Category: English

My cooking video went viral for the first time. All because I let my wife, Eva—a certified kitchen disaster—make a plate of sweet and sour ribs that came out looking like a twisted, blackened nightmare. The comments section exploded: 【OMG! How did she mess up every single step?】 【My dog could cook better than that!】 I sighed. At least it was getting views. Then, a few comments scrolled by that stopped my heart. 【Wait a second! Isn’t that Eva Burke? The culinary goddess who disappeared years ago?!】 【Back in the day, she and her partner, Ross Grey, were legends in the food world!】 Suddenly, the screen was flooded with a new narrative. 【Case closed! The goddess hasn’t forgotten how to cook. She just reserves her skills for Ross Grey!】 【Who is this husband guy? What gives him the right to make a legend like her break her sacred vow?】 I sat there, bathed in the cold light of my phone, and looked at the woman who had been a quiet, unassuming presence in my life for years. And for the first time, she felt like a complete stranger. 1 My fingers scrolled down mechanically, unearthing more and more comments that pieced together a dazzling, brilliant version of my wife I never knew existed. Eva Burke. She was once a rising star in the culinary scene, a food blogger with breathtaking skill and a perfect partner named Ross Grey. “Eva & Ross’s Table.” I whispered the unfamiliar name, my finger trembling as I typed it into the search bar. The account had been dormant for years, but the old videos were still there. In the thumbnail, a younger Eva, her eyes sparkling with life, wore a crisp chef’s coat. Her arm was casually draped around a handsome, smiling man. She looked so different from the Eva I married, who was always composed, always serene, always distant. This was a version of her I had never seen—brimming with confidence and passion. I clicked on the video with the most views. In it, Eva was expertly filleting a fish. Her hands were as steady as a surgeon’s, the knife gliding effortlessly, creating slices as thin as dragonfly wings. She turned to Ross, her smile soft and genuine. “Jules, can you pass me the spiced honey? You always did like things a little sweeter, right?” Ross’s warm, laughing voice came from off-screen. “You know it. You’re the only one who remembers.” The intimacy in his tone was a physical sting. My mind reeled back to just last week. I was in the kitchen, buried under a mountain of invoices for the bistro, so stressed that my lip was chapped and bleeding. Eva came home from work, glanced at the stove, and frowned. “Still not done? Just whip something up we can eat.” I had hoped she might offer to help, even just to wash some vegetables. “I’m swamped, Eva,” I pleaded. “Could you maybe…” She cut me off, her voice flat. “I don’t cook, Leo. You know that. Let’s just order takeout.” She said it so matter-of-factly. Just like she always did. Every time I was drowning in the stress of keeping the bistro afloat; every time I stayed up until the early hours of the morning perfecting a new recipe; every time she saw my hands shaking from sheer exhaustion—she just stood by, offering a simple, dismissive, “I don’t cook.” It turns out, it wasn’t that she couldn’t. She just wouldn’t. Not for me. In the video, she saw a tiny drop of hot oil splash near Ross and immediately grabbed his hand, inspecting it with frantic concern. “We have to protect Jules,” she said to the camera, “not a single scratch.” But I remembered last month when I threw out my back hauling sacks of flour. I was sweating through my shirt from the pain, and she just watched me, finally saying, “If you can’t handle it, then don’t do it. Why push yourself?” The brutal contrast was a freezing tide washing over my heart, a dull, suffocating ache. This bistro was my father’s life’s work. On his deathbed, he had gripped my hand and made me promise to keep it going. I had poured every cent of my savings, every ounce of my soul into it. I barely ate, barely slept. I was stretched as taut as a violin string. Eva saw all of it. She had the skill to save this place. A single demonstration of her talent could have been the lifeline we needed. But she chose to hide it. She chose to watch my father’s legacy, my entire world, slide slowly into bankruptcy. She even played along with my stupid video, acting the part of the kitchen disaster, leaving me to struggle alone in my despair. I switched off the video and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the storm raging in my chest. No, I can’t think like that. Maybe… maybe she had her reasons. Everyone has a past. And besides the cooking, she was a good wife. She contributed her salary to the household, remembered my birthday and our son’s, and brought me a glass of water when I was sick. She wasn’t overly affectionate with our son, Toby, but she held him, she took care of him. She did her duty as a mother. I had to believe there was more to the story. I decided to give myself, and our family, one more chance. I called her, forcing my voice to sound calm and sincere. “Eva, you know what this bistro means to me. It’s the last piece of my dad I have left.” My voice trembled, betraying me. “It’s about to go under. I’m asking you, just this once, to please… please cook something for real. Do it for me. Can you do that?” There was a pause on the other end, and then her voice came back, laced with that familiar impatience. “Leo, I don’t cook. You’ve always known that.” In that instant, my heart sank to the bottom of a cold, dark ocean. My voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of all my broken hope. “Then what about ‘Eva & Ross’s Table’?” 2 The line went silent for a moment. When Eva spoke again, her voice was as calm and placid as ever. “Since you know, I might as well be clear.” There was no hesitation, no attempt to hide. Each word was a sharp, deliberate cut into my heart. “I promised Jules my cooking was for him and him alone. That’s a promise I made to him, and I won’t break it for anyone.” A promise? For a promise to another man, she would stand by and watch my entire world crumble? A wave of fury, mixed with a bitter taste of despair, crashed over me. “So that’s it?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “You’d just watch the bistro die? Watch me drown in anxiety every single day? Eva, with your reputation, you wouldn’t even have to cook! You could just show up, say a few words, or—or even just let me use your name! That alone could have saved us!” My voice rose to a sharp, unfamiliar pitch. Eva just listened quietly. When I was done shouting, she delivered her final, cruel blow. “That bistro was always going to fail, Leo. Stop fighting a losing battle.” Her words severed my last thread of hope. “You’re disgusting, Eva.” I spat the words out with what little defiance I had left and hung up, feeling like all the strength had been drained from my body. Just then, a notification popped up on my screen. 【Eva & Ross’s Table is LIVE! Ross’s back in the country for a surprise reunion with Eva!】 My thumb moved on its own, clicking the link. There was Ross, as charming as ever. And next to him, wearing an apron and expertly tossing a wok, was my wife. The woman who, in my kitchen, couldn’t tell salt from sugar was now a whirlwind of graceful precision, her control over the heat and ingredients absolute. She would occasionally turn to speak with Ross, her eyes filled with a focus and warmth I had never, ever seen directed at me. “Be careful, Jules. It’s hot.” She took a plate from his hands, her movements gentle and natural. Then, a little boy, maybe five or six years old, appeared on camera. Ross introduced him as his son, who was fascinated by cooking. Eva knelt, her patience seemingly infinite, and guided the boy’s hands as he tried to chop a vegetable. Her voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “That’s right, sweetheart, keep your wrist steady. You’re so smart.” She called him sweetheart. She smiled at him with such genuine tenderness. My son, Toby… she would hold him sometimes, but she had never once shown him that kind of patient affection. When Toby would bring her a picture book, begging for a story, she’d always say, “Mommy’s tired.” When he proudly showed her a gold star he’d earned at preschool, she’d offer a lukewarm, “Hmm, that’s nice.” … These images were razor blades, shredding the last of my delusions. I closed the livestream, my chest heaving, but my eyes remained stubbornly dry. Just then, the front door opened. It was Toby, home from school. He didn’t even take off his little backpack before he threw himself into my arms and burst into tears. “Daddy… sniff… the other kids said… they said Mommy doesn’t want us anymore… They said she has a new baby now, and she doesn’t want Toby…” He sobbed hysterically, his little face turning red. “I want Mommy! I can’t live without Mommy…” Seeing my son’s raw fear and pain extinguished the fire of my own rage. My resolve to burn everything to the ground vanished. He was right. Toby needed his mother. What would happen to him if Eva and I were at war? I held my son tight, forcing myself to breathe, to calm down. I decided to give her one last chance. I sent her a text. “Toby’s birthday is tomorrow. Be home early.” It took a long time for her to reply. “Got it.” 3 The clock struck ten. On the dining table, the birthday dinner I’d made for Toby had been reheated for the third time. Toby had gone from bouncing with excitement, to anxiously peering out the window, to now, curled up in the corner of the sofa, his little head nodding with sleep. He was still clutching the drawing he had made for his mom. “Daddy, did Mommy forget?” he mumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes, his voice thick with disappointment. “Mommy’s probably just busy with work…” I said, the excuse tasting like ash in my mouth. I didn’t even believe it myself. The hands on the clock ticked mercilessly past midnight. His birthday was over. My heart sank into the darkness with the night. I stared at the plate of sweet and sour ribs, now misshapen and dull from being reheated so many times. I remembered when we were first married; even though she wouldn’t cook, she would at least look at this dish when I served it and say, “It’s delicious.” When did even that small, feigned warmth disappear? This marriage was just like this dish—spoiled, sticky, and giving off a sickening stench. I called her one last time. It rang for a long time before she picked up. The background was a chaotic symphony of voices and clattering cookware, a stark contrast to the dead silence of my home. “Hello?” Her voice was sharp with the impatience of being busy. “Eva, where are you? It was Toby’s birthday. You promised…” “Something came up. I can’t make it back.” She cut me off without a hint of apology, as if she were canceling a casual coffee date. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. “What could possibly be more important than your son’s birthday?” “Jules needs help calibrating the equipment for the livestream. I can’t leave,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then her tone shifted, becoming demanding. “By the way, that batch of black truffles you got—they’re still at the bistro, right? Bring them over now. Ross needs them for his next dish.” I was stunned into silence, then let out a cold, bitter laugh. That batch of top-grade black truffles… I had pulled so many strings, gone through hell and back, and used nearly the last of my cash flow to get them. I was banking on them for a new signature dish, a final, desperate attempt to save my restaurant. “Those truffles are for—” I started, trying to explain how important they were to me. “I know you got them,” she interrupted again, her voice dripping with undisguised contempt. “But that kind of ingredient is wasted on you. Its true potential can only be realized in the hands of a real chef, like Ross. Stop wasting time and bring them over. We need them now.” Wasted on me? In her eyes, all my effort, all my passion, was just a waste? And whatever Ross needed was simply her command? The dam of resentment, anger, and humiliation that had been building not just all night, but for years, finally burst. My voice trembled, but the words came out with chilling clarity. “Evelyn! Have you no shame?!” I slammed the phone down. The tears finally came, hot and furious, but I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound. A small, warm hand gently touched my cheek. Toby was awake, standing in front of me. His own face was streaked with tears, but he looked at me with a solemnity far beyond his years. “Daddy, don’t cry,” he said. “Mommy’s bad. She made Daddy sad. I don’t want her anymore either.” My son’s words were like a splash of ice water, instantly dousing the flames of my rage and replacing them with a cold, hard clarity. The family I had fought so desperately to hold together was, in Eva’s eyes, something she could cast aside at a moment’s notice. Could my son ever truly be happy in a home like this? I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and pulled Toby into a hug. In that moment, my decision was made. I stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and took down a dusty folder. Inside were our marriage certificate and our family’s official documents. I placed them on the table, my gaze calm. Since she was so busy being a mother to someone else’s child, my son and I didn’t need her anymore. 4 Meanwhile, at Ross’s studio, preparations for the live broadcast were in full swing. Eva stared at her phone, frowning. Her calls to me were going straight to voicemail. “What’s wrong? Hasn’t Leo brought the truffles yet?” Ross asked, handing her a glass of water. His voice was gentle, but a flicker of calculation crossed his eyes. He sighed dramatically. “I bet he’s still mad at me… It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I know he’s in a tough spot right now, so it’s only natural he’d take it out on you… It’s just a shame it might affect tonight’s broadcast…” Eva rubbed her temples, annoyed. Leo had never been this defiant before. “It’s fine,” she said coolly, turning to an assistant. “Go to The Hearthstone Bistro. Go to the back kitchen and get that batch of black truffles.” The assistant nodded and left. With the addition of the premium ingredient, Ross’s livestream was a massive success. The reunion of the legendary pair ignited a wave of nostalgia across the internet, and the video went viral overnight. The next day, the media descended on them like vultures. Ross smiled at the cameras, the picture of refined charm. “I really have to thank Eva for last night’s success. Without her, none of this would have been possible. The chemistry between us… it’s never changed.” The implication in his words sent a ripple of excitement through the reporters. One journalist pushed a microphone towards Eva. “It seems your connection with Mr. Grey is truly special! Will you two be officially teaming up again to bring back the glory of ‘Eva & Ross’s Table’?” Eva faced the flashing cameras, her expression as calm as ever. “No,” she said after a moment’s thought. “I have a family to consider. I have to respect my husband’s feelings. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” As she finished, a strange, awkward silence fell over the crowd. The smile on Ross’s face froze. Just then, a reporter in the back raised his phone high in the air. “Ms. Burke, are you referring to your husband, Leo?” he shouted. “Because this morning, your husband posted a new video on his social media.” “It was a divorce announcement.” 5 The reporter’s words were a thunderclap in Eva’s ears. A divorce announcement? She instinctively pulled out her phone. On my social media page, the embarrassing “kitchen disaster” video was gone. In its place was a new, pinned video with a simple black-and-white thumbnail. 【Moving On. A Statement on My Divorce.】 The caption underneath was even more cutting: “Your talent belongs to someone else. My future belongs to me.” The comment section was a war zone. Some accused me of riding her coattails for fame, others sympathized with my situation, and many tagged her directly, asking if she had cheated. The more Eva read, the tighter her frown became, and a sense of dread washed over her. “Eva, don’t worry,” Ross whispered, his voice laced with the perfect amount of concern. “Leo is probably just being impulsive… He probably saw how well we work together and got jealous. This is just his way of getting your attention…” On any other day, Eva might have found his words comforting. But now, her mind was a chaotic mess. She turned and walked away from the press conference without another word. Ross, stunned for a second, hurried after her. Eva dialed my number again and again, only to be met with the cold tone of a busy signal. She sped home. The house was eerily quiet. Most of my and Toby’s belongings were gone, making the living room feel vast and empty. On the coffee table sat a crisp, new set of divorce papers. A flame of anger ignited in her chest. Her first thought was the bistro—the only thing she knew I still cared about. She stormed into The Hearthstone Bistro to find me at the stove, my back to her, calmly sautéing vegetables. Ross immediately stepped forward, putting on his best puppy-dog face. “Leo, please don’t misunderstand Eva. It’s all my fault. I’m the one who begged her to help… We’re just colleagues, really. She’s always telling me how wonderful you are, how much you’ve sacrificed for your family…” Wonderful? I almost laughed out loud. Eva seized on his words as if they were proof. “Did you hear that? Ross is defending you. He’s not like you, throwing tantrums, giving the silent treatment, and threatening divorce!” I turned off the stove, plated the food, and finally turned to face them. My eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. “Did you read the papers? Sign them. Toby and I will be moved out in a few days.” Seeing my unyielding resolve, a flash of panic crossed Ross’s eyes. He stepped closer, his voice cracking with manufactured pain. “Leo, how could you? Can’t we talk about this? Why would you use divorce, use your own child, to blackmail Eva? Toby is so young! What’s he going to do?” Eva’s eyes lit up with understanding. She composed herself, looking down at me with a condescending air. “Don’t think you can control me with Toby and this divorce stunt, Leo. Take down the announcement right now, and we can talk.” I finally met their gaze, and the raw disgust and ice in my eyes made Eva flinch.

