Category: English

When my older sister was fourteen, she was adopted by the Sterling family, the wealthiest in New York City. The village girl transformed into a wealthy heiress overnight. In the first year after she left, she secretly sent me a letter and a box of books. In the letter, she told me to study hard and come find her outside the mountains. She said the world outside was wonderful, that she was living well with the Sterlings, and that I shouldn’t worry. After that, I lost all contact with my sister. I never received another letter. Years later, I was admitted to a university in NYC to find her, only to discover that the Sterling family had no adopted daughter. Later, I dated a boy named Julian Sterling, the beloved only son of the family. When he was drunk one night, Julian told me a secret. He actually had an older brother who died in an accident before he turned eighteen. His parents bought a girl with a compatible horoscope to keep his brother company in the afterlife. 1 When the Sterlings drove their luxury car to our shack, my sister and I were chopping wood in the mountains. Our parents hurriedly called us back. They wanted to adopt my sister, take her to the big city to live in a mansion. My sister seemed unwilling. She pulled me in front of them. “Adopt my sister instead. She’s more obedient and prettier than me.” They didn’t even glance at me. Instead, they reached out and patted my sister’s head, smiling faintly. “We want you.” Dad pushed my sister toward the house. “Jasmine, go pack your things.” I wiped away tears secretly. I saw them hand my parents a check for a hundred thousand dollars. Their only condition was that we were never to contact my sister again. My parents took the check, grinning ear to ear. “Why are you selling my sister!” To me, this wasn’t adoption; it was selling their daughter! Dad heard me and kicked me viciously. “What does a brat like you know!” “She’s lucky to be chosen by rich people. Isn’t it good to be a wealthy young lady in the city?!” I wiped the tears from the corner of my eye and thought about it seriously. It seemed Dad was right. Being a rich daughter was better than suffering in these mountains, unloved by parents. The Sterlings looked at the meager belongings my sister packed, frowning slightly in distaste. “We’ll replace everything with new things.” My sister got into their luxury car. She rolled down the window, reaching out reluctantly to hold my hand, tears in her eyes. I pulled a half-finished woven bracelet from my pocket and put it on her wrist. “Sister, this is for you. I haven’t finished it yet. I wanted to give it to you for your birthday, but I might not have the chance now.” I choked up, big tears rolling down my face. The car started. My sister stuck her head out and shouted to me, “Violet! Study hard!” After that sentence, she seemed to say something else. But the car drove too fast, kicking up a tail of dust. The noise of the engine drowned out what she said after “study hard.” I didn’t hear her last words. 2 Two months after she left, my sister sent a large cardboard box to my school. Inside were many books, several new sets of underwear and tank tops that fit me, a letter, and a jasmine-scented sachet. Violet, I am doing very well at the Sterlings’. Don’t worry. I bought you many books you’ll need for your studies. Remember to wash the clothes before wearing them. I finished the bracelet you gave me. It’s beautiful, and I like it very much. I wear it all the time. I made the jasmine sachet myself from fresh jasmine flowers here. Smell the jasmine scent and pretend I am by your side. New York is beautiful, with tall buildings and endless traffic. The world outside the mountains is even more exciting than in the books. Violet, study hard. Get into college and come find me. I miss you so much. I looked at the letter written in my sister’s handwriting, tears falling onto the paper. I brought the jasmine sachet to my nose and took a deep breath. It smelled so good. It smelled like my sister. Every year around this time, my sister would pick fresh jasmine flowers, dry them, and make sachets for me. This year, she didn’t forget. 3 After my sister left, life at home didn’t improve with that hundred thousand dollars. Dad gambled it all away. He said he could turn one hundred thousand into two hundred thousand and buy a bigger house. But the gambling addiction grew stronger. Dad was possessed. In the end, he lost every penny and owed money to loan sharks. Debt collectors came to the door, threatening to break Dad’s legs if he didn’t pay. Mom ran away that night without taking me. The next day, Dad found Mom gone and flew into a rage. Before I went to school, Dad said to me, “Come home early today.” The way he looked at me was strange. I shuddered, feeling terrified. After school that day, I didn’t listen to Dad. Instead, I hid in an internet cafe next to the school and stayed there all night. I didn’t know until the police called my teacher the next day that Dad was dead. Debt collectors had attacked him. He collapsed at home and died from blood loss. I didn’t know why Dad insisted I come home that day, but thinking back, I still felt a lingering fear. With no other relatives, I became an orphan overnight. The school learned of my situation and contacted child services. I was placed in foster care, my expenses covered by the state. That year, I was ten. 4 Since that last package, I never received any news from my sister again. I waited day and night, but there was nothing. Did she really cut all ties with me? I missed her so much. I wondered if the Sterlings treated her well, if she was happy there. 5 Time passed quickly in the system. No one wanted to adopt a ten-year-old girl. I stayed until I turned eighteen. I finished high school successfully. All the colleges I applied to were in New York City. I wanted to find my sister. After all, she was my only family now. I had searched for the Sterling family online, trying to find information about my sister, but I couldn’t find anything related to their family members. It made sense. Children of such families were kept private. My sister must be very beautiful now. She should have graduated college. I wondered if she would recognize me. When the results came out, I was admitted to NYU. I stroked my acceptance letter repeatedly, my eyes getting wet. I thought my sister would be proud of me. 6 I embarked on the journey to New York with anticipation. It was my first time leaving the small town at the foot of the mountains where I had lived for over a decade. The joy and nervousness along the way were hard to hide. But the moment I stepped onto the land of New York, I suddenly felt lost and worried. Would she welcome me if I just showed up like this? After all, she had a new family. New York was truly beautiful. The endless prosperity was all in my eyes. My sister was right. The world outside the mountains was even more wonderful than in the books. 7 Starting college was busy. Various chores took up my time, and I hadn’t had a chance to find my sister yet. Of course, the main reason was that I was avoiding it. After thinking for a long time, I decided to ask around first to understand her current situation secretly, and then reunite with her when the time was right. The Sterlings were the richest family in New York. I thought information about them should be easy to find. But to my shock, when I asked my roommate, a local New Yorker, she told me: “Daughter? The Sterling Group doesn’t have a daughter.” I didn’t believe it and continued to ask, “Not biological, maybe an adopted daughter?” My roommate, Sarah, laughed. “Oh please, they have a biological son. Why would they adopt someone else’s child?” “So the Sterlings only have one child?” Sarah nodded, then quickly shook her head. “No, more than one.” My eyes lit up hearing this. “There was another son, but rumor has it he was sent abroad ten years ago and never came back. People say he’s illegitimate.” My hopeful gaze fell instantly. Eight years ago, the couple who came to adopt my sister were indeed the Sterlings. But I asked many people indirectly later, and the answer was always the same: The Sterling family never adopted a girl. Where did my sister go? She wrote to me saying she was living well with the Sterlings. She couldn’t have been lying to me. I still didn’t believe it. Surely they just kept the adopted child out of the public eye. 8 I continued to inquire about my sister, even though I found nothing. It was Sarah’s birthday. She treated us roommates to dinner, and afterward, they wanted to go clubbing. I didn’t want to go initially, having no interest in such places, but I couldn’t resist them dragging me along. “Come on, Violet. You’re in college now; you should try new things. Once you go to a club, you’ll want to go again.” My roommates were dancing excitedly on the floor. I sat on the side drinking juice, feeling awkward. Sarah suddenly sat next to me, pointing to a booth in a corner of the club. She whispered in my ear, “See that man sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, holding a drink?” I followed her gaze. In the dim corner, the faint light couldn’t hide the man’s exquisite face and extraordinary temperament. “Yeah, I see him. He’s handsome.” I nodded. Sarah continued, “That’s Julian Sterling, the only son of the Sterling family.” The Sterlings? Hearing this, I perked up instantly. I stared at Julian for a long time. Sarah jumped back onto the dance floor, while I stood up and walked toward Julian.

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When the top A-list star adjusted my earpiece, he subconsciously kissed my hair. We both froze. Because we were on a reality show about divorced couples. And we were from different marriages. 1 After I divorced Jax, everyone thought I would be the clingy ex-wife. He announced our marriage at the peak of his career. When he successfully transitioned from an idol to an award-winning actor, people always mentioned me. “What did she do to deserve him? She’s so lucky.” I was the one who asked for the divorce. But he was the one who had been waiting for it. When he was filming his new drama with his co-star, Sienna, she wore his clothes, used his phone case, and played house with him on set. Meanwhile, I was flipping through the calendar waiting for him to come home, only to have my calls declined because he was “busy.” It wasn’t until I ran into Sienna in first class that I knew. She greeted me with a warm, beaming smile. “Did you know?” she whispered in my ear. “I bought this ticket with his card.” She did it on purpose. She wanted to force my hand. I gave her what she wanted. It took me thirty minutes to pack my bags and leave our house. I didn’t want anything dirty that someone else had touched. Thank God we didn’t have kids. Jax leaned against the doorframe, watching me. His reaction was lukewarm. He only asked one question: “What else do you want?” “Your phone.” He paused, but handed it over. In the years he loved me most, I accompanied him from being a nobody to a superstar. I was always his only pinned contact. Now, I had been replaced. I was just on “Do Not Disturb.” It was an uncontested divorce. He gave me everything he had earned over the years, just begging me to let him go quickly. He said he truly loved Sienna. The day I signed the NDA and left, I thought I would never hear from him again. Until one month later, he called me. “Let’s meet.” “We can’t let the fans know you cheated. The show still has to air.” I arrived early. In the lounge, Jax’s agent was lecturing him. “Divorced, you’re still a top-tier actor. Her? She’s just a nobody waiting to be laughed at.” “She’s definitely not over you.” “Just trick her. Tell her you want to go on a divorce reality show with her.” “Make her think she can win you back. She’ll do anything to please you.” “We’ll edit the footage to make her look annoying, and you can secure your image as the devoted, heartbroken ex.” The agent nudged him. “Are you listening?” Jax had his legs up on the coffee table, lazily playing a mobile game. “Yeah.” “Trust me. You crook your finger, and she’ll come running like a puppy, grateful for the attention.” In the conference room. Jax played with his phone with one hand. He only said a few sentences. And I agreed. “I’ll do the show.” He stared into my eyes, pausing. “Are you really that… obsessed with me?” He was too confident. Too easy to fool. I lowered my lashes. “Yes.” “Jax, is there still a chance for us?” His gaze was cold. He looked away and muttered softly. “Depends on your performance.” “But,” he added, “the script for this show isn’t what you think.” This reality show would air while his new drama with Sienna was broadcasting. It was all to hype up the “chemistry” between him and Sienna. The show was titled The Split: A New Perspective on Marriage. Sienna would be rooming with him. And I would be rooming with Sienna’s husband. Caleb. The guy who exploded onto the scene at nineteen with one hit drama, won the Grand Slam of acting awards, and then vanished from the industry to get married. Jax was just his replacement. He got famous because he looked about 70% like Caleb. Rumor had it that after Caleb and Sienna married, they lived apart. She loved him, but he didn’t love her back. 2 A luxury hot spring resort. Two rooms, separated by a single wall. Livestreaming 24/7. There was a panel of commentators on set, and a barrage of live comments from the audience online. [Jax and Sienna are on a divorce show together? In the same room? This is wild!!!] [Their chemistry is insane. They look so good together.] [I told you Jax and his wife had no feelings left. No one likes a dead weight.] [I’ve been waiting for them to divorce for ages!] [Is he blind? He used to love her so much…] The staff put heart rate monitors on Jax and Sienna. “If your heart rate hits 70, you can leave the room.” [That’s gonna happen in a second.] But to everyone’s surprise, both their numbers hovered at 68. In private, they had done everything. They were too familiar with each other, and afraid of slipping up. So on the show, they pretended to be polite strangers. [Sienna is so respectful, she doesn’t even dare to get too close.] [Jax, stop holding back! We support you!] Sienna sat by the door. Jax stood on the balcony for fresh air. From his angle, he could see into my room. Caleb hadn’t arrived yet. I sat alone on the edge of the bed, wearing the heart rate watch. A knock on the door. It was a tall man. A baseball cap hid half his face, and the mist from the hot springs clung to the stray hairs on his forehead. It was drizzling outside. He carried the cold, crisp scent of the deep night. [My white moonlight is back!!!] [I gotta say, Jax… comparison is the thief of joy.] [Stop comparing them!] “You need to put this on.” I handed the other heart rate watch to Caleb. Jax hated it when people said he looked like Caleb. The first year of our marriage, we were walking the streets at midnight. I stared at a massive billboard featuring Caleb for a luxury brand, unable to look away. Jax jammed a hat onto my head, blocking my view, and said acidly: “I knew you liked that type of face.” Now. In the other room, Jax was on the balcony. Watching clearly. Watching Caleb walk into the room and close the door. Watching him put on the watch. Jax didn’t care. He knew since that night that Caleb—the man he couldn’t catch up to, the man he envied to death—was in a contract marriage with Sienna. Caleb didn’t even like Sienna. Of course, it was even less likely that he would like me—ordinary, divorced, someone even Jax looked down on. Jax scoffed, unbothered. Yet, he