Category: English

Patrick pointed to the divorce papers resting on the coffee table. “Child support,” he said, tapping the screen with a dismissive fingernail. “I put down five hundred.” I stared at the line of text, the number blurring. “Five hundred? Pat, are you serious?” “It’s enough,” he clipped, sliding his gaze away. “The kid isn’t solely my responsibility, Eliza.” I laughed. A sharp, raw sound that caught in my throat and brought unexpected tears to my eyes. Seven years of marriage. A six-year-old son, Leo. And he declared five hundred dollars was “enough.” “Sign it if you agree, or don’t. It’s up to you.” He stood, snatching his phone off the arm of the sofa. The phone immediately buzzed. A text message notification popped up on the screen. The contact name read: Babe. 1 I didn’t sign the agreement. I told him I needed time to “consider.” Patrick huffed, utterly impatient. “What is there to consider?” “You pull in twelve thousand a month, Pat. Giving your son five hundred dollars for support—does that sound reasonable to you?” “I have to live, too,” he retorted. “Leo has to live, too.” “He’s with you. You take care of his living expenses.” I drew a long, shaky breath, fighting the urge to shatter the cheap glass table between us. “Legally, child support is calculated at twenty to thirty percent of the non-custodial parent’s income. That means you should be paying between twenty-four hundred and thirty-six hundred dollars.” “That’s the law’s suggestion, Eliza. It’s not my obligation.” “The law defines your obligation.” He fell silent, his jaw tight. After a moment, his voice dropped to a low, cold register. “Eliza, don’t push me.” “I’m not pushing you. I’m just demanding what my son is entitled to.” “You want to drag this to court?” “If you refuse to be reasonable, then court is where we’re going.” He glared at me, his eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. “Fine. You’ll regret this.” He slammed the front door on his way out. I sank back onto the sofa, staring at the printout. Child support: $500 per month. Leo is six, in the first grade. Tuition for his magnet school is a couple hundred a month, the after-school program is another five hundred, and his weekend tutoring is at least seven hundred. Plus clothes, doctor visits, and just, life. I spend at least two thousand a month on him. He was offering five hundred. I make about forty-five hundred a month. After rent of fifteen hundred, my own basic bills, and Leo’s two thousand… there’s practically nothing left. Patrick makes twelve thousand. After deductions… Wait. Where was his money going? I grabbed my laptop and logged into our joint savings account. Patrick’s direct deposit account. Balance: $1,800. I felt a chill wash over me. He brings home twelve thousand a month. How could he only have eighteen hundred left? I clicked on the transaction history. The most recent transfer: November 28th, $4,000 to “Savannah T.” Memo: Living Expenses. I scrolled up. October 28th: $4,000 to “Savannah T.” September 28th: $4,000 to “Savannah T.” August 28th: $4,000 to “Savannah T.” The 28th of every month. $4,000 on the dot. It had been going on for a full twelve months. My hand clenched around the phone. He gives Savannah four thousand dollars a month for “living expenses.” He would only give his own son five hundred. My phone chimed. It was Patrick. Patrick: If you don’t agree to $500, then it’s $300. I won’t give you another penny. Figure it out. I opened the Venmo app on my phone. 2 The Venmo history was far more detailed than the bank account. I saw the rest of the picture. In addition to the monthly $4,000 wire transfer: November 15th: Tiffany & Co. bracelet, $1,200. November 20th: The Gilded Spoon Bistro, Couple’s Tasting Menu, $180. November 22nd: The Fairmont Hotel, one night stay, $450. October 10th: Prestige Motors, Down payment on a vehicle, $15,000. I clicked on the $15,000 payment detail. It was the down payment for a BMW 330i—a sleek, nearly new model. The total cost was $45,000, with a loan for the remaining $30,000. Owner of the car: Savannah T. I sat there, perfectly still. My body felt heavy, hollowed out. Leo ran out of his room, his hair mussed. “Mom, I’m hungry.” I pulled him onto my lap, hugging him tight. “What do you want?” “Can we get a pizza?” “Absolutely.” I opened the delivery app and ordered a basic medium pepperoni pizza. $28. Then I looked at Patrick’s Venmo history again. November 25th: High-end Steakhouse, Surf-and-Turf Dinner for Two, $350. That very day, I had cooked Leo a cheap box of mac and cheese. It was the end of the month, my paycheck hadn’t cleared, and I only had fifty dollars left in my checking account. I called Patrick. It rang for a long time before he answered. “What do you want?” “Leo’s tutoring fee is due next week. Seven hundred dollars.” “I’m broke.” “What about your paycheck?” “Spent it.” “On what?” He paused for a few seconds. “My money is mine to spend however I choose, Eliza. You don’t get to audit me.” “You still have to cover the kid’s expenses, Pat.” “Didn’t I give you a deposit for living expenses?” “You give me two thousand a month! What am I supposed to do with that?” “Figure it out yourself.” He hung up. I stared at the phone, a strange, hysterical urge to laugh welling up. I wanted to laugh until I wept. Seven years of marriage. Year one: I was pregnant, violently ill. He said he was too busy with work to care for me. Year two: C-section delivery. He stayed at the hospital for two hours, said there was an emergency meeting, and left. Year three: I quit my job to stay home with the baby. He said since I wasn’t working, I was responsible for everything at home. Year four: I wanted to go back to work. He said Leo was too little to be left with strangers. Year five: I found a part-time job, making $3,000 a month. He said it was pitifully small, I should just stay home. Year six: I insisted on working, pushing my salary up to $4,500. He said I still made less than him, so he was the one supporting the family. Year seven: He wanted a divorce. He had been cheating. And he offered $500 for his son. I sent him a text: I’d like to meet Savannah. Can we arrange that? He replied instantly: What are you trying to pull, Eliza? Nothing. Just want to talk. A conversation. Don’t you dare cause trouble. I won’t. He texted me an address. The Riverwalk Residences, Tower 3, Unit 1502. I looked up the complex. Upscale condos. Average price per square foot was astronomical. A hundred-square-meter unit would cost over half a million dollars. Three years ago, Patrick had said we should buy a house. I offered the $20,000 my parents had gifted me for a down payment. He said the money wasn’t enough; we had to wait. We never bought a house. Now I knew why. The money wasn’t the problem. The buyer was the problem. And this was just the beginning. 3 I didn’t go find Savannah. I went to see a lawyer. Ms. Ellis, a sharp, composed woman, reviewed the materials I’d compiled. “The evidence is very strong, Eliza.” “His transfer records to the third party, the car purchase records, the hotel stays—all valid evidence.” “Under marital law, you can demand the return of any community property funds he gifted to a third party during the marriage.” “Twelve months, four thousand a month. That’s forty-eight thousand dollars.” “The fifteen-thousand-dollar down payment on the car also counts as marital property. You can demand that back, too.” “That’s sixty-three thousand dollars total.” “In addition, since he is the party at fault for the dissolution of the marriage, you can demand a larger share of the remaining assets, as well as compensation for emotional distress.” I asked, “And the child support?” “His income is twelve thousand a month. The statutory baseline is twenty to thirty percent, twenty-four hundred to thirty-six hundred. Given Leo’s needs, I recommend we demand thirty-five hundred.” “If he disagrees, we file suit, and the court will set the amount.” I nodded. Ms. Ellis adjusted her glasses. “There’s one other issue.” “What is it?” “Do you have any community assets? A house, a car, joint savings?” “No house. The car he drives was purchased before we were married, and it’s titled only in his name.” “Savings?” “I have about eight thousand in my personal account, from my salary over the last few years. His account…” I showed her the bank statement on my phone. Patrick’s balance: $1,800. Ms. Ellis frowned. “He’s been working for years, making twelve thousand a month. There’s no way he only has eighteen hundred dollars left.” “Where’s the money?” “I have no idea.” “We need to investigate,” she said. “If he’s been liquidating or transferring community property to hide it, the court can penalize him severely.” I left the law firm and drove straight to Patrick’s office building. One of his colleagues, Mike, looked surprised to see me. “Liz? Hey, what are you doing here?” “Looking for Patrick.” “He’s on leave. Said he was taking an impromptu trip.” “A trip where?” “Didn’t say.” I opened my phone and pulled up Patrick’s social media. He had posted a photo yesterday. It was a sunset on a beach, with the back of a woman’s head in the foreground. The caption: Much-needed R&R. I zoomed in on the picture. I could clearly see the bracelet on the woman’s wrist: a David Yurman Cable Bracelet. Retail: $2,500. I had seen that bracelet before. Last month, Patrick had asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I’d suggested a simple, affordable bracelet—maybe a hundred dollars. He’d scoffed. “A hundred dollars? That’s too cheap, Eliza. I’ll get you something nice.” Then he never mentioned it again. Now I knew. He bought it. For Savannah. $2,500. I went home, booted up my old desktop, and logged into Patrick’s email. The password was our wedding anniversary. He hadn’t bothered to change it. There was an unread email from his bank. Dear Patrick J. [Zhou], a transfer of $100,000 from your account ending in 8888 was initiated on October 15th, 2024. Your current balance is $500. I froze. One hundred thousand dollars. Where did he move it? I scrolled further and found the electronic statement. October 15th. Transfer of $100,000. Recipient: Diane J. Diane J. was Patrick’s mother. He had moved the money to his mom. I sat there, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. He had been planning this for months. Liquidate assets, transfer the cash, file for divorce, hide the money, and try to get away with paying me and Leo five hundred dollars a month. My phone rang. It was Patrick. “Eliza, what were you doing at Ms. Ellis’s office?” “You’re spying on me?” “A college buddy works in that building. He saw you.” “I was consulting an attorney about the divorce.” “Consulting what? Just sign the damn papers!” “I won’t sign them.” “Then what do you want?” “I’ll see you in court.” He laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Go ahead. Sue me. I don’t have any money.” “You have one hundred thousand dollars.” Silence on the other end. After a long time, he spoke. “You went through my email?” “It’s community property, Pat. I have a right to know where our money went.” “That money is my mother’s! It’s not marital property!” “Is that so? We’ll let a judge decide.” I hung up. Leo ran over. “Mom, where’s Dad?” “Dad’s on a work trip, sweetie.” “When is he coming back?” “I don’t know.” Leo looked up at me, his small face serious. “Mom, are you and Dad getting a divorce?” I knelt and pulled him into a desperate hug. “I’m sorry, baby.” “I don’t want you to,” he whimpered. I started to cry, too. But I knew I couldn’t back down. I called Ms. Ellis. 