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I got drunk at a company dinner and called my boss “Hubby.” My coworkers laughed. “She’s so desperate to date the boss she’s losing it.” My old boss, Luke, glared at me coldly. “Can’t control your mouth? Then why drink?” In the brief silence, the notoriously difficult client sitting across from us scoffed. “She was talking to me.” “Why are you getting so excited?” Chapter 1 I chased Luke Anderson from college all the way to his company, becoming his assistant. Everyone knew I liked him. Once, while delivering files, I heard people gossiping inside his office. “Ava is such a rich girl. She lowered herself to be your assistant. Can you really bear to see that?” Luke clicked his tongue. “She wanted to come. What could I do?” The others laughed. “True. She always loved sticking to you.” “It’s been years and she hasn’t changed.” “But Luke, are you really not going to date Ava?” “She’s dreaming of being with you.” “Last time her family set her up on a blind date, you called us out to drink late at night. I thought you cared about her.” After that sentence, Luke suddenly sounded angry, his voice turning cold. “Just a clingy nuisance. Why would I care?” Outside the door, my hand, poised to knock, slowly dropped. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The people inside froze for a second because of my intrusion. But only for a second. Soon, someone smiled like nothing happened. “Assistant Ava, bringing breakfast for Luke again?” My daily, rain-or-shine breakfast delivery. Luke didn’t even look up, as if he already knew what I was doing. He just casually nodded towards the desk. “Put it there.” But I shook my head. I placed the files in my hand and a resignation letter on the table. “Not breakfast.” “It’s my resignation letter.” “Mr. Anderson, please review it.” Chapter 2 Everyone was stunned. They swarmed forward, and after reading the words on the letter clearly, they asked in disbelief: “Wait, Ava, are you serious?” Luke finally frowned and looked up. He looked at me. “What’s this about?” I pushed the resignation letter toward him. “I’m resigning.” “I sent the digital copy to your email too. Remember to check.” Luke glanced at the letter on the table and asked impatiently: “Just because I made you work overtime yesterday?” I shook my head: “No.” “I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Luke’s face finally darkened bit by bit. As I turned to leave, he called my name. “Ava.” “If you leave now, there’s no chance of coming back to my side.” It sounded like a threat, and a warning. I didn’t look back. “Music to my ears.” The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped to freezing point. As I pushed the door open to leave, I heard tentative voices behind me. “Luke, she’s just throwing a tantrum, don’t take it to heart…” “Yeah, you know how much she likes you.” “Maybe she’ll regret it this afternoon and beg to come back…” Luke stared at the closed door and sneered. “Who cares about her.” Chapter 3 I threw away all the useless stuff from the company. In the end, nothing was left. Looking at the empty desk, I felt like laughing. My mind replayed the anonymous video I received last night while working overtime. In the dimly lit karaoke bar, Luke had his arm around a stunning woman, listening indifferently to the chatter around him. “Is Ava really obediently doing grunt work at the office right now?” “Of course. Luke has his ways. That rich girl hasn’t joined our parties in ages.” Indeed. I chased Luke for so many years. A wealthy heiress, acting like his servant. As long as he asked, I willingly worked overtime and socialized for him, ruining my health. In the end, all I got was a joke from his bros. “Looking at it this way, Ava really is like the most obedient dog around Luke.” And he stood by, swirling his drink, not denying it. He even chuckled. “What are you saying?” “She’s the only one around me who acts like a dog. Where’s the competition?” The room erupted in laughter. In that moment, it felt like a bucket of ice water was poured over me. It was cold. But I also felt instantly awake. Thinking about it, I silently took out my phone and found the contact of the blind date my family introduced a while ago. I heard he was a top-tier guy. I was just so focused on Luke before that I kept delaying the meeting, wanting to ruin the setup. Now… Although it seemed a bit unethical. But everyone knows the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else—or at least start something new. I tapped the screen. [Want to meet tomorrow?] To my surprise, he replied almost instantly. [Okay.] Chapter 4 The blind date was a gentleman. He offered to let me pick the time, and he’d arrange the place. But previously, when my parents mentioned blind dates, I tuned out completely. So now I knew nothing about this guy. Arriving early at the venue, I hesitated at the door. What if I didn’t recognize him? That would be awkward. While pacing, I accidentally bumped into someone. I looked up. I saw a perfectly tailored suit. And above that, a face so exquisitely handsome it was unfair to humanity. And the owner of this face was looking at me gently. “Why aren’t you going in?” His thin lips, which looked very kissable, moved as he spoke… I subconsciously swallowed. Then I realized my loss of composure. Because I knew this man. Ethan Sterling. A famous tycoon in the industry. I’d seen him countless times on the list of target partners for Luke’s company. But rumor had it he was ruthless, cold, and extremely unapproachable. Not a single collaboration attempt had succeeded. I backed away repeatedly to let him pass. “Sorry, sorry, I’m waiting for someone, got a bit distracted. So sorry, please go ahead…” But the man in front of me chuckled lightly. “Miss Sullivan.” I looked up in surprise. How did he know my last name? His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Is there a possibility that the person you’re waiting for is me?” Chapter 5 I was shook. My family just said they introduced a really great guy. But I never dared to dream it would be someone on Ethan Sterling’s level. Until I was sitting face-to-face with Ethan in the private room he arranged. I kept a smile on my face. Under the table, my hand was frantically texting my mom. [The guy you set me up with is Ethan Sterling?] [Since when is our family powerful enough to marry into his?] [Did you guys secretly become billionaires without telling me?] My mom replied instantly with a question mark. [?] [What are you talking about, honey? Daydreaming?] [It’s a distant nephew of Ethan Sterling.] [Didn’t your aunt tell you clearly?] I glanced at the man opposite me, who was watching me with a smile. Could there be a second face this handsome in the world? Our eyes met. I couldn’t pretend to be busy anymore. I could only stammer. “Um…” “You are… Mr. Ethan Sterling, right?” He nodded, then gave an apologetic smile. “Yes.” “My bad, I haven’t introduced myself yet.” “Hello, Miss Sullivan. I’m Ethan Sterling, your blind date. It’s an honor to meet you.” A concise introduction. It just completely contradicted the info my mom gave me. I was confused. “But, the date my family arranged… wasn’t…” Ethan raised an eyebrow. He took a sip of tea from the cup on the table. “That kid isn’t good enough for you.” “So I came.” He looked up at me. “What’s wrong?” “Does Miss Sullivan prefer him?” I froze. The way he spoke… Why did it seem like he knew me well? My heart drummed in my chest. Ethan remained composed, his calm, deep eyes staring unblinkingly at me, clearly expecting an answer. I had to brace myself and speak. “Of course not… I don’t even know him.” He chuckled. “Then it doesn’t matter if I take his place, right?” I gulped. “No…” Of course it didn’t matter to me. Either way, he was the one getting the short end of the stick, right? But Ethan seemed happy with my answer. He produced a thick book from somewhere, stood up, leaned over, and placed it in front of me. “That’s good.” “This is my resume. It contains my basic info, hobbies, career, salary, and personal assets. Please take a look, Miss Sullivan.” “To be honest, Miss Sullivan, I came to this blind date with the intention of marriage.” “My social circle has no other women. I can guarantee absolute loyalty to the marriage. After marriage, I will fulfill all pre-marital promises and transfer all personal assets to you unconditionally.” “I won’t put any pressure on my partner. Short of divorce, she will enjoy absolute freedom.” “If Miss Sullivan is satisfied with my conditions, I hope my wish…” He paused after the long speech. Those beautiful eyes started sending electricity my way again. “Can be considered.” Ethan’s voice was already warm and magnetic, and that handsome face was staring right at me. I was getting dizzy. Floating. Was this a hallucination because Luke drove me crazy? I pinched my thigh hard under the table. Ouch. It hurt! Not a dream. Maybe my expression was getting too blank. It wasn’t until Ethan’s eyes filled with laughter that I realized I had lost my composure again. I quickly grabbed my cup for a tactical sip of water. Then I pretended to be calm. “Mr. Sterling.” “Do you mean… you want to marry me?” He looked at me. Nodded very seriously. “Yes.” “Miss Sullivan, I hope to have the honor of becoming your husband.”

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The SAT results were in. My son had scored a perfect 1600. Just as I was drowning in the joy of his success, he stormed into my office, dragging his girlfriend behind him. “Mom, the new ‘Joint Merit’ policy just dropped. The top ten scorers in the country can pay a $500,000 donor fee to select one other student to be admitted with them!” The girl smirked, triumph written all over her face. “Mrs. Sterling, Oliver and I have already linked our applications. You can’t stop us from being together now. Hurry up and write the check!” At that exact moment, a stream of floating text—like a livestream chat—scrolled across my vision: 【Here it comes! The male lead is finally escaping his controlling mother! He’s going to Harvard with his baby girl!】 【That old witch better not stop our power couple! Or else, when the male lead inherits the empire, she’s the first one he’ll destroy!】 The corner of my lips curled up. The idiot wants to inherit the empire? He clearly didn’t read the fine print. The “Joint Merit” policy requires the two students to average their scores for final placement. And his girlfriend? She scored a 400. That’s the score you get just for signing your name. Chapter 1 In his senior year, Oliver was called to the principal’s office for the first time. The reason? A toxic relationship was tanking his grades. For any parent of a senior, this is a nightmare. I tried to reason with him. This wasn’t the time for romance. Especially not with Bella. “Her mother is the mistress your father left me for,” I told him, trying to keep my voice steady. “Your father walked away with nothing, and that woman has held a grudge ever since. Now her daughter is latching onto you. You think that’s a coincidence?” Oliver defended her with the passion of a fool. “Mom, Bella is innocent! Why should she pay for her mother’s mistakes?” Getting into Harvard had been his lifelong dream. I couldn’t watch him throw it away at the finish line. When he refused to listen, I took drastic measures. I had my security team tail him. I banned him from seeing Bella until after the SATs. I hired the best tutors in the country and a Michelin-star chef to manage his diet. I ensured he was in peak condition for the exam. When he scored that 1600, I felt a weight lift off my chest. But before I could even pop the champagne, he pulled this stunt. According to the floating text—the “Chat,” as I called it—I was living in a romance novel. Oliver was the male lead, Bella was the heroine. They were the star-crossed lovers fighting against the world. And I? I was “The World.” I was the villain destined to be locked in a psychiatric ward by my own son. I watched the text scroll by as Oliver stared at me, impatient. “Mom, five hundred grand is pocket change to you. You wouldn’t block my happiness over money, would you?” He had the CEO posture down, I’ll give him that. “Oliver,” I said, looking at the boy I raised. “Setting aside who she is… do you really plan to go to college with someone who refuses to study?” Oliver hesitated. Bella saw it. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. “Mrs. Sterling, I know you hate me. But who says low scores mean I can’t go to Harvard? Everyone is created equal! This is discrimination!” The Chat exploded with cheers. 【Yasss Queen! Why should a test define our worth?】 【Choice > Effort! As long as she has the male lead, she deserves to win!】 【Speak truth to power, Bella!】 I almost laughed out loud. “Right,” I said dryly. “Why should grades matter for Harvard? Maybe they should test for audacity instead. You’d be Valedictorian.” Bella turned red, then buried her face in Oliver’s chest. “Sob… I told you she hates me… Oliver, I guess I can’t go with you.” Oliver, heartbroken, glared at me. “Mom! You just hate her because you’re jealous that Dad loves her mom! I’m your son. Can’t you compromise for me just once?” The Chat spammed: 【Protective boyfriend mode: ON!】 My heart skipped a beat, then hardened into ice. “What did you call her? Her mom?” Chapter 2 Oliver was busy comforting the crying beauty in his arms. When he looked back at me, his eyes held no love. Only resentment. “That’s right! I visited Dad after the exams. Fiona isn’t the monster you painted her to be. She’s gentle and kind. She takes care of Dad and Bella. Unlike you—always in meetings, always traveling. Aside from making money, what have you ever done for this family?” I trembled. When Oliver was seven, my ex-husband cheated. Fiona, the mistress, showed up at our house constantly, spreading rumors and making our lives hell. My husband and I fought a bitter divorce war over assets. I fought tooth and nail to stop him from hiding money. I won. He left with nothing. I never sugarcoated his father’s actions to Oliver. He was old enough to remember Fiona screaming slurs at us on our front porch. The Chat scrolled by, giving me an idea. “I see,” I said slowly. “You’re saying that even though I gave you millions, what you really wanted was… love?” “Exactly!” Oliver shouted. “I got the score you wanted. Now stop standing in the way of my happiness!” I wanted to laugh. Getting into Harvard was his dream. Since when did it become my demand? I poured endless resources into making him elite. I gave him a status most would kill for. But if his dream was to ruin his life with a dropout, who was I to stop him? “Fine,” I said. “I agree. You can go to college together.” If he wanted to destroy his future, I’d hand him the matches. Oliver’s face lit up. “Mom, I knew you’d understand! When Bella and I graduate from Harvard, we’ll come back and take over Sterling Corp. You can finally retire.” In your dreams, kid. Chapter 3 Oliver was beaming, but Bella nudged him. “The money,” she whispered. He held out his hand. “Right. The $500,000 fee. Transfer it.” I raised an eyebrow. “Five hundred thousand? I read the policy. The application fee is $50. Can you two really not afford fifty bucks?” Oliver blinked, flushing crimson. “Is… is that right? Maybe I misread it.” Bella looked furious, but Oliver dragged her away before she could speak. The Chat faded as they left: 【OMG, the old witch is so cheap! He wanted that money to take Bella to Europe!】 【How are they supposed to see the Northern Lights now?】 【Whatever, at least she didn’t stop them. The good life is coming!】 【Wait… the policy literally just came out. How did the mom know they were trying to scam her?】 How? Because you idiots told me. I sat in the garden, pruning my roses, when Oliver’s guidance counselor called, sounding like he was having a stroke. “Mrs. Sterling! Oliver linked his profile with the lowest-ranked student in the district! Did you know about this?” “I know,” I said calmly. “He’s an adult. Let him be.” “But Mrs. Sterling! The policy averages the scores! That girl got a 400! A 400 on the SAT!” I knew. The Chat had been spamming it. Everyone assumed I would use my wealth to bribe Bella into Harvard to save Oliver. But why would I save the knife that stabbed me in the back? “Averaged out, that’s a 1000,” I said. “Not bad. Good enough for community college.” The counselor tried to argue, but I hung up. “Mrs. Sterling,” my assistant asked, confused. “Are you really letting him throw it all away?” “He’s not my son anymore,” I said coldly. “He’s chosen his side.” “Should we cancel the celebratory gala?” I paused. “No. Didn’t we sponsor a brilliant scholarship student who also got into the Ivy League? Throw the gala for her.” Chapter 4 I went to visit Maya, the scholarship student. She lived in a run-down apartment complex. As I approached, the Chat appeared again, thick and chaotic. I signaled my bodyguards to hold back. The door was ajar. Inside, Bella and her posse of mean girls had pushed a thin girl to the ground. “Stop acting like a victim!” Bella sneered. “I warned you to stay away from Oliver.” “I didn’t do anything…” Maya’s voice shook. Bella grabbed Maya’s chin. “Listen to me. Oliver linked his profile with mine. His mom is going to pay whatever it takes to get us both into Harvard. You? You’re going to change your application to a community college. If I see you at Harvard, I will make your life a living hell.” The Chat cheered: 【Yasss! Bella establishing dominance!】 【Bunny turned into a wolf! Love it!】 I kicked the door open. Bella spun around, raising a bat, but froze when she saw me. I helped Maya up. “Are you okay?” “Thank you, Mrs. Sterling,” Maya whispered. Bella rolled her eyes. “Oh great, the witch is here.” I shot her a look that could freeze water. “Assistant, call the police.” We spent hours at the precinct. Bella had to call her mom, Fiona, to bail her out. Fiona looked at me with pure venom. “You think money makes you better than us? You couldn’t keep your husband, and now you can’t keep your son.” I ignored her and focused on Maya. “If they bother you again, call me immediately.” Maya teared up. “Thank you. I promise I’ll pay you back one day.” According to the Chat, in the original timeline where I was locked in the psych ward, Maya was the only one who fought for me. She battled Oliver and Bella until they destroyed her, too. Even a stranger knew gratitude. My own son did not. Bella, seeing me ignore her, sneered. “By the way, Mrs. Sterling, Oliver is staying at our house now. He loves my mom’s cooking. He says it tastes like a real home.” I looked at Fiona. “Seeing you reminded me of something.” I smiled dangerously. “It’s time to settle some debts.”