scrutinized every inch of my reaction. “Hello, Chloe.” My heart rate stayed at 50. I extended my hand. “Hello, Caleb.” He shook it. A few seconds later, the watch let out a piercing beep. Caleb’s heart rate had spiked off the charts. But the man himself was calmer than anyone. He said, “The watch is broken.” I said, “Oh.” 3 We swapped the watch, and sure enough, it was normal. Jax and Sienna played a few chemistry games, got their heart rates over 70, and left their room early. But on my side… Caleb’s heart rate stayed at a flat 25. Pathetically low. “If it never goes up,” I asked the staff, “do we have to stay in the room all night?” Caleb heard me. He stood tall, broad-shouldered in a thin black hoodie, his gaze empty and distant. The staff said, “It counts as a failed mission. You can come out in an hour.” Caleb and I were the last to emerge. [This is a disaster.] [Zero chemistry.] [Get them off screen. I only want to watch Sienna and Jax.] The comments were brutal until the livestream ended. In the post-show interview rooms. Cameras, lights, crowded with people. Jax stood in the corner, watching Sienna give her interview. His gaze swept over me unexpectedly. “Excited?” He asked me out of nowhere. “Did you have a moment where you thought Caleb might actually be interested in you?” I ignored him and tried to walk away. He blocked me. “What to do, Chloe,” he said, hands in his pockets, tilting his head. “I’m starting to think divorcing you was the best decision I ever made.” Someone walked by, and Jax straightened up. Back to that gentle, soulful, yet broken persona. As if I were the one who had hurt him deeply. When Sienna finished her interview, she walked up to me under everyone’s gaze and took my hand. “Chloe,” she said. On her wrist was an old red string bracelet. “Cherish Jax. He really loves you.” That bracelet. I recognized it. Last year on our anniversary, Jax was being followed by stalker fans and got into a minor car accident. He was fine. I dragged him up the mountain to a temple to pray for his safety. I closed my eyes, my heart full of prayers for him. When I opened them, I saw him buying a red string bracelet. I thought it was for me. But he said he bought it for himself, to give me peace of mind. Now, it was on Sienna’s wrist. “Stop being unreasonable,” Sienna said to the camera. “I want you two to be happy more than anyone.” I didn’t say a word. Jax didn’t know. Sienna didn’t know either. Actually, I agreed to this variety show for another reason—a hidden one I couldn’t tell anyone. That day at the temple, when I closed my eyes, the person in my heart wasn’t Jax. 4 The show was recorded on weekends. The concept was “Weekend Couples.” During the weekdays, I went back to my old job, trying to return to the entertainment group as an agent. “Caleb and Sienna are already divorced,” my former boss told me. “He signed a ten-year contract with Sienna’s father’s company. He’s finally free to terminate it. He’s restructuring his studio. I recommended you to him.” I followed the address he gave me and saw Caleb in a photography studio. His profile was backlit, his features sharp and rebellious. It was truly a face made for the silver screen. He was even harder to approach than I imagined. I waited outside for a long time. Until his assistant ran out and told me: “Sorry, Chloe. We probably can’t talk today.” On the way back, my car broke down. 11 PM. Middle of nowhere. Raining. I held an umbrella, waiting for the tow truck. Watching cars drive by from the distance, like passing ghosts in the night. None of them were coming for me. Then, headlights flashed. A black van window rolled down. Caleb’s assistant said: “Chloe, get in.” Caleb was in the very back, a baseball cap covering his face, asleep. His breathing was shallow, long legs cramped in the space. The car was cluttered. Two suit jackets hung by the window. The scent of cold pine. The same scent from when he shook my hand that day. “Chloe, I’m going to grab water at the gas station ahead. Do you want some?” the assistant whispered. “I’ll go with you.” “No, no,” he waved his hand and hopped out. “I’ll be quick.” The door closed. It was just me and Caleb. No one else. No cameras. The headlights flickered. The interior was dim. Even though there was a row of seats between us, his breathing sounded like it was right next to my ear. I stared at the blue neon sign of the gas station outside. The assistant was lingering in an aisle. I remembered once, shopping at a supermarket, I saw Sienna’s ad. “She’s so pretty,” I said to Jax back then. He reacted flatly. “She’s okay.” I didn’t know. That “okay” was the reason he didn’t come home time and time again. Later, I learned from others that Sienna was his first love. They broke up when he couldn’t get famous. He never got over her. But back then, in the supermarket, he just deftly changed the subject and asked me: “Babe, did you ever date anyone before me?” “No.” At least, that’s what I told everyone, including him. In the car, someone was kicking my calf. A long leg stretching from the back seat. Not accidentally. But deliberately, mischievously, childishly, rhythmically tapping me. I pulled my legs out of his reach. I didn’t speak. I didn’t turn around. I maintained my posture as if nothing had happened. “Chloe.” He spoke. Maybe because he just woke up, his voice carried a reckless, boyish tone. “Long time no see.” It had been so many years. Why did he still like calling my name like that? Just like in that cramped, humid rental apartment… Where I drowned over and over again… In his gentle, yet unrestrained, relentless hands.

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It happened on the way to pick up Liam from his kindergarten. I saw the whole thing. I watched a man snatch him, watched my six-year-old’s face—terrified, tear-stained—pressed against the car window, his tiny hands clawing at the glass, screaming “Mommy.” Then the window rolled up, and his face was gone. But when the detectives pressed me, when they made me sit through hours of interviews, I told them nothing. Not a word. Even when my husband, Ethan, knelt before me on the hardwood floor, his eyes broken, begging me to recall a license plate, a jacket color, anything, I remained silent. My in-laws, their eyes raw and red-rimmed, screamed and cursed me. They called me a cold-blooded executioner, a monster. I only curled tighter into the corner of the sofa. When the reporters blocked our driveway, I grabbed the rolling pin from the kitchen and charged out like a rabid animal. Ethan never divorced me. The man who had once built a perfect world for me, who had treated me like a princess, simply put a deadbolt on the life we knew and locked the world out. He ignored the gossip, the police reports, and the public outcry, deciding I would stay in that house to pay my penance. He tortured me. Every single day. Five years of it, until the day that neural-mapping technology matured and he sent me to the Memory Retrieval Tribunal. 1 The large screen above the trial platform flickered, and Ethan’s face, cold and razor-sharp, filled the frame. He stood at the head of the auditorium, behind the judge’s bench, a sea of over three thousand people filling the seats behind him. “Audrey,” his voice boomed, echoing through the vast Metropolitan Convention Hall, “you don’t deserve the title of mother!” “Liam was so devoted to you,” he spat, “yet you stood there and watched him be taken, refusing to offer a single clue about the monster who did it!” I was strapped onto a specialized medical gurney, a plastic tube snaking down my throat, a necessary evil after years of neglect. My body was an artifact of suffering; lifting an eyelid felt like a monumental effort. “Don’t play dead!” Ethan’s voice was deafening, pumped through the hall’s massive speakers. “The police said you were the only eyewitness. Security footage showed you lingered at that intersection for ten minutes. What were you so afraid of?” “Today, this Memory Extractor will drag out everything you’ve hidden inside your head!” A storm of insults rained down from the audience, a collective, angry roar. Eggs and rotting fruit splattered against the thick, clear partition that separated me from the enraged public, leaving trails of foul, yellow-green slime. My in-laws sat in the front row. My mother-in-law was shaking, weeping uncontrollably, held upright by my father-in-law. “You murderous bitch! Liam was only six! How could you be so cruel?” “That was your own son!” I knew their hatred was boundless. Liam was the only grandchild, the light of their lives. My refusal to speak had turned the case cold, a national obsession and an unsolved mystery. Grief had aged my in-laws ten years in one. As the metallic probes of the Extractor were fixed to my temples, I forced what little strength I had left to shake my head at Ethan. A tear finally broke free, tracing a hot path down my cheek. He only sneered. He nodded to the technician. “Begin.” The instant the machine powered on, a thousand molten needles seemed to pierce my skull. My eyes flew wide. I couldn’t scream. My body spasmed violently, uncontrollably. A doctor rushed forward to administer a sedative, but Ethan waved him off. “No. I want her to be fully conscious when she watches her own memory. She will atone in excruciating clarity.” The massive screen in the center of the auditorium lit up, beginning to stream fragments of my mind. The first image was Ethan’s back. He was wearing a black suit, standing in a room overflowing with white lilies. In the center, on a small table, was a photograph of Liam. He was six, wearing blue overalls, holding up a drawing of a sunflower, his two small canine teeth showing in a gap-toothed, proud grin. Toys and coloring books lay scattered nearby. This was the memorial room. I saw myself walk forward, wanting to touch Ethan’s shoulder, but he shook me off. He turned, grabbed my throat, and dragged me right up to the photograph. “You have the audacity to come here?” His eyes were bloodshot, manic. “The police asked for the license plate, and you said you didn’t see it!” “They asked what color jacket the man wore, and you said you couldn’t remember!” “Audrey, look at Liam’s eyes,” he growled, shaking me until my teeth rattled, “and tell me again you don’t remember.” My body trembled, but even in the memory, I remained mute. The image began to warp and blur. The insults from the auditorium grew more intense. “She’s doing this on purpose! Maybe she was in on it with the kidnapper!” “This kind of woman should be flayed alive!” My physical convulsions grew more violent. The tube in my throat scraped my vocal cords with every spasm, sending searing pain through my chest. I felt a warm, sticky liquid—saliva mixed with blood—trickle from the corner of my mouth onto the pillow. The doctor’s face wavered in my blurred vision. He hesitated, looking up at Ethan. Then, with a grim determination, he plunged a syringe of adrenaline into my vein. The drug hit my bloodstream and, suddenly, the fog in my consciousness tore open. The screen went haywire. The shouts, Ethan’s face, the blur of the running child—everything imploded into a chaotic mass of color before dissolving into a single, cohesive wash of warm, saturated orange light. The doctor rushed to the microphone to explain. “The Memory Extractor detected a surge of intense emotion. The memory being displayed now is likely the patient’s deepest, most profound fragment—the most critical one.” The screen slowly stabilized. It was our sun-drenched living room. Liam was on the rug in his little dinosaur pajamas, the afternoon sunlight slicing through the French doors and spilling over him. He was coloring sunflowers, just like the one in the memorial picture. I sat beside him on the sofa, peeling a tangerine. I broke off a section and offered it to him. “Mommy, look!” Liam held up his artwork, a smear of yellow crayon on his nose. “I drew Mommy and Daddy for the sunflower so it won’t be lonely!” I wiped the crayon off his nose, squeezing his soft cheek. “My clever boy.” He giggled and launched himself into my arms, burying his little head in my neck. “Mommy smells so good,” he whispered, “like a cupcake.” Just then, the front door clicked. Ethan walked in. Before he could even put his briefcase down, Liam had slid off the sofa and toddled over on his short legs, wrapping his arms around his father’s thigh. “Daddy! You’re home!” Ethan bent down and lifted him, the exhaustion instantly melting from his face, replaced by a profound, heart-stopping tenderness. A profound silence fell over the hall. “Wait… that looks like a happy family,” someone whispered. “Why wouldn’t she give up the killer’s information if she was this close to him?” “If she was truly cold-hearted, why would this warm memory be the strongest?” “Maybe there’s another side to the story?” But the murmurs of doubt were quickly drowned out by renewed fury. “It’s a performance! She’s trying to manufacture sympathy to confuse the machine!” Ethan, standing by the platform, stared at the image of our smiling, sun-lit faces. His hands clenched into fists, his expression so dark it looked like storm clouds brewing. “Enough!” he roared suddenly. “Audrey, you have no right to remember those moments!” He vaulted off the platform, ignoring the technician’s protests, and rushed to the Memory Extractor, snatching the control lever. “Mr. Ethan, no! It’s already at eighty percent of the safety threshold! Any higher will cause irreversible brain damage!” “Irreversible?” Ethan’s voice was a chilling sneer. “She killed my son. I need the answer now.” Slam. He pushed the lever all the way to the top. Kerr-CHUNK! The Extractor emitted a high-pitched, electric scream. The metal probes on my temples felt like they’d instantly turned into branding irons. My head felt like a bell struck by a hammer, my skull cavity pressurized to the point of rupture. My eyeballs rolled upward into my head, and my body began to convulse with ten times the force, my limbs twisting at unnatural angles. “Doctor! Stop the machine! You’ll kill her!” a voice from the audience screamed. “This is barbaric! It’s not a trial—it’s murder!” The discussion erupted into full-blown panic. Security rushed to block the exits as several distraught attendees tried to rush the platform. The doctor, frantic, again tried to inject the sedative, but Ethan brutally shoved him aside, sending him tumbling to the floor. Ethan stood over the gurney, his face a mask of pure hatred. “You think you can die, Audrey? I promise you, not even the Devil himself can take you until you tell me who the kidnapper was!” He spun to the technician. “Stabilize the power! I need a clear picture! The killer’s face!” “I want everyone to see the bastard!” The technician was shaking, but fearing Ethan more than the exploding machine, he fumbled with the controls. I felt my neural pathways snapping, one by one. The darkness at the edge of my vision grew thicker. I could only see the broken fragments flickering on the screen. Liam’s crying face, the glaring sun, the flashing red light of the crosswalk. The pain was too severe to concentrate, too consuming to piece together any coherent image. I felt my breathing shallow, my consciousness sinking into a bottomless well. The shouts of the audience had quieted, replaced by looks of horror and pity. Some began to murmur that Ethan was too obsessed, that this spectacle was senseless cruelty. My in-laws’ hatred softened, replaced by a lost, vacant confusion as they looked at my near-dead body. But Ethan heard none of it. “The killer? His face? Audrey, think! Now!”

