Category: English

I’m shallow. I like pretty things. Specifically, pretty boys. After asking out the class heartthrob, Asher Vance, for the 99th time, he still coldly rejected me. I overheard his friends laughing about it later. “Uh oh, Asher hesitated this time.” “I heard she wants to go to the same college as you.” “Are we going to be drinking at your wedding after graduation?” Asher threw a basketball at them in disgust. “Don’t associate me with that kind of shallow girl. It makes me sick.” On the first day of college, I bumped into Asher at the campus gate, holding a box of freshly baked cupcakes. His eyes lit up when he saw me, then he awkwardly looked away. “Don’t bake for me next time. I don’t like sweet things.” I looked past him at the campus crush standing not far away. Sigh. How do I explain to Asher that the person who loves sweet things is actually my boyfriend? Chapter 1 I’m an average girl. Average hair, average face, average everything. But that doesn’t stop me from appreciating beauty. As my mom always says: “Men are all the same anyway, so you might as well pick a handsome one. At least you won’t wake up in the middle of the night crying because there’s a beast lying next to you.” I took that to heart. Since I was little, I only chased the best-looking boys. If I couldn’t get the cutest boy in first period, I’d go for the one in second period. If that failed, third period. You get the idea. In high school, most guys hit that awkward puberty phase where their looks took a nose dive. Only Asher Vance stood out. He was breathtakingly handsome. So, naturally, I locked onto him. Asher was smart, handsome, and played the violin. When he stood on stage, eyes lowered, long fingers flying over the strings, he looked like a painting. After his performance, applause filled the auditorium. But the sound of my own heart beating was louder than anything else. The first time I confessed my feelings to Asher, he asked coldly: “Hazel, what do you like about me?” I tilted my head, thought about it seriously, and answered: “You’re the best-looking guy in school.” He sneered. “Everyone who chases me says that.” “Too bad. I hate girls like you the most.” Damn. Even when he was mocking me, he was beautiful. I was so mesmerized by his face that I didn’t really process what his little mouth was saying. I don’t know which part annoyed him. From that day on, he hated me. He hated the warm milk I slipped into his desk every morning. He hated seeing me hand him water on the basketball court. He hated our “accidental” encounters even more. But for that face, I endured it all. I was Asher’s shadow for three years. I confessed so many times I lost count. And unsurprisingly, I was rejected every time. My best friends were frustrated. “Hazel, this isn’t how you chase a guy. The internet calls this ‘simp behavior’.” Is it? So be it. I scratched my head calmly. They don’t understand. I simp because the view is worth it. Chapter 2 It was Asher’s birthday. I stood outside the private room of the karaoke bar, holding a carefully wrapped gift. The conversation inside drifted out clearly. “Ash, be honest, do you have feelings for Hazel?” I stopped, eavesdropping through the crack in the door. “Uh oh, he’s silent.” “I knew you hesitated when you rejected her last time.” Someone started evaluating me. “Hazel’s face is mid, but she’s got a great body. Plus, she’s a total simp, easy to control.” “Ash likes the ‘butterface’ type. Lights off, it’s all the same, right? It’s all about the feel. Hahaha.” “I heard she applied to the same college as you.” “Are we going straight to your wedding after graduation?” The laughter grew louder. Thud. A basketball slammed into someone. A grunt of pain, then silence. The noisy room went dead quiet. Asher stood up. On that beautiful face, his expression was twisted with anger. “Great body? Easy to control?” “If you like her so much, date her yourself.” “Don’t associate me with that kind of shallow girl. It makes me sick.” I looked down at the canvas bag in my hands. It had started raining on my way here. I didn’t have an umbrella, so I was soaked. But the bag was dry, protected in my embrace. Inside was the sheet music for Chopin’s Tristesse (The Farewell Waltz). It was the birthday gift I had spent forever choosing for Asher. I wanted to tell him that even after graduation, we would meet again at our dream college. If he was willing, we would start a new chapter. There would be no farewell. “My bad…” “Hazel isn’t good enough for you, Ash. I shouldn’t have said anything.” The guys inside were apologizing. Asher’s friends always had trash mouths. But his answer still echoed in my mind, refusing to fade. Suddenly, it all felt pointless. That face I could stare at forever… how could it say such hurtful things? I gently placed the music book on the floor, turned around, and left without looking back. Chapter 3 The next day, I called in sick for the morning. As soon as I pulled out my books in the afternoon, Asher walked over. He knocked on my desk. “Hazel, homework.” His tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction. “Finals are right around the corner. Where were you yesterday? I didn’t see you.” “I came to school yesterday. I turned in my homework on time too.” I didn’t understand where his interrogation was coming from. “Yeah, you were at school, but yesterday was my birthday. You didn’t come to my…” I couldn’t help but interrupt him. “You hate me so much. Shouldn’t you be happier that I wasn’t at your party?” My voice sounded like a broken gong from being sick. Asher choked on his words. He froze, his anger dissipating. “Your voice… were you sick yesterday?” The next second, Asher tossed a box of medicine onto my desk. “Don’t run around after school. Getting sick now will affect your finals.” He paused. “Don’t misunderstand. As class president, it’s my duty to monitor everyone’s study condition.” “You said you wanted to get into Stanford.” Stanford had always been Asher’s dream. Even though Berkeley was a better fit for me, I had always planned to apply to Stanford, to be someone standing in his bright future. But I didn’t think that way anymore. I decided to apply to Berkeley. But I didn’t plan on telling Asher I changed my mind. I just gave a perfunctory answer: “Thanks, Mr. President. I’ll work hard.” Asher smirked with satisfaction. He instinctively raised his hand, as if he wanted to pat my head. Or maybe I was imagining it. The hand hovered awkwardly in mid-air, then dropped back to his side. Before leaving, he dropped a confusing sentence: “If you have any math questions, you can ask me anytime.” “Helping you get into Stanford is also my duty as class president.” He emphasized the last few words, as if worried I would get the wrong idea. Or maybe he was saying it to himself. Chapter 4 After finals, everyone got busy. Graduation, applications, results… Summer moved forward methodically, accompanied by the endless drone of cicadas. Near the start of the semester, my best friend dragged me to a high school reunion. Seeing me, she screamed: “Omg! You got a perm! It’s so pretty!” “When you get to Stanford, you’re going to dazzle Asher, that poser.” I felt a little guilty. “Actually, I didn’t apply to Stanford. I got into Berkeley.” “And I have a boyfriend. We’re just waiting for school to start to meet up.” Her eyes widened in shock. “You chased Asher for three years, dropped him just like that, and got a boyfriend this fast?!” “How did you meet?” Under her interrogation, I confessed: “His name is Julian. I saw him in the comments section of the Berkeley confessions page.” Thinking of Julian’s handsome face, I blushed slightly. “I didn’t want to move on so fast, but he’s just too good-looking!” “And Julian was so easy to chase. We added each other, chatted for a few days, and he said yes when I confessed.” My friend squeezed closer, demanding to see Julian’s photo. “Holy crap. I approve of this marriage. He is genuinely hot!” Just then. A familiar, clear male voice sounded from behind. Asher stood behind me, a rare, warm smile on his lips. “Hazel, I heard you got in too?” “Congratulations.”

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My husband, David, had been overseas for six months on a research fellowship, leaving me to manage life and our daughter, Lily, on my own. The daily school run was my responsibility. Jenna, the mother of Lily’s best friend, asked if we could carpool. She said we could look out for each other, and I agreed. She was a warm, friendly woman, always ready with a bag of snacks for the girls when she climbed into the car. But there was one thing about her that grated on my nerves. She had a habit of prying, subtly digging for details about my job, my income, and even whether or not my husband and I were getting a divorce. I had to draw a line. I told her to respect my privacy, or she’d have to find another ride. She backed off for a couple of days, but then I stumbled upon a gossip thread on a local community forum. [DEEP DIVE] The Porsche-driving soccer mom in my neighborhood, living all alone. Rich, dumb, and waiting for a new man. Got all the inside info, DM for details, highest bidder wins. A few days later, a black sedan started tailing my car. And Jenna, sitting in my passenger seat, was secretly tapping out a message on her phone. 1 The post was trending. The replies were a cesspool of vulgar comments. The original poster’s username was “GoWithTheFlow,” and their IP address was local. The post laid out the “subject’s” details with unnerving accuracy: Drives a white Porsche Cayenne. Husband’s abroad, probably abandoned her. Lives in The Grandview Estates. Drops her kid off at Bright Horizons Academy every morning at 8 AM. It even described the little teddy bear charm hanging from my daughter’s backpack. But the detail that sent a chill down my spine was the photo. It was taken from the passenger’s seat. A candid shot of my profile and my phone resting on the center console. The screen was lit up, showing my chat window with David. Though it was slightly blurred, I recognized the trench coat I was wearing. I had worn it last Wednesday. And last Wednesday, the only person who had been in my passenger seat was Jenna. My fingers went cold as I held the phone, not from fear, but from a white-hot rage. I had been nothing but kind to her. Her house wasn’t far from mine, and with her husband working as a long-haul trucker, I knew it wasn’t easy for her to raise her daughter alone. When she’d complained about her electric scooter being too cold in the winter and asked for a ride, she’d offered to pay for gas. I refused the money, thinking it was no trouble to help a friend. I had treated her like a friend. She had treated me like a product for sale. The last line of the post was chillingly clear: Interested parties, DM for her detailed schedule and opportunities for an introduction. Success guaranteed. Price negotiable. Someone had replied: For real? Aren’t rich women like her hard to get? “GoWithTheFlow” had answered: Don’t worry, her husband’s gone. She’s lonely. With the right moves, she’s an easy catch. This one’s a whale. One score and you’ll be set for three years. I took a deep breath, screenshot everything, and turned off my phone. The next morning, I pulled up to the curb outside my building as usual. Jenna appeared, holding her daughter Daisy’s hand, a bright, sunny smile on her face. “Morning, Megan!” She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, a practiced move by now. She handed me an insulated bag. “I made some brown sugar muffins this morning. They’re still warm. For Lily’s breakfast.” If I hadn’t seen that post, I would have thought she was a thoughtful, caring mother. But now, looking at the crinkles around her smiling eyes, all I felt was disgust. “Thanks, but Lily already ate,” I said coolly, not taking the bag. Jenna paused for a fraction of a second, then smoothly retracted her hand and buckled her seatbelt. “Hey, Megan, shouldn’t you get your car serviced? I think that little light on the dashboard is on.” She pointed, leaning forward, but her eyes darted toward my phone. I picked up the phone and placed it face down in the armrest compartment. “It’s not on. You’re seeing things.” Jenna gave a weak laugh and pulled out her own phone, her thumbs immediately starting to fly. As we merged onto the main road, I watched her in the rearview mirror. Her fingers moved at lightning speed across the screen, her expression focused, a strange, knowing smirk occasionally touching her lips. At the same time, I noticed it. A black Hyundai sedan in the mirror, keeping a steady distance behind us. I changed lanes. It changed lanes. I sped up. It sped up. The light ahead turned red, and I eased onto the brake. Jenna suddenly looked up, her voice laced with an odd urgency. “You’re such a steady driver, Megan. But this intersection is a real accident hotspot. You should be careful.” The words were barely out of her mouth when a deafening crash jolted the car. The impact was violent. My seatbelt dug hard into my chest, and from the back seat, Lily screamed in terror. We’d been rear-ended. 2 My first instinct was to twist around and soothe my daughter. Once I was sure she wasn’t hurt, I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out. The car behind us was the black Hyundai. Its front end was crumpled, pressed tightly against my rear bumper. The driver’s door opened, and a man in a black leather jacket stepped out. He looked to be in his early thirties, his hair slicked back with too much gel, a tacky gold chain around his neck. His eyes darted around nervously. He didn’t look at the damage first. He looked at me. There was something in his gaze that made my skin crawl. It was invasive, predatory. “Whoa, hey, beautiful! My bad, my bad! Totally spaced out for a second!” he exclaimed, his voice overly loud. He moved closer, and a wave of cheap cologne and stale cigarette smoke washed over me. I took a step back and pulled out my phone to take pictures. “You want to go through insurance, or handle this privately?” I asked. Before the man could answer, Jenna burst out of the passenger side. “Oh my God, look at this mess!” She ran up to the man, pretending to inspect the damage before turning to me with a frantic look. “Megan, this is going to cost a fortune to fix! I don’t think this gentleman did it on purpose, and he seems really sorry. Maybe we can just talk it out?” I watched her performance with cold eyes. Not once had she asked if the child in the car was okay. The man in the leather jacket immediately jumped in. “Yeah, beautiful, look, I’m in a huge hurry. This is your fault… no, wait, my fault. It’s all my fault, I admit it.” He pulled out his phone and held a QR code up to me. “I don’t have any cash on me, and I… uh… I don’t have insurance. How about this? We can connect on social media. You send me the bill for the repairs, and I’ll transfer the money right over. Promise. I’m in construction, this is nothing to me.” No insurance? A businessman in construction with no car insurance? The lie was almost laughable. “I’m not adding you. We’ll go through the police.” I turned to dial 911. Jenna grabbed my hand. “Megan, don’t be so difficult! The man said he’ll pay. Calling the cops is such a hassle. We’ll have to get damage assessments, and we’re already late getting the kids to school.” As she spoke, she shot me a desperate look, as if to say, He’s cute, just play along. “He seems like a nice guy, and he’s not bad looking,” she hissed under her breath. “Just make a new friend. You never know when you’ll need one.” Her voice was sharp, grating. I shook her hand off. “If you’re such good friends, why don’t you pay for him?” Jenna’s face fell, her expression turning ugly. “What is wrong with you? I’m trying to help you out here!” Seeing his opening, the man swaggered a step closer, his tone becoming sleazy. “Hey, gorgeous, don’t be like that. Adding me online won’t hurt. I’ve always heard that women who drive Cayennes have class. Now I see it’s true.” As he spoke, he reached out to put a hand on my shoulder. I twisted away, pointing a sharp finger at the traffic camera on the corner. “Back off. This entire intersection is under surveillance. You touch me, and this stops being about a fender-bender.” His hand froze in mid-air. A flicker of malice crossed his face before he plastered on the same smarmy grin. “Alright, alright, no touching. So what’s the plan?” “I’m calling the police.” I dialed the number right in front of them. Jenna stomped her foot in frustration, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, “Stubborn bitch. No wonder you don’t have a man.” The police arrived quickly and determined the other driver was 100% at fault. Since he was uninsured, it would be a complicated process to get the money for repairs, requiring official assessments and legal claims. By the time we were done, an hour had passed. After dropping the kids at school, Jenna didn’t leave as she usually did. Instead, she lingered in the car. “Megan, that guy, Rick? I was looking at his social media. It’s all pictures of luxury cars and fancy watches. I think he might actually be a big shot.” She was scrolling through her phone. She had already added him. I ignored her and started the car. She kept rambling. “He told me he really admires independent women like you. He even said he wants to take you out to dinner to apologize. Come on, Megan. David’s been gone for so long. Don’t you ever just want… someone to talk to?” I slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt at the side of the road. Jenna lurched forward, startled. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” “Get out,” I said. “What?” “Don’t get in my car again. We’re not on the same route anymore.” Jenna’s eyes widened in disbelief. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so blunt. “Megan, what the hell is your problem? I’m trying to hook you up, and this is the thanks I get? You kick me out? You think you’re better than everyone just because you drive a stupid Porsche?” I turned and stared directly into her eyes. “You know I drive a Porsche, Jenna. Not a garbage truck.” Her face turned a mottled shade of purple. “Fine, Megan. You think you’re so tough. We’ll see.” She slammed the door and stormed off.

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I grew up in the slums, surviving by digging through trash. On my eighteenth birthday, a barrage of comments appeared before my eyes. 【Damn, CEO Shen’s real daughter is still eating garbage. This experiment is brutal!】 【Seriously. To test his “nature vs. nurture” theory, Shen swapped his twin daughters. The real heiress grew up in the slums, while the adopted one lived as a princess in a mansion.】 【Now the adopted daughter, Aurora Lin, is worth billions, while the real one, Stella Lin, is still dumpster diving. The results are pretty clear!】 I wiped the grime from my hands. My gaze drifted to the massive LED screen on the luxury mall across the street. The face of “Aurora Lin” smiled down. A face identical to my own, advertising a high-end brand. 1 Her face was a portrait of laughter—exquisite, flawless, like a meticulously polished diamond. And I was a stone, covered in dust. 【The necklace she’s wearing today is the ‘Heart of the Deep Sea,’ auctioned for ninety million. CEO Shen bought it specially for her eighteenth birthday.】 【And what did Stella Lin get for her eighteenth birthday? Oh, a slap from her foster mother and being called a waste of money.】 【So tragic. The comparison is just brutal.】 The words on the screen were like needles, pricking my mind. I looked down at the half-eaten, moldy piece of bread in the trash can. My dinner for the night. A shrill voice cut through the air from behind me. “Stella Lin! Where the hell have you been? I told you to get soy sauce! Lazing around digging through trash for food again, are you?!” It was my foster mother, Martha. She charged at me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and slamming my head against the dumpster. “Just like your good-for-nothing dead mother! A worthless piece of trash! All you know is how to eat!” “Wasting our food all day long! Why don’t you just die!” The metal edge of the bin scraped against my temple. It hurt. The taste of blood filled my mouth. 【Here we go, the daily abuse.】 【This foster mother is something else. Where did CEO Shen even find such a horrible person?】 【For the sake of the experiment’s authenticity, of course. He needed the most hostile environment possible.】 I didn’t fight back. After eighteen years, I was used to it. When Martha was done yelling, she spat on me and sauntered off. “No dinner for you tonight! Get lost!” I steadied myself against the wall and slowly pulled myself up. A black Bentley pulled up silently in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing a perfectly made-up face. It was Aurora Lin’s chief assistant, a woman named Chloe. I’d seen her in countless business magazines, always with an air of superiority. Now, she pinched her nose, her eyes scanning me with disgust. “You’re Stella Lin?” I didn’t answer, just stared at her. 【Holy shit! The main event is here to deliver the final blow?】 【Nope, she’s here to deliver the humiliation. I remember this part, it’s about to get intense!】 Chloe took out an exquisitely packaged food container from the car and tossed it on the ground. Food spilled everywhere, mixing with the mud. “Miss Aurora was worried about you, afraid you’d be hungry.” She spoke in a gentle, cooing tone, as if soothing a pet. “She said these are leftovers from her banquet, specially packed for you.” “She also said you should be used to the taste. After all, everything from a garbage dump tastes the same, right?” She covered her mouth and giggled. “Oh, right. Miss Aurora is live-streaming right now. She wants you to say hello to her fans.” She turned her phone screen towards me. On the screen, Aurora sat in a pristine, lavish room, smiling sweetly at the camera. The comments in the live chat scrolled by at a frantic pace. 【Hahaha, Aurora is so kind, still thinking about her sister in the trash heap.】 【Oh my god, she’s so filthy. Get away from her!】 【Make her eat it! Make her get on the ground and eat! I want to watch!】 Aurora’s voice, laced with an innocent cruelty, came from the phone. “Stella, hurry up and eat. Don’t waste my kind gesture.” “Everyone’s watching. You don’t want to disappoint Dad, do you? He’s very interested in the results of this ‘environmental observation’.” Environmental observation. So that’s what it was. In their eyes, my life was just an observation. I looked at the food on the ground, then up at the face that was identical to mine. Slowly, so slowly, I crouched down. I picked up a piece of steak, caked in mud. Under the watchful eyes of Chloe and hundreds of thousands of people in the live stream. I brought it to my lips. Then, just as they were all watching in anticipation, I smiled. And I hurled that piece of steak right at the Bentley’s window. Grease instantly smeared across the expensive glass. Chloe’s smile froze on her face. 2 “Are you insane?!” Chloe’s shriek pierced the dim evening of the slum. She pointed a trembling finger at me, shaking with rage. “Do you have any idea how much this car costs? Can you afford to pay for it? You filthy, low-life piece of trash!” I ignored her tirade. I just stood up and walked towards her, one step at a time. I was filthy, reeking of the sour, rotting stench of the garbage dump. Chloe instinctively backed away until her back hit the cold metal of the car. “What do you want? I’m warning you, don’t do anything stupid!” 【YES! She’s finally fighting back!】 【Get her! That assistant is such a bully, I can’t stand her!】 【No, Stella, don’t! She’s Aurora’s lackey! If you touch her, Mr. Shen will not let you off easy!】 The comments were right to be worried. For the past eighteen years, I’d been beaten, humiliated, treated like a dog. I remember when I was seven, I had a fever so high I was on the verge of death. But Martha took the money for my medicine and used it to play mahjong. I lay on the cold floor, listening to the fireworks outside. The comments told me it was Aurora’s birthday. Her father, Julian Shen, had rented out all of Disneyland for her, with a fireworks display that lasted all night. I remember when I was twelve, I fainted at school from chronic malnutrition. My foster father, Mark, dragged me home, calling me a burden and telling me to go collect more bottles to sell. The comments told me that at the same time, Aurora was skiing in the Alps with a world champion as her private instructor. I remember when I was fifteen, I washed a classmate’s socks for a month in exchange for an old coat to get through the winter. When Martha saw it, she snatched it away to give to her own son and broke one of my ribs in the process. The comments told me that on the same day, Aurora’s closet was featured in a fashion magazine under the headline, “The Ever-Changing Wardrobe of the City’s Top Socialite.” Every single time, I had endured it silently. Because I knew that fighting back would only result in crueler treatment. But today was different. The moment I learned that everything I had suffered was just for an “experiment” to serve as someone else’s foil, to prove that I was inherently “inferior,” something inside me shattered completely. I walked up to Chloe and stopped. We were so close I could see the panic her expensive foundation couldn’t hide. I reached out my hand. She squeezed her eyes shut in fear. I didn’t hit her. I simply plucked the expensive fountain pen from her jacket pocket. A Montblanc, limited edition. I’d seen one before. Julian Shen had one on the cover of a business magazine. “What… what are you doing with my pen?” Chloe’s voice was trembling. I didn’t say anything. I just took the pen, turned, and walked to the front of the car. On the mirror-like hood, I carved, with force, three lines, one after the other. “MURDERER.” “PAY YOUR DEBTS.” “HEAVEN’S WRATH.” The sound of metal scraping against paint was sharp and piercing. Chloe’s face went from pale to ashen. “You… you…” She stammered, unable to form a complete sentence. On the other end of the live stream, Aurora had clearly seen what was happening. For the first time, her sweet voice was laced with genuine anger. “Stella Lin! Stop it! You’re ruining the birthday present Dad gave me!” Dad. The word sounded so natural coming from her lips, and so utterly ironic. I stopped carving and turned to the phone’s camera. For the first time in eighteen years, I was looking clearly, directly, into her world. “Tell Julian Shen.” My throat was dry, each word like sandpaper. “The experiment is over.” “Now, it’s my turn.” With that, I tossed the pen, now bent out of shape in my grip, back at Chloe. She shrieked as if she’d been burned and dropped it to the ground. 3 I turned and walked away, not once looking back at the defaced Bentley and the furious Chloe. 【Awesome! That was so satisfying! But I’m so scared for her!】 【Julian Shen is definitely going to lose it. That’s his precious adopted daughter!】 【Run, Stella! Find a place to hide!】 I didn’t run. This world was so big, yet there was no place for me. I went back to that place I was supposed to call “home.” The moment I walked in, Martha’s hand came flying at my face. “You little bitch! Where the hell have you been? Think you’ve grown wings, do you?” For the first time in eighteen years, I ducked. Martha froze, shocked that I would dare to dodge. “You dare defy me!” Her fury escalated. She lunged at me, claws out. Her son, Ben, a fifteen-year-old who was taller and heavier than me, charged in to grab me from behind. “Mom! Get her! We’ll beat this jinx to death today!” In the past, they would have pinned me to the ground, kicking and punching until they were tired. But today, I was done enduring. The second before Ben’s hands touched me, I sidestepped and kicked him hard in the knee. “Aaargh!” Ben howled in pain and collapsed, clutching his leg. Martha was stunned. “You… you dare hit my son!” I looked at her coldly. “He deserved it.” “You ungrateful brat! We raised you all these years for nothing!” Martha was trembling with rage. She grabbed a broom from the corner and swung it at my head. I didn’t dodge. I just reached out and caught the other end of the broomstick, holding it firm. We were at a stalemate. “Raised me for nothing?” I let out a laugh. It must have sounded ugly. “The orphan subsidy you get from the government every month… you haven’t spent a single penny of it on me, have you?” “I’ve been digging through trash to feed myself since I was six, and I have to give most of it to you, or I get beaten.” “The rent for this house? I pay for it. The food you eat? I buy it with money from selling plastic bottles.” “So who, exactly, is raising whom?” I had never said these words before. I thought that if I was obedient enough, I could earn a moment of peace. I was wrong. Mercy to wolves is cruelty to oneself. Martha’s face flushed red, then went pale. “You… you’re lying! We’ve been so good to you, and you slander us!” 【Hahaha, she’s panicking! Look at her!】 【Stella finally said it! I’ve been waiting for this!】 【Those two leeches deserve it!】 “We can go down to the community office and find out if I’m lying.” I yanked the broom from her grasp and threw it on the floor. “From today on, you won’t get another cent of my money.” “I’m terminating the lease on this place tomorrow. You can figure things out for yourselves.” With that, I turned and went into my tiny room, less than fifty square feet, and locked the door. I could hear Martha and Ben cursing and pounding on the door. “Stella Lin, you little animal! Get out here!” “You dare terminate the lease? I’ll break your legs!” I ignored them. I pulled out a rusty metal box from under my bed. Inside was every penny I had managed to save over the years. A total of three thousand, two hundred and six dollars and fifty cents. This was all I had to fight back with. 【That’s so little… what can she do with that?】 【Don’t lose hope! Stella’s knowledge is priceless! She knows more about recycling than anyone!】 【That’s right! She knows which circuit boards are the most valuable, which plastics sell for the highest price!】 The comments were encouraging me. I opened the tattered copy of the Recycling and Utilization of Renewable Resources Handbook, a treasure I’d found at a second-hand bookstore. I needed money. A lot of it. I needed a company. A company that would allow me to stand before Julian Shen. I didn’t want to be acknowledged by my family. I wanted to crush everything he was proud of under my feet. Just then, my beat-up phone rang. It was an unknown number. I hesitated for a moment, then answered. On the other end was the cold, emotionless voice of a man. “Stella Lin?” “I’m Julian Shen’s lawyer.” “Regarding the damage you caused to Miss Aurora Lin’s vehicle today, and the slander against Mr. Shen’s reputation, I am officially filing a lawsuit against you on behalf of my client.” “The compensation amount is three million dollars.” “Additionally, Mr. Shen asked me to relay a message.” The lawyer paused, his condescending tone practically dripping from the phone. “He said, since the game has started, you should play by the rules.” “He is very much looking forward to seeing what new tricks a rat like you, wallowing in the mud, can come up with.” The line went dead. Three million dollars. The number was like a mountain, crushing the air from my lungs. I looked at the crumpled three thousand dollars in my hand and laughed. Despair? No. Excitement. He had finally entered the game himself.