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1 On my wedding day, I accidentally stumbled upon a video that seemed like it was designed to mock me. It showed a tearful eighteen-year-old girl saying, “What do I do? He rejected my confession. Will I ever see him again?” Cut to a twenty-five-year-old woman, beaming. “Don’t cry, silly! Not only will you see him again, but you just got your marriage license today! What’s meant to be will be!” I couldn’t help but smile as I watched. After all, my fiancé, Matthew Lloyd, and I had been childhood sweethearts for fifteen years, and we were celebrating our marriage today. As I went to type a congratulatory message, I hesitated. The video zoomed in on a collage of photos the woman had secretly taken of the same man, from eighteen to twenty-five. It ended with a shot of a marriage license. The man who had inspired such devotion, the guy the internet was rooting for, was my husband, Matthew Lloyd. … The video played on, the woman’s sweet voice filling my ears. “I’m sharing this video to tell girls who are crushing on someone: never give up! Eventually, he’ll love you back.” My hands shaking, I dragged the timeline back and stared at her eighteen-year-old face. Recognition slammed into me. This was Blair Lancaster. The girl who had been obsessed with Matthew for years, following him around like a lost puppy. She’d been invisible back then—plain, unremarkable. A far cry from who she was now. Love is like raising a flower. My love has nurtured me so well… I closed my eyes, forcing myself to stay calm. Then, I clicked into the comments. A comment posted just three minutes earlier, already at the top, caught my eye. You are the rose I cultivated with my own hands. The profile picture was the back of a man’s head. One I had taken. The truth crashed down on me. My mind went blank. Then, I heard the front door open. Matthew walked in carrying a cake, his handsome face as warm and familiar as always. “I knew you’d be waiting up for me. It’s our wedding night, after all.” “I got this for you on the way back from the office. Try it.” He moved to embrace me, like he always did. Instinctively, I took a step back, switching off my phone and hiding it behind me. My voice trembled. “You really went to the office?” Matthew froze, a flicker of something like frustration crossing his brow. “Where else would I have been?” “Everyone else gets pre-wedding jitters. How come you’re having them after we get married?” His casual tone made me doubt myself. Maybe I was overreacting. After all, Blair had tried to drive a wedge between us back then. As I stood there, lost in thought, Matthew pulled me down onto the sofa and spooned a bite of cake into my mouth. My head was spinning. Then, he laughed. “Oh, right. There’s some stuff I have to take care of at work tomorrow. Let’s wait on getting the marriage license, okay?” “We’ve been together for so long. A few more days won’t matter, will it?” Before the wedding, I’d suggested we get the license first, but he had brushed it off, saying he was too busy. Now, he was delaying it again. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was no hint of guilt, nothing to betray his words. My heart twisted. I nodded, unable to speak. While Matthew went to take a shower, I grabbed his phone. The password was still my birthday. The wallpaper was still a picture of me. So was his profile picture. I let out a small sigh of relief and clicked into his video apps. There was only one account. Not the one that had commented on Blair’s video. A hand reached around me, snatching the phone from my grasp. Matthew picked me up in his arms. “Stop checking my phone. Come see how good my stamina is instead.” I tried to tell myself that this was all just a coincidence, forcing a smile. “Okay…” Before I could finish the word, a ringtone shattered the moment. Matthew practically leaped out of my arms and answered the phone. Two seconds later, he was throwing on his clothes. “I have to go. There’s a problem at the office.” “Don’t wait up for me tonight. I’ll be back late. Be good.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and hurried out. Not long after he left, I saw a new comment from Blair under her video. Someone pretended to get a call from work just to see me. Guess who finally got the undivided attention she deserves tonight? My blood ran cold. I called Matthew. He didn’t answer. I tried again, and again. Finally, after a dozen calls, he picked up, his voice edged with irritation. “I was in a meeting. It was urgent.” “An urgent meeting? In bed, maybe?” I couldn’t stop the sarcasm. Matthew was silent for a moment, and then, there was a flash of anger. “Seraphina, what is wrong with you tonight?” “First you’re grilling me about work, then you’re checking my phone, and now you’re accusing me of cheating?” I bit down hard on my lip, forcing the words out. “Fine.” I hung up and drove to his office. Ignoring the blare of horns as I ran red lights, I finally arrived, and saw Matthew was, in fact, in his office. When he saw me, he sighed and tugged at his tie. “You actually came here?” “What is going on with you? Why are you so suspicious?” The relief I had felt just moments before was instantly replaced by ice when I saw his tie. I clenched my fists, my voice shaking. “You weren’t wearing a tie when you left the house.” A flicker of panic crossed his face, but he quickly recovered. “Oh. I keep a spare at the office.” We’d been friends for years. I knew the subtle tells. He was lying. I didn’t want to play games. I held up Blair’s video. “Explain. What is this?” Matthew’s pupils contracted. He hadn’t expected me to see it. Then, he frowned. “Why is Blair so obsessed with me?” He rose and started pacing, feigning annoyance. “She spent her whole life trying to ruin what we had. You know I hate her. How could you think I would marry her?” “Okay, I admit it. I lied. I ran into her a while back. She applied for a secretarial position. I turned her down.” “But then, her brain snapped, and she made up this whole fantasy.” “Honey, we just had our wedding. Why would she post something like this now, unless she was trying to cause trouble?” Before he could finish, the door opened. Blair waltzed in, looking sweet and innocent, holding a man’s jacket. “Matthew, you forgot this.” The office went silent, with only the video’s soundtrack echoing through the air. Matthew was the first to react. He grabbed Blair, his voice dangerously low. “That’s not my jacket. Stop making things up.” “Tell my wife what’s going on. Tell her about the video.” I watched as Blair’s eyes turned red. She seemed to resist, but she lowered her head to me. “Seraphina, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have posted the video. I just wanted to fulfill an old fantasy.” “It’s not real. It was all faked. I’m so sorry…” Before she could finish, I raised my hand to strike. But Matthew seized my wrist, his face darkening. “That’s enough. Don’t get violent—” Smack! I swung with my other hand, the slap echoing through the office. Matthew’s cheek was red. He stared at me, stunned. “Seraphina! I explained everything! Why won’t you trust me?” “There’s a limit to how much nonsense I’m willing to take!” Pain tightened my chest. I took a shaky breath, trying to stay calm, and threw a document at him. It was a certificate of marriage, obtained by my lawyer. “Explain this. I dare you.” “Matthew Lloyd. Marital status: not single. Spouse: Blair Lancaster.” His face turned sheet white. Afraid of what I might do next, he pulled me out of the office. Back home, he dropped to his knees, his eyes red-rimmed. “I’m sorry, Sera. I lied.” “But I’m telling the truth. Blair and I ran into each other a while ago. She applied to be my secretary.” “I didn’t want anything to do with her. But then she begged me to give her a chance.” “You know what she’s like. She didn’t do well in school, she never got a degree, she can’t find a decent job. And she only has her grandmother, who needs expensive medical care. I felt sorry for her, so I gave her a chance.” “After a while, I started to… waver. When she begged me for the tenth time to marry her, to fulfill her grandmother’s dying wish, I gave in.” “I thought, what harm could it do? I could marry her for a little while, let her be happy, and then divorce her. And then, I would tell you everything. I never imagined she would post that video! She said she would block you from seeing it.” “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have lied to you. But Sera, you were raised by your grandmother. You understand, don’t you?” By the end of his speech, my heart had gone numb. I wanted to laugh. I looked at him, a flicker of desperate hope still alive in his eyes, and a cold laugh escaped my lips. “I understand you? Who understands me?” “You also know I was raised by my grandmother. When I dropped everything to go abroad with you, my grandmother died alone, and I never got to say goodbye. You said you would give me a family.” “And now? Matthew, you’re spinning an affair to make yourself look good. It’s disgusting.” His face hardened. After a long pause, he rose, his voice flat with disappointment. “I can’t believe you’re like this. Blair has been waiting for me for so long, and I just wanted to make her dream come true.” “She’s been waiting for you? What about me?” I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. “When you couldn’t pay your rent abroad, who worked day and night to send you money?” “When you came back and needed capital, who sold her grandmother’s house to fund your business?” “How many times did I negotiate deals for you until I was throwing up blood? How many times was I almost assaulted?” “I didn’t want anything in return! I just wanted you to be happy, and to build a life with me!” “Enough!” Matthew’s face was a mask of anger. “All you ever talk about is money.” “Fine. I’ll pay you.” He pulled out his phone and transferred three million dollars to my account. With interest, down to the penny. It was the money I had scrounged together, my entire savings. Now, it was pocket change to him. There were so many things I wanted to say, but suddenly, I didn’t have the strength. Looking at his cold, unfamiliar face, I knew it was over. Seeing my silence, a mocking smile touched his lips. “All you care about is money, Seraphina. You have no right to judge me for having an affair.” “I never mistreated you after I made my fortune. I paid you back. I’m still paying Blair back, so I had to marry her. You’ve waited for me for so long. A little longer won’t kill you. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He reached out, trying to soothe me, but I recoiled. A wave of nausea washed over me. I ran to the bathroom, gagging, and heard his phone ring. “What? What happened to your grandmother? I’m coming now.” I heard the door slam. I flushed the toilet, sending all our happy memories spiraling into the drain. I washed my face and stood up. I opened my phone and messaged my lawyer, Julian Hayes: File for divorce. For a week, Matthew didn’t come home. Instead, I saw him flaunting his new romance on social media, posting picture after picture with Blair. Only, he never showed her face. Friends who had been at our wedding kept messaging, asking about the honeymoon. I didn’t reply. Instead, I posted a single line to my feed: Husband had an affair. Do not disturb. My phone exploded. Then, Matthew called, his voice rough. “Seraphina, are you out of your mind?” I laughed softly. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth?” He hung up. Then, my old high school principal called, his voice excited. “The alumni gala is tomorrow! Distinguished alumni can bring their spouses. I told Matthew about it a week ago, right?” I paused. “No.” “Oh. Well, he probably forgot. Be sure to come. It’ll be broadcast live.” I squeezed my phone, hard. He hadn’t forgotten. He just hadn’t intended to bring me. I agreed to attend. All week, I barely slept. My tears had dried up, and my heart had gone numb. So, when Matthew finally came home that night and started yelling at me, I was strangely calm. “Seraphina, are you trying to ruin me?” “Was it you who told Blair’s grandmother about our situation? Did you cause her to have a heart attack? Blair nearly killed herself because of you!” “Now, you’re going to come to the hospital and apologize!” He reached for me. I dodged him, my voice quiet. “Who are you taking to the alumni gala tomorrow?” Matthew hesitated, rubbing his temples. “You thought you could ruin my reputation by posting on social media? So why would I want to take you?” “Blair’s reputation was destroyed by you. I’m going to help her fix it.” “That’s not important right now. We need to go to the hospital—” “Why should I apologize to the woman you had an affair with?” Smack! The slap sent me crashing to the floor, pain shooting through my abdomen. Matthew reached for me, then stopped. A flicker of something flashed in his eyes, his voice turning cold. “Seraphina, watch your mouth!” “Besides, you’re the other woman. Blair and I are married!” That sentence seared my heart. I stood up, shaking. “You’re right. I’m the other woman.” I turned and walked out. Behind me, Matthew’s footsteps came to a halt. “Seraphina, if you walk out that door, we’re done!” His rage was a distant echo as I left, never once looking back. That night, he posted a picture of his marriage certificate with Blair: No affair here. Just fake news. Married. I switched off my phone and stared at Julian, the lawyer, his gaze steady and sure. “Everything’s ready, right?” He nodded, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure about this?” I forced a smile. “Yes. I have to do it.” The emptiness in my stomach mirrored the hollowness in my heart. Even the last tie to Matthew was gone. What else was there to hold on to? As the alumni gala began, all the cameras focused on the stage. The principal excitedly invited Matthew Lloyd to deliver a speech. After all, he was the school’s most successful graduate. I watched as he spoke, crediting all the achievements to Blair. The ones that I had bled and sweat for. But I didn’t feel anything. In fact, I wanted to laugh. Ignoring the principal’s confused expression and the sympathetic glances from our friends, I slowly started to clap. Matthew froze when he saw me, then quickly looked away. After his speech, Julian was invited to speak. He scanned the room, his gaze coming to rest on Matthew. “Before I start, I’d like to take care of a little business. I’m filing a lawsuit against Mr. Lloyd for fraud and misrepresentation.” The room went silent. Every eye turned to me. I rose, ignoring Matthew’s furious glare, and walked to the podium. I smiled faintly. “I’m Julian’s client, and the victim of Mr. Lloyd’s fraud. My name is Seraphina Hayes.”