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I’ve always been a magnet for boys. Since elementary school, love letters have piled up like junk mail. Terrified I’d turn into a teenage delinquent, my parents went nuclear: they arranged my marriage when I was basically a toddler. Having an “official fiancé” actually worked. It blocked most of the unwanted attention. Then came college. My grandfather passed away, so I went back to our ancestral village for the funeral. Bad move. Someone planted a “Matchmaker’s Curse” on me. The rule? If you’re marked by the Matchmaker’s Curse, you must marry the person the mark belongs to. Problem is, I already have a fiancé. 1 Back in my family’s village, nestled deep in the Appalachian backwoods, there’s a legend. Families with sons who are… undesirable… will scout for a girl and secretly bind her to their son with a dark hex. A mark appears on the girl’s body: a pale, crescent moon. They call it the “Matchmaker’s Seal.” If the girl’s family can’t break the curse, she has no choice but to marry the son—whether he’s a fool, blind, or paralyzed. If she refuses, the seal spreads. It covers her whole body, rotting her from the inside out until she dies. My mom used to tell me this story. I treated it like a fairytale. I grew up in the city; this hillbilly voodoo had nothing to do with me. Until my grandpa died. I went back for the funeral, and guess what? I became the main character in a horror story. 2 At first, I thought it was an allergy. I kept scratching at my collarbone until I noticed it—a pale pink crescent moon mark, right above my left clavicle. I showed it to my grandma. She exploded. “Which blind bastard dares target my granddaughter?! They must be tired of living!” My mom was frantic, stomping her foot. “What do we do? Clara is already engaged!” “Engaged or not, we aren’t taking this lying down,” my dad said, his face grim. The Matchmaker’s Seal is a type of Gu poison—ancient, nasty stuff. It’s hard to cultivate and even harder to plant. And if the curse is broken, the backlash hits the caster and the intended groom hard. No normal guy would resort to this. It meant the “owner” of this mark was likely desperate. Probably disabled, disfigured, or just plain evil. Grandma sighed. “To break the seal, we need to know who planted it. If only your grandpa were still alive.” Grandpa was a master at breaking hexes. When he was around, nobody dared touch us. Now that he was gone, the wolves were circling. 3 “Clara, did you eat anything you shouldn’t have? Especially from strangers?” Grandma asked. I thought about it. “No. Mom and Dad warned me before we came. I only ate at the house during the funeral wake.” “Then it was someone close. Probably at the funeral banquet,” Dad slammed his hand on the table. There were over 150 guests. It could have been anyone. “But those were all friends and family! Who could be so vicious?” Mom started crying. “List everyone with a son,” Grandma commanded. “Especially the unmarried, disabled, or slow ones.” Dad grabbed a pen. Out of 153 guests, 13 had unmarried sons. Ten were dating or engaged. That left three. One was my second cousin, Earl, from the next holler over. He had a bad eye and was thirty, still single. Another was Old Man Miller’s grandson, crashed his truck a few years back, lost a leg. He was twenty-eight, unemployed, and just played video games in his basement. The last was a distant relative, Lenny. An orphan, nearly forty, malnourished, and honestly, kinda creepy looking. 4 “Lenny wouldn’t. I watched him grow up. He wears your dad’s old clothes. He has no money and no skills to pull off a hex like this,” Grandma dismissed him. “Clara, tomorrow you come with me. We’re visiting the Millers and Cousin Earl.” She poked my forehead. “Look at you, zoning out! Aren’t you worried?” I wasn’t zoning out. I was terrified. Not of the curse, but of my fiancé. Mom looked guilty. My engagement was a result of my parents owing a life debt. Dad, oblivious as always, brought it up. “If he finds out, it’s gonna be a disaster.” “Clara’s fiancé? When can I meet him?” Grandma asked. “It happened so fast, we didn’t have time to tell you,” Dad mumbled. “We need to find the culprit fast. Before… before he gets angry.” My fiancé, Silas Vance. Honestly? I kinda wanted to see him angry. He was so stoic it was annoying. I’d only read about guys like him in books. 5 The next day, Grandma and I visited the Millers. We beat around the bush until I just showed Old Man Miller the mark. “Good Lord, Clara! It ain’t us!” he swore. “We’ve known your grandpa for fifty years! Plus, Clara’s a college girl; my grandson ain’t in her league. Your grandpa warned everyone about this dark magic. I ain’t gonna disrespect his memory like that.” He seemed sincere. Usually, once the mark appears, the groom’s family shows up within two weeks to “claim” the bride. If it were them, they’d admit it. 6 Next stop: Cousin Earl’s place. Earl came out to greet us. He looked honest, if a bit simple. He scratched his head and told us his dad wasn’t home—he was out with a matchmaker trying to set Earl up with a girl from the next town. Grandma and I exchanged a look. We left without even going inside. If it wasn’t them, who was it? “Don’t panic, Clara,” Grandma soothed me on the walk back. “The culprit will show up eventually. We’ll handle it.” I nodded. I wasn’t panicking about the curse. I was panicking because Silas Vance was coming. Silas wasn’t just a guy. He was from a hidden clan of Daoist cultivators. Like, legitimate wizards. They fasted, meditated, and practiced abstinence. Basically, he was an immortal who didn’t eat spicy Cheetos or BBQ. We were incompatible on a cellular level. But he was gorgeous. Otherworldly handsome. Cold, distant, radiating “do not touch” energy. Since we got engaged, he’d used his status to micromanage my life. No junk food. No staying up late. No clubbing. “Three months between Spicy Sticks. Six months for BBQ. One ice cream cone a year.” That was his compromise. Beauty is great, but does it taste like fried chicken? No. 7 I was mentally cursing him when I saw a familiar figure standing in my grandma’s doorway. My brain buzzed. “Uh… Grandma… you go in first. I… I forgot something…” I turned to bolt. I knew my parents would call the “Black-Faced God,” but I didn’t think he’d teleport here instantly. “Clara Yeager. Am I that scary?” I ran smack into a chest that felt like a marble wall. I looked up. Sharp brows, eyes like deep mountain pools. Silas. “Scarier than my Calculus professor,” I blurted out. Oops. Usually, he’d cast a “Silence Spell” on me for talking back. For a chatterbox like me, that was death. I braced myself. But he didn’t get mad. He actually smiled—a faint, terrifying twitch of the lips—and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “Your parents told me I was too cold. That’s why you resorted to planting a Matchmaker’s Seal on yourself. It’s my fault. From now on… I’ll buy you Spicy Sticks. Ice cream too.” Wait. What? My parents told him I planted the curse on myself? To get his attention? I almost laughed. I failed biology. How would I cultivate a magical parasite? But… he said he’d buy me Spicy Sticks. And ice cream. “Really? Buy me two packs of Spicy Sticks and a double-scoop cone. Right now.” Let’s test the waters. Silas nodded. “Let’s go. Your choice. My tab.” 8 After devouring the snacks and licking the ice cream off my fingers, I burped. “By the way, I didn’t plant the mark. Seriously. I swear on my GPA.” Silas’s face went dark instantly. “Clara!” Whoa. Now he’s mad. “Stop! No Silence Spell! Or I’ll marry the hex-caster and cuckold you!” “You dare!” His face was thunderous. “Try me.” I glared back. For the first time in years, I felt brave. His dark blue eyes churned with rage, reflecting my defiant face. “I will castrate the man who planted that mark.” “Ooh! You broke the Vance Family rule against profanity! Hahaha!” I pointed and laughed. Silas’s ears turned bright red. He literally vanished—used a speed talisman to zoom away. Embarrassed? Angry? Both? I love dragging this ascetic monk down to earth. Watching him get flustered is my favorite hobby.