4 Ms. Ellis helped me compile all the evidence. The transaction records, the texts, the hotel bills, the car receipt, the property transfer. It was 127 pages of undeniable fact. She said, “It’s more than enough. We can file.” “How long will this take?” I asked. “If he’s uncooperative, maybe three to six months.” “What about Leo’s support in the meantime?” “We’ll file a motion for temporary orders. The court can mandate he pay interim child support.” “How much?” “Based on the statutory guidelines, likely five to seven thousand dollars a month.” I nodded. Patrick hadn’t contacted me in days. His social media, however, continued to update. Beach, restaurant, hotel, theme park. In the photos, Savannah was beaming. I screenshotted them all. Then I drove to the Riverwalk Residences. Unit 1502. The door was closed. I rang the bell. No answer. I asked the security guard: “Who lives in 1502?” “A couple. The man is in his thirties, the woman is in her twenties.” “When did they move in?” “Two years ago.” Two years ago. Leo was four. Patrick had been “working late” and “traveling for business.” He’d told me I had it easy, staying home with the baby, compared to his corporate grind. Now I knew the truth. He wasn’t grinding. He was here. With Savannah. I waited outside the complex until 8:00 p.m. Patrick’s car—the one he bought before we were married—pulled into the parking garage. Savannah was in the passenger seat. They got out, holding hands, and walked toward the tower lobby. I followed them. I slipped into the elevator just before the doors closed. Patrick’s face went white when he saw me. “Eliza…” “Patrick,” I said, my voice steady. “We need to talk.” Savannah looked from me to him. “Who is this?” “I’m his wife,” I stated clearly. “More accurately, his not-yet-divorced wife.” The elevator opened on the 15th floor. I followed them into 1502. The condo was beautifully decorated. Minimalist, high-end furniture, a massive flat-screen TV in the living room. Everything we were supposed to have. I looked around. “You bought this place, Pat?” Patrick remained silent. “Purchased two years ago. Total price, four hundred thousand. Down payment of one hundred twenty thousand. Loan for two hundred eighty thousand.” “The down payment money? That was our community property.” “The mortgage payments for the last two years—eighteen thousand a year, thirty-six thousand dollars total—also community property.” “One hundred fifty-six thousand dollars, total. I want it back.” Patrick’s face was dark with fury. “Are you crazy? I bought this house! Why would I give you any of it?” “Marital law, Pat. Any property acquired during the marriage with community funds is community property. You gifting this to a third party is the malicious transfer of assets, and I have the right to demand its return.” Savannah shrieked. “That’s a lie! Patrick gave this apartment to me!” I turned to her. “Did you know he had a wife and a six-year-old son?” She looked down, silent. I continued, my voice low and cutting. “Did you know he only offered his son five hundred dollars a month for support?” “But he gave you four thousand a month.” “He bought you a forty-five-thousand-dollar BMW.” “He bought you this half-million-dollar condo.” “Don’t you feel any shame?” Savannah was trembling. Patrick suddenly roared, “Eliza! Enough! You came here to threaten us, didn’t you?” “I’m telling you, it won’t work!” “I bought the place, it’s in my name, and you can’t touch it!” “The money? I don’t have it! Sue me! I won’t give you a single cent!” I looked at him, and a genuine smile touched my lips. “Patrick, you know what my biggest regret is?” “That I was blind enough to marry a man like you.” “Don’t worry. I’m going to make sure you pay for everything.” I turned and walked out. Just before the door clicked shut, I heard Savannah’s muffled sobs and Patrick’s rushed comfort: “Don’t cry, Babe. She’s just trying to scare you.” Three days later, I gave him his surprise. 5 I filed the divorce petition with the court. My demands: Dissolution of marriage. Custody of Leo, with Patrick to pay $3,500 monthly child support. Return of marital assets gifted to a third party, totaling $221,000 (includes apartment down payment, two years of mortgage payments, monthly transfers, and the car down payment). Return of the fraudulently transferred $100,000. $50,000 in damages for emotional distress. The court accepted the case. A week later, Patrick received the summons. He called me, screaming obscenities. “Eliza! You’re completely out of line!” “The apartment, the cash, fifty thousand in damages? Are you trying to steal from me?” I smiled into the phone. “Yes, Pat. I am.” “Don’t push your luck!” “Patrick, I’m asking you: what did I give up for this family over the last seven years?” “When I was pregnant, I went to every doctor’s appointment alone. I was sick, I had to be put on an IV, and I cried in the clinic hallway alone.” “When Leo was born via C-section, you left the hospital after two hours, saying work was more important.” “When I was recovering, your mother stayed for three days and left, saying the city wasn’t comfortable for her.” “And you? You came home after ten p.m. every night, saying you had clients.” “I took care of the kid, the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning—all by myself.” “When Leo spiked a fever at midnight, I held him in line at the emergency room for three hours.” “Where were you? You were with Savannah, watching a movie.” “For seven years, my paycheck—forty-five hundred a month—went entirely toward our family.” “Your paycheck—twelve thousand a month—went entirely toward your mistress.” “Now you want a divorce, and you offer your son five hundred dollars in support.” “Tell me, Patrick. Who is out of line here?” Silence again. After a very long pause, he said, “I admit, I haven’t been a good husband.” “But $221,000—I don’t have that kind of money.” “The apartment is Savannah’s home. I can’t leave her homeless.” “The $100,000 is with my mother; I can’t get it back.” “The best I can do is thirty thousand dollars and three thousand a month for Leo. That’s my absolute final offer.” I laughed again. “Patrick, you know what is the most disgusting thing about you?” “That even now, in this moment, you are prioritizing Savannah.” “You say you can’t leave her homeless.” “Did you once consider leaving your son with enough money to live on?” “When you were sending her four thousand a month, did you know I had fifty dollars left in my bank account?” “When you bought her the twenty-five-hundred-dollar bracelet, did you know I couldn’t afford a hundred-dollar pair of sneakers for myself?” “When you were on vacation with her, did you know I was home alone with a sick child?” “You say you can’t get the hundred thousand back from your mother? That money was mine! Why does your mother get to keep it?” “You say three thousand is your bottom line for child support? The law’s bottom line is twenty-four hundred to thirty-six hundred! What do you think your ‘bottom line’ is worth?” “Patrick, I’ll see you in court.” I hung up. Leo looked at me from the doorway. “Mom, is Dad leaving us?” I knelt and held him tight. “No, sweetheart.” “Daddy still loves you.” It was the biggest lie I’d ever told. But I refused to let my son carry the burden of feeling unloved by his father. No six-year-old deserves that. I started organizing the final documents for the hearing. My phone rang. Ms. Ellis. “Eliza, the opposing counsel contacted me. They want to settle out of court.” “What are the terms?” “They won’t agree to the apartment or the one hundred thousand, but they’re offering thirty thousand cash as compensation, and three thousand a month for child support.” “No.” “He says if you refuse, he’ll drag this out. He claims he has no liquid assets, so even if the court rules against him, there’s nothing to seize.” “Then we drag it out,” I said firmly. “I have time.” Ms. Ellis was silent for a moment. “Eliza, I want you to consider this seriously.” “Litigation is a marathon. It could take six months, maybe a year.” “During that time, you’ll be a single mom, working full-time, under immense stress.” “And even if we win, enforcement is the problem. He’s already moved the assets. The court orders him to pay, he claims he’s broke, and we’re stuck.” “Thirty thousand isn’t a lot, but it’s guaranteed cash. Three thousand is low, but it’s better than five hundred.” “Think about it.” “Ms. Ellis, I don’t want the thirty thousand.” “I want what he legally owes us.” “I need him to understand that there is a severe price for what he did.” “I will not settle.” “Understood. I respect your decision.” I put the phone down and opened my laptop, pulling up more evidence. Patrick’s social media from the last two years: Photos with Savannah—restaurants, movies, theme parks, vacations. Every single photo was screenshotted and dated. Then, I logged into his payment app history. Beyond the monthly $4,000: Weekly dinner dates: averaging $100. Monthly hotel stays: averaging $450. Yearly vacations: averaging $4,000. A conservative estimate: he spent at least $100,000 on Savannah in two years. For me and Leo? Two thousand a month for all of our expenses. I organized the data into a spreadsheet and emailed it to Ms. Ellis. Her reply: Evidence solid. We will win. I put the phone down. Looking out the window, I suddenly remembered our wedding day, seven years ago. He had promised: “Eliza, I will take care of you forever.” I had believed him. Now, I knew better. The day before the hearing, Patrick called me again. “Eliza, let’s meet. Let’s talk this through reasonably.” “There’s nothing left to talk about.” “You have to give me a way out, Eliza!” “Did you ever give me or Leo a way out?” “I know I messed up, but why do you have to ruin me completely?” “I’m not ruining you. You did this to yourself.” “Then what do you want? I can’t give you two hundred twenty-one thousand dollars! I have mortgages, I have to support the….” “Support the what?” I interrupted. “Support Leo? What have you supported?” “I…” “You offered him five hundred dollars a month. That doesn’t even cover a pair of quality sneakers and a winter coat.” “Do you spend time with him? When was the last time you saw him? Six months ago?” “Do you care about him? Did you know he was in the hospital with a fever last week?” “I…” He had no words. I finished for him. “Patrick, I’ll see you in court.” “Wait,” he pleaded. “Let me send you something.” A text notification popped up.

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I was a ward of the Sunshine State Orphanage. One day, two wealthy families arrived. Both brought their sons, who were three years older than me. They both wanted to adopt me. Mrs. Higgins, the orphanage director, held my hand and asked gently, “Sweetheart, which one would you like to be your big brother?” I looked at the two boys in front of me. Just as I was about to point to the boy who looked like a golden retriever—warm, sunny, and smiling—rows of translucent subtitles suddenly floated before my eyes: [Girl, do not pick Gavin Sterling. He is the Main Character. In the future, he will only love the Heroine, Sarah Locke.] [Choose Liam Vance. He is the Villain. He looks cold and gloomy on the outside, but he secretly wants a little sister. If he has you, maybe he’ll learn to love. Maybe he won’t become a ruthless monster. Maybe he won’t have to die a tragic death.] My gaze shifted to the other boy. He was wearing a miniature black suit, his dark hair messy and rebellious, his expression cold as ice. I walked over, took his hand—which was freezing cold—and asked in my sweetest voice: “Will you be my big brother?” 1 Dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight cutting through the old orphanage windows. I sat on a small wooden stool, counting the cracks in the floor tiles. I had been at Sunshine State for five years. I knew every crack by heart. “Chloe King, come here a moment,” Mrs. Higgins called out from the hallway. I looked up and smoothed down my faded blue dress. It was the best one we had, saved specifically for adoption days. “Coming, Mrs. Higgins,” I chirped, jogging over. My heart was pounding. Last night, I had that dream again—a boy in black standing in the distance. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was waiting for me. Mrs. Higgins fixed my collar. “Two very nice families are here today. They both want to adopt you.” Her eyes twinkled. “This time might be the one, Chloe.” I bit my lip. People always said I was cute, but they always picked someone else. In the main hall, two couples were talking. I hid behind Mrs. Higgins, peeking out. One couple wore bright, casual clothes. The mother was crouching down, talking to a boy who radiated sunshine. He was about twelve, with chestnut hair and a smile that reached his eyes. He was flying a toy plane through the air. The other couple was starkly different. The man wore a sharp black suit. The woman wore a deep blue dress; she looked elegant but pale and sickly. Standing beside them was a boy in a black suit. He matched the figure in my dreams. He was taller than the first boy, hands shoved in his pockets, staring blankly out the window. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, and their son, Gavin,” Mrs. Higgins introduced them. “And this is Mr. and Mrs. Vance, and their son, Liam.” Gavin ran over, grinning. “Hi! I’m Gavin. I’m thirteen. Dad said I might get a sister!” He grabbed my hand enthusiastically. “Do you like planes? I can teach you how to make paper jets. I know a ton of designs!” “Gavin, don’t scare her,” Mrs. Sterling scolded gently, smiling at me. “Chloe, right? You’re adorable. If you come home with us, Gavin will be a great brother.” I instinctively looked at the other boy. Liam was still by the window, but now he had turned his head. His eyes were pitch black, staring straight at me. Cold, like winter stars. “Sweetheart,” Mrs. Higgins asked, “who do you choose?” I looked at Gavin’s warmth, then at Liam’s silence. The Sterlings looked happy. The Vances looked… broken. Just as I raised my finger toward Gavin, the text appeared in the air, glowing like a HUD in a video game: [Girl, do not pick Gavin Sterling. He is the Main Character. He will eventually abandon you for the Heroine, Sarah Locke. You will die alone in a foreign country.] I blinked. The text didn’t vanish. More appeared: [Choose Liam Vance. The Villain. He looks cold, but he needs you. Save him, and you save yourself.] My heart hammered against my ribs. Was this a hallucination? But the text was so clear. [Liam looks mean, but he will be the best brother if you give him a chance.] I looked up at Liam. He was frowning slightly, confused as to why I was staring. I took a deep breath and made up my mind. I walked toward Liam. As I got closer, he stiffened. I saw a flash of panic in his dark eyes. I stopped in front of him and grabbed his cold hand. “Will you be my big brother?” I asked, looking up. The room went silent. Liam’s eyes widened. His lips trembled. I saw shock, followed by a flicker of desperate longing. “Are you… sure?” His voice was low, raspy. “I don’t know how to… fold paper planes.” I nodded. “I’m sure.” Liam’s hand slowly tightened around mine. “Okay.” In that moment, something in his eyes melted. The subtitles flashed again: [Congratulations. You have chosen the true future.] 