Category: English

Four years of college dating. Three years of marriage. And then, on a Tuesday that was aggressively ordinary, Grant dropped the bomb. I asked him why, my voice trembling in a way I hated. His response was terrifyingly calm, a CEO firing an underperforming intern. “You live in sweatpants, Nora. Your hair is always in that same messy bun. You refuse to wear makeup when I take you to client dinners. And our anniversary? It’s always the same homemade spaghetti.” He adjusted his cufflinks, looking through me. “I am done with this repetitive, beige existence.” That night, we slept in separate rooms. We didn’t speak. And neither of us noticed the pilot light on the vintage gas stove in the kitchen had flickered out, while the gas kept running. The explosion took the house, and us, instantly. When I woke up—alive, breathing, and inexplicably back in time—I realized Grant had come back too. We never spoke of it. We just severed ties with a silent, mutual efficiency. Until the high school reunion. He walked in with his arm around a girl named Sienna, looking like the poster couple for Town & Country. “Nora,” my friend Jess nudged me, wine glass tilting dangerously. “Grant’s dated half the cheerleading squad since graduation. Why haven’t you found anyone?” I smiled, swirling the ice in my water. “Who says I haven’t? I’m getting married next month. You should come.” 1 The words had barely left my lips when Grant guided Sienna to our table. The air in the room shifted. A dozen pairs of eyes darted between us like we were a spectator sport. Three years ago, we were the golden couple, the prom king and queen who actually made it. Then, post-graduation silence. I stared at the tablecloth, trying to make myself small. Of all the empty seats in the banquet hall, Sienna pulled Grant into the ones directly next to me. The tension was thick enough to choke on. The class president, trying to salvage the mood, raised a pitcher of beer. “Alright, gang’s all here! Let’s do a round!” He moved to fill the glass in front of me. “She’s allergic to alcohol. She can’t drink that.” Grant’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and instinctive. The table went dead silent. Everyone knew about my severe intolerance; it was a defining trait of my college years. Grant cleared his throat, realizing his slip. He grabbed his own glass and downed it, a frown etching lines into his forehead. Beside him, Sienna’s smile faltered, brittle as dried leaves. She laughed, a high, forced sound. “Oh, silly me. I almost forgot Grant was talking about me,” she lied, clinging to his arm. “My immune system has been so weak lately; the doctor said alcohol might trigger a reaction.” The table erupted in polite, awkward laughter, making jokes about Grant being such a protective boyfriend. I felt a wave of exhaustion. “Excuse me,” I said, standing up. “Restroom.” I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the past. When I stepped back into the hallway, Grant was there, leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his fingers. Seeing me, he immediately crushed the cigarette against the sole of his shoe. He stared at the smoldering butt, freezing for a second. I hated smoke. In our old life, Grant never smoked around me. If he indulged, he would stand outside on the porch for thirty minutes, letting the wind strip the scent away before coming near me. I loved him then. I felt nothing now. I tried to walk past him without a glance, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist. He leaned in, the smell of tobacco and expensive cologne invading my space. “Nora. Did you hear I was coming? Is that why you’re here?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “What? Want to try again?” I yanked my hand away, looking at him with genuine amusement. “Grant, you are hallucinating.” He took a half-step back but blocked my path, his jaw tight. “Fine. Better that way. Saves me the trouble of rejecting you. By the way, I heard you’re working at City General. I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you to actually hold down a job.” I ignored the barb. I’d heard it all before in our first life. During our worst fights, he called me a parasite. He said I’d die without him, that I was just a pet he kept fed and housed. “Grant?” Sienna’s voice echoed from the banquet hall. “Where are you? We’re leaving!” Grant didn’t say another word. He turned on his heel and walked away. 2 The second time I saw Grant was strictly professional. His conglomerate was donating a fleet of MRI machines to our hospital. In the conference room, I stood by the projection screen, my voice steady as I ran through the hospital’s history and accolades. Grant sat in the front row, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the mahogany table. The Chief of Staff called his name twice before he blinked, snapping out of a trance. His eyes had been fixed on my face, clouded with a strange confusion. “Must be Dr. Vance’s captivating presentation,” the Chief joked nervously. People chuckled. The tension broke. When the meeting ended, I exhaled a breath I felt I’d been holding for an hour. My only goal was to escape. “Nora,” the Department Head intercepted me at the door. “Dinner tonight with the donors. Mandatory attendance.” That evening, I tried to slide into the seat furthest from the head of the table at the steakhouse. “Sit here.” Grant’s voice wasn’t a request. He pulled out the chair directly next to him, his eyes locking onto mine. The room went quiet for a heartbeat. “I want to hear more about the hospital’s logistics,” he added slowly, daring me to contradict him. “Dr. Vance wouldn’t mind, would she?” He had cornered me. The Department Head practically shoved me into the chair, signaling me with frantic eyes to play nice. I sat, stiff as a board, every nerve ending screaming run. Halfway through the meal, a serving spoon hovered over my plate. A large scoop of lobster risotto landed in front of me. “I remember you love lobster risotto,” Grant said, his voice dropping to that intimate register again. “This place has the best in Chicago. Eat.” I stared at the creamy rice, the chunks of rich meat. A sudden sting pricked my nose. Not for him. For me. I hated lobster. I hated the texture. But Grant loved it. So, for seven years, it became our favorite. Just like I stopped eating fish because he disliked the smell, even though I grew up by the coast. Grant didn’t know me. He only knew the reflection of himself he had forced me to become. I didn’t pick up my fork. Under the table, a warm hand covered mine. It felt like a branding iron. I jerked up, my chair screeching against the floorboards. Clatter. My sudden movement knocked the silverware off the table. The room froze. Everyone stared. I pressed my lips together, fighting the tremor in my voice. “I apologize. I’m not feeling well. I need to go.” And then, I fled. 3 In the back of the Uber, I scrubbed the back of my hand with a wet wipe until the skin turned raw and red. It stung, but the physical pain was better than the nausea rolling in my stomach. The moment I walked into my apartment, an unknown number flashed on my phone screen. I swiped answer. Grant’s voice filled the quiet room, sounding slightly unhinged. “Nora. You still feel it, don’t you?” He sounded so sure of himself. “If you didn’t, why did you freak out tonight?” I hadn’t eaten all day, and my stomach was cramping violently. I didn’t have the energy to scream. “Grant. I am married.” A scoff cracked through the speaker. Pure derision. “Married? At least come up with a believable lie. Who else could possibly give you the life you want?” “You think that hospital salary is going to buy you a brownstone in the Gold Coast? You think you’ll be wearing designer silk on a resident’s pay?” “Admit it, Nora. You’re just punishing me for not calling you sooner.” “But you didn’t call me either, did you?” I let out a dry, incredulous laugh, digging through my drawer for my stomach meds. “Grant, when two adults don’t speak for years, that’s called a breakup.” “I am asking you, for the last time, stay out of my life.” I hung up, tossed the phone onto the sofa, and dry-swallowed two pills. I lay back, closing my eyes, waiting for the silence to heal me. 4 The next morning, the stomach cramps had faded to a dull ache, but my head was pounding. The door to my exam room swung open. Grant walked in, guiding Sienna. I didn’t even blink. I put on my doctor face. “What seems to be the problem?” Sienna leaned into Grant’s chest, giggling softly. “Doctor, I’ve been so nauseous lately. Throwing up in the mornings.” I wrote out a lab slip without looking up. “Go to the lab. Get a blood draw.” An hour later, I held the results. My voice was clinical, devoid of emotion. “You’re pregnant.” Sienna’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. She grabbed Grant’s bicep. “Grant! Did you hear? We’re having a baby!” Grant didn’t look at her. His eyes were laser-focused on me, burning with intensity. I ignored him, going through the standard script about prenatal vitamins and scheduling the next ultrasound. “Do you have any questions?” I asked, picking up my pen. “Get rid of it,” Grant said. Sienna’s smile shattered. Tears welled up instantly. “What? Grant, why? Why don’t you want our baby?” Grant’s voice was flat, final. “I said no. That means no. There is no ‘why’.” Sienna followed his gaze. She looked at him, then at me. The realization hit her like a physical blow. “It’s her, isn’t it? Grant, look at me! Is it because of this bitch?” “You broke up years ago! I am your girlfriend!” Grant frowned, annoyed by the scene. “Now isn’t the right time for a child. I need to focus on the merger.” “Lies! It’s all lies!” Sienna screamed, lunging across the desk. Rrrrip. She snatched the medical file from my hands and tore it in half. Paper rained down like confetti. “You whore! Did you seduce him? Is that why he won’t touch me? Is that why he wants to kill my baby?” Smack! The slap caught me off guard. My glasses flew off my face, skittering across the tile floor. One lens shattered. My ear rang with a high-pitched whine. Grant’s face went pale. He grabbed Sienna, pulling her into a hug, his voice dropping to a soothing murmur. “Okay, okay. Calm down. It’s bad for the baby.” “If you want it that much, fine. Keep it.” He wrapped his arm around the sobbing woman and turned to leave. “Stop.” They froze. I bent down, picked up my broken frames, and placed them on the desk. Then, looking straight at them, I picked up the landline and dialed 911. 5 The police station was a drab gray box fluorescent-lit and smelling of stale coffee. Grant sat on a bench, holding Sienna, whispering comforts. I sat alone on the opposite side. My left cheek was swollen, pulsing with heat. I ran my tongue over a cut inside my mouth, tasting copper. An officer walked over, looking weary. “Ma’am, if you don’t accept mediation and insist on pressing charges, Ms. Miller could be facing assault charges. It’s a serious offense.” Sienna heard this and dissolved into theatrics, clutching Grant’s lapels. “Grant, I’m scared… it was just hormones… I didn’t mean it…” Grant patted her back, then looked at me. His eyes were cold, filled with the arrogance of a man who had never been told ‘no’. “Name your price, Nora. How much to make this go away?” I tried to speak, but my jaw ached. He hadn’t changed. Not one bit. When you amused him, you were a queen. When you inconvenienced him, you were debris. I looked him in the eye. “I don’t settle.” Grant sighed, like a parent dealing with a toddler’s tantrum. “Nora, don’t push it.” “It was one slap. Take the check and stop making a scene.” “I don’t want your money,” I said, enunciating every syllable. “I am pressing charges. I will not forgive this.” Grant’s jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone and speed-dialed his legal team. His lawyer arrived in twenty minutes—a shark in a three-thousand-dollar suit. He started listing reasons why a “simple misunderstandings” shouldn’t ruin a young mother’s life. Then my phone rang. It was the Department Head. “Nora! You need to drop this immediately. Make peace with Mr. Lockwood. If you don’t, consider your tenure review cancelled. In fact, consider your job gone.” It was Grant’s move. Threatening my livelihood. “Fine,” I said into the phone. “I quit.” Ten minutes later, the station doors burst open. The Head of HR and two administrators from the hospital stormed in. “Dr. Vance!” The HR director barked. “You are causing a PR nightmare! People are saying you’re a homewrecker who got into a brawl with a pregnant patient!” “Our stock dropped two points! If you don’t settle this and issue a public apology, we will sue you for breach of contract and damages. We’ll ruin you!” I stood there, surrounded, the walls closing in. Then, a voice cut through the chaos from the entrance. “I’d like to see you try.”