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After spending a year as the “School Bully’s” backup girlfriend, I still didn’t make the cut. He chose the good girl. On the phone, he dragged out his words, casually insulting me: “Sorry, Stella. Compared to Lily, you’re just too… cheap.” Everyone bet I would throw a tantrum. Or maybe get jealous and start a catfight with the good girl until we were both bleeding. Instead, I just said, “Oh.” I hung up and continued booking my flight to study abroad. Nobody knew I only approached Hunter to dodge a creepy stalker who wouldn’t leave me alone. Graduation was here. The acting was over. Later, Hunter flew to a dozen countries, finally cornering me red-eyed at an airport. “Stella, did you seriously play me like a fool from the very beginning?” 1 It was pouring rain on graduation day. Hunter invited me to a party. I didn’t go. So they started a livestream just for me. On screen, the whole crew was there. Hearing I wasn’t coming, the mood dipped instantly: “Wait, wasn’t today the day he picks between her and Lily? I was waiting for the drama. What’s up with Stella?” “I bet she knew Hunter wouldn’t pick her, so she’s hiding somewhere crying.” “LOL, the simp finally realized she’s not worthy. I told you she’d break.” For the past year, while I desperately chased Hunter, everyone treated me like a joke. The camera zoomed in on Hunter’s face. He was expressionless, sitting next to Lily, the “good girl” everyone thought was his perfect match. Hunter grabbed her chin: “Since Stella forfeited, you’re my girlfriend now. The only one allowed to kiss me.” The room erupted in cheers. Lily turned bright red, burying her head and playfully hitting him. “Stop it~” Hunter leaned in to kiss her, but someone shouted: “Honestly, Stella isn’t uglier than Lily. Hunter, why didn’t you pick her?” “Yeah, I remember you drove her home a few times and bought her Christmas gifts.” “Dude, look how cheap she acted. Obviously, she begged for it, right Hunter?” Hunter paused. Then he sneered: “Obviously.” Lily, ears still red, pouted. “Yeah, and Stella looks so desperate for love. Who knows how many guys she’s been with? She’s probably not clean.” The group burst into laughter. “Guess I’ll chase her in a few days then, see if I can get some action. She’s kinda hot. You cool with that, Hunter?” Hunter took a sip of his drink. “Why would I care?” His eyes drifted toward the camera lens. After a beat, he picked up his phone and dialed. “Hello, Stella.” The second I picked up, mocking laughter pierced my eardrum. “You really gotta tell her yourself for maximum damage.” “Hey, put it on speaker! Let’s hear how loud she cries.” “Hahaha record it!” I didn’t speak. I just heard Hunter’s lazy drawl, dragging out every syllable. “Stella, here’s the thing.” “It’s a shame, really. But you’re just too cheap and easy. I like girls like Lily who behave.” “So…” “Oh,” I said. I cut him off. Before he could continue, I hung up. 2 I stood by the window, booking a flight for two days later. After hanging up, I confirmed the time and airport, grabbed my ticket, and exhaled deeply. I watched the livestream. Notifications from classmates kept popping up on my phone; it was hard to miss. Hunter was the school’s untouchable bad boy. When he played basketball, the way his muscles flexed made every girl swoon. Usually, girls admired him from afar, too scared to approach. I was the first. Starting senior year, I “shamelessly” chased Hunter. I blocked his path after school, waited for him at the gates. By the third week, he finally acknowledged my existence. Right after me, the second pursuer appeared: Lily. Clearly, Hunter preferred her type. I ran three blocks to buy Hunter his favorite sports drink; he took a sip and tossed it. Lily bought a random water from the vending machine. Blushing, she handed it to him. He put it on his desk and didn’t touch it all afternoon, cherishing it. I waited two hours at the basketball court for him. Lily already had his number. She walked over with him, giggling. Seeing me, she covered her mouth. “Hunter, is she the girl everyone says harasses you?” Hunter glanced at me. That was the first thing he ever said to me directly. “Her? She’s not half as cute as you.” But I didn’t give up. After three months of effort, I finally earned the position of Hunter’s “backup girlfriend.” “As long as you need me, I’ll do anything. I won’t cling to you. It’s all one-sided on my part.” I lowered my head, standing in front of him. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze a mix of amusement and disgust. “Really? Are you that desperate?” I kept my head down, gritting my teeth. “Yes. All I want is to be around you more.” Hunter scoffed. “Interesting.” He walked away. But after that, everyone knew our relationship was ambiguous. He walked with Lily but called me to bring them food. Sometimes when he played ball alone, he called me to fetch rebounds. Classmates couldn’t guess who he really liked. When asked, Hunter laughed openly: “I don’t date. They know that.” So I was a backup. So was Lily. The only difference was Hunter promised he’d give her a title after graduation. The rumor mill turned it into a “Bachelor”-style choice between us. Unsurprisingly, I was destined to be the punchline. But honestly? I never took it seriously. A notification popped up: Hunter’s official relationship announcement on Instagram. He tagged me specifically. The photo was a silhouette of Hunter and Lily kissing. I didn’t look closely. I just noticed a familiar name in the comments: Ethan: Congrats. I smirked in disgust and fear. I should thank Hunter. If not for his terrifying reputation, I don’t know how many times that creepy, slimy stalker Ethan would have assaulted me. 3 In the VIP room. After hanging up, Hunter didn’t speak again. People whispered. “What did Stella say? Did you hear?” “She just said ‘Oh’.” “No way? Seriously? No reaction? She chased Hunter like a dog, ready 24/7. How could she not care?” “I bet the shock was too big. She froze.” At the table, people stood up to toast the new couple. Hunter barely reacted. He just smirked faintly and kept scrolling through his phone. Refresh. No comment from Stella. No new message. Hunter’s eyes grew darker. Others didn’t know Stella, but he knew. Her tone just now was flat, completely void of emotion. Like she heard something totally irrelevant to her life. But why? Usually, she lit up just seeing him. She hung up first? Suddenly, Lily’s best friend stood up, pouring wine indignantly. “Honestly, you guys should have been together ages ago. It’s all because of someone trying to be a homewrecker. So shameless, right Lily?” Lily pursed her lips shyly and nodded. “Can’t blame her. Even though Hunter liked me back then, she probably thought she had a chance.” “I don’t care. She better stop clinging to Hunter now. Can we beat her up and then delete her number?” Lily giggled. “Don’t be violent. Just have Hunter delete her.” She reached for Hunter’s phone. He slammed his hand down on it. “What are you doing?” Hunter glared at her. Lily froze. She’d seen Hunter angry before; it was never pretty. She swallowed her words. “N-Nothing.” Her eyes turned red, tears welling up. Hunter ignored her and stood up. “You guys have fun. I’m leaving.” He grabbed his jacket and walked out. Lily sat there, stunned. Outside, Hunter stared at his phone for a long time. He looked up at the moon, took a deep breath, and opened his chat with Stella. [Usually you’re desperate to stick to me. Are you dead today?] [Just because I’m official doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Don’t be too sad. Come out, I’ll comfort you. You have 30 minutes.] 4 I slept for 14 hours straight. Exams over, no more studying. I collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. I woke up at dusk. Dad called to remind me about packing. “Don’t forget your acceptance letter.” “Okay, Dad.” I packed, then checked my phone. Messages flooded the screen. My throat tightened. Unknown number. I knew it was Ethan. [Can I come to your house tonight?] [Leave the window open? Your security guard pulls hard, my arm hurt for days. But I was happy you looked at me.] [Hunter has a girlfriend now. Stop wasting time on him. He won’t stop us anymore.] [I heard you’re going to USC? I’ll rent a place near your dorm.] … I scrolled down. My teeth clenched uncontrollably. My body shook. Ethan. The most invisible guy in the class next door. The reason I approached Hunter. He noticed me freshman year. Sophomore year, I realized someone had been following me for a whole year. He mimicked my habits, my movements. He found out everything I liked. He sent love letters written while fantasizing about me at night. My desk was always missing a used eraser, an opened pack of tissues, a half-drunk water bottle. Every time I noticed, I went numb. The worst was that one time. I turned around on the street. I saw him. Walking fast, like he was about to pounce. “What are you doing!” He realized he was caught and laughed psychotically. “Nothing. Just looking at you.” Later, he followed me home, even climbed through my window at night. We called the cops, but he kept following me like a ghost. Then I became Hunter’s backup girlfriend. Ethan backed off for a year, scared to offend the big dog. Now he was back. Luckily, I graduated. I’m leaving the country. USC? Just a smokescreen. Thinking of this, I relaxed and booked a hotel. Flight in two days. One last hideout. But that night, I bumped into Hunter at a nearby convenience store. And Lily. He was staring at his phone. When we bumped into each other, he froze. “Stella?” I ignored him. Turned to leave. Then I saw a familiar shadow in the distance. Standing in the dark, staring at me unblinkingly. Goosebumps exploded all over my body. I whipped around and grabbed Hunter’s sleeve. “Where are you going? Can I come?” Lily froze, her eyes red instantly. She gripped Hunter’s hand. “Stella, Hunter and I are together now. Can you stop?” “Hunter, ignore her! I’m your girlfriend, she can’t steal you!” Hunter stared at me. Said nothing. After two seconds, he scoffed. “Stella, what is this? Did you forget I gave you 30 minutes?” 30 minutes? I was confused. I’d heard count-downs like that a million times. “Be here in 30 minutes or you’re fired as backup.” “Five minutes. Or I block you.” … Terror consumed me. I clung to Hunter. Almost begging: “I apologize for being late. Last time! Just let me stay near you for a bit, okay?” Lily started crying. Hunter ripped my hand away. He laughed, a cold, amused sound. “Stella, I thought you grew a backbone not replying to my texts.” “Turns out you’re still this cheap. Can’t live without a man? I look down on you.”

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Everyone knew that Sloan Caldwell had two personalities. My dominant self—the real me—loved the composed and steady Rhys Caldwell. My alternate self, however, loved the wild, reckless Jax Donovan. Two years ago, Jax was in a motorcycle accident at the track, and my usually compliant alternate personality violently seized control of my body. For two long years, I became Jax’s willing doormat. Until the day I overheard him talking to his friends in the VIP lounge. “You bet the guys you could lure out the alternate Sloan, even crashing your bike to do it.” “Now she’s chased you for two years, and you’re going to marry Willow Hart.” “Jax… are you telling me you feel nothing for Sloan?” From inside the private room, I heard Jax’s dismissive, almost amused voice. “I was just curious, trying to mess with her head. How was I supposed to know she’d suffocate the real Sloan for me?” 1 Hearing the noise, Jax immediately stood up and opened the rest area door. Seeing me, he looked momentarily flustered. “You… you heard something?” I suppressed the immediate, sharp anguish inside me, pointing to the helmet on the floor with a strained, fake smile. “Heard what? Didn’t you ask me to bring you your helmet? I ran so fast I tripped and dropped it.” Jax’s tension visibly eased, but in the very next second, his relaxed brow twisted into a deep, angry frown. He picked up the helmet and shouted at me, his eyes red with fury. “Sloan, was that on purpose?! You know that’s the one Willow gave me. Why couldn’t you be more careful!” My gaze dropped to where he was pointing. On the cheap, forty-dollar helmet—the kind you’d buy at a roadside stop—was a scratch thinner than a strand of hair. My heart went ice cold. I managed a soft, hollow, “I’m sorry.” Jax was obsessed with racing, and I knew a quality helmet could save your life. I had custom-ordered over a dozen different, cutting-edge helmets from Germany for him. Totaling over twenty thousand dollars, he never even glanced at them. But the forty-dollar helmet Willow picked up from a flea market? He treated it like a priceless relic. He even insisted on wearing that cheap piece of plastic every single time he competed. “An apology means nothing now, does it? Forget it. Get out of my way.” Jax shoved me aside and strode out the door. On the track, Jax was geared up, his red and white leathers making him look every bit the dashing, arrogant racer. Before the race started, he pushed up the dark visor of his helmet and scanned the spectator stands. The track camera followed his line of sight, sweeping across the audience. One of his buddies in front of me turned back and winked teasingly. “Hey, Sloan, Jax is looking at you!” Sure enough, Jax’s gaze was fixed on my section. I instinctively stood up, waving tentatively toward him. The camera paused on my face for a single second before quickly shifting. Then, cheers erupted from the front row seats, led by Willow Hart. “Go, Jax! You have to take first place, Honey!” She flashed a huge, beaming smile and a heart-sign for the camera. Only then did Jax pull his visor down, focusing on the pre-race routine. The front row was reserved for contestants’ families. Jax had allocated his two spots to Willow and his closest friend. The seat I was in? I’d waited five agonizing hours in line, only to have the tickets sell out just before my turn. I’d then paid a scalper five hundred dollars for a ticket in the back. But he was always like this, wasn’t he? I thought I could wear him down, convince him. Until I heard his words today. Jax, predictably, took first place again. The camera zoomed in as Willow excitedly ran onto the track and kissed him. I felt utterly hollow, standing up and stumbling out of the speedway. Late that night, Jax called me again. “Sloan, Booth 1 at The Apex Club. You have ten minutes to get here.” I heard other voices in the background. “You better hurry, or Jax might belong to someone else!” He hung up without waiting for a response. I hesitated for a few seconds, but the deeply ingrained habit of the alternate self won out, and I put on my coat. Due to the time crunch, I only threw on a simple black trench coat over my pajamas. My home was at least thirty minutes from the club. I arrived with literally one second to spare on his ten-minute ultimatum. I threw open the door to the booth. Jax was locked in a passionate, deep kiss with Willow Hart. The sound of hooting and cheering erupted around them. The moment he saw me, the hazy look in Jax’s eyes vanished. He quickly released Willow. “You came so fast? Don’t get the wrong idea, I just… I lost a round of Truth or Dare, and they dared me to…” 2 “Don’t be mad, Sloan. Come sit and play with us!” one of his buddies, a big guy named ‘Tank,’ coaxed. An expression of displeasure crossed Jax’s face. He glared at Tank. “Stop calling her that!” Tank quickly shut his mouth. “Jax… let’s just go home.” I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, stepping forward to gently pull at the hem of his jacket. A wicked, cocky smile spread across Jax’s face. He was all rogue charm. “You came all this way. You’re not going to drink a toast to my win?” Caught in his intense, seductive gaze, I completely forgot I was severely allergic to alcohol. The straight liquor burned its way down my throat, and I doubled over, coughing violently. “That’s not fair, Jax,” another friend chimed in. “Willow didn’t even have to drink!” Jax dropped the playful act. “She’s a girl, why would she drink hard liquor? Juice is fine for her. I’d drink it for her if I had to.” “Ooh-la-la, protective much!” Willow stood up, holding her juice glass, and came over to pat my back. She asked, gently and with false concern, “Sister, are you okay? Would you like some of the juice Jax got me?” “No, thank you.” I weakly pushed the glass away from my face. “Ah! Sister, how could you!” I felt a sudden, cold dampness spread over me. The next thing I knew, a teary, victimized Willow was nestled securely in Jax’s arms. Jax looked at me with open disgust. “If you didn’t want the juice, fine! Why did you have to shove her?” My eyes stung with tears, and I bit my lip hard. “I didn’t shove her!” Hiding in Jax’s embrace, Willow suddenly gasped. “Jax, look what Sister is wearing under her coat! It’s so… gross.” All eyes in the room turned to me. I looked down, confused, only to realize my black coat had fallen open. The orange juice had soaked my silk slip dress. The fabric clung to my skin, clearly outlining the shape of my chest. Jax’s eyes momentarily darkened. Mortified, I clutched the neck of my gown. Several of the men swallowed hard. “Sloan rushing here so fast… does she want to take Jax home and, you know… heh heh heh.” “I can’t believe it, Sloan. You always seemed so reserved, but who knew you were such a tease?” My face burned. I lowered my head, desperate to escape this public execution. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the allergy kicking in, but I felt intensely hot, with an unbearable itching across my arms and thighs. Jax seized my wrist tight. His gaze held a mix of mockery and a hidden, raw lust. “Why leave? You wore this because you wanted me, didn’t you? You wanted me to take you right here?” “Jax!” Willow’s face was a mask of sheer offense. Jax glanced at her, then back at me. “I’ll give you a chance. Go lie down on the sofa.” My body trembled. A tidal wave of shame washed over me. “Jax, I do love you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll sacrifice my dignity for you!” I violently wrenched my wrist free and scrambled out of the club. I drove straight to the pharmacy for allergy medication. When I got home, I saw Willow had posted an update. She was wearing a short, black mini-skirt, straddling Jax’s hundred-thousand-dollar Ducati, and wearing the cat-ear helmet he bought her. “My boyfriend brought me up the mountain road to feel the speed and the wind! Congrats on the first place again!” I remembered Jax had never let me touch his bike. The one time I insisted on riding, he cranked the speed past 120 mph and refused to let me hold his waist. Without a helmet, I nearly flew off the back, clutching the passenger rail for dear life. My mind felt faint, detached. I gripped my chest hard and whispered, “Hold on… just hold on.” The storm of emotions slowly subsided. I scrolled through Willow’s profile. Soon after, she posted again. 3 “Jax says that if you kiss the one you love at sunrise, you’ll be together forever. He just proposed to me!” I instantly recognized the diamond ring on her hand. It was the one Jax had taken me to the boutique to pick out just a few days ago. The salesperson had even congratulated me then, saying how lucky I was to have such a generous future husband. My phone rang again. It was Jax. Wasn’t he supposed to be on the mountain? I wanted to ignore it, but my hand, acting against my will, hit Answer. “I’m outside your building. Get down here.” Jax’s voice was, as always, cold and demanding. Seeing him, a bitter smile pulled at my lips. “Shouldn’t you be on the mountain with Willow? What do you want with me?” Jax’s eyes narrowed, a trace of invisible annoyance flickering within. “So you see me with her, and you’re completely unfazed?” I screamed out in frustration. “What else am I supposed to do?! Follow you around like before, watching the two of you making out?!” Jax’s face froze, and he fell silent. He opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes suddenly fixated on my neck. “What’s on your neck?” I gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “Thanks to you, it’s an allergic rash from the liquor.” Jax looked stunned, his lips slightly parted, a flicker of confusion and regret crossing his eyes. I noticed two motorbikes parked near the curb, and a knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I looked up, my voice trembling slightly as I asked, “Jax, what exactly do you want from me?” He suddenly moved closer, leaning down slightly, his voice low and mesmerizing. A key was pressed into my palm. “Sloan, ride this bike. Take one lap around Coastal Bay, and I’ll agree to be your boyfriend.” My breath caught. All the color drained from my face. Since that one terrifying high-speed ride with him, I had developed a deep, paralyzing phobia of motorcycles. Just watching him race made me sick with anxiety. Ride a bike? Impossible! But Jax grabbed my hand, electrifying me with his seductive gaze. “Sloan, didn’t you say you’d do anything for me?” Seeing my silence, Jax cupped my face. “Just ride it for a stretch, and I promise, I’ll settle down and dedicate myself to only you.” I involuntarily curled my fingers, and my tightly pressed lips parted. “Okay!” Jax gave a delighted chuckle, his eyes full of wicked triumph. I straddled the motorcycle, my hands shaking as I turned the key. The roar of the engine vibrated through my chest. I dropped the clutch, twisted the throttle, and shot forward like an arrow. Behind me, I faintly heard loud, roaring laughter. The sheer terror made me scream again and again until I finally crashed into a roadside barrier. My face was pale and slick with cold sweat. By the time Jax, Willow, and the others found me, I couldn’t speak a single word. Jax stopped his bike and moved to help me up. I fiercely shoved him away. I ground my teeth, tears streaming down my face. Jax’s throat bobbed. He slowly clenched his fists, and a flash of regret appeared in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I thought…” Willow rushed over, playfully punching Jax’s arm. “Sister, don’t be mad! I tried to stop Jax, but he just had to prove to me that he doesn’t love you!” In that moment, all hope shattered. I used every ounce of my remaining strength to slap Jax across the face. “Get lost!” The apology in Jax’s eyes instantly vanished. He laughed, a cold, hard sound. His voice dropped to a freezing point. “You said it. Don’t ever come crawling back to me.” The roar of his engine faded into the distance. My vision blurred, and something deep inside me rushed to the surface. Drained of all strength, I collapsed into the grass behind me. Jax didn’t know it, but from that moment on, he was no longer worthy of my love. 4 Ten minutes later, I opened my eyes. I looked at the motorcycle beside me and sighed. Then, I got up effortlessly, uprighted the bike, and fired the ignition. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion. A short while later, a high-performance BMW S1000RR tore through the street, carving corners with knee-dragging precision that was astonishingly skillful. I rode home and immediately dialed a number in the States. After hanging up, I lay in the bathtub until the water covered my mouth and nose. It was then I truly realized the other me was back. The alternate self, having lost all will to live, chose to fuse. She didn’t disappear; she became a part of my soul. But from now on, I was in control. Three days later, for the championship final, a new name appeared on the roster: Sloan Caldwell. On the track, Jax was exchanging smiles with Willow in the stands. When the announcer called my name, he nearly stalled his bike. Through my reflective visor, I saw his expression—a mixture of confusion and shock—and a flicker of disdain crossed my eyes. Jax scanned the line of racers, his eyes lingering on me for a moment. He finally left, looking disappointed. I was fully encased in my race suit, with chest and back protectors, and thick padding on my knees. My signature long hair was tucked under my helmet, making me look indistinguishable from any of the male racers. It would be impossible for him to recognize me as Sloan Caldwell. With half an hour left before the race, Willow walked onto the track to bring Jax a water bottle. Jax took off his cheap, forty-dollar helmet. Willow looked concerned. “Jax, I heard Sister’s name on the broadcast. Do you think she actually…” Jax tilted his head back, taking a long drink of water, his eyes full of scoffing disbelief. “You saw her ride. Sloan nearly killed herself the other day trying to ride that thing!” “There’s no way she’d race!” “Besides, I scanned the track, there are no women out here. It has to be someone with the same name.” Willow breathed a sigh of relief. Then, she gave him a coy, hopeful look. “You have to do great, Jax. My friends are huge fans, and they all bought tickets just to watch you!” “Don’t forget… what you promised me.” Jax’s eyes darted away. He muttered a deep, “I know.” Willow had been pressuring him to make their relationship public for a long time. He’d always held off because of me. But after that night, he’d finally agreed to her request. Still, why was he so desperately hoping I would show up? If I had just come back to him, just tried to hold onto him, maybe he would have tried to be with me. Jax’s eyes involuntarily drifted toward the spectator stands. But he never saw the familiar figure. He lowered his gaze, his hand instinctively going to his heart. It felt like a piece was missing, an empty void… The race officially began. At the referee’s signal, dozens of bikes took off, moving too fast to be anything but streaks of color. I twisted the throttle and rode with reckless abandon and sublime control, instantly breaking away from the pack. Jax tried to catch up, but through turn after turn, I pulled farther and farther away. My knee was grazing the tarmac on every corner. I could feel a single, anxious gaze fixed on me from the stands. I won first place with a time of 1 minute 25 seconds. Three minutes and three seconds faster than the second-place finisher, Jax Donovan. On the winners’ platform, I removed my helmet. A reporter gasped into his microphone. “It’s her! It really is her!” “The legend of Coastal Bay, the racer Sloan Caldwell, who disappeared for two years! She’s finally returned!!!”

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1 I was eating in the company breakroom. Suddenly, something slammed against my face. The herbal remedy I’d just placed in the company fridge this morning was now splattered all over my lunch. My colleague, Jenna, who was currently breastfeeding, was glaring at me, her face contorted with rage. “Willa, who told you to put this filthy concoction in the fridge? I told you, the company fridge is only for my son’s milk. Nothing else is allowed!” “Who knows what kind of disgusting disease your trashy medicine is for! If it infects my son, your life wouldn’t be enough to pay for it!” Her words sent a jolt of anger through me. I was ready to give her a piece of my mind. My coworker, Chelsea, quickly grabbed my arm. “Don’t, Willa. Her husband is Yax Croft, the heir to the Croft fortune!” “Our own boss has to suck up to her. If you go against her, do you even want to keep your job?” Husband? The Croft heir? I froze. The guy was wrapped around me just this morning. How was he suddenly someone else’s husband? … While I was still processing, Jenna had clearly overheard Chelsea. A smug, triumphant look spread across her face. “Hah. Scared now, are you? How dare you put your filthy, mystery medicine next to my breast milk?” Mystery medicine! This was a remedy prescribed by one of the country’s most celebrated physicians. Yax Croft himself had woken up at 4 a.m. to brew it for me. I shook off Chelsea’s hand and stood up to face her. “Jenna, this is a communal fridge, not your private property. I’ll put whatever I want in it, and it’s not your place to tell me otherwise.” “Besides,” I added, my voice rising, “the company provides a nursery with a dedicated refrigerator for you. But you use it to store your own snacks and drinks while you monopolize the public one. You’ve got some nerve!” A few colleagues around us nodded in silent agreement, clearly fed up with Jenna’s behavior. Anna, the new intern, looked like she was about to cry. Just last week, she’d put her lunch in the fridge, and Jenna had dumped the entire container over her head before screaming at her. I had wanted to stand up for her then, but she and the others had stopped me. I’d wondered why everyone was so tolerant. Now I knew. She was just a bully hiding behind someone else’s power. Jenna, however, showed no remorse. Her arrogance only grew. “So what? I even use Mr. Lewis’s private fridge in his office. Does he dare say a word? Who the hell do you think you are to challenge me? Go on, go tattle to the boss. Let’s see who gets fired!” At that, the murmuring colleagues immediately lowered their heads and fell silent. “What’s all this shouting about?” a stern voice cut in. It was our boss, Mr. Lewis. “Chelsea, you tell me.” After getting the gist of the situation, Mr. Lewis’s brow furrowed. He didn’t say a single word of reprimand to Jenna. Instead, he turned to me with an exasperated look. “Is that all this is about? Willa, honestly. Jenna’s situation is special. As a woman, you’ll be a mother one day yourself. Can’t you show a little empathy for her struggles?” “Let’s do this. You apologize to Jenna and pay her two thousand dollars for her trouble. We’ll call it even.” I almost laughed in his face. “I apologize? And pay her? Mr. Lewis, are you joking?” His face darkened. He shot a look at his male assistant, Mark, who was standing nearby. Mark quickly pulled me aside. “Willa, listen to me,” he whispered. “Don’t be stubborn. You really can’t afford to cross Jenna. Her husband is Yax Croft. The boss is hoping she’ll be his connection to the Croft family.” I let out a cold laugh. “What makes you all so sure her husband is Yax Croft?” Mark pulled out his phone and showed me Jenna’s social media feed. “Look, she’s been posting about it for a month.” The screen was filled with a month’s worth of Jenna’s ostentatious posts. Designer bags, expensive jewelry, you name it. And in every single post, there was a picture of her posing intimately with an older couple. The caption read: “Another day of being spoiled like a princess by my new family~ So grateful. You only know true happiness when you marry the right man and your in-laws adore you.” The older couple in the photo were Yax Croft’s parents. They were legends in the business world, their influence spanning countless industries. After seeing it, I didn’t say another word. I immediately called Yax. No answer. Just then, a flurry of footsteps sounded behind me. I turned to see Jenna grabbing her bag and rushing out the door. Confused, I walked over to Chelsea. “What’s going on?” She whispered, “Jenna just got a call. Sounds like something happened to her baby.” The mention of the child silenced me. Jenna was an awful person, but her baby was innocent. Still, I had to get to the bottom of the so-called “in-laws” on her social media. I kept messaging Yax, but by three in the afternoon, I still hadn’t heard back. Suddenly, our work group chat exploded with notifications tagging me. I opened it to see Jenna, on another rampage. She had posted a picture of her son’s cheek, on which there was a tiny red dot. “Willa, it’s all your fault! Your filthy medicine contaminated my milk and now my son has a rash! I’m telling you, my son is the future of the Croft family. If anything happens to him, your pathetic life and your family’s lives combined wouldn’t be enough to pay for it! You just wait, this isn’t over!” I stared at the picture. The dot was so small you could barely see it. I couldn’t help but laugh. I replied: “Jenna, I suggest you make an appointment with a psychiatrist.” Almost instantly, Mark messaged me privately. “Willa, get some flowers and a gift card ready. You’re going