2 The Vance family car rolled through towering iron gates, the tires crunching on gravel. “We’re here,” Mr. Vance—Father, now—said briefly. The house was a gray stone mansion, massive and intimidating. Heavy curtains covered every window. I glanced at Liam sitting next to me. Since I picked him, he hadn’t said a word. “Let’s go inside,” Mrs. Vance said softly. She looked exhausted. I fumbled with the door handle and nearly tripped getting out. A pair of hands steadied my shoulders. Liam. “Careful,” he muttered, then immediately let go and shoved his hands back in his pockets. The interior was cold marble and crystal chandeliers. It was so big it echoed. “Martha will show you to your room,” Mrs. Vance said, coughing lightly. “I’m tired. I’ll be upstairs.” She walked up the stairs slowly, looking frail. A round-faced woman appeared. “Miss Chloe? I’m Martha, the housekeeper. Come this way.” I looked at Liam. He stood rooted to the spot. “Liam…” I whispered. “I live on the third floor,” he said, avoiding my eyes. Then he turned and vanished up the stairs. My room was on the second floor. Pale blue walls, a white bed, and brand-new fairy tale books on the desk. That night, dinner was just Father and me. Martha said Mother was unwell and Liam wasn’t hungry. “You start at Saint Mary’s Elementary tomorrow,” Father said, cutting his steak. The knife screeched against the plate. “Thank you… Dad,” I tried. He paused, grunted an acknowledgment, and went back to reading documents. That night, I couldn’t sleep. The house was too quiet. Around midnight, my door clicked open. I squeezed my eyes shut, peeking through my lashes. It was Liam. He walked silently to my bed in his pajamas. He stood there for a long time, just watching. Then, he reached out and tucked the blanket around my shoulders. “Goodnight… Chloe,” he whispered. I held my breath until he left. The blanket smelled faintly of pine soap—Liam’s scent. The next morning, Liam was at the breakfast table. “Good morning,” I chirped. “Morning,” he mumbled into his toast. “The school bus will be here in twenty minutes,” Martha announced. Liam stood up abruptly. “I’ll drive her.” Martha blinked. “But Liam, your high school is in the opposite direction.” “I’m driving her,” he repeated, grabbing his keys. Twenty minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of his car. “Thanks for the ride,” I said. Liam stared at the road. “New school. If anyone bullies you, tell me.” When we arrived, he walked me to the main office. “This is my sister,” he told the receptionist, his voice hard. “She’s new. Look out for her.” As I walked to my class, I looked back. Liam was still standing there, watching. He raised a hand in an awkward wave. My class was full of curious stares. During recess, a group of girls surrounded me. “Are you really Liam Vance’s sister?” a girl with a ponytail asked. “You don’t look like him.” “I’m adopted,” I said honestly. “Oh. So they bought you,” another girl giggled. “Did you cost a lot?” My face burned. Suddenly, the classroom went dead silent. I looked up. Liam was standing in the doorway, his face like a thundercloud. He strode over, towering over the elementary schoolers. “She’s my sister,” Liam said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “Say one more word, and see what happens.” The girls scattered like terrified birds. Liam looked at me, his expression softening. “Come find me at lunch. We’re eating together.” After he left, I looked at my desk. The glowing text appeared: [He is starting to care.] 3 A month passed. I settled into life at the Vance manor. One afternoon, I ran up to Liam after school. “Guess what? A new girl transferred in today! Her name is Sarah, and she sat next to me!” Liam frowned. “Sarah?” “Yeah! She lent me her colored pencils. She’s so nice.” [Warning: Sarah Locke has appeared. The Heroine.] The text floated in front of my face. I blinked it away. “Don’t trust strangers too easily,” Liam muttered. “But no one else talks to me,” I said quietly. Liam went silent. “I’m free this weekend. I can teach you how to make paper planes.” I looked up, eyes wide. “Really? You said you didn’t know how.” He looked away, ears turning pink. “I… learned.” That weekend, I knocked on his door. “Come in.” His room was amazing. Posters of galaxies covered the walls. Telescopes and star charts were everywhere. “You like astronomy?” I asked. He quickly closed the book he was reading—Astrophysics for People in a Hurry. “Did you need something?” “I made this for you.” I handed him a drawing. It was a girl and a boy holding hands under the stars. Liam took it. His fingers trembled slightly. He opened a drawer to put it away, and I saw he had kept everything—the paper frog I made, the clay bear, even a messy card. He kept it all. “Why are you so good at paper planes?” I asked later, as we flew them in the living room. “I spent a lot of time alone as a kid,” he said simply. My heart ached for him. Monday came. Sarah wasn’t in school. During a break, I went to the bathroom, but when I tried to leave, the door was locked from the outside. “Hello? Anyone?” I banged on the door. Hours seemed to pass. Finally, a janitor opened it. “Weird, there was an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door. A high school boy told me to check.” I ran out and saw Liam at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall. He nodded at me once, then walked away. That evening, we walked home under the setting sun. “Why did you choose me that day at the orphanage?” Liam asked suddenly, stopping under an oak tree. “Because you didn’t choose Gavin,” he whispered before I could answer. “Everyone chooses Gavin. He’s the sun. I’m just… the shadow.” He looked at me, his eyes vulnerable. “It was the first time anyone chose me.” The subtitles floated up: [He has lived in Gavin’s shadow his whole life. You changed that.] I grabbed his hand. “Because you’re better than anyone else, Liam.” He squeezed my hand back. “Idiot.” But he was smiling. 4 May arrived. Liam’s birthday was coming up. I used all my allowance to buy a limited edition book: The Hubble Legacy. The day before his birthday, Father came home. He tossed an expensive gaming console on the table without even wrapping it. Liam didn’t even look at it. “Liam,” Father said at dinner. “I hear you’re top of your class again. Good. Keep it up for the business.” Mother coughed weakly. The tension was thick. The next morning, I snuck the book into Liam’s backpack. After school, I found him on the roof terrace of our house. “Happy Birthday!” I shouted, holding a small, slightly melted cupcake I’d bought from the corner bakery. Liam turned around. “You… got this for me?” “Yup! And check your bag!” He pulled out the book. His eyes softened in a way I’d never seen. “Thank you.” We ate the cupcake together. “Make a wish!” I said. “I don’t have any,” he said. “Can I make one for you?” I closed my eyes. I wish my brother would be happy and never lonely again. “What did you wish for?” “Can’t tell. Won’t come true.” Liam adjusted his telescope. “Want to see Saturn?” We looked at the stars until late. “Do you want to be an astronomer?” I asked. “Father wouldn’t allow it,” he said bitterly. “But it’s your dream.” He didn’t answer, just patted my head. A week later, Mother’s condition crashed. An ambulance came in the night. Liam went with her. He came back at dawn, eyes red and hollow. “She needs surgery,” he rasped. Three days later, I visited the hospital. I showed Mother a drawing of our family smiling. Liam watched me, his face tight. The subtitles flashed, bright red: [Warning: In three days, Mrs. Vance will die. Prepare yourself. He will need you.] My heart sank.

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Right before I died, I looked my wicked stepmother in the eye and gasped, “Grandpa left me a hundred million dollars… the money is hidden… it’s hidden in…” I didn’t get to finish. I flatlined. My stepmother, tears streaming down her fake face, screamed at the doctor, “You heard her! Bring her back and I’ll give you half!” The doctor raised his hands dramatically. “By the power of Thor, I banish the darkness!” Zap. Literal lightning struck down, turning my gorgeous body into a piece of charcoal. I stood next to the bed in spirit form, smiling beatifically. Thank you. Seriously. 1 I knew about my stepmother’s plan to kill me and stage it as a suicide ages ago. Don’t ask how. Let’s just say I have a gift. My soul can detach from my body at will. As long as my physical shell remains intact, I can hop back in within two hours. So when I found out she hired a hitman, I was thrilled. I was sick of playing nice with that snake. I figured I’d pull a Houdini—let her think she succeeded, then sneak off abroad with my inheritance. My dad could rest easy in his grave knowing we weren’t fighting anymore. But… what the hell is this doctor doing? Did he just barbecue me? “By the power of Thor”? Who does he think he is, an Avenger? My stepmom was so shocked she forgot to fake-cry. Her jaw hit the floor. “It… it’s burnt?” The doctor scratched his head, looking sheepish. “Sorry about that. Just learned that spell. Haven’t quite mastered it. I got a little excited when you mentioned fifty million.” Wow. This guy has a way with words. I hovered over him, hands around his spectral neck, screaming, “You quack! Die!” 2 Watching my beautiful, curvy body turn into a briquette was heartbreaking. But what’s done is done. I needed a new ride. Ideally, someone who just died. Freshly deceased. If I jump in fast enough, I can reboot the system. Where do you find fresh bodies? The hospital, obviously. I floated into an operating room. It was a bloody mess. C-section gone wrong. I heard the doctors say she was hemorrhaging and fading fast. I was grinning at the opportunity until a mournful gaze pinned me in place. The woman, a weeping beauty, stared right at me. “I didn’t think anyone would smile at my death.” Me: “It’s not personal.” She blinked. “You can see me?” “Yeah, we’re both dead. Well, you’re dead-dead. I’m just shopping for a rental.” She was shocked. “Are you… gifted?” “Sure. Look, lend me your body. I promise I’ll take care of it. I’ll do yoga and everything.” She hesitated, but the frantic voices of the doctors pushed her. “Patient has flatlined! The baby isn’t out yet!” “Get the baby out! Prepare the defibrillator!” The woman practically knelt before my spirit. “Okay. Take it. Just save my baby. Please.” The nurse shouted, “We have a pulse!” I dove into the body. Pain—searing, blinding pain—hit me instantly. I screamed and rolled right back out. “Patient flatlined again!” The woman looked panicked. She grabbed my spirit and shoved me back toward her corpse. “Pulse is back!” I howled. “It hurts! It hurts so bad!” 3 Childbirth is a scam. It hurts like hell. Never doing this again. I asked the woman’s spirit, “No anesthesia?” “The doctor didn’t give me any.” Excuse me? “I don’t know why. He just said no.” This sounded familiar. It reminded me of a trashy web novel I read. The female lead needed surgery, but the CEO’s “White Moonlight”—his first love—bribed the doctor to withhold anesthesia. The female lead died of pain. I sweated through my new skin. “Wait. Is your name Wendy?” She widened her innocent doe eyes. “How did you know?” “Just a lucky guess.” I remembered crying my eyes out reading that book. The author had the nerve to resurrect the heroine later so she could end up with the scumbag CEO. I spent weeks DM-ing the author, thanking her ancestors for the trauma. Wendy tugged at my spectral sleeve. “Please. Help me. I don’t want my baby to grow up without a mom.” I didn’t want to deal with this mess, but honestly? I didn’t have a choice. 4 The moment Wendy died, the Reapers showed up. Mist filled the room. Two figures emerged—one tall and thin, one short and stout. Hats on their heads. “Get Rich” written on one, “Peace on Earth” on the other. I sat up in the spirit realm (while technically occupying the body) and waved. “Hey, boys. Long time no see.” The White Reaper froze. He glared. “Quinn? You died again?” “Hey, accidents happen. Look, I’m borrowing Wendy’s body. You guys can take her soul, but leave the vessel.” The Black Reaper growled. “Quinn, go find your own body. This one still has fate attached to it…” The White Reaper nudged him, cutting him off. “Fine. Take it. But you have to resolve Wendy’s regrets.” What regrets? A scumbag ex and a baby. I nodded vigorously. “Got it. Trust me, I won’t let her get back together with that trash bag. I’ll ruin him.” The White Reaper sighed. “No! I mean, you have to follow her destiny…” “Haha, no way.” “Then no deal.” I blew on my ghostly nails. “Think about it. If I follow her destiny, I have to date that scumbag, marry him, sleep with him… if The Boss finds out…” I gave them a knowing look. The Reapers shut up. They knew I meant business. Wendy was tugging my sleeve again. “My baby… save my baby.” “See? She wants me to save the kid.” The White Reaper looked pale. “Quinn!” “Tell your Boss I said hi.” “Quinn…” “Bye!” I waved them off. “I’ll raise the kid. I’ll crush the mistress. I’ll grind the scumbag into dust. Trust me. Ciao.”