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Before the college entrance exams, the Billionaire’s heir was abruptly dumped by the campus queen. Gnawing on a plain bun, I approached him while he listlessly stared at his textbooks. “I look like her. Why don’t you chase me instead?” He was silent for a moment, then handed me the roses meant for her. I took his money with a clear conscience. I asked for a million a month; he sent two without a word. After we married, our intimacy was scheduled—four times a week, punctual, thorough, and attentive. Everyone said the young heir had found true love. Until one day, his assistant whispered to me: “That new secretary… I heard she was the campus queen back then. “Madam, Mr. Sterling seems very fond of her. He even gave her your favorite lounge…” 1 I went after Julian Sterling for the money. He was a hopeless romantic, willing to spend on his girlfriends. When I was starving and chewing on dry buns, I envied the campus queen, Chloe, wearing two-million-dollar earrings before even graduating. I couldn’t understand why she would dump the wealthy Julian for a scholarship student. So, when Chloe slapped Julian and walked away, I stopped her at the classroom door. “You really broke up?” She looked at my worn-out uniform with disdain and shook off my hand. “Yes, we broke up.” “Can I pursue him then?” She looked me up and down, laughing at my shabbiness. “Sure, go ahead. If you actually catch him, I’ll give you these earrings.” I stared at the earrings Julian had given her and nodded. But at the graduation party, when she saw Julian walk in with me on his arm, her smile froze. While Julian was in the restroom, she ordered a song for me. When the lyrics “cheating slut” played, the room went silent, everyone staring at me. “Sarah, you’re pathetic,” Chloe sneered. I knew what I was to Julian. But I still opened a bottle of wine and poured it all over Chloe’s head. I snatched her earrings. “A bet is a bet. If you didn’t want me to pursue him, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged to that poor boy.” “Sarah!” Chloe screamed and charged at me, but a strong force pulled me behind a back. Julian took the slap meant for me. He took me away from the bar and didn’t say a word all night. I think his heart was aching. I knew my place. I followed Chloe on Instagram. Every time she posted an outfit, I bought the same one. I wore them on our scheduled intimate nights. Every time he saw me wearing Chloe’s style, the emotion in his eyes was unreadable. I knew he secretly followed her too. Seeing me was like seeing his lost love. My best friend, Lily, was furious for me. “You’re his wife!” But I thought it was fine. I asked for a million a month; he sent two. I pushed my luck and asked for three. He sent five. Who cares about love when you live like this? I came from a loveless, penniless family. For a chance to make money, I would charge forward without shame. While Julian was still interested, I had to do my job. On our first anniversary, Chloe updated her Instagram. She got a butterfly tattoo on her neck. I cried from the pain, but after ten hours, I had the same tattoo on my neck. When Julian came out of the shower and saw the tattoo revealed by my purple lace camisole, he paused while drying his hair. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” “Don’t do that again.” He showed no interest in my butterfly. “Also, throw away all your purple clothes.” My heart sank. Purple was Chloe’s favorite color. Did he not want me to imitate his “white moonlight” anymore? Was my job as a stand-in coming to an end? “I mean, it hurts.” He flicked my forehead. “Even if you don’t imitate her, I’ll still give you plenty of money.” The next day, the maid took away all my purple clothes. I didn’t like purple anyway. The maid filled my closet with black dresses. I touched the exquisite fabric. So, Julian knew I liked black? But if I didn’t imitate Chloe, what about my job? So, I tentatively asked Julian for eight million. He gave me an unlimited black card. A customized couple’s edition. While shopping with Lily, she asked curiously: “Didn’t you say you’d take the money and run after five years? The time is almost up. When are you divorcing?” I stared at the baby clothes in the window, lost in thought. 2 I had been Julian’s stand-in for five years. So I didn’t know what loving someone should look like. I only remembered that before my mom left with another man, the thing she did that made me happiest was knitting me a scarf. Now my fingers were covered in bandaids, and the scarf was finished. But Julian didn’t seem to need it. Because today was our scheduled night, and he was thirty minutes late. I fell asleep on the sofa waiting. I was woken up by kisses. “Sorry, the partners added terms last minute. I’m late.” Julian unbuttoned his shirt, his breath hot yet controlled. For the first time, I pushed him away. “When do you plan to divorce?” His breath hitched. “What are you talking about?” I looked up at him. “I know she’s back. You gave her my favorite lounge. “I checked. My access to that lounge has been revoked.” His muscles tensed. “Julian, don’t worry. I won’t cling to you. I don’t want much alimony, just give me…” He had already picked up his phone, his tone colder than I had ever heard. “Secretary? What secretary? “What about the lounge? “Do you change my staff without my approval now?” On the other end, the HR director’s voice trembled: “Mr. Sterling, she showed photos of you two dating and said the Madam stole her man… “Madam does look like Ms. Chloe, and those photos were indeed you. We thought it was your intention…” Julian’s expression was icy. “Blacklist Chloe from the industry. I want to see Madam’s access restored within an hour. “And you, go to finance and pick up your final paycheck.” The director tried to explain, but Julian hung up. I looked at him in surprise. He turned and hugged me, kissing me hard: “Sorry, I didn’t know. I wasn’t at headquarters these days…” I believed that. He was always flying domestically and internationally. But no matter how far, he never missed our four nights a week. I was still unsure, clutching his lapels tightly. “Blacklisting your white moonlight… aren’t you afraid she’ll be sad?” “What white moonlight?” He kissed me until I was breathless. “I only have you.” “Is this a confession?” “Yes.” “Then, Julian.” I hugged him tight. “Who am I to you?” He paused, then kissed me even harder. “My wife.” I trembled. “Then I’m really going to act like your wife from now on.” “You should have been doing that all along.” That night, neither of us slept. 3 My knitting skills improved. I unraveled the old scarf and made a bigger, warmer one. But Lily sent me a video. In the video, Julian was leaving a mansion in London after a meeting, holding a black umbrella, passing by Chloe. Since being blacklisted, she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t even pay rent. She was soaked, her purple dress clinging to her skin, outlining her curves. She looked at him with teary eyes in the wind. “Julian…” Chloe’s voice trembled. Julian paused slightly. Then walked past her without looking back. “Julian! Have you forgotten our past?” Amidst Chloe’s calls, Julian didn’t turn back. I sighed in relief. He knew his place. But I didn’t expect Chloe to be so determined. The storm raged all night. She stood downstairs all night. Until she fainted. A black umbrella appeared in the frame. Chloe struggled to open her eyes, looking up at the person holding the umbrella. Julian was dry, his pale face emotionless. But the umbrella tilted slightly towards Chloe. Julian flew back to New York the next day as planned. But he gave that mansion to Chloe. “Sarah, what do we do? Julian only spends money on his woman!” Lily panicked. I thought for a moment. “Since he treats me as his wife, I have to act like one.” That day, Chloe was kicked out of the mansion. And that day, Julian didn’t come home. This was the first time he missed our scheduled night since we married. I called a dozen times; he didn’t answer. The next day, he came home exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot. “Did you order Chloe to be kicked out?” I didn’t deny it. “Yes.” “Who gave you the right to be unreasonable?” I was shocked by his questioning tone. I looked up. “You mean, as your wife, I should tolerate your ex-girlfriend living in our property?” Julian didn’t speak. He frowned and threw a video at me. In the video, Chloe was dragged into an alley by a group of men, her purple dress torn. Julian’s voice trembled. “If I hadn’t arrived in time, Chloe would have been violated!” I looked at the video coldly. “What do you want me to do?” “Go to the hospital. Apologize to Chloe.” “Julian.” I pushed the phone back. “I won’t apologize to a mistress.” “Mistress?” Julian seemed surprised I used that word. A sneer I had never seen appeared on his lips. “If we’re talking about that, you’re the mistress, aren’t you?” My breath hitched. He ignored my shock and turned to leave. For the first time, he slammed the door. I sat on the sofa alone until late at night. Messages from friends kept popping up on my phone. [Sarah! What’s happening? Julian cancelled meetings to be with another woman at the hospital?] [They say she’s his first love. Is it true?] [Sarah, come to the hospital! Your husband is becoming someone else’s!] I didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, I packed my luggage and waited for Julian to return three days later. Seeing my suitcase, he chuckled lightly. “What? Running away from home?” I handed him the divorce papers. “Let’s divorce. I don’t want the settlement money.” His hand holding the tea froze. 4 He flipped through the agreement page by page, his expression serious. His hands trembled slightly. “Divorce? Who will give you all that money?” “Thanks to you, Mr. Sterling, I won’t starve.” He paused. “Divorce is fine, but you must return every cent I spent on you.” I froze. Five years as a stand-in, I spent quite a bit. Seeing me stiffen, Julian relaxed a bit. “If you can’t pay it back, that’s fine. Just don’t divorce…” “Okay.” He was stunned. I was very insecure about money. No matter how much I had, I didn’t dare spend recklessly. Even with nine figures in my account, when Julian wasn’t around, I still ate instant noodles with two eggs. In five years, I received hundreds of millions, but only spent two million. I handed over the bank card and took off the two-million-dollar earrings. That covered exactly what I spent. “These earrings were won in a bet with Chloe. They count as mine. Here, it’s all paid back.” I took Julian’s hand and placed the earrings in his palm. As I turned to leave, he threw the earrings away and grabbed my hand. “Don’t go!” “I didn’t really mean for you to pay me back!” The eloquent CEO was speechless. “Julian, don’t stop me…” I was impatient, but when I turned, I silenced myself. A tear fell onto the back of my hand. I spoke in disbelief. “You… are crying?” “I’m sorry.” He looked at me with red eyes. “Don’t do this to me.” I had never seen this man cry. If this was photographed, Sterling stocks would fluctuate. So I sat down and listened to his explanation. Only then did I know he wasn’t at the hospital these past few days. He had his friends send those stimulating messages because he thought I arranged for those men to violate Chloe. He couldn’t accept me doing such a thing. I could kick her out, but I couldn’t drive her to extinction, letting a group of men assault another girl. But he still sent Chloe to the hospital and visited often. Because he didn’t want me to be sued. “Calling you a mistress was out of anger. I’m sorry.” Julian’s eyes were red. I was silent for a moment. “Julian, you really hurt me this time.” Pain flashed in his eyes. “But I can give you a chance.” His eyes lit up. “Julian, I want you to cut off all contact with Chloe. Send her away, far away.” “Okay…” He gripped my hand tightly, as if holding a lost treasure. “I promise you.”

