Category: English

The first thing I did when I was reborn was reject the $30,000 allowance my parents sent me and immediately take out a massive predatory loan. Why? Because in my past life, my roommate, Tiffany, was bound to a “System” that allowed her to swap finances with me. No matter how much money my family sent, my account balance always showed $300. Meanwhile, she used my money to become the campus “It Girl,” dating the star quarterback, while spreading rumors that I was a bitter scholarship student she was generously supporting. When I angrily opened my bank app to prove my parents’ transfers, I was shocked to find all the numbers had changed to $300. Tiffany, tears in her eyes, held up her phone: “Look, my parents send me $30,000 every month. I don’t understand why Chloe refuses to face reality…” I was drowned in a tsunami of insults and cyberbullying. Every family member who tried to help me met with a tragic accident. My health deteriorated rapidly. In the end, the quarterback, trying to “avenge” Tiffany, had me dragged into the woods where I was tortured to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. This time, I want to see how long Tiffany can keep up her act with a massive debt on her back. Chapter 1 “Chloe Vance, you are disgusting. All those designer clothes, and it turns out you’re just leeching off charity? Even Tiffany isn’t this flashy.” “Spending someone else’s money like water? It’s heinous. Only someone as kind as Tiffany would tolerate you. Anyone else would have kicked you out!” “Say something! Stop playing dead! Kneel and apologize to Tiffany right now, or don’t blame us for getting rough!” Hearing the familiar curses ringing in my ears, I was dazed for a moment before realizing I had truly been reborn. I was back to the day Tiffany used her System to pose as a wealthy heiress, branding me as the poor student she supported. Seeing my silence, Tiffany stepped forward, speaking with sickening “empathy”: “Chloe, you aren’t going to say this money is from your parents, are you? Trying to claim you are the rich daughter? Why don’t you show us your balance?” “Or, have your parents transfer you a few thousand right now. That would shut us all up.” In my past life, I fell for it. I stared at the $300 balance in disbelief and frantically asked my parents for transfers. I was desperate to prove myself, but I only fueled her success, letting her harvest huge sums to cement her identity. And the money my parents sent turned into transfers of a few dollars the moment I held up my phone. Instantly, I became a pariah, condemned for vanity and selfishness, forcing my “poor” parents to bleed for me. While I pondered how to counter this System, Matt, the star quarterback who had been silent, suddenly spoke: “Chloe Vance, you’re still stubborn? A vain, selfish person like you doesn’t deserve Tiffany’s help. Thinking about how you stalked me makes me sick!” He frowned in disgust, shoving me hard. This was the same guy who approached me during orientation, complimenting my necklace and asking where to buy one for his mom. Now, I was pushed to the ground, shoulder throbbing, while the crowd cheered for Matt. Tiffany, emboldened, bit her lip and looked at me with teary eyes, making no move to help me up: “Chloe, I never thought we’d come to this. As roommates, if you just admitted your mistake, I wouldn’t hold a grudge. Why do you insist on lying…” “Did I say I was lying?” I gritted my teeth, standing up and forcing a smile. “I’m sorry, Heiress Tiffany. I was vain. I used the money you gave me to buy these things. As punishment, I’ll donate them to charity immediately.” “I hope you won’t hold this against me and will continue to support me.” The crowd, ready with more insults, choked on their words, looking at each other in confusion. Tiffany froze, eyes flickering: “Chloe, you don’t have to… if you want to admit your mistake, maybe sell them first and then donate the cash? What if the charity damages them…” “It’s fine. I trust professionals.” If I sold them first, the money would just transfer to her, right? I turned around, my expression cold. I logged into a shady loan app and applied for a $100 loan. As expected, the money didn’t hit my account. I refreshed the page. The borrower’s name had changed to Tiffany! The System swapped everything, even the source of funds. I almost laughed out loud. Tiffany, your nightmare is here. Chapter 2 I took out predatory loans totaling $60,000 in one go. Then I called my parents, refusing any further allowance, and applied for off-campus housing. I would live off existing supplies. Despite this, my chest felt tight. The System’s drain on my health was still real. At noon, walking out of the campus gates with my small bag, I saw Tiffany and Matt waiting by the road, followed by a crowd of sycophants. Seeing me, their faces twisted into sneers. “Chloe!” Tiffany shouted, running towards me with a look of joy: “What a coincidence! We were just talking about you. I thought, ‘give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.’ I decided not to just give you money anymore, but help you find a job!” Money really works wonders. Tiffany was decked out in designer gear, her insecurity gone. She looked nothing like the girl who used to eat plain rice and potatoes. I wondered what dark magic she used to bind me to this System. She shoved a stack of flyers into my hand, looking at me earnestly: “These are high-paying jobs I picked for you. Once you earn money with your own hands and donate it, people won’t hate you anymore.” “I strained my eyes looking for these. I’m taking everyone to a five-star hotel for lunch. This time, it’s your treat.” I had never seen such brazenness. Taking my parents’ money and making me work to support her further? The flyers were garbage. Some were even ads for selling eggs! Matt and the crowd walked over, sneering: “Chloe, why are you standing there? Some jobs need you to apply now. They won’t wait.” “Tiffany’s parents just sent her another $60,000. That’s enough for your parents to retire on, and you’re just standing here?” I noticed a flashy Rolex on Matt’s wrist, worth at least tens of thousands. Clearly a gift. I smirked. Tiffany was spending big to chase a guy. No wonder she was desperate for my money. “I think as a student, I should focus on studying,” I smiled. “From now on, I’ll live on $300 a month. Not a penny more. Feel free to supervise.” I turned to leave, but someone grabbed my arm. “Is this the attitude a charity case takes with her benefactor?” Matt shook me off like I was trash: “Tiffany was kind enough to find you jobs. Why won’t you go? Do you like being a parasite?!” His cold stare overlapped with the look he gave the people who murdered me in my past life. My breath hitched. He threw me to the ground and walked away with Tiffany. A realization hit me. Matt didn’t treat me this way just to please Tiffany. He genuinely hated me. Chapter 3 It was a long time before my family’s driver finally arrived in the Rolls-Royce. I was drenched in sweat. He parked leisurely, honking twice for me to come over. “Uncle Mike, why are you so late?” I was on the verge of heatstroke, my back soaked. He was clearly in a good mood, but hearing my complaint, he stiffened: “You know, you need to fix that princess attitude. I’m your driver, not your slave. I’m your elder, show some respect.” “It was just a short wait. No other girl is as delicate as you. I wouldn’t let my son date someone like you!” I looked at my phone, scrolling through my classmates’ posts. [OMG, Matt’s family is loaded! We rode in a Rolls-Royce! So this is the starlight headliner!] [So fancy! Next time I hope there’s a Maybach!] [If we didn’t waste time lecturing that shameless pauper, we would have been enjoying the AC sooner!] I froze. Wasn’t that my car? I did a quick background check. Uncle Mike’s son… was Matt! It all made sense. No wonder my attempts to prove my identity were always thwarted. There was a mole. And no wonder Matt wanted me dead. He and Tiffany were in this together! My hand slowly touched the necklace Matt had “borrowed” during orientation. It seemed that was when Tiffany, the poor student, suddenly became rich. I used a meal card and didn’t check my balance often, giving her the opening. “Miss Chloe, what are you doing?” Uncle Mike slammed the brakes, looking at my hand in the rearview mirror with panic. “That’s the coming-of-age gift from the Madam. You’re not taking it off, are you?” His reaction confirmed everything. “Of course not. Just touching it.” I laughed and closed my eyes. The driver let out a sigh of relief. Back at the villa, I immediately took off the necklace and called my dad to fire Uncle Mike for rudeness. After a meal prepared by our French chef, I lay in bed. Sure enough, without the necklace, the tightness in my chest vanished. It felt like a heavy stone had been lifted. Not wanting to alert them, I found a duplicate necklace in my jewelry box and put it on. Now, Tiffany, all you have left is that $60,000 debt. Chapter 4 In gym class that afternoon, everyone collapsed on the grass after the 800-meter run, faces red. I was sweating, out of breath. “Chloe!” Tiffany called out. She put on her heiress act, commanding me: “We’re all tired. Go buy water for everyone. Just outside the gate. Hurry back.” She calculated well. I had been to the infirmary three times recently; that $300 must be gone. If I didn’t have money, I’d have to ask my parents. Then she could reap the rewards and the popularity. But now, free from the System, I wasn’t playing. “Easy for you to say. There are eighty people here. Why don’t you go?” Tiffany bit her lip, looking at me with feigned difficulty: “Chloe, I just want to give you a chance to make up with everyone. I sent you so much money, you couldn’t have spent it all. Go buy water as a contribution to the group.” Her eyes glinted. “If you really have no money, ask your parents. They have to support you.” The overheated classmates chimed in angrily: “Tiffany treated us to a five-star lunch. Look how generous she is. Same room, different class. You only know how to take!” “Disobeying Miss Tiffany? You’ve got a death wish. Know your place!” “Poor and stingy. Is twenty bucks gonna kill you? My legs are breaking, go get me a Gatorade!” I looked at these greedy fence-sitters and sneered: “So righteous. You’re tired, so I deserve to be your servant?” Rapid footsteps approached from behind. “Chloe Vance! You bitch!” Matt stormed over, furious about his father being fired but unable to confront me directly. Having hit me before with no consequences, he habitually tried to slap me. I dodged. “Yo, isn’t this the rich heir with the Rolls-Royce? Trying to hit me? Did I offend you?” I asked innocently, setting the rhythm: “It’s so hot, buying water isn’t enough. Why don’t you and Heiress Tiffany call a few luxury cars to take everyone for a drive?” The students got excited, clamoring for rides. The couple’s faces turned ugly. I drawled: “What are you waiting for, Young Master Matt? Are you a fake rich kid like me?” This triggered Matt. He pointed at my nose and cursed: “Open your dog eyes! My shoes cost thousands! This watch is forty grand! My shirt is eight hundred! Who are you to question me? Your whole outfit isn’t worth a hundred bucks! Am I right, guys?” The students were melting and didn’t care about his bragging. They just urged: “Matt, call the cars! We didn’t get enough at lunch.” “Yeah, squeezing in one car wasn’t fun. Plus we had to listen to you and Tiffany flirt. You owe us.” “Tiffany, why don’t you call?” Tiffany knew spending money on these ingrates was pointless. Their greed was endless. She wouldn’t agree. “I… I feel dizzy. Heatstroke…” Tiffany stumbled, pretending to faint. Matt scooped her up and ran. I excused myself to the bathroom and followed them.

