAVAGE! The receipts are pristine!】 【Isn’t that the model who just debuted from that reality show? So he was her sugar daddy!】 【Go Arthur, still got it in ya. A wife at home and a side piece on the road.】 Arthur’s face went from crimson to a ghastly shade of purple. He clutched his chest, gasping for air. Eleanor shrieked and lunged at me, her nails out. “You little bitch! How dare you photoshop these lies!” I simply played a video. The clip showed Eleanor at a high-end gentleman’s club. She was shoving the keys to a Porsche down the pants of a young male model, her laughter echoing, all her polished Hollywood poise gone. Arthur stared at his wife in disbelief. Eleanor guiltily looked away. The carefully crafted image of Hollywood’s perfect couple shattered into a million pieces, live for all the world to see. I flashed a peace sign at the camera. “Don’t go anywhere, folks. This is just the appetizer.” “Penelope’s plastic surgery records and her ‘casting couch’ audition tapes are up next.” “Spam the chat with a ‘1’ if you want to see it. If we hit a million likes, I drop it right now!” The screen was instantly flooded with a waterfall of【1】. Penelope, who was still on the video call, went pale with terror. I stared at her through the screen, my voice dripping with ice. “You said you couldn’t lose your dream, right? Was your dream to sleep your way through every director in Hollywood?” Penelope screamed and disconnected the call. Seeing the situation spiral out of control, Arthur fumbled for a bottle of nitroglycerin pills and poured them into his mouth. “Let’s go! Now!” he barked at his bodyguards, trying to retreat. I picked up the check from the ground, tore it into tiny pieces, and flung them against the window of their departing Maybach. “Take your fifty grand with you! It’s not that I think your money’s dirty—I’m worried it’s cursed!” My adoptive parents were huddled in a corner, trembling. My mother tugged at my sleeve, her voice shaking. “Lexi, dear, those are your real parents. Did we just… cause a lot of trouble?” I patted her calloused hand, a pang of sorrow in my heart. “Mom, they’re not parents. They’re wolves. And the only way to deal with wolves is with a shotgun.” That night, a cease-and-desist letter from Preston Global’s lawyers was posted online. My streaming account was banned from all platforms for privacy invasion and malicious slander. Banned? They had no idea who they were dealing with. In my past life, I was the undisputed queen of the paparazzi. I dragged an old box out from under my bed. It was filled with everything I’d been preparing since I was a kid. Dozens of backup accounts. Contact information for hundreds of media influencers. I switched to a new account. My new handle: The Hollow’s Herald. My bio was a single, chilling sentence: 【Don’t go to sleep. The truth is coming.】 2 The Prestons’ PR team was good. I’ll give them that. Overnight, the narrative completely flipped. #LexiTheExtortionist# and #LexiUngratefulDaughter# were the top trending topics. An army of bots and paid trolls flooded the internet, painting me as a money-grubbing monster who would even blackmail her own parents. Penelope posted a photo set of herself doing charity work at an orphanage. Her caption read: Even though I’ve been hurt, seeing these children’s smiles reminds me that there is still good in the world. Her comments section was a sea of sympathy. Someone even doxxed my adoptive parents, posting their address online. The next morning, when my mom went to the town market to sell eggs, she was pelted with rotten vegetables. She came home with a hand pressed to her forehead, blood trickling through her fingers. “Lexi, I’m fine, honey. I just tripped and fell.” She forced a smile, trying not to worry me. A firestorm of rage ignited within me, searing its way to the top of my skull. I had planned to play the long game with them. But if they wanted to die on this hill, I was more than happy to bury them there. I opened my laptop, my fingers flying across the keyboard, typing out strings of code. In my past life, I’d taught myself to hack to get scoops. I was no master, but breaking into the eighteen-year-old system of a maternity clinic? Child’s play. An old nursing log. A grainy backup of a security tape. I packaged them together and uploaded them to my new account. The title was simple and brutal. The Abandoned Heiress: Lost or Left for Dead? The video showed Eleanor, eighteen years younger, looking down at a baby in a bassinet with utter disgust. “Cry, cry, cry, that’s all you do! You’re giving me a headache. Was this damn baby born just to ruin my life?” Arthur stood beside her, holding a piece of paper. It was a chart from a so-called psychic. “This child is a curse. She will bring ruin to this family. A jinx sent from hell. If we keep her, we’re all doomed.” “The psychic said we can’t keep her. Tonight’s a blizzard. We’ll leave her somewhere far away.” The footage cut to a road-side security camera. Arthur, holding a swaddled infant, tossed her into a snowbank and walked away without a second glance. That baby was me. The “psychic” was a charlatan who was later jailed for fraud. And Penelope? She was the “good luck charm” they adopted on his recommendation. The video went viral. The internet erupted. 【MONSTERS! These people are absolute monsters!】 【It’s the 21st century and people are still abandoning babies because of some bogus psychic’s prediction?】 【Leaving a newborn in a snowstorm in sub-zero temperatures? That’s attempted murder!】 