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For Christmas, I spent hundreds of dollars on premium imported cherries for my parents. My younger sister ate a whole bowl, and no one batted an eye. I ate one bowl, and my mother started muttering passive-aggressively under her breath. “Says she bought them to be filial, but look at her, stuffing her face endlessly.” Usually, in situations like this, I would apologize and offer to buy more. But today, I suddenly felt exhausted. I wanted to see what would happen if I didn’t buy more. I wanted to see just how far Mom would go. Chapter 1 Before dawn even broke, my dad was shaking me awake. “Peach, get up and go buy another box of cherries. It’s not that much money. Don’t upset your mother during the holidays. She was crying last night because of you. You’re a good, dutiful daughter; you need to be more understanding of your mom.” I was groggy from sleep, but hearing my dad’s accusation, a wave of grievance washed over me. To make it home for the holidays, I had worked overtime for a week straight. And now, over a bowl of cherries, I was being kicked out of bed before sunrise to go buy more. Those cherries were expensive. I bought pounds of them. I ate one small bowl yesterday. It wasn’t even that much. My sister, Lily, ate a bowl too. Why was this still an issue? It’s been like this since I was a kid. I was used to backing down, retreating again and again. When we were poorer, we only had steak on holidays. At the dinner table, Mom would always say with a fake smile, “Steak is so expensive these days, but Peach loves it. What can I do? I’m her mom. Since it’s cooked, hurry up and eat.” I would only take a tiny piece. If I took more, Mom would start making snide remarks. “Always eating, eating, eating. Don’t you know how hard things are for the family right now?” She’d finish with a glare. So I would sit there, trembling, afraid to take another bite, thinking my parents had it tough and I should let them eat more. But no matter how much Lily ate, Mom never complained. All our relatives knew that Mom “spoiled” me, “doted” on me, and bought me whatever I wanted, even if money was tight. But Mom always used the excuse of buying things for me, only for those things to end up with Lily. Once, I tried to defend myself in front of relatives, and it was like poking a hornet’s nest. “Look at you all! When did I not buy her things? She didn’t like them so she gave them to her sister, and now she accuses us of favoring Lily!” Mom cried, looking so wronged. The relatives looked at me disapprovingly. I felt like a clown stripped naked, bowing my head to accept their judgment and criticism. Mom did buy me things, but they were always in colors and styles that Lily liked. Who could I tell my grievances to? In the end, I apologized to her. I apologized for three days straight before Mom finally calmed down. Mom and Dad always knew how to manipulate me. There were too many incidents like this. Sometimes I fell into a vortex of self-doubt. I never knew how to sweet-talk my parents like Lily did. I always thought if I did more, if I was more understanding, they would see my efforts. Family harmony is everything. But this “harmony” was always bought with my compromise. I suddenly remembered overhearing two mothers talking on the train ride home. “As parents, you have to elevate your status. Make them feel like nothing they do is ever enough to satisfy you. That’s how you control them.” “You have to use the right methods to manipulate them. That’s how you make them obedient.” I had been the obedient daughter for 28 years. Today, suddenly, I didn’t want to be obedient anymore. I wanted to rebel. I got up, locked my bedroom door, pulled the covers over my head, and went back to sleep. Sleeping fitfully, I heard voices in the living room. “So, is what you said before still true? When Lily marries my son, you’ll give this condo to Lily as a dowry?” “Of course it’s true. Lily is my favorite. When they get married, not only will we give this condo, we’ll also give a bank card with savings.” “Lily even bought imported cherries specifically for you guys. Take some home later.” Lying in my warm bed, my heart turned to ice. This three-bedroom condo my parents lived in—I paid the down payment, I paid the mortgage. They always said they were just living there, and when I got married, the condo would still be mine. But what did I just hear? They were going to give my condo to my sister as a dowry? I quickly got dressed, threw open the bedroom door, and stormed into the living room. “Mom, this condo is mine. I do not agree to give it to Lily as a dowry.” Chapter 2 The air in the living room solidified instantly. Mom, Dad, and Lily all looked at me in shock. Mom stood up abruptly. “Peach, didn’t you go to buy fruit? Why are you still home?” She winked at me frantically, signaling me to leave. Based on past experience, I had to make things clear right now. Otherwise, Mom would say later, “Didn’t you already silently agree?” I looked at Mom stubbornly. “Mom, this condo is mine. Why are you giving it to Lily as a dowry?” Dad pointed at me angrily. “We’re still alive! What is yours? This condo belongs to us old folks. We can give it to whoever we want, and you have no right to interfere!” A stylishly dressed woman among the guests stood up with a smile. “You must be Lily’s sister, Peach. I’m Lily’s future mother-in-law, you can call me Mrs. Chen.” “Your mother said Lily has been paying the mortgage on this condo. It’s not unreasonable to give it to her as a dowry, right?” Mom grabbed my arm hard, her nails digging deep into my flesh, ignoring the pain she caused, and dragged me out the door in one breath. She warned me in a low voice, “Today is the day we set the wedding date for your sister. If you dare ruin this, I’m done with you. Go buy cherries immediately, I need them later.” With that, the door slammed shut. I stood there in my slippers, without my phone or wallet. Only tears fell, unbidden, one by one. Since we were kids, any good thing I had, Mom decided to give to Lily. The fountain pen I won in a competition, Mom said let Lily use it for a couple of days. My scholarship money, Mom said let Lily hold onto it for a couple of days. New clothes bought for me, Mom said let Lily wear them for a couple of days. … Without exception, these things eventually became Lily’s. This time, they were giving my condo to Lily. Why were they so biased? And so self-righteous about it? I used to suspect I wasn’t their biological daughter, but every time they slapped me and then gave me a piece of candy, I convinced myself I was being petty and misunderstanding them. So I was constantly consumed by confusion, pain, and self-denial. But whenever they showed a tiny bit of concern, I would be overjoyed. I was immersed in negative emotions from the past, tears streaming down my face. I stood alone in the hallway, watching the elevator go up and down. At that moment, Lily opened the door and came out. She draped a down jacket over me, mumbling, not knowing what to say. When we were little, my sister and I were close. We talked about everything and promised to be best sisters forever. Maybe time moved too fast. We had long deviated from that path, drifting further apart on a road of comparison, jealousy, and fighting for parental affection. “Sis, Mom is just like that. She’s been this way her whole life, she won’t change. Just go along with her.” A wave of anger rose in my heart. “Lily, tell me, which item for the holidays wasn’t bought by me? Why can’t I eat some cherries I bought myself?” Lily quickly held my hand. “Sis, keep your voice down. Mom cares about face. She’s doing this so I have face in front of my in-laws. Sis, Mom doesn’t like being contradicted. Just buy a little more.” It all came back to me buying more. I wanted to see what kind of scene Mom would make if I didn’t buy cherries today. I pulled the door open forcefully, tossed the down jacket on the entryway bench, then washed the remaining cherries and sat on the sofa eating them from the bowl. Mom pointed a trembling finger at me. “You unfilial daughter, what are you doing?” I blinked innocently. “Mom, I’m just eating some fruit I bought. Is that a crime?” Seeing the tense atmosphere, Mrs. Chen and her family said sarcastically that they had things to do at home and would discuss the wedding date later. After Mom, Dad, and Lily apologized profusely and saw them off, Lily ran back to her bedroom crying. Dad kicked over the coffee table in front of me, snatched the bowl from my hands, and smashed it on the floor. Then slap, a hard slap landed on my face. “I’ll let you eat!” Dad was so angry he stomped on the cherries rolling on the floor one by one. “If you ruin Lily’s marriage, get out of my house!” Chapter 3 The crushed cherries bled red juice on the floor, looking like red flowers—just like my image in my parents’ hearts: a daughter they could trample on at any time. Mom cried uncontrollably, not forgetting to accuse me. “You’re just jealous your sister found a good partner. You can’t stand to see her happy, can you? You won’t be satisfied until you ruin her marriage, right? Just because your marriage is unhappy, your sister doesn’t deserve happiness?” I sat on the sofa, silent, tears flowing. What could I say? They never cared what I said; their eyes and hearts only held Lily. The resentment in my chest ran wild; I couldn’t suppress it anymore. “I’m jealous of her? Jealous that she barely got into a community college? Jealous that she makes minimum wage? Or jealous that she found a ‘good’ in-law family that demands a house as a dowry?” Dad squatted on the floor holding his head. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. “Your sister wasn’t as smart as you growing up, and she doesn’t have as many schemes as you. Is it wrong for us to plan more for her?” “You went to a top university and got a good job, making good money. Can’t you stop calculating against your sister?” I looked down and sneered. “Dad, I wasn’t smart, I was desperate. Since I was little, you told me you guys were incapable, and if I wanted a good life, I had to study hard myself. I listened to you, so I studied desperately. Isn’t it natural that I tested well?” “I got severe gastritis at 28 because I didn’t eat on time while working myself to the bone. Do you think my salary comes easily?” Dad rubbed his face hard, his lips trembling. “But how did you raise Lily? You said the family only needed one hardworking sister, and the younger sister just needed to wait to enjoy the blessings.” I wiped my tears with my sleeve, but they wouldn’t stop. “Who caused my unhappy marriage? Was it me?” I pounded my chest, asking Dad with heartbreaking pain. The grievances and neglect my parents gave me over the years, the pressure and disappointments from work, all pressed down on me until I couldn’t breathe. I put on my down jacket dejectedly and walked out the door, feeling heavy. The streets were full of festive decorations, the holiday atmosphere thick. But my heart was a desolate wasteland. I walked aimlessly. The winter sun was warm. But my heart felt like it was soaking in an ice cellar; even in the sun, I couldn’t feel any warmth. I walked for an hour, but my chest still felt tight. Before, I could always coax myself into feeling better quickly, but this time, no matter how I made excuses for my parents, the resentment in my heart wouldn’t dissipate. Why? I wanted an answer too. Was it because I wasn’t worthy of eating the cherries I bought? Or because they broke our promise and privately gave my condo to my sister? Or because I finally realized they didn’t really love me that much? A burning pain came from my stomach, and I realized I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I bought a candied hawthorn stick (tanghulu). Sweet and sour. As I ate, I suddenly started laughing. Lily and I were so much like this treat! She was the sugar, I was the sour fruit. Looking red and round together. But people’s attention was always on the sweet part. My phone kept ringing. Without looking, I knew I was being denounced in the family group chat again. “Peach is too outrageous. Coming home only a few days a year and making her parents angry. It’s not right.” “It was just asking you to buy some cherries. How much could it cost? The richer she gets, the stingier she becomes.” “Lily usually takes care of your parents. You should be filial and buy things during the holidays. What’s the problem?” … I listened, burning with anger. My parents never explained the whole story, and those relatives loved to take things out of context. So I became the target of their criticism whenever they felt like it. They all liked to stand on the moral high ground and criticize me to gain a sense of presence as elders. In reality, in front of their own kids, they were all gentle parents who dared not breathe too loud. Chapter 4 I decided to reply. “Uncle Dave, why do I only come home a few days a year? I paid the down payment and the monthly mortgage for the condo my parents live in now. If I don’t work myself to death, are you going to pay the $6,000 monthly mortgage for me?” “I bought imported cherries, fifty dollars a pound. If my family eats them, I’ll buy as much as they want. But my parents wanted to give the cherries to Lily’s future in-laws. Auntie May, is it my place to pay for that?” “I bought the condo, I paid for the renovation and appliances. I pay for all of Mom and Dad’s medical bills, big and small. I give them a red envelope of over a thousand dollars every holiday. Even when their phone bill is due, Lily calls me to pay it. Auntie June, between two sisters, one pays and works, the other takes. Where did I go wrong?” Silence in the family group chat. An eerie silence spread. The frustration in my chest was finally vented. Did they not know these things? They were just used to dictating my life. Whichever child the parents loved, the relatives saw only that child. The unloved child was wrong in everything. For the next two days, Dad ignored me, Mom threw things around, and Lily looked at me hesitantly several times. There was no holiday atmosphere at home. They were all waiting for me to apologize, curry favor, and promise benefits. I wanted to try resisting until the end. Maintaining family affection solely through my compromise—would they change even a little because they loved me? On New Year’s Day, Uncle Dave treated us to dinner at a restaurant. The relatives greeted me warmly, telling me to eat more. Very rare. Halfway through, I went to the restroom and saw Mom, Auntie May, and Auntie June go into the fire escape stairwell. I followed quietly. “Give me some ideas. I already promised Lily’s in-laws that this condo would be her dowry when they get married. What if Peach doesn’t agree?” Auntie May said, hating iron for not becoming steel, “Are you confused? How many families around here give a condo as a dowry? Do you have multiple properties?” Auntie June also advised earnestly, “Between the two sisters, Peach is the capable one. If you break Peach’s heart completely, who will you rely on when you’re old?” Mom said aggrievedly, “Peach is capable and scheming, unlike Lily who is honest and kind. As parents, shouldn’t we take from the rich to help the poor?