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My heiress best friend, Mimi, was about to leave for Europe to expand her business. Before she left, she tearfully begged her brother to look after her “darling baby girl,” who apparently couldn’t survive on her own. Over the phone, a man’s voice—cool, lazy, and laced with disdain—drifted through. “What kind of turtle is so high-maintenance? It needs temperature and humidity control?” Mimi’s whining was completely shameless. “Come on, Matt! Just think of it as your good deed for the year. Can you just watch her for three months? Please?” “Fine. Send it over. But let me be clear: if it dies, I’m not paying for a new one.” I clutched the phone, my palms sweating as I listened to the voice that had haunted my dreams. What Matt Shen didn’t know was that the so-called “turtle” was a living, breathing person. And that person was me, Rosie Lin, the girl who had been silently in love with him from the shadows for six long years. I had to get myself packed and delivered to him. Immediately. 1 My best friend, Mimi, was a woman of action. Less than half an hour after she hung up, her driver was already waiting outside my apartment building. “Miss Lin, Miss Shen instructed me to ensure your safe arrival at Mr. Shen’s residence.” I stared at the stretch limousine and fell into a deep thought. I was moving in temporarily, not ascending to a throne. And more importantly, did Matt even know that the “turtle” was me? Probably not. After all, in Mimi’s words, I was basically a decorative pet who did nothing but eat and sleep. With a heart torn between the thrill of a honeymoon and the dread of facing a firing squad, I knocked on the door of Matt’s apartment. It was a sprawling condo in the city center, one unit per floor. Mimi had told me Matt bought it to escape the noise of their family estate. The doorbell chimed three times. I heard the scuff of slippers against the floor from inside—slow, heavy footsteps that seemed to tread directly on my last nerve. Click. The door swung open. Matt had obviously just woken up. He was dressed in dark gray silk pajamas, the collar gaping open to reveal the faint outline of his abs and the shadow of a dangerously sexy V-line. A few strands of his hair stuck up in a messy rebellion, and his face was a thundercloud of “don’t you dare speak to me” morning grumpiness. He squinted, his gaze lingering on my face for a bare two seconds before sliding past me, looking at the empty air behind me. “Mimi sent you?” My fingers were trembling so hard I could barely control them. I just nodded dumbly. “Mhm.” Matt yawned, stepping aside to let me in. “Come on in.” He turned and walked back into the apartment, his voice still rough with sleep. “Leave the suitcase by the door. Find a spot for yourself somewhere.” “I’m going back to bed.” “Oh, right.” He took two steps, then stopped and turned back to me. Those almond-shaped eyes of his, slightly upturned, scanned me with a critical look. “Where’s the thing?” I blinked. “What?” Matt pointed at my empty hands, then at my enormous suitcase. “Mimi’s precious little treasure.” “The turtle.” “Where is it? In the suitcase?” He frowned, as if the idea was completely absurd. “Hope it doesn’t suffocate in there.” I was frozen to the spot, my face flushing a deep, mortified crimson. How was I supposed to tell him? There was no turtle. The “darling baby girl” that needed to be fed and cared for… Was me. My mouth opened, but before I could explain, Matt waved a dismissive hand, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Whatever. I’ll deal with it when I wake up.” “Just don’t let it crawl all over the place. I’m a neat freak.” And with that, he slammed his bedroom door shut, leaving me standing alone in the vast, empty living room, feeling like a complete idiot caught in a hurricane. He really, genuinely thought I was a delivery person dropping off a turtle. 2 I sat on the sofa like a statue for two hours, waging a fierce internal war. Maybe I should just leave? This misunderstanding is way too big. But the thought of living under the same roof as Matt for three whole months was a temptation I couldn’t resist. That single thought crushed all my instincts to flee. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t bear to leave. Matt was a senior from my high school and Mimi’s older brother. He was known for his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude, looking at everyone as if they were idiots. But I’d seen him feed stray cats when he thought no one was looking. I’d seen him give his umbrella to an old woman picking through trash in a downpour, then sprint back to his car through the rain. He wasn’t unkind; he was just too proud to show it. As I was lost in thought, the bedroom door opened again. Matt emerged, showered and changed into a set of casual loungewear. He looked refreshed, the sharp edges of his morning temper softened. He was sipping from a bottle of ice water as he walked into the living room. He stopped short when he saw me still sitting there. “You’re still here?” I shot up from the sofa, my palms slick with sweat. “Um… Matt.” He raised an eyebrow, strolling over to the armchair opposite me and sinking into it, crossing his long legs casually. “You know me?” “I’m Mimi’s best friend, Rosie Lin.” He gave a slight nod, his reaction placid. “Oh. Rosie.” “I think she’s mentioned you. The one who can’t take care of herself…” My soul withered. Mimi, what on earth have you been telling him about me? Matt set his water bottle down, his eyes scanning the room once more. “So, where’s the turtle?” “I wanted to see what kind it is. I did a quick search, and some tortoises are pretty high-maintenance. You have to control the temperature and humidity.” He had actually researched how to care for a turtle. I took a deep breath, deciding it was time to come clean. “Matt, actually…” “There is no turtle.” He froze, his gaze snapping to mine. “What do you mean?” I pointed a shaky finger at myself, my voice barely a whisper. “The one Mimi was talking about…” “That’s me.” The air in the room solidified. For a full minute, the silence was so absolute you could have heard a pin drop. Matt just stared at me. He looked me up and down, a slow, meticulous appraisal that made my skin burn. Finally, he let out a short laugh. It wasn’t mocking; it was the sound of someone confronting the utterly absurd. “Did Mimi hit her head on something?” He pulled out his phone and immediately started a video call with her. She picked up instantly. Her face appeared on the screen, the background noise suggesting she was in an airport lounge. “Jules! Did you get Rosie? Be nice, she’s really shy!” Matt flipped the camera around to show me sitting awkwardly on the sofa. “This is the turtle you wanted me to raise?” Mimi was completely unfazed. “My darling girl! What’s the problem?” “Rosie’s not feeling well, and she has low blood sugar. I didn’t want her living alone,” she said, her voice full of righteous indignation. “Besides, you’re on vacation with nothing to do. It’s just one extra plate at the table.” Matt scoffed. “I’m your brother, not your nanny.” “And besides,” he added, his eyes landing on me with a playful glint, “this breed… looks like a handful.” My face exploded in a blush. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. Mimi shrieked from the phone. “Matt Shen! You promised me! You can’t go back on your word!” “If you dare kick Rosie out, I’ll tell Mom that the girl you brought to that blind date was a hired actress!” Matt’s expression darkened. “Mimi, are you trying to get yourself killed?” “Just tell me, are you going to keep her or not?” The two of them bickered through the screen while I sat trapped in the middle—small, pathetic, and utterly helpless. Finally, Matt ended the call with a frustrated sigh. He tossed his phone onto the sofa and looked at me. “Fine,” he said. “You can stay.” “The guest room is on the left. Get yourself settled.” Feeling like I’d just been granted a royal pardon, I grabbed my suitcase and made a break for it. “Wait.” His voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned around stiffly. Matt was leaning back against the sofa, his fingertips drumming a light rhythm on his knee. “Since Mimi entrusted you to me, let’s get a few things straight.” “I have a bad temper, and I don’t like waiting on people.” “If you’re hungry, order takeout. Don’t expect me to cook for you.” I nodded frantically. “I know! I can take care of myself!” He let out a short, disbelieving huff. “We’ll see about that.” 3 The first day of our cohabitation passed peacefully. Aside from his sharp tongue, Matt was actually a pretty good roommate. He mostly ignored me, which was a relief. I was happy to make myself as invisible as possible. Until the next morning. I’m an early riser, so I was up at six. I figured since I was living in his house, I should at least try to be useful. I crept into the kitchen, determined to make breakfast. Fried eggs, bacon, and hot milk. Simple. Except I had severely underestimated the complexity of Matt’s high-tech stove. I turned the flame up way too high. The oil in the pan instantly started smoking. The moment the eggs hit the pan, they sizzled violently, and a plume of black smoke erupted. In my panic to turn off the stove, I knocked over the bottle of cooking oil. CRASH! The kitchen was a disaster. As I stood there, spatula in hand, completely lost, a cool voice came from behind me. “Are you trying to blow up my kitchen?” I jumped, the spatula clattering into the smoking pan. I whipped around to see Matt standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, a look on his face you’d give a complete idiot. “I-I’m so sorry…” My eyes started to well up. “I just wanted to make breakfast…” Matt walked past me and expertly switched off the stove. He turned on the exhaust fan and threw open the window, all in one smooth, practiced motion. He glanced at the two black, carbonized lumps in the pan, then at me, smelling faintly of smoke and grease. He sighed. “Mimi was right.” “You really can’t take care of yourself.” Shame washed over me. I stared at my feet. “Get out,” he commanded. “Huh?” “Go wash your face and change your clothes.” He gave me a gentle nudge towards the door. “You stink of oil. It’s disgusting.” I scurried back to my room in disgrace. When I emerged, clean and changed, two plates of breakfast were already on the dining table. Perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs, golden-brown toast, and a glass of warm milk. Matt was sitting across from me, methodically cutting his bacon. He saw me and jutted his chin towards the empty chair. “Eat.” I sat down, feeling flustered and grateful. “Did… did you make this?” “Who else? The cleaning fairy?” he retorted without looking up. But as he spoke his cutting words, he pushed the plate of bacon he had just cut across the table to me. “I don’t eat the lean parts. This is for you.” Something soft and warm nudged my heart. He remembered. At a high school gathering once, I had meticulously picked all the fatty pieces out of my pork dish. Everyone else had laughed at me for being so picky. Only Matt, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, had silently traded his plate of lean meat for mine. He remembered that? “Thank you,” I said softly. Matt grunted. “Don’t get any ideas.” “I just don’t want Mimi coming back from Europe to murder me for mistreating her precious ‘turtle’.” I took a bite of toast to hide the smile creeping across my face. Being his “turtle” wasn’t so bad after all. 4 Life continued this way for a quiet, peaceful two weeks. Against all odds, Matt was actually taking pretty good care of me. I would wake up ten minutes before him to preheat the coffee machine, and he would make breakfast for both of us when he got up. If he came home early from work, he’d bring back dessert, or sometimes a roasted sweet potato from a street vendor. They were always my favorite things. This comfortable routine started to create an illusion in my mind, as if we had been living together for a very, very long time. Until a phone call shattered the peace. It was a Friday night. Matt was in his study working, and I was curled up on the living room sofa watching a movie. My phone suddenly buzzed. It was an unknown number, a local area code. My heart gave a violent lurch, and a sense of foreboding washed over me. After a few seconds of hesitation, I answered. “Hello?” A ragged, heavy breath came through the receiver, followed by a voice that had haunted my nightmares for a decade. “Well, well, little girl. You’re good at hiding.”

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“In court, I’m gonna say he touched me here.” I watched on my security camera as my own mother coached my eight-year-old daughter—a child with Down syndrome—to commit perjury. The lie was designed to strip me of my daughter, my reputation, and my freedom. The Build-A-Bear I bought her was laughing at me from the back seat, so I did the only thing I could: I sewed a voice recorder into its belly. For three weeks, I became the world’s greatest actor, installing tiny cameras everywhere, gathering irrefutable proof of their monstrous plot. Now, in the packed courtroom, my daughter clutches the bear, ready to deliver the final, devastating lie. But she doesn’t know her “Mister Snuggles” is about to testify on my behalf. 1 On my way home from work, my home security camera activated. On it, I saw my mother in the living room, coaching my eight-year-old daughter. “In court, I’m gonna say he touched me here.” My daughter was pointing at her private parts, while my mother hugged her and told her she was a good girl. I almost swerved off the road, watching my daughter smile about how she was going to ruin my life in three weeks’ time. The surprise Build-A-Bear I’d bought her was laughing at me from the back seat. The photos of Julie my mother had sent earlier now seemed contaminated. But instead of getting angry and acting on impulse like college-me would have, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I sewed a recording device into the Build-A-Bear before driving home. “Grandma’s here!” Julie squealed when I walked through the door 20 minutes later, running to me with the same innocent face that had just been rehearsing my destruction. “I know, sweetheart,” I said, handing her the Build-A-Bear. “Mister Snuggles has a new friend for you.” My mother smiled that grandmother smile I’d trusted for 42 years. “You spoil her, Daniel. How was work?” “The usual.” I kissed Julie’s forehead, my stomach churning. “Thanks for watching her, Mom.” Over the next two and a half weeks, I became the world’s greatest actor. I installed cameras in Julie’s dollhouse, her jewelry box, even inside the old tablet she used for games. Every device was legally purchased and placed in my own home, in items I’d bought. My lawyer would later call it genius. Tuesday, my mother brought Disney brochures to my daughter. “For after the bad man goes away,” she whispered to Julie, who was ecstatic about the holiday and seemed to have no idea of the consequences she was doing. On Thursday, they practiced Julie’s testimony again. “Remember baby, tears help. The judge needs to see you’re scared of Daddy.” On Saturday, she gave Julie a new American Girl doll. “This is for being such a brave girl about our secret.” Each night, I’d transfer the recordings to three separate cloud services and a physical drive in my office safe. Then I’d tuck my daughter in, bringing her milk and cookies before calling her a good girl. It wasn’t her fault. She had Down syndrome and didn’t understand the gravity situation. I couldn’t be mad at her. When young children do bad things, you point the finger at the adults in their life. The court date arrived three weeks later. The room was packed for what everyone thought was day three of our custody battle. Jessica, my ex-wife, sat with her lawyer, looking confident. She’d been pushing for full custody with supervised visits only. My siblings sat behind my mother. “Your Honor,” Jessica’s lawyer announced. “We’d like to call Julie Grimes to the stand.” My eight-year-old daughter walked in clutching her Build-A-Bear. She wouldn’t look at me. The bailiff helped her onto the witness stand, adjusting the microphone to her height. “Julie, sweetheart,” Jessica’s lawyer said. “I know this is scary, but can you tell the judge what you told your mommy and grandma?” Julie’s little voice shook. “Daddy… Daddy touches me in bad places.” The courtroom gasped. Jessica dabbed her eyes. My mother reached over to squeeze Jessica’s hand in support. “Where does he touch you?” Julie pointed to her private areas. “There. He says it’s our special secret.” I felt my lawyer’s hand on my arm, keeping me seated. My siblings were staring at me in horror. “How long has this been happening, Julie?” “A long time. He said if I told anyone, Mommy would get hurt.” Jessica broke into performative sobs. The CPS workers were furiously taking notes. The judge’s face had turned to stone. “Julie, one last question,” the lawyer continued. “Do you feel safe with your Daddy?” Julie started crying, coached tears. “No. I’m scared of him. I want to live with Mommy and Grandma forever.” “No further questions.” The judge looked at my lawyer. “Does the defense wish to cross-examine?” “Your Honor,” my lawyer stood. “Before we proceed, we need to submit critical evidence that will recontextualize this testimony.” “This is a delay tactic!” Jessica’s lawyer protested. “Your Honor, I have 18 days of video evidence that this child has been coached to give false testimony.”