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My fiancée’s first love came back to the country. With cancer. Ever since she found out, she’s been… distant. Lost in thought. I didn’t think much of it. There was no point in getting worked up over a dying man. But then he whispered one sentence to her: “I want to spend my last days with you.” And for that, my fiancée drugged me. Hypnotized me. “Three months, Thomas. Just give me three months.” “Forget me. After three months, I’ll be all yours again.” And just like that, the woman named Ava Johnston vanished from my memory. Later, she walked down the aisle in a white dress, married that man, and lived out three months of idyllic bliss before returning to me as promised. “Thomas, let’s get married.” I just stared at her, completely lost. “I’m sorry, who are you?” 1 “Ava, you have to try this one.” Inside the bridal boutique, I held up a gown I’d painstakingly chosen, certain it was the one for her. When my eyes met hers, I noticed they were rimmed with red. “What’s wrong, Ava?” I chuckled, gently stroking her hair. “Why the tears all of a sudden? Getting emotional thinking about the wedding?” Her voice trembled as she looked up at me, barely a whisper. “He’s back.” “Hmm?” I leaned in, not quite catching it. That’s when her phone screen tilted into my view, completely by accident. A familiar name burned into my retinas. Jacob Lin. Ava’s first love. I’d known about him for years, of course. But whenever his name came up, Ava was always so dismissive, as if he were a stranger she barely remembered. It had been, what, six or seven years since they broke up? That’s an eternity. Long enough to bury even the deepest feelings. I just never imagined his return would hit her this hard. The smile faded from my face, my voice becoming flat. “So? What if he’s back? Does that mean we stop trying on dresses? That we don’t get married?” Ava flinched, her voice strained. “No, Thomas, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s just… he said he has terminal cancer. He won’t live more than three months.” “I don’t mean anything by it,” she rushed to add. “It’s just sad, you know? Someone so full of life just… gone.” “Thomas, he’s in the past. There’s nothing between us anymore.” “Don’t overthink it.” But Ava, all I did was ask a simple question, and you look like you’ve just committed the crime of the century. The mood for dress shopping was shattered. We left in silence. The drive home was heavy, thick with unspoken words. Back at our apartment, Ava threw herself onto the sofa, her gaze unfocused, lost somewhere I couldn’t follow. I took a deep breath and knelt by her feet. “What else did he say to you?” A long time passed before she answered. So long I thought she hadn’t heard me. Then, her voice drifted across the room. “He wants me to be with him, at the end.” My hand, holding a glass of water, paused mid-air. I asked, trying to sound casual, “And you said yes?” “No.” She seemed to pull herself together, forcing a brittle smile. “Of course not. Who am I to him? Why would I agree to something like that?” A lie. She couldn’t even look at me. I closed my eyes, deciding not to call her on it. “You’re right not to. If anyone should be by his side, it’s his family, his friends.” Ava’s rebuttal was instant, automatic. “He doesn’t have any close friends. His parents died a couple of years ago. He’s always been—” She cut herself off. 2 Facing my gaze, which felt like it could see right through her, Ava scrambled for an excuse. She grabbed a jacket. “I just remembered, there’s something I need to check on at the lab.” She’d forgotten. She had specifically cleared her schedule today for the dress fitting, arranging everything at the lab beforehand. She didn’t need to go. Her heart was in chaos. I carried my glass to the balcony and watched her hurry away, saying nothing. People hold on to the past. I get it. Even if Ava’s reaction was more intense than I’d expected, I could tolerate it. After all, what kind of trouble could a dying man really cause? As for Ava, I would give her time to sort herself out. Being sentimental isn’t a fatal flaw. I tried to be understanding. Ava didn’t come home that night. When she finally returned, she acted as if nothing had happened. She threw her arms around me, her voice sweet and clingy. “I’m so exhausted, honey. You have no idea how draining that experiment was.” She didn’t mention him, and neither did I. It was one of those unspoken pacts adults make. She then offered to cook dinner for me. I took it as an apology for her behavior the day before and gladly accepted. At the dinner table, she brought up where she’d been. “Actually, I went to see Jacob last night.” “He’s changed so much. I barely recognized him from the person I remember.” “Thomas, we had something real, you know? A real connection.” “If we hadn’t been so young and reckless back then, we might never have broken up.” “Honestly, we were childhood sweethearts. Seeing him like this… I just can’t leave him high and dry.” She kept talking, and a strange thing happened. I knew I should be angry. But a heavy grogginess washed over me. My limbs felt like lead, and even speaking was an effort. A bitter realization dawned on me. She had done something to my food. I managed a weak, wry smile. “So you agreed?” To his three-month request? Ava’s hand drifted to a small box she’d brought back with her. She gave a soft, “Mmm.” My eyes fixed on it. “What’s that?” 3 Ava went silent. Her fingers traced the edges of the music box, her expression a storm of indecision. I asked her again what was in the box. She slowly lifted her head, the conflict in her eyes finally giving way to a soft apology. “Thomas, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to forget me for three months. After three months, we’ll go back to being us, the loving couple we’ve always been.” Forget her for three months? The horrifying truth clicked into place. I stared at the box. “Is that a hypnosis device?” “Yes. It’s the latest project from my lab. It can make you forget me for exactly three months.” The hesitation in Ava’s eyes was hardening into resolve. I knew her. Once she made a decision, she saw it through. I didn’t move. I didn’t try to run. A knot of grief tightened in my chest, a bitter sting rising in my nose. A wave of profound sadness crashed over me. “Since it’s a new prototype,” I asked, my voice thick with self-mockery, “aren’t you worried something could go wrong? What if… what if I forget you for longer than three months?” Ava, her hand poised to open the box, froze. The certainty in her eyes wavered, replaced again by doubt. But it was only for a second. Her resolve returned, and she continued opening the lid. “I have faith in my work. In three months, I will come back to you, and you will still love me!” Her words hung in the air as she threw the music box open, giving herself no chance to back down. A brilliant white light bloomed from within, accompanied by a strange, ethereal melody that assaulted my senses. The world began to swim, and Ava’s voice echoed in my ears, a soothing, hypnotic chant. “Thomas Song, I love you. I really, really love you. But Jacob is dying, and I have to be with him for this final journey.” “Thomas Song, forget me. Forget Ava. Your life has never included a person named Ava.” “10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 1…” Her voice grew fainter, more distant. I slumped onto the sofa, the last two words circling in my mind: Ava Johnston. But… who was Ava Johnston? 4 When I woke up, sunlight was streaming into the room. I ran a hand through my messy hair, confused by the blanket draped over me. Did I fall asleep on the sofa? Who covered me? Maybe one of my buddies crashed here? Just then, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Leo. He launched right in, his voice a chaotic buzz. “Thomas! Dude, you’re getting married tomorrow! I’m heading over in a bit to help decorate. Don’t you dare touch anything, you and your disaster-zone decorating skills would make the place look like a dumpster fire.” Huh? Married? I was completely lost. I checked the caller ID. Yep, definitely Leo. Sounded like him, too. Only he would insult my decorating abilities so creatively. But… since when was I getting married? “I’m getting married? What are you talking about?” “What?” Leo sounded even more shocked than I was. “Thomas, are you still half-asleep? You’re marrying Ava! You seriously don’t know?” Ava? Who the hell was Ava? I shot back immediately, “Don’t mess with me, man. I don’t know any Ava. I’ve been single forever!” “You’ve been dating for years! Are you messing with me? Look at the damn wall, dude! Your wedding photos are all over the place!” No way. I scrambled to my feet and looked around. There were no pictures anywhere. The walls were bare… wait. On the living room wall, there was a strange, blank rectangle, with faint traces of adhesive around the edges. It looked like a frame used to hang there, but it had been taken down. I tried to remember what I might have hung there, but drew a blank. I shrugged it off. “Leo, there are no wedding photos here. And who is Ava…?” A sudden, absurd thought hit me. “You didn’t set me up with a ghost, did you? After all we’ve been through, you’d do that to me?” “A ghost? I’ll show you a ghost! Stay put, I’m coming over to knock some sense into you!” 5 Leo stormed in, yelling that I deserved a punch in the face. But I honestly couldn’t remember anyone named Ava, or any wedding. He snatched my phone and pulled up my social media feed. “Eight out of every ten posts are about her! See for yourself!” I looked. Nothing. My most recent post was from three years ago: “Happy New Year.” Leo froze, scrolling furiously up and down, completely baffled. “Did you delete everything? Or did Ava? Did you two have a fight?” I threw my hands up. “I seriously don’t know her.” Leo studied my face, then quickly started a video call with this “Ava.” The call connected, revealing a sterile, but cozy, hospital room. The woman named Ava smiled calmly into the camera. “Leo, what’s up?” “Ava, what did you do to him? He’s acting crazy, says he doesn’t know you!” Leo shoved the phone in my face, forcing a confrontation. I looked at the woman on the screen. A complete stranger. No recognition at all. Her eyes flickered, studying me with a mix of probing curiosity and expectation. “Thomas, hello.” “Oh, hi. You must be Ava?” I said politely. She subtly relaxed, a flicker of relief crossing her face. She seemed pleased with my reaction. “I’m Ava. We were together, but you fell and hit your head at home and forgot about me. When you remember, I’ll come back to you.” “For now,” she continued, her gaze shifting slightly, as if inventing the story on the spot, “my brother has cancer, and I have to take care of him. I hope you don’t mind.” Her story sounded so rehearsed it made me suspicious. Who was this person, and why was she lying to me? Before I could ask, a man in the hospital bed behind her started coughing violently. Ava’s attention snapped to him. She gave me a quick wave and ended the call. Leo was completely lost. “What the hell does she mean? Like you forgetting her is no big deal? And that guy in the bed is her brother? Since when does she have a brother?” The man was bundled up, wearing a cap that obscured his face, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. I didn’t know him. So I didn’t care. “You guys have fried my brain. I’m done. Let’s go grab some wings.” “Hold on. Something’s not right with Ava,” Leo said, shaking his head. “I’m going to the hospital to check things out for you. You stay here.” And with that, he appointed himself chief detective and rushed off to the hospital, determined to get to the bottom of it. By the time he came back, I’d bought a mountain of snacks and was vegging out in front of the TV. Leo burst in, shouting, “Thomas, how can you just sit there and eat? Ava’s cheating on you! She’s at the hospital taking care of some guy named Jacob Lin! He’s not her brother!” I didn’t even pause, just stuffed another chip in my mouth. “Don’t know him. Not my problem. Not interested.” “She’s your fiancée! She’s about to check that guy out of the hospital, and they’re going to have a wedding and go on a honeymoon!” Leo’s face was dark with anger. He’d heard it all from the nurses. They were all touched by Ava’s devotion, praising her for sticking by her cancer-stricken boyfriend to fulfill his dying wish. A true saint, they called her. I thought about it for a second, then broke into a grin. “Look on the bright side. If she really was my future wife, this is great news, right? At least we didn’t actually get married.” “And if she was going to cheat on me anyway,” I added, “isn’t forgetting her the best thing that could’ve happened?” Leo stared at me, speechless. 