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an iron hand. It hurt. If I were truly “scheming,” would I be bullied by them like this? They could manipulate me at will just because they were my biological parents. Was it wrong for me to work hard and earn money with my own skills? Did it become their excuse to suck my blood? When I returned to the private room, I had no appetite. Uncle Dave got drunk and kept talking about “filial piety” to the younger generation. I knew he was saying it for me. Suddenly, Mom and Mrs. Chen pushed open the door and came in. As soon as Mrs. Chen saw me, she walked towards me enthusiastically. “Peach! We really are destined. We booked a room here too. We have a lot of young people there, come say hi. It’s good for young people to make friends.” Someone who starts plotting for her daughter-in-law’s dowry condo before the wedding can’t be a good person. Calling me so intimately? I made an excuse about a headache, refusing to go to their room. “You child.” Mom grabbed me. “What’s wrong with making more friends? Hurry up, give your Mrs. Chen some face.” She dragged me to Mrs. Chen’s room without explanation. And purposefully pushed me into the seat next to a balding man. I’ve been around the block; I knew exactly what Mrs. Chen was planning. Judging by how Mrs. Chen and her husband acted towards the balding man, they probably needed a favor from him and were offering me up as a sacrifice.

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It was day three of the silent treatment from Luke. I had typed out a long, pathetic apology text, ready to hit send. Then I walked into the breakroom and saw him sharing a single lollipop with the new intern. The intern, Summer, was giggling, daring me to go confess my love to the icy, untouchable CEO of our company. I thought Luke would stop her. He was my boyfriend, after all. Instead, he looked at me in front of the entire staff and smirked. “Go ahead. Who knows? Maybe the big boss will actually like you. Consider it climbing the social ladder.” He leaned back, his eyes cold. “Don’t worry, I won’t cling to you. After all, if it works, we’ll all have to call you Mrs. Sterling!” Suddenly, a row of neon text floated across my vision like a live stream chat: [The male lead is sick in the head. Who says that in front of everyone?] [Ugh, why is our male lead such a toxic tsundere? The heroine just needs to coddle him, and he’ll take her back!] [I’m so over this two-faced man. Girl, look at the CEO! He’s been in love with you for years. He only transferred to this branch for you!] [The CEO is 6’3″, has an eight-pack, and is totally devoted. You dump this loser, and the CEO will be kissing away your tears in five minutes!] I stared at the floating text, then at Luke’s mocking face. I adjusted the strap of my black dress. “Fine. I’ll try it.” I looked around the room. “If I succeed, everyone gets a raise!” 1 This was the ninety-ninth time Luke had given me the silent treatment. I had my apology script ready. I was always the one to fold. Then I saw Summer, the new intern, using a “status report” as an excuse to stare at the candy in Luke’s mouth. “Luke,” she asked, blinking her doe eyes. “What flavor is that?” Luke put down his pen, took the lollipop out, and glanced at it. “Strawberry.” “Can I taste it?” she asked innocently. Luke paused. Before he could answer, she snatched it from his hand and popped it into her mouth. Luke, seemingly slow on the uptake, asked, “Is it sweet?” She pulled it out, blushing. “Super sweet.” I turned around, walked downstairs to the convenience store, bought a bag of one hundred lollipops, came back, and shoved them into Summer’s hands. “Next time you’re hungry, tell me. I’ll buy you your own. You don’t need to snatch food from someone else’s boyfriend’s mouth.” The entire office went dead silent. Everyone looked over. Summer turned bright red. But Luke slammed his hand on the desk, standing up to defend her. “It’s just a piece of candy, Sarah. Why do you have to be so aggressive?” “You haven’t even finished the proposal I gave you yesterday, but you have time to be jealous?” “You’ve been here three years with no promotion. You’re incompetent. Honestly, I’m embarrassed to tell people you’re my girlfriend!” Seeing Luke take her side, Summer dropped the embarrassment and smirked. “Sarah isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, but you shouldn’t be so mean, Luke.” “You can just do her work for her. You did mine when I couldn’t finish it, remember?” Luke sat back down, crossing his legs, looking at me with pure disdain. “She’s different from you. You’re new; she’s a veteran employee.” “If a veteran employee can’t create value for the company, she should just be fired.” I stood there, frozen, feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. 2 My work performance wasn’t bad. I used to be a star in the Sales Department at HQ. I only transferred to Planning at this branch because Luke begged me to. He said he didn’t want to work at the same company but feel like we were in a long-distance relationship. I had only joined the Planning Department a month before Summer. Summer leaned against Luke’s desk, grinning at me. “Office romances are so cute. In those CEO novels I read, when the innocent heroine can’t finish her work, her boss boyfriend does it for her.” “And for every task he finishes, she has to give him a kiss as a reward!” Luke scoffed, but there was a smile playing on his lips. “Uninstall those trashy apps, Summer. What kind of nonsense are you reading?” Summer stuck out her tongue. “Is it nonsense? Then why did you ask me for a reward last time you helped me?” I stood there, feeling like I’d been slapped in public. Angry, humiliated, and numb. Actually, the reason for this current cold war was also Summer. A few days ago, Luke and Summer went on a business trip together. It was Luke’s birthday, so I FaceTimed him. At midnight. Summer answered the phone. “Sarah? Luke is in the shower. What do you want?” My blood ran cold. “It’s midnight. Why are you in his room?” Summer frowned, feigning innocence. “It’s not like that, it’s just…” She turned away from the camera. “Luke! Sarah is on the phone. She sounds mad. She wants to know why we’re together. You better explain it!” A second later, Luke appeared on screen, wearing a bathrobe, towel-drying his hair. “Sarah, relax. The showerhead in Summer’s room broke. I went to fix it, got soaked, and just took a shower here.” “You have no idea how great Summer was today. She handled some insane demands from the client. I really owe her dinner.” Summer tugged at his sleeve. “I told you, no need. Just take me on the next trip!” Luke looked down at her, his eyes softening in a way they never did for me anymore. “Deal. You’re smart and capable. You save me so much trouble.” Summer giggled. “See? Now you know how important I am.” “I know, I know. You’re my best student.” They flirted right in front of me, completely forgetting I was on the line. Finally, Luke remembered me. “Right, why did you call?” I hesitated, clutching the gift I had bought. “Luke, Happy Birth—” “Happy Birthday, Boss! Surprise!” Summer cut me off. On the screen, she wheeled out a cart. A massive three-tier cake covered in rose petals, a gift box, and a bottle of expensive wine. “Open it! Look!” She shoved the box into his hands. Luke opened it. It was a Louis Vuitton wallet. The exact one he’d been eyeing for months. I looked down at the identical wallet in my hand. I stayed silent and hung up the phone. 3 When Luke got back from the trip, he saw the wallet I left on his desk. That’s when he realized why I had called. Unfortunately, he was already using the one Summer gave him. “If it was a birthday gift, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “If you had said something, I wouldn’t have accepted Summer’s.” “Now Summer knows you got the same thing, and she feels terrible. She’s been apologizing non-stop, saying she didn’t mean to upstage you.” “There are rumors flying around that she’s trying to seduce me. Did you start those?” “If you keep targeting her like this, Sarah, don’t blame me if I break up with you!” For the first time, I didn’t want to explain myself. So, the silent treatment began. To punish me for not groveling, Luke had decided to humiliate me in the breakroom. It was lunch hour. Colleagues were filtering back in. Someone heard the tail end of the argument and joked, “Luke, aren’t you afraid Sarah will dump you if you keep defending the intern?” Luke snorted, looking supremely confident. “Let her dump me. I’m not scared.” “She chased me, remember? I didn’t chase her.” The guys laughed. “True that. In love, whoever cares more loses.” My eyes stung. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I looked down, blinking back tears. Not here, I told myself. Not at work. But Summer wasn’t done. She poked Luke’s arm with a manicured finger. “I heard Sarah used to be the Prom Queen at State University!” “She’s so charming. Why doesn’t she try confessing to the Big Boss? Hunter Sterling?” “Unless… Luke would get jealous?” My head snapped up. Hunter Sterling. Our CEO. Cold, distant, terrifying. He was on the Forbes “30 Under 30” list. Rumor had it he was allergic to women. Or maybe he was gay. A girl once tried to ask him out; she was fired the next day and left the building in tears. Summer was trying to get me fired. Some of Luke’s cronies chimed in. “That’s a great idea! Mr. Sterling is a State alum too!” “I wanna see if the Prom Queen can melt the Ice King!” “Oh god, if she fails, she’s definitely getting pink-slipped.” Summer beamed. “Don’t worry! Sarah has such a great body. If she offers herself up, Mr. Sterling might not date her, but he’ll probably keep her around for… other things. He won’t fire her!” A female colleague frowned. “That’s too much. Even if office dating isn’t banned, Sarah is Luke’s girlfriend.” Summer covered her mouth, acting shocked. “Oops! You’re right! Forget I said anything!” I used the last shred of my sanity to look at Luke. He was smart. He had to hear the malice in her voice. Instead, he shrugged. “What does it matter?” “If the boss actually wants her, she’s hitting the jackpot.” “Don’t worry. I won’t stand in your way. Heck, we’ll all have to call you Mrs. Sterling!” 4 Laughter erupted around the room. They were certain I’d be rejected. I was furious, humiliated, and ready to scream. But then, the glowing text appeared again. [Male lead is engaging in self-sabotage again. He loves her to death but acts like a jerk!] [Sarah, listen to me! He’s been stalking your Instagram for days. Just apologize like usual, and he’ll fold immediately!] [Apologize for what?! Our girl did nothing wrong! This insecurity king needs to go!] [Seriously, look at Hunter Sterling. He’s been secretly in love with you since college. Remember the Hiking Club?] [He still keeps the group photo from that mountain trip in his wallet. You break up with Luke, and Hunter will be worshiping the ground you walk on.] I widened my eyes at the red text. The CEO… has a crush on me? Before I could process this, Summer tugged at Luke’s sleeve again. “Sarah isn’t saying anything. Is she chicken?” “I guess the rumors are true. She’s obsessed with you, Luke.” “Those kinds of women are so annoying. Like gum stuck to your shoe. You’ll never get rid of her.” Luke raised an eyebrow, soaking up the ego boost. “What can I do? She’s been obsessed since college.” “Honestly, there were plenty of girls better than her chasing me. I only agreed to date her because she wore me down.” “But she’s getting annoying lately. Always starting cold wars.” “Let her confess to the boss. She needs a reality check. Maybe then she’ll stop making a scene over nothing.” Summer grinned, bumping his shoulder. “If Sarah succeeds, maybe you should date me instead. I’m not clingy!” Luke laughed. “Sure!” He glanced at me. “But I doubt she can bring herself to leave me.” I knew his game. He was pushing me to the edge, waiting for me to break and beg for forgiveness. I was an orphan. I lived with my aunt, who was kind, but my uncle hated me. I learned to be useful, to be quiet, to be diligent. I desperately wanted a home of my own. Luke had introduced me to his mom and sister. They were wonderful. They sent me homemade pickles and knitted scarves. I wanted to marry him to keep them. To keep that feeling of family. Luke used that against me. But I heard his mother divorced his father because of infidelity. I didn’t want to be her. I clenched my fists. “Fine. I’ll do it.” “If I succeed, everyone gets a raise.” 