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I was snapped walking into a villa with my sister, sparking a massive scandal that exploded to the top of the trending list. My ex-girlfriend went absolutely feral. Every time the internet sleuths dug up a photo of me and my “mystery woman,” my ex would clap back by dropping a photo of us from the past. I’ve seen people deny rumors before. I’ve never seen someone try to out-scandal a scandal with their own receipts. Netizens were losing it: What is happening today? Is the Ice Queen A-Lister having a public meltdown? She kept posting, one after another, until the internet begged her to stop. Too much tea! We’re drowning! 1 My mom doesn’t have many hobbies, but she loves “designing” clothes. It just so happened that Gwen and I both had clear schedules—no shoots for me, no concerts for her—so Mom summoned us home for dinner. Since our family lives in a gated community with military-grade security, we let our guards down and drove in together. “Come here, look! I made matching family outfits for the four of us!” I stared at the garment in front of me with a grimace. A perfectly good Hermes shirt, absolutely butchered. I tried to be gentle. “Mom, embroidering a letter onto a Hermes shirt doesn’t exactly count as ‘designing’.” My dad immediately jumped to her defense. “What do you know? This letter is the cherry on top. It elevates the whole piece. It’s avant-garde.” I muttered under my breath, ” pretty sure you don’t put the cherry on top before you bake the cake.” My dad, the ultimate wife-guy, glared at me. “Wear it. Your mother spent days stitching these. I’m putting mine on right now.” He threw on the black shirt. Honestly, the man is fifty, hits the gym daily, and looks like a silver fox. He could wear a trash bag and make it look like couture. Mom looked at him with literal heart eyes. “Honey, you look so handsome! I’ll make you five more.” Fine. Let the lovebirds have their moment. I held the shirt. “I’ll wear it tomorrow.” Gwen, seeing me dodge the bullet, quickly stashed hers away. “Me too. Tomorrow.” The next morning, I tried to sneak out, but Mom and Dad were already waiting in the living room like ambush predators. “Dad, aren’t you going to the office?” “I’m packing some organic fruit and veg for you guys to take back.” Right. He dug up half the backyard to plant a 5,000-square-foot garden just so he could eat “farm-to-table.” I pouted. “It’s heavy. Let Gwen carry it.” Dad lectured us while the housekeeper loaded the bags. “Take it all. Stop ordering Uber Eats. Look how skinny you two are.” Mom frowned at us. “Why haven’t you changed into your outfits?” Defeated, Gwen dragged two bags of produce, and we both walked out wearing the “custom” family shirts, heading back to the city. 2 I hadn’t even reached my agency when the internet imploded. A rival agency had camped paparazzi outside our family home for 24 hours. They got everything. Me and Gwen, entering and leaving together. [Daily Tea V: Top Idol Ryan and A-List Pop Princess Gwen spotted entering luxury villa together! After spending the night, they emerged in COUPLE OUTFITS carrying groceries. Looks like they’ve been cohabiting for a while. Stay tuned for details.] #RyanGwenDating rocketed to #1 on Trending. When I got to the office garage, Gwen’s sports car was already there. She opened my door. “Bro, the security guard took a bribe to let them in. Dad already fired him. How do we word the joint statement? I’ll follow your lead.” I adjusted my sunglasses while my assistant hit the elevator button. “PR and Legal are already upstairs. Let’s go.” As the story fermented, Twitter became a war zone. Gwen is a top-tier idol. A dating scandal is nuclear fallout for her career. Her fanboys were ready to crucify me. The comments were universally savage. They called me a cradle-robber and shameless. They called her blind and lacking career ambition. Yeah, mostly they were just dragging me. We’ve hidden our family background since debut. I even use my mom’s maiden name for my stage persona. The easiest fix would be to drop the bomb: We’re siblings, you idiots. But that would waste years of effort keeping our private lives private. I looked at the PR team’s drafts. Collaboration… Songwriting session… Just friends… I rubbed my temples. These excuses were older than the internet. I’ve never had a scandal. My team looked panic-stricken. Maybe it’s time to hire a new crisis manager. Screw it. Let’s just tell the truth. “Bro, drafted. Waiting for your signal,” Gwen said, hovering over the ‘Send’ button. “Ryan! Fiona just posted!” my assistant shrieked. I grabbed the phone. Fiona V: He flirts like a demon but won’t put a ring on it. Sister, you’re young, don’t let him play you. Let me be the one who falls for his trap. @Gwen Game over. Chaos reignited. We had just paid a fortune to bury the hashtag, and Fiona dug it up with a backhoe. I refreshed the feed. I was now being painted as a femme fatale in a male body, ruining the nation’s sweethearts. The hate intensified. I grabbed Gwen’s hand. “Don’t post yet.” Seeing my silence, Fiona decided to double down. And triple down. Fiona V: I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t misunderstand him. I was too busy with work and ignored him, so he dumped me. It’s not his fault, it’s mine. Fiona V: I’ve never even been to his house. Why does SHE get to go? Fiona V: So you like that type? Is it too late for me to debut as a pop idol? Fiona V: Which agency is hiring? I need to debut immediately. Email my assistant at xxxxxx. The timeline exploded. What day is it? Is the Ice Queen having a mental breakdown on main? Fiona’s brand was “Classy, Rational, Low-key, Professional.” She had zero scandals in five years. This was the first time anyone used “Fiona” and “Love Brain” in the same sentence. Usually, when co-stars tried to ship themselves with her for clout, her team shut it down within the hour. Fans called her “The Living Dead” of romance—allergic to men. 3 Even I was confused. We fell in love on my first drama, Timeless Memories. We filmed for six months, an angst-filled romance that bled into reality. After wrapping, she confessed. I liked her too. It was simple. But then she pivoted to movies. I stayed in TV. We were both “career-first” people. Or so I thought. She’d text, I’d reply six hours later. She’d reply the next morning. Five sentences in three days. The spark faded. I never saw her. She was cold and passive, just like her characters. Eventually, I broke up with her. I missed her, sure. But not enough to beg. Her career skyrocketed. Every guy linked to her got roasted by her fans—except Damian, the only guy she didn’t issue a denial about. I wanted to avoid trouble, so I stayed far away. So why was she going nuclear now? While I watched Fiona spiral, the internet detectives had already connected the dots on Gwen. Since she shares my dad’s surname, it wasn’t hard. #GwenRealIdentity hit Trending. Gwen: Daughter of Real Estate Mogul Gong Hanlin. Certified Nepo Baby. Fiona V: That’s it? Ever heard of the Fu family? Fu Zehua, Chairman of Mountain & Sea Group, is my dad. If you want money, I have way more than that little girl. Look at me. In one day, two secret heiresses were unmasked. [I thought Gwen being a property heiress was crazy, but Fiona just outed herself as the daughter of a multinational conglomerate chairman?! What does Ryan have? Magic pheromones?] [Is this a Cinderella story but reverse? Ryan, buy a lottery ticket, bro.] [Fiona has been a mystery for five years. She never talks about her life. Now she’s flexing her bank account to win a guy back? I’m crying.] [Retweet this Ryan for good luck in love.] The public sentiment shifted from hate to jealousy. Gwen and I were notoriously private. The netizens kept digging. They found a photo from elementary school of Gwen picking me up. In the pic, she’s waiting at the gate. I walk out, throw my backpack and blazer at her, and she just grins and carries them like a servant. The timeline melted down again. [He treats the Gong heiress like a maid?! How dare he?] [Why does he look so disdainful of her? Like she’s beneath him?] Fiona V: Childhood photos? Bitch, I have those too. She posted a photo of me at age seven or eight at a theme park, handing a balloon to a crying little girl. I squinted. I remembered that. Some kid was wailing next to me, annoying me, so I shoved my balloon at her to shut her up. That crybaby was Fiona?! 4 Then fans found a photo from Gwen’s 18th birthday gala. I was there, standing right next to her. Fiona V: You met the parents at 18? So I was just the rebound? Finally, the nail in the coffin. Gwen’s fans found a photo of us holding hands on the street. In the pic, Gwen is looking at me with pure adoration, and I’m practically collapsing into her arms. I looked at my pained expression and the bicycle in the background. That was the time I crashed my bike into a ditch! She wasn’t looking at me with love; she was laughing at my misery! I sprained my ankle and she had to help me to the car. Why was I on a bike? My agency gave me the “Poor Boy” persona. I realized being “poor” meant I didn’t have to compete in fashion wars or attend expensive galas. I leaned into it. Fiona V: You forced my hand! She dropped another photo. It was so spicy it crashed the image server instantly. [Sis, stop! Twitter is dying!] [Fiona, your image is shattered. Pack it up.] [Why is she acting like this today?] [Adults break down too, okay?] [Wait, were they actually dating?] The comments were getting wild. I had to stop this. I dialed the familiar number, pulling it out of the blacklist. “Hello,” I whispered. “Finally decided to call?” I could hear the smirk in her voice. Knowing she was the crybaby from the park killed her goddess mystique for me completely. “Did you get hacked?” “Nope. All me. Call me later and I’ll post worse.” She sounded proud. I gritted my teeth. “Fiona, what do you want?” “Break up with her.” “We aren’t together! What gives you the right to order me around?” “I’m not ordering… I…” Her voice softened. “Unblock me on WeChat. We can negotiate.” I unblocked her. Me: How much to delete the tweets? Fiona: You think I need money? Me: What do you want? Fiona: Come on a variety show with me. All this chaos for a show? Did she hit her head? She sent a poster. Let’s Travel Together. Season 3. It’s a slow-paced travel show. Five days. I needed a break anyway. Me: If I go, will you stop acting crazy? Fiona: Sign the contract, I delete the tweets. Fine. Let’s go.