The same users who had been cursing my name a moment ago were now my staunchest defenders. Penelope’s comments section was a war zone, with thousands calling her a parasite who built her life on a dead baby’s future. I immediately released the second part of my attack: a series of side-by-side photos. Left: Eighteen-year-old Penelope on a luxury yacht for her birthday, wearing a fifty-thousand-dollar custom gown. Right: Eighteen-year-old me in a patched-up winter coat, helping my adoptive father collect scrap metal in a blizzard, my hands raw and red like beets. Left: A designer handbag Penelope casually discarded, which was worth more than my adoptive family’s income for five years. Right: Me, carrying a fifty-pound sack of potatoes for six miles just to save two dollars on bus fare. The stark visual contrast was more powerful than any words. Public sympathy surged. 【I’m crying. Lexi has been through so much.】 【Who’s the real monster here? The whole Preston family is rotten to the core!】 When the stock market opened, Preston Global’s shares immediately plummeted, wiping out billions in value. My phone rang. It was Arthur. This time, his voice held none of its previous arrogance, only a weary, pleading tone. “Lexi, it was all a misunderstanding. I was tricked back then.” “How about this? I’ll give you five million dollars. You take down the videos, and we can come home and talk this out.” Five million? In my last life, I might have been tempted. Now, it just made me feel sick. “I don’t think I’ll be coming home, Dad.” “The psychic said I was a jinx, bad for your finances.” “Looks like your luck really did run out, didn’t it?” I hung up and blocked his number. Outside, my mom was dabbing antiseptic on her forehead. I walked over and gently took the cotton swab from her. “Does it hurt, Mom?” She shook her head. “Lexi, can we just stop fighting? I’m so scared you’ll get hurt.” I wrapped my arms around this frail, small-town woman. “Don’t be scared, Mom. You protected me my whole life. Now, it’s my turn to protect you.” 3 Arthur Preston was clearly desperate. He dropped the loving-father act and went straight to hiring thugs. The next morning, before the sun was up, a deafening roar shook the entire town awake. A dozen bulldozers rolled up to the edge of town, led by my dear brother, Sterling Preston. “Tear it down! I want this whole dump leveled!” The bulldozer’s shovel rose high and then smashed down on the stone sign at the town entrance. With a deafening crack, the sign, our town’s landmark, crumbled to dust. I frantically tried to start a live stream, but the signal was jammed! The bulldozers then plowed into the orchards—over a hundred acres of ripe pumpkins and fruit trees, the town’s entire livelihood for the year. Old Mr. Henderson ran out, screaming, clutching a giant pumpkin. “No! You can’t! This is all we have!” A bodyguard rushed him, kicking him square in the chest. Mr. Henderson went flying, landing hard in the mud. The pumpkin shattered, its bright orange guts splattering everywhere. “Mr. Henderson!” I screamed, my eyes burning with rage as I tried to run to him, but two burly men blocked my path. Mrs. Gable and the Senior Squad tried to form a human barricade. Sterling just sneered and snapped his fingers. “Release the dogs!” Two massive, snarling dogs, as tall as a man’s waist, leaped from a truck and charged the elderly crowd. One of them latched onto Mrs. Gable’s leg, its teeth sinking deep. Blood instantly soaked through her pants. Her screams tore through the morning air. “Help! Somebody help!” The townspeople scattered in terror. The sounds of crying, shouting, and barking dogs created a symphony of chaos. A group of tattooed thugs stormed my house, smashing everything in sight, even tearing the stove from the wall. My dad tried to protect my computer—my only evidence. A goon brought a crowbar down on his leg. A sickening crack echoed through the room. My father’s scream pierced my eardrums. “Dad!” I tried to lunge forward, but Sterling grabbed me by the hair, yanking me back. “Lexi, I thought you were so tough? Thought you were a big shot streamer?” “Why don’t you stream this?” He stomped on my dad’s broken leg, grinding his heel into the shattered bone. My dad’s face was slick with sweat, but he bit his lip, refusing to cry out. “Lexi… run…” he gasped. My mom was on her knees, begging for mercy, but a bodyguard grabbed her by the hair and dragged her away. The town mayor tried to call the police, but Sterling smashed his phone to pieces. “I’ve decided I want this land for a new development,” Sterling announced. “Anyone who calls the cops is an enemy of the Preston family! I’ll make sure their entire family disappears!” Pure, unadulterated rage consumed me. I pulled the pepper spray from my sleeve and emptied the canister into Sterling’s face. “Ah! My eyes!” he shrieked, clawing at his face. I broke free, grabbed a loose brick, and charged at him, ready to die fighting. But it was hopeless. A group of them swarmed me, pinning me to the ground. Sterling, his eyes red and swollen, staggered towards me like a madman. He took a cigarette from one of his men. “Look closely,” he hissed, taking a long drag. “This is what happens to those who help you.” “These peasants are dying because of you!” He flicked the lit cigarette into a nearby haystack. Flames erupted, roaring towards the sky. That was our home. The home my parents had built with their own two hands. I watched the fire reflect in their despairing eyes, and my heart shattered. It was my fault. I had brought this on them. I had been so naive, underestimating the depths of their cruelty, the ruthlessness of their power. Sterling motioned to one of his men, who produced a syringe. “Give her a shot. Take her with us.” My consciousness began to fade. The last thing I saw was Mrs. Gable, twitching in a pool of her own blood. The last thing I saw was my father’s mangled leg. The last thing I saw was the fire devouring everything I had ever loved. Darkness closed in. The same helpless feeling from my past life washed over me. Was I reborn just to bring ruin and death to even more innocent people?