5 The smile froze on Luke’s face. His eyes turned dark. The chat went wild. [Hahaha! Karma! That’s what you get for being arrogant!] [Good job, Sarah! My blood pressure just went down seeing the look on his face!] [Hunter is infinitely better. Rich, handsome, and actually respects boundaries. He knew she had a boyfriend, so he just watched from afar.] [Though… he’s not that pure. He definitely does things to her photos at night…] The comments were making me blush. I marched to the CEO’s office before I could lose my nerve. Knock knock. “Come in.” Hunter’s voice was deep and magnetic. I pushed the heavy oak door open, leaving it slightly ajar so the nosy crowd behind me could see. Hunter was in a black suit, signing documents. He looked up, glanced at me, looked down, then his head snapped back up. His eyes widened slightly. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He sat up straight, put down his pen, and looked at me with an intensity that made my knees weak. “Yes?” I stared at the collar of his crisp white shirt, too nervous to meet his eyes. “Um, Mr. Sterling…” “I… I like you. Will you… go out with me?” Hunter froze. He glanced at the crowd peeking through the crack in the door. The spectators scattered. Hunter interlaced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. His sharp, almond-shaped eyes locked onto mine. “It’s lunch hour.” “Did you lose a bet with your colleagues?” “Tell me what the game is. I’ll go win it back for you.” I swallowed hard and finally looked at his face. He was gorgeous. At least 6’2″, chiseled jaw, an aura of old money. If I had really met him in college, how could I have forgotten him? The chat said we were in a Hiking Club together. Why did I have zero memory of that? Outside, people were whispering. “See? He’s giving her an out.” “If she keeps going, she’s getting fired.” My palms were sweating. Could I trust the floating text? But I was already here. No turning back. “It’s not a game. I really like you. Please date me!”

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My co-star, the so-called “Nation’s Perfect Boyfriend” and A-list actor Julian Chen, was trending on Twitter for refusing to open his mouth during a kiss scene. The comments were brutal: “Zero chemistry.” “He looks like he’s kissing a dead fish.” “Give us some passion, man!” Being the chaotic agent of chaos that I am, I liked the meanest tweet. Suddenly, Julian posted: “Fine. Next project, I’ll show you exactly how open I can get.” The internet exploded with joy. I, however, froze. Because I am the female lead in his next project starting tomorrow. 1 In Hollywood, Julian Chen is known as the industry’s golden boy—scandal-free, professional, and annoyingly wholesome. I, Tara Lee, am known as the industry’s favorite “man-eater”—flirty, scandalous, and always in the tabloids. I can’t stand his holier-than-thou act, so I roast him online constantly. Me: “Oh, look at Mr. Ice King wearing sunglasses inside. Is it to hide the fact that he’s secretly checking me out?” Julian: “Sorry for the late reply. It takes longer to type with just my middle finger.” The comments are usually just rows of skull emojis. Everyone knows we hate each other. On the red carpet, I once “accidentally” bumped into him. “Oops, my zipper seems to be stuck. Help a girl out?” Julian didn’t even look. He reached out, zipped it up in 0.01 seconds without touching a millimeter of skin, and flashed a peace sign at the paparazzi with his other hand. I rolled my eyes. “Wow, you’re good with your hands. How many zippers have you practiced on?” He looked down at me with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. I glanced down, too. Oh. “Pervert! One day I’m going to expose you!” 2 Karma came for him fast. Julian got dragged on social media for his “dead fish” kissing technique in his latest drama. I was lounging on my couch, sipping iced tea, and gleefully liking every single hate tweet. I even commented: “If any of these tweets hurt your feelings, let me know so I can retweet them.” The replies were gold. “Julian, you look like you’re in pain.” “Where is the tongue? We demand tongue!” “Do better next time, bro.” Then, a notification popped up. Julian tweeted. “Fine. Next project, I’ll show you exactly how open I can get.” His fan base went feral. The comments were a mix of thirst tweets and celebrations. I, however, sat there in stunned silence. Wait. Our next project starts filming tomorrow. I took the role just to dig up dirt on him. Now, karma was coming for me. My phone pinged. It was the director of Chasing Blossoms. Director: “Hey Tara, Julian wants to reschedule the big kiss scene and the… bedroom scene… to tomorrow.” Me: “Are you serious? You’re letting him bully you? Fight back!” Director: “His dad is the executive producer.” I went silent. Fine. He wants to kiss? I’ll make sure it’s a kiss he never forgets. I raided my kitchen. Garlic. Onions. Durian candy. Kimchi. Bring it on, pretty boy. 3 The next day, before the scene, I snuck into the dressing room. I pulled a stalk of green onion out of my sleeve, ready to chomp down. Suddenly, a curtain swooshed open. A tall, shirtless man walked out. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, and abs that looked like they were carved from marble. The lighting hit every muscle perfectly. I shrieked and covered my eyes. “Julian! You exhibitionist! I’m tweeting about this!” Then I peeked through my fingers. Nice. Eight-pack confirmed. I totally forgot I was in the wrong dressing room. Julian glanced at me, unbothered. He reached for his belt. I gulped. “Whoa, buddy. There’s a lady present. Are you blind?” He chuckled, pausing with his hands on his buckle. “Tara, didn’t you brag in an interview about dating half of Hollywood? Why are you acting shy over a guy changing his pants?” I straightened up, crossing my arms. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen more naked men than I’ve had hot meals. Go ahead. Show me what you got.” I stared intently as his long fingers undid the belt. The suit pants dropped. Then… My face turned atomic red. I couldn’t do it. “You just wait!” I yelled, sprinting out of the room. 4 Even on set, the image of his abs was burned into my retinas. “Tara, you okay? Your face is red,” the makeup artist asked. I jumped. “Nothing! Where’s my onion?” Action. It was a rainy scene. Julian and I stood facing each other under a fake downpour. “Julian, let’s just end it,” I said, channeling my character’s heartbreak. I turned to walk away. He grabbed my wrist. “I don’t accept that.” He pulled me close. His face loomed over mine. His lips crashed onto mine. They were warm, wet from the rain. I remembered his tweet. I clamped my mouth shut like a bank vault. Suddenly, his hand slid down to my waist and pinched. Hard. “Oof—” My mouth opened in surprise. He took the opening. His tongue swept in, tangling with mine. He pulled me flush against his chest. I could feel the heat radiating off him. My fingertips tingled. I was breathless, tears prickling my eyes. “Can’t handle it?” he whispered against my ear as the director yelled, “Cut!” I tried to push him away, but my knees gave out. I almost collapsed. “Easy there, Tara,” he laughed, catching me. “Don’t call me that,” I mumbled, feeling weirdly flustered. “Wait,” I realized. “Did you not taste the onion?” I had practically eaten a whole bulb before the scene. “I tasted it. It was sweet,” Julian said, smiling. The mole under his eye seemed to wink at me. I looked away. “You’re weird.” Then came the bedroom scene. I told myself not to worry. I’m a pro. I’ve done these scenes before. But… damn, this guy could kiss. “Hey, watch the hands!” I protested weakly. His shirt slipped off his shoulder, revealing that smooth, pale skin. His hot breath trailed down my neck, over my collarbone. The camera zoomed in. Even his expression of restrained desire was perfect. Under the covers, I took the opportunity to grope his abs. “Not bad,” I whispered. Julian stiffened for a second, then continued kissing me like his life depended on it. 5 I actually used to have a massive crush on Julian back in high school. Well, sort of. I lost a bet with my best friend, Chloe. The penalty was either asking Julian out or having her leak my middle school emo phase photos. Julian was the school’s “High Mountain Flower”—unreachable, cold, popular. He rejected love letters by the dozen. The prom queen tried everything. Bringing him coffee, cheering at his games. He just ignored her. “No thanks,” he’d say, grabbing a water bottle from his friend instead. He rejected everyone. But I had a plan. We were neighbors. One day, I caught him taking out the trash. I cornered him against the wall. “Hey. Look at me. I’m gonna chase you. Just accept it.” Then I dragged him to the park where I had set up candles in the shape of a heart. He raised an eyebrow, looking bored and unfairly handsome in the dim streetlights. I turned on my light-up sneakers and hit play on my boombox. I started dancing. Badly. Like a malfunctioning robot. “Tara,” he said, his face darkening. “Are you insane?” He walked away. Whatever. I blew out the candles. A good woman never gives up. Julian’s parents fought a lot. I could hear the screaming and smashing plates through the thin apartment walls. “Where is the money?!” “I spent it on clients!” “Liar! You spent it on your mistress!” Whenever they fought, Julian would sit on the stairs in the hallway. I opened my door quietly. He was doing homework on his knees, using the step as a desk. His shoulder blades poked through his thin shirt. “Hey. Hungry?” His parents often forgot to feed him. He didn’t look up. “We’re having braised pork ribs. Your favorite.” I grabbed his pen. He finally looked at me. I pulled him up. He was taller than me now. When did that happen? I dragged him into my apartment. “Julian! Come in!” My parents loved him. They set a place for him immediately. He sat there stiffly. “Thank you.” “Eat up! Or be our son instead!” Mom joked, piling food into his bowl. I watched him eat slowly. After that day, he stopped ignoring me. “Hey Julian, let me copy your math homework.” “No. Do it yourself.” “Hey Julian, this boba is too sweet. You want it?” “Okay.” “Hey Julian, don’t write my name down for talking in class.” “Okay.” Eventually, I took him to the roof. “Julian. Be my boyfriend.” He stood in the spring breeze, looking at me for a long time. “Do you like me?” I paused. Like? I mostly wanted to punch his arrogant face. But for the sake of my emo photos, I nodded. “Yeah. So much. I dream about you.” His ears turned red. “Okay.” We started walking to school together. He’d wait by the stairs, looking at me with those intense eyes. He helped me with homework. He carried my bag. He ate the food I didn’t want. We even adopted a stray cat. Named it Pear. He would stroke the cat with those long, artistic fingers. It made me blush. Then, disaster struck. Graduation night. Chloe got drunk at karaoke and spilled the beans. “Even if you didn’t get Julian, I wouldn’t have leaked the photos! I’m not a monster!” The door opened. Julian walked in. He looked at me, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. “Tara. Did you ever like me? Or was it just a bet?” I froze. I couldn’t meet his gaze. I didn’t see the light go out in his eyes. “Okay. I misunderstood.” He left. He blocked my number. He vanished. We met again in Hollywood. He was a rising star. I was a D-list actress with a bad reputation. 6 He became my biggest hater. I posted about my first brand deal. He commented: “Congrats on your first. I just signed my 250th.” I snuck instant noodles onto a survival show. He tweeted the director: “Check her bag. She’s hoarding food.” I fell into a ditch on a variety show. He retweeted the video. The comments were always: “Why does Julian hate Tara so much?” “What did she do to him?” I knew. He hated me because I played him. I decided to fight fire with fire. On a variety show, I stole the food from his plate. He put down his chopsticks. “Really?” I smirked, chewing on his pork rib. He grabbed a napkin and wiped the sauce off my lip. “Glad you like it.” I shivered. He was playing mind games. During a game, I “accidentally” fell into his arms and stepped on his pristine white sneakers. “Oops. Sorry, bro.” I waited for him to shove me away. Instead, his hands tightened around my waist. “Throwing yourself at me? Tara, are you chasing me again?” His voice was low and raspy. I panicked and pushed him away. “In your dreams! Don’t call me that!”