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Three years after I dumped Hunter Chase, his high-society mother tracked me down. She begged me to “save” him, claiming he’d turned into a useless, hedonistic wreck. When I found Hunter, he was in a VIP booth at a club, surrounded by his frat boy entourage and girls. He froze for a second when he saw me. Then the mockery started. “What? Want to get back together? Get on your knees and beg, then maybe I’ll think about it.” I walked up and slapped him across the face. Hard. Suddenly, floating text comments appeared in front of my eyes. [This side-chick is insane! Does she have a death wish, hitting the billionaire heir? Doesn’t she see our precious Female Lead sitting right there?] [Some ‘first love’ she is. More like a mosquito bite. The Male Lead is gonna destroy her face for that.] [Our Female Lead is so much better. Gentle, obedient, basically the perfect trophy wife. Hunter knows who the real prize is.] [No wonder she’s the villainess. Gold-digging and disobedient? Gross. A woman’s best accessory is submission. I hope she dies soon. Can’t wait for Hunter to explode!] Hunter explode? I laughed. In front of everyone, I looked him in the eye. “Apologize.” A red handprint bloomed on Hunter’s handsome face. His eyes were rimmed with angry tears. Through gritted teeth, he forced out three words. “…I am sorry.” The room went dead silent. Someone whispered in horror, “The only person who can control the devil is back.” I nodded, satisfied. I thought they had forgotten. Three years ago, I had already trained this billionaire heir into the most obedient puppy. Chapter 1 When Hunter’s mom, Mrs. Chase, found me, I was packing for grad school abroad. “Lily, please. I’m begging you. Come back to Hunter. Save him.” We met at the same coffee shop as last time. Mrs. Chase got straight to the point, shedding a few crocodile tears. “Since you left three years ago, he’s spiraled. He’s a complete wastrel now. Drinking, partying, doing nothing. He won’t listen to his father or me. If this continues, he’s ruined!” I stirred my coffee, a smirk playing on my lips. Three years ago, she sat in this same spot, threw a check in my face, and told me to get lost. She called me poor trash, unfit to manage her son. She said men were born to rule over women, and that I should focus on books instead of climbing the social ladder. She claimed poverty was a sin and that Hunter would be better off without me. She conveniently forgot that I was the reason Hunter tamed his temper, finished college, and joined the family business in the first place. I looked up. The fear and insecurity I had back then were gone. “Sure. I’ll do it.” Mrs. Chase started to smile, but I cut her off. “But my rates have gone up. How long I stay depends on how much you pay. Once the contract is up, I’m gone.” Her face turned green. “Lily, when did you become so vain? How can you put a price on feelings? You’re disappointing.” I stood up to leave without a word. Her attitude flipped instantly. She begged, promising the money immediately. I chuckled. People bully the nice ones. I learned that lesson three years ago. That night, with a five-million-dollar deposit in my account, I walked into the club, found Hunter’s VIP room, and pushed the door open. The noise inside died instantly. Everyone stared at me. Chapter 2 “Who the hell are you? Get out!” some lackey yelled. I ignored him, scanning the room. It was filled with Hunter’s rich, useless friends, each with a girl in a skimpy dress on his lap. Expensive liquor covered the tables. It smelled like money and bad decisions. My gaze landed on Hunter in the corner. He was smoking, legs crossed, head down. His hair was dyed a rebellious grey. Next to him sat a girl who looked about 60% like me. Same vibe, but softer, more “pure.” One of Hunter’s childhood friends recognized me. “Holy shit! Is that the legendary Li—” He covered his mouth, but it was too late. Hearing the “L,” Hunter’s head snapped up. He locked eyes with me and froze. The club lights dimmed, hiding his expression. When they flashed bright again, his face was twisted with disgust and mockery. He leaned back, pulling the girl next to him into his arms. She blushed, nestling into him like a fragile bird. Hunter didn’t even look at her. He just sneered at me. “Well, well. Look who it is. The gold digger who dumped me for a check.” He looked me up and down, noting my lack of designer labels. He looked satisfied. “Lily, you’re still broke as hell. What? Want to get back together? Get on your knees and knock your head on the floor three times. Then maybe I’ll listen.” His friends roared with laughter. Only his childhood friend looked terrified, glancing between us. “Damn, imagine dumping Hunter for cash. Idiot. If I were a girl, I’d worship him. Beat me, scold me, whatever. I’d call him Daddy!” “Is she trying to pull a scam? Why does she look like Bella? Plastic surgery? Give it up, you can’t compare to Bella. She’s wifey material!” Bella. That must be the girl. Name fits. Bella looked at me with pity mixed with smug superiority. Poor me, trying to clone her look but failing to get the guy. I was about to speak when— [The Villainess is here! The so-called ‘White Moonlight.’ She looks mid compared to our baby Bella.] [Don’t worry, she’s toast. Hunter forgot her ages ago. He won’t give her the time of day.] [I can’t wait for the humiliation scene! She tries to lecture him, and he ignores her. Classic!] Floating comments? Interesting. I had planned to be polite. It had been three years, after all. But reading those comments changed my mind. Someone forgot the rules. He needed a reminder. Hunter was still smirking, turning to high-five his lackey, when my shadow fell over him. I walked right up to him, raised my hand, and… SMACK! I backhanded him across the face. Silence. Chapter 3 For a few seconds, the room was frozen. Jaws dropped. Bella reacted first. She glared at me, tears welling up. “Miss! How can you hit people? Do you have no manners? Just because you’re uneducated and low-class doesn’t give you the right to harass us! You aren’t in Hunter’s league!” Eloquent. Logical. Polite. Funny how she was mute when they were slut-shaming me a minute ago. Justice is apparently selective. [OMG the Villainess is crazy! Hitting the billionaire heir? Did she scare our baby Bella? Bella is too nice, she should have dragged that bitch!] [She’s dead in three chapters. Mosquito blood, not a White Moonlight. Hunter’s temper is explosive; he’s gonna wreck her!] [Bella is the best. Gentle, submissive, never argues. The perfect wife. Any man would choose her.] [Typical villainess behavior. Vain and disobedient. Being a simp for men is a woman’s best trait. Die already! Waiting for Hunter to rage!] I was amazed. If being a doormat is the requirement for a Female Lead, I’m happy being the Villainess. Men exist to serve women, not the other way around. Expecting Hunter to explode on me? Sorry to disappoint. I looked down at Hunter. “Apologize.” A guy with bleached hair jumped up. “Who the f—” “Shut up!!” Hunter roared. His face was red, bearing my handprint. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked at me, tears shimmering in the corners. Through gritted teeth, he forced it out. “I. Am. Sorry.” The room gasped. Hunter’s friend whispered in horror, “It’s over… the only person who can tame the beast is back…” I nodded. I thought they forgot. Three years ago, I trained this rich boy into a perfect dog. Chapter 4 “Everyone out!” Hunter barked. They scrambled. Except Bella. She frowned. “Miss, please leave! Didn’t you hear Hunter? Do you have no shame? Did you even graduate high school?” Hunter rubbed his temples, dizzy with rage. “I meant you. Get out.” Bella froze. Then, the waterworks started. Even though they weren’t official, she clearly thought of herself as the girlfriend. She gave me the “homewrecker” glare and ran out crying. A perfect, fragile flower. Too bad Hunter didn’t even look at her. [What is the Male Lead doing?! Why chase the wife away? He should be kicking the villainess out and comforting Bella!] [It’s not about the villainess. He’s probably just jealous because Bella talked to the Second Male Lead yesterday.] [Our Jealous King! Hope he realizes his feelings soon and comforts Bella!] [But I hate that he’s alone with the villainess just to make Bella jealous. Ugh, letting that bitch win.] [Relax, Hunter knows what he’s doing. He won’t let her touch him. It’s all an act.] I sat opposite Hunter. “Tastes have changed?” Hunter looked at me resentfully. “I thought you were going abroad? What do you want?” “How do you know I’m going abroad?” “I…” “Stalking me? Still in love with me?” I leaned forward, invading his space. The familiar pressure made him look away. His ears turned red, but his mouth stayed stubborn. “Who likes you? It’s been 1,186 days. I forgot you ages ago!” I stood up, smirking. “Okay. Forgot to mention, I moved back into our old apartment. Since you’re not interested, I guess I’ll live there alone.” Hunter shot up. “You didn’t break the lease?” I gave him a look and walked out. Behind me, Hunter started yapping like a puppy left behind. “Hey! Wait! Don’t leave yet! I didn’t say I wouldn’t go! Damn it, you ditch me for three years and can’t even pretend to beg? Lily! Get back here!!” I lit a cigarette outside. I picked up the habit after my adoptive mother died. Inside, I heard Hunter muttering excitedly. “Thank God, Buddha, and the Universe… she came back for me…” I lowered my eyes. Idiot. It wasn’t God. It was your mom’s money. Chapter 5 Hunter and I met in college. We dated for five years. He fought with his family constantly. Whenever they cut him off, he was broke. We rented a tiny one-bedroom apartment and lived there for three years. I never cancelled the lease. Sometimes I went back to clean. It was the only place that felt like “home” after my mom died. I didn’t tell Hunter that. Let him think I missed him. It’s easier for the con. He walked around the apartment, looking nostalgic and emotional. I went into the bedroom. He tried to follow. Bam. I shut the door in his face. When I came out in my pajamas, he was standing there, head hanging low. If he had a tail, it would be between his legs. I threw a set of clean men’s pajamas on the couch. “Put these on.” His head snapped up. Eyes bright. Tail wagging. “Tonight, I sleep in the bedroom. You take the couch.” Tail down. When he came out of the shower, shirt unbuttoned, water dripping down his eight-pack abs, I had to admit—he looked good. The man aged backwards. Still looked like a college student. He was definitely trying to seduce me. I ignored it, turned around, and went to bed. Crack. The sound of a heart breaking. I slept well that night. I have insomnia, but sleeping near Hunter always knocked me out. Maybe because he’s brainless, so I don’t need my guard up. I left the door open. In the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom and tripped over something. I turned on the lamp. Hunter was curled up on the floor by my bed, sleeping on his jacket. “Lily… don’t leave… let’s make up…” he mumbled. I leaned down and whispered, “Hunter, your acting sucks.” His face turned red. Even in his sleep, he knew he couldn’t outsmart me. He opened his eyes. “Let’s make up. Forget the past.”

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I was eating the subsidized meal—the $1.99 ‘Financial Aid’ special—in the cafeteria when I scrolled past the livestream. On the screen, my ID tag was clipped to the collar of a golden retriever. Atherton University’s elite “It Girls” were playing a ring toss game. Whoever managed to loop a ring over the dog was declared my “master.” The golden retriever’s neck already had four brightly colored rings stacked on it. Savannah “Savvy” Shaw, the Student Council President, let out a light, dismissive laugh. “How delightful. It looks like we’ll all be playing with the same little puppy, then.” Phoebe Alcott, the financial department’s resident new queen, raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “A new transfer on an aid package? He’ll be completely obsessed. We’ll have him wrapped around our fingers before the month is out.” Willow Bellweather, the campus’s reigning drama star, leaned forward excitedly. “Why don’t we make a bet? A full month. Let’s see which one of us the puppy becomes most devoted to?” Anya Wells, the medical genius known for her cold precision, didn’t speak, but the look in her eyes was all high-stakes certainty. I closed the app and let a slow, cold smirk crawl across my face. What a coincidence. My father sent me to Atherton precisely to select a fiancée from among these four families. How unfortunate for them. You all just failed the test. 1 In the livestream, the girl on camera laughed and called the dog by my alias. “Lincoln Asher, heel! Come here.” “Good boy!” “A poor transfer student running into four evil villains right at the start of his college life? How unlucky for him!” The surrounding crowd erupted in a roar of laughter. “Isn’t that why poor students come to Atherton? To climb the social ladder? He must be thrilled right now!” “I recall the last few victims you girls had were either physically scarred or forced to drop out. Maybe try something new this time?” “I can’t wait to see the pathetic, lovesick look on his face!” Savannah leaned against a guy—the host, I assumed—with a playful, seductive smile. “It was your idea, Chad. We’re just playing along, and now you’re calling us mean?” Phoebe stood on the guy’s other side, stroking his sculpted bicep with a look of mock helplessness. “Exactly. Last time, we were too easy on him. The guy just cried a little, and you were bored again.” “What exactly do we have to do to satisfy you, Princess?” Willow twirled a strand of her perfectly highlighted hair, confidence radiating off her. “Just weave a beautiful, ‘rags-to-riches’ fantasy for the poor boy. I know that script inside and out.” “Come on, place your bets! I’m putting down a million dollars on myself!” Anya remained impassive, calmly taking a seat. “Fifteen million.” They could shame me all they wanted; I didn’t care. After all, I wasn’t Lincoln Asher. My real name was Asher Lincoln. I had taken on a fake identity as a “poor student” to quietly vet the candidates for my future wife, as per my father’s instructions. But what did anger me was the casual cruelty—the absolute lack of remorse as they humiliated and hurt innocent people. I shook my head in utter disappointment. The four little tagalongs who used to follow me around as children had morphed into this. Zero out of a hundred. They were fundamentally flawed. These people were not fit to be the future mistress of the Lincoln empire. Just as I was about to lock my phone, a few new comments popped up on the stream. [Why are four women revolving around just one guy?! Is he planning to marry them all?] [Duh, that’s Chadwick Riley! The Chad Riley! The future of the Riley Group!] [They’re his childhood friends! They swore even if they didn’t marry Chad, they’d dedicate their lives to him!] Chadwick Riley? The Riley Group? Since when did my parents decide to give me a younger brother I didn’t know about? I was still puzzling over this when a shadow fell over my table. I looked up. Savannah and Phoebe had flanked me, sitting on either side, while Willow and Anya took the opposing seats. The noisy cafeteria instantly fell silent. Every single eye in the room was fixed on my table. Savannah, ever the gracious hostess, reached out naturally to brush a non-existent