6 Leo couldn’t argue with my logic, but he wasn’t ready to let it go. He went back to digging for more information on Ava. Just three days later, Ava and this Jacob Lin held their wedding. It was a simple ceremony in a small chapel. No family, no friends. Just the two of them, hand in hand, exchanging emotional vows. Leo showed me a video he’d secretly recorded, his anger simmering. “What is wrong with her? You, her actual fiancé, forget who she is, and she just turns around and marries someone else? What is she playing at?” “Probably just helping the guy fulfill a last wish,” I reasoned. “You said he has cancer, right? Marrying Ava must have been his dream.” Leo considered this, which only made him angrier. So he went digging again. This time, he came back with an update: Ava and Jacob were on a trip. Looked like a cross-country tour. They probably wouldn’t be back until they’d seen it all. And he was right. Leo couldn’t find a trace of Ava after that. He decided he’d just have to wait for her to come back to give her a piece of his mind. I was perfectly happy with that. At least Leo would finally stop bugging me. For the next three months, I slipped back into my blissful single life. I couldn’t have been happier. Except… sometimes, in the dead of night, I’d wake from a dream and my arm would reach for the empty space beside me. It would find nothing, but the gesture felt so natural, as if someone was supposed to be there. I’d jolt awake, staring at the empty side of the bed, a hollow ache in my chest, my eyes surprisingly damp. It was the strangest feeling. Could it be… The place was haunted! Yeah, that had to be it. Definitely haunted. I started crashing at Leo’s place after that. On the last day of the third month, I went back to my apartment to grab some things and found a package at the door. I opened it. Inside were photos. Piles and piles of them. Wedding photos, landscape shots, selfies, posed pictures. They all had one thing in common: only two people appeared in them. Ava and Jacob. Their happiness radiated from every print. Beneath the stack of photos was a letter. I opened it. It was from Jacob, addressed to me. Thomas Song, I don’t know how Ava convinced you to be so understanding, but your generosity has moved me deeply. I’m dying. These photos are the last remnants of my time on earth. I’m sending them to you, hoping you can feel my joy and my sorrow, and that you’ll keep them safe for me. I’m back in the hospital now, waiting for the end. Ava is already on her way home to you. She said she had to be back today. I couldn’t stop her. I suppose I lost in the end. 7 The letter was long and rambling. It gave me a headache. What a psycho. I tossed the photos and the letter into a corner. I’d deal with them tomorrow. At that exact moment, the front door opened. The woman herself, Ava, burst in, clutching a music box, her face slick with sweat. I scowled. “What are you doing? This is my home.” “Thomas, I made it back! In one more minute, you’ll remember me!” She sat down without being invited, placing the music box on the table in front of me. “What is that thing? I’m calling the cops!” I snapped, my instincts screaming that the box was dangerous. I felt a visceral urge to stay away from it. Ava ignored me, her eyes glued to her watch. Just as I was about to dial, she flipped the lid of the music box open. Instantly, a flash of white light and a strange melody flooded my senses, making me drowsy. Ava smiled, her voice full of affection. “Thomas, I’m back. I’m still your fiancée. Let’s pick a date and get married.” “I’ve been thinking about you constantly these past few months. I knew you’d never forgive me if you knew the truth, which is why I had to resort to this… making you forget.” “Now, I’m going to make you remember me, but you’ll forget the unpleasantness of these last three months. For you, these three months never happened…” Her voice was a soft, gentle murmur. As she began her countdown, I grew heavier, my consciousness fading. “[10… 9… 8… 7… 3… 2… 1]” On the final count, my eyes snapped open. I stared at the anxious, hopeful face in front of me. This was so weird. She didn’t seem to think so. Her gaze was deep, filled with a tenderness that could melt any man’s heart. She whispered my name. “Thomas, you’re awake. I love you!” She buried her head in my chest, clinging to me as if terrified of losing me, her words spilling out in a rush. “It’s okay, it’s all over now. Let’s get married!” I blinked, confused and repulsed. I pushed her away and asked, very seriously, “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

My usually stingy best friend volunteered to buy water for the prestigious, heatstroke-stricken heir to the Sterling empire. That’s when I knew she had been reborn, too. In our past life, we took the SATs together and both scored in the top 1% nationwide. We both wanted to go to Harvard or Yale, but admission slots were limited. Not wanting to hurt our friendship, we delayed submitting our applications. On the final day of college applications, just as I was about to submit mine, I encountered Julian Sterling, the heir to a massive business empire, suffering from heatstroke. I not only bought him premium water but also held an umbrella over him until he woke up. By the time Julian woke up, I had missed the application deadline. My best friend, submitting hers on time, was accepted into Harvard. I missed my chance at college entirely. But Julian was moved by my act of kindness and proposed to me. I ended up marrying into extreme wealth, becoming a socialite. Meanwhile, my best friend, though she got into Harvard, was crushed by the academic pressure. Seeing me spend endless money every day, she went mad with jealousy and stabbed me to death at a reunion. When I opened my eyes again, we were both back on the day Julian got heatstroke. Chapter 1 “Boss, give me the most expensive bottle of water you have!” In the campus convenience store, someone shoved me from behind. I snapped my eyes open. Clutching the water, Sarah glared at me warily. She dashed out of the store, heading straight for the bench nearby. Sitting there, pale and sweating, was Julian Sterling, the heir to the Sterling dynasty. Sarah placed the water beside him and used tissues to carefully wipe his sweat. Seeing her urgency, I was certain: she had been reborn too. Sure enough. Sarah turned around, blocking my view of Julian. “Chloe, hurry up and go to the computer lab to submit your applications. I’ll take care of Mr. Sterling. Don’t stand here being a nuisance!” I looked at her coldly. “You’re overthinking it. I wasn’t planning on taking care of him anyway.” Sarah clearly didn’t believe me. She scoffed. “Pfft, who’d believe that! In our last life, it was because…” She stopped abruptly, but I knew what she meant. In our last life, because I took care of Julian, he was touched and proposed. I married into wealth; Sarah went to Harvard. But after graduation, she became a miserable corporate slave while I lived in luxury. At our reunion, consumed by jealousy, she killed me. I didn’t expect both of us to be reborn. The students around us knew Sarah was cheap. They whispered: “Sarah is usually so stingy. Knowing he’s the Sterling heir, she actually bought a $5 bottle of water.” “If he were just an average guy, she wouldn’t even look at him. What a gold digger!” Hearing this, Sarah argued back, neck stiff: “Stop talking nonsense! I just like helping people! What do you know!” “Chloe, I don’t want the spot at Harvard anymore. I’m giving it to you!” Everyone was shocked. Sarah strutted over to me, chin high. “So what if it’s Harvard? In this society, even with a top degree, you’re just working like a dog for someone else!” “For a woman, the best destination is marrying a good man.” She glanced at me coldly. “But you’ve lost your chance. Don’t even dream about it in this life!” I nodded, too lazy to argue, and went with the others to submit my applications. Since she wanted to marry into that family so badly, I’d gladly give her the chance. Ten minutes later, we finished our applications. Passing by Sarah and Julian again, I saw Julian slowly waking up. Sarah immediately threw herself at him, holding his hand with exaggerated concern. “Mr. Sterling, are you feeling better? Should I call an ambulance?” Meeting her intense gaze, Julian was clearly startled. She placed her hand on his forehead, asking worriedly, “Does anything else hurt?” Julian replied, “I’m fine. Thank you. Were you taking care of me?” Sarah smiled shyly. “Yes. I’ll stay with you a bit longer, just in case.” Just then, a Maybach pulled up to the school gate. The Sterling family butler hurried over. Seeing his butler, Julian said, “Sarah, thank you for today. Let me treat you to dinner.” Sarah’s eyes lit up with excitement. She nodded repeatedly. As she left, she shot me a contemptuous look. “Chloe, you’re destined to be a wage slave for life. But me? I’m marrying into billions!” Watching her walk away, I smirked. Sarah, do you really think ordinary people like us can just marry into that kind of wealth? Chapter 2 A few days later, at our graduation party, Sarah arrived late. She came from a poor rural background and usually looked plain. But today, she was covered in luxury logos from head to toe. The scent of money practically radiated off her. She blinded everyone the moment she walked in. Sarah flipped her hair and walked straight to me. As soon as she sat down, she covered her nose, frowning in disgust. “What is this? I’m allergic to cheap wine. Take it away! Waiter, bring your most expensive vintage! Stop serving this garbage!” Then she shouted, “Everything tonight is on me! Eat whatever you want!” The classmates stared in disbelief. Normally, Sarah was incredibly frugal. It wasn’t her fault; her family was poor, sometimes splitting a single bun for two meals. She had never even tasted red wine before, let alone offered to pay for everyone. “Sarah, are you…” Classmates looked at her skeptically. Seeing this, Sarah smugly pulled a black card from her bag and waved it. “I’m with Julian Sterling now.” The room exploded! “Sarah, you’re dating the Sterling heir?!” Sarah showed off her fresh manicure, nodding triumphantly, grinning ear to ear. “Yes. He chased me for days. I hesitated at first, but finally agreed.” Some classmates immediately started sucking up to her. Sarah glanced at me with disdain. “Chloe, why do you still look so poor? High school is over, and you haven’t even bought a decent outfit? Embarrassing.” “But I guess with your nerd brain, this is your life. Destined to be a nobody.” As soon as she finished, someone defended me. “Sarah, that’s not fair. Chloe got into Harvard.” Sarah scoffed. “So what if she got into Harvard? In the end, she’ll just get married, have kids, and work for someone else, barely making any money.” “Chloe, if you make me happy, after I marry into the family, maybe I’ll toss you a bone.” I just smiled faintly. Some classmates couldn’t stand it and whispered among themselves. “She’s dreaming! Why would the Sterling heir marry her? She doesn’t know her place.” “It’s probably just a fling before his arranged marriage. She thinks she’s special.” “Exactly! He’s not blind. Why would he pick her?” But only I knew… Sarah really would marry Julian. For the next few days, Sarah spammed her social media. She was with Julian every day, traveling the world, living the high life early. She sent me countless videos showing off. I didn’t open a single one. I had lived through it all in my past life. Chapter 3 Soon, I received my acceptance letter from Harvard. Sarah was fully immersed in her rich wife lifestyle. Students accepted into Ivy Leagues were being interviewed by the media today. Unexpectedly, Sarah showed up too. She was dressed to the nines in a white designer dress, makeup flawless. Classmates complained, “Sarah, what are you doing? This is for the Ivy League admits. Are you here to steal the spotlight?” Originally, even if Sarah didn’t get into Harvard, she could have gone to a top state school. But she voluntarily gave it up. Our teacher tried to persuade her, “A degree is a stepping stone. You’ll regret not going to college…” Hearing this, Sarah looked at the camera fearlessly and sneered at everyone: “I have something important today. So what if you got into Harvard? When you graduate, you’ll only be qualified to be my maid!” There were many reporters, and it was a live broadcast. Netizens watching the stream went wild. Comments flooded in calling her delusional and arrogant. Sarah didn’t care. She thought they were just jealous. Only I knew why she dressed up. In our last life, today was the day Julian proposed to me. The principal couldn’t take it anymore and stepped up to scold her. “Sarah! This is a live broadcast with reporters. How can you say such things as a student? Leave now!” Before he finished, Sarah shoved him aside impatiently. “You get out! Don’t block my way!” The principal turned red with rage, chest heaving. Just as security was about to drag her away… A familiar Maybach pulled up to the school gate. Sarah smoothed her dress and sneered at the camera: “Forget Harvard. Today you’re lucky to witness my big moment. Record this well; it’s something you can brag about seeing for the rest of your lives!” Julian stepped out of the car. He wore a sharp black suit and held a bouquet of flowers, walking toward Sarah. Reporters turned their cameras to the couple. Everyone’s eyes widened, confused. Seeing their shock, Sarah lifted her chin arrogantly. “I told you I was marrying into billions. Didn’t believe me? Face it! The Sterling heir is proposing to me! Open your dog eyes and watch! This is a glory you’ll never achieve!” The next second, Julian knelt and presented a ring. “Darling, will you marry me?” Sarah wept tears of joy. “Yes! Of course!” They embraced. Sarah showed off the ring, the diamond the size of a pigeon egg, to the camera. “See this? Just this ring is enough to feed you ordinary people for a lifetime!” “Harvard? I’m the Sterling matriarch now. You’ll all be working for me!” Sarah scoffed, face full of triumph. She didn’t know the truth about her marriage was about to be revealed… Suddenly, Julian’s expression changed. He grabbed Sarah’s wrist violently. “Where is it…” Chapter 4 “Where is the red string bracelet on your wrist?!” Sarah was startled. Panic flashed across her face as she stammered: “I… I just thought it didn’t match my dress today, so I took it off.” Julian’s eyes turned red with rage. He roared, “Where is the red string?! Didn’t I tell you to always wear it?!” Sarah turned pale with fright, pointing to her bag. “It’s in the bag! I’ll put it on right now!” Julian’s expression softened only after hearing this. He carefully put the red string bracelet on Sarah’s wrist. “I kowtowed every step up the mountain to the temple to get this, just to bless our love for a lifetime,” Julian said deeply. In my past life, he said the exact same thing to me. The teachers, students, and reporters looked at each other. They came to interview Harvard admits. They ended up witnessing the Sterling heir’s proposal. Sarah smugly flaunted her massive diamond ring at me. “Chloe, see? So what if you got into Harvard? As long as Julian loves me, I get everything. Cars, mansions, designer bags.” “And you? You’ll study bitterly for years, only to work for someone else, exhausted for pennies, never rising above your station.” I smiled and asked, “Have you met Julian’s family yet?” Sarah’s face changed. “None of your business. Stop trying to stir up trouble. We’re getting married soon, he’ll definitely take me to see them. Then I’ll be the Young Mrs. Sterling, and you won’t even be fit to carry my shoes.” I chuckled and nodded. So she hadn’t met them yet. But even if she did, an idiot like Sarah wouldn’t notice anything wrong. “Chloe, we were best friends after all. You have to be my bridesmaid.” “In the future, you’ll only marry a wage slave like yourself. You’ll never have a wedding this grand. Being my bridesmaid is the luckiest thing that’ll ever happen to you.” I sneered. “Lucky? Do you really think you’re marrying a good man?” Wait until you actually enter the Sterling household. That’s when the nightmare begins.