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I flew to Metropolis for Owen’s birthday. I wanted to surprise him. Pushing the apartment door open, I stepped into a noisy, chaotic, takeout-fueled party. The awkward silence that followed my arrival was deafening. Everyone left shortly after, the good cheer evaporated. We started fighting. He accused me of making a scene in front of his friends, of deliberately embarrassing him. I was defensive, trying to explain the sheer exhaustion of flying back and forth every other weekend. He cut me off, cold and impatient: “You didn’t have to come. No one forced you to make it so hard on yourself.” Later, he got his wish. But then he panicked: “Willow, why aren’t you coming to see me anymore?” 1 The day before Owen’s birthday, I called him. My voice was filled with manufactured regret as I told him I had continuous rehearsals for the upcoming winter gala and wouldn’t be able to make it to Metropolis. He was gentle, saying he understood. The next afternoon, the moment our department’s main rehearsal wrapped, I rushed to the airport. Of course I had lied. Since elementary school, I had been by Owen’s side for every single one of his birthdays. How could I skip this year? I was just trying to tease him a little, to make the surprise even better. An hour and a half later, I landed in Metropolis, then took a nearly two-hour taxi ride to the apartment he rented near the university. I took out my key, slipped it into the lock, and quietly opened the door. The vision I had of Owen sitting alone, maybe having a simple dinner, vanished. Instead, the tiny living room was packed. Ten or so people were crammed around the coffee table, a feast of takeout containers and beer bottles spread out before them. The air was thick with loud chatter and sudden, dead silence the moment I appeared. Everyone turned, staring at me with a look of collective surprise. Owen was the first to react. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t even stand up to greet me. His expression was a strange mix of shock, confusion, and a flicker of unmistakable annoyance. But there was absolutely zero joy. I saw it clear as day. Mindful that his friends were watching, I forced myself to maintain a semblance of composure. I smiled brightly and held up the cake box in my hand. “Happy Birthday! I came to celebrate with you.” “You told me you were tied up with rehearsal,” he said, his tone flat. I was barely holding the fake smile in place, swallowing back a sudden surge of tears. “Could you please take this? And my bag?” A look of self-reproach crossed his face, and he finally scrambled to his feet, taking the cake and my small carry-on bag. Someone laughed, trying to cut the tension. “Owen, is this the famous girlfriend? No wonder you’ve been hiding her—she’s a knockout! If I had a girlfriend like that, I’d keep her secret too!” Next to the speaker, a girl’s face noticeably darkened. A moment later, she recovered, offering me a wide, bright smile. “He’s right, Owen. It’s a shame your girlfriend is an artist and doesn’t exactly speak our language, but we’re not scary, Willow. Next time, feel free to join us!” The tone was patronizing, dripping with superiority. I looked at the girl, who was clearly not my friend. She wore rimless glasses and was conventionally pretty, possessing an intense, scholarly air. Her eyes held a kind of intellectual arrogance that seemed ill-suited to her age. The spot right next to her was empty. It was where Owen had been sitting. Ten people around one small coffee table meant they had been practically pressed together. I could easily picture the scene just before I walked in. Suddenly, my eyes were drawn to her feet. Unlike everyone else, who wore house slippers—some even the disposable hotel kind—this girl was in thick wool socks. Her socked feet were resting on a square, crocheted trivet. It had a red and green geometric pattern, the stitching tight and perfectly even. It was the one I had made. 2 I usually kept that trivet tucked away, only bringing it out when I was staging food photos for my social media. Noticing me staring at her feet, the girl nervously shifted on the mat. “Oh, I mentioned my feet were a little cold just on the rug, so Owen grabbed this for me to put down,” the girl said, her voice sounding a little too careful. “Is this yours? I’m sorry, I used it without permission.” I walked straight up to her and held out my hand. “Give it to me.” “Huh?” Her face went blank. “The mat. Hand it over.” “Oh.” She pulled the trivet from under her feet and handed it to me. I took the small piece of handiwork and walked over to the garbage can, dropping it in. “It’s not for wiping your feet on,” I stated coolly. Her expression immediately crumbled into one of wounded innocence. She pursed her lips, looking wronged and yet determined to be the bigger person. Owen walked over and grabbed my arm, pulling me back slightly. “Willow. You crossed a line.” “I crossed a line?” I yanked my arm away. “Owen, are you out of your mind?” Seeing that we were about to have a full-blown row, the others quickly got up. “Right, well, since the girlfriend is here, we’ll take off. Happy birthday, Owen!” They made their quick, silent exit, putting on their shoes and closing the door behind them. The girl, Serena, shot a final, tearful look at Owen on her way out. When we were finally alone in the apartment, Owen turned on me, his eyes cold. “Satisfied? You drove everyone off.” “You’re mad that I crashed your party? That your girlfriend showed up on your birthday?” Owen pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead—his tell for maximum frustration. “I didn’t say you shouldn’t come, I just—” He took a deep breath. “Willow, those are my lab colleagues. You showed up and gave everyone the cold shoulder. You made me look like an absolute fool.” “How am I supposed to face them tomorrow?” I laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Is it them, or is it her you’re worried about facing?” A flash of raw anger crossed his features. “What are you talking about? Serena is just a colleague.” “Serena?” I was genuinely surprised. “That’s Serena?” The Serena. The one whose name had been popping up in every phone call, every casual conversation with Owen for months? “There’s a new girl in the lab, Serena.” “I got paired with Serena today. Hope she doesn’t tank my project.” “Serena is pretty useless, but she owns up to her mistakes so quickly, it’s hard to stay mad at her.” “Serena brought me a coffee this morning. Does she think I’m that easily bribed?” “Serena said she wanted to take me out for lunch—” 3 At first, I hadn’t thought anything of it. But when the “Serena content” in his conversations exceeded any normal threshold, I started to get wary. “Are you developing a crush on that Serena?” I’d asked him once over the phone. He’d laughed, open and easy. “Me? Like Serena? Are you kidding?” “Willow, I have you. The perfect girlfriend. Why would I even look at anyone else?” That had calmed my fears, somewhat. But my gut still hadn’t relaxed. After that conversation, Owen stopped mentioning her name entirely. I assumed their project had ended, their paths had diverged. I slowly started to forget about Serena. But I was wrong. It wasn’t that their paths had diverged; it was that they were no longer intersecting in front of me. Who knew how far things had progressed behind my back? Owen, oblivious to my mounting fury, grew more aggressive. He pointed to the trash can. “You threw that mat in front of Serena. You publicly shamed her, practically called her beneath you. Don’t you think that’s incredibly venomous?” Venomous. I never thought Owen would use that word against me. Especially not to defend another woman. He was heartbroken that I had made Serena uncomfortable. I’m not a naturally expressive person, and in moments of extreme rage, I tend to become dangerously calm. “Owen, I spent countless late nights crocheting that trivet. It was a painstaking project, used to prop up dishes for food photos. And you handed it to another woman to wipe her feet on.” “I—” He sputtered, on shaky ground. “I didn’t know it was that important.” “You didn’t know? I staged photos with that mat right in front of you a dozen times! I told you the whole story about learning to crochet, about how I messed up a stitch and had to unravel the entire thing and start over. I told you all of that!” My voice finally cracked, emotions spilling out. Owen slumped into his familiar pose of weary frustration. “My head is full of experimental data every day! I don’t have the mental space to catalog your arts and crafts projects!” “Yes, you’re busy!” I snapped, cutting him off. “Your experiments are paramount, and my life is just a quaint little footnote! Maybe we shouldn’t talk at all anymore. Since anything I say just goes in one ear and out the other.” “Willow, don’t be dramatic!” I laughed, a hollow sound. “I’m dramatic? Owen, do you think you’re the only person in the world who’s busy? That what you do is intellectually superior? You’re a brilliant grad student at a prestigious university, and I’m just a dancer. So I’m inferior to you, is that it?” “I never said that.” He denied it instantly. “You didn’t use the words, but your actions screamed it. You stopped bringing me to your group events because I don’t share your esoteric conversations.” Guilt flickered in Owen’s eyes, but he still wouldn’t admit it. “You’re overthinking everything.” “Then why did you stop? When we first started dating, you were so excited to introduce me to your roommates. We ate dinner together, went out, did things. Then it was less and less. And then never at all. You started keeping your plans secret!” Owen sighed, attempting patience. “They like to play those intense escape rooms and murder mystery games. You always complained that you couldn’t follow along.” “I was pretending to complain! You made me feel like an idiot! You think I’m not smart enough. I don’t care what your friends thought; I only wanted you to pay attention to me. You were my boyfriend! But you were embarrassed, weren’t you? You decided your girlfriend was a liability.” “I was not!” “You were! Why else did you stop bringing me around? Why did you give up the easy path of staying at Riverwood for grad school just to move a thousand miles away to Metropolis U?” “Metropolis U is objectively better than Riverwood U! Is it wrong for me to pursue the best academic path? And why are you digging up old history? Let’s stick to the issue at hand!” 4 “Fine. Let’s stick to the issue at hand. Today is your birthday. I’ve been rehearsing until midnight for the last two weeks, just so I could clear my schedule and fly here to be with you. You are not the only one who is exhausted. I’ve been running from one rehearsal to the next, preparing for my graduation showcase. Even bathroom breaks are a sprint.” “You moved to Metropolis six months ago, and I, out of respect for your workload, have flown out here every two weeks to see you. Do you think this constant travel is easy for me? Don’t you think your girlfriend is working hard, too?” “You have never once shown an ounce of gratitude or empathy for how much effort this takes.” I laid out the simple, crushing facts of my life. “You didn’t have to come. No one forced you to make it so hard on yourself.” His voice was flat, empty of feeling. “Excuse me?” I stared at him in disbelief. “I told you months ago you don’t have to constantly fly here. We’ll be reunited when you move to a dance company in Metropolis. You wouldn’t listen, you insisted on coming this often.” He was radiating impatience. The world went silent. In that moment, I understood the meaning of a cold heart. Before every trip, I’d rearrange my classes and my life. An hour on the subway to the airport, a ninety-minute flight, another long taxi. Was it tiring? Yes. But the sheer joy of seeing him always eclipsed the fatigue. After two short days, I would repeat the exhausting journey in reverse. I had foolishly believed he, if not grateful for my sacrifice, at least looked forward to our time together. I was wrong. He didn’t share my anticipation. In fact, our monthly meetings were a burden, an irritation that chipped away at his patience. If I had known this, why would I have put myself through all of that? “Okay.” After a long stretch of silence, I finally spoke. “What?” He looked confused, not following. I clarified: “I won’t be coming anymore.” A look of visible relief washed over him. “I’ve been telling you, we’ll be together in six months. This constant travel is unnecessary.” I managed a dry laugh and nodded. When I picked up my suitcase, he frowned. “Where are you going?” “Back to Riverwood.” “It’s the middle of the night. Leave tomorrow morning.” He offered a grudging kindness. “I have rehearsal tomorrow morning. I took time off, but now I realize I don’t need the extra day. There’s a late-night train; I can still catch it.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me into a tight hug, his voice dropping into a husky, familiar purr near my ear. “Why don’t you just stay the night? I’ll drive you to the airport in the morning?” I pushed him away, my face expressionless. “No, thank you.” Perhaps my rejection wounded his pride. On the way to the train station, Owen didn’t say a word to me. He sat stiffly, head bowed, furiously tapping on his phone. Who he was texting, I could only imagine. When we arrived, he silently pulled my suitcase from the trunk. I took it, and as I turned to walk away, he called out. “Serena and I are completely innocent, but she’s worried this misunderstanding will affect our working relationship. She insists on explaining herself. I just sent you her contact. Add her.” 5 Sitting on the high-speed train, I accepted the new contact request. It was nearly two in the morning, but she replied instantly. “Hi Willow, this is Serena. I’m so sorry about the mat today, Owen just handed it to me and put it down under my feet, I honestly didn’t realize it wasn’t meant for that.” “Please don’t be mad at him. Boys can be so clumsy and thoughtless about things like that.” “But while he might be thoughtless in life, he’s truly brilliant in his studies, and he’s been such a mentor to me.” “Once I messed up some key data, and he took the blame entirely, taking the full force of the professor’s frustration.” “Overall, Owen is talented and responsible—a rare and wonderful boyfriend. It would be a crime if I were the reason you two had a misunderstanding.” I didn’t reply, letting her stream of passive-aggressive apologies wash over me. But the next message wiped the look of mild amusement off my face. It was a photo of a box of Artisan Salted Caramel Tartlets. Immediately following, there was a money transfer. “These are a specialty from your area, right? I tried one at Owen’s place a while ago and loved them, so I asked him if he could bring me some sometime. I had no idea he was getting me a fresh box every week! He refused to take any money. Please, transfer this to him for me. I hate feeling like I’m taking advantage.” The memory flashed into my mind. Three months ago, Owen had called me, his voice a rare mix of longing and a hint of a plea. “I didn’t realize it when I lived in Riverwood, but I’ve developed an obsession with those Salted Caramel Tartlets.” “Tartlets?” I’d been confused. “Didn’t I bring you two boxes last time I visited?” “I shared them all with the lab,” he’d said, a sheepish laugh in the receiver. “I miss them now. I even dream of them at night.” “Should I ship some?” “Thanks, Willow. You’re the best.” From then on, he had asked me to send them regularly. Worried they wouldn’t be fresh if I shipped too many at once, I’d made a habit of stopping by the bakery every week to send him a fresh box. It turned out I wasn’t buying them for him at all. They were gifts for Serena. I felt like a complete fool. Without a second thought, I tapped the screen and accepted the money transfer. I bought the tartlets, and I spent the money. I had no reason to feel embarrassed. Serena, probably not expecting me to actually take the cash, fell silent. After a long pause, I blocked her number. Back at school, I went straight to my department head the next morning. She had always encouraged me to join the local Riverwood Dance Company, a suggestion I had previously dismissed because of Owen. “Professor, I’ve decided I want to audition for the Riverwood Dance Company. Could I ask you for some guidance?” Her face lit up with surprise. “You finally came to your senses!” 6 I’ve always been a homebody. Even in college, which was still in the state, I’d run home whenever possible. Metropolis held no special allure for me. The only reason I had grit my teeth and resolved to follow Owen—auditioning for a dance company there after graduation—was that he was going to grad school there and planning to apply for research work after. Now, I realized my efforts and sacrifices were meaningless. My presence, my future, meant nothing to him. If he didn’t anticipate our meetings, and he didn’t look forward to our future, why was I bending over backward? I might not be an academic star like Owen, but I was successful in my own right. I’d been dancing since childhood, praised for both my talent and work ethic. I’d been accepted to the Riverwood Dance Conservatory with the top score in my class. I was my professor’s favorite. She strongly recommended the Riverwood Dance Company, where she had spent ten years of her career. She said the opportunities were abundant, the network was strong, and the potential for growth was huge. I was incredibly tempted. With my professor’s guidance and my talent, joining the RDC meant a bright, secure future. Crucially, it meant being close to home. I could see my parents every week, have dinner with them, and drink my dad’s special soup. I didn’t have grand ambitions; this was my vision of a good life. But for Owen, I had been willing to give it all up. When we first started college, Owen had planned to stay at Riverwood for grad school. But in our final year, he’d changed his mind, suddenly obsessed with Metropolis U. We fought about it. Owen had lashed out, accusing me of holding him back. He claimed that he could have gone to a better college in Metropolis years ago, but he’d stayed at Riverwood for me. “My professors and friends say I’m underachieving here. Willow, are you going to hold me back a second time?” His voice had been sharp with accusation. I was shocked into submission. Simple and naive, I took his accusation to heart, believing I really had damaged his future. I apologized and gave him my full support. He was a year ahead of me, and I promised him: “I’ll graduate next year and follow you to Metropolis. I’ll audition for a company there, and we’ll settle down.” Looking back, I was laughably stupid. In high school, Owen had talked constantly about Riverwood University. It was his parents’ alma mater; he’d called it his dream. When he got his acceptance letter, he said his dream had come true. How had that history been rewritten into, “I only stayed for you”? After meeting with my professor to discuss the RDC requirements, I stepped out of her office just as my phone rang. It was Owen. He started right in with his grievance. “You took her money?” “Yes, I did.” I didn’t back down.