piece of lint from my shirt. “Why are you eating this garbage, sweetie?” I forced myself to take a few miserable bites of rice. “I’m poor. No money.” A flicker of contempt—quickly masked—passed through all four pairs of eyes. Willow slipped into character instantly, taking my hand. “Someone as handsome as you shouldn’t be eating scraps.” She pulled me straight out of the dining hall, shoved me into a luxury SUV, and we were whisked toward the city’s most famous Michelin five-star restaurant. I had to suppress a tiny moment of confusion. Isn’t this place just my dining room? The head chef at this restaurant was one my parents had personally hired to cook for me whenever I was in town, and they had conveniently opened a restaurant around him. The moment we walked in, the manager spotted me, hurried over, and was about to greet me as “Sir” or “Owner.” I gave him a subtle shake of the head. He immediately understood, his respectful expression flawless. Phoebe pulled out my chair for me. “Order anything you want. It’s just some basic home-style cooking.” In my house, yes, it is, I thought with a silent laugh. They began showing off, describing every exclusive dish in exaggerated detail. But I was already tired of all of it, my appetite nonexistent. I poked listlessly at the food. In their eyes, my lack of enthusiasm was interpreted quite differently. They must have assumed I didn’t even know how to eat such fine cuisine. Anya reached across the table, took a deep-sea blue crab claw, expertly cracked it, and brought the meat right to my mouth. I caught the glint of the small pinhole camera on her chest and was suddenly intrigued. I feigned bashfulness. “Anya, I heard your hands are only used for scalpel work.” A muscle twitched in Anya’s cheek. It took her a long moment to reply. “You’re… special.” So you can be disgusted, but I can’t play along? I leaned in, acting shy and awkward, my face flushed as I took the bite. For the rest of the meal, the four of them took turns doting on me: clipping off greens, peeling shrimp, wiping the corner of my mouth. They didn’t stop for a minute. I played my role dutifully, a convincing, smitten pauper with each of them. I was exhausted and ready to roll my eyes by the time I collapsed back into my dorm room. My roommates’ expressions were… complex. I opened my phone. Sure enough, Chad Riley was streaming again. The footage of Anya feeding me the crab leg was on a loop. The comments were hysterical. Willow slapped her thigh, doubled over in laughter. “I almost lost it! His expression was so genuine! He truly thinks he’s the male lead in a romance drama!” Anya’s face was dark with annoyance. “Funny? I washed my hands three times with medical-grade sanitizer afterward. I still feel contaminated.” Phoebe patted Anya’s shoulder, trying to hold back her own laughter. “The poor student is probably head-over-heels now! Congrats, Anya! Hahaha!” After that event, the four of them only became more attentive. Flowers, gifts, elaborate invitations. I played my role day in and day out, acting as their entertainment for the stream. Even when my classmates snickered as I walked past, I pretended to be blissfully unaware. Until one evening. I was suddenly pulled into a shadowed corner. The person who grabbed me swallowed hard, then spoke in a rush. “Lincoln, you’re being played! Those girls are not good people!” Nearly everyone in the school was aware of my predicament. For a month, most had either watched for entertainment or been too afraid to intervene. She was the only one who had dared to warn me. Before I could say anything, she was roughly shoved away, stumbling and falling to the floor. The Quad Squad stood in front of me. Savannah flashed her Student Council badge like a shield. “Stay away from Asher!” “You’re on an aid package—I suggest you don’t get any ideas about Lincoln, or I’ll make sure you never graduate from Atherton!” She turned to me, her tone instantly softening and testing. “Lincoln, she didn’t say anything weird to you, did she?” I shook my head, my face blank and confused. They finally relaxed. “It’s your birthday at the end of the month, right? We’re taking you to a gala auction to buy you a gift.” I quickly caught up—I had filled in a random date for my fake profile—and slipped into character. “You… you remember my birthday? I’m so touched!” “But I’ve never been to an auction. I’ll embarrass you…” They told me not to worry. Before the event, a bespoke custom suit was delivered to my dorm. I frowned. Wait. My own custom, limited-edition formalwear is currently hanging in my closet. Why is a duplicate in their possession? I had a flash of realization, opened my phone, and searched for Chad Riley’s stream. He was live. “Bringing the poor boy out to see the real world again.” “His suit? I lent it to him. I never wear my formalwear twice.” He covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, showing off the three-hundred-million-dollar timepiece on his wrist. “I bet he doesn’t even know how to tie a bow tie. Think he’ll make a complete fool of himself?” My face went cold. Chad’s suit, his watch, his ring—every single piece of “luxury” he wore—was mine. I walked out as if nothing had happened. The Quad Squad was waiting for me at the venue entrance. Chad was there too, phone held high, ready to live-stream my anticipated disaster. The moment I stepped out, everyone in the ballroom—not just the four women—turned to stare. “Who is that?” “Is he from one of the Singaporean families?” Chad’s face twisted with jealousy as he watched the girls’ eyes practically glue themselves to me. I tossed my hair back nonchalantly. They’re only staring because they know the name of the man who owns this suit. The jewelry auction began. I was bored. Under the four girls’ urging, I casually pointed to a watch. Willow immediately called out a price. “Three hundred thousand!” To my surprise, Anya countered. “Five hundred thousand!” “Sorry, Willow. I’m not letting up this time.” Savannah laughed and joined the fray. “Eight hundred thousand!” Chad watched from the side, practically spitting fire as the four women flung money at me. He tried to interrupt but couldn’t get a word in edgewise. They escalated into a frenzy, driving the price up to three million dollars. Willow and Anya were forced to bow out. Savannah was about to gloat when Phoebe, who had been silent, suddenly spoke. “I’ll raise the stakes.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs lazily, and then leaned her head against my shoulder. “I promised I’d personally win Lincoln’s birthday gift. And I always keep my promises.” The auction ended, and I held the watch—a decent but uninteresting piece—in my hand. I told them I didn’t want it because, ironically, the few items that were actually nice were pieces I had already eliminated from my own collection. Chad timidly shuffled over. “Phoebe, I really like this watch. Can you give it to me?” He then pulled a few hundred dollars out of his pocket and threw it at me. “The watch matches the man. You should go find something on a street corner, little brother.” I turned to Phoebe, my eyes welling up with fake tears, ready to hand the watch back. “I really don’t deserve it. Maybe you should take it back…” I was dressed immaculately, and the look of pathetic devastation on my face broke Phoebe’s resolve instantly. “Who says you don’t deserve it?!” She spun around, her expression hardening, and shot a furious glare at Chad. “You’re trying to steal his birthday gift? Do you think that’s appropriate?” “Lincoln was happy, and you just had to make him cry! Apologize to Lincoln!” She gave Chad no quarter. The eyes of everyone in the room converged on him. Chad’s face went scarlet with shame, and he turned and ran out of the room. The evening livestream was scheduled to start on time. Chad sat between the four girls, his face a picture of tearful self-pity. “You guys actually yelled at me today!” Savannah was quick to wipe his tears. “We had to, baby. It was all for show. To make the poor boy believe we were seriously pursuing him.” Phoebe chimed in with a laugh. “Look how devoted he is now. When we finally dump him, it’s going to be epic!” Willow added, “Don’t be sad, Chad. I’ll buy you the most expensive watch next time, with my next paycheck.” Anya, with a dark look behind her glasses, offered the most brutal suggestion. “Why buy? We’ll make the poor boy pay back everything he’s gotten from us, tenfold, to compensate Chad.” The live chat viewers, watching the footage of me looking utterly besotted with the four girls, filled the screen with mockery. [A few cheap gifts, and look how touched he is!] [He’s going to try to kill himself when he finds out it’s all a lie, LOL!] [You HAVE to live stream the breakup! I can’t wait!] The others finally managed to cheer Chad up. He smiled sweetly at the camera. “Next Monday is the final day.” “Eight p.m. sharp. We’ll be live from the outdoor amphitheater for the ‘Puppy Dump’ stream!” I smiled to myself, a faint, cold expression. Next Monday. That was also the day I had to report my final selection results to my father. During these last few days, the Quad Squad was desperate to confirm my affection. I made sure to look utterly, profoundly in love with each of them. I wouldn’t want their confidence to flag. Sure enough, a few days later, my dorm door was buried under an avalanche of roses. Four bouquets, four personalized cards. Just as the stream promised, they had all set up a meeting with me for Monday at 8 p.m. That night, I made sure to be “dressed for the occasion.” I wore the suit I hadn’t “returned” and the “expensive” watch they had bought me. I gave them all the room they needed for their grand performance. I arrived at the meeting spot. Before I could see the four girls, someone pulled me aside. “Lincoln!” I focused. It was the same girl who had warned me before. “You can’t go! You’ll regret it!” When I didn’t respond, she anxiously yanked out her phone and opened Chad Riley’s stream. “They’ve been playing you this whole time! It’s a joke!” I tilted my head, an amused look on my face. “I know.” “But who’s playing whom? That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” Without waiting for her reaction, I brushed past her and continued toward the amphitheater. Waiting for me were the Quad Squad, Chad Riley, and a small mob of students holding up their phones to watch the entertainment. The four girls finally dropped the act. Savannah was the first to speak, her tone dripping with condescension. “You didn’t actually think we were going to confess to you, did you?” Phoebe chuckled softly. “We were just messing with you, babe. Did you actually fall for it?” The laughter from the crowd swelled. Someone in the back yelled, “Did he really think he was good enough for them?” “He was probably already picking out his wedding suit, haha!” My “inner actor” took over. My eyes instantly welled up. “So… you were all lying to me? The flowers, the dates, the auction—all of it was fake?” Willow raised her phone and opened the stream. “Not only were we lying to you, but everyone was in on the joke. The whole school watched.” “You were a funny little dancing monkey.” Anya reached out and snatched the watch from my wrist. “Chad likes this. You don’t deserve to wear it.” Chad slowly walked up to me, looking me up and down. “They say clothes make the man. You’re wearing my suit and my watch—I’ll admit, you almost looked the part.” “But the dream is over.” He moved closer, attempting to yank the blazer off my shoulders. “Take it off. Give it back.” A few crass whistles sounded from the crowd. I didn’t react in anger. I just smiled, a thin, cold smile, and then backhanded Chadwick Riley across the face. The sound was a sharp crack. Chad stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief. The four girls erupted in fury. “You bastard! How dare you hit Chad!” “We played with you for a month, and now you’ve forgotten your place? Did you actually think you were worthy of us?!” “I’m going to strip you naked right here and make you walk back to your dorm!” The words were barely out of their mouths when a figure appeared silently behind me. A heavy, custom-made jacket was draped over my shoulders. In the next instant, the figure—my lead security detail—moved, and all four girls were instantly slammed to the ground. I looked down at them, my expression one of profound disappointment. “The observation is over.” “Unfortunately.” “You are not worthy of me. You are not fit to be my fiancée candidates. And you will never be the future mistress of the Lincoln empire.”

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I have a normal personality type. So when the System told me I was the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family, it was a little confused. [Your birth parents favor the fake heiress. Shouldn’t you be furious?] “That’s pretty normal. People get attached to a puppy or a kitten, let alone a person they’ve raised for eighteen years.” [Your fiancé can’t stand the sight of you. Shouldn’t you be filled with resentment?] “That’s pretty normal. I’d be pissed too if someone told me I had to marry a complete stranger.” [Your classmates are mocking your English accent. Shouldn’t you want to burn the world down?] “That’s pretty normal. I hear myself talk and I want to laugh. Why can’t they?” The System short-circuited. [I can’t work with this. I really can’t. Who programmed a saint into this role?!] 1 On my eighteenth birthday, my uncle told me I was the real heiress, switched at birth with the daughter of a powerful family. On the car ride to my new home, a ding sounded in my head, and the System came online. It told me that when I got home, my parents would be cold and distant, treating me like a weed in their perfectly manicured garden. My fiancé, destined for me since birth, would despise me and make my life a living hell. Crushed by despair, I would develop stomach cancer and die filled with regret. Only then would my parents and fiancé realize their mistake and be consumed by remorse. [To help you rewrite your destiny, become the ultimate main character, and conquer your family, I will provide full support to guide you to the pinnacle of life!] I leaned against the car door, half-asleep. “Oh. Thanks.” The System paused. [Aren’t you excited? Thrilled? This is life-changing! It’s a cheat code! …Are you, like, dead inside?] I let out a silent sigh. “If you had to get up at four every morning to cook, do laundry, clean the house, and slop the pigs, then walk to school at six-thirty, skip lunch, and work for two hours washing dishes at a diner after school… you’d want to be dead too.” The System was impressed. [Worthy of a main character! To endure all that and not even curse someone out?!] I gave a weak smile. I’d spent the last sixteen years cursing the heavens, but when I realized the heavens weren’t listening, I gave up. It wasn’t that I stopped fighting. It was that I had no fight left in me. 2 We chatted on and off like that, and at some point, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, the car was gliding through the grounds of a mansion so vast I couldn’t see the end of it. The driver opened my door. “Miss, we’re home.” Three people stood beside the car: a distinguished-looking middle-aged couple and a girl so beautiful she looked like a princess. The System informed me they were my father, my mother, and Phoebe, the girl who had been raised in my place. After a brief, slightly awkward greeting, they led me inside. The dining room table was groaning with a feast. My stomach