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When we graduated college, Julian and I had one last hookup—a breakup fling. Afterward, he skillfully handed me a cigarette, teasing, “In the future, the woman I marry definitely won’t be the type to smoke after sex.” My throat tightened. I asked him why. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and smiled. “Chloe, I like them innocent.” I fell silent. After that night, I cut off all contact. Five years later, he became my new CEO. To avoid the awkwardness, I proactively handed in my resignation, only to be cornered by him in his office. “It’s been five years,” he murmured, pressing me against the desk. “One more time for old times’ sake?” I lowered my eyes, my voice steady. “No thanks. I have to pick up my kid from school.” Chapter 1 The air in the office instantly solidified. Julian froze. I tried to push myself off his lap, but his grip on my waist tightened, pinning me in place. The burning heat in his eyes cooled rapidly, replaced by a crack in his usually composed mask. He gritted his teeth. “How old is the child?” I stayed silent for a moment before whispering, “Three.” Three years old. Not four. And we had been broken up for five years. The math didn’t add up. This child had nothing to do with him. Clearly, Julian realized this too. I tried to stand up again. This time, the large hand around my waist let go. As I reached the door, his voice cut through the silence, laced with suspicion. “I recall your HR file says ‘Single.’” I paused, steadied my breathing, and turned back with a calm expression. “We just got the marriage license recently.” “Just got the license, but the kid is three?” I nodded, my face a mask of坦 honesty. “Yes. We had the baby out of wedlock.” Julian didn’t respond. His sharp gaze swept over the cheap ring on my finger, and he let out a scoff of disbelief. I didn’t feel embarrassed. I held up my hand, displaying the ring proudly, almost shoving it in his face. Sensing his temper about to flair, I quickly made my escape. Back home that night, I let out a heavy sigh. Sometimes, a lie is the most efficient way to solve a messy problem. I bought the ring yesterday at a dollar store. Cheap, effective. I figured it was enough to kill whatever lingering nostalgia Julian might have had for me. Sure enough, my resignation was approved the very next day. The HR director personally came to notify me. “Hand over your projects within the week, and you’re free to go.” Normally, resignation takes two weeks to a month. Mine took days. It was obvious whose order this was. I nodded and began transferring my files to the intern. The new intern, Bella, was sweet and enthusiastic. Or at least, she was when I was buying her coffee and breakfast. Near the end of the day, Bella looked at me with puppy dog eyes. “Chloe, can I leave a little early? My boyfriend is taking me out to dinner.” I hesitated. It wasn’t that I wanted to be mean, but I also needed to leave early to pick up my daughter. Seeing my silence, she put her hands together in a pleading gesture. I laughed, relenting. “Fine, go ahead.” She thanked me profusely and started packing. “My boyfriend is coming up to get me.” “He works in the building?” I asked, surprised. Bella looked mysterious. “No, he’s…” Before she could finish, a deep, magnetic voice interrupted from the doorway. “Ready to go?” Chapter 2 My body went rigid. If it were any other voice, I might have looked up out of curiosity. But this voice… it had haunted my nightmares for the past five years. In the dark nights where I relied on melatonin to sleep, Julian’s voice would echo in my mind. “Chloe, you’re too good. I’m going to corrupt you.” “Chloe, try it. Girls who smoke look cool. I want to see a different side of you.” Under his coaxing, I fell. I learned. Starting sophomore year, I went from one of Julian’s many admirers to his hookup buddy. Eventually, I beat out the sorority queens and became his girlfriend for three years. The day he accepted my confession, the weather was terrible. The wind was howling. He had just dropped off a senior girl back at her dorm. His car was idling downstairs. His hand, elegant and long-fingered, hung out the window, holding a cigarette. I wrapped my coat tighter, went downstairs, and knocked on his window. relying on the tiny bit of special treatment he showed me, I confessed. In that moment, the wind seemed to stop. It felt like a movie paused on a single frame. I waited for his answer. Julian turned to look at me, brought the cigarette to his lips, his dark eyes bottomless yet fatally attractive. Like I was possessed, I leaned in and took the cigarette from his mouth with my own. My lips brushed his fingers. He didn’t pull away. His playful expression shifted to acquiescence. He only said one thing: “The good girl isn’t so good anymore.” At the time, I was drowning in love. I didn’t understand the underlying meaning of those words. It wasn’t until graduation day, the last time we went to a hotel, the last time we met. After the passion subsided, he skillfully handed me a cigarette. “In the future, the woman I marry definitely won’t be the type to smoke after sex.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and asked him why. Julian smiled, smoke swirling around his fingers. His tone was serious. “Chloe, I like them innocent.” Tears spun in my eyes, and I forgot how to breathe. Innocent. He said he liked them innocent. But once, he complained that I was too pure, too well-behaved, that he didn’t know where to start. Years later, I finally understood. Because I wasn’t “good” anymore, I was automatically categorized into the “fun for now, but not for keeps” bin. Chapter 3 I pulled myself out of the memory, my face returning to a neutral mask. Bella turned excitedly, grabbing her bag and trotting over to him. Then she stopped and looked back at me. “Chloe, didn’t you say you had to pick up your daughter? We can give you a ride.” Before I could refuse, Julian walked over, grabbed my bag from the desk, and turned toward the elevators without a word. He didn’t give me a chance to say no. The atmosphere in the car was suffocating. Only Bella chirped occasionally. Julian tapped the steering wheel lazily, giving her short answers, but his gaze kept flicking to me in the rearview mirror. Maybe sensing the awkwardness, Bella tried to make conversation. “Chloe, when you work late, does your husband usually pick up the kid?” Hearing the word “husband,” I froze for a split second. I shook my head, making up an excuse. “He works out of town. He’s not back often.” She nodded, then her eyes landed on the ring I bought at the dollar store. “Is that your wedding ring? It looks a bit… tarnished.” “It looks like one of those cheap ones you get online for ten bucks.” “Oh! I didn’t mean it like that, please don’t misunderstand.” Bella realized she had been rude and turned to apologize. But I caught the flicker of disdain in her eyes, a sense of superiority. Right. Compared to her Hermès, my canvas tote was trash. Before I could speak, a laugh cut through the air. Julian reached over and patted her head, smiling dotingly. “It’s fine. You didn’t say anything wrong. No need to apologize.” Then, he looked at me through the mirror. It sounded like casual chatter, but I knew it was meant for me. “Poor people care too much about face. If you’re too blunt, Bella, you might get on people’s bad side at work.” He was talking to Bella, but the words were a slap to my face. A seemingly careless comment, defending her while warning me. I pretended not to hear and looked out the window. In the three years I was with Julian, I heard similar things countless times. They said I wasn’t good enough for him. I admit, the gap between us was massive. My family wasn’t poor, just middle class. But the Sterling family was old money—wealth and power combined. When we first got together, Julian told me clearly: “Chloe, you can be my girlfriend, but you’ll never be my wife.” I knew. I always knew. I tried to guard my heart, never crossing the line. But when we were in love, I wavered. I thought, maybe if I try hard enough. Maybe if I fight for it. What if I succeeded? So, near graduation, I asked him to meet. He picked me up early. The car stopped in a quiet corner of the campus. The driver got out to give us privacy. I sat in the passenger seat, the dappled sunlight through the trees stinging my eyes. An hour later, Julian leaned back, his white shirt slightly damp with sweat. The window was half open, cold wind rushing in, dispersing his breath. I looked at him and finally asked the question. “Julian, do you love me?” More than asking if he would marry me, I just wanted to know if he had ever loved me. He looked at me, the playfulness in his eyes replaced by a rare seriousness. “We’re graduating soon.” In that instant, I understood. We’re graduating, so it’s time to break up. Chapter 4 The car stopped in front of the kindergarten. I pushed the door open. My daughter, standing at the gate holding her teacher’s hand, waved happily when she saw me. I rushed over, thanked the teacher, and looked down at my little girl. “Sorry, Mommy is late today.” “Wait long?” My daughter looked up and pointed a small finger. “Was it because of that uncle?” I was startled and looked back. Julian was standing behind me. His nonchalant expression was gone, replaced by intensity. And… a trace of hidden joy? I froze, instinctively tightening my grip on my daughter’s hand. He walked over, slowly squatting down in front of her, studying her cute face. Julian’s usually cold voice softened. “How old are you? What’s your name?” I didn’t stop him. We were together for three years; I knew him well enough. If he didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe my lie. I looked at my daughter tenderly and gave her hand a squeeze—our secret signal. My smart girl understood immediately. “I’m Lily. I’m three years old.” Exhale. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Julian looked at the girl who shared 70% of his features. The joy of fatherhood didn’t even have time to fully form before her words dumped a bucket of ice water on him. The words caught in his throat. Lily was born premature, and because I was malnourished during the pregnancy, she was smaller than her peers. For a toddler, it’s hard to tell the difference between three and four. After breaking up with Julian, I blocked him on everything. He never tried to reach out. We were like two intersecting lines—after a brief entanglement, we drifted further apart. Living in the same city for five years, I had fantasized about running into him at a coffee shop or a red light. But it never happened. We operated in different orbits. Even under the same sky, we were worlds apart. Back home that night, Lily tugged at my shirt, looking confused. “Mommy, I’m four. Why did we lie?” Why indeed? Maybe to avoid trouble. Shortly after the last time I saw him, I found out I was pregnant. I thought about abortion. But lying on the operating table, I hesitated. I admit, I was unwilling to let go. I thought, even if we couldn’t be together, having a child that connected us would be enough. So I gave birth alone. But the moment I held that tiny pink bundle, my mindset shifted. I was glad I kept her. She was my child. She didn’t belong to anyone else. She deserved to see the world. … After putting Lily to bed, I got a call from HR notifying me not to come in tomorrow. I frowned. “Whose order is this?” The person on the other end hesitated and didn’t answer. I didn’t press. Leaving a day early or late made no difference to me.

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I’m what you’d call a “Chatterbox Yandere.” A Stage-5 Clinger with a motor mouth. After school let out for the summer, I screamed “Mom!” about three hundred times a day. She finally snapped. She personally drove me six hundred miles across state lines, tricked me into getting out of the car, and dumped me. “Actually, sweetie, you have a childhood fiancé we arranged for you. Go harass him instead.” I turned around, and a face of absolute, icy perfection appeared before me. My possessiveness spiked instantly. I started haunting him like a poltergeist, clinging to him 24/7. “Location drop! Send it now!!! (Rage)” “Who were you texting? Why did you leave me on read for thirty minutes? (Interrogation)” “Who was that bitch kissing you in my dream last night? (Dark aura)” “Explain yourself! Is it that hard to say a single word? Huh? (Suffocating)” The butler looked at the boy, who looked like he wanted to un-alive himself, and whispered weakly: “Miss… our Young Master is mute.” 1 My dad is a possessive psycho. My mom is a ray of sunshine. They combined their DNA and created me: a obsessive compulsive yapper. Growing up, everyone around me lived in my shadow. My dad ran multiple psych evals on me. Only after confirming I was “all bark, no bite” did he cancel the reservation at the asylum. Junior year summer break. My bestie said goodbye with tears in her eyes, then sprinted away like Usain Bolt. I had no one to talk to, so I stuck to my mom like glue. Why? Because my dad has hearing loss. He takes out his hearing aids and literally ghosts me while sitting in the same room. One night, I had a nightmare. I knocked on their bedroom door, looking like the girl from The Ring. They took forever to open it. My dad didn’t even hide his annoyance, his voice rasping. “Jade, what do you want now?” I pushed past him, staring at my mom with the eyes of a Victorian widow. “Mom, why didn’t you say goodnight?” “What were you guys doing? Why did it take five minutes to open the door?” “Why was the door locked? We are a family! Explain!” “Mom, I dreamed you had a second baby and threw me in the trash. You wouldn’t do that, right? Hmm?” “Why aren’t you answering? Speak to me!” My mom closed her eyes, grinding her teeth. “Do you think I’d have another kid just to punish myself? One of you is already a life sentence!” I immediately beamed, climbing into bed to cuddle her. “Mommy, I knew you loved me most. Can you tell me the story about the dream you had when you were pregnant with me again?” My dad’s face went cold. He reached out to drag me off the bed, but Mom stopped him. They exchanged a look. My dad actually stopped, closed the door, and left. He didn’t even look mad; he looked… pleased? I was too immersed in the joy of being Mommy’s Favorite to overthink it. So when she suggested a “girls’ road trip,” I agreed without hesitation. The next day, I passed out as soon as I got in the car. Motion sickness is my only weakness; it shuts me up. They looked suspiciously happy. My dad even gave me a rare smile. I slept, woke up, slept again. I don’t know how much time passed before I was physically hauled out of the car. “We’re here.” The car was parked in front of a low-key, old-money estate that screamed generational wealth. Suitcase shoved into my hand. Dad back in driver’s seat. Doors locked. Engine revved. I snapped awake just as the car peeled out of the driveway. Only my mom’s voice drifted back on the wind: “Baby, you actually have an arranged marriage pact with this family! Go bother your future husband! We’ll pick you up when school starts!” My face darkened instantly. They dared to trick me? “Miss Sterling.” A respectful, middle-aged voice called out. I turned my head. My gloomy, murderous eyes instantly turned into heart emojis. I take it back. Mom is a real one. Standing there was a boy who looked like he walked out of a K-drama. Red lips, pale skin, tall and slender like bamboo. He lowered his eyes coldly, showing zero curiosity about his sudden fiancée. The butler in the sharp suit next to him was enthusiastic, though. “Miss Sterling, this is our Young Master. You—” I rushed forward like a hurricane, vibrating with excitement. “Oh my god, I knew it. One look and I know you’re my future husband!” “What’s your name?” “Hmm? Why aren’t you talking? Are you shy?” “Fine, I’ll just call you Hubby-Wubby.” Meeting his stiff, dead-inside gaze, I had an epiphany. “Right, I shouldn’t be so forward. I need parental approval. Where are your parents? Take me to pay my respects.” The butler’s face dropped. The boy stopped looking at me, pursed his lips, and turned to walk away. 2 I met Grandpa Silas—the owner of the estate—and learned the boy’s name was Silas. His parents died in an accident when he was six. The PTSD made him go mute. He hasn’t spoken a word since. “Your grandfather and I were war buddies,” Grandpa Silas explained. “We made a pact as a joke back then. Obviously, no one is forcing you. We just wanted you two to be friends.” He looked at my relieved expression and sighed heavily. “Silas has had a hard life. No dad, no mom, mocked for being mute… I don’t know how many years I have left. Jade, if you aren’t willing…” I waved my hand, already considering Silas my property. “Who said I’m not willing? Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’m loyal to a fault. This Hubby is mine!” Thank god he’s not deaf. If he was like my dad, how would I survive? Grandpa Silas grinned so hard his dentures almost slipped. We chatted for two hours. It was like soulmates meeting across time. Eventually, the butler mentioned it was getting dark. I reluctantly went to my guest room. Right next to Silas’s room. I knocked. He didn’t open. “Hubby? Open up. Don’t hide in there being silent. I know you’re awake.” “Aren’t you curious about your fiancée? Don’t you want to know if I like Mom or Dad more? My GPA? If I’ve ever received a love letter? My favorite anime? If I like sunny days or rain? The color of my pajamas? My thread count?” He didn’t respond for a full hour. But I talked myself into a great mood and went to sleep satisfied. Finally! Someone who listens to me for an hour without interrupting! The next morning, Silas was eating breakfast. I scooted over. “Yo, you like wontons? Crazy coincidence. There’s a shop near my school that sells the best wontons. The line is insane. I’ll take you there. Speaking of lines, there’s a supermarket sale… oh, by the way, what color are your boxers?” Cough, cough! The butler, who was smiling like a proud auntie, choked on air. Silas finally put down his spoon. His exquisite brows furrowed. His entire body screamed: GET AWAY FROM ME. But after living with my dad’s resting bitch face for 17 years, my skin is thicker than a bank vault. I turned to the butler. The butler cleared his throat and whispered: “Black.” Silas shot up from his chair, his eyes filled with disbelief and humiliation. “Young Master, the Master said to inform Miss Jade of anything she is interested in. Detailed information.” Silas turned cold and stormed off. I chased him. “We should add each other on Snapchat. Or WeChat. Speaking of WeChat, isn’t the ‘Press to Hold’ voice note feature so aggressive? Hahahaha…” SLAM. His bedroom door nearly took my nose off. I rubbed my face and yelled downstairs. “Uncle Butler! Speaking of boxers, I forgot to ask about the size. Does he—” The door opened again. With a face red as a tomato, Silas shoved a phone into my face. QR code. Add friend. I grinned. Gotcha. 3 From then on, wherever he went, I was the yapping tail behind him. Silas went from ignoring me to being annoyed, and finally, to resigning himself to his fate. I mapped out his incredibly boring routine. Breakfast -> Room. Lunch -> Room. Water plants -> Room. Currently, I was staring at him watering the hydrangeas. His movements were fluid and graceful. Silas glanced at me, confused. He seemed to be asking why I was so quiet today. I was suddenly moved. Tears welled up. Sob. Life really is different depending on who you’re with. Grandpa Silas and the butler walked by at that moment. Grandpa slammed his cane down and glared at Silas. “Are you bullying Jade again?” Silas: “…” He pursed his lips, accepting the blame silently. I stopped Grandpa. “It’s not him. It’s just… I’m too emotional. My parents think I’m annoying. Only Silas listens quietly. He never interrupts. Meeting him is my blessing. I’ll treat him well forever!” Silence fell over the garden. I wiped my eyes, unaware of the awkward atmosphere, and seamlessly pivoted. “By the way, Grandpa, where have you been? Busy? Why didn’t you reply to my text? Are you free to chat tonight? I heard you like fishing. I know a spot. Speaking of fish…” Grandpa Silas and the butler exchanged a panicked look, laughed nervously, pretended a fake alarm went off on their watch, and bolted. Sigh. True listeners are hard to find. At least I found the one who understands me. I turned back to look at Silas. He had his back to me, watering the plants. But his spine was stiff, and the tips of his ears were burning red. That night, after sending Silas my 1,000th message of the day, I got sleepy. Just as I was passing out, my best friend Ginger FaceTimed me. She’s the only person who can tolerate me (barely). “Something’s wrong, Jade. You used to send me 500 texts a day. Why has it been radio silence lately?” She squinted at my guilty face on the screen. “Oh my god. You’re seeing someone behind my back?” “Is he better than me? Can he handle ten years of your non-stop harassment?” “Better not let me catch him, or I’ll chop him into confetti.” Her accusations were getting wild, so I explained the situation. We talked until midnight. She came to a sour conclusion: Silas is just tolerating you. He’s suffering in silence. Literally. “Impossible,” I said. “We are soulmates!” That night, I had a nightmare. In the dream, Silas was hooking up with some random woman. I tried to stop him, and he looked at me coldly and said one word: Leave. I woke up sweating. My possessiveness hit me like a truck. I didn’t even put on slippers. I marched downstairs with a dark cloud over my head, grabbed Silas by the collar while he was eating oatmeal. In his shocked eyes, I exploded: “Report to me! Send your location!!! (Rage)” “Who were you texting? Why didn’t you reply for 30 minutes? (Interrogation)” “Who was that bitch kissing you in my dream? (Darkness)” “Explain! Is it hard to speak? Huh? (Suffocation)” The butler whispered in my ear, “Miss… he’s mute.” I froze. I loosened my grip and patted his collar. “Oh. Don’t be scared, baby. I was possessed by a demon just now. I didn’t mean to yell. I just like you too much. You understand, right? (Puppy eyes)” Silas slapped my hand away coldly and typed on his phone. My phone pinged. 【I have no obligation to report to you.】 My fingernails dug into my palm. I looked up, smiling creepily. “Great. I hope you don’t regret that.” 4 Silas checked his phone for the tenth time. Usually, by now, he’d have hundreds of unread notifications. But today? Nothing. Not a single ping from morning til night. Silas thought coldly: This is how it should be. But a strange irritation kept bubbling up in his chest. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. He quickly grabbed a book, checking the mirror to make sure his frown was relaxing. He didn’t realize he was relieved. But it wasn’t the familiar, aggressive knocking. It was the butler talking to a maid. “Miss Jade hasn’t come out all day?” “No. And she looked scary when she went in. She had a fruit knife…” Silas’s heart stopped. He recalled her last words: I hope you don’t regret that. He bolted upright, threw the door open, and marched to Jade’s room in front of the shocked staff. Knock. No answer. He took a deep breath and kicked the door open. A thick, spicy aroma hit him in the face. The smell of hotpot. Jade paused mid-slice, knife hovering over a slab of beef. They stared at each other. … Silas looked at the table full of food. His expression was… complicated. He pulled out his phone. 【When you said ‘regret,’ did you mean regretting not watching you eat yourself to death?】 Me: “…” I ignored him and kept slicing meat. He stood in the doorway, not leaving. The air had never been this quiet. Ding. Another message. 【I’m sorry.】 I looked up. He was looking down, almost nervous. My anger vanished instantly. I know I inherited my dad’s “yandere” genes. When someone I like treats others well, I get destructive urges. But my mom’s vanity neutralizes it. Whenever I want to hurt myself, I look in the mirror, see my glowing skin, and think: I can’t damage this masterpiece. As for hurting others? My mom made me watch “True Crime Daily” growing up. I know the law. People who don’t understand me aren’t worth jail time. So, I found the best outlet: Slicing meat. The feeling of a sharp blade through beef calms me down. But I hate sharing food when I’m mad. Wait. Silas kicked the door down. Was he… worried? I hesitated. “You want some?” He actually nodded. He walked over and sat opposite me naturally. The butler watched with a goofy grin and quietly closed the door. I tried to stay quiet, but Silas typed: 【Tell me about yourself. I want to listen.】 My eyes lit up. “Really?” He nodded. That hotpot lasted four hours. My mouth ran like a wild horse. Silas listened intently, nodding at the right times. Even Ginger tells me to shut up after a few hundred sentences. Oh God. I really found my soulmate. Overcome with emotion, I lunged across the table and hugged him. “Hubby! Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me!” Silas stopped breathing. He stiffened into a statue, but his pale face turned a deep shade of crimson.

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The year Julian Sterling became the nation’s top scorer on the SATs, Harvard and MIT were so desperate to recruit him that they offered him a special “Plus One” scholarship—he could bring anyone he wanted with him. Everyone assumed he would give that spot to me. But in the end, the girl who walked through the gates of Harvard Yard with him wasn’t me. It was the transfer student, Ivy Brooks. “Harvard is Ivy’s dream,” Julian told me, his voice calm and reasonable. “She needs this opportunity more than you do.” He said my grades were mediocre anyway, that I’d just be looked down on if I went to an Ivy League school. So he “helped” me apply to an art school in New York instead. “Wait for me,” he promised. “When we graduate, we’ll get married.” I didn’t wait. I packed my bags and flew to Paris to study art on my own terms. Years later, we met again. Julian stared at the ring on my finger, his eyes red and wet. “Why?” he choked out. “You said you’d only ever marry me.” 1 It had been seven years since high school graduation. The first time I heard Julian Sterling’s name in nearly a decade was at JFK Airport, waiting for a flight back home. The girl sitting next to me kept glancing my way. Finally, on the seventh look, she leaned in. “Lily? Lily Harper?” I looked up, confused. Her face didn’t ring a bell. “It is you! Do you remember me? We went to Westview High together!” Seeing my blank stare, she tried harder. “We were in the drama club? We painted the sets for Grease?” High school felt like a lifetime ago. I racked my brain, but nothing came up. She didn’t seem to mind. “It’s okay if you don’t remember me. But you definitely remember Julian Sterling, right?” Julian Sterling. The moment that name hit the air, my mask slipped. My eyes must have betrayed me because she clapped her hands together. “I knew it! You guys were the Golden Couple of Westview High!” “Remember when Julian got that perfect SAT score? Harvard practically begged him to attend and told him he could bring his girlfriend along.” Her eyes sparkled with gossip. “So? Did you guys go to Harvard together? Are you married now? Are you here on a business trip?” She fired off questions like a machine gun. I didn’t hear most of them. My mind was already spinning, dragging up memories I thought I had buried deep. Luckily, the boarding announcement saved me. “Sorry, that’s my flight,” I said, standing up abruptly. She looked confused as I hurried away, leaving her questions hanging in the stale airport air. 2 My escape didn’t calm me down. For the entire seven-hour flight, the name “Julian Sterling” echoed in my head like a cursed mantra. Julian was my childhood sweetheart. My “bamboo horse,” as they say. He was Westview High’s prodigy. He won every math Olympiad, every science fair. When he scored a perfect 1600 on the SATs, recruiters were camping on his front lawn. Harvard and MIT fought over him. To sweeten the deal, they offered him a rare “Partner Admission”—a guaranteed spot for a significant other. Before Julian even made a decision, people were already congratulating me. Everyone knew. Lily and Julian were inseparable. We were a package deal. Sitting in my cramped economy seat, I recalled the envy on that girl’s face at the airport. A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. Seven years later, and people still didn’t know the truth. The girl who went to Harvard with Julian wasn’t me. 3 I spent the flight in a daze. It wasn’t until I landed and heard his voice that the fog lifted. “Hey. You land okay?” “Yeah. Just touched down.” “You sound off. Everything alright?” Five words, and he knew. I marveled at Ethan’s intuition. “Just jet lag,” I lied. I didn’t want to burden him with my high school drama. “Get to the hotel and sleep. I’ll call you later.” “Okay.” I hung up and took a cab to the hotel. I tried to sleep, but my phone buzzed. It was Sarah, my old class president. “Lily! You’re back in the States? Why didn’t you tell anyone?!” I was surprised. “How did you know?” “The alumni group chat! Check it!” I hadn’t logged into that Facebook group in years. I barely remembered my password. I scrolled back. Two days ago, someone had posted a candid photo of me at the airport. [OMG! Guess who I saw at JFK? It’s Lily Harper!] [I was scared to ask, but it’s totally her. She looks even more gorgeous now. So chic!] The photo was a side profile of me dozing off near the gate. The chat exploded. [Is it really her? She hasn’t aged a day.] [Is she alone? Where’s Julian? Aren’t they inseparable?] I scrolled down. Julian’s name appeared again and again. It was like we were still tethered together in everyone’s minds. Then, a message stopped the flow. [Wait, you guys don’t know? Julian and Lily broke up right after graduation.] The chat went wild. [What?!] [No way. Julian worshipped the ground she walked on.] [Why would they break up?] I closed the app. I didn’t need to read the theories. Sarah was still talking in my ear. “So, you’re in New York? I’m in the city too! We have to grab dinner!” Sarah was the only person from high school I kept in touch with. I agreed. That one “yes” led me straight into the path of the one person I had spent seven years avoiding. Julian Sterling. 4 It was a setup. Or maybe just cosmic bad luck. Sarah picked a trendy restaurant in SoHo. When I walked in, she hugged me tight. “I missed you so much! You look amazing!” She linked her arm in mine, chattering away as we walked toward our table. “You know, Mr. Harrison still talks about you. He was so bummed you didn’t go to art school in the States. He tells every freshman class about your talent.” “And honestly, I still don’t get it. Why did you leave over Julian? It wasn’t worth it…” She stopped dead in her tracks. I followed her gaze. Standing near the coat check was a man. Julian. 5 It had been seven years. I had imagined this moment a thousand times. What would he look like? He was wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks. The boyish softness was gone, replaced by sharp angles and a cold, professional aura. He looked successful. Mature. But his eyes—those dark, distant eyes—were exactly the same. Sarah looked back and forth between us, the air suddenly heavy and awkward. “Julian, everyone’s here. We’re just waiting for you.” A soft, melodic voice drifted from behind him. A woman walked up to Julian. She placed a hand on his arm, then noticed us. She froze. Her eyes widened in shock. “Lily…?” I recognized the panic in her voice. It was Ivy Brooks. I looked at her, calm and composed. Honestly, she had no reason to be nervous. She was the winner. I was the one who fled the country. If that girl from the airport were here, I could finally tell her the truth. “The girl who went to Harvard with Julian wasn’t me.” It was her. Ivy Brooks. 6 Before we were seventeen, Julian and I were basically the same person. We were born on the same day, in the same hospital. Our moms were best friends. We went to the same preschool, same elementary, same middle school. Julian gave me his first Valentine’s card. He got into his first fistfight defending my honor. When I got my first period at school, he was the one who ran to the store to buy me pads. We were inevitable. Everyone said so. Then came sophomore year. And Ivy Brooks. She was a transfer student from a small town. Quiet, studious, plain. I didn’t pay attention to her until midterms, when she scored second in the class—just one point behind Julian. “Whoa,” Sarah had said, looking at the ranking sheet. “Someone’s finally giving Julian a run for his money.” “Please,” I laughed. “Julian’s a genius. She won’t catch him.” I was wrong. She didn’t just catch him. She caught his attention.