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I selected a diamond ring at the auction house, intending it to be my wedding band with Marcus Ashford. But no matter how high I bid, the young woman Marcus sponsored always topped my offer by a single chip. Marcus laughed, a sound laced with indulgent exasperation. “Babe, the kid has a thing for sparkly bits. Let her have it, be sweet.” In return, I executed the scorched-earth close. Daisy Monroe ran out of the room that day, crying. Marcus kissed my forehead with a look of helpless affection. “My impulsive little firecracker.” He didn’t follow Daisy. And for the next year of our marriage, he made sure I knew he hadn’t, relentlessly demanding, night after night, an exhausting variety of attention, never letting up for a moment. Then the invitation to a private event arrived. There, an intimate photograph—a blurred shot of my face lost in pleasure beneath Marcus—was brazenly displayed as an auction lot. Marcus stood with an arm wrapped possessively around Daisy’s waist. “You like your scorched-earth tactics, don’t you?” he said, his smile cold and predatory. “Three hundred and sixty-five private photos. If you don’t want them falling into the wrong hands, you can take your time buying them back.” 1 I stood rigid in the auction hall, listening to dozens of men in tailored suits talk openly and vulgarly in front of the massive screen. “God, she’s filthy! I’ve been around the block a hundred times, but this is the first time a single photo has gotten me this worked up.” “Tsk, tsk! I wouldn’t have guessed. Eliza Sutton looks like a choir girl, but she’s filthier in bed than a high-end escort. And she had the nerve to tell me to get lost the one time I tried to touch her at a charity event.” “Ashford’s got all the luck. He gets to break in a debutante from a family of academics.” A man nudged his neighbor and gave a suggestive wink toward Marcus, who sat alone at the main table. My hands clenched into fists, trembling as I turned to look at my husband. The seat that was once mine was occupied by Daisy. Marcus made no effort to hide his satisfaction, his lips curving into a subtle smirk. “For the winner of each photo,” he announced, his voice carrying clearly across the room, “we’re including the full video recording from that night.” “Ashford, you’re a legend!” The men erupted in cheers. Marcus’s beautiful eyes fixed on mine, a thread of amusement woven into his gaze. “Don’t look at me like that, Eliza. I told you, you can use your scorched-earth tactics. Three hundred and sixty-five pictures. Take your time.” “Oh, Ashford, surely you know! The Sutton Group went belly-up recently. Miss Sutton barely has two cents to rub together!” “One of those scorched-earth bids costs five million dollars! She’d be lucky to have ten million in liquid cash left.” Marcus raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? Is that so?” “Damn shame. Three hundred and sixty-five shots, each one better than the last. Honestly, I’d love to buy the whole collection and observe them at my leisure.” A man stroked his chin, sighing. “Too bad, Ashford is the only one here with that kind of capital.” Marcus chuckled, raising a hand. “Gentlemen, Ashford Holdings will not participate in the bidding for any of today’s lots. All proceeds will be donated to a vetted charity. Bid freely.” The room exploded with renewed cheers. “That’s a true entrepreneur! Thank God Ashford secretly squeezed out Sutton Industries’ partners, or we might not have gotten a hold of these photos today!” “What are you worried about? We’ve got dozens of guys here. We can all share!” “No way! That third shot is too wild. I’m taking it!” Only I stood there, my fists trembling, staring at Marcus in disbelief. “The Sutton Group’s collapse,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Was that your doing?” Marcus simply looked back, the smirk playing on his lips. Tears streamed down my face, my voice raw and coarse. “Why… because I executed a scorched-earth bid a year ago?” Marcus ignored my plea, taking the microphone. “Time is limited, Mrs. Ashford. If you aren’t going to participate in the auction, I’m going to let my friends start.” The men watched me, their expressions smug and expectant. Each man in this room was a mogul, a titan in our social circle. The paltry ten million I had left was barely enough for one of their weekend trips. How could I possibly compete? “I need a restroom.” I quickly wiped my eyes and turned to leave the hall. I genuinely feared I would lose my mind right there on the spot. A roar of laughter erupted behind me. “The little tramp actually has shame, hahaha!” “Ashford, don’t wait for her. Ten million dollars? She can’t play with us. She’s just embarrassed and using the restroom as an excuse to run.” “Silence.” Marcus’s voice cut through the noise, cold and sharp. He stared intently at the entrance. The entire room fell silent; no one dared to cross him. A moment later, I pushed the door open. I walked back in, my eyes still red, and took my seat under the collective gaze of the room. “Start the bidding.” Marcus glanced at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. To ensure clarity, the main screen behind the host had been transformed into a panoramic, wraparound display, continuously scrolling through my humiliation so everyone could “enjoy” it from any angle. “Lot number one.” The host smiled knowingly. “Starting bid, two hundred thousand.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. “Classy! So tasteful! A fine art exhibit! Only the Sutton debutante could make it look this good.” “Two hundred fifty thousand!” The host didn’t smile; instead, he put up a text description. I shot to my feet. It was a detailed narrative of the pivotal moments from my wedding night with Marcus. Aside from me, the only person who could have written those details was… I trembled as I stared at Marcus. He sat there calmly, a look of detached mockery on his face, as if none of this involved him. Only when Daisy leaned in to whisper to him did he turn, his eyes filling with a tenderness he’d never once offered me. The clamor around me was deafening. “I thought the photo was hot enough, but the story is even wilder! Don’t snatch it up too fast—five million! I want the video!” “Six million!” “They started this hot on the first night, I can’t imagine what came later… Ugh! Ten million!” “Scorched earth.” I heard my voice, shaking and weak. All heads turned toward me. The host maintained his professional smile. “Lot thirty-eight executes the scorched-earth bid. Are you certain?” I collapsed back into my seat, my voice a barely-there whisper. “Certain.” “Damn! Too bad, that video was definitely going to be explosive.” “What are you afraid of? How many lots can she cover?” “Exactly. The later ones will be better anyway. The more experience, the hotter the content.” “Lot thirty-eight, scorched earth! Congratulations, Mrs. Ashford, you’ve secured the video package!” I closed my eyes, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. The large screen immediately moved to the second photograph, complete with its accompanying narrative. “Lot number two, starting bid two hundred thousand!” The room erupted. “Is this even real? It’s better than any of the study material I’ve ever seen!” A man sitting close to me poked my arm. “Tsk, tsk, tsk! I never would have thought it. You look so pure, but in private, you’re just a low-down tramp.” I shot him a venomous glare. He roared with laughter. “Hey, I like them just like you! If Ashford doesn’t want you, come to me! I’ll spot you one of your bids. How about it?” “Don’t touch me.” My voice was icy enough to kill. The man snorted dismissively and sat back. “Playing innocent? You’re used goods. Ten million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Scorched… earth.” I don’t know where I found the strength to utter the words. The host glanced at me, his smile deepening with a hint of malice. “Lot thirty-eight, scorched earth!” The transaction was complete. He turned back to me with an artificial smile. “That’s two scorched-earth bids, ma’am. Based on our verification, you have less than five hundred thousand left in liquid cash, you know?” My voice was hollow. “Continue.” “Heh.” The disdain on the host’s face was momentarily unchecked as he brought up the third photograph. “Lot number three, starting bid two hundred thousand!” “Scorched earth.” My voice drew the immediate, bewildered attention of the room. The host frowned. “Mrs. Ashford, your initial verification was ten million, four hundred and thirty thousand dollars. You’ve used two bids. The remaining cash is insufficient.” A man winked at me. “Beg me, little sister, and big brother will cover it for you.” I ignored them and looked only at Marcus. He was watching me, too. But there was no sign of help in his eyes, only a curl of contempt on his lips. Everyone looked to him. After all, he was still my husband. “Why are you all looking at me?” Marcus said casually, a lazy curl to his lip. “I said, all lots are open for you gentlemen to bid on.” The men relaxed with a collective sigh. “Thank you, Ashford, for being a gentleman.” It was then that Daisy, who had been sitting quietly beside him, raised her hand. “How about this,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “I’ll execute the scorched-earth bid for my sister.” Marcus looked at her. A brief flash of astonishment was quickly replaced by undisguised delight. Daisy looked at me. “After all, big sister once sponsored my university tuition abroad. I have to show my gratitude, don’t I?” The smile in Marcus’s eyes deepened. His usually cold demeanor melted away as he looked at Daisy, his face full of warmth. The men in the room began to jeer. “No wonder Ashford loves Daisy! Who wouldn’t love such an obedient girl?” “Daisy is such an angel. She blushes at a dirty joke, unlike some people.” The implied accusation was like a sharpened blade stabbing into me. Daisy’s lips curved in a subtle, victorious smirk before she turned back to me. “Don’t worry, sister.” “You’re a hypocrite.” She faltered. “What?” “Your way of showing gratitude is by stealing my seat and hooking up with my husband?” I leaned back in the chair. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t fallen so far as to need help from a cheap traitor and a human garbage heap.” “Eliza Sutton.” Marcus finally spoke, his tone ice cold and utterly foreign. I gave him a fleeting, frigid glance and addressed the host. “It’s my bid. I’ll handle it myself.” “Well…” The host looked troubled. “If you insist on the scorched-earth bid, we’ll have to liquidate the remaining Sutton real estate. However, the value has dropped significantly since the bankruptcy. It’s barely enough to scrape together five million.” “Execute it. Don’t waste time.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk! This woman is insane.” The men shook their heads and scoffed. “Throwing away her last assets just to save face. It’s a pity; that third one was the one I really wanted.” “Don’t worry. We haven’t even gotten to the half-way point. Three hundred more to go. What are you worried about?” “Exactly. I took a sneak peek—the later ones get so filthy she looks subhuman, hahaha!” A chorus of gazes, pitying and mocking, shot toward me. “Just the death throes of a desperate woman.” “Wait for the next one. She’ll just have to watch us take her private photos.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk! I wonder what her expression will be then. Will it be the same as when she was on Ashford’s bed?” Laughter rang in my ears. I swallowed the lump in my throat, gripped my fists, and looked up at the host. The fourth photo was displayed quickly. “Lot number four, starting bid two hundred thousand!” “No way! I love this one! Fifteen million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Scorched earth.” I spoke. All eyes immediately swiveled to me. The host’s professional smile was finally beginning to crack. “Mrs. Ashford, please stop disrupting the process. If you continue, we will have to ask you to leave.” I said, coolly, “I’m not disrupting anything. I said I want to execute the scorched-earth bid. And not just for this one. I am bidding on all three hundred and sixty-five photos and videos in this entire collection.” The host and the crowd exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. Even Daisy let out a delighted little gasp and buried her face into Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus’s eyes were so full of gentle adoration they could have melted water, and the frozen mask of his face finally relaxed. “Is she insane? Three hundred and sixty-five lots? That’s over one point eight billion dollars! She couldn’t afford that even before she went bankrupt!” “Only Ashford can play that big! Who does she think she is?” The host took a moment to regain his composure and his professional smile. “Mrs. Ashford, you liquidated all your assets on the last lot. You cannot bid on this one. Now, which gentleman bid twenty-five million? Twenty-five million, going once!” Smash! I snatched the glass of water from the table and hurled it forward. It shattered at the host’s feet with a loud crack, making him leap back. I glared at him. “I said I am executing the scorched-earth bid. Are you deaf?” “Eliza Sutton!” A man’s patience snapped. “We played along for three lots! You’re broke now! Stop putting on a show!” “Fraudulent bidding has consequences. The fact that we even want your photos is a compliment, don’t be ungrateful!” The host’s smile was gone entirely. “Mrs. Ashford, if it weren’t for Mr. Ashford, you wouldn’t even have the right to execute a scorched-earth bid here. If you continue to act out, I will have security escort you out!” I narrowed my eyes. “Who said I’m broke?” Marcus watched me, an unreadable tension in his posture. The crowd paused. “Don’t joke around. This is a private auction, but do you think our asset verification methods are a joke? We know exactly how much you have.” I looked at the host. “If I still have funds, I can still bid, correct?” “Yes, but…” “Re-verify my assets.” I cut the host off. The crowd exchanged bewildered looks. Marcus frowned, almost imperceptibly. I pulled the microphone closer to me. “What’s the matter? Can’t you gentlemen handle a simple re-verification?” “Hmph! Verify it then! We’ll let you lose with honor!” My photo was wiped from the main screen, replaced by my bank account balance. The host stood back up. “Lot thirty-eight, second asset verification.” Everyone stared intensely at the numbers, a nervousness creeping onto their faces. Whispers broke out. “How is she so calm? Does she actually have the money?” “No way… Ashford secretly blocked all her company’s partnerships. Who in this city has more pull than him?” “So she’s just completely lost it? Humiliating herself in public? Maybe… maybe she got a backer we don’t know about…” “Impossible! What backer is bigger than Ashford?” “Verification complete.” Everyone leaned in, holding their breath. Subtracting the cost of the three scorched-earth bids… Account Balance— Zero. “Hahahahahaha!!” The room exploded with laughter. “We thought she had some secret plan. Turns out she’s truly lost it!” A faint sneer appeared on Marcus’s lips. Daisy was laughing so hard she was wiping tears from her eyes. The host gestured to the security detail. “I apologize, Mrs. Ashford. You are disrupting the process. I must ask you to leave. Thank you for your support of this auction. Security!” A line of large men immediately moved to surround me. “Wait.” I sat calmly, looking down at my wrist watch. My index finger tapped the armrest, keeping rhythm with the second hand. After three more taps, I made a “go ahead” gesture. “You may re-verify my assets now.” “Eliza Sutton, what do you think we are, here to waste time with a lunatic?” The host was furious, waving his hand. “Drag her out and toss her.” But the words died in his throat. His eyes slowly widened, and he snapped his head back, staring intently at the screen. “This… How is this possible?” Marcus suddenly stood up. Everyone else was on their feet. “That’s… that can’t be real, can it?”