was already rumbling, and my eyes were glued to the glistening roast, the platters of crab legs, and the crispy chicken. After dinner, my mother had a maid show me to my room on the second floor. The moment the door closed, I dove face-first into the soft duvet. It was so comfortable I felt like I was floating on a cloud. I had barely started to float when the System’s voice exploded in my head. [I AM FUMING! FUMING! THIS IS UNFORGIVABLE! Host, just give the word and I will go zap your parents!] I poked my head out from under the covers, completely bewildered. “Huh? Why?” [WHY?!] the System shrieked. [Weren’t you paying attention just now? During dinner, your parents kept putting food on the fake heiress’s plate, but they didn’t give you a single piece!] I thought about it and scratched my head. “That’s pretty normal. My own plate was already piled so high there was no room for more.” [And what about how they barely said a word to you? They were so afraid of upsetting the precious fake heiress that they didn’t even ask if you were tired from the trip!] “That’s pretty normal, too. I was too busy eating to talk anyway. Even if they’d asked, my mouth was full.” [But the worst part! Your room is only a third of the size of hers! There’s a much bigger room right next door, but they put you in here, obviously because they’re scared of upsetting Phoebe’s delicate feelings!] I rolled over on the massive, comfortable bed. “I think it’s great. If the room was any bigger, it would take forever to get to the bathroom.” Besides, I used to sleep on a sofa. Now I had my own private room in a house that looked like a castle. What more could I ask for? Suddenly, I smelled something burning. I shot up. “Is something on fire?!” The System ground its digital teeth. [It’s fine! That’s just the smoke coming out of my ears!] I ignored the fuming System, took a long, luxurious bath in the en-suite bathroom, and slept soundly from ten at night until seven in the morning. Waking up, I felt like I’d gone to heaven. “So this is what it feels like to be well-fed and well-rested!” [Pathetic,] the System muttered. I decided to ignore it, not wanting to trigger another explosion. After tidying my room, I went downstairs. The living room was empty. I wandered outside and found the butler watering the flowers in the garden. “Miss, you’re up so early,” he greeted me with a kind smile. “You must have been exhausted yesterday. You should have slept in.” I helped him move a heavy pot. “I’m a good sleeper. One hour for me is like three for anyone else. This is actually late for me.” We chatted while we worked, and around nine, the housekeeper announced that breakfast was ready. My parents came downstairs, but Phoebe was nowhere to be seen. Noticing my questioning glance, my father explained, “Phoebe’s a little sleepyhead. She won’t be up before ten-thirty.” I sipped the rich milk and ate the sweet bread, feeling so happy I could fly. I barely registered his words, just nodded cheerfully. [I CAN’T WITH YOU!] the System erupted again. I jumped, spilling a few drops of milk. [What are they bragging about?! While their precious fake daughter is snoozing in bed, you would have already slopped the pigs twice!] I tried to soothe it mentally. Calm down. Everyone has different habits. Some people are early birds, some are night owls. You could pump me full of sleeping pills, and I’d still be wide awake by now. My parents saw my hand tremble and exchanged a look, their expressions shifting slightly. My mother peeled a hard-boiled egg and placed it by my hand. “Iris,” she said softly, “did you sleep well? Is there anything you’re not used to? I noticed your clothes seem a bit small. How about I take you shopping today?” I looked down at the sleeves of my shirt, which barely reached my forearms, and answered her questions one by one. My father handed me a credit card. “This is for your allowance. Buy whatever you like.” I nodded, about to thank them, when Phoebe came downstairs. She stumbled down, half-asleep, and threw her arms around my mother’s neck. “Mommy, my head hurts.” My mother immediately pressed her forehead against Phoebe’s. “Oh dear, you’re burning up! You must have a fever. I told you not to wear that little dress yesterday. Now you’ve caught a cold.” Phoebe just blinked her big eyes and whined, “It hurts so much.” My father stood up and bent over. “Come on, Daddy will carry you back up to bed. We’ll have the doctor come over.” Phoebe climbed onto his back without a second thought. My mother hovered nervously, steadying her as they went back upstairs, murmuring to each other. [SEE?! LOOK AT THAT MANIPULATIVE LITTLE… Your parents finally talk to you for two seconds, and she immediately steals them away! This is outrageous… ARE YOU STILL EATING?!] I was starting to get used to the System’s constant state of alarm. I calmly finished my breakfast and took my plate to the kitchen. “That’s pretty normal,” I said, rinsing the plate. “She has a fever. People are vulnerable when they’re sick. It’s natural to want your parents close.” [But you never had your parents with you when you were sick!] the System retorted. That was true. My adoptive parents had died in a car crash when I was five. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to be there; they couldn’t be. I dried the plate and put it away. “I have a strong constitution. I rarely get sick. And when I do, I recover quickly. I don’t need anyone to look after me.” 3 With Phoebe sick, my mother couldn’t take me shopping. So I went to the mall by myself, with the System acting as my fashion consultant. As I paid, the System sounded surprised. [I didn’t expect you to shop here. I figured you’d go to a wholesale market and buy a dozen five-dollar t-shirts.] I had already changed into one of the new outfits. The fabric was crisp, the cut was elegant, and it made me look surprisingly refined. Clothes really do make the person. “It’s not that cheap clothes are always bad, and it’s not like I’m a pauper who suddenly struck it rich and lost her mind,” I said, tapping the credit card in my phone case. “Even a wealthy family wouldn’t just hand a kid a million-dollar line of credit for fun. My parents are making a gesture. If I took all this money and still dressed like a scarecrow to fish for pity, it would just make them feel awkward and make me look pathetic. That would be insane, right?” [You…] The System stammered. “What?” [You’re… not a complete idiot after all.] “…” I pursed my lips. “Wow. Thanks for the compliment.” 4 When I got home, there was a young man sitting on the living room sofa. He turned his head at the sound of my arrival. [Julian Croft. The male lead of this story. Your official fiancé.] This wasn’t the era of arranged marriages anymore. And even if it were a strategic alliance between families, Phoebe was, for all intents and purposes, the Landon family heiress. They had grown up together, a perfect match. What was I, some kind of homewrecker? The fact that they merely disliked me was, frankly, quite polite of them. I was about to just nod and head upstairs, but Julian spoke first. “Uh… hello.” [? Why is he blushing like a teapot?] the System wondered. [In the original story, he hated you at first. He thought you looked poor and tacky. It wasn’t until your and Phoebe’s birthday party, when you showed up in a stunning gown, that he…] The System stopped. [I get it now.] “Get what?” [You’re wearing new clothes. You look good right now. Men are so shallow!] Julian cleared his throat, his composure returning. “And you are?” “Iris.” The name was all he needed. His expression immediately turned cold. [Okay, what is wrong with him? He changes his mind faster than you can flip a page.] “That’s pretty normal. Finding out your fiancée is suddenly being replaced with a stranger? Anyone would be upset.” Finding someone attractive is one thing. Realizing that attractive person might completely upend your life is another thing entirely. Love at first sight requires the other person to be non-threatening. I wanted to tell Julian that I had zero interest in him and that he and Phoebe could live happily ever after, but it wasn’t my place. I was about to turn and go upstairs when Phoebe’s sweet voice called out. “Julian!” She came running lightly down the stairs. [What the hell! Wasn’t she so sick she needed to be carried just this morning? Now she’s running and jumping!] “Some people have very strong immune systems. They recover quickly.” […] 5 Phoebe ran over and tugged on Julian’s sleeve. “I’m ready. The concert is about to start. Let’s go.” Julian’s gaze lingered on me for a second. Phoebe followed his eyes and her expression immediately became timid. “Iris, do you… want to come with us?” I smiled and declined. “No, thanks. I’m not a big music fan. I’d just fall asleep. You two go have fun.” [What an act! Concert tickets like that usually have to be bought in advance. What if you had said yes? Would she have given you hers? Or would she have awkwardly said no and embarrassed you? So fake!] As I walked upstairs, I found the System’s constant outrage kind of amusing. “Why are you always so ready to explode? She was just being polite. What was she supposed to do? See me standing there and just ignore me as they walk out holding hands? That would have been way more awkward.” [I just can’t stand people like them!] the System fumed. [Why can’t they just be direct? All these little mind games, treating everyone else like an idiot! Doesn’t it piss you off? If it does, I can go zap them for you.] I pressed my palms together. “Please, I’m begging you. If you keep getting this worked up, you’re going to deplete the Earth’s energy reserves. I’m not pissed off at anyone. It’s perfectly normal for people to be on guard when their world is suddenly turned upside down.” [Hmph. I think you just have a classic people-pleaser personality.] “And I think you have a classic warmonger personality.” [You’ve only got nerve when you’re talking to me!] I hung up my new clothes and sat on the floor. “Okay, look. Stop getting so angry all the time. Your motherboard has already overheated a few times, right? Is it really okay to keep doing that?” The System ignored me. I thought for a moment. “How about this? I’ll tell you a riddle to help you cool down.” The System took the bait. [What does a riddle have to do with cooling down?] “You’ll see.” I asked, “What’s green, fuzzy, and would kill you if it fell out of a tree?” [You’re not allowed to use your data banks. Think about it.] The System mulled it over. [I give up. What is it?] “A pool table.” […] [I feel much cooler now. Thank you.] “You’re welcome.”

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I showed up for my tutoring gig and realized the student was my dad’s illegitimate son. But here’s the kicker: I was broke. This kid lived in a mansion, drove luxury cars, and ate gourmet food. His mom dripped with diamonds and acted like royalty. Meanwhile, I ate dry ramen yesterday to save money—the cheap packet kind, not even the cup kind, because those are too expensive. In my past life, I died in a car “accident” because someone tampered with my bike. As a ghost, I floated around and learned the truth: my wealthy grandparents also died in “accidents.” My mom had been driven insane and locked in a mental asylum for years. My dad really went all out to eat my family’s fortune alive. When I woke up reborn, I made a decision: The first thing I’d do is lend my bike to that illegitimate brat. 1 “What are you doing?!” Grandma’s voice shrieked through the video call, terror cracking her usually calm demeanor. I smiled, innocent as a lamb. “Grandma, what’s wrong? My student just offered to go buy me a boba tea.” My grandma, who usually treated me with fake kindness, barked, “Get him off that bike right now! You think you’re a real teacher? You’re just a part-time tutor living off scraps! How dare you make the Young Master run errands for you?” Well, well. My “sweet” grandma clearly knew exactly what had been done to my bike. No wonder she video-called me right before I died in my past life. She wanted a front-row seat to my death, just to be sure. Thinking back, she and my dad deserved Oscars for their acting. They convinced me for years that our family was bankrupt, drowning in debt collectors. I scraped by on work-study jobs to pay tuition. I starved myself to save pennies, which I then “dutifully” sent to this grandma I thought loved me. I died hungry. Even as a ghost, I felt that hunger. I wondered if she enjoyed spending the money I saved by skipping meals. “Grandma, what did you say?” I asked, making my voice airy and ghost-like. “Signal’s bad. Can’t hear you. Bye!” I hung up. Minutes later, a screech of tires and a sickening crash echoed from the street corner a hundred yards away. I paused. My eyes felt hot. This time, the mangled body on the pavement wasn’t mine. It was the precious treasure of the murderers who killed me, killed my grandparents, and drove my mom insane. Was he innocent? No. I learned the truth after I died. He had sick plans for me. His drawer was full of drugs he planned to use on me. He wanted to drug and assault me. Even this “errand” was a setup. I saw him slip a packet of powder into his pocket before he left. If I drank that tea… The outcome would have been unthinkable. He didn’t know I was his half-sister. But he was born rotten. If he wanted something, he took it. He enjoyed my grandparents’ wealth in private while bullying people at school with his “rich kid” status. Who knows how many girls’ lives he ruined? He deserved to die. 2 That night, I went “home” to a slap in the face. I looked at my dad, confused and shocked. “Dad? What did I do?” “Kneel!” He was shaking with rage, pointing a finger at me. “You know what you did! I never knew you were this vicious!” “…Vicious?” I held my stinging cheek. I thought of my mom in the asylum. I didn’t even know if she survived after I died in my past life. The hatred in my chest surged. But my voice came out weak and wronged. “So you’re just like Grandma.” “My student made progress, so he wanted to buy his teacher a boba tea. I said no, but he insisted on taking my bike to show his sincerity. Do you all think I’m not worthy of a $5 drink?” “I even listened to Grandma and left before he came back. How is that vicious?!” My dad stared at me, suspicious. He hadn’t expected me to be clueless. I squeezed out some tears. “Dad, I saw a photo in their house. A family of three.” I watched his jaw tighten. The violence in his eyes flickered. I pretended not to notice and sobbed. “The dad in the photo looked a lot like you. But it couldn’t be you. He was young, wearing a suit and a Rolex. That’s a life we don’t have. But don’t worry, Dad. I’ll work hard so you can live like that one day.” I had replayed this scenario in my head. In my past life, his mistress probably showed me that photo on purpose. She likely told him I saw it and threatened to expose them, to take back my grandparents’ money. That’s why he wanted me gone immediately. But if he thought I was still his stupid, filial daughter who knew nothing, his guard would drop. Sure enough, the scumbag frowned, deep in thought. After a moment, his expression softened, though he still paced anxiously. “How could you just leave? Do you know that… uh, your student, got hit by a car? The driver swerved just in time, so he didn’t die, but his leg was crushed. They had to amputate.” Not dead? I realized my mistake. Tampering with the bike didn’t guarantee death. But the driver was paid off. When he saw the wrong person on the bike, he probably swerved to avoid a murder charge, but still caused damage. A pity. But letting the scumbag and his mistress feel heartache wasn’t a bad consolation prize. This was just the first gift I had prepared for them. 3 I wasn’t at ease, so I skipped class to visit my mom at the mental hospital. I found her tied to a bed in solitary confinement. Her eyes were dull and empty. Her face was swollen with fresh slap marks. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. My heart shattered. I rushed to untie her. “Who did this?!” The nurse who followed me in looked panicked. She stammered that she didn’t know, maybe a family member visited earlier and things got out of hand. “Family?” I hugged my mom tight. “Show me the security footage.” They never expected me to visit. In the past, I was too busy surviving to come often. They thought I’d be dead soon anyway, so they got sloppy. The footage wasn’t deleted. And there she was—my “dear” grandma. That old witch, along with the diamond-dripping mistress, taking turns beating my mother. It happened regularly. No wonder my mom was “crazy.” Even a sane person would break under this torture. I started to suspect my mom wasn’t even sick before they put her in here. My heart ached so much I trembled. But my hands were steady as I pulled out my phone and recorded the footage from the screen. I signed the papers and took my mom out. The witch and the mistress were venting their anger because their precious boy lost a leg. Since my dad was momentarily placated by my act, they couldn’t touch me yet, so they went for my mom. I used my scholarship money to rent a small apartment near campus for us. I cleaned her up, applied ointment to her wounds, and dressed her in fresh clothes. Throughout it all, she was as silent as a doll. She only moved when I asked her to. Desperate, I mimicked my childhood self. I shook her arm. “Mommy, Mommy, can you braid my hair like yesterday? The five-strand braid? All the kids said it was pretty.” Suddenly, she snapped awake. She grabbed me, terror in her eyes. “No! June, be good! No five-strand braids! Mommy will do a different one!” I froze, then realized. I was four years older than the illegitimate son. The year he was born, the mistress must have gotten impatient. She hired kidnappers to snatch me, probably to blackmail my mom into divorce. But that day, I played with water at preschool and ruined my braid, so the teacher undid it. The kidnappers took the wrong girl—another kid with a five-strand braid. From then on, my mom refused to braid my hair like that. I was too young to understand. I only knew that soon after, my grandparents died. Then Mom got “sick” and disappeared. Now it all made sense. In my mom’s eyes, time had stopped. I was still her four-year-old daughter. My nose stung. I squatted down and handed her the comb. “Okay, Mommy. June will be good. No five-strand braids. Just make me pretty.” “Good girl.” She tapped my forehead. Her eyes finally had a spark of life. But she looked so old. Her hair was gray. Years ago, my mom was a wealthy heiress. A delicate white flower. My dad was a charity case my grandparents sponsored. He used the “country boy gratitude” act to woo my innocent mother. It was a trap from the start. A trap that claimed multiple lives. In my past life, after I died, my mom surely didn’t last long. It was time to deliver my second gift. 4 In a dim corner of a coffee shop, I struck a deal with a woman. I promised her everything she wanted once the job was done. Within months, the mistress in the villa started panicking. My dad, the scumbag James Lee, visited her less and less. He stopped caring about their son. The allowance he gave them dwindled to peanuts. He didn’t even visit the boy who was now an amputee. Meanwhile, I was the picture of filial piety. He had wanted to dump my mom for years but couldn’t ruin his “good husband” image. Now that I was an adult, I acted as my mom’s guardian and filed for divorce on her behalf. I told him I “felt sorry” for him being tied down and wanted him to be happy. The divorce went through. The more “filial” I acted, the less he suspected me. Soon, he hinted that he had a new girlfriend. I feigned excitement. “That’s great! Dad, you won’t be lonely anymore!” I added wistfully, “If only Auntie Zhang could give me a little brother. I’d love him so much! I’d give him everything!” He was shocked, then ecstatic. He couldn’t hide his grin. “You really think that? Good! You really are my daughter!” His voice softened. “I misunderstood you before.” “Auntie Zhang was right. You’re my flesh and blood. You’d never betray me.” I laughed internally. Pillow talk is powerful. If I let the mistress in the villa keep whispering in his ear, my mom and I would be in constant danger. “Dad has great news. Auntie Zhang is pregnant.” James beamed, wrinkles crinkling around his eyes. “You should get close to her. When your brother is born, you protect him.” I nodded enthusiastically. He was so pleased he blurted out, “By the way, when you graduate, come to the company. I’ll mentor you personally.” I acted surprised. “But Dad, aren’t you just a low-level employee? Can you hire people?” James looked awkward for a split second. “Ah, well, that was just to test your character. The company is actually mine.” “Don’t be mad at Dad. I’ll teach you the ropes. Eventually, you can hand it over to your brother.” I smiled. Done. After all this planning, I was finally on the inside. One day, I accompanied Auntie Zhang to a prenatal checkup. We ran into the mistress from the villa. She used to be dripping with jewels. Now, even heavy makeup couldn’t hide her haggard face. “You little slut! What spell did you cast on your father?!” “Why is he letting you into the company? Why?!” 5 She wanted to tear my face off? Hilarious. She used to act so high and mighty. I admired my manicure. “Why?” “Because it’s my grandparents’ company. Your crippled son will never touch it.” “You… you…” She shook with rage, raising her hand to slap me. I remembered the videos of her beating my mom. I wanted to rip her apart. But I held back. I’m a law-abiding citizen. I could kill her without lifting a finger. I could kill her heart. I grabbed her wrist mid-air. “Listen, side-piece. Hit me all you want, but don’t you dare touch Auntie Zhang. She’s carrying my dad’s flesh and blood. My baby brother.” I had done my homework. This woman, Eva, came from the same poor village as my dad. Childhood sweethearts. First love. If she had just been his white moonlight, fine. But she conspired to murder the people who funded her education. She hunted their daughter and granddaughter. Yes, my grandparents sponsored her too. This pair of wolves claimed to have true love. Today, I was going to make her wish she was dead. “What did you say?” Her face went ghost white as she stared at Auntie Zhang’s belly. I threw her hand away. “Oh, Dad didn’t tell you? He divorced my mom. For years he wouldn’t divorce her for you. But for Auntie Zhang and my brother? He moved instantly. He wants to give them legitimate status.” “Turns out, you were just a toy to him.” Auntie Zhang, right on cue, blushed and looked down shyly. “June, don’t tease me. I’m embarrassed.” Eva stumbled back, blood draining from her face. “James… you betrayed me… you betrayed me!” Eighteen years ago, she tried everything to get legitimate status for her son and failed. She tortured the rightful wife for a decade and failed. Now, for a new woman and a fetus, James acted instantly. What was she? What was her son? Their “true love” was a joke. Watching her crumble, I felt a rush of pure joy. This was my second gift. Now, it was time for James’s gift.

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The day after my high school graduation, my parents dropped a bomb: they were getting a divorce. Before I could even process the shock, my dad looked at me, his face drained of all color, and asked: “Maya, after we divorce, who do you choose to live with?” I was shaking with rage. I screamed, “I don’t choose anyone!” They looked at each other, their expressions turning ghastly pale. In the next second, they sprinted toward the open window and jumped. I watched them fall. I heard the sickening sound of them hitting the pavement below. My parents committed suicide right in front of me. I thought the nightmare was over, but the horror was just beginning. On the day of the funeral, my Grandma and Grandpa pulled me aside. With twisted, strange expressions, they asked: “Maya, we’re getting a divorce too. Who do you choose to live with?” 1 The day of the funeral was gloomy, the rain coming down in sheets. I stood by the gravesite, watching my parents’ caskets being lowered into the ground. My brain was absolute mush. Grandpa walked over and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Maya, your Grandma and I are getting a divorce.” I froze. “You… you guys are splitting up?” My voice trembled. Grandma shuffled out from behind him. Her face was gray, but her cloudy eyes burned with a strange, frantic intensity. “Who do you choose to live with?” It felt like someone had shoved a rock down my throat. I couldn’t speak. They were saying the exact same words my parents said before they died. “W-why?” My head was spinning. “You guys have been together for fifty years. You love each other. Why divorce?” Before my parents dropped the bomb, they were the perfect couple. They never fought. They doted on me. My grandparents were the same—inseparable. I didn’t understand. Why did everything change the moment I graduated? Why did everyone want a divorce? Grandma and Grandpa didn’t answer. They just stared at me, waiting for the verdict. A chill crawled up my spine. The image of my parents’ desperate, final glance before they jumped flashed in my mind. “No… No! I won’t choose…” I stumbled backward, shaking my head. “Don’t ask me! I’m not choosing!” Their expressions instantly sank. The fire in their eyes extinguished, replaced by a hollow darkness. Without answering my question, they turned around and walked straight toward the busy road outside the cemetery. “Grandpa! Grandma!!” I screamed, terror ripping through my throat. Thud! A semi-truck couldn’t brake in time. It slammed into them with a bone-chilling crunch. Blood mixed with the rainwater on the asphalt, spreading into a crimson river. I threw myself onto the wet ground, kneeling in the puddle of water and blood, my limbs ice cold. Echoing in my ears was their final question: “Maya, we’re getting a divorce. Who do you choose to live with?” 2 The police arrived quickly. I sat on the curb, my mind a total blank. “You’re saying they just… ran into traffic?” Detective Miller frowned, scrutinizing me. I tore at my hair, shaking my head violently. My thoughts were a chaotic mess driving me toward insanity. “I don’t know… They suddenly told me they were divorcing and asked who I wanted to live with. I said I wouldn’t choose, and then they just…” Miller’s brow furrowed. “Why?” I opened my mouth, but the words stuck. “I don’t know…” I finally choked out. “I really don’t know why they killed themselves…” Tears streamed down my face. In three days, I had lost four family members. Miller checked the nearby surveillance cameras. It confirmed my story. On the footage, my grandparents clearly walked into the path of the truck on purpose. Miller looked even more disturbed. He glanced at me with a strange expression. Just then, my phone rang. It was my Uncle Ben. He told me to come to his house immediately. He said it was urgent. Detective Miller patted my shoulder and offered to drive me. On the way, Miller asked more about my family. When I told him about my parents jumping off the building, his face darkened. “Your parents asked you who you’d live with before they jumped, too?” I nodded numbly, consumed by grief. Miller muttered, “This is too weird. Why ask that specific question before dying? Why would perfectly sane people commit suicide en masse?” His sharp eyes locked onto me, searching for any crack in my story. “I really don’t know!” I was on the verge of a breakdown. “I want to know why too!” We pulled into Uncle Ben’s driveway. Uncle Ben and Aunt Sarah were sitting on the couch, stiff as statues. When they saw me, it was like a spell broke. They pulled me down to sit between them. But the moment I sat, Aunt Sarah said something that made my blood run cold. “Maya, your uncle and I… we can’t go on like this.” “You guys are divorcing too?” I felt like all the energy had been drained from my body. My voice was barely a whisper. I locked eyes with Detective Miller. He looked just as shocked as I was. We both realized it. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Uncle Ben and Aunt Sarah looked rigid, their faces pale as sheets. “Yeah…” Uncle Ben’s voice sounded like he was being strangled. Aunt Sarah suddenly grabbed my wrist. Her grip was iron-tight. I tried to pull away, but she held on, staring dead into my eyes. Her voice shook, forcing my heart to hammer against my ribs. “Who do you choose to live with?” “I…” I couldn’t breathe. They didn’t give me a second to think. Their urgency ramped up. “Choose, Maya! Who do you pick?!” I struggled, biting my lip until it bled, keeping my mouth shut tight. I was terrified. I knew if I spoke, they would die. Their faces turned beet red. Sweat beaded on their foreheads. Veins popped in their necks. It looked like someone was holding a gun to their backs, forcing them to do this. “No… don’t force me…” I shook my head, feeling like my brain was going to explode. Seeing I wouldn’t answer, their breathing turned ragged. They gasped for air, their eyes filling with despair and madness. They started shaking violently. “Choose! The time is almost up!” Uncle Ben shook me roughly, his hands bruising my arms. “No! No! I don’t choose anyone! Uncle Ben, Aunt Sarah, what is happening to you? Why do I have to choose? What is going on?!” I screamed, terror and confusion suffocating me. Suddenly, their faces went slack. Total misery. “Time’s up,” Uncle Ben whispered, his eyes void of hope. What time? Before I could ask, they both pulled knives from their jackets. I scrambled backward in horror. Detective Miller lunged forward to stop them. But it was too late. Slash. Warm blood sprayed across my face. My uncle and aunt collapsed to the left and right of me, like puppets with their strings cut. Dead. 3 I sat there, frozen. My brain went blank, like a fuse had blown. Detective Miller looked horrified. Uncle Ben and Aunt Sarah died with their eyes wide open, tears still streaming down their faces, as if they had so much more to say. I looked at the blood on the floor and finally vomited. Parents. Grandparents. Aunt and Uncle. Six people. Gone. And every single one asked me to make a choice before they died. Who was next? Was there anyone left? I couldn’t think… Tears poured out, and my body shook uncontrollably. It felt like an invisible hand was manipulating everything. Later, sitting in the ER hallway, my hands were ice cold. The bodies had been taken away. The blood wasn’t fully cleaned up. The air smelled of iron. Detective Miller stood nearby, face grim. He lit a cigarette, his hands trembling. After a long silence, he said, “This isn’t normal.” My Nana (maternal grandmother) rushed in. I threw myself into her arms and wailed. Nana’s eyes were red. She grabbed my hand and said she was taking me home. I wanted to ask her so many things, but my throat was swollen shut. She didn’t speak the whole ride. Her face was grayer than the overcast sky. “Nana,” I whispered, “do