to the hospital with Mr. Lewis to visit Jenna’s son. You’re paying, as a show of goodwill.” Pay for a gift for the person who was slandering me? Not a chance. “Not going. No money.” “The boss said if you don’t go, you can forget about your salary and bonus.” Ha! As if labor laws were just for decoration. Besides, I didn’t really care about the money. “Whatever.” After sending the message, I remembered the photos from her social media feed. I had to figure this out. So I asked Mark, “Is her husband at the hospital, too?” He replied quickly. “Of course. That’s the only reason the boss is going.” Fine. I was going to see for myself who this “Yax Croft” really was. “I’ll go. But forget the flowers and gift card.” When we got to the hospital, the man was nowhere in sight. Mr. Lewis looked even more disappointed than I was. When Jenna saw me, her eyes were like poison darts. She ignored the fruit basket Mr. Lewis offered and shot a look at the nanny beside her. “Take the baby out for some fresh air. We don’t want him breathing in contaminated air from unsanitary people.” Then, her cold gaze fixed on me. She nodded to the two bodyguards at the door. “Hold her.” Before I could react, my arms were pinned behind my back. I couldn’t move. “Jenna, what do you think you’re doing!” I shouted. Mr. Lewis stood by, his lips moving, but not a single word came out. Jenna walked up to me. “What am I doing? I’m teaching you some manners!” Without another word, she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. My cheek burned with a fiery sting. “That was for running your mouth. You were so tough in the group chat. What are you now, huh? Nothing!” I slowly turned my head back, my eyes locked on her face. “Jenna, you. Are. Going. To. Regret. This.” Just then, my phone rang. The caller ID read “Husband.” Jenna snatched the phone from my pocket. Her eyes darted around as a sinister smile spread across her face. She crooked a finger at the terrified Mark. “You. Come here.” Mark, completely bewildered, walked over. Jenna whispered something quickly in his ear. His eyes went wide with a mixture of terror and reluctance. Jenna’s glare hardened. Mark glanced nervously at me, then gave a stiff nod. He answered the call and put it on speaker. At the same time, a bodyguard clamped a hand tightly over my mouth. “My love.” Yax’s voice came through the phone. “I was in a board meeting, my phone was on silent. I just saw your texts. Some colleague’s baby? I honestly have no idea what’s going on, are you—” “Your wife’s in the shower,” Mark interrupted, his voice loud and forced, following Jenna’s instructions. “Man, your wife is incredible. Married women are something else, so wild! She said you can’t satisfy her, that I’m the best she’s ever had! So just get used to those horns, buddy!” The line went dead. “Hahahahaha!” Jenna shrieked with laughter, doubling over. “See? So much fun! Now even your own man doesn’t want you. A slut is a slut!” I closed my eyes in despair. She was done for. Absolutely, utterly done for. I had known Yax since we were kids. I knew him better than anyone. He would have already figured out I was in trouble. Anyone who had ever hurt me before had learned what he was like when he was angry. He was like a force of nature. He wouldn’t stop until he had destroyed them, ruined their families, left them with nothing. And he was definitely on his way to the hospital right now. He had secretly installed a GPS tracker on my phone. I’d always known, I just never said anything. When Jenna finally finished laughing, she turned to the bodyguards. “Alright, I’ve had my fun. Strip her clothes off and throw her outside!” “Stop! Don’t you dare!” I struggled with all my might, my eyes darting from one person to the next. “I am Yax Croft’s wife! Any of you who touches me will regret it!” The room fell silent. “Hahahaha! You’re Yax Croft’s wife? Willa, did you get scared stupid? Are you daydreaming now?” Jenna howled. “I am the Croft family’s daughter-in-law!” Mr. Lewis scurried over, his voice placating. “Willa, stop talking nonsense! Just get on your knees and apologize to Jenna. Maybe she’ll let this go!” “Apologize for what!” Jenna snapped, cutting him off. “I’m not accepting any apology from this little bitch. I’m going to have her clothes ripped off and have her thrown out on the street. She’s going to learn what happens when you cross me!” At her command, the two bodyguards slammed me against the wall. They started tearing at my coat and the collar of my shirt. I fought back, kicking and struggling, but the difference in strength was too great. In that moment of chaos and desperation, a voice cut through the noise. “Stop!”

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The summer after my freshman year of college, my boss at the shady motel where I worked secretly took naked photos of me. My mom forced me to settle with him. She said, “He’s already seen you naked. Who knows if he has videos too?” “You might be shameless, but I still have a reputation. Your sister still has a reputation!” Tears filled my eyes but refused to fall. I looked at her, stunned. “What if this happened to Lily?” 1 Before I could finish, my mom slapped me across the face. Hard. Her face was purple with rage, her whole body shaking, as if my hypothetical question was a knife aimed directly at my little sister. “Don’t you dare curse your sister!” I knew exactly who my mother was, but hearing her say it still felt like a claw ripping through my chest. Before summer break started, the old security guard at my college, the one who fed the stray cats, died of heatstroke. The school announced emergency dorm renovations. We were kicked out. I texted my mom, asking for $25 so I could buy a bus ticket home. New York to Buffalo. Seven hours on a Greyhound. The cheapest ticket possible. $24.50. She refused instantly. “Where are we supposed to get money? Can’t you be more frugal?” “Your sister starts prep for art school in two years. We just hired a tutor from Juilliard. One lesson is $200. We don’t have extra money for you.” My dad was listening on the other end. He chimed in loudly: “Sarah, look at the neighbor’s kid, Jenny. The second school let out, she got a job at the mall. I heard she made a couple thousand just in commission last month.” Then they both asked me the same question. If Jenny can do it, why can’t you? It’s only three months. Why can’t you get a job? Why? I opened my mouth but said nothing. Because Jenny lives in Buffalo. She goes to college there. She has a house to go back to after work. Me? In the massive city of New York, the only thing I owned was one-fourth of a bunk bed in a dorm room. Oh wait, not anymore. The school was renovating to install AC and new furniture after the heatstroke incident. My roommates were planning a trip to Korea. They were scheming to take the train instead of flying to save the difference from their parents’ budget. My dorm leader, a local girl, got picked up by her parents for even a three-day weekend. Everyone was excited for summer. Everyone except me. I couldn’t even force a smile. Because I was terrified to ask my parents for money. Before college, my mom sat me down with a calculator and a spreadsheet. “Breakfast: one egg, one milk. Two dollars.” “Lunch: veggies and rice. Three dollars.” “Dinner: noodles and a bun. Five dollars.” “Ten dollars a day for food. That’s three hundred a month. I’ll give you another three hundred for ‘extras.’ Six hundred total. That’s plenty.” What she didn’t say was that she would dole out this meager six hundred dollars week by week. The first week of freshman year, the RA told us we needed to pay a $200 insurance fee. My mom didn’t believe me. “I paid your tuition. I paid your book fees. Thousands of dollars! How could there be another fee?” Through the cracked screen of my old Android, my mom’s face was blurry, but her voice was piercing. “Go find your RA. Go find the dean. I want to ask them personally if they really need to take this $200!” “Sarah, if I find out you’re lying to get money, you can forget about school! It’s a waste anyway. Liars don’t succeed.” I had no choice. I went to the RA. To this day, the pity in her eyes makes me want to disappear. That $200 was just the start. For a year, whenever there was an unexpected fee, I stalled. But periods don’t wait. It comes like a flood, staining pants and sheets. I had to beg my roommates for pads, for a few dollars, promising to pay them back when my weekly allowance came in or when I got paid from a part-time gig. Money was a mountain crushing the life out of my college experience. My bank account never had more than $20. I used the cheapest 3-in-1 men’s shampoo because it was on sale. When everyone talked about going to concerts or hot pot, I stayed silent. I didn’t even know what the inside of a hot pot restaurant looked like. I guarded my pathetic dignity and drew a line between me and my classmates. And now, with my face stinging from her slap, my mom was still ranting. “If you weren’t out whoring around, how would someone get photos like that?” “You’re disgusting, and you have the nerve to drag your sister into this?!” “Sarah, you really are just like that dead old woman!” 2 The “dead old woman” was my grandma. My name is Sarah. Grandma named me. I was born the year SARS hit. My dad owned an internet café. Due to the regulations, the business was shut down for months. Poverty defined my mother’s pregnancy. No fruit, no protein. Just stress and my dad’s constant frowning. My mom had nowhere to vent, so she blamed me. “If not for this kid, we’d be in California by now. Worst timing ever.” To make it worse, I was born during a historic heatwave. My mom was in labor for 30 hours. The doctor suggested a C-section. My dad asked how much it cost and how long the recovery was. Then he said no. My mom suffered for two days and tore badly before I finally came out. How do I know this? Because the moment I was born, my mom dumped me at my grandma’s house and left for the city with my dad to make money. Whenever I asked about them, Grandma told me the story of my birth. That was the only connection I had with them. When they left, Grandma took me to the train station. They were in the car; Grandma held me outside the window. She waved and asked, “What’s her name? We need a name for the birth certificate!” My mom looked icy. She wouldn’t even look at Grandma. Dad had blamed Grandma for the C-section costs argument, so Mom hated her. Finally, annoyed, she snapped: “So annoying. My friend in the city made sixty grand in six months. If not for this kid, we’d have a hundred grand by now.” “Useless thing. Doesn’t give me a moment of peace. Just sorrow!” The train whistle blew. Grandma was hard of hearing. She misheard “Sorrow” (Sa-rah in the noise) as “Sarah.” She told me later that Mom named me Sarah because she hoped I would bring joy. I grew up believing that lie, waiting for them to come back. I waited year after year. I sat on the porch until I wore a groove in the wood. When I was ready for elementary school, Mom finally called. “Send the older one to the city. She can watch her sister.” That’s when I learned they had been living in the suburbs for years and had another daughter. My sister was different. She was born in 2008, the year of the Olympics. The economy was booming. They bought a house before she was born. After she arrived, the value tripled. So before I even met her, I heard her name. A name filled with hope, the opposite of my burden. Lily. 3 Police Station. A female officer blocked my mom. “Ma’am! This is a police station! No hitting!” My cheek burned. But my mom, restrained by the officer, looked at me like a predator. “You’ve always been manipulative!” “You told the school to send your grades to my phone! I know you! You just wanted your sister to see them!” “Look at you. How dare you compare yourself to her?!” Compare? I wouldn’t dare. The scale of love in my family was permanently tipped toward Lily. She was young. She was talented. Dancing was hard work. My mom’s mantra: “We suffer now to support Lily. When she becomes a principal dancer, she’ll take care of us all!” But the only person “suffering” and “cutting back” was me. Three bedrooms. The big sunny one was Lily’s. The one with the balcony was my parents’. The north-facing room was turned into a dance studio with mirrors. Where did I sleep? The attic. Half a window. No sun. Piles of junk. Leaks when it rained. Even then, Lily complained. When I came down to use the bathroom at night, she’d hug Mom and whisper: “It sounds like a ghost walking. Scary.” Mom would scream at me: “Go back up! Who told you to come down?!” I used to lie in that attic, telling myself: College will be better. In college, I’ll have a dorm. A real bed. A desk. I won’t have to sneak around like a thief to pee. I had no idea that in college, poverty would be a different kind of torture. When Mom refused to let me come home, I tried to find a job. But I had no experience, could only work three months, and needed housing. Only the shady motel near campus would take me. Front desk. $1,500 a month. Room and board included. Then came the day the school emailed grades to parents. That day, my mom exploded. She seemed to forget she was the one who refused to pay for my ticket home. “School’s out and you’re not home? Where are you whoring around?!” “You’re grown now, wings are hard, huh? Don’t care about your family? Your sister got scolded by her dance teacher yesterday and cried all day! Where were you?! Not a peep!” She screamed for thirty minutes. In the background, I heard my dad comforting Lily. Finally, she delivered the verdict: “If you don’t want to come home, then don’t come back! Ever!” “Figure out your own tuition next semester!” “Mom?!” I gasped. Click. She hung up. Two seconds later, a text from Dad. [Sarah, Mom is just upset because Lily got yelled at. Don’t take it to heart.] [But can you tell the school not to send your grades? Lily saw your 4.0 GPA and had a breakdown…] I stared at the screen. My heartbeat drowned out the lobby noise. Every word pushed me further away. They were a happy family of three. I was the extra. 4 I stood at the motel front desk, silent for a long time. I was so lost in thought I didn’t notice the hand reaching out behind me. It squeezed my shoulder. Not painful, but disgusting. I jumped. It was the boss. “Sarah, I heard you on the phone. Money trouble?” He was old, almost my dad’s age. Since I started, he’d been creepy. Touching me, knocking on the female staff dorm door at night. The cleaning lady, a tough older woman, had scared him off by yelling, “Who’s there?!” Now, facing him, I stepped back. “No. No trouble.” He squeezed past me to get a soda from the mini-fridge, pressing his fat stomach against my back. I felt suffocated. I wanted to scream. You have a wife and daughter! But I didn’t dare. Because I had no money. Poverty stripped away my dignity. I had no confidence to fight back. Before leaving, he pinched my shoulder again. “You know where to find me if you need help.” I clenched my fists, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Payday is tomorrow. Any issues?” he asked. I deflated. “No issues.” That evening, I lay on the iron bunk in the staff room. The cleaning lady asked if I wanted dinner. The boss added a chicken leg for everyone. Thinking of his eyes, I felt sick. My stomach growled, but I said no. I scrolled through my phone. My roommates were in Korea, posting food pics. My dorm leader, Jen, posted a pic of a stray dog she rescued. Fed him a whole pack of sausages and he was still hungry! Had to buy a bun too! The dog looked sleek and happy on her leather sofa. I laughed bitterly. The dog lived better than me. I scrolled down. I sat up straight. It was Lily. The first photo was her and my parents standing at the gate of Juilliard, smiling. [Thanks Mom and Dad for taking me to my dream school! See you in two years, Juilliard!] The comments were full of relatives praising her. [Go Lily!] My parents replied to every single one. Except one. My aunt asked: [You’re all in New York? Where is Sarah?] Ignored.