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1 It was New Year’s Eve. I’d just dropped off my last ride when a G-Wagon rear-ended me. The driver was Serena Croft, a ghost from my past. She stormed over, her impatience shifting to disbelief as she looked at me. “Ethan Vance… are you a man or a ghost?” she whispered. I slid my driver’s license forward. “You have the wrong person, ma’am.” Her eyes sharpened. “Don’t play dumb. I’d know you if you were ash.” Though her voice was harsh, her eyes shone. I felt a bitter twist of old pain, but before I could speak, Julian Thorne appeared behind her. He glanced at my right leg with open contempt. “Serena, our parents are waiting. Just pay him and let’s go. We don’t need a cripple trying to cause trouble.” The words died in my throat. As a former stepbrother and an ex-lover, a disabled man with a rape conviction had no place in Serena Croft’s world. The other drivers, my co-workers, started gathering around, trying to smooth things over. “Ethan’s not the type to shake people down. He’s a good guy…” Another one tugged at my arm, whispering, “She’s driving a G-Wagon, man. Doesn’t matter whose fault it is, it’s our fault. Just apologize.” Serena’s knuckles were white where she gripped her dress. She stared at me, her eyes growing redder by the second. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” The glare of surrounding headlights made my head throb. I closed my eyes for a long moment, then spoke, my voice a rasp. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” In an instant, her expression shifted. The wounded sorrow vanished, replaced by the same sharp, aggressive woman I remembered from years ago. She turned her head with a cold laugh, then lunged forward and grabbed me by the collar, her eyes glinting dangerously. “John West, is it? You just wait.” She gave me one last deep, unreadable look before letting Julian wrap an arm around her waist and lead her back to their car. The engine roared to life. It wasn’t until the taillights disappeared down the street that I clutched my chest and finally let out a long, ragged breath. Five years. Five years since I’d last seen her. The pain I’d buried deep came coiling back like a venomous vine. Knowing her, this wasn’t over. Sure enough, at ten o’clock that night, the call came from the cab company. “John, don’t bother coming in tomorrow. We got a complaint about you driving with a disability. The company can’t take that risk.” “I’ll give you severance. The money will be in your account by morning. Consider this your last night.” I held my breath, clinging to a final, foolish sliver of hope. “Who filed the complaint?” “Some guy named Thorne. The woman was even worse. Threatened to report us to the IRS if we didn’t fire you.” A small-time operation like ours wouldn’t survive an audit. I forced a bitter laugh, said a few words, and hung up. Sitting in the damp, mildewed corner of my room, I felt like I was back in the sweltering heat of that afternoon five years ago. All because I had refused Serena’s demand that we start dating, she had gone to my father and told him I, her step-brother, had “improper thoughts” about her. That night, my father broke three steel pipes over my back in the grand hall of our family home. The skin split, the bones fractured. My step-mother cried and tried to intervene, but my father’s eyes were filled with a righteous fury. “I’ll beat the filth out of this animal until he learns his place!” As they carried me to the hospital, Serena followed behind, a triumphant smile on her face. “Julian was right. You have to be cruel to break someone who plays hard to get.” The pain was so blinding I didn’t fully register her words at the time. But from that day on, Julian Thorne became a constant presence in our lives. The next day, I called my old contacts, trying to find another driving gig. The answer was always the same sigh. “Did you piss someone off, Ethan?” “They hear your name and just shake their heads. They’re afraid of getting hit with an audit. Maybe you should lay low for a while?” I knew it was her. She was squeezing me, trying to force me to admit who I was, to come crawling back to her. I looked at my reflection in the mirror—prematurely gray, exhausted, a broken body. I was no longer the “Star of the Force,” the most promising young cop in Port Sterling. Was this twisted game of hers even worth playing? A loud, insistent knocking at the door startled me. I dragged my prosthetic into place and opened it. Serena stood there, a cigarette dangling from her fingers, her eyes cold. “Ethan Vance. You’re coming back home with me.” “We’ll forget the past. We can start over.” She reached out, her pale fingers tracing the line of my jaw, her expression one of profound love. The words were so absurd, I wanted to laugh. And I did. “The person you love most?” Serena nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes.” “Then what about Julian Thorne? The news