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The Dragon’s Blood Gem, a family heirloom rumored to command the respect of the underworld, was stolen after my wife’s male assistant, Leo, was seen playing with it. My father, furious, locked Leo in the basement for interrogation. The next day, my wife stormed a press conference, threatening suicide to prove Leo’s innocence. Her actions enraged my father so much he threatened to fire her and kick her out. In my past life, to protect my wife, Sarah, and her career, I had my bodyguards knock her out and take her away. Leo, for his arrogance, was sunk into the ocean, his body never found. When Sarah woke up, she never mentioned the incident again. We were as loving as ever, and she managed the family business diligently. But three years later, at my father’s birthday banquet, she led a team of mercenaries into our home and murdered him. Then she tied me under a hydraulic press in one of our factories and crushed me into a pulp. As I lay dying, I heard Sarah say coldly: “Leo’s body has never been found, so you don’t deserve to leave a whole corpse either!” “Julian, you owe this to Leo. Use everything you have to be buried with him!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the press conference. Since she wants to live and die with Leo, I’ll send them both to hell together! 1 “Sir,” Uncle Chen, our butler, whispered urgently, his face grave. “The Chairman wouldn’t accuse Leo of theft without reason. The Madam threatening suicide here… if this hits the news, the Group will be in the eye of the storm. The Chairman is furious. Please, go talk some sense into her.” My father built the Blackwood Group from nothing in the chaotic Golden Triangle, relying on ruthlessness and an iron fist. If Sarah continued her scene in public, my father would ensure she lost everything. In my past life, I couldn’t bear to see his hard work wasted and his dignity lost. Understanding Uncle Chen’s hint, I had the bodyguards drag her away from the press conference. The result? My father and I died violent deaths three years later. A complete tragedy. Today, I just looked at Uncle Chen calmly. “If Sarah has made up her mind, no one can change it.” Seeing me arrive, Sarah shouted, her voice ringing through the hall. “I saved Leo and his child at the border! They were victims of trafficking! How could they be thieves?” “Julian, don’t try to persuade me! I saved Leo, and I will be responsible for him until the end!” Uncle Chen asked, shocked: “Madam, you are the Group’s CEO. Going against the Chairman for a thief… if word gets out, the Group’s reputation will be ruined in your hands! Besides, Leo confessed. Why blow this up…” Sarah stood up slowly, her back rigid. She looked at me, her gaze a mix of anger and bone-chilling cold. “Julian, your father is powerful and ruthless. Now he’s framing an innocent man and forcing a confession? Can you dare say you haven’t illegally detained and tortured him?” “If your family can do such unconscionable things, how can I not oppose him? I will blow this up! I will clear Leo and his child’s names! I want everyone to know the darkness of the Blackwood family!” My fingers curled slightly. The memory of being crushed by the hydraulic press in my past life awakened in my soul. Deep in my mind, Sarah’s bloodshot eyes overlapped with her gaze now. Looking at me with infinite hatred. I suddenly realized: She was reborn too. Uncle Chen turned pale at her words, rushing forward. “Madam, please lower your voice! If the board hears this…” Sarah hesitated. She probably remembered that with my father as Chairman, she was just a CEO without real power. In the end, she gave me a deep look and ran towards the basement. I calmly arranged for my men to handle the PR with the reporters and disperse the crowd. Only after that did I breathe a sigh of relief and enter my father’s office. An hour later, I had already arranged for a lawyer to file for divorce and walked out feeling light. “Julian, cutting losses in time. You have my boldness from back in the day.” Before I left, my father patted my shoulder approvingly. “The divorce papers will be ready in three days. Nothing to regret. A woman like that isn’t worth keeping. I’ll find you whatever kind of woman you want later.” I held back the urge to cry and nodded firmly. In my past life, the Blackwood family business was destroyed. This time, I will not get involved in Sarah’s mess! As soon as I walked downstairs, Uncle Chen ran up to me, panting, looking panicked, his voice trembling. “Sir, bad news! Go quickly! Since the Madam went down there, security says Leo lost control and started self-harming with broken glass in the interrogation room.” “The Madam rushed to stop him and accidentally got her wrist artery slashed!” I rushed to the basement level. Leo was wailing, hugging his leg. Sarah, ignoring the wound on her wrist, was hugging him and comforting him softly. The child beside them was terrified, clutching his mother’s hem, crying breathlessly. As soon as I entered, Leo looked like he’d seen a ghost. He collapsed to the floor, trembling like a sieve, scrambling backward. “Mr. Blackwood, please don’t kill me! I didn’t mean to hurt the Madam! If you must punish someone, punish only me! Benny is just a child, he knows nothing…” He shrank into Sarah’s arms, acting like he didn’t deserve to live. Sarah helped Leo up, glaring at me like an enemy, gritting her teeth: “Julian, what right do you have to kill him? It’s not your place to judge him!” Leo cried so hard he could barely speak. “Sarah, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have put you in a difficult position… Please don’t blame Mr. Blackwood!” Sarah held Leo’s hand back tightly, her voice deep. “You did nothing wrong. You are innocent. The ones at fault are those heartless people!” “Julian, when I brought them back, I said I would ensure their safety for the rest of their lives. It had nothing to do with romance. No one could bully them.” “Now, out of jealousy and hate, you and your father pour dirty water on them and want them dead. You are truly vicious!” “You stand at the top of the food chain, high and mighty, ignoring rules, treating human life like grass. Heaven will not tolerate this!” 2 Before I could say a word, Sarah had already decided I framed Leo. She didn’t give me a chance to explain. The humiliation and tolerance I endured over the past two years burned in my chest. I couldn’t help but smirk. “CEO Sarah is so aggressive now. You really have the bearing of the head of the Blackwood family.” Sarah ignored her bleeding wrist and stood up straight. “Julian, do you think I, Sarah Vance, would bow to anyone? Marrying into your family was just going with the flow. Even without you, without the Blackwood family, I can carve out my own place in this industry!” When she said this, her eyes were cold and incomparably arrogant. I suddenly realized that after my death in the past life, she must have held real power in the Blackwood family for a long time. But I don’t know what happened later that caused her to be reborn too. “Worthy of CEO Sarah. Indeed courageous and ambitious.” Sarcastic words slipped out, but she just raised an eyebrow slightly. At this moment, Leo suddenly turned pale and sprayed a mouthful of blood onto Benny. Sarah’s face changed instantly. Ignoring her own wound, she hugged Leo tightly. “Leo, don’t scare me! Hold on, I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” Leo turned his head, blood still at the corner of his mouth, his tone mournful: “Don’t worry about me, Sarah. You gave me a second life. Living until today is enough…” Sarah interrupted him directly. “Don’t talk nonsense! As long as I’m here, you’ll be fine!” I had enough of these two showing off their love in front of me. I turned and left the basement, not wanting to look at them again. But that night, Sarah forcibly moved Leo and his son into the Blackwood villa. A dozen medical experts were hired. They transformed a room into a professional medical bay. Medicine and equipment were sent in like they were free. I asked my assistant to investigate. He came back to report: “Uncle Chen said the Madam swore an oath on her father’s ashes to prove Leo’s innocence. She also used all her shares in the Group as collateral.” “Sir, you know the Madam’s father was kind to the Chairman back in the day. That’s why the Chairman turned a blind eye and let them go for now.” The next evening, I was sitting on the balcony reading. The door was suddenly pushed open, and Sarah barged in. Behind her, several nurses carefully supported Leo and Benny as they walked in. Anger flared in my heart. “CEO Sarah, I remember this is my home, not your private club. I didn’t authorize you to bring any outsiders in.” Sarah stood still, hands in pockets, staring at me sternly: “Leo has been ostracized and bullied because he has no status. Now, announce immediately that you are becoming sworn brothers with him.” I stared at her and sneered. “I am the only heir to the Blackwood Group. You want me to become sworn brothers with a stranger? Trying to use my name to give him a share of the inheritance? You should ask my father if he wants a surprise son!” Leo was wearing haute couture today, looking noble, not out of place at all. But as soon as he sat down, he lowered his head and choked up uncontrollably: “Mr. Blackwood, don’t mock me… I don’t want anything. Status is just a fantasy to me. I’m willing to be the humblest security guard, just please don’t drive me away…” Before Sarah could speak, Leo stood up and took the child’s hand: “Forget it, CEO Sarah. It’s natural for Mr. Blackwood to refuse. Benny, let’s go. Don’t trouble people anymore.” Benny pouted, tears falling pat, pat. “Daddy, don’t go. I like it here. I want to be with Mommy forever!” Leo looked sad, lowering his head to comfort Benny: “This isn’t our home after all. It’s this uncle’s home. Let’s go…” Sarah quickly bent down and picked up the child. “Nonsense. As long as I’m here, this is your home!” I couldn’t help but sneer: “Sarah, get this straight! This is the Blackwood villa. If you want to play mommy, I won’t stop you, but don’t play cuckoo in my nest! Get out together while you can!” Sarah finally darkened her face. The next second, she waved her hand, and two tall, muscular bodyguards stepped forward and held me down. Then they forced me to kneel in front of them. Sarah leaned down, stepped on my shoulder, looked down at me, and ordered coldly: “Julian, what gives you the right to be arrogant? Kowtow and apologize to Leo right now!” 3 Before I could react, she stomped my head into the floor. “Sarah, are you crazy? You dare do this to me?” I screamed, tears of pain flowing uncontrollably. She didn’t stop. A second kick followed immediately. Sarah laughed loudly. “Julian, don’t be naive. You just have a powerful father. What do you have to be arrogant about? But now, I am the General Manager of the Blackwood Group!” “And you are just the man behind me. Men play with women and power all the time. Why do I have to be chaste just because I’m a woman? Who do you think you are? Julian, you are just a stepping stone for me, Sarah Vance.” Sarah’s voice was devoid of emotion. She squatted beside my ear, smiling viciously. “Do you really think you’re nobler than others? In this territory of South City, what I say goes.” Sarah didn’t plan to give me a chance to breathe. “Let me tell you, Leo is my lover. Even if you don’t recognize him as a brother, I will give him wealth and glory!” Leo put on a pitiful look, feigning refusal: “Sarah, don’t say angry words. You and Mr. Blackwood are husband and wife. Why make such a scene? Mr. Blackwood, please don’t take it to heart.” My consciousness blurred. I spat at Sarah and cursed, “Sarah, you animal! Just wait until you’re ruined!” Sarah sneered contemptuously, unconcerned. “Whatever. My father was kind to your family back then. Without the Vance family, the Blackwood family wouldn’t be here today! Without you, I can still be top of the industry!” Sarah kicked me away, turned, and held the father and son’s hands. “Meeting you two, saving you, was the most correct decision I’ve made in my life. I won’t betray your trust!” “Julian, I advise you to enjoy the last good moments of your life. For the sake of our marriage, I’ll leave you a few dollars for food.” With a cold sneer, she led Leo and Benny through the hall ostentatiously. Then she sent dozens of people to pack up valuables, cleaning out the house. Convoys of trucks filled with jewelry and antiques drove out of the villa gate mightily under the cover of night. I could only lie on the ground in a mess, surrounded by debris. In a trance, I remembered the night two years ago. Sarah was inspecting mines in Myanmar. She stumbled upon a dying Leo and a child at the border and brought them home. I softened and felt compassion, providing them with food and clothing, and pulling strings to get them IDs. Who knew this moment of kindness would invite a wolf into the house. Every time they cried, Sarah was convinced I treated them badly, abused them. For two years, I seemed to become the outsider in this home, and they became Sarah’s “family.” Maybe my mistake was insisting on marrying Sarah back then, leading to the later tragedy. My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. My assistant stumbled in, voice trembling: “Mr. Blackwood! All the jewelry has been moved out by the Madam. She ran away with that man.” I gritted my teeth and held onto the table leg. “I know. Notify my father for me. Use the emergency clause to freeze assets. Put out a city-wide warrant for Sarah and Leo.” Before the assistant could nod, a burning smell came from the air vent. Smoke suddenly billowed around us. The fire doors locked automatically. The assistant shouted and ran to push the door, but it was locked from the outside. I dragged my broken body to push the windows. One, two, none would open. The assistant grabbed me, shouting, “The Madam wants to murder us…” Just as he was about to scream for help, the swaying chandelier crashed down from the ceiling, hitting him directly on the head. I stumbled over, but the heat wave burned my arm. My face stung. Sarah wanted to cut off my escape completely to buy time for her defection. I quickly covered my nose and mouth, gritting my teeth. “Sarah, you will die a horrible death!” I roared internally. I wanted to climb out the window, but saw a strange black box placed in front of it. A red light blinked a countdown. Three minutes. It was a bomb! Fear wrapped around me instantly. I felt my scalp tingle. But in this critical moment, an explosion drowned out all thought… BOOM! 4 The blast wave knocked me over. I instinctively covered my ears. Intense pain shot through every limb. I tried to open my eyes. Relying on instinct, I crawled towards the corner using my elbows and knees. The room was engulfed in flames. Sarah, you’re truly ruthless this round. That explosion was no accident. Fire alarms disabled. Security system down. People guarding outside to prevent rescue. I propped up my body and crawled into the bathroom inside the bedroom. Then I heard Sarah’s voice suddenly ring out from the direction of the main gate, cold and suppressed, but with a hint of excitement. “Check if there are any survivors.” Someone outside replied: “One man burned to death. Not sure if it’s Mr. Blackwood. Everyone else ran. Only Mr. Blackwood should still be inside.” Sarah didn’t come in immediately. She stood by my assistant’s charred body, examining it closely. A hint of secret pleasure appeared on her lips. She took out her phone and ordered calmly: “Spread the news. Julian is dead. Now, notify all bodyguards to come with me to find Old Man Blackwood.” Her deputy frowned in confusion: “CEO Sarah, isn’t the rescue team