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The dating profile claimed she was a teacher, but she showed up to the restaurant with ten friends, immediately ordered eight bottles of vintage Bordeaux, and enough Wagyu and Australian lobster to feed a small army, announcing it was a test of my financial viability. I simply smiled. I walked calmly up to the front desk and deposited a thousand dollars onto my account. Then, I left a message for the waiter: “The remaining balance will be settled by the beautiful lady in the restroom touching up her makeup. If she refuses, call the police.” 1 Twilight had settled over the city, the neon slicing through the thin haze like countless prying eyes. I was seated in the plush leather booth of The Gilded Coterie, my fingertip tracing the chilled glass of an unused wine goblet. The air hung thick with a peculiar, heady mixture: expensive perfume, seafood, and the aggressive scent of money. It was nauseating. The woman across from me was Sierra Wells, introduced via a distant contact of my mother’s—one of those well-meaning, meddling suburban matchmakers. Her profile had promised an elementary school English teacher, a product of a “refined background,” gentle and intellectual. Yet, here she was, giggling conspiratorially with her ten so-called “best friends.” Their laughter was a high, grating sound, sharp enough to cut through the opulent silence of the private dining room. Their gazes swept over me like floodlights, missing no detail: the brand of my watch, the subtle weave of my custom-tailored shirt, the keys to my German sedan resting casually on the tablecloth. “Rhys, I hear from the matchmaker that you run your own firm. A big success, isn’t it?” A woman with aggressive scarlet nails leaned forward, her décolletage a deliberate distraction. I adjusted my classic-frame glasses. My expression, framed by the lens, was perfectly neutral. “A small operation,” I answered, my tone mild. “Just enough to keep the lights on.” Sierra took a slow sip of the ruby-red liquid—vintage Bordeaux, which they’d ordered the moment they arrived, eight bottles deep, without consulting a single person. She looked at me with the assessing gaze of a buyer inspecting a commodity, a small, calculating smile playing on her lips. “Oh, Rhys Harrington, don’t be modest. Brenda Moyer told my friend that you’ve done quite well for yourself. A few properties downtown, I hear?” Her voice was just loud enough to carry across the long table. The ten women inhaled in an exaggerated, collective gasp. Their eyes, already hot with curiosity, now burned with renewed interest. Brenda Moyer. My mother’s Zumba buddy. I mentally rolled my eyes. It seemed my financial history was her favorite piece of gossip. “Just rumors, Sierra. Nothing worth repeating,” I maintained, my composure undisturbed. “Oh, but a man should show his strength!” another heavily made-up friend interjected. “Sierra is the prettiest of our group; the men lining up for her stretch down the block. Her agreeing to see you is a real privilege.” “Exactly,” a third chimed in, their voices a well-rehearsed chorus. “Our Sierra has impeccable taste. She doesn’t waste time on men who lack the necessary economic viability.” The message was singular, direct, and delivered with the force of a battering ram: Prove your sincerity with cash if you want to court our princess. I lowered my eyes to the wreckage on the table. The skeletal remains of the huge Australian lobsters, the bone fragments from the high-grade Wagyu, and the untouched sides of expensive, gourmet fare. This wasn’t a date. This was a sophisticated, high-end ambush. And I was the prey, surrounded by predators. Sierra kept her cool, demure smile, acting the part of a princess above the fray. But the flicker of greed and sharp calculation in her eyes stripped away the fragile veneer of her innocence. The room grew warmer, the conversation bolder. “Is that the latest model sedan you drive, Rhys? Over a hundred thousand, I bet?” “And that watch of yours… enough to buy each of us a new designer bag, right?” I continued to offer nothing but polite smiles and noncommittal phrases, maintaining an air of detached ease. In their eyes, my silence was not a sign of restraint, but an admission of weakness and consent. Finally, Sierra rose, swaying her hips slightly in the tightly-fitted dress. “I’m going to the restroom to touch up my makeup,” she announced, offering me a saccharine smile—a victorious look that suggested the hunt was already over. Her friends followed, some claiming they needed a smoke break, others saying they’d accompany her. Within seconds, the cavernous private room held only me and the evidence of their plunder. I sat for three full minutes, listening to their muffled, excited whispers fade down the hallway. Perfect. The charade was over. I stood up slowly, smoothing the jacket of my suit, ensuring there wasn’t a single wrinkle. Then, with deliberate, unhurried steps, I walked out of the room. I didn’t head toward the restrooms. I went straight to the restaurant’s opulent front desk. The hostess, dressed in a sleek uniform, gave me a professional smile. “Good evening, sir. How may I help you?” “The check,” I said simply. Her smile broadened. “Of course, sir. The total consumption for your table comes to thirty-one thousand, six hundred, and eighty dollars. We’ll round it down to thirty-one thousand six hundred.” I nodded and pulled my bank card from my wallet. “Here’s the thing,” I said. “I currently have exactly one thousand dollars in liquid cash available on this card. Please deduct that amount first.” The hostess’s professional smile shattered, replaced by an expression of baffled disbelief. She looked at me as if I’d spoken an alien language. “Sir… Are you serious?” “Do I look like I’m joking?” I countered calmly. I handed her the card. “Swipe the thousand.” She hesitated, then, under a discreet signal from the manager nearby, took the card and ran the transaction. The receipt printed out. I tucked the card and the slip away, then leaned in, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “The remaining balance will be settled by the beautiful lady in the restroom touching up her makeup.” I gestured toward the far hallway with a slight tilt of my head. “Her name is Sierra Wells. She was the host. If she refuses to pay, you are authorized to call the police immediately. She is skipping out on the check.” Without waiting for her spectacular expression to change, I turned, my stride steady and long, and walked out of The Gilded Coterie without a backward glance. The cool night air hit my face, dissipating the oppressive heat of the dining room. I took a deep breath. I felt lighter than I had in months. My phone screen glowed with an incoming call—my mother, no doubt checking on the progress of the date. I silenced the ringer and dropped the phone into my pocket. Tonight, I wasn’t speaking to anyone. Let that thirty-thousand-dollar bill be my little housewarming gift to Ms. Wells and her cadre of excellent friends. 2 Back at my condo, I took a long, hot shower, washing away the stench of expensive perfume, stale air, and social maneuvering. Dressed in comfortable loungewear, I sat in my study, the faint light of the computer screen illuminating my face. I didn’t spare a single thought for Sierra Wells’s current state of panic, or how she was managing the spectacle. An adult is responsible for her own actions. The moment they stepped into that restaurant with a plan to fleece me, the ending was inevitable. My phone vibrated a dozen times on silent mode. Sierra’s name flashed repeatedly, followed by a series of unknown numbers. I picked up the device and, without a shred of emotion, dragged her contact into the blocked list. The world went quiet again. The next morning, I went to work as usual. Life seemed to have snapped back into place, the absurd dinner feeling like a bad dream. But I knew better. A woman as high on her own ambition and as prone to vengeance as Sierra Wells wouldn’t simply swallow this insult. Trouble arrived that afternoon. My friend, Nolan Scott, pinged me a link with a simple message: “You’ve gone viral, Rhys.” I clicked on the link. It led to a major local social media group, something dedicated to neighborhood gossip and local politics. The title was shocking, visceral: “Heart-Wrenching Accusation! The Soulless Scammer Who Played an Innocent Teacher, Where Is the Justice?!” The ID of the poster was “Humble_Heart_Sierra,” and the profile picture was a soft, filtered side-profile, the background intentionally blurred to suggest a classroom chalkboard. It was Sierra. Of course. The post was a masterpiece of contrived victimhood, a moving, tear-soaked tale. She described herself as a humble, hardworking public school teacher from a modest background, seeking only a reliable man for a stable life. She claimed she’d been introduced to me—a man who looked successful. She wrote that I pursued her aggressively and insisted on taking her out. To avoid letting me overspend, she’d brought a few friends for company, thinking a larger group would make the atmosphere lighter. Instead, she claimed, I ostentatiously ordered an entire table of unimaginably expensive dishes to flaunt my wealth. Then, under the pretense of going to the restroom, I had run away. I had abandoned her, a vulnerable woman, to face a monstrous thirty-thousand-dollar bill alone, leaving her hysterical and distraught. “I was frozen,” she wrote. “My hands and feet were ice-cold. My friends were terrified; they’re regular working women, they’d never seen anything like this. I had to bite the bullet, max out every credit card I had, call my elderly parents, and borrow from every single relative just to cover the bill. When I finally stumbled out of the restaurant, it was the middle of the night. Walking alone on the empty street, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. All I wanted was a simple, honest relationship. Why did I have to meet a monster?” She included a photo of the blurred restaurant bill, the final, enormous number clearly visible. The entire post was polished, tear-jerking, and calculated to incite immediate, furious sympathy. I almost believed her ghost-written plight myself. The comment section was already a dumpster fire. “HOLY COW! This guy is utter trash! A sociopath!” “Poor Sierra. Sending a huge hug. Don’t let this get to you.” “Someone needs to Dox this scum and run him out of the city!” “Justice for Ms. Wells! Society is so unfair to women!” Sierra was smart; she hadn’t named me directly, but the details—“runs his own firm,” “wears gold-rimmed glasses”—were specific enough to leave little doubt. Worse, she’d anonymously shared the post into a local “Moms and Tots” group, where people claiming to be her co-workers or friends jumped in to “confirm” the story. “It’s true, Sierra cried all night. Her eyes are so swollen.” “I think I know the guy, the one who owns the tech company. I knew he had a bad reputation.” “She’s a respected educator, to be abused like this is just heartbreaking.” The teacher title granted her an instant moral halo, a free pass to the public’s sympathy. Sierra was exploiting this perfectly. She had crafted herself into the perfect victim, and me into the unforgivable villain: the arrogant, heartless scammer who flaunted his wealth and dodged the check. I stared at the screen, a cold, sharp fire igniting in my chest. I had underestimated her ruthlessness, and the terrifying power of a manipulated crowd. This game, it seemed, was only just beginning. I picked up my phone and called Nolan Scott. “Nolan? You free? I need a favor.” 3 “My mother just called. She ripped me to shreds.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as if discussing a character in a book. Nolan was silent for a few seconds, then I heard the familiar flick of a lighter. “Your mom knows? That spread fast.” “Brenda Moyer—the matchmaker—saw the post in some community feed, added her own spin, and called my mother. Now she’s convinced I tormented a ‘sweet, hardworking girl’ and wants me to apologize immediately and pay the tab.” I leaned back in my chair, the agitation creeping up my spine. More painful than the venom of strangers was the lack of understanding from family. My mother could never grasp the nuance; in her world, a teacher could not be a bad person. She would only see me as the cold, unforgiving son. “So what’s the move? Argue with the internet? I’m telling you, it’s useless. Emotions are running too high. You explain, they see deflection. You clarify, they see guilt,” Nolan’s voice was coolly analytical. “I’m not that stupid,” I replied. “We’ve already lost the opening skirmish on the battlefield of public opinion. Charging in now is guaranteed social suicide.” “Then what’s the strategy?” “I want her to swallow every lie she spat out, one agonizing bite at a time.” My words were soft, but Nolan knew I wasn’t joking. “Consider it done. Tell me what you need.” His loyalty was a given, an unspoken foundation of our friendship. “I need everything on Sierra Wells. Her social accounts, her actual consumption habits, her inner circle. The more detail, the better. She wants to play the role of the innocent sweetheart? I’m going to peel back every layer and show the world exactly what color she really is.” “A piece of cake,” Nolan replied instantly. “I’ll get started. But you also need to make a move. The surveillance footage from that restaurant is your primary evidence.” “I know.” I hung up and looked out the window at the dull, overcast sky. The outline of the city seemed vague, uncertain. Public opinion was like this weather: seemingly overwhelming, but a strong enough wind will scatter it. My job was to generate that wind. I called The Gilded Coterie and asked for the manager. He sounded instantly cautious when I introduced myself. “Mr. Harrington? Is this about Ms. Wells’s bill? She settled the account.” “I know,” I interrupted. “I’m not calling about the money. I’m calling about my reputation.” I briefly explained the social media campaign. The manager was silent. “Mr. Harrington, we’re a luxury establishment. We can’t just release customer private information.” “I’m not asking you to leak anything,” I countered, my voice gaining an edge. “I need you to preserve the raw security footage and the original order slip from that night. Ms. Wells is publicly claiming I skipped out on a bill—that damages your establishment’s reputation as much as mine. If this escalates, I won’t hesitate to involve my legal team, and then simply providing the evidence won’t be enough.” Pressure and leverage: the most effective tools in the adult world. The manager weighed his options, his tone finally softening. “…I understand, Mr. Harrington. We will archive all relevant evidence. Should the authorities or a legal representative request it, we will fully cooperate.” “Excellent.” I had the promise I needed. Now, I just had to wait for Nolan. Throughout the afternoon, my phone buzzed with screenshots and links from friends—all variations of the same accusatory post. Some were shocked, some were doubtful, and many urged me to post a rebuttal. I ignored them all. Making any move without absolute certainty would be foolish. My mother called again that evening, her voice sterner than before. “Rhys! What is wrong with you? The family group chat is ablaze! You’re making me look ridiculous! Brenda Moyer called me to tell me that poor Sierra was so upset she checked herself into the hospital! You march over there, apologize, and pay back that money! Do you hear me?” “I have not shirked my responsibility,” I said calmly. “You haven’t? She’s a young woman, thirty thousand dollars! How could you let her bear that alone? How did I raise such a heartless son?” My mother’s voice was wet with tears. I closed my eyes, a deep sense of powerlessness washing over me. “Mom, it’s not what you think. Give me time. I will fix this.” “I won’t wait! I’m going to the hospital tomorrow to see Ms. Wells and apologize for your behavior myself!” She hung up with a sharp click. I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. A suffocating knot tightened in my chest. This was Sierra’s true aim. Not just to damage my reputation and finances, but to inject poison into my family life. A cruel and calculated psychological attack. Vicious. And ultimately, stupid. She thought this would force me to surrender? She was wrong. She had stoked not my guilt, but my absolute, cold-blooded resolve to crush her. Nolan’s efficiency was remarkable. By nine that night, a clean, organized dossier landed in my secure email inbox. “The fish is on the hook. Check your mail,” his text read.

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