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“You’re an unmarried girl, whose bastard is in your belly?” My parents questioned me like they’d lost their minds. They demanded to know who the father was. I looked at them and suddenly smiled. “The kidnappers.” My parents and brother froze instantly, their faces pale as sheets. I continued softly, “Don’t you remember? The kidnappers demanded a ransom, but you only agreed to save your other precious daughter, saying you wanted to teach me a lesson.” My mother collapsed onto the sofa. “That’s impossible. We just wanted you to learn not to bully Amber anymore. I didn’t… we didn’t think…” I squatted in front of my mother. “You never thought the kidnappers would assault me, did you?” Without waiting for her answer, I continued, “Take a guess. Do several grown male kidnappers have any humanity?” My mother opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “When I came home covered in bruises, why did no one ask me what happened?” “You didn’t come to save me. You only took Amber.” “You didn’t come the first day, nor the second. A whole month…” “Did you think the kidnappers still believed they’d get the ransom?” Well, now it’s fine. I’m dying. 1 The next day, I prepared to go to the hospital for surgery. Coincidentally, I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Shaw and their son, Ethan. Amber’s stomach issues had flared up again, and the whole family was rushing to accompany her. I went to the doctor’s office to confirm the surgery time. Walking out to handle the hospitalization paperwork, Ethan saw me. He grabbed my arm, Amber glaring daggers from behind him. “What are you doing at the hospital? Amber’s stomach acts up because you refuse to eat or drink, and you’re still causing trouble?” Ethan demanded sharply. I waved him off. “I’m not bored enough to visit you guys.” To me, the Shaw family were now strangers. 2 Since I decided not to be a Shaw anymore, I would completely cut off all emotional ties with them, just like… my parents did to me. Perhaps in my bones, I truly shared the same cold blood as the Shaws. I shook off Ethan and walked away. I used to always watch the backs of my parents and Ethan. Finally, I didn’t have to anymore. The biopsy results came back. Stage 4 Glioblastoma. Surgery was pointless, but the baby couldn’t stay. How could I keep the baby? Coming off the operating table alone, I almost lost half my life. I slept for two days, but it felt like a shallow nap. If death is like this, it doesn’t seem too hard to accept. The doctor said the abortion was successful, but the cancer cells had spread. I knew my time was even shorter. A month later, I was discharged. The doctor urged me to continue chemotherapy. That’s when I got a call from Amber. She said if I was leaving the Shaw family, I should make a clean break. She asked to meet at a coffee shop to return my things. Twenty minutes later, I arrived. Amber was already impatient. I didn’t expect Ethan to be there too. He looked me up and down. I had lost weight too fast this month. I looked like I had zero body fat, and the cancer pain left dark circles under my eyes. “Lily, look at yourself. How can you compare to Amber? You’ve embarrassed the Shaw family,” Ethan said. I didn’t speak. I picked up my luggage to leave. Ethan called out to me, looking displeased. Probably because I ignored him. For four years, I spent every moment trying to please him. When had he ever received such cold treatment from me? Seeing he had nothing to say, I prepared to push open the glass door and leave. Ethan tried to grab me but accidentally pulled my hair… my long, brownish-curly hair fell off. Ethan and Amber were shocked. “Why did you shave your head?” 3 “Are you crazy? Don’t you care about your image at all?” Ethan asked, noticing the shocked looks from other customers. Amber sneered, “Lily, what’s your trick this time? People cut flesh to repay parents; are you shaving your head to show determination?” Her words were like knives. I smiled. “Don’t you know what ‘starting from scratch’ means?” I held out my hand to Ethan. “Give me back my wig.” Ethan clutched the wig silently, just staring at me. Amber snatched it and threw it into my arms. I calmly put the wig back on. A skeletal woman with a shaved head on the street does affect the city’s image a bit. “Amber, you don’t need to be so scared. I won’t return to the Shaw family,” I said with a smile. “Not in this life, and definitely not in the next.” “I’m not scared! Mom, Dad, and Brother only love me!” Amber snapped, exasperated. Before going to the hospital for chemo, I went to pick out my grave. Right next to my adoptive parents. In my next life, I want to be their biological daughter. This life hurt too much. Next time, I just want the life I had before 17. To my surprise, the cemetery sales manager was Oliver Gu, the neighbor boy who lived next to my adoptive parents. He didn’t ask much, nor did he try to comfort me artificially. He was probably used to life and death. The brief shock was likely just because it was his first time serving the plot owner directly. Oliver seriously introduced the details and even picked out a high-quality, reasonably priced urn for me. He accompanied me to my parents’ grave. “Dad, Mom…” I missed you so much. I quickened my pace up the 108 steps. Standing before the familiar tombstone, the sight before me made me black out for a second! 4 The tombstone was defaced with large characters written in stinking dog blood. I rushed toward it… [LILY IS A SLUT. PARENTS WHO RAISED A SLUT ARE ANIMALS!] I dropped to my knees, frantically wiping with my sleeves. As I wiped, I apologized, “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry… Your daughter is unfilial, disturbing your peace even in heaven…” “I’m useless. How did this happen…” “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” My hands rubbed until the skin broke. My light-colored clothes were stained red and dirty. Oliver ran back to the office, fetched a bucket and rag, and helped me clean. The rain fell harder, soaking me through. Oliver dragged and carried me down the mountain. I was the real daughter the Shaw family found. But when I returned at 17, the house already had a fake daughter, Amber, the same age as me. Amber. What a nice name. Embbodying all the Shaw family’s love. Before I got lost, my name was Pearl. The pearl in my parents’ palm. In the four years since my return, no one seemed to remember to change my name back to Shaw. I kept the name my adoptive parents gave me, Lily Liu. My adoptive parents treated me well. Unable to conceive, they thought finding me was a gift from heaven. They said they would always cherish me, their baby. But when my DNA was uploaded to a database during a school blood drive, my biological parents, who had lost me 13 years ago, found me. My adoptive parents let me return. They believed I could get better educational resources with the Shaws. At least I wouldn’t need to work part-time to study. But now, I’m dying. Brain tumor, late stage. My adoptive parents were also insulted like this. I felt like my internal organs were being crushed by a giant hand. 5 They don’t love me, and I don’t want to love them anymore. I just want to live for myself at the end of my life. Tomorrow is the painless surgery. But why did I have to see my deeply loving adoptive parents insulted like this? My adoptive mother passed away when I was 12. My adoptive father died in an accident last year. Can’t the dead leave in peace? My childhood memories of Mr. and Mrs. Shaw are blurry. I only remember my brother, Ethan, five years older, taking me to the amusement park. He told me to wait while he bought ice cream. I waited from morning till night. My brother never came back. In the end, a cleaner at the park, my adoptive mother, found me and took me home. On the first day back at the Shaw mansion, Amber cried to me, “I don’t want anything. I know I stole Sister’s identity all these years. But now I just want to be with Dad, Mom, and Brother. Please, Sister, don’t kick me out.” And what did Ethan, the brother who lost me, do? He pushed me away. “Amber, no one will kick you out, and no one dares to. You are my sister, my only sister.” Ethan hugged Amber tight, glaring at me. As if I were a villain trying to break up their family. My biological mother also had red eyes. Looking at Amber, she choked out to me, “Lily, when you got lost, Mom went crazy. So Dad brought Amber home. It was Amber who accompanied Mom through the days and nights without you.” The moment I turned to look at Amber, she smiled at me provocatively. “Mom, let’s not talk about this. Let Sister stay in my room tonight. The guest room isn’t ready yet.” Amber emphasized the words “guest room.” “How can we do that? Amber, you’re picky about beds. You won’t sleep well if you change rooms,” Mom said hurriedly, then abruptly stopped, remembering I was there. For the next four years, I lived in the guest room next to the nanny’s room on the first floor. I never moved. Don’t think about it. Can’t think about it anymore.

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This was supposed to be our wedding condo, yet here we were, finalizing the designs based on the preferences of my fiancé’s dead brother’s widow. On the walk-through, Dean frowned at the freshly applied slate-blue accent wall. “Have this wall repainted,” he instructed the foreman. “Switch it to a warm apricot. Willa always said warm colors make a place feel like home.” It was our home, a space meant for me, yet his entire aesthetic barometer was calibrated to another woman’s taste. But this time, I didn’t argue, I didn’t push back, and I didn’t offer a single, petulant complaint. I calmly folded the architectural drawings. My voice was level, devoid of any discernible emotion. “Fine. Whatever you want. After all, the woman who hosts the home in your heart has always been Willa.” His fingers, mid-buttoning his cuff, froze. He looked over, a flicker of genuine shock in his eyes. The condo was a catch—perfect location, lavish finishes. Too bad the woman moving in wouldn’t be me. 1 The drive back to the Walker estate was silent. Dean glanced at me several times in the rearview mirror, clearly wanting to speak, but ultimately saying nothing. I leaned my head against the window, watching the blur of sycamore trees rush by. My heart felt like a desolate, quiet field. Five years. That’s how long it took me to finally face one brutal truth: Dean had never truly loved me. I was just a stand-in, a shadow filling the space while Willa wasn’t there. When we pulled up to the house, Mrs. Walker was waiting, welcoming me with a wide smile. “Avery, dear, you’re here! Come wash up, I made your favorite—braised short ribs.” Mrs. Walker took my hand, her smile beaming. I offered a polite, detached, “Thank you, Mrs. Walker,” and followed her into the dining room. My gaze immediately landed on Willa, seated next to Dean’s chair at the head of the table. She was wearing a soft lavender slip dress, her hair loosely pinned up, and an ankle wrapped in a bandage. She was painstakingly attempting to shift her chair. “Willa,” I greeted her flatly, taking the seat opposite Dean. She looked up at me. A flash of something—was it triumph?—crossed her eyes before melting into a look of fragile vulnerability. “Avery, I hear you and Dean checked out the condo today? I’m so jealous,” she sighed, her voice soft. “When Rhys and I got married, we barely had a proper studio apartment…” At the mention of her deceased husband, her eyes immediately welled up. Dean set his fork down. His voice was gentle, laced with concern. “Willa, don’t think about those painful things. Your brother-in-law is here to take care of you now.” I looked down and sipped my water, a perfect outsider. A year ago, I would have slammed my hand on the table and demanded to know whose fiancé he actually was. Now, the desire to even fight was gone. Mrs. Walker quickly intervened. “Eat, everyone, the food is getting cold.” Dean carefully placed a piece of de-boned fish into Willa’s bowl. “You’re hurt, Willa. Fish is good for healing.” She offered a breathy thank you, her gaze flickering subtly toward my face. I took a bite of my short rib, chewing slowly. It tasted overwhelmingly bitter. Finished with the fish, Dean wiped his fingers on a napkin and, without looking up, scooped a chunk of kiwi from Willa’s salad bowl and dropped it onto my plate. The piece was still glistening with fish broth residue. “Avery, you should have some fruit. Vitamins.” I stared at the chunk of kiwi. I am severely allergic to kiwi. Even a trace of it can swell my throat shut. He knew this. He had sat with me in the ER while I was on an IV drip, but he had clearly never cared enough to remember. Before, I would have pushed the plate away, my eyes burning with tears as I launched into a tearful accusation of his neglect. Now, I simply pushed the dangerous piece of fruit to the far edge of my bread plate. “I’m finished.” I put down my napkin and stood up. “Mrs. Walker, I have a headache. I’ll go rest in the guest room.” Mrs. Walker looked surprised, but nodded quickly. “Of course, dear, the linens are all fresh.” As I walked up the stairs, I heard Willa’s soft voice drift up from below. “Dean, this soup is so hot, I can’t hold the bowl steady…” “Don’t move. I’ll feed you.” My foot paused momentarily on the step, but I didn’t turn back. The intimate, bantering tones from downstairs pricked like fine needles on a heart already gone numb. After dinner, I came downstairs, my handbag in hand, ready to leave. Dean was on the sofa with Willa, watching a reality show. He looked up, a slight frown marking his face. “You’re leaving this late?” “I have an early closing at the firm tomorrow,” I said, my tone flat. “I’ll drive you.” He started to reach for his keys. “Don’t bother. I called a ride-share.” “Avery,” he stood up abruptly, his voice tinged with irritation. “What is your problem? You’ve been impossible since the condo viewing.” I met his eyes. My mind was finally crystal clear. “Nothing is wrong. I just saw things clearly.” “What things?” “That you don’t have me in your heart.” He stiffened, his gaze darting away. “Stop being dramatic.” “You know whether I’m dramatic or not.” I gave a shallow, detached smile. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want you, either.” I pushed the front door open and stepped out. I heard his quick footsteps behind me, but I didn’t pause. Just as I reached the edge of the circular drive, I heard Willa’s panicked, choked voice ring out. “Dean, please don’t leave! My ankle is throbbing! I think the bone shifted…” The sound of his footsteps instantly stopped. The crisp autumn air was sharp, and it quickly dried the sudden wetness at the corners of my eyes. I settled into the ride-share. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Little fight with the boyfriend?” I shook my head, gazing out at the blur of city lights. “No. Just refusing to play the supporting role anymore.” Back at my apartment, I pulled out my old phone and scrolled through five-year-old text messages. Back then, Dean was an idealistic intern doctor, barely scraping by, and his eyes were only on me. I scrolled through the silent slide show of old photos. The year of the flash flood. I was stranded outside my office building, soaking wet. He gave me his only raincoat, got completely drenched himself, but laughed with a warmth that could melt anything. He was the top of his class; I was a fresh-faced attorney. We were solid. He would get up at three in the morning to make me soup when I was pulling all-nighters on a brief. I said I wanted to see the Aurora Borealis, and he saved his stipend for a year to fly me to the Arctic. He even made a solemn vow: “No matter what happens, you will always be my first choice.” I was naive enough to believe that was my forever. Then, two years ago, his brother Rhys died in a car accident, leaving Willa a widow. I knew Willa was their childhood friend, the quiet benchmark of perfection they both looked up to. Dean said he had to be “like a father” to Willa, fulfilling his duty to his brother. But somewhere along the line, his phone wallpaper changed to a family photo with Willa dead center. He forgot my birthday, but remembered the exact date of Willa’s cat’s neutering surgery. When I was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy, his reply was a one-word text: Busy. I found out later that night, Willa’s house had lost power, and he had stayed up all night with her because she was afraid of the dark. I finally understood: his devotion had only existed because Willa was married to someone else. I was the comfortable compromise. I was nothing more than a placeholder during his emotional vacancy. The sudden ring of my phone sliced through the quiet. Dean’s name flashed on the screen. I hesitated, then answered. “Be ready tomorrow. We’re going to look at furniture.” His tone was completely authoritative, as if today’s drama had never happened. “Okay.” I hung up, staring blankly at the ceiling. This, I decided, would be my last time playing my part. The next morning, Dean arrived precisely on time. His favorite jazz station was playing softly in the car, and I leaned back, resting my eyes. “How did you sleep?” he asked casually. “Fine.” He noticed my coldness, and his jaw tightened. He started to speak, but stopped himself. Mid-route, his phone rang. The ringtone was exclusive—it was Willa. The moment he answered, his expression turned instantly anxious. “Willa? What’s wrong?” A panicked scream, mixed with the sound of