you know something?” Her eyes flickered, avoiding mine. “Don’t think about it. Be a good girl. Let’s go home and sleep.” “But why did they die?” I pressed. “Why did they all want a divorce? Why did they ask me who to live with?” “Enough!” she snapped, her voice trembling. I flinched. The car went silent, save for the rhythmic swish-swish of the wipers. Maybe she realized she scared me, because her expression softened into her usual warmth. She smoothed my hair. “Maya, just rest. We can talk tomorrow, okay?” She wouldn’t talk, so I stopped asking. But my mind was racing. Did they really die because I refused to choose? Back at Nana’s house, I showered and lay in bed. A nameless dread wrapped around me. What did Nana know? I wanted to run out and demand answers, but then I heard whispering from the living room. It was Nana. Her voice was hushed, but through the thin walls, I caught fragments. “…Yeah, can’t delay anymore… time is almost up…” “…I know. I’ll take her over there tomorrow…” The words were broken, but terrifying. Time is almost up? That’s what Uncle Ben said before he died. I held my breath, trying to hear more, but the voices cut off abruptly. The silence was heavy. I instinctively scooted back against the headboard. Suddenly, the door creaked open. Nana walked in. Her eyes—usually so kind—were now staring at me with a dark, predatory intensity. “Why aren’t you asleep?” Her tone was cold. Not like my Nana at all. I stammered, “I… I was just about to…” Her face instantly shifted back to a gentle smile. She walked over and patted my head. “Sleep. Tomorrow, it all ends.” My throat tightened. “Tomorrow? What’s happening tomorrow?” She went silent again. “Nana,” I tested the waters, “can you tell me what’s going on? Why did everyone die?” A flash of coldness passed through her eyes before she handed me a glass of warm milk. “Drink this first. You’ll understand tomorrow.” She pushed the glass toward me. I had zero appetite, but seeing her desperate stare, I forced it down. Satisfied, she left. I lay there, tossing and turning. It was all so bizarre. Why did she keep saying the time was almost up? Around 1:00 AM, my phone buzzed. A text message. Who would text me at this hour? I unlocked the screen. It was Detective Miller. I tapped the message, and my scalp went numb. “Maya, RUN! That is not your Nana! Get out of there!” Creaaaak. My bedroom door handle turned. Nana was coming back. 4 A long shadow stretched across the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning sleep. She entered, her footsteps barely audible. She paced around the room, then stopped right by my bed. I felt her shallow, ragged breath on my face as she leaned over me. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought she’d hear it. I was sweating bullets. Finally, she turned and softly closed the door. I opened my eyes and grabbed my phone. I needed to ask Miller what he meant. Not my Nana? But the chat window was empty. The message was gone. Even Detective Miller’s contact info—gone. Deleted. I froze, then realized: Nana. She must have deleted it while I was “sleeping.” My palms were sweating. I crept out of bed and tiptoed to the door. I cracked it open an inch. Nana was standing right there! She was facing the door, just staring at it. I almost screamed. “Where are you going this late?” she asked, her voice low and gloomy. I fought the urge to collapse. “I… I’m thirsty. Getting water.” She didn’t speak. Her eyes followed me. I walked past her, my throat burning. She followed me to the kitchen and watched me drink. I gulped the water down, shaking. “Done,” I said, forcing a smile. “Going back to bed.” She didn’t smile. Just nodded. “Sleep early. Stop thinking so much.” I ran back to my room, heart pounding. I didn’t dare go out again. She was guarding the door. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I passed out. When I woke up the next morning, I checked my phone. Still no message from Miller. “Where are we going today?” I asked Nana as she packed a bag. “The funeral home… for Uncle Ben and Aunt Sarah?” She paused, then slowly looked up. Her voice was dangerously soft. “Who said we’re going to the funeral home?” My stomach dropped. “Then… where?” She smiled—a gentle, grandmotherly smile—but it made my skin crawl. “You want the truth, right? I promised I’d tell you. Come with me, and you’ll understand.” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm as I got into her car. But ten minutes into the drive, I realized something. This was the route to the hospital. I gripped the seatbelt. “Nana… why are we going to the hospital?” She didn’t look at me. “I planned to take you anyway. You’re sick…” My heart rate spiked. I was sure now. She wasn’t my Nana. My real Nana told me everything. She never hid things. And why take me to the hospital when I’m physically fine? “Who are you?” I scooted toward the door. “Detective Miller said… you aren’t my Nana.” The air in the car turned instantly frigid. She chuckled, the wrinkles around her eyes twitching. “Silly child. What are you talking about?” Her tone became overly sweet. “Maya, don’t be scared. Nana is here. We’ll face this together.” I was terrified. “I… I need to pee…” I pulled the door handle. Locked. Child lock was on.

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It started with a utility bill for a house I hadn’t stepped foot in for months. The notification on my phone was absurd—an overdue electricity notice for the lake house in upstate New York. I found it strange, unsettling enough that I changed my flight to Europe, deciding to drive up and check on the property before leaving the country. I pulled into the long, winding driveway, the gravel crunching under my tires, only to find the place blazing with lights. And it wasn’t just lights. My driveway was packed with cars, and the house was filled with faces I recognized. My old college crowd. I walked through the open front door, unnoticed in the chaos. And there, in the center of the living room, under the custom chandelier I’d picked out, my fiancée was locked in a passionate embrace with my high school nemesis. Before I could even process the air leaving my lungs, he saw me. He pulled away from her, keeping a possessive arm around her waist, and sneered. The look on his face was pure, distilled contempt. “This is a private party, Liam. Not a place for a loser like you. Get the hell out.” My fiancée, Serena, didn’t even look embarrassed. She just looked annoyed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Stop stalking me, Liam. We were just having fun, okay? You’re broke. A guy like you could never handle a woman like me.” I felt a dry, humorless laugh bubble up in my chest. I didn’t say a word. I just turned my back on them, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. “Yes, hello. I’d like to report a break-in. There are intruders in my home.” 1 The moment I stepped out of the car, I heard the bass thumping. I actually checked the deed on my phone just to make sure I hadn’t lost my mind. But no, this was my address. These people were partying in my house without my permission. I pushed open the heavy oak doors. It was exactly as I feared. A full-blown rager. Under the shifting colored lights, I realized I knew almost everyone here. What the hell was going on? Why were people I hadn’t seen since graduation drinking expensive scotch in my living room? Just as I was about to shout, to demand an explanation, the crowd erupted into a chant, drowning out my voice. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” I followed their gaze. In the center of the room, on a small raised platform, a man and a woman were blushing, laughing, and then, spurred on by the cheers, they kissed. deeply. The sight turned my blood to ice. I couldn’t breathe. The man was Brody Vance, the guy who had made my life a living hell in college. And the woman… that was Serena. My girlfriend of two years. The woman I had just proposed to. I stood there, trembling with a rage so cold it burned. The guests, oblivious to my presence, were gossiping loud enough for me to hear. “See? A goddess like Serena belongs with a rich guy like Brody.” “I heard Liam was still chasing after her. Sad, really. He never stood a chance against Brody.” “Why even mention him? Liam’s a nobody. He’s dirt poor. He doesn’t deserve her.” “I thought Serena and Liam were dating, though? Weird that she’s suddenly all over Brody.” 2 The gossip died down as a few people finally noticed me standing in the foyer. They pointed, stammering. “Liam? What… what are you doing here?” Internally, I scoffed. That’s the question I should be asking you. Their faces soured, likely remembering the insults they’d just hurled at me a few seconds ago. But I’m not one to hold a grudge over petty gossip. Not when there was something far more shattering happening right in front of me. Technically, I shouldn’t have been here. If everything had gone to plan, I would be settling into a first-class seat right now, heading to the Swiss Alps to spend the holidays with my family. But right before I left for the airport, I got that text. Electricity overdue. My first thought was that the contractor had left the heated floors running. I don’t care about the money—the bill was negligible—but my parents raised me to respect resources. Waste nothing. Since the estate was somewhat on the way to the airport, I changed my ticket to a later flight and drove up. I bought this place years ago but had never lived in it. The renovations were only finished two months ago. I had planned to air it out, maybe bring Serena here for her birthday after the holidays. I was going to give her the keys as an engagement gift. It was going to be the moment I finally told her the truth: I wasn’t just a mid-level employee. I was the heir to a multi-billion dollar legacy. I never imagined she would break in before I could give her the keys. Or that she’d be playing “Lady of the Manor” with Brody Vance’s help. I was lost in the betrayal, my face grim, when Brody grabbed a microphone. He signaled for the spotlight to swing toward me. “Well, look who the cat dragged in! Our old buddy Liam. What are you doing crashing my party? I don’t recall sending you an invite.” 3 I frowned, the irritation rising in my throat like bile. “You didn’t invite me, but this is my—” “Home.” The word never made it past my lips. Brody cut me off, his voice booming over the speakers. He grinned, that same arrogant, punchable grin from ten years ago. “Since I didn’t invite you, you must have some nerve showing up here. My house smells like money, Liam. It doesn’t mix well with your desperate, poverty-stricken scent.” He stepped closer to the edge of the platform. “Or maybe… maybe after all these years, you finally grew up. You realized money is the only thing that matters. Are you here to beg? Did you finally regret snitching on me back in school? Are you here to be my lackey?” Brody and I were from different worlds. Sophomore year, he tried to buy me off. Five hundred bucks to help him cheat on finals so he wouldn’t flunk out. I took the cash as evidence, went straight to the Dean, and reported him. He got suspended. I became his target. His harassment got so bad I eventually transferred to a university in Europe. I’d only been back in the States for a few years when I reconnected with Serena. I shook my head, my voice steady. “If I had to do it a hundred times over, I’d still report you. I don’t help cheaters.” Brody rolled his eyes. “So stubborn. I know your type, Liam.” “You’re just a small-town striver. You think reading books and following rules can beat three generations of wealth. Then you hit the real world and realize… all that studying just makes you a qualified servant for people like me.” He laughed, a cruel, barking sound. “But hey, I’m a generous guy. I don’t hold grudges against the help. Tell you what—get on your knees, call me ‘Daddy,’ and lick the mud off my shoes. Do a good job, and I might just give you a chance.” 4 The room erupted in laughter. These were the same people who used to follow Brody around campus like lost puppies. Adulthood hadn’t matured them; it just made them crueler. They were baying for blood. “Take the offer, Liam! One ‘Daddy’ could set you up for life!” “Kneel down! Don’t be an idiot. Swallow your pride.” “Opportunity knocks once, man. Don’t let your ego ruin it.” “Brody doesn’t hire just anyone. You should be grateful.” I knew better than to argue with a mob. I ignored them, locking eyes with Serena. “I asked you to come meet my parents,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. “You told me you were going home to visit your folks for the holidays. So why are you here? Is Brody your father now?” Brody feigned shock, slapping his forehead. “Oh! I get it. You’re not here for the party. You’re here stalking Serena!” He pulled Serena tighter against him, staking his claim. “Babe, didn’t you say you were single? That you only loved me? Why is this loser talking like that?” Serena’s face had been pale since I walked in, but now it twisted into a scowl. She looked at me and practically spat. “You are so disgusting, Liam. Can’t you take a hint? I rejected you nicely, but you had to go and stalk me? How many times do I have to say it? I will never be with a broke loser like you!” She continued, her voice rising in pitch. “I didn’t call the cops because I felt sorry for you. I didn’t want to embarrass you. But where do you get this confidence? Why would I ever turn down Brody to go meet your parents? What do they do, work construction?” “Let me spell it out: Brody is a thousand times the man you are. You aren’t even worth the dirt on his shoes. We are done. If you keep following me like a creep, I swear I’ll have you arrested!” 5 Brody was beaming. He planted a wet kiss on Serena’s cheek. “That’s what I like to hear. A woman who knows her worth.” Serena looked relieved, like she had successfully dodged a bullet, terrified Brody might misunderstand her relationship with me. It was laughable. Truly. I thought confronting her might make her feel a shred of guilt. Instead, she dehumanized me, painting me as some obsessed stalker to save her own skin. The image of the elegant, kind woman I thought I loved crumbled into dust. I felt a flash of deep shame for ever loving her. I wanted to slap myself awake. Seeing my anger, Brody decided to twist the knife. He signaled to a few of the guys—former linebackers, mostly—who grabbed me and shoved me toward the platform. Brody leaned down, whispering so only I could hear. “You know what they say about revenge, Liam? Cold. Best served cold. When you snitched on me and ran away, you should have known this day would come.” “I did this on purpose. I knew you loved her. I knew you were her little puppy. So I seduced her. And guess what? She’s smarter than you. The second she realized I had money, she took her clothes off and jumped into my bed.” He smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “I heard you two were taking it slow? ‘Platonic’? ‘Waiting for marriage’? Man, you have no idea what she’s like in the sack. She’s a wild animal.” He wanted me to swing at him. He wanted a reason to have his goons beat me to a pulp. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I smiled, calm and cool. “Actually, I should be thanking you. You saved me. You showed me she’s just a gold digger.” “Because I wasn’t her puppy, Brody. And I wasn’t stalking her. She pursued me. And the funny thing is… she just said yes to my proposal.”

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