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Owen Davis was cheating. The day I caught him, Owen was cheating. To stop me from walking out, he staggered into the kitchen, snatched a steak knife, and drew the blade savagely across his own wrist, sobbing so hard the sound choked in his throat. “Liz, if you won’t forgive me, I swear, I’ll kill myself.” Blood sprayed, flecking my face, blurring my vision. A sharp, sick ache tightened my chest, and my eyes burned. Looking at Owen, I felt utterly cold. “Owen, if you truly want to die,” I said, my voice flat. “Don’t do it in front of me.” I walked over, took the knife from his slackened grip, and gave him the final word. “Owen, we’re calling off the wedding.” 1 “No! I won’t call it off!” Ignoring the deep gash on his wrist, Owen lunged, clutching me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe. All I could hear was his ragged, crumbling voice. “I am not breaking up with you!” “Eliza Reed!” Owen grabbed my hand, his fingers slick with his own blood, and slapped it hard against his face. “Hit me, then!” “Slap me, scream at me, do whatever you want!” “Just don’t call off the wedding, please! Don’t leave me!” I watched the scarlet seep steadily from his wrist. The warm, sticky blood smeared my hand and his face, coiling around my heart like a vicious vine, tightening until I was suffocating. As my eyes met his, for a flashing moment, I remembered. I remembered Owen using that same face, those same desperate eyes, driven by pure, raw need, while he was buried in another woman. The image hit me, and I shoved him away with all my strength, stumbling to the bathroom. I vomited until my entire body ached and I felt hollowed out, but through the roar in my ears, I could still hear Owen’s voice. “Wife, we’re getting married right away!” “Wife!” “You’re going to be my wife! My life depends on you!” The truth was, I never thought I would leave Owen. I never imagined there would be a hole in my life where Owen used to be. Just like I never imagined I’d find him naked, intimately tangled with someone else, shattering the illusion of our love. “Get out!” I backed away frantically until I hit the wall, cornered. I saw the look of wounded, complete devastation on his face as he screamed. “Get out!” Owen’s complexion turned stark white. He dropped to his knees in front of me, pleading, saying sorry, saying he’d made a mistake, that it was only a moment of madness, that he’d been drunk, that he couldn’t help himself. “Liz.” “You are the only one I have ever loved!” “I love you!” Owen lost too much blood. At the hospital, I sat in the silent hallway, watching the red light above the Emergency Room door. I was chilled to the bone, feeling trapped in a dead end. That’s when his phone, which I still held, rang. It was the other woman. She called his name. Receiving no answer, she asked me, “Where is Owen?” “Who are you?” My throat was raw, like I’d swallowed glass. Before I could speak, I heard her voice, silky, yet confident. “You must be Eliza Reed.” “Owen’s fiancée.” “But so what?” she purred. “As long as you haven’t made it official, who’s to say Owen will actually marry you?” “Eliza Reed.” “I hear you were holding out on him, saving yourself for the wedding night, thinking that’s what a good woman does. Well, you shouldn’t blame Owen for straying and finding love elsewhere. Eliza, this is your own damn fault.” 2 A loud buzzing filled my ears. My body felt as if it had been run over by a steamroller. It wasn’t that Owen and I hadn’t been close to that step. But every time, at the last moment, Owen would stop, gently cup my face, and tell me. “Liz.” “You’re different to me.” “I cherish you,” he’d say. “I want our first time to happen at the most perfect moment.” And I believed it. I felt so incredibly lucky to have found such a good man in Owen, that he was a blessing, the best luck I’d ever had. Now, I listened to her mockery. “Owen told me that every time he tried to take things further, he’d look at your face and just… stop. Eliza Reed, have you honestly never wondered why?” Tears poured down my face. I swallowed the sourness rising in my throat, gazing at the still-lit red emergency light. Before she could say another word, I cut her off. “If you truly believe Owen loves you,” I said. “Fine.” My chest ached with a burning acid, almost unbearable, but I continued, “Then you tell him to call off the engagement.” “If you’re so capable, then stop hiding in the shadows! Make Owen choose you!” My emotions were spiraling out of control. Before I could say more, a hand grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. Veronica Davis, Owen’s mother, slapped me hard across the face. Before I could even register the pain, she hauled me up and slammed me onto the floor, screaming at me. “You tramp!” “If anything happens to my son, you will never pay enough, even if you die a thousand times!” Mrs. Davis’s voice thundered. Standing meekly behind the Davis family were my own parents. My mother caught my eye, shaking her head, silently begging me to keep quiet, to endure the abuse. I knew they wanted me to submit. But when Mrs. Davis took off her high-heeled shoe and hurled it at my face, the impact made my nose bleed. I couldn’t stop myself. “Then let’s cancel it.” Tears mixed with the blood streaming down my face, but I was defiant. “I won’t marry him.” I looked at my mother. “I am breaking the engagement with Owen!” “Oh, you worthless little bitch! You’ve got attitude now, do you?” Mrs. Davis raised her hand again, but my mother was faster. She slapped the other side of my face. “You apologize to Mrs. Davis right now!” “You tell them that you will never leave Owen as long as he wants you! Never!” My tears fell thick and fast as I looked at my mother’s face. The heartbreak was suffocating. I wanted to tell her why, but she roared at me instead. “Say it now!” My mother’s fists rained down on me, each blow a sharp sting that drove me toward a breakdown. “Say it!” “Say you’ll never leave him unless he throws you out! Say it, you hear me!” “Mom!” I cried out, my eyes red and swollen. Just then, the emergency room light went dark. Everyone rushed forward to ask about Owen. But Owen, despite his exhaustion and injuries, pushed past them all, rushing toward me. He tried to pull me into a hug, crying out again. “I won’t let us break up!” “Liz, please, don’t leave me…” 3 I realized my life couldn’t possibly get any worse. I sat by Owen’s hospital bed, listening as he explained everything—how his injury had nothing to do with me, how he took full responsibility for his cheating, and how my anger was completely justified. His eyes red-rimmed, Owen promised my parents. “Just this one time.” “I will never betray Liz again.” “I love Liz. I plan to marry her and spend my life with her.” Then I heard Owen tell his family. “If you keep giving Liz a hard time, you will genuinely drive me to suicide.” The Davis family adored Owen, their only son. Veronica Davis cried until she was broken, but she softened for her child’s sake. She shot me a venomous glare before changing her tone, saying only, “You had better cherish my son.” Owen squeezed my cold hand and whispered to me. “Liz, don’t worry about your brother’s tuition. I will fully support him. His future wedding, his car, his house—it’s all covered. I’m his brother-in-law. We’re family.” Everyone smiled then. The widest, most relieved smiles belonged to my parents. All their anxieties seemed to have evaporated, and they looked at Owen with an added measure of warmth and adoration. The day I accompanied Owen home from the hospital, I saw Skye Foster, the woman who had called me and slept with Owen. Her eyes were red as she looked at him. As Owen and I walked past, she grabbed the corner of his jacket, crying softly. “Owen.” “I just need to talk to you.” Skye was no longer arrogant and aggressive toward me; her tone was humble and pleading. “Owen.” “Just one conversation.” I felt Owen’s body stiffen. Meeting his conflicted gaze, I realized I had very little emotion left to give. I slipped my hand out of his, forcing a composed smile. “I’ll wait for you at home.” I got into the car. Owen’s text came immediately: [Wife, I promise I’ll make things clear with her. She won’t ever show her face again. Don’t be upset.] I exited the chat and opened the new text from Skye. “But what can I say?” “All I have to do is shed a few tears, and Owen still fetches like a dog.” The video the woman sent showed Owen following her into a hotel room, desperate to jump into bed. His hospital bandage had fallen to the floor. Her panting, intimate moans were like a toxic substance stealing my breath. I barely managed to keep the renewed wave of nausea down, rushing to the bathroom to dry-heave until my stomach felt completely empty. Then, my mother’s voice message played. “Liz, what man doesn’t fool around? Even your father looks at other women sometimes. I made it through it, and you will too.” “A woman should prioritize her husband. You need to think about your brother, Liz.” “Don’t be so selfish.” I sat in the empty house, surrounded by the new, brightly colored decorations for our wedding. It felt like even crying was no longer an option. I texted Owen. [Are you done?] 4 Owen returned the next day. Even with Skye’s perfume clinging to his clothes, he was no longer avoiding me like he had at first. Instead, he constantly tried to test my boundaries. He had started out terrified of losing me, but now he understood that even if I wanted to leave, my parents would always be my obstacle. He seemed to finally realize that our break-up wasn’t imminent. He became increasingly nonchalant in front of me, even taking to pinching my chin and saying, “Liz.” “As long as you’re a good girl.” “We’ll be happy forever.” “I promise,” Owen’s skin reeked of the other woman’s scent—so heavily I felt physically repulsed and wanted to throw up, but I forced myself to listen. “You will never have to go back to your family, to be sold off like a piece of property again.” I listened to the contempt in his tone, and watched the scrutinizing way he looked at me. He told me, “My momentary lapse of judgment was because I respected you, Liz. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” “I just want you to understand.” I understood. I knew I was supposed to agree with Owen, nod sweetly, say I understood and forgave him, and that I would love him forever. The words gathered in my throat. But I kept seeing the videos Skye sent me: from the hotel to the beach, to car rides, to forest escapades and camping trips. Every position, every intimate sound. Skye would always ask him. “Owen.” “Whose body—mine or Eliza Reed’s—attracts you more?” And Owen would answer without hesitation. “Yours.” He would drive himself into a frenzy on her body, his face contorted with lust, and he’d tell her, “If she’s my spiritual need, you’re my primal, physiological desire.” Skye had messaged me: “Eliza Reed. You’ll always lose if you try to compete with me.” Now, looking at Owen, the compliant words I was meant to say jammed in my throat. I tried to speak, but just as I was about to tell Owen that I would love him for life, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I threw up. I threw up all over Owen. He no longer had the initial look of heartbreaking remorse. He simply grimaced with distaste and snapped one line. “Eliza Reed.” “You need to be grateful for what you have.” When Owen left, the house fell silent again. I looked at the white wedding dress hanging in the room, the fine crystals flashing—a dream I had once held for my entire life. Now, as I watched the soft moans on the projector screen, and heard the sounds of celebration rising from downstairs, I put on the wedding dress. I called Owen.