thunder, came through the speaker. I couldn’t make out the words, but Dean’s face went white. “Don’t panic. Lock the doors. I’m on my way!” He slammed the brakes, screeching to a halt on the shoulder of the highway, miles from any exit or town. “Avery, you need to get out and call a cab.” He didn’t even look at me. His hand was already on the door handle. I asked calmly, “A reason?” “Willa’s power went out in the storm, she has extreme nyctophobia! I have to go!” He slapped the steering wheel in his agitation. “Don’t be difficult, Avery. This is an emergency!” Watching his frantic desperation, I remembered his vow: “You will always be my first choice.” It was a worthless promise. It evaporated the moment Willa needed him. I unclipped my seatbelt, pushed the door open, and stepped out. The car sped away, disappearing into the torrential downpour. The sudden storm instantly soaked my trench coat. We were on an isolated access road; getting a cab was impossible. I pulled out my phone and sent my best friend my location. “Come get me. I’m moving out.” Forty minutes later, my friend Sloan’s SUV screeched to a halt in front of me. “Dean is an absolute bastard!” Sloan fumed, handing me a towel. “Dumping you here?!” I was toweling my soaked hair, my expression serene. “Are you really doing this?” Sloan asked anxiously through the rearview mirror. “Five years is a long time…” “Exactly. Five years is long enough. I won’t waste a sixth,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Cutting your losses is required learning for an adult.” Back at my apartment, I started packing. The lace dresses I bought to mimic Willa’s style, the expensive skincare she recommended—all of it went into black garbage bags. I looked at my reflection—no makeup, no pretense. I looked both strange and familiar. For five years, I’d tried to live as another woman’s imitation. Clearing every trace of him was liberating. At eleven that night, my phone buzzed with a text from Dean: Did you make it home? I looked at the three words, thought of his retreating taillights in the rain, and my finger hovered over the screen for a moment before I tapped the button: Block Contact. The world finally went quiet. On Monday morning, I was at my firm to finalize my resignation. I had given notice two weeks earlier; today was my last day. Dean’s hospital was only two blocks from my office. As I walked out of the building, hugging a box of personal effects, I ran straight into him. He looked terrible—dark circles under his eyes, his face etched with exhaustion. Clearly, he hadn’t slept. Dean grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. “Why did you block me?” “Let go.” “Answer me!” His voice was a dangerous, suppressed whisper of anger. “What kind of game are you playing?” “Dean, we’re finished.” He froze, as if he didn’t understand the language. “What did you say?” “I’m breaking up with you.” I repeated, pulling my hand free. “Excuse me.” “You think this is how you make me compromise?” He scoffed. “This tactic is boring, Avery. You’ll be back when you cool off.” I ignored him, stepping toward the curb. “Stop!” He lunged, blocking my path, his voice low and threatening. “Don’t push your luck.” I looked up at him, feeling nothing but profound exhaustion. “I used to care if you were angry. Now, you’re just noise.” His expression solidified, as if he were seeing me for the first time. “Move. I’m in a hurry.” I hailed a passing taxi. He roared behind me, “Avery, you will regret this!” I got in the car without looking back. The window rolled up, sealing his shocked face outside. Regret? My only regret was not walking away sooner. In the afternoon, I drove to Dean’s hospital. Not for a reunion, but to return his apartment key and parking pass. The nurses at the front desk all recognized me, and I walked directly to his Chief of Staff office. I pushed the door open, and there was Willa, sitting in Dean’s executive chair, idly fiddling with his fountain pen. The cream cashmere sweater she wore made her look elegant and demure. When she saw me, a hint of a victorious smile touched her lips. “Avery? Looking for Dean? He’s on rounds. Do you want to wait?” “No. Just here to drop something off.” I placed the key and pass on the desk. She rose and walked toward me, her voice soft and conspiratorial. “I heard you two booked The Celeste Ballroom at The Observatory for the wedding? The ceiling is stunning.” She paused, a calculating glint in her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to hold a charity memorial for Rhys there, but their schedule is impossible…” “And?” “Well,” she bit her lower lip delicately. “Do you think if I asked Dean, he would give me the date?” I smiled, a cold, empty gesture. “You can try.” She was visibly thrown by my calmness. The door burst open, and Dean strode in. He frowned when he saw us. “What are you doing here?” “Returning the key. Now we’re even.” “Wait,” he stopped me, then turned to Willa. “Willa, can you step out for a minute? I need to talk to her.” Willa nodded sweetly. As she passed, she gently tugged his sleeve. “Dean, the venue I mentioned…” “I heard you. We’ll talk about it later.” His tone was slightly impatient, but he didn’t refuse her. After she left, the air felt thick and heavy. Dean walked up to me, his voice softening. “Avery, stop throwing a tantrum. Let’s talk this out.” “There’s nothing to discuss.” I turned to leave. “Stay right there!” He blocked the doorway. “We are going to finish this conversation now.” I looked up at him, utterly drained. “Dean, I’m tired.” “You’re tired? Go home and rest, don’t cause a scene here.” “Not physically tired,” I pointed to my chest. “Here.” He was momentarily stunned. “For five years, I tried to be the woman you wanted. I wore the clothes you liked, ate the food you preferred—all just to get a single genuine look from you.” “Avery…” “But I understand now,” I cut him off. “You don’t love me. I was just the substitute you settled for while she wasn’t available.” “That is absolute nonsense!” He was genuinely angered now. “Haven’t I treated you well? You have my bank cards, the condo is in your name, what more do you want?” I laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. My eyes stung. “Yes, you gave me a lot. Everything but your love.” “Avery, don’t do this!” He softened his tone, reaching for me. “Avery, please believe me, I do love you. But Rhys is only two years gone, and Willa is suffering. I’m just trying to take care of her for my brother.” He stopped, then continued, his focus instantly shifting. “By the way, Willa said she really needs that Celeste Ballroom date for the memorial. It’s vital for her healing. Could we maybe postpone our wedding for a few months? Or switch venues?” I stared at him, suddenly feeling a chilling sense of disbelief and deep irony. “What did you say?” “The wedding is just a ceremony. Our relationship doesn’t need a spectacle to prove itself. Besides, we’re family. Willa’s needs are our family’s needs. Be reasonable.” I looked at him for a long time, until he dropped his gaze, unable to meet mine. “Fine,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Give it all to her.” Dean let out a relieved breath and smiled. “I knew you would understand. After the memorial is over, we can—” “The venue, the wedding cancellation, and you. I’m giving all of it to her.”

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The entire Kingston family can hear my thoughts. I, Dr. Avery Stone, the country’s top forensic pathologist, was finally brought back to the Kingston estate. They looked at my face, but recoiled from the lingering scent of formalin and disinfectant that clung to my lab scrubs. My adopted sister, Seraphina, glided over in a twenty-thousand-dollar designer gown, her voice dripping with frail concern. “Oh, Avery,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Daddy bought you so many new clothes. You should really change out of those. They look… unlucky.” I gave her a long, cold look. [A ‘mean girl,’ huh? Too bad the last one who tried this act on me ended up as a skull fragment soaking in a jar on my specimen shelf, her cranium neatly opened. On second thought, she’s not even worth the dissection. Not even worth the gloves.] A crash! My father, Arthur Kingston, president and CEO, shattered his prized hand-thrown ceramic mug on the marble floor. My older brother, Liam, a cardiac surgeon, sprang off the sofa, his face a sickening shade of purple. He pointed a trembling finger at me. [What is he staring at? I hear he’s a doctor, too. Maybe I should send a referral for him to my lab sometime.] My mother, Eleanor, simply rolled her eyes back and collapsed onto the Persian rug. The three of them looked like they were seconds away from collapsing entirely. 1 My mother came to after someone administered smelling salts. The moment she saw me, her entire body began to shake uncontrollably. Liam braced himself against the wall just to stay standing. Seraphina drifted toward me, her hand outstretched, trying to take mine. I subtly shifted, making her miss. She pulled her hand back, the perfect, fragile expression fixed in place. “I’ve already finished decorating your room, sister. Come see if you like it.” I followed her, glancing into the room. It was done up in a cloying pink, the height of teenage-girl style, right next door to hers. The air hung heavy with a sickly sweet perfume. I frowned, the scent catching the back of my throat. “I won’t be staying here. I don’t like the aesthetic.” Liam was about to launch into a lecture about my ingratitude when my internal voice cut him short. [Bubblegum pink? The cleanup would be a nightmare. Pink shows bloodstains too clearly. No, I need something discreet. The storage room downstairs is better. No windows, far from their rooms. Much less chance of a scent complaint when I get a late-night delivery.] Liam’s flushed face instantly turned chalk-white. My father, Arthur, his voice a ragged whisper, finally spoke. “Then… then you’ll take the storage room for now. I’ll have the staff clean it out…” I cut him off again. “Don’t bother. I’ll do it myself. Just make sure the plumbing is good for a separate shower stall.” [And the drainage system needs to be reliable. I don’t want to block the pipes when I’m flushing out tissue fragments. That would be messy.] My father squeezed his eyes shut and swayed slightly, barely managing to nod his consent. Seraphina didn’t notice the others’ bizarre reaction. A flicker of triumph crossed her eyes; she thought I was being deliberately exiled to the damp, musty storage closet for irritating her parents. I ignored them all and headed straight for the storage room tucked away on the first floor. I shoved the door open. A rush of old mildew and damp dust hit me. I tapped the wall with satisfaction. [Decent insulation. The sound of the bone saw shouldn’t bother them while they sleep.] Just outside the door, my mother, who Liam had managed to steady, heard that last thought. Her eyes rolled back for the second time, and she fainted again, crumpling without a sound. The atmosphere at dinner was as dead as a morgue. The long dining table was laden with expensive cuisine, yet no one dared to touch a fork. The family sat stiffly, perfectly upright. A crime report played on the large plasma screen. “…Earlier today, police discovered the remains of a dismembered male body in the suburbs. The brutality of the act suggests an extremely disturbed perpetrator. Police are pursuing all leads…” The image on the screen was heavily pixelated, but the scattered outline was still unsettling. Seraphina dramatically covered her eyes, leaning weakly against my mother. “Oh, it’s just so awful. The criminals these days are so cruel.” I stared at the screen, my brow furrowed in concentration. [Oh. This is my guy. They’re only releasing the news now? The Bureau’s internal comms are moving faster than the local precinct on this one.] [Poor bastard. I remember his file. He suffered. They put him on a stimulant cocktail. Kept him conscious, start to finish. He watched himself being fileted, piece by agonizing piece.] Liam, the surgeon, could clearly picture the horrific scene. His stomach churned. He shoved his chair back, rushed to the restroom, and began to retch violently. Startled by the noise, my mother’s head snapped sideways, and she fainted for the third time that day. Chaos erupted. Seraphina, confused, looked around, wondering why her family had suddenly developed such a weak constitution that a news report could send them into hysterics. My father, Arthur, desperately tried to maintain composure. He was shaking as he reached for a glass of water to calm his nerves. At that exact moment, a loud, piercing wail of a siren cut through the dead silence of the room. “Wee-ooo! Wee-ooo!” The entire family, including Liam, who had just stumbled out of the restroom, jumped in terrified unison. I calmly pulled my phone from my pocket. “My call,” I explained. Arthur’s mind was instantly a storm of panic. He was convinced I had chosen a police siren as a ringtone to brazenly mock law enforcement. Oblivious to his internal meltdown, I answered the call. “Hello? What’s the situation?” “Yes, a new assignment?” I listened, my face tightening. “Blunt force trauma to the skull? Got it. I’m on my way. Keep the scene contained.” I hung up, dabbed my lips with a napkin, and stood up. “Stop right there!” My father slammed his hand on the table, springing up with a jolt. “Avery! Where are you going this late? I’ll give you money! Any amount you want! Just… just stop doing this!” The last part was a plea. [Give me money? This isn’t about money. The Bureau gave me an assignment. If I don’t go, someone else will get the material. The good material.] Arthur’s anger instantly froze, replaced by an expression of pure, deep despair. He and Liam exchanged a look, blood draining from both their faces. “She… she has an accomplice,” Liam stammered. My father collapsed back into his chair, defeated. I simply found their reaction baffling, turned, and walked out. This assignment was particularly grim. One body was a high-fall from a skyscraper, impacting a glass canopy on the way down. The other was a highly decomposed, “bloated man” submerged in water for too long. It was well past midnight when I finally finished processing the two bodies. A thunderstorm raged outside, the rain hammering against the windshield as I drove my SUV, exhaustion heavy in my limbs, back to the Kingston villa. The lights were blazing in the living room. The moment I opened the door, a wave of formalin mixed with the faint, metallic aroma of decomposition instantly overwhelmed the room’s subtle, expensive air fresheners. The Kingston family was assembled, sitting bolt upright on the sofa, clearly waiting for me. Seraphina saw me, immediately clamped a hand over her nose, and a flash of undisguised disgust crossed her eyes. In the next breath, she plastered on an expression of worried concern and rushed over. “Avery, where were you so late? And that smell! What is that smell?” Before I could answer, she reached out to grab the large, metal evidence box I was carrying. “Let me take that for you, sister. You look so tired.” Her movement was quick and aggressive. Before I could stop her, she had it. Then, she took a tiny, seemingly “unintentional” stumble. “Ah!” CRASH! The metal evidence box landed with a sickening clang on the polished marble floor. The heavy-duty latches sprung open, and several organs preserved in formalin tumbled out. A length of wet, glistening intestine, still bearing the trace of the body’s last meal, plopped onto the fine area rug. “I’m so sorry, sister, I didn’t mean to…” The words died in Seraphina’s throat. The moment she registered what was scattered across the floor, her beautiful face turned paper-white. Her stomach heaved, and she bent over, vomiting instantly onto the marble. [You wanted to play games. You wanted to see. Now look. I wasn’t going to open the box, but you just had to be nosy.] [Since you enjoy the view so much… I’ll have to figure out what to do with all of you now.] I calmly slipped on a pair of latex gloves from my pocket, knelt down, and picked up the slick length of intestine from the rug. I straightened, walked over to the retching Seraphina, and brought the organ right up to her face. “You wanted to see?” She lifted her horrified eyes to mine, saw the grotesque object inches from her nose, and promptly pitched forward, unconscious. [Such a coward. Don’t start what you can’t finish.] Holding the intestine, I slowly turned. CRACK! A flash of lightning illuminated the night sky, and the massive chandelier above the living room flickered violently. In the stark, stuttering light, my father, my mother, and my brother saw me: Dr. Avery Stone, standing over the inert body of Seraphina, holding a human intestine. The scene was pure, unadulterated horror. They didn’t even manage to scream. Their terror wasn’t even a high-pitched shriek, just a low, guttural surrender to panic. One by one—Arthur, Eleanor, Liam—their eyes rolled back, and they crumpled to the floor, joining Seraphina. The entire Kingston living room was now a tableau of bodies. I sighed and shook my head. “Well. A family that faints together, stays together.” I spent a considerable amount of time meticulously cleaning the floor, repackaging my “treasures” back into the evidence box. Then, I dragged them, one by one, back to their respective rooms, arranging them neatly in their beds. Only after the whole family was tucked in did I return to my storage room, finally satisfied enough to sleep.