we arranged going in?” Sarah chuckled low, a flash of arrogance and madness in her eyes. “Rescue what? From now on, take our men and follow me to take down the entire Blackwood Group!” “But… the Chairman is powerful. Can our men beat him?” Sarah turned to him, her voice sharp: “Who said it’s only our men? I’ve already made a deal with Myanmar. I can use their mercenaries at will.” She had colluded with Myanmar forces in advance. In my past life, it was the mercenaries she hired who killed my father! Time ticked by. A few bodyguards pried open the escape door and dragged me out, half-carrying me. Ignoring the burning pain, I stumbled up and lowered my voice. “Call everyone! Go to the Group HQ to find my dad! Sarah wants to hurt him!” I pocketed the hard drive and got into the car with them, speeding towards the Group’s skyscraper. As soon as I got out of the car, a group of people gathered downstairs surrounded me. The ones in front were familiar faces—elders from the Vance family branch who were in the jewelry business. “Mr. Blackwood, so many of our Vance family businesses have collapsed. Now our funds are suddenly frozen, all distribution shops are closed, hundreds of people lost their jobs. How are we supposed to live?” “Exactly. We have years of friendship. Sarah is the young mistress of the Blackwood family, practically half your kin. Can’t we sit down and talk? Why make it so big…” “After all, our Vance family was kind to yours. How can you be so ungrateful? Is this how the Blackwood family burns bridges?” I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and said firmly: “Everyone, this isn’t the time to argue about this. Sarah is leading mercenaries to storm the Group building. If you have any self-awareness, mind your own business and don’t try to help her with any tricks. Otherwise, it won’t just be the Blackwoods who are buried, but the Vances too!” The Vance elders froze. The crowd behind them started to commotion. “What did you say? Sarah is cooperating with Myanmar? Isn’t that bringing shame to the Vance family?” “Yes! She previously proved the innocence of a thief from Myanmar. That already involves international crime!” The Vance uncles turned green and white. “That brat is crazy! Mr. Blackwood, no matter how incompetent we are, we cannot tolerate a traitor. Don’t let Sarah drag the Vance family down with her. We are willing to provide government and military connections. Tell us what to do, we’ll listen to you!”

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On my 28th birthday, my grandma was nagging me about getting engaged again. I took an Uber to my boyfriend’s office. Through the door, I heard him talking to a female colleague. He said I was average-looking, came from a mediocre family, and wasn’t a match for his status. He said his mother had always looked down on me, so he was hesitating about marrying me. We had been together since we were 18. Ten whole years. I never thought he was weighing the pros and cons of loving me. That night, when he came home, for the first time, I didn’t ask him about his day. I just ate in silence, showered, and went to bed. Lying in bed, he asked me, “Natalie, you’re so quiet today. You’re not throwing a tantrum and trying to break up with me, are you?” I asked him, “Do you want to break up?” Liam said, “Yeah.” Then he got up, got dressed, and went to drinks with that female colleague. I didn’t cry. I didn’t feel sad. I just opened my chat app. I scrolled to an old classmate who was desperate to get married and typed: “Want to give us a try?” 1 It was 1 AM when I sent the message, but I didn’t feel rude. I knew how much pressure Jake was under to get married. He was definitely more desperate than I was. Sure enough, a few minutes later, a reply came. “?” “Natalie, are you serious? I thought you had a boyfriend.” Me: “Just broke up. Tired of trial and error with men. If you don’t mind, we can make do.” Jake barely hesitated. A second later, he sent: “OK.” Then came a wall of text explaining his situation. “You know I’m still deployed. I’m stationed out in the Northwest, probably won’t be discharged for another year.” “After that, I don’t know if I’ll be reassigned or have to find a new job. Income is uncertain.” “I have a condo right now, my mom bought it for me, paid in full. You can live there after we marry.” “I have about $50k in savings, plus a severance package when I get out. But I don’t have the knack for making big money like your ex.” Back in the day, Jake sat behind me in class. He had seen everything between me and Liam. Since he didn’t mind, I had nothing else to say. I replied “Mmh,” and we set a time to get the license. He had a week of leave coming up. I still had time to pack and move. After handling the marriage stuff, I opened Instagram. Predictably, Liam’s female colleague, Bella, had posted a story: [Drinking away the sorrows with my childhood bestie brother.] In the photo, Liam and Bella were clinking glasses, heads touching, extremely intimate. Their breaths were mingling, and Liam’s eyes looked hazy. I liked the post. The next second, Liam texted me. [Jealous? Don’t start drama. Bella is just like a little sister to me.] Right. They grew up together. Their relationship was closer than ours. Bella looked like a porcelain doll. Liam liked her, and honestly, even I liked her looks. She studied abroad and only recently came back to work at the family company, reconnecting with Liam. I used to naively treat her like a little sister. It took a long time to realize their circle was exclusive. Before Bella came back, Liam would take me to gatherings. His friends weren’t warm, but they were polite. After Bella returned, she became the only girl in the group. Every time they went out, Liam said I didn’t like crowds and left me behind. I knew the truth. He thought I lacked social grace, wasn’t savvy, and wasn’t as smart as Bella. Liam and I fought about these unspoken comparisons many times. Every time, I was the one who compromised and backed down. So this time, when Liam assumed I was throwing a tantrum, I didn’t argue. I texted back: [Not drama. We broke up. Your business is none of my business.] Then I blocked him. Hours later, Liam stumbled home drunk and collapsed on the sofa. There was a lipstick mark on his neck. The person supporting him was Bella. Bella was a bit tipsy too. She kept apologizing, “Natalie, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop Liam from drinking. Don’t blame him.” Mmh. I’m not angry. He’s an ex-boyfriend. Nothing to be angry about. I sat Bella down in a chair and poured her a glass of honey water, treating him like a guest. “It’s fine. Doesn’t matter.” She really looked so innocent. Even if she harbored bad intentions, those misty eyes made it hard to stay mad. No wonder Liam liked her. 2 The next morning, Liam woke up with a splitting headache. He instinctively called my name. For a long time, no one answered. Stumbling out, he saw me sitting on the sofa writing on my laptop. His tone hardened. “Natalie, my head hurts.” I didn’t look up. “Mmh.” Liam paused, then said, “My head hurts. Go make me some honey lemon water.” I couldn’t be bothered. My inspiration was flowing, and I didn’t want to break it. “Make it yourself. I’m busy.” I got up and went into the study. Liam stood there, stunned. Making a hangover cure wasn’t hard. Boil water, add honey, add lemon, let it cool, drink. I had done it for him countless times. It wasn’t unique. But now that he didn’t have it, he felt empty. Remembering the breakup last night, anger rose in his chest. He went to the kitchen, got food, ate, then knocked on the study door. “Since we broke up, you should move out. My family bought this house.” He emphasized “My family bought this house.” My fingers froze on the keyboard. It felt like a stab to the heart. Together ten years. Liam knew I was an orphan who craved a family. When we moved in together, he told me that even though his name was on the deed, this was my home too. Now, one day after breaking up, he was kicking me out? I looked up. The man at the door had a stone face and cold eyes. He didn’t look at me like a lover, but with annoyance. I took a deep breath. “Okay. Can I move tomorrow? I haven’t packed.” Liam looked smug. “No. Today. We broke up, there’s no reason to live together.” I looked at him like a stranger. “Okay. Whatever you say.” They say girls without property don’t have a home. Break up, move out. Divorce, move out. Unless your name is on the deed, one word from a man and you’re homeless. I felt that deeply in this moment. After he left for work, I silently packed. Ten years. I really thought I would marry Liam, so I truly treated this place as my home. Plushies, lace curtains, cute kitchenware… packing was endless. It just got messier. My head started to hurt. Maybe just throwing it all away would be faster? Lost in thought, the doorbell rang. It was Liam’s mother. 3 She didn’t know we broke up yet. As soon as she entered, she started criticizing me out of habit. Mrs. Thorne never liked me. Every time we met, she had to act superior. I used to endure it, thinking time would make her accept me. This time, she started scolding immediately. “Natalie, you eat my son’s food, use my son’s money, how can you let the house get this messy?” “I don’t know what Liam sees in you. Average looks, no background, can’t even do housework. Useless.” “I know you had no parents to teach you, but you can’t be this sloppy. Look at this pigsty. How can anyone live here?” “Hurry up and clean this mess, then come home with me. We have guests coming. You need to cook and help out.” She rattled on like a machine gun. I didn’t even get a chance to say we broke up. Finally, when she paused for breath, I said, “I’m not going. I have things to do.” Mrs. Thorne interrupted, “What things? Writing your little stories? Fine, if you come, I’ll give you $1,000 as payment.” The $1,000 stuck my next words in my throat. Whatever. We broke up. Might as well make some money. When I got to the Thorne estate, I realized Mrs. Thorne had ulterior motives. She had invited Bella’s family for dinner and wanted me to serve them as a maid. I should have been hurt. But shrinking into the corner, watching Liam walk in with the three members of the Blackwood family, I weirdly understood what he meant by “not a match.” The elegant Blackwood parents walked in front. Bella and Liam walked side-by-side behind them, looking like a perfect young couple returning home. I had been here many times. As a teenager to stand up to them, in my twenties to make Mrs. Thorne accept me. Serving tea, washing clothes, cooking. I was as virtuous as could be. But the smile Mrs. Thorne gave me was nothing compared to the beam she gave Bella over a simple gift. The ruby necklace on Mrs. Thorne’s neck was a casual gift from the Blackwoods, worth six figures. To people like them, it was nothing. I laughed at myself. How naive I was to believe love conquered all, wasting half my life on Liam. Six more days, and I could jump out of this swamp. Even though it was a marriage of convenience with Jake, I was happy. I was a creature of habit, afraid of change. Unless absolutely necessary, I wouldn’t leave a bad situation. But now that I was really changing my life, I felt a rush of excitement. When the Blackwoods arrived, I had to leave. Mrs. Thorne venmoed me the money and told me to leave through the back door. In ten years, to prove I wasn’t a gold digger, I never accepted expensive gifts from Liam or took advantage of his family. Suddenly getting paid, I regretted it. If I knew we weren’t getting married, I should have taken more. Wasted the title of girlfriend. As I unlocked a shared e-bike, Liam chased me out. Turns out he knew I was there the whole time. Liam’s face was grim. “Natalie, where are you going?” Me: “Back to move out. Didn’t you tell me to leave? I haven’t finished packing.” Liam let out a breath. He yanked me into his arms. His tone was frustrated. “Why do you have to throw tantrums with me?” He stroked my hair like he had countless times before to soothe me. “You used to be such a good girl. Why is your temper getting worse?” “Just because I refused Grandma’s suggestion to get engaged, you act out? Can’t you be more sensible?” I turned my head, burying my face in his neck. Allowing myself one last intimate contact. “I can, Liam. I can be sensible.” Sensible enough not to put you in a tough spot, sensible enough to let you find your perfect match with Bella. He misunderstood. He thought I was compromising. He let out a long sigh of relief. “Good. My family is hosting the Blackwoods for business today. Don’t mind it.” “There’s nothing between me and Bella. I just see her as a sister. After dinner, I’ll come find you. Wait for me at home.” He kissed my forehead and turned back. I watched his tall back, remembering the boy from ten years ago who walked up to me, nervous and blushing. Voice trembling, confessing, “Class President, I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?” Once upon a time, the sea was deep. Only 3,000 days later, this relationship had reached its end. I sighed silently. Maybe love dying young is the norm. 4 Back at the apartment, I threw away what I could and packed the rest. Around 10 PM, Liam came back. The moment he walked in, his smile froze. He sighed deeply. “Natalie, I thought you said no tantrums?” I had waited so long I fell asleep. I rubbed my neck and looked at him. “No tantrums. We broke up. I have no reason to live in your house.” Liam lost his patience, tossing his jacket aside. “Fine. Whatever. But think carefully. If we break up, I won’t ask you back.” Perfect. I put the keys on the shoe cabinet in front of him and prepared to leave. Liam watched for a moment, then chased after me. He blocked my path, annoyed. “What do I have to do to make you listen?” Acting like I was being unreasonable. I laughed out of anger. “Oh, get engaged to me, and I won’t fuss.” Liam gritted his teeth. “Natalie, give me more time to get used to the idea. Right now, I really don’t think you’re a suitable marriage partner.” What is a suitable marriage partner? I couldn’t tell. The first time I heard the term was five years ago. Grandma had heart surgery. Afraid she’d die leaving me alone, she wanted to put marriage on the agenda. Back then, Liam and I were still good. Hearing marriage, he froze, hugged me, and didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, he said, “Nat, let me discuss it with my parents and get back to you, okay?” I nodded, fully believing he would plan our future. But in reality, Liam’s attitude changed after that. He was still gentle, but whenever engagement or marriage came up, he changed the subject. If I pushed, he got angry. “Look, you don’t have a stable job or income. Are we a good match right now? What would my parents think?” “Nat, I’ve been holding back, but you really aren’t suited for marriage. You don’t dress up, you don’t network, and you don’t understand business. You’re no help to the Thorne family.” He belittled me, but when I broke down and tried to leave, he would write long essays to win me back. I always thought the root of his hesitation was Mrs. Thorne. Until Bella returned. Liam’s attitude did a 180. He showed me with actions what a “suitable marriage partner” looked like. No matter how much a man loves you, it doesn’t stop him from weighing the pros and cons and pursuing a better life. I left the apartment I lived in for years. Since Jake wasn’t back yet, I rented a small Airbnb. Counting my savings, I thought about putting a down payment on a place in the South End. Since Jake was rarely home, it didn’t matter where we lived. I opened Zillow and actually found a few good ones. I booked viewings and finished the final draft of my third web novel while staying in the rental.