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To take over the family airline, my grandfather insisted I rotate through the flight attendant position for a week. On my first day, I encountered a man brandishing a Platinum Card and acting like a petty tyrant toward the crew. “Do you know what this Platinum Card means? It can buy the miserable lives of every single one of you!” “That bow is too shallow. Is it a bad back or just disrespect? Ninety degrees! Hold it for a hundred minutes!” “What kind of hogwash are they serving in Economy? I’ll bless you with some premium ingredients!” I was about to intervene, but the flight attendant next to me quickly stopped me. “He’s the older brother of our CEO’s personal assistant. In our airline…” She leaned in conspiratorially and pointed upward. “You have a chance of survival if you offend our CEO, Ethan Bell. But if you offend his assistant… you’ll be utterly ruined.” I was stunned into silence, and honestly, a little amused. I reached for the satellite phone and dialed my grandfather. “Grandfather, tell the pilot to execute an immediate landing at the nearest airport. When we land, I want to see my divorce certificate from Ethan Bell.” 1 Today was the first day of my undercover rotation. I stood at the cabin door, maintaining a standard, professional smile as I welcomed the boarding passengers. Most passengers were kind and nodded cordially. Until a man in a bubblegum-pink Chanel tweed suit appeared at the jetway. He was clutching a shiny Platinum Card, his critical gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. “New here? That explains the total lack of decorum!” “Do you know what this Platinum Card means? It can buy the miserable lives of every single one of you!” “That bow is too shallow. Is it a bad back or just disrespect? Ninety degrees! Hold it for a hundred minutes!” Following the standard protocol, I offered a slight bow and a professional smile. “Good morning, sir. Welcome aboard.” That single word, “sir,” was enough to unleash hell. 2 His footsteps halted abruptly, his voice dripping with theatrical annoyance. “How should I put this? In the flight attendant profession, a cute smile isn’t enough. You need to have some situational awareness!” He pointed to his outfit. “Look at me. From my hair to my heels, what part of me looks like a ‘sir’? Call. Me. Ms. Kai!” Sarah, the senior attendant greeting passengers with me, looked horrified. She quickly snatched my arm, shoved herself forward, and dipped into a rigid, ninety-degree bow. “Our deepest apologies! Ms. Kai, good morning! She’s a new hire and hasn’t been properly trained, please forgive the oversight!” The man snorted dismissively through his nose, rolled his eyes at us, and strutted into the First Class cabin. Sarah immediately whispered to me, “That’s Kai Foster. A Platinum Card member. Serve him perfectly, or one complaint will ruin our entire crew’s career and bonus pool.” 3 I stiffened. Our airline had only issued three Platinum Cards. Two went to my grandfather’s oldest friends. And the third… I personally gave it to my husband, the current CEO, Ethan Bell, to use for the most crucial corporate relationships. But why would Ethan Bell entrust the Platinum Card—the symbol of our airline’s highest honor and absolute trust—to this outlandish man? I forcefully suppressed the rising turmoil and suspicion in my chest. For now, ensuring the smooth operation of the flight and caring for all passengers was my primary job. It was also a perfect opportunity to observe, under Ethan Bell’s esteemed leadership, exactly how his Platinum-level guest behaved, and what my frontline staff were being forced to endure. 4 Right after takeoff, Kai immediately pressed the call button. I walked over. He was lounging with crossed legs, not even bothering to open his eyes. “A cup of warm water. Forty-five degrees Celsius. Not a degree more, not a degree less. I need to take my medication right now.” I hurried to prepare it, but because I needed to mix in cold water to precisely regulate the temperature, I was delayed by exactly one minute. That single minute caused him to explode. When I rushed the cup to his seat, he slammed his hand down on the tray table. “What kind of service is this? Check the time! You missed my medication window by a whole minute! I’m taking birth control! Do you have any idea what the consequences are?” “If I end up pregnant, are you prepared to take responsibility?” Every eye in First Class snapped toward him. Though his makeup was heavy and he wore a skirt suit, his prominent Adam’s apple and firm facial structure made it obvious to everyone that he was a man. I struggled to maintain my composure. “Ms. Kai, I am sincerely sorry, but regulating the water temperature takes a moment.” He snatched the cup from my hand and, with no mercy, threw the water directly onto my chest, soaking my uniform. “Honestly, how did a clumsy pig like you manage to climb to this position? I bet you offered the pilots some ‘special services’ to get here. You disgusting plague! Get ready for the complaint that will fire you!” 5 My nails dug into my palms, my fist clenched. A scorching wave of fury went straight to my head. Just as I was about to lose control, Sarah shot forward and shielded me. “I’m so sorry! Ms. Kai! She is truly new, I apologize on her behalf! Please, please, don’t upset yourself. Your precious health isn’t worth getting angry over!” As she was speaking, she gripped my wrist hard, whispering an urgent plea only I could hear: “Hold it! Don’t you dare! Think of the complaint! Our entire team will lose our bonuses and face grounding! He’s not worth it, the trash! Let me handle him!” Kai Foster watched Sarah’s desperate deference, finally achieving the sense of superiority he craved. He slowly pulled out a tissue to wipe his hands. “Hmph. At least you old employees understand the rules.” His voice was a tone of condescending charity. “Come on. I’m going with you to catering!” 6 Catering? Airline catering has extremely strict safety and sanitation regulations. There was no way he could just walk in. “Ms. Kai, passengers are not permitted to enter the catering area. It’s regulation…” I tried to dissuade him. Before I could finish, Sarah yanked my arm again. “Are you still not getting it? His sister is Sienna Foster. She’s the CEO’s favorite personal assistant.” “You have a chance of survival if you offend our CEO, Ethan Bell, but if you offend his little assistant, Sienna Foster, you’ll be utterly ruined.” “The CEO practically does whatever she tells him! Everyone in the company whispers that she’s going to be the new Mrs. Bell! Our jobs are one word from her away from being terminated! You’re still on probation, don’t be a hero!” The new Mrs. Bell? My husband, Ethan Bell’s… new wife? Kai noticed my moment of stunned silence and, mistaking it for fear, let out a venomous, mocking laugh. “Oh, look! The name Ethan Bell finally made her cower?” “Let me tell you, a man like the CEO is not someone a low-level pig like you can provoke! He can decide your fate with a single sentence. Get it?” 7 In the brief seconds I was frozen, Kai had already barged into the catering area. “Ugh, what kind of hogwash do they eat in Economy?” He disdainfully picked up a piece of a vegetable with his fingertip, then violently flung it away. Next, he pulled an exquisite metal tin from his bag, tapping his nail against the side. “Looking at their poor lives, they’ve probably never seen anything good. Fine, I’m in a good mood today. I’ll bless them with some premium black truffle powder! Let them open their eyes to quality!” With that, he twisted open the tin and was about to sprinkle the contents onto the meals. “Ms. Kai! Absolutely not!” The Crew Chief, Olivia, finally broke. She shot forward, standing determinedly in front of the catering cart. Her voice was frantic but firm. “Airline food safety protocol absolutely forbids adding any outside food or seasoning to the crew-prepared meals. This is for the safety of all our passengers! Please, you must understand!” “Protocol? Safety?” Kai laughed as if he’d heard a joke. “You think my food is less safe than your garbage? Do you know this little tin cost more than your annual salary?” “Get out of my way!” Olivia stood her ground. “Ms. Kai, this is a matter of principle! If there is any issue, we cannot bear the responsibility! Please, don’t make this difficult for us!” Seeing that the Crew Chief dared to stop him repeatedly, Kai’s face instantly darkened to a thunderous storm. He pulled out his phone and initiated a video call. “Sienna, look at this! These flight attendants have revolted! They won’t let me add seasoning to the food! And they dare talk back to me!” On the other end, a delicate, sweet voice came through the speaker. “Brother, don’t get worked up. Give the phone to the Crew Chief.” Kai triumphantly shoved the phone in Olivia’s face. Sienna Foster’s voice instantly turned bone-chillingly cold. “All of you, kneel down and apologize to my brother immediately! Otherwise, every single one of you will be fired for severe misconduct and blacklisted from the airline industry forever! I mean every word!” 8 The air in the catering area solidified. Olivia’s lips trembled, tears of shame welling in her eyes. Sarah and the other flight attendants were deathly pale, exchanging desperate glances, their eyes full of struggle. Sienna, seeing their hesitation, gave a cold laugh. “Fine. No kneeling, huh? You’ve got tough spines, huh? You’ll regret this!” Immediately, the video feed began to shake violently. Sienna had run straight into the CEO’s private conference room! As the camera stabilized, the full view of the room became clear— The long conference table was filled with executives whose faces were grave, and the projection screen displayed the airline’s second-half strategic planning PPT. Ethan Bell was at the head of the table, listening to a report. Seeing Sienna suddenly burst in, he first froze, but his expression showed no annoyance at the interruption. Instead, it was instantly filled with deep concern. “Ethan, honey, huhu.” Sienna completely ignored the astonished looks of the executives. She ran straight to Ethan, practically collapsing onto the armrest of his chair. “Look at what the flight attendants are doing! They ganged up to bully my brother. He just asked for one small thing, and they yelled at him and insulted him! My brother has a heart condition, and they made him cry! Ethan, you have to defend us!” As she spoke, she leaned against Ethan, her body soft and boneless. Tears streamed down her face like a broken string of pearls, as if she had suffered an unthinkable injustice. She was a completely different person from the sharp-tongued woman from moments ago. Ethan Bell’s face instantly darkened. He didn’t ask a single question about the facts. All his attention was focused on the trembling, weeping Sienna in his arms. “Shhh, baby, don’t cry. Your eyes will get all puffy and ruined. Why cry over something so small? Hmm? I’m here. No one is allowed to bully you or your family.” He gently wiped her tears, then lifted his head, looking at the phone screen, his tone plummeting to freezing point. “Are you all deaf? Didn’t you hear what Sienna said?” “I am ordering you right now, do exactly as Mr. Kai demands! Kneel and apologize!” “If I don’t see your compliance in the next three seconds…” Before he could finish his threat, I walked straight into the center of the phone camera’s view. My figure, along with my calm expression, was clearly visible on the screen. “Ethan Bell. Are you sure you want me to kneel?” 9 “Wife?” The word ripped from Ethan’s mouth like a thunderclap. Those two words briefly ignited a spark of hope in the desperate flight attendants. But it vanished instantly. Ethan’s surprise was quickly replaced by a deeper feeling of annoyance and irritation. He didn’t even release his arm from around Sienna, only rubbing his brow impatiently with his free hand. “Audrey, what are you doing here?” “Your ‘new job’ last night… was an intern flight attendant at my own airline?” I nodded, my expression perfectly composed. Ethan’s gaze swept over my soaked uniform. His voice deepened. “Stop being dramatic. Just do what Mr. Kai asked and apologize. We’ll discuss this farce after the plane lands.” At that statement, not just I, but all the flight attendants in the catering area, were stunned. Their shock turned back into despair, and finally, only numbness remained. Sienna, seeing the reaction, nestled further into Ethan’s embrace, adding fuel to the fire. “Oh, Ethan, so this is Audrey. She was so mean, honey. I think she scared my brother badly!” Ethan immediately patted her back with sympathy. “Sienna and her brother are good, simple people. They just want a sincere apology.” “Be a good girl, Audrey. Just kneel and apologize to Mr. Kai. Don’t make this difficult for me.” 10 I looked at him, and then I smiled—a cold, cutting smile that held no warmth whatsoever. “Ethan Bell, do you remember the vow you made on your knees before our wedding?” “Now! It’s time for you to honor your commitment!” With that, I didn’t wait for his reaction. I ended the call. I didn’t stop for a second, turning sharply and walking to the crew storage cabinet. I pulled out a much heavier, secure satellite phone. “Grandfather.” “A passenger is interfering with normal cabin service and disrupting the security of the aircraft.” “Notify the pilot to execute an immediate landing at the nearest airport.” “And when we land, I want to see my divorce certificate from Ethan Bell.” 11 Kai Foster stared at the satellite phone in my hand. After two seconds of stunned silence, he burst into mocking laughter. “Oh my God, the new girl is putting on a show! You think holding a fake satellite phone and calling ‘Grandfather’ makes you an heiress?” His eyes were full of scorn. “Do you have any idea