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The Manuscript in Folder X It was a Tuesday afternoon, the kind of gray, drizzly Boston day that makes you want to do absolutely nothing but curl up in a blanket burrito and dissociate. I was sitting on the floor of the apartment I shared with Josh, surrounded by a fortress of empty Red Bull cans and textbooks that cost more than my first car. “Mia, do you have the notes for the Psych 101 midterms?” I yelled toward the kitchen, where Josh was currently doing something that smelled suspiciously like burning toast. “Check my laptop,” Josh called back, his voice calm, deep, the kind of voice that usually grounded me. “Password is your birthday. Obviously.” “Obviously,” I muttered, rolling my eyes but smiling. Josh and I had been inseparable since the sandbox days. Our mothers were best friends, our houses shared a fence, and our lives were so intertwined that I couldn’t tell where my memories ended and his began. He was the golden boy—Starbucks barista looks, Dean’s List grades, and a patience that bordered on saintly. I pulled his MacBook onto my lap. It was warm, humming slightly. I typed in my birthday—0422. Unlocked. His desktop was organized chaos. Folders for “Architecture,” “Receipts,” “Gaming,” and a folder simply labeled “Docs.” I clicked on “Docs,” assuming the psychology notes would be nestled in there. They weren’t. Instead, I saw a sub-folder labeled “Classified.” Now, let’s be real. If you label a folder “Classified” on a computer you explicitly told your nosy best friend to use, you are either an idiot or you want to be caught. Or, maybe, you just assume that after twenty years of friendship, there are no boundaries left to cross. Curiosity isn’t just a cat killer; it’s a friendship killer. I knew I should close it. I knew I should search for “Psych” in the search bar like a normal person. But I didn’t. I clicked. Inside was a single PDF file. The title made my blood run cold, then hot, then cold again. “The Cage: A Study in Possession.” I frowned. Josh wasn’t a writer. He was an architecture major who thought haikus were “inefficient.” I double-clicked the file. It opened. Chapter One. The chains were cold against Mia’s wrists, but not as cold as the look in Josh’s eyes. I stopped breathing. My eyes darted across the screen, devouring the text with a morbid, sickening fascination. It wasn’t a psychology paper. It wasn’t a creative writing assignment. It was a novel. A full-length, detailed, graphic novel. And the protagonists? Me. And him. But not the us that existed in this living room with the smell of burnt toast. In this story, the “Josh” character wasn’t the guy who held my hair back when I puked after frat parties. He was a monster. A calm, calculating, obsessive monster who had locked “Mia” in a basement that he had soundproofed himself. I scrolled down, my finger trembling on the trackpad. “You don’t need the outside world, Mia,” Josh whispered, stroking her hair as she wept. “They don’t understand you like I do. Out there, you get hurt. In here, you are worshipped.” I felt bile rise in my throat. The writing was… good. Disturbingly good. It described the layout of the basement—a room that looked suspiciously like the dream apartment we had always joked about buying. It described my favorite foods, which he brought to her on a silver tray. It described the way I slept, the specific way I bit my lip when I was anxious. It described, in vivid detail, “Mia’s” failed attempts to escape. How “Josh” would catch her, not with anger, but with a terrifying, disappointed patience. He would punish her. I won’t go into the details of the punishment. Let’s just say it walked a fine line between horror and a twisted, dark romance that you’d find in the deep, unmoderated corners of the internet. “Found them?” Josh’s voice came from right behind me. I slammed the laptop shut so hard it sounded like a gunshot. I jumped, spinning around. Josh was standing there, holding a plate of slightly charred toast and two mugs of coffee. He was wearing his gray sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt. He looked normal. He looked like Josh. But suddenly, all I could see was the character on page 45 who broke “Mia’s” ankle so she couldn’t run. “Yeah,” I choked out. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. “Yeah, I… uh… I just remembered I have them on my iPad. My bad.” Josh tilted his head. It was a gesture I used to find endearing. Now, it looked predatory. He looked at the closed laptop, then at my pale face. “You okay?” he asked, stepping closer. “You look like you saw a ghost.” “Just a headache,” I lied. I stood up, scrambling to put distance between us. “Migraine. Sudden onset. I need to lie down.” “Do you want some Tylenol?” He took another step. “I can get the ice pack.” “No!” I shouted. It was too loud. Too sharp. Josh stopped. His eyes—those dark, brown eyes that I had stared into a thousand times—narrowed slightly. A shadow passed over his face, something unreadable. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Go rest. I’ll be here if you need me.” I’ll be here. In the story, he said that to her every night. I’ll always be here, Mia. You never have to be alone again. I fled to my bedroom and locked the door. Then I dragged my desk chair under the handle. I didn’t sleep that night. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like footsteps. Every gust of wind sounded like a key turning in a lock.

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I’m Hollywood’s certified “Jack-of-all-trades” darling. Every time I book a role, I download a new skill into my brain like I’m in The Matrix. Play a chef? I’m suddenly whipping up Beef Wellington like Gordon Ramsay. Play an action hero? I walk away with a black belt in Krav Maga. Even when I played a delinquent teen, I mastered the art of hotwiring a car and butterfly knife tricks. My motto: If I’m on set, I’m learning something. The internet is obsessed. They tweet: [Is there anything Harper Moon can’t do?] Until I went on a reality show and brought my childhood best friend along. On filming day, he acted all “sick” and clingy, practically gluing himself to my side. After the 101st time pushing his heavy head off my shoulder, I finally snapped, “If you’re itching that much, go take a shower.” Julian: ? Live Chat: [I finally figured out the one stat point God forgot to give Harper. No wonder they say Julian is like a cat. He’s actively simping for her, and she’s like: ‘Why is this house cat vibrating? Is it broken?’] 1 I’m a B-list actress who recently skyrocketed to #1 on Twitter Trending because of a viral news clip. Here’s what happened: I was at a food truck festival in Santa Monica when I spotted a greasy creep behind me. His hands were wandering, trying to grope the girl standing next to me. Without thinking, I executed a perfect Judo hip toss and slammed him into the pavement. Then I put him in an armbar and dragged him to the nearest cop. There was a crowd. Naturally, everyone had their phones out. They were shook that a petite girl like me had the combat skills of John Wick. The video hit TikTok and blew up instantly. The hashtag #VigilanteHarper took over the internet. The comment section was on fire. People were praising my form and, surprisingly, my face. [Real talk, not only can she fight, but she’s gorgeous. She looks like a porcelain doll but hits like a truck. If I met a girl this pretty and dangerous in high school, I would’ve been down bad for at least three years.] [How does someone look this good with zero makeup? One body slam and she slammed right into my heart.] [Who is she? We need a name!] [Why does she look familiar?] Finally, my small but loyal fanbase arrived in the comments: [Is it possible… that’s our girl Harper Moon? She’s an actress! She hasn’t had her big break yet, but invest now! She’s pretty, can act, and is basically a ninja. Lowkey flex: Harper is a black belt, speaks three languages, sings opera, plays three instruments, paints, and does archery. You won’t find another celeb this over-qualified. Stan now!] Thanks to my fans, the internet started digging. They realized that in my two years of acting, I maxed out my skill tree. One role, one skill. Chef role? Michelin star cooking. Action role? Eight-pack abs and a black belt. Delinquent role? I can now shuffle-dance and pick locks. The internet was stunned: [Is Harper Moon actually a cyborg?] Riding the wave, my new drama aired shortly after. I played a unhinged villainess. The acting was solid, the character was iconic, and I officially leveled up to “It Girl” status. 2 My agency didn’t waste time. Between shoots, they signed me up for a slow-living reality show called Life, Unscripted. The show is famous for being chill, healing, and voyeuristic. No crazy challenges, just vibes. The theme this season? “Companionship.” I invited Julian Vance. In the first episode, the producers asked us to introduce our guest. I opened a photo album for the camera—courtesy of Julian’s mom. “This is my neighbor and childhood bestie, Julian. We grew up together. I’m five years older, but he’s been my shadow since he could walk.” I pointed to a throwback photo. I was in a blue dress, looking like a little princess. Next to me was Julian—round face, big eyes, looking like the Michelin Man’s cute son. He had chocolate smeared all over his mouth, holding a wrapper, licking it like it was gold. “Julian had a massive sweet tooth. One time, he was eating a candy bar and his baby tooth fell out. He started bawling, asking me if he was turning into a grandpa. He was terrified he couldn’t eat ribs or gummies anymore, or play tag with me because ‘old people fall apart.’” I flipped the page to a photo of Julian in his teenage years. The back of a head with neon orange hair. “He had an emo phase. He got obsessed with those Wattpad bad boys. He’d walk around saying stuff like, ‘Say the word, and I’ll burn the world for you.’ Eventually, he insisted on dyeing his hair because ‘all the misunderstood alphas have dyed hair.’ I couldn’t stop him, so I went with him. The stylist botched it. He wanted blonde; he got traffic cone orange. He cried all night saying he looked like a minion.” The producers were cracking up. They asked why the photo only showed his back. “Oh, his eyes were swollen shut from crying. He looked like he went twelve rounds with Tyson. He refused to turn around.” 3 The live chat was losing it. Everyone thought Julian was a lovable idiot. [LMAO help! ‘Say the word and I’ll burn the world?’ That is peak cringe and I love it.] [I’m wheezing. We all had that phase, but the orange hair? Foul.] [Did anyone catch that Harper went with him to get it done? She’s a real one. If my brother did that, I’d roast him. She really spoiled him.] [I bet when Harper played that delinquent role, she used Julian as her muse. You can’t fake that kind of trauma.] While the chat was roasting him, a knock echoed on the door. I opened it to see a familiar, handsome face. 6’2″, broad shoulders, narrow waist, legs for days. Pale skin, sharp jawline, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. But his eyes… they were soft, smiling eyes. He pushed his glasses up, looked down at me, and said in that velvety voice, “Hey, Moon.” The live chat froze. The sheer visual impact silenced the trolls. Then, the name tag appeared on screen: Julian Vance. [??? Excuse me? That’s the orange-haired crybaby? NOBODY TOLD ME HE GLOWED UP LIKE THIS?!] 4 Even the director paused, mumbling, “That is an aggressively handsome man.” While everyone else was swooning, I walked up to him and frowned. “Jules, aren’t you dying of heatstroke?” I looked at his three-piece bespoke suit. It looked incredible, sure. But it was 95 degrees in Los Angeles today. Julian’s gentle smile twitched. The cracks started to show. He looked down, a flash of grievance in his eyes, and mumbled, “Don’t I look good? Isn’t this your favorite style? Why aren’t you praising me…” “I…” Before I could say ‘you’re gonna melt,’ he pivoted. “Yeah, actually, it is hot. So hot.” He immediately shed the blazer, revealing a crisp white dress shirt. No tie. Top button undone, showing off a sliver of collarbone. The vibe shifted instantly from ‘CEO’ to ‘Hot College Senior.’ He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing veiny forearms. Then, catching me staring at his hands, he smirked subtly. He reached for his collar again. One button. Two buttons… He grit his teeth, looked like he was making a life-or-death decision, and went for the third button. “Stop.” I grabbed his hand. “Any lower and we get demonetized, Jules. This isn’t that kind of website. If you’re hot, go take a shower.” The chat exploded. [OPEN IT! I AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY!] [This is the premium content I pay my internet bill for!] [LMAO Harper really said ‘Bonk, go to horny jail.’ What kind of website did she think he was aiming for?] [Is nobody gonna mention that Julian is practically doing a striptease for her? I bet 5 bucks he’s in love with her.] 5 A memory flashed in my mind. Back when I was prepping for The Martial Artist, I spent two months in the gym. Julian was there every day. He said he was doing a “summer shred” and needed to manage his physique. He’d send me daily progress pics of his chest, abs, and biceps, claiming he needed me to “evaluate his gains.” I watched him transform from lean to ripped, though he kept it classy—lean muscle, like a Greek statue. After I finished that role and moved on to learning piano for the next one, we stopped going to the gym together. I wondered if he still had that six-pack… Judging by the way his shirt clung to him, yeah. He definitely did. I snapped out of it and noticed Julian’s ears were bright red. I was standing too close. He was wearing long sleeves. He really must be overheating. I stepped back, creating distance. “Still too hot? I’ll lower the AC.” Seeing me back away, Julian’s eyes dimmed with disappointment, but he nodded obediently. [Look at those red ears! Is it the heat? I don’t buy it.] [Neither do I.] [He’s so innocent! A tall, handsome, childhood friend? I ship it. The Leopard and the Cat!] [I accepted this ship in zero seconds.]

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