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“You think being their real daughter means anything?” Stella’s voice was a shard of glass, sharp enough to pierce my eardrums. I shot her a cold look, clutching my puppy, Buddy, a little tighter, and moved to pass her on the other side of the grand staircase. But just as I drew level with her, she let out a piercing shriek and, as if her balance had vanished, tumbled down the stairs. “Stella!” My brother Julian’s voice cracked through the air. He scrambled down the steps, gathering her into his arms. Stella clutched her head, tears streaking her face. “Julian, don’t blame Aria,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “It was my own fault, I was careless…” But her eyes darted toward me, glittering with triumph. Julian’s head snapped up, his gaze cutting into me like a knife. I opened my mouth to protest, to explain, but the words were trapped in my throat, choked by a knot of disbelief and despair. “Aria Paige!” His voice was glacial fury. “How could you be so heartless to your own sister? Just wait until I get back. You’ll pay for this.” With that, he swept Stella into his arms and rushed out the door. I stood frozen on the landing, a bitter storm raging inside me. Why? Why could they never see the truth? It wasn’t long before my father returned, flanked by two of the household staff. His face was a thundercloud, dark and menacing. “Take her outside,” he commanded, his voice devoid of any warmth. “She will kneel.” I rose silently and let them lead me out. The snow was coming down hard now, a swirling white blanket that settled on my shoulders and sent shivers wracking through my body. Buddy must have sensed my cold and loneliness. He pressed his small, warm body against my leg, a futile but touching attempt to share his warmth. I reached down and stroked his head, a wave of affection washing over me. But the warmth of that small gesture was quickly extinguished by the brutal reality of my situation. My parents were at the hospital with Stella, leaving me to kneel alone in the blizzard. I stared up at the endless cascade of snowflakes, my heart a hollow cavern of desolation. Stella was the daughter of our family’s chauffeur. Five years ago, he’d died in a car crash while protecting my father. Even though it was later discovered he’d been driving drunk, my father, in a grand gesture of “humanitarianism,” adopted his orphaned daughter. The first time I met her, she hid behind my father, peeking out at me with wide, curious eyes. “Aria,” my father had said with a smile, “from now on, this is your little sister, Stella. I want you to take good care of her.” I was ecstatic. “That’s wonderful! I finally have a sister!” I’d thrown my arms around her, never suspecting that this was the beginning of a nightmare. At first, Stella shadowed my every move, and I was happy to have a playmate. Until one day. I watched with my own eyes as she deliberately pushed her own music box off the edge of her desk. It shattered on the floor. I stared at her, stunned, but she had already spun around to face my older brothers, Alex and Julian. “Alex! Julian! Look what Aria did! She broke my music box!” They rushed in at the sound of her cry. Seeing the broken pieces on the floor and Stella’s tear-streaked face, they didn’t hesitate. “Aria! How could you do that to your sister?” “I didn’t! She pushed it herself!” I protested, but Julian cut me off. “You’re the older sister, Aria! You should be more mature!” I looked desperately to my mother, hoping she would see the truth. But she only had eyes for Stella, rushing to her side. “Oh, Stella, darling, don’t cry. Are you hurt? Let Mommy see…” “Mommy, that was my favorite music box,” Stella sobbed, burying her face in my mother’s embrace, her small body shaking with manufactured grief. “My daddy gave it to me for my birthday. When I looked at it, I felt like he was still with me. I took such good care of it, and I saw her… I saw Aria smash it!” My brothers gathered around her, cooing and comforting her. They looked like a perfect family, and I was on the outside, separated from them by an invisible wall. I stared at Stella as if seeing her for the first time. The girl who had always trailed behind me, calling me “big sister,” had finally shown her true colors. My mother’s gaze turned on me, hard and severe. “When did you become so cruel? I am so disappointed in you. Go to your room and think about what you’ve done.” Before I could utter another word, she shoved me into my room and locked the door. It was the first time she had ever treated me that way. At that moment, I felt like my world was collapsing. I didn’t realize it was only the beginning. In the years that followed, such “misunderstandings” became the norm, leaving me increasingly isolated in my own home. Slowly but surely, my parents and brothers began to dote on Stella, sometimes forgetting I even existed. I went from being the apple of their eye to a stone in their shoe. One day, Stella paraded in front of me in a custom-designed dress, her voice dripping with malice. “Mom and Dad had this made just for me. I’m going to take everything that’s yours, Aria.” She stared at me, waiting for a reaction. When my face remained impassive, her triumphant smirk soured into a scowl. “Do you still think you’re the princess of this house? Dream on. You’re not even worthy of being my servant!” She stormed off, leaving her poison hanging in the air. At first, I thought it was just a child’s fantasy, that my parents wouldn’t take her seriously. But I was wrong. They granted her every wish. One day, on the flimsy pretext that “Aria doesn’t want to go to school with me,” they transferred me to the worst high school in the city. They didn’t even consult me. By the time I found out, the paperwork was already done. I stormed into my father’s study to confront him. He just looked at me, his eyes cold and distant. In the reflection of his indifferent pupils, I was nothing but a hysterical clown. “Stop this madness,” he said flatly. “As if you deserve to be in the city’s best school.” As if you deserve it. Those words shattered me. He was the one who used to tell me I deserved the very best the world had to offer. I turned my tear-filled eyes on Stella. “This was you, wasn’t it? What did you do?” Before I could say more, my father’s hand swung through the air. The slap was so hard the world dissolved into a dull roar, the edges of my vision blurring. In the last moment before I blacked out, I saw Stella’s mocking smile and the look of utter disgust on my father’s face. My brothers? They wished I was dead. No matter how poorly Stella did in school, they would pull her into a hug and comfort her. “Our little princess already has a family that adores her. Even if you fail every test, we’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” But if my grades slipped even slightly, I was locked in the confinement room for a day and a night without food. When I was finally let out, my brothers would sneer, “You’re nothing like a Paige. You’re not as pretty as Stella, not as sweet as Stella. Why don’t you just die?” They had no idea what it was like in that tiny, three-square-meter room. It was torture. My sight was stolen by the absolute darkness, leaving me with only the faint sensations of touch and sound to confirm I still existed. The gnawing emptiness in my stomach eroded my sanity. I’d curl into a ball, hugging my belly as if that could stop the hunger. I tried to distract myself, but the darkness and starvation were twin blades, carving away at my body and my mind. In that suffocating space, there was nothing but despair. I would eventually break, clawing at the door, sobbing out apologies for crimes I didn’t commit, only to be met with even more brutal humiliation upon my release. My brothers would look at me as if I were something crawling out of a sewer. “Looks like we’ll have to do this more often,” they’d say with a cruel chuckle. “Seeing her like this is actually kind of fun.” On Stella’s birthday, they made me walk ten miles to buy her a cake. They had completely forgotten that it was my birthday, too. When I finally limped home, my feet raw and bleeding, clutching the cake box, I found them all gathered around Stella, singing “Happy Birthday.” A different, much more extravagant cake sat glowing in front of her. Of course. Stella didn’t need me to buy her a cake. It was just another way to torture me. “What took you so long?” Alex sneered as he and Julian approached. “We wouldn’t eat anything you touched anyway. It’s disgusting.” He knocked the cake from my hands, sending it splattering across the floor. He didn’t even try to hide his malice. “Too bad you didn’t get hit by a car on the way, huh? Hahahaha!” After they left, I knelt and dipped my finger into the ruined frosting on the floor, then brought it to my lips. So sweet. And yet, so bitter. Stella lived a life of effortless luxury. All she had to do was pout, and the world was handed to her on a silver platter. I accepted it. I knew that the unwanted have no right to ask for anything. But even that wasn’t enough for her. One morning at breakfast, Stella emerged from her room looking pale and unsteady. My mother rushed to her side. “Stella, darling, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” Stella collapsed into her arms. “Mommy, the light in my room is so bad. I can’t sleep at night.” Her eyes flickered to me. “Aria looks so well-rested. Her room must get wonderful sunlight.” She put on that innocent face again, the one that made it seem like the entire world should bend to her will. I looked at her, a cold laugh bubbling in my chest. That room? The room my parents had designed for me themselves, the one they swore would always be mine, even after I was married? She thought she could take that? But to my horror, my mother didn’t even glance at me. “Aria, pack your things. You’re giving your room to your sister.” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Mom, have you forgotten?” “Forgotten what?” she snapped, her patience gone. “Can’t you see your sister is unwell? Now hurry up and move out!” “You and Dad promised that room would always be mine! I’m not leaving!” I ran to the room and locked the door, as if that could keep my mother’s love from slipping away, too. I heard Stella’s choked sobs from the hallway. “Mommy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make Aria angry. Did I do something wrong?” “Oh, my sweet girl, of course you didn’t do anything wrong! Mommy will make her move. I won’t let my precious daughter suffer for a second!” But I was her daughter. Her real daughter. She used to call me her precious girl. Why had everything changed? A few minutes later, a key turned in the lock. Alex and Julian dragged me out and threw me into a dusty storage closet. “You had your chance to do this the easy way,” Alex grunted. “You should be grateful Stella even wants your room. From now on, you can sleep in here with the junk.” By the second year of Stella’s arrival, I had become utterly despised. I had four more years of this hell to endure. At first, I argued. But after suffering more and more humiliation from my own family, I learned to be silent. I hid my face behind a curtain of hair and sealed myself away in my own mind. I no longer had a place in this home. I was an intruder. The snow fell heavier. Kneeling in the freezing cold, I felt like a forgotten ship, foundering in an icy sea. Snowflakes landed on my eyebrows and shoulders, melting into a chilling dampness that seeped into my bones. I weakly raised a hand to push Buddy away. “Go on, Buddy. Go back inside. You’ll get frostbite.” But the little dog just whined, circling me anxiously and tugging at my shirt, trying to pull me back toward the house. I used the last of my strength to stroke his fur. “I’m sorry, Buddy. I’m just so tired. So very tired. This time… I don’t think I can hold on.” Meanwhile, Stella was lying in a warm hospital bed, surrounded by my family, showered with concern, the room filled with flowers and baskets of fruit. I don’t know how much time passed. My consciousness began to fade. In the haze, I saw a memory: me as a little girl, perched on my father’s shoulders under a soft sunset glow. My small hands were tangled in his hair, feeling completely safe and secure. “Ready for liftoff, my little bird?” he’d say, holding my legs steady. My mother would be watching from the sofa, her smile warm and gentle. My brothers would be building with blocks nearby, calling out, “Daddy, we want to give Aria a piggyback ride, too!” “Haha, you two are still too small,” my father would laugh, his voice full of love. “When you’re bigger, you can carry your sister all you want.” Every step he took was firm and steady, careful not to jostle his precious cargo. Why? How did it come to this? The memories of the past five years flashed through my mind, ending with my father’s disappointed glare and my brothers’ undisguised disgust. Finally, I closed my eyes. It’s better this way. When you’re dead, nothing can hurt anymore. A small smile touched my lips as I collapsed into the snow.