of your engagement is everywhere.” I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. “I thought you were dead… They all said you died in that explosion. I had to…” “You had to what? Play the grieving lover while you were screwing Julian Thorne?” My words turned her helpless expression to pure rage. “You were dead! What else was I supposed to do?” she shrieked, her chest heaving. She looked exactly as she had the day she found out I’d enrolled in the police academy. Back then, we had been secretly dating, hiding our relationship from our parents. I couldn’t say if it was love that had grown over time or if she’d simply won me over with the taste of her mother’s homemade cooking. My father’s beating had backfired; after I healed, we became inseparable. She would laugh and run her fingers through my hair, sneak into my bed in the middle of the night to hold me. Those first green shoots of a future, of a life together, had just begun to break through the soil. And then they were crushed. The night I got my acceptance letter from the academy, she stared at me in shock. “You’re not going abroad with me?” I shook my head, trying to reason with her. “The family business will be yours one day. I want to inherit my uncle’s badge number.” I braced myself for a fight. Instead, she was unnervingly calm. She just told me to take care of myself and left for Europe alone. Years later, she returned. At her welcome-home party, she stood before our families and the city’s elite, pointing to her torn dress, and accused me of attempted rape. She showed them the bruises on her neck, on her arms. The marks of our lovemaking from the night before had become the weapons used to destroy me. My step-mother screamed at me, calling me a disgusting animal. My father, without asking a single question, slapped me across the face again and again. The city’s high society watched, pretending to intervene while whispering that I was playing some sick game, using a taboo relationship to get back at my father for his own past infidelities. I grabbed Serena by the throat, demanding to know why. Why was she lying? She whispered, so only I could hear, “Ethan, I’m doing this for your own good!” Then, her voice rose to a scream. “I have proof! I’m not lying!” Right on cue, Julian Thorne burst in with a lab report. “The DNA found on Serena’s person has been confirmed. It belongs to Ethan Vance.” Serena collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Brother, please… don’t keep doing this…” Overnight, I became a pariah. The step-brother molester. The rapist. The promising young cop was now a cockroach to be crushed. My father, in his rage, refused to listen to a word I said. He had me charged and put on trial, determined to see me “reflect” in a prison cell. In the end, it was Serena who signed the victim’s statement, agreeing to drop the charges. The day I was released, she was waiting for me, her laughter bordering on hysterical. “Stop fighting me. You can’t be a cop anymore. Just relax and be my man.” I stared at her beautiful, triumphant face and felt a chill cut straight to my bones. I turned away and pointed to the door of my small apartment. “Get out. You’re not welcome here.” She just laughed again, pulling a document from her purse and tossing it at me. “See this? I bought the building. This is my house now.” Her voice softened, pleading. “I told you, I still love you. If you just come back to me, Julian and I will only ever be friends.” My fists clenched so hard I bit through my tongue to keep from screaming. “What the hell do you want from me? Can you and Julian Thorne just get out of my life? Can you just leave?” “I don’t want to see you! Not for the rest of my life!” I used to think time healed all wounds. What a fucking lie. The betrayal of the woman I loved. The distrust of my own father. The death of my dream, the ruin of my body… Everything I was, everything I had, was destroyed by her. And she has the gall to stand here and tell me she still loves me? I laughed, a raw, broken sound that shook my whole body. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. The anger that had been rising in Serena’s eyes died when she saw the wetness on my cheeks. She reached out to touch me, but I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me! What’s it going to be this time? Are you going to accuse me of a second rape?” The color drained from her face. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. I held her gaze as I reached down and unfastened the buckle on my thigh. I yanked the prosthetic off and hurled it against the far wall of the hallway. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound echoed in the dead silence. Serena’s eyes widened in horror, fixed on the empty space where my right leg used to be. A strangled, gasping sound escaped her throat. My voice was a ragged whisper, laced with the bitter satisfaction of revenge. “Unfortunately, this broken body probably can’t give you what you want.” A moment later, a choked, sobbing question cut through the air. “Your leg… what happened to your leg?” Yes. What happened? I stood in the shadows, letting the tears and snot run freely down my face. By signing that statement, Serena had become the family’s savior. That same day, my father announced she would be the new heir to the family corporation. She ascended to the very pinnacle of Port Sterling’s elite. Not long after, I got a call. Serena had been kidnapped. I’d crossed paths with this crew before. I knew they were ruthless. They didn’t negotiate; they just killed their hostages. Her voice on the phone was terrified. “Ethan, I was wrong, I’m so sorry, please, come save me!” “I didn’t want you to be a cop because I was afraid you’d get killed… I love you so much, I couldn’t let you die…” I thought my heart was too scarred to feel anything. But hearing her cry, I softened. I contacted my old unit while I gathered the ransom money and went to the drop point alone. But when I got there, only Julian Thorne was waiting. “Where’s Serena?” I demanded. He turned slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ethan Vance, you really are a fool. The kidnapping was fake. The ransom was fake.” “The only real thing is your death. There’s a bomb three feet in front of you. Move, and it goes off.” My police instincts screamed. “Who are you?” He smiled. “Let’s just say I’m the drug lord you’ve been hunting. The one they call ‘Thorne.’” “You’ve been looking for me for so long. And here I was, right beside your precious Serena the whole time. In fact, turning you into a rapist? That was my idea.” He savored the look of horror on my face, then held out his phone. On the screen, Serena was straddling him, her face flushed with pleasure. In the video, Julian asked, “Aren’t you worried Ethan won’t come back tomorrow?” Serena laughed. “They won’t kill him. They’ll just rough him up a bit. He’s tough, he won’t die.” The rest of the video was a sickening mix of their moans and laughter. “While you were waiting for her back home,” Julian sneered, “we were in bed together every night in Europe. That little toy you bought her before she left came in very handy for me…” My hands balled into fists. “I’ll give you a chance,” he said magnanimously. “Call her. If you can convince her to come save you, I’ll let you go.” I looked at the smug bastard, dialed Serena’s number, and spoke the moment she answered. “Serena, listen to me. Julian is a liar. He’s a drug lord. He’s set a trap for me. Call the police, now!” There was a pause on the other end, then a cold laugh. “Ethan, stop trying to drive a wedge between Julian and me. Just because he helped me, you don’t have to slander him like this.” “So you’ll believe him, even if it means I die?” “Die first. Then we’ll talk.” She hung up. In my final moments, she chose him. Then, the bomb went off. “I survived,” I told the woman standing in my hallway, “but I lost a leg. I became ‘John West’ and lived like a stray dog. And now you’ve found me, just to grind me further into the dirt. Are you satisfied?” Compared to my calm, Serena was frantic. She shook her head, her voice trembling. “No… Julian wouldn’t do that…” People only believe what they want to believe. Even with me standing before her, a crippled wreck, she still believed him. But it didn’t matter anymore. I picked up my prosthetic. As I turned to leave, she grabbed my sleeve. “You can stay. I’ll go…” I was exhausted. The stump of my leg ached. I just turned and shut the door in her face. When I woke up, I wasn’t in my bed. I was in a deserted field. Julian Thorne smiled, squatting down beside me. “Ethan Vance, you’re a hard man to kill. But this time, you die for good.” He brought his foot down, grinding his heel into what was left of my right leg. Then the clubs and pipes began to fall. Pain crashed over me from all directions. The feeling of suffocation was absolute, my ribs splintering under the blows. I passed out, only to be woken by fresh agony. Every bone in my body screamed. My eyelids were glued shut with blood. My fingers twitched, closing around the tiny GPS locator hidden under my thumbnail. “This bastard cost us a lot of good men,” one of them snarled. “Can’t believe he’s still alive. Finish him!” Another kick slammed into my head. As my consciousness faded, I thought I heard Serena’s voice coming from a phone nearby. “Julian, Ethan’s leg… was that you?” “It was me,” he said. “But only because I love you so much…” There was a long silence on the phone, then a sigh. “Well, don’t do it again. I’ll send him some money to make up for it.” Hearing her pathetic, self-serving “compensation,” I closed my eyes and smiled. It was a smile of pure release. The South Precinct was only a five-minute drive from here. They weren’t getting away. Uncle, rest in peace. The man who killed you… I got him for you. It just cost me my life.

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