who the CEO, Ethan Bell, is? In this airline industry, when he stamps his foot, the whole ground shakes!” I gave a cold laugh, not even sparing him a glance. “Ethan Bell? He’s nothing.” He was merely a son-in-law to the Harrington family. Years ago, Ethan’s grandfather had done a favor for mine. The Harrington family never forgot a debt of honor. So, when Ethan’s family fell on hard times, my grandfather approached me, hoping I would fulfill the long-ago arrangement. I saw that he was capable and seemed honest enough. I agreed. Before the wedding, I called him to the study and made my terms perfectly clear: “Ethan Bell, loyalty is my absolute bottom line. The day you harbor a second thought or betray me, I will file for divorce immediately.” What was his reply then? He knelt before my grandfather, swearing on his life that he would never fail me. If he broke that vow, he would walk away with nothing, forever disgraced. My grandfather and I had one final contingency. We never told him the true extent of the Harrington family’s wealth. So Ethan Bell always believed I was just a “regular rich girl.” He also truly believed that he sat on the CEO’s throne purely because of his own hard work and superior ability. What an utter fool. Today, I would make sure he saw exactly what he was without my name—Audrey Lane—behind him. 12 My grandfather’s voice came through the receiver, calm but with an undeniable edge of seriousness. “My dear, have you thought this through?” “Yes.” I didn’t hesitate for a second. Grandfather was silent for three seconds, then gave a command to the person next to him. “Execute the order as my granddaughter has instructed. Immediately.” The moment the words finished, another voice—calm and highly efficient—cut in. It was Mr. Vance, my grandfather’s chief aide. “Understood, Mr. Harrington.” In the background, I heard the rapid clicking of a keyboard and clear instructions being broadcast: “AeroSky One to Tower. Flight G-1024 is initiating a maximum-priority emergency landing. Clear the airspace. Give them landing priority.” “Legal department: Initiate full asset separation. Ethan Bell is to be stripped of all assets. The signed divorce certificate must be delivered to the emergency VIP lounge within half an hour.” Mr. Vance’s final message came through: “Madam, everything is secured. Landing at Midcoast Airport in thirty minutes.” “The dossiers for the Platinum Card perpetrator and the accomplice, Sienna Foster, will be sent to you in ten minutes.” 13 Kai Foster, listening to the clear instructions from the other end of the line, laughed hysterically again. “Ha ha ha! ‘AeroSky One’? ‘Clear the airspace’? Keep acting! Just you wait! When we land, my sister will talk to the CEO, and you won’t even know how you died!” However, his laughter was cut short. The aircraft announcement system came on. This time, the pilot’s voice carried an unprecedented severity. “Ladies and gentlemen, please be advised. Due to circumstances involving a security matter, this flight is initiating an emergency landing at Midcoast Airport. Please return to your seats immediately and fasten your seat belts…” The mocking expression on Kai’s face instantly froze! He frantically pulled out his phone to call Sienna. Before he could dial, two security officers quickly walked over and confiscated his phone. “Mr. Foster, you are suspected of jeopardizing flight safety. Please cooperate with the investigation.” Moments after Kai was escorted away, I received a text from Ethan Bell. Ethan Bell: Audrey, that is quite enough drama. Sienna is very delicate; she would never be as hysterical as you! I want to be perfectly clear: I love you! But I need to be with her for at least three years. In the meantime, you need to be a quiet, dutiful wife and not cause me problems. If I get bored after three years, I might consider coming back to our marriage. Ethan Bell: Don’t forget, without me, Ethan Bell, you, Audrey Lane, are nothing. I picked up my phone and replied calmly: Audrey Lane: Be at Midcoast Airport in thirty minutes. Audrey Lane: I have a huge gift for you. Audrey Lane: You can choose not to come. If you don’t, I hand Kai over to the police. Then, I blocked his number.

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I was bleeding out, a casualty of a demanding job and a marriage that ran me ragged, yet I couldn’t get my husband, Alex Harding, on the phone. His text finally dropped as I was wheeled into recovery, post-procedure: Swamped. Will get there later. I tried to swallow the familiar wave of disappointment, convincing myself that he must be dealing with a crisis—a merger, a regulatory filing, something truly urgent. Then I saw the update. Sierra Miller, his intern, had posted a story. “Accidentally sliced my finger while filing, was just going to slap on a Band-Aid, but the Boss insisted on driving me straight to Urgent Care. How do I ever thank him?” The accompanying selfie was a perfect soft-focus shot of her looking fragile and fetching, with Alex’s chiseled jaw and expensive suit just visible in the background. The comments section was already a bonfire, full of giddy emojis from Alex’s long-term employees: “I’m screaming,” “Ship it, 99%.” The old me—the girl I had been for the last three years—would have started screaming and crying, demanding a full accounting and an immediate explanation. The new me, however, just tapped out a single, calm reply. Suggest you take the opportunity. A classic “thank you” dinner is so passé. Less than ten seconds later, Alex, the man I couldn’t reach for an emergency, launched a full-scale assault of frantic calls. 1 In the past, if Alex Harding called, no matter how important the meeting or how delicate the conversation, I dropped everything. But this time, I set my phone to silent. I just watched the screen light up repeatedly, then fade to black, a mesmerizing pattern of digital desperation. Finally, he switched to voicemails—a barrage of sixty-second clips, full of his signature corporate fury. “Amelia, did you honestly think before posting that comment? Do you realize the damage you’re causing?” “You’ve twisted a completely professional colleague helping an intern into something filthy! Your mind is diseased!” “Sia is hysterically crying, threatening to quit out of shame. You have one minute to delete that comment and post a public apology. Tell them you were overcome by jealousy and made a baseless accusation. You need to fix this and make it up to her.” Listening to his voice, I could picture the rigid set of his jaw, the hard glint in his eyes. For years, a mere furrow in his brow was enough to make me apologize unconditionally, tearfully begging for his forgiveness. We were college sweethearts. I fell for him first—the reserved, brilliant “iceberg” of the campus—and it took three years of relentless effort to finally thaw him, to claim my spot next to him. Before and after the wedding, I lived by the creed of ceaseless, selfless devotion. Even when his affection remained distant and cool, I convinced myself that dedication would eventually lead to the golden dawn of his true love. When the pregnancy test was positive, I was euphoric. I foolishly believed this child would be the catalyst, the moment his shallow affection would deepen into real connection. But then Sierra Miller arrived, and all my wishful thinking shattered. She’d been at the company for less than three months—still just an intern—yet she’d already become his inseparable shadow. He offered her genuine smiles. He checked if she was cold or tired. He remembered details about her life. When she twisted an ankle, he canceled a five-thousand-person video conference, scooping her up and carrying her himself to get ice and a massage. I had never seen this version of Alex Harding. Yet, even when riddled with pain from his neglect, I clung to the hope that the baby’s birth might salvage just a fraction of his attention and love. Now, even that last, desperate hope was gone, destroyed entirely by his carelessness. Listening to his rage now, all I felt was a dull, aching numbness, a complete absence of the frantic need to please him. I picked up the phone. My fingers didn’t tremble. “Alex Harding, we’re getting divorced.” I didn’t wait for his inevitable explosion. I just powered the phone off. 2 Back at the penthouse, I didn’t fall into my old routine, waiting on the sofa like a lost soul staring out to sea. I took the prescribed painkillers, followed the doctor’s orders, and climbed into bed early. The heavy, prescribed sleep quickly claimed me. I’d expected Alex to do what he always did when we fought: vanish for days, refusing to answer my calls—a corporate-level ghosting. But that night, he came home early. Through the fog of my sleep, I felt his presence—a cautious, hesitant weight standing at the foot of the bed. Perhaps he saw the pharmacy haul—the stack of medication on my nightstand. In the end, he didn’t wake me. The next morning, when I finally woke up, Alex was surprisingly attentive, almost solicitous. He walked over, holding a mug of warm milk, his voice laced with an unfamiliar guilt. “I thought your emergency was just some trivial work issue—I got back to the office and only then learned you’d been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance because of stress. You shouldn’t push yourself so hard. The baby… is it okay?” I didn’t reach for the mug. I just looked at him. “I’m lactose intolerant, Alex. I can’t drink milk.” He froze, his hand suspended in mid-air, a look of genuine surprise on his face. He genuinely didn’t remember. I was hospitalized the second year of our marriage after drinking dairy, and since then, I hadn’t seen a carton of whole milk in the house. Yet here it was, in my hands, a silent testament to his blindness. “Oh. Right.” He lowered the mug, turning awkwardly toward the refrigerator. “Well… I brought back some mango mousse from the office yesterday. Want to try that?” When he held the delicate pastry box out, I could smell the sickly sweet, tropical scent of mango even through the packaging. My stomach immediately twisted with a deep, physiological revulsion. I turned my head away. “I’m allergic to mangoes. Did you forget that too?” The forced pleasantness vanished from Alex’s face. The guilt was replaced by an irritated impatience. He angrily tossed the mousse into the stainless-steel trash can. “Everyone else can manage. Why do you have to be so difficult about absolutely everything?” I stared at the discarded mango mousse. It looked painfully familiar. I remembered Sia Miller’s post from two days ago. She was holding an identical box, the caption reading: “Boss got me this mango mousse. Sweeter than my first crush. My absolute favorite.” Alex hadn’t spontaneously remembered to prepare me breakfast. He’d simply grabbed the leftovers of what he bought for Sia and offered it to me as a thoughtless pacifier. For years, I’d chased him, meticulously memorizing his every preference. Yet, he’d erased every detail about me, while engraving a complete stranger’s tastes into his memory. I was profoundly, utterly tired. I skipped the polite dance. “Alex, what’s your decision? About the divorce I asked for last night?” His face went instantly dark. “Amelia Rose. You know my Grandmother’s eightieth birthday is tomorrow. You’re doing this now to spite me?” He looked at me with smug certainty. “Besides, everyone knows you’re obsessed with me. You were pregnant with my child. You’d never leave.” Watching his unshakeable confidence, I felt a detached, cold amusement. Before I could reply, a gentle knock came at the door. “Mr. Harding? It’s me. I came to apologize to Mrs. Harding.” Sia Miller’s voice, a delicate, practiced coo. Alex, without asking, immediately opened the door. “Mrs. Harding, I am so sorry about my post yesterday. I truly only meant to show how supportive Mr. Harding is of his staff. I never intended for you to misunderstand.” She placed a gift box near me, smiling with the calculated innocence of a choir girl. “These gifts are a small token of my regret. Please accept them, Mrs. Harding.” I looked into the box: Unpasteurized Soft Cheeses, a bottle of high-end Merlot, a health supplement that promised to “boost circulation,” and a container of raw oysters. Every single item was a flashing red warning for a pregnant woman. 3 I stared at the lavish gift box, the nausea in my gut intensifying—not from the morning, but from sheer disgust. Alex stood next to Sia, his brow slightly furrowed, clearly sensing the tension, but I spoke before he could. “Ms. Miller,” I said, my voice cutting through the manufactured sweetness. “Are these a gift, or are they meant to be my final send-off?” Sia’s innocent smile instantly crumbled. She instinctively retreated, tucking herself close to Alex’s side. “Mrs. Harding, I—what are you saying? I spent my entire three months of savings on these rare, expensive health supplements. How can you misinterpret my good intentions like this?” “Misinterpret?” I gave a dry, humorless laugh, pushing the box back toward her. “Unpasteurized cheeses carry a high risk of Listeria. Merlot is an absolute no-go. Those oysters are an immediate food poisoning risk. And that ‘circulation booster’ supplement? Saffron, Red Ginseng—all are blood thinners, designed to stimulate the uterus. Every single item here is either dangerous or potentially abortifacient.” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You graduated from a top-tier university. Are you really telling me you don’t know basic prenatal common sense? Or were you operating with full intent, coming here under the guise of an apology to ensure I never carry a child to term again?” Sia’s eyes welled up instantly, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She grabbed Alex’s sleeve and began to sob, a perfect performance.

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