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Everyone knows crying out loud at a British funeral is disrespectful, but I let my husband’s adopted sister wail anyway. Why? Because in my past life, my husband had a distant relative who was a British noble. When he passed away, the lawyer said my husband could inherit his fortune and invited him to the funeral. His adopted sister, Chloe, insisted on tagging along to “see the world.” But really, she wanted to curry favor with the aristocrats and show off. Her plan? Cry her eyes out at the funeral to attract attention. I tried to stop her: “British nobles hate dramatic scenes at funerals. Forget the inheritance—we’ll probably get kicked out!” Chloe cried, accusing me of looking down on her and thinking she wasn’t good enough to mingle with nobility. She ran out of the venue and got caught in a riot, where she was accidentally shot and killed. I thought my husband would be devastated. Instead, he silently attended the funeral and inherited the fortune. Six months later, on our anniversary, he took me to a snowy mountain for a photoshoot. The moment we got up there, he stuffed me into a sleeping bag and tied it shut. “If you hadn’t made a big deal out of nothing, Chloe wouldn’t have run out and gotten killed.” I was buried alive in the snow, freezing to death while my husband used the inheritance to become a CEO. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Chloe insisted on crying at the funeral. 1 “Sis, why won’t you let me cry?” “The Duke had no children. What’s wrong with me shedding a few tears for him?” Sitting in the car on the way to the funeral, hearing Chloe’s familiar whining, I realized with a jolt that I had been reborn. Chloe’s eyes were red. She hadn’t even started her performance for the Duke yet, but she was already playing the victim with me. My mother-in-law hugged her, shooting me a glare. “A noble’s funeral is full of important people! What’s wrong with a little crying?” “Maybe someone will see her kind heart and a rich suitor will come knocking!” Seeing she had backup, Chloe stopped hiding her intentions. She checked her eyeshadow in the mirror. “I’ve been practicing my makeup for a month. Today, I’ll look so pitiful and beautiful when I cry!” “Sis is just jealous because I’m young and pretty. She’s afraid I’ll outshine her in front of the nobles!” Yeah, Chloe had been preparing for this day for a long time. She spent a fortune at top beauty salons and even took acting classes to learn how to cry beautifully. I sneered, my eyes full of mockery. “You’re going to a funeral, not a speed dating event!” “Dressed like that? Are you afraid people won’t realize you’re fishing for a man?” Chloe looked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She started sobbing. “I researched the Duke’s life! I hired a writer for my eulogy and memorized it!” “Is it so bad to let the Duke know he has family from abroad who cares? You just look down on me!” My husband, Ryan, chimed in impatiently. “Nancy, what is wrong with you! It’s not enough to cause trouble at home, you have to embarrass us abroad too?” “Chloe put so much effort into this. Maybe she’ll make us look good! And you? What do you do besides pick fights?” Ryan had always been like this. He spoiled his adopted sister and always assumed I was bullying her. No matter how ridiculous Chloe acted, he never disciplined her. Instead, he forced me to cater to her. In my past life, I emphasized that wailing at a British noble’s funeral was highly disrespectful. My father-in-law needed money for surgery. The inheritance was our only hope. If we disturbed the peace of the deceased and annoyed the guests, forget the money—we’d be thrown out! But Chloe was stubborn. She insisted on crying. When I couldn’t persuade her, I physically covered her mouth to stop her. Chloe was furious. She ran out crying and was killed in a riot. Ryan got the inheritance, but he blamed me for Chloe’s death and pushed me off a snowy mountain! This time, I was going to watch Chloe dig her own grave. She could cry all she wanted. If Ryan didn’t get the inheritance today, his father wouldn’t have money for surgery. Then they’d really have a funeral to cry at! 2 After we entered, a server noticed we were foreigners and explained the funeral procedures, adding a reminder: “According to British aristocratic custom, loud crying is not permitted at the funeral…” As soon as the server left, Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Hmph, she’s just jealous because I’m prettier than her. She’s afraid her master will like me!” My mother-in-law nodded eagerly. “Those women serving nobles… they’re all scheming!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Chloe was way too confident. Did she really think she was beautiful enough to make every woman in the world jealous? Seeing me laugh, she seemed to realize something. “You were chatting so happily with that server. Did you bribe her?” “Just to stop me from crying? You really went to a lot of trouble!” Ryan yelled at me too. “Nancy, behave yourself! Prince Charles is attending today!” “If you mess up my inheritance, I won’t forgive you!” Hearing “Prince,” Chloe’s eyes lit up. My mother-in-law warned me, “Nancy, don’t cause trouble! If you ruin my chance to be a Prince’s mother-in-law, I’ll make Ryan divorce you!” I found it hilarious. Did they really think Chloe had a shot? One look and Prince Charles would fall for her? Knowing royalty was present, she still dared to use a funeral to hook a man! I waited for the inevitable disaster. As more guests arrived, Chloe approached every eligible bachelor to shake hands. Using her broken English accent, she tried to charm everyone. Suddenly, she clutched her chest, pretending to be short of breath, and turned to me. “Sis, go to the car and get my spray. I’m afraid I’ll hyperventilate later.” Heh, she needed to prep her throat for the wailing. I went to the car without thinking. But as soon as I got in, my hands and feet were tied. Bang! The door locked. Chloe looked at me through the window with disdain. “You kept stopping me because you’re afraid I’ll marry a noble and be better than you?” My mother-in-law gave me a cold look. “You’re married and washed up. Today, there are so many young talents for our Chloe to choose from!” Seeing Ryan standing there doing nothing, I glared at him. “You’re letting them lock me in here? It’s hot! Do you want to suffocate me?” He frowned, scolding me impatiently. “Stop playing the victim. I’m tired of you competing with Chloe!” “Stay in the car until the funeral is over!” He turned and left. Chloe was still fixing her makeup in the side mirror. Watching her cake on the powder, I couldn’t help but sneer. “Put on any more powder, and people will think it’s your funeral!” She frowned, then smirked. “Sis, you should be hoping I catch a rich husband.” “If I don’t find a good one, I wouldn’t mind stealing my brother!” Heh. Since Ryan pushed me off that mountain, I saw through his sick feelings for Chloe. Blaming me for her death, killing me… On the surface, he was my husband. deep down, he only cared about his adopted sister. I looked at her and smiled. “Steal him? I don’t want that trash anymore. He’s yours!” 3 Once the funeral started, Chloe began reciting her eulogy. At first, it was just soft sobbing, but soon it escalated to uncontrollable weeping. People around her stared, but Chloe didn’t notice. She thought their shocked looks meant they were moved by her grief. A gentleman handed her a handkerchief as she stepped down. Chloe’s eyes lit up, thinking he was hitting on her. Her crying got even louder, tears streaming down her face. The woman next to the gentleman sneered and poked her. “You’re from abroad, so maybe you don’t know our rules.” “But at a solemn occasion like this, who are you performing for?” Chloe assumed the woman was jealous and immediately snapped back. “You’re not sad about the Duke’s death, so you think tears are worthless!” “You’re cold-blooded! You have no right to teach me rules!” After her retort, Chloe realized that her crying worked! It attracted a man and made a noblewoman jealous! She was convinced her plan was working. She grabbed my mother-in-law and they started wailing together, louder than a street vendor. The guests frowned. Afraid of trouble, someone asked the priest to intervene. They thought maybe he could explain the customs to this foreign woman. But just as the priest raised his hand to comfort Chloe… She looked up, saw an old man, and shoved him away. The priest’s face darkened at the rude gesture. He warned sternly: “Stop crying! Our noble funerals require quiet mourning!” “This behavior is disrespectful to the deceased!” Chloe decided this old man was just picking on her because he couldn’t take advantage of her! She snapped: “God teaches compassion, but you cling to these dusty old rules!” “Not letting people cry? Why suppress human nature?” The priest was stunned speechless by her logic. Seeing everyone looking at her, Chloe felt triumphant. She thought her unique perspective and eloquence had impressed the crowd! As for the unfriendly looks? Just jealous women! She whispered to Ryan: “Bro, cry! See? Everyone admires me!” “Don’t you want to meet nobles? This is your chance!” Hearing there was profit to be made, Ryan started wailing like his parents had died. At that moment, I was standing on the second floor, having been rescued by a noble. I watched Chloe and the family put on their show. Those idiots were crying so hard they didn’t see the noble’s face on the balcony turning black with rage. The real show was just beginning! 4 The wailing made it impossible to proceed with the ceremony. The Duke’s head housekeeper couldn’t take it anymore. She approached Chloe. “Miss, you didn’t know the Duke, so you don’t understand him.” “I served him for forty years. In his later years, he always said he hated crying and performative grief at funerals.” Chloe assumed the woman was just a bitter servant who didn’t get any inheritance. “Some people serve for forty years just for a paycheck. No status, no name. What do you know about the Duke’s suffering?” “The Duke died alone, and you, who were with him for forty years, are so cold-hearted?” Her words were like a knife, making the housekeeper’s eyes red. Unable to contain her grief, the housekeeper turned to leave. I saw this and chased after her to comfort her. Chloe saw me and yelled: “Why are you everywhere? Escaped already?” “Sucking up to a servant? What good will that do you?” I glared at her with contempt. Chloe had the nerve to say she knew the Duke’s life? She didn’t know that this housekeeper was the person the Duke respected most. She was the first in line for the inheritance, but she remembered the Duke’s kindness. Thinking she was too old, she declined the inheritance, leaving it for those who needed it more. And yet, Chloe dared to insult her publicly? Once the housekeeper left, Chloe saw no more obstacles. She waved Ryan and her mom away. She knelt and hugged the Duke’s coffin, crying her heart out. She was determined to make sure Prince Charles saw her “deep affection” the moment he walked in! Her behavior was so ugly that the lawyer who invited us panicked! “Stop howling! Prince Charles will be here any minute. He cares about etiquette!” “If he sees this, he’ll throw you out!” Chloe exploded: “You’re a lawyer, lying to the heirs?” “Using the Prince to scare us so you can steal the money?” The lawyer choked, eyes burning with anger. “You’re disrupting the funeral and disturbing the Duke’s peace, and you accuse me?” Chloe scoffed and ignored him. She looked up and saw me going upstairs with the housekeeper. She seemed to realize something. She rushed over to block me, hissing through her teeth: “So that’s it! You got all these people to stop me from crying!” “You’re afraid I’ll shine in front of Prince Charles!” I smirked, mocking her. “You look like a cat in heat. Do you think anyone wants to see you howling?” Chloe shook with rage. Her eyes darted around, and she deliberately twisted her ankle, tumbling down the stairs. Landing on her butt, she started wailing loudly, using every trick in the book. “What did I do wrong? Why do you treat me like this, Sis?” The guests’ eyes turned cold. Great. Crying wasn’t enough; now she’s playing the victim! “Are you that jealous? You had to push her here? You’ve embarrassed the Luo family!” Ryan rushed over, cursing me. Not satisfied, he slapped me hard. “Prince Charles is almost here, and you’re causing drama!” “Get out! Now!” My mother-in-law and Chloe lunged at me, dragging me towards the door. My arm hurt from their grip. “Stop!” A low shout froze everyone. The crowd parted, and the only sound was leather shoes on the floor. A man wearing a royal crest walked out. His aura silenced the room. “You violated the taboo of wailing at the altar, and now you’re using violence? I don’t think you need this inheritance.” 5 Chloe and Ryan went pale. How did they run into Prince Charles while dragging me out? Ryan panicked and stammered: “Prince Charles, you misunderstand! This woman is making a scene. We’re helping maintain order!” Prince Charles scoffed, pointing at the door. “Do you think we’re blind? You’re the ones wailing and disrupting the funeral!” “Maintain order? The ones who should leave are you mannerless people!” Not expecting such a harsh rebuke, Ryan’s face changed colors. Chloe sat on the floor, holding her ankle, tears flowing instantly. “Prince Charles, look! She pushed me! My ankle is sprained!” “She bullies me like this, and you protect her?” She thought her pitiful act would soften his heart. But Prince Charles looked at her like she was a clown. “Finished crying? Go cry outside! Our funerals do not allow wailing!” Humiliated, Chloe’s face burned. She turned to me, pointing a shaking finger. “It’s you! You’re behind this!” “You’re amazing, huh? Getting to the servers and the Prince, spreading rumors about me beforehand!” I glanced at her coldly. “I don’t have that kind of influence. You flatter me.” “You didn’t listen to advice, caused trouble, and now you blame others!” Prince Charles shouted angrily: “Silence! You were the ones wailing, you were the ones dragging her!” “Twisting the truth here? Do you think everyone is stupid?” Seeing the Prince’s dark face, Chloe panicked. “Prince Charles, we’re from another country. We didn’t know the custom forbids crying!” The noblewoman from earlier spoke up disdainfully. “Stop pretending! I just told you, and you called me cold-blooded!” “The priest warned you too, and you said he didn’t understand God’s mercy.” The lawyer stepped forward angrily. “I advised you nicely, and you accused me of trying to steal the inheritance!” “I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” Seeing everyone turning against them, I spoke up. “I told you before we came that British nobles don’t allow wailing.” “But one of you was busy chasing men, the other climbing the social ladder. Who listened?” “Now that you’re in trouble, you blame me? Have some shame!” Chloe’s eyes flashed with calculation. She started lying loudly. “Sis! You told me to cry! You said it would make people like me and help me meet nobles!” “You said ignore anyone who tries to stop me!” “Now that people are mad, you blame me? What is your problem?!” Ryan immediately backed her up. “Yes! It was all Nancy’s idea! She said she knew noble customs best!” “She told us to cry hard, said it showed respect!” My mother-in-law joined in, spitting at me. “Exactly! Don’t be fooled by her innocent look!” “It was all her idea! Punish her! It has nothing to do with my son and daughter!” I looked at this family with disgust, wishing I could slap myself. I was blind to choose this man and this rotten family! Before I could speak, Prince Charles slammed his hand on the table. “I just rescued this lady from your car! She was half dead!” “You bullied her, and now you frame her?” “Do you think I’m blind or stupid?”