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387762”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The seventh year Sophia was abroad, the year her heart, which I’d shattered, finally healed enough for her to bring a new boyfriend home to meet her parents, was also the year the hospital gave me my final verdict. Seven years of fighting cancer, and I had lost. I could go home to die. When she saw my mother wheeling me out, Sophia’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Well, well. Seven years. You look like hell. Can’t even walk on your own two feet now?” Her voice dripped with contempt, but I just calmly tugged the sleeve of my puffer jacket down, hiding the dense constellation of needle marks on the back of my hand. “It’s nothing. I took a bad fall, just a fracture.” Another smirk. “Since you’re so fragile, you can be a groomsman for my fiancé. I’m getting married soon, you know.” I managed a weak, placid smile. “I can’t. I have to go somewhere… very far away.” With that, I patted my mother’s hand, a silent plea for her to wheel me home, now. 1 Back home, my mother had just helped me into bed when Sophia’s mother showed up at our door. She stepped inside, her eyes darting toward me, her words hesitant. “Liam, I… I have a favor to ask. An improper one.” Her face was flushed. She didn’t have to say another word. I knew. It was the same look she’d worn seven years ago. I remembered it perfectly. The moment she’d learned about my diagnosis, she’d burst into my hospital room, frantic, a shadow of guilt in her eyes. I hadn’t even processed the word ‘cancer’ myself. I was terrified, sobbing like my life was already over, and she just dropped to her knees in front of me. “Liam, I’m begging you. Don’t drag Sophia down with you. She just got her acceptance letter. If she finds out you have cancer, she’ll never leave.” “You and Sophia grew up together, you’ve been in love for so long. Please, for my sake, don’t ruin her future. Break up with her. Please.” “I’ve already worked it all out. I’ve arranged for a girl to help. All you have to do is pretend to kiss her downstairs. Let Sophia ‘catch’ you. Then you just have to pretend to break her heart.” Because of her words, the first thing I did after my diagnosis wasn’t to seek treatment. It was to stage a cold, cruel betrayal. I forced a breakup, and with it, I forced Sophia out of the country. Just as I expected, Sophia’s mother finally got the words out, her voice thick with feigned remorse. “Liam, don’t blame me. I have no choice. Sophia’s fiancé now… he was with her through grad school and his PhD. They’re a perfect match in every way. I just… I can’t let anything ruin such a perfect marriage.” She wrung her hands. “You know how attached she’s always been to you. If… if she found out the truth about what happened back then, I’m afraid… I’m so afraid…” Her eyes hardened. “So, can you just avoid seeing her for a while? You’re… you’re dying anyway, aren’t you? It’s not like you should be going out much. Right?” At the word “dying,” my mother snapped. She slammed a pack of my adult diapers onto the bed, her body trembling with rage. Seeing she was about to explode, I quickly grabbed her arm, then turned my calm gaze to Sophia’s mother. “Ma’am, I can promise you I won’t tell Sophia the truth about seven years ago. But I can’t promise not to see her.” I couldn’t. For seven agonizing years, there wasn’t a moment I didn’t think of her. When the chemo became unbearable, I would clutch an old photo of us, the faded image giving me the strength to endure. I’d gone through dozens of surgeries, big and small. A few times, I was rushed to the ER, slipping away, unable to wake up. It was my mother’s voice, raw and desperate at my bedside, that pulled me back. “Liam, don’t you remember? You promised you would live! You said you’d go find her, clear up the misunderstanding yourself!” “You promised that when you were better, I would take you to find her! If you die, you’ll never see Sophia again!” Her cries, always laced with Sophia’s name, were the lifeline that dragged me back from the brink, time and time again. But in the end, I still lost the fight. And Sophia had a new life, a new love. She was getting married. Still, just to be near her for a little while, in my final days… that would be enough. It was why, when the doctor said leaving the hospital meant certain death, I still forced myself out of that bed. I had to see her. 2 I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Just after Sophia’s mother left, I drifted into an exhausted sleep. When I woke, I heard her voice outside my room. Sophia’s voice. In my home. I was stunned. Seven years ago, she hated me with every fiber of her being. She’d stood outside my door for three days and three nights, her face streaked with tears, demanding to know why I betrayed her. When I coldly told her I didn’t love her anymore, she slapped me, her hand shaking, over and over again. After that, she couldn’t even stand the sight of me. If she saw me in the hallway, she’d turn and walk the other way. Passing my apartment, she’d physically cringe. She stopped going to the corner store we used to visit together. The mere mention of my name was enough to make her snap at whoever said it. “Why are you talking about Liam? You might not find it disgusting, but I do.” The day she left for the airport, I ran out in a downpour, desperate for one last look. When she saw me, she just scoffed, took off the matching ring we’d bought together, and smashed it on the ground at my feet along with the phone that held all our photos. Then she walked away without a backward glance. But now, seven years later, she was here. It only took a moment, peering through the crack in my bedroom door, to understand why. She was holding her fiancé’s hand tightly. “Auntie, are you still upset about what happened seven years ago? Is that why you don’t want Liam to help us pick a wedding planner and rings?” She sounded so reasonable, so detached. “I’m over Liam. We grew up together, after all. If we can’t be lovers, we can at least be friends.” The man beside her, Ryan, chimed in smoothly. “It’s alright, Ma’am. Sophia told me all about her history with Liam. I know he cheated back then, but they were young. It takes two to tango, I’m sure Sophia wasn’t perfect either.” He smiled, a perfect, charming smile. “Besides, I should thank him. If he hadn’t let Sophia go, I never would have met such an amazing woman.” He put his arm around her. “So really, there’s no need to dwell on the past. It was my idea to ask Liam for help. We’ve been out of the country for seven years, we’re out of touch. We can’t just let the older generation decide everything, their sense of style is… a little dated.” Seven years ago, my greatest wish was for Sophia to forget me, to move on. But hearing her speak of our past so calmly, hearing her share our story with another man… a thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart. My mother, however, was focused on Ryan’s words. Cheated. Let her go. Her eyes flared with rage. Her lips trembled, and she finally roared at Sophia. “You’re just as shameless as your mother!” My heart seized. I forced my weak body to sit up. “Mom,” I called out, my voice strained. “Come in here. Help me into my wheelchair. I’ll talk to them.” 3 My mother came in, her face still a mask of fury. But I just reached out and hugged her. “Mom, please. Let me do this. Think of it as… my dying wish.” Her eyes instantly welled with tears, but she nodded. She went to the closet, got my wig, and helped me into my jacket. The moment she wheeled me out, Sophia’s brow furrowed. “What is wrong with you? You were lazy as a kid, and you’re even lazier now. It’s just a broken leg. You’re making your mother wait on you hand and foot at her age.” Her disgust was a physical blow. I forced a smile. “The doctor said it’s a bad break. I have to stay off it for a while.” Ryan stepped forward, his expression all sympathy. “Don’t mind Sophia, Liam. She got used to being blunt overseas. She’s like this with everyone.” He grinned, adding, “Except me, of course.” A fresh wave of bitterness washed over me. Sophia was cold to everyone, it was true. But with me, before… I pushed the thought away and looked at Ryan. “Are you sure you want me to help you pick a wedding planner?” “Of course, of course,” he said, nodding eagerly. I nodded back. “If you really need me, I’ll go with you.” After a few more minutes of strained pleasantries, they left. That night, my phone rang. It was Sophia. She told me to be ready tomorrow. We were going to the wedding planner’s office. My fingers gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. I was greedy for the sound of her voice, but my stomach was in knots. It had been seven years since I’d heard her speak to me like this, one-on-one, over the phone. We used to do it every night, tucked into our beds, her voice lulling me to sleep. As I was lost in the memory, a man’s voice echoed faintly through the receiver. “Sophia, come on. Let me dry your hair…” The sound jolted me back to reality. “Okay,” I managed to choke out. The second she heard my reply, she hung up. The dial tone droned in my ear. A familiar sting pricked my eyes, and I fought to swallow the tears back down. I’d prepared myself for this. But seeing it, hearing it—the girl who was once my entire world now belonging to someone else—it still hurt more than I could have imagined. 4 Sophia had told me to be ready at 10 a.m. Anxious, I had my mom wheel me downstairs at 9:30, just to be safe. But by noon, she still hadn’t shown up. The calls I made went straight to voicemail. My mother tried to coax me back upstairs several times, but I refused. It had taken so much of my dwindling strength just to get out of the apartment. This might be my last time outdoors. I wasn’t going to waste it. Finally, at 1 p.m., my phone rang. It was Sophia. They were on their way down. My mom was visibly upset, and it took all my effort to convince her to put on a neutral face. Once I was settled in the back seat of their car, Ryan turned to me with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that, Liam. Sophia and I… well, we were up a little late last night. We both overslept this morning. Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long.” My hand clenched into a fist in my lap. From the driver’s seat, Sophia glanced at me in the rearview mirror, her expression cold. “Why are you explaining anything to him?” she said flatly to Ryan. The words were like a shard of ice in my chest. I said nothing, just turned and waved a final, weak goodbye to my mother on the curb. Sophia drove fast, erratically. The car lurched and swayed, and a familiar wave of nausea rose in my throat. I gritted my teeth and held it down. I couldn’t help but remember. Seven years ago, when she first got her license, she would drive me everywhere in her dad’s car. She knew I got carsick easily, so she always drove with painstaking care, smooth and steady. I always got sick in taxis and buses, but never, not once, in Sophia’s car. Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes. My weak body, unable to brace itself, was thrown hard against the seatback. A violent heave convulsed my stomach, and a soft whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it. Sophia heard it. A cruel laugh echoed from the front seat. “What, Liam? Did you really think I’d still drive carefully for you? No sudden stops, no sharp turns?” I silently wiped away a tear that had escaped and traced a path down my temple. “No,” I said, my voice steady. “You should be careful for Ryan now. He’s the one you’re with.” She laughed again, a sharp, bitter sound. “You’re damn right about that.” Then she floored it. My body slammed against the seat again, a sharp pain radiating through my back. But this time, a small, sad smile touched my lips. Hate was better than indifference. At least in her heart, while I was still alive, I still held a place. 5 The agonizing drive didn’t last much longer. We arrived at our destination. Ryan helped me out of the car while Sophia unfolded my wheelchair. For a fleeting second, as she leaned over me, I caught the scent of her hair, that familiar, light fragrance. My eyes burned, and for a moment, I thought I would break down. I used to love burying my face in her hair, kissing the top of her head. The moment was gone as quickly as it came. They settled me into the chair and immediately stepped back. Sophia pulled two wet wipes from her purse and began scrubbing her hands with a frantic energy. Ryan gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry about that, Liam. She’s a bit of a germaphobe. Can’t stand being touched by any man… except for me.” I looked down, my jaw tight, pretending I hadn’t seen her disgusted scrubbing, pretending I hadn’t heard his words. I let them wheel me into a Chinese restaurant, their hands linked together. At the table, Sophia took charge, ordering several spicy dishes without even glancing at the menu. I recognized them immediately. My heart sank. I never ate spicy food. She never used to, either. It was painfully obvious who they were for. I wasn’t about to torture myself. These days, even eating was a struggle, let alone something so harsh. I quietly asked the waiter for a simple, clear vegetable soup. For some reason, this set Sophia off. “You’