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During finals week, my crush happened to sit across from me. On the surface, I was studying. Internally, I was screaming “Hubby.” [Hubby’s Adam’s apple is so big, I wanna kiss it. Speaking of big, I wonder if Hubby’s…] [Gray sweatpants really do show everything!] [Ugh, studying is torture. I just want Hubby to punish me.] What I didn’t know was that my aloof crush could hear every thought. 1 College finals week. In the library. My brain was fried from cramming. Open book— [Napoleon and Josephine.] Close book— [Napoleon married Josephine?] [Wait, wasn’t Josephine also involved with someone else? Imagine the drama back then. History is basically a soap opera.] [Ahhh, I’m going crazy! This is why I didn’t study for the first sixteen weeks, isn’t it? Too much celebrity gossip! Ugh, brain, memorize this! I really don’t want to fail!] [College wins. I didn’t even care this much about the SATs, but college finals are mandatory passing? Someone set me up.] “Tsk, who is that? Can you shut up?” Sitting opposite me, the campus heartthrob, Paxton, slammed his book on the table. He stood up slowly, frowning as he scanned the room coldly. The other students were instantly silenced, too scared to even breathe. After all, the Pei family donated five lab buildings to the school. No one messed with the eldest son of the Pei family. Being closest to him, my mind went blank for a second. [Huh? Was someone talking and disturbing Hubby? Why didn’t I hear it? Did my mental reciting bother him?] [But I was reciting in my head! I didn’t make a sound!] [Forget it, maybe I flipped the pages too loudly and annoyed Hubby’s eyes. I should move. It would be a disaster if Hubby hated me.] While thinking this, I packed my books into my bag and stood up to leave. Paxton narrowed his long, handsome eyes, glanced down at me, a flicker of darkness passing through his gaze. “Sorry, miss. I must be hallucinating from stress. Didn’t scare you, did I?” He called out to stop me. 2 I froze, shaking my head slightly. I lowered my head, face burning, not daring to speak to him, only sneaking glances. Inside, I was fangirling hard: [Ahhh! Hubby talked to me first!] [Guess Hubby wasn’t talking about me. No need to move, yay!] [Hubby looks even hotter when he’s angry (＾－＾)! Must look more while I can! Profit! Hehe.] [Good thing it’s hot today. Hubby is wearing a thin white shirt. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, huge Adam’s apple—all on display. Drool. Hubby’s Adam’s apple is so big, I wanna kiss it.] [By the way, speaking of big, I wonder if Hubby’s…] My gaze drifted downward. Paxton’s tall, lean body suddenly stiffened. A flush spread from his handsome cheeks to his ears. He grabbed the black windbreaker from the back of his chair, put it on quickly, and zipped it all the way up, covering exactly what I wanted to see, before sitting back down. Seeing this, I quickly sat down too. Afraid someone else would take the seat if I was a second late. After all, the line of girls chasing Paxton stretched from school to his villa. Don’t know what luck I had today. There were plenty of empty seats when he came in, but he chose the one opposite me. Lucky day! His roommate sitting next to him whispered: “Pax, aren’t you afraid of heatstroke bundling up like that?” Paxton stared absently at his textbook, his peripheral vision drifting towards me. His thin lips pressed into a line as he replied coolly: “Mm, AC is too cold.” My mood instantly plummeted. Mechanically taking out my books, I pretended to study while zoning out: [Boohoo, heard men are afraid of cold because of kidney deficiency. Such a pity for Hubby’s god-tier face if he’s useless.] [Wait, Hubby’s roommate is on the basketball team too. Not as hot as Hubby, but at least functional. Should I switch husbands?] [So many hot guys in the world, if this one fails, I’ll switch. As long as the new one is good enough, I’ll forget the old one~] With some regret, my gaze shifted from Paxton to his roommate. [Damn, we college girls need to look at jock pecs to survive finals week.] But before I could appreciate the view. Zip. Paxton unzipped his jacket quickly, taking it off as if urgently trying to stop something. 3 My eyes were drawn back to him. Maybe because of the heat, his pale face was now flushed like he was drunk. At the same time, his long fingers undid the buttons of his white shirt, one by one. “Eh? Pax, weren’t you cold? Why take off the jacket? And unbuttoning?” His roommate looked at him weirdly. “Honestly, you look like you’re stripping…” Paxton lifted his eyelids lazily, glancing at me imperceptibly. His lips curved slightly as he interrupted: “Felt hot with the jacket on.” A breeze blew from the window. “Achoo.” The roommate sneezed unexpectedly. “Then lend me the jacket, I’m suddenly cold.” Paxton unbuttoned slowly with one hand, throwing the jacket to him with the other, sneering: “So afraid of cold… kidney deficiency?” “Screw you.” The roommate put on the jacket and punched him. Paxton unbuttoned three buttons before stopping. Then, he picked up his pen casually and started working. But when he leaned forward, his broad, pale chest was exposed right in front of me. Below the sharp collarbones were firm, looming pecs. Combined with that alpha face, it was so hot I couldn’t look away. This face, this body, definitely better than any top idol! My heart pounded, hand trembling as I held my pen, swallowing saliva uncontrollably: [Boohoo, wanna touch Hubby’s pecs, wanna make Hubby eat me out.] [Wait, if I drop my pen on purpose and bend down to pick it up, I can peek at Hubby’s…] [No, no, isn’t that too obvious? If Hubby catches me, he’ll hate me. But I really wanna see…] Just as I was thinking this. Paxton’s hand shook, and the pen in his hand fell to the floor, rolling right to my feet. [Ahhh! God! Am I your favorite granddaughter?! You spoil me too much!] Next instant, Paxton slowly looked up at me, his eyes dark: “Um, miss, could you pick up my pen for me? Thanks.” For some reason, his usually cold, noble voice sounded inexplicably husky and deep. “O-okay.” I nodded blankly, brain fried by his beauty. Trying hard to suppress a grin, I pretended to be expressionless, bent down slowly, reached for the pen, but my eyes naughtily drifted towards a certain place. [Gray sweatpants really do show everything.] [Boohoo, finals are so hard, I’m breaking down, I want Hubby to punish me.] “Pax, I’m going to the bathroom, you coming?” The roommate nudged the upright Paxton. Paxton’s handsome lips curved up almost imperceptibly: “No, it’s… inconvenient for me to get up right now.” “Fine, I’ll go myself.” Low voices came from above the table. I snapped back to reality, grabbed the pen quickly, sat up blushing, and handed the pen to Paxton guiltily. “H-here, y-your pen.” “Mm, thanks.” Paxton reached out slowly. My hand shook, accidentally touching his cool fingertips. [I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead. What luck today, I touched Hubby’s hand!!!] [AHHHHH!!!] Dizzied, warm blood flowed from my nose unbidden. I reached out to wipe it blankly. But the more I wiped, the more it flowed. Paxton grabbed the tissue box, pulled out a few sheets, and handed them to me. “Miss, are you under too much pressure from finals?” His slightly aggressive gaze fixed on me, Adam’s apple rolling: “Do you need me to… help you relieve some stress?” Re-relieve? G-God, what kind of dirty talk is this?! I was so shocked my nosebleed stopped. Meanwhile, Paxton slipped a black-gold card into my hand, voice husky and low, carrying a hint of danger: “Miss, if you need anything, find me anytime.” Before I could react, he packed up and left without looking back. I looked down. The black-gold card was a key card for the five-star hotel near campus! My face burned instantly. Wait, does he mean what I think he means? Who started the rumor that he was abstinent?! Some people even guessed he was gay because he rejected the school beauty on the first day. Didn’t expect Paxton, who looked like a gentleman, to be so wild… The library closing bell rang abruptly. Startled, I looked up at the clock. Just past nine. What? Why is the library closing two hours early today? No time to think, I packed up messily and left. 4 Following the room number on the card, I took the hotel elevator nervously. Even my toes could guess what would happen tonight. I clutched the box of ultra-thin 0.01 XL condoms I just bought, heart racing. Wonder if this box is enough? Seven times a night… Can I handle that? Lost in thought. Before I knew it, I was at the door of the presidential suite at the end of the top floor hallway. Faint sound of running water came from inside. Paxton is showering?! Heart pounding deafeningly, I told myself to stay calm. But when swiping the card, my hand shook so much it wouldn’t open. Deep breath, ready to try again. Click. The heavy mahogany door was pulled open by a large hand. Fresh mint soap scent mixed with clear male hormones hit my face. I looked up blankly. Paxton stood there in a very open white bathrobe, leaning lazily against the cabinet. The belt was loosely tied around his lean waist. His massive pecs rose and fell slowly with his breath, making me dizzy. He looked down at me casually, grabbed a water bottle, and drank. Water droplets fell from his hair, sliding down his rolling Adam’s apple, over his defined pecs, abs, v-line, all the way down… I gulped, feet nailed to the floor. “What? Not coming in? Standing guard?” Paxton stared at me with a half-smile. I snapped back. My brain, dazed by beauty, cleared up a bit. Thinking about what comes next. I suddenly felt cowardly. Subconsciously turned to run. Us college girls are like this. Talk big game about guys, making everything sound dirty. In reality, lives as bland as water, living like nuns, zero combat experience. A pair of hot hands grabbed my wrists from behind. Turned around. Bang. Paxton slammed the door shut. One hand on the door, the other loosely around my waist: “Trying to run? Too late.” Tone flirty and mean, eyes full of aggression. I looked up at him in disbelief. Wait, isn’t the legendary ice prince supposed to be restrained? Why so wild?! “W-what do you want?” “Late at night, alone together…” He chuckled, leaning in, deep eyes locking onto my face: “What do you think I want?” Too close. His hot breath drowned me, cold mint scent overwhelming me. I stopped breathing, body stiff as ice. Paxton smirked, lifted me with one arm, and strode towards the large round table in the suite. “On, on the table? I-isn’t that bad?” My face burned. Accidentally said my thoughts out loud. He turned to look at me, his dark eyes scary hot: “Where else?” “The bed?” Choked by his bluntness, I looked away in panic. Paxton put me on a chair, opened my… backpack, and placed my textbooks on the table one by one, neatly. I looked at him confused, thoughts flying wild: [What? Why take out textbooks?] [Is this some kinky roleplay? Teacher-student play?] [As expected of him, plays hard.] [How do I cooperate?] [Boohoo, Mr. Pei, no, don’t, gentle, slow down, please Mr. Pei~] [Wow, so shameful, so exciting, I like it.] While fantasizing. A pen was shoved into my hand. Paxton pulled out a chair, sat next to me, and opened the calculus textbook slowly with his long fingers: “Miss Ning, which problem can’t you solve? Come, Mr. Pei will teach you.” Tone serious. Fantasy shattered. Wait? This kind of teacher-student play? I looked up at him in disbelief: “Y-you said relieve stress, you meant teaching me calculus?” He blinked his peach blossom eyes, looking innocent: “Yeah, what else?” “If you learn it and aren’t scared of the final, no stress, right?” Did I really think wrong? Still unwilling to give up, I questioned him logically: “Wait? Can’t teach calculus in the library?! W-why bring me to a hotel room?! A-and dressed like this?! Who teaches calculus dressed like this?!” “Library would disturb others. Just showered, what else would I wear but a bathrobe?” Paxton flicked my forehead, tone helpless: “Miss Ning, I must remind you, if you keep thinking about nonsense and don’t study, you’ll really fail.” Heh, couldn’t tell. The usually selfish Young Master Pei is quite considerate. Actually caring if I, a stranger classmate, pass calculus?! Who understands the redemption of crush turning into calculus teacher? I don’t. Calculus! Go to hell!

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The moment my foster family decided to spend a billion dollars on a knock-off Ming Dynasty tiara for Savannah, I didn’t just stand back. I signed over every dollar of the company’s liquid capital to support the purchase. In my first life, when the “real heiress” Savannah Stone attended this auction, she had been determined to make a No-Limit Bid for this same antique jewelry set. I had recognized the malicious inflation of the price and stepped in immediately, desperate to protect her. I told her the piece was a cheap replica and that I could buy her something genuinely exquisite. Savannah had taken my concern as a deliberate, humiliating lecture on her lack of taste. She ran out of the venue in a rage and was killed instantly by a car. My foster parents, Richard and Veronica Stone, and my fiancé, Preston Shaw, had held me and consoled me. It was just bad luck. It wasn’t my fault. Later, I spearheaded the Stone & Co. IPO, turning Richard and Veronica into the area’s most powerful moguls. On the day of my wedding, they and Preston kidnapped me and threw me onto a train track. My final, desperate question: Why? Their final answer, as they kicked my body toward the oncoming locomotive: “If you hadn’t deliberately humiliated Savvy that day, she wouldn’t have died. This is what you owe her.” The train crushed me. I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day of Savannah’s reckless No-Limit Bid. 1 “I’m bidding thirty million for this tiara, and I dare any of you to try and beat me.” Hearing the familiar, entitled pitch in Savannah’s voice, I looked around the opulent auction hall. The realization hit me like a physical punch. I had been reborn. “An auction is determined by the highest bidder, Savannah. Why can’t we try?” A mocking voice cut through the air. “You’ve only been back with the Stones for a month. Do you even have that kind of money? Maybe give up now.” “Fifty million. I’ve decided I want this headdress.” A wealthy socialite peered down her nose at Savannah, baiting her. Savannah’s face flushed scarlet. She surged to her feet and made the dramatic, recognized gesture of a No-Limit Bid—a declaration that she would pay any price to win. The whole room erupted into a murmur of shock and excitement. Veronica, my foster mother, tugged at Savannah’s arm, trying to look concerned. “Savvy, darling, don’t be impulsive. There are plenty of other pieces. Maybe you’ll like something else more.” Then, Veronica’s hand came down hard on my arm. “Anya Reed, are you mute? Say something! Don’t you know you should be talking sense into your sister?” The memory of the last life—of that same slap, that same condemnation—flashed in my mind. Last time, I had seen the malicious intent and the cheap replica. I had begged Savannah to stop, only to have her assume I was attacking her taste. She died. The Stones and Preston had comforted me, only to later kill me for my perceived sin. I remembered the agonizing crush of the train, the bone-deep hatred. My fists clenched, then slowly relaxed. I turned to Savannah and offered a small, cold smile. “Mom, Dad,” I said smoothly. “You’re the ones who said you wanted to compensate Savannah. You brought her here to treat her. She’s finally found something she loves. Why should we stop her?” Richard and Veronica’s faces froze in a sudden, awkward silence. “Savvy, a No-Limit Bid isn’t something you just throw around,” Veronica stammered, panicking slightly. “Let Mom buy you something else, alright?” Savannah pouted, tears welling up in a practiced, pathetic display. “Mom, it’s not for me. It’s a birthday gift for Mrs. Lewis, the head of Lewis Global.” Richard and Veronica’s eyes widened immediately. “Savvy, you… you know Vivian Lewis?” Savannah shot a triumphant, contemptuous look my way before answering. “I got an invitation to Mrs. Lewis’s birthday gala yesterday. I heard she absolutely adores this particular Ming Dynasty design. I want to give it to her to cement our relationship with the Lewis family.” Richard clapped Savannah on the shoulder, his eyes alight with avarice. “Savvy, I had no idea you had an in with Lewis Global! If they give us even a few projects, Stone & Co. will go stratospheric. Savvy, your father supports you. Make that No-Limit Bid!” Savannah’s voice had been loud, deliberately so. When word spread that Stone & Co. was trying to cozy up to Lewis Global, their corporate rivals reacted instantly. They couldn’t let the Stones gain such a massive, unassailable advantage. The price shot up. Thirty million. Fifty million. One hundred million dollars. Watching Savannah keep bidding, a cold laugh bubbled in my throat. She was already a fool for planning to spend over $100 million on a fake to impress Mrs. Lewis. But broadcasting her intentions to the entire hall? She was practically inviting every enemy Stone & Co. had to bid against her, just to deny her the connection. She was terrified of spending too little. Four or five rival companies vying for the same IPO slot as the Stones couldn’t allow them to leapfrog ahead. The bidding quickly crested the $500 million mark, with only one other competitor still holding out. An auction attendant approached the Stones’ table. “Ms. Stone, your collateral deposit has reached its limit. To continue, the deposit must be increased. Should you forfeit the bid now, you will be liable for a ten percent breach-of-contract penalty.” Savannah’s brow furrowed. “Why would I have to pay a penalty for quitting?” The attendant remained polite. “It’s the rule of the No-Limit Bid. Regardless of the price, you are obligated to purchase the item. If your funds are insufficient and you forfeit, you pay a ten percent fine on the highest bid.” Panic finally registered on Richard and Veronica’s faces. “Our total savings are five hundred million dollars at most. What are we going to do?” Richard turned to me, his voice sharp. “Anya Reed! How much money do you have left? Hand it all over to your sister now.” I blinked, feigning surprise. “Oh, I had a little incident earlier. I accidentally triggered a security lock on my main accounts. They won’t unlock for a week. We’ll just have to forfeit, I guess. We’d only be out fifty million dollars.” I held up my phone, showing them a screen displaying a generic ‘Account Frozen’ message. Savannah’s eyes turned glassy. She abruptly knelt down in front of me. “Sister, you don’t have to like me, but this tiara is the key to Lewis Global for our family. It affects the entire future of Stone & Co. Please, please help me, just this once?” Seeing Savannah on her knees, Veronica completely lost it. She raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap directly across my face. “Anya Reed, you heartless snake! You know your sister made a No-Limit Bid, and you deliberately froze your own accounts? I order you to cough up the five hundred million dollars immediately, or you are out of this house and out of the company!” Preston Shaw, my fiancé, stared at me with unconcealed disgust. “Anya, you utterly disappoint me. You usurped Savannah’s life, living in luxury for years, and now that she’s finally home, you still try to sabotage her? You are a completely ungrateful viper.” Preston’s loud accusation instantly drew all the attention in the immediate area. Everyone stared at me with strange, judgmental looks. I was suddenly the wicked step-sister, the ungrateful foster child, the vulture who wouldn’t sacrifice five hundred million. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Five hundred million? I don’t have it in my personal accounts,” I admitted. “But there is another way.” Savannah, thinking I had yielded, looked up at me with open condescension. “Then if you have a way, Sister, hurry up and use it! Don’t waste everyone’s time.” Preston glared at me. “Anya, you need to learn from Savannah. Your character makes you unworthy of being my wife. If only Savannah hadn’t been lost all those years ago…” I cut him off, my voice steady. “Don’t feel sad. I’ll make it easy for you.” I reached into my bag and produced two sets of legal documents that I had prepared earlier—the severance papers, formally dissolving my ties to the Stones. I handed them to my foster parents. “Sign these two agreements, and I’ll tell you the solution for the other five hundred million.” Richard and Veronica stared, momentarily stunned. “Anya Reed, you want to cut ties with us? Have you lost your mind?” I smiled, a cold, empty expression aimed only at them. “A month ago, when Savannah returned, you pressured me to change my surname to make her feel secure. That was the moment you declared yourselves a complete family. I’m simply making my exit. From now on, I have no connection to the Stone family.” Richard and Veronica launched into a tirade, calling me ungrateful, ruthless, and saying they wasted twenty years raising me. Savannah, teary and pitiful, spoke up. “Sister, please. Every mistake is mine. Don’t be angry with Mom and Dad. If you hate me so much, I’ll leave the house immediately. I won’t bother you anymore.” Veronica pulled Savannah into a tight embrace. “Savvy, you are my own blood daughter! You are not the one who needs to leave.” Seeing Savannah’s manipulative vulnerability, Richard, who had been wavering, snatched the severance papers from my hand. He and Veronica signed them both, one after the other. “Anya Reed, you are going to regret this day,” Richard hissed. Ignoring him, I pulled out a separate corporate bank card and passed it over. “This card has the five hundred million. It’s the total liquid capital for all of Stone & Co.’s ongoing projects. Use it, and the company’s financial chain will break. The method is yours. Whether you use it or not is your business.” Richard had a flicker of sanity left. “No! Breaking the financial chain puts the company at massive risk!” Savannah snatched the card before he could finish. “Dad, it’s only temporary! With Lewis Global’s support, the IPO will be a cinch!” She shoved the card into the attendant’s hand. “I bid one billion dollars! This tiara is mine.” At the doubled price, the other bidder withdrew immediately. The auctioneer slammed the gavel three times, declaring Savannah the winner. The attendant delivered the headdress. Savannah looked at me, her eyes brimming with victorious malice. “Sister, to facilitate our upcoming partnership with Lewis Global, I’m going to take over as CEO. You can be my personal secretary and assist me.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She spent a billion on a fake tiara and thought it was enough to usurp my entire life’s work. Preston grabbed my arm, annoyed. “Anya Reed, as Savannah’s secretary, you need to take care of her. She hates onions and cilantro in her food. Her clothes must be hand-washed. You need to organize her daily schedule by 5 AM. And try not to bother her with business you can handle yourself.” I rolled my eyes, utterly exasperated. “I’m a secretary? Sounds more like I’m supposed to be her mother.” Preston’s face hardened. “Anya, don’t tell me you’re jealous of the CEO title? Don’t forget, Savannah is the real Stone heiress. You’ve been squatting here for years. Are you going to keep monopolizing the company?” I scoffed. “I resign. I’m walking away from the company. From this moment forward, Stone & Co. and the Stone family are irrelevant to me.” Savannah’s eyes lit up. “Sister, the company is about to go public! Are you really going to quit?” I curved my lips into a thin smile. “I’ll be watching your IPO. With great interest.” Preston glowered, warning me. “Anya Reed, don’t try to play hard to get. You’ll regret this.” I finally lost my composure. “Play your mother’s head,” I snapped. Preston shot to his feet, ready to argue, but a sudden commotion broke out in the room. “Mrs. Lewis is here!” “Vivian Lewis looks like she’s looking for someone.” My phone vibrated with a text message. “Darling, I heard you were at the auction. I’m passing by, I’ll pick you up. —Mom.” The Stones still had no idea I had reunited with my biological mother, Vivian Lewis, a year ago. Vivian spotted me and started walking toward me. As I stood up, Savannah suddenly lunged. She violently shoved me, sending me tumbling over the few stairs and crashing hard onto the floor. Savannah rushed past me toward my mother. “Mrs. Lewis, hello! I’m Savannah Stone.” Vivian Lewis’s expression was cold. She stopped and gave Savannah a sharp, head-to-toe appraisal. The next second, Vivian raised her hand and delivered a stunning, loud slap to Savannah’s face. She then roughly pushed Savannah aside and hurried toward me. “Savannah, is this the kind of manners the Stone family taught you? Laying hands on people?” Vivian helped me up from the floor. Preston rushed to Savannah’s side, his eyes full of anguish for the ‘victim.’ “Mrs. Lewis, there must be a misunderstanding! Savannah isn’t like that. Anya Reed is always causing trouble. You should know, Anya is conniving, shallow, and—” Vivian spun around, fixing him with a look so icy it stopped Preston’s tirade mid-sentence. Richard and Veronica also rushed over. They glanced at Savannah, then Richard’s hand shot out, slapping me across the face. “Anya Reed, you ungrateful wretch! You stole Savannah’s life for so long, and now that she’s home, you still sabotage her and try to slander her? Have you no shame at all?” Vivian Lewis’s face went crimson with pure, hot rage. “Are you blind? Savannah clearly shoved Anya! And you stand there and completely twist the truth and abuse my daughter? Is this how you’ve been bullying my child all these years?”

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My wife, a renowned medical expert, was celebrating her childhood sweetheart’s birthday—a lavish cruise along the New England coast—the night our son was food poisoned. In a past life, I had forced her to come home to save him. Her ‘sweetheart,’ Lincoln Reed, went out on his yacht alone, got drunk, and drowned. She didn’t blame me immediately. We remained a loving couple, at least on the surface. She just put a slow-acting poison in my dinner and watched me die, my internal organs failing. Her eyes were raw, scarlet with pure hatred. “Do you know how much Lincoln suffered down there, Rhys?” she had hissed. “Now, you try the taste of death.” I woke up again on that very night, the night Owen was poisoned. This time, I didn’t make her come home. When she finally saw his little body, she went mad. 1 “Mr. Sullivan, it’s terrible! Little Owen ate something bad. He’s throwing up violently, he has awful diarrhea, and now he’s unconscious!” Owen’s nanny, Martha, burst into my study, distraught and weeping. I clenched my fists. I was back. Owen was alive, the night hadn’t fully descended, and there was still time. Owen wasn’t my biological son; he was the posthumous child of my wife, Delaney Shaw’s, older brother. Her sister-in-law died from postpartum hemorrhage after giving birth. I felt compassion for a boy born without parents and agreed with Delaney to adopt him. We both treated him like our own son. Hearing he was poisoned, I shot up. “Call Dr. Lewis immediately for a detox protocol. Prep the car. I’ll go get Delaney myself.” Delaney was the head of the Emergency Department at Seattle General, a specialist in toxicology and detox. She had warned me repeatedly that her work phone was off during her shift, and I was absolutely forbidden from calling or disturbing her work. I knew tonight was Lincoln’s birthday party—an elaborate cruise on the Sound she’d promised to attend. If I dragged her away, I’d ruin her ‘fun.’ But if I didn’t tell her, she would hold it against me forever. My car stopped abruptly outside the hospital entrance just as Delaney walked out, ending her shift. She frowned, seeing me rush out of the car, my face etched with urgency. “I told you I wasn’t coming home tonight, Rhys. It’s Lincoln’s birthday, and I promised to go out on the yacht. Don’t tell me you forgot.” Her voice was tight with annoyance. Parked beside the curb was a sleek, black Range Rover. I didn’t need to ask; it was Lincoln Reed’s car, waiting for her. Lincoln was Delaney’s childhood sweetheart. Years ago, his family had scorned Delaney—a mere junior doctor with no visible prospects—and forced him to marry the daughter of a tech billionaire. Tragically, his wife died in an accident a year later, and Lincoln, the ‘Golden Boy,’ returned to Seattle. Delaney immediately began making frequent trips to his sprawling estate. “Lincoln is back, and he has severe depression,” she’d tell me. “I’m a doctor; I’m just going to check on him, prescribe some medication. He’ll be fine soon.” “Why are you always so paranoid? I was just helping Lincoln as his doctor. I stayed one night at his house. Why do you make such a big deal out of everything?” she’d snapped at me. “If I wanted to be with Lincoln, I would have married him. Why would I have married you?” In her eyes, I was the villain, the obstacle to her and Lincoln. In the last life, I had countless fights with Delaney over him. This time, I didn’t care about our marriage. I stood squarely in front of her, meeting her eyes. “Delaney, it’s Owen. He was poisoned. He ate those artisanal treats Lincoln sent over yesterday. He’s been vomiting and seizing. Our doctor fears it’s a severe toxin and needs you to come look at him. He’s so small, he can’t handle this.” Delaney looked at me with pure disbelief. “Rhys Sullivan, are you insane? You’re making up a story about our son being poisoned just to stop me from going out with Lincoln? Because I have a specialty in toxicology, you think this is a clever lie?” “How could you be so cruel? How dare you pretend to be his father.”

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Mom has a best friend who, to this day, has never married. I once naively asked my mother, “Why doesn’t Aunt Brenda ever get married?” Mom smiled, booping my little nose. “Because your Aunt Brenda has incredibly high standards. She doesn’t think anyone is good enough.” I casually replied, “I wonder who could possibly meet such high standards?” I didn’t get it until one day, while I was out shopping with friends. I watched Aunt Brenda, looking all dramatic and fragile, holding hands with a man as they walked into a boutique hotel. That’s when it hit me. “So, her standards are so high because she had her eyes on my dad.” 1 That night, I was lounging on the couch playing Candy Crush on my mom’s phone. A text message flashed across the top of the screen: “Accidentally got some lipstick on your hubby’s collar. Make sure to wash it.” “Mom! Why isn’t Dad home yet?” “Let’s just lock the deadbolt and leave him outside!” I shouted toward the kitchen while swiping left to delete the message. “Chloe! Watch your mouth,” Mom called back, spatula in hand. “How can you lock your father out? You little ingrate.” “Your father works himself to death to make money for you!” Looking at my mom—defending the man who was currently betraying her—I shook my head helplessly. “Yeah, yeah. Your husband is the hardest worker.” “Best man in the world. Thanks for finding me such a great dad.” “That’s more like it.” Mom looked satisfied and marched back to her battlefield in the kitchen. I looked at her. She was nearly forty but still had the innocence of a teenage girl. I sighed. How could someone this pure ever compete with a white lotus like Brenda? Just as I was about to lose my temper for the third time, the front door opened. “Honey! You’re finally back! It’s our baby girl’s twentieth birthday!” “If you were any later, she was going to tear the house down!” Mom practically skipped to the door, taking his briefcase and pouting like a newlywed. Dad chuckled, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and walked over to me. “Oh no, is our Princess upset? What are we going to do?” “Blame Daddy. If I hadn’t flown to LA to pick up your gift personally, I wouldn’t be late.” “Look at that pout. You could hang a coat hanger on it.” I narrowed my eyes at him. It wasn’t until he pulled the keys to a Mercedes G-Wagon out of his pocket that I let out a dry laugh. “Truly a model father and husband.” Even when he goes out to buy his daughter a gift, he doesn’t forget to take his side-piece along for the ride. The internet is right: When men cheat, they become master time managers. Dad beamed, thinking I was genuinely praising him. “Come on, let’s eat. Let’s celebrate my daughter entering her twenties.” At the dinner table, I raised my glass. I stared at his crisp, white collar. When I leaned in, I could smell the faint scent of hotel shower gel. So he went back to the hotel after landing? That’s why he was late. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Then, the doorbell rang. “Oh! That must be your Aunt Brenda.” Mom tapped her forehead. “I almost forgot.” Mom rushed to the foyer and opened the door. “Hey bestie! Long time no see!” Brenda hugged my mom enthusiastically, just like always. But her eyes were darting back and forth between me and my dad. Dad brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat awkwardly. The food tasted like wax in my mouth. “Chloe is getting prettier every day,” Brenda cooed. “Really growing into a woman.” I looked at this woman—smiling with fake kindness—and the corners of my mouth turned down. “Chloe, what’s wrong with you? Aunt Brenda is talking to you. Where are your manners?” My disgust must have been too obvious because Mom shot me a warning look. 2 Ever since I saw Dad and Brenda walking into that hotel, I couldn’t unsee it. Every time I saw them in the same room, my brain involuntarily conjured up images of them rolling around in bed sheets. I literally gagged. “Chloe? Chloe, are you okay?” I was hugging the trash can, dry heaving. Mom looked terrified. She patted my back gently. “Did you eat something weird outside again?” She immediately poured me a glass of my favorite watermelon juice. Looking at my mom’s worried face, I felt a lump in my throat. I glanced over at the two of them exchanging looks. I clenched my fists under the table. Mom and I are right here, and they’re still making eyes at each other? Do they have no respect for us? I almost screamed, “Mom, divorce him! Dad is cheating on you! Your best friend is a snake!” But I stopped myself a second before the words left my mouth. Exposing them now would be too easy. Too cheap. “Dad,” I said, composing myself. “Remember you promised that once I started college, you’d buy me a condo near campus?” “I want to move out. It’ll be easier for when I start prepping for grad school.” “After all, I’m your only daughter. I have to inherit the company one day, right?” Dad nodded happily. “Of course, of course. If my daughter wants to study hard, I support it 100%.” “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to look at condos.” Mom smiled, looking proud of my ambition. But my eyes were locked on Brenda. Sure enough, as soon as she heard “buy a condo,” her face turned green. Hah. People would think she’s the one paying for it. She gritted her teeth but forced a smile. “Richard…” “You just bought Chloe a G-Wagon. You shouldn’t spoil children like this.” “What if she gets entitled?” Mom’s expression shifted slightly. Before she could speak, I cut in. “Listen to Aunt Brenda,” I said sarcastically. “Making me sound like a delinquent.” “I’m their only child. If they don’t spend money on me, who should they spend it on?” “I was Valedictorian. I’m trying to level up so I can help Dad run the business sooner so he can retire.” “What? Does Aunt Brenda disagree with my parents buying me things?” “Strangers might think you’re the lady of the house.” The faces of the three adults changed instantly. Dad turned red. Mom gave Brenda a complicated look. Brenda, feeling the heat, went pale. She waved her hands frantically. “No, no, Chloe, you misunderstood.” “I watched you grow up. How could I not want your dad to buy you things?” “I was just worried you’d be stressed living alone. You’re young; you should enjoy life.” I sneered at her clumsy attempt to backpedal. 3 The atmosphere, once lively, was now suffocatingly awkward. For the rest of the meal, Brenda kept her head down and didn’t say a word. Dad, clearly annoyed by the tension, stopped joking around with her. I, on the other hand, felt fantastic watching them suffer. Halfway through the meal, I dropped my chopstick. As I bent down to pick it up, my eyes went wide. I saw Brenda slip her foot out of her heel and rub it against my dad’s calf. Rage shot through me. I wound up my leg and kicked her high heel as hard as I could, sending it sliding across the floor. Brenda felt her shoe vanish and panicked. Dad looked at me, terrified. Luckily, Mom was in the kitchen getting soup. When she walked back in, she didn’t see the shoe… until she tripped over it. “Ouch! Why is there a shoe here?” Mom looked down at the black stiletto in confusion. “Brenda… I told you. You can wear slippers in the house.” “I don’t get why you wear heels all day. Doesn’t it hurt?” Mom picked up the shoe and walked it over to Brenda. “Here! Don’t leave them lying around. Someone could get hurt.” I have never seen a human being turn red that fast. Brenda muttered a weak “Sorry” and glanced at me fearfully. I raised an eyebrow and smirked. That was probably the most indigestion she’s ever had at a dinner. The next morning, I dragged Dad out to buy a luxury condo right across from my university. Fully furnished. Ready to move in. Maybe it was the guilt from last night. While Mom was signing the paperwork, Dad pulled me aside. “Chloe… last night… your Aunt Brenda accidentally bumped into me.” “Don’t tell your mother. You know how she gets.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. Accidentally? Do you think I’m three? Before I could roast him, he pulled out a black credit card. “Here. You’ve been working hard. Treat yourself.” “Don’t be afraid to spend it. I make money so my two girls can spend it.” Adopting the philosophy of “take what you can get,” I snatched the card. I immediately posted a photo on Instagram: Thanks Daddy for building the empire for his past-life lover. You keep grinding, I’ll keep spending. Forever your little princess. That night, I heard Dad call Mom saying he had to work late. I scoffed. Honestly, at this point… I hated the mistress, but I hated my shameless father even more. One was my Mom’s “sister,” the other was her “soulmate.” And they were stabbing her in the back simultaneously. Mom hung up and tried calling Brenda. But surprise, surprise—no answer. “Chloe, do you think your Aunt Brenda is dating someone?” “I can’t reach her. Last week I saw a hickey on her neck.” “Hmph! She’s not a real friend. Keeping secrets from me.” I rubbed my temples, looking at my mom pouting on the sofa. 4 My mom has been pampered her whole life. She’s forty going on fourteen. Dad was a scholarship kid from a rural town. If he hadn’t met Mom, he’d probably be digging ditches. Grandma and Grandpa had foresight, though. All the family assets are in Mom’s name. They signed a prenup: If Dad cheats, he leaves with nothing. But over the years, the company grew. Dad ran the operations. Nobody knows how much money the company actually makes now. Nobody knows how much Dad has stashed away in offshore accounts. I have to take my time. One wrong move, and we lose the leverage. For the next few days, I used my “internship” as an excuse to haunt the office. I saw Brenda picking him up and dropping him off constantly. Finally, I caught them in the parking garage. “Wow, Aunt Brenda! You have so much free time,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did you apply to be Dad’s chauffeur?” “Dad kept this quiet. I need to tell Mom what a great friend you are.” I had spent the last few days digging into the company financials. Dad was cooking the books. Massive tax evasion. He was funneling money into private accounts. I glared at the man in the suit. I couldn’t believe this scum was the hero I looked up to as a child. “Chloe, honey,” Dad stammered. ” The driver is… busy.” “Your Aunt is just doing me a favor. Your Mom always says we should look out for her.” I laughed out loud. Look out for her? You’re looking out for her all the way to the bedroom. I shot a cold glare at Brenda, who was staring at her shoes, silent. I left the office and drove straight to my grandparents’ estate. They were retired now, living the good life. They never really liked Dad, but tolerated him because the business was doing well. As soon as I walked in, I collapsed into their arms and started sobbing. “Nana! Pop! What do I do? I think Dad is cheating!” They jumped up. “Baby, is that true? You can’t joke about that!” I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “Yes! I saw them!” “What if I lose my family? What if Dad gives all the money to someone else?” “Will Mom and I be homeless? Will I have to beg on the streets?” My grandparents, seeing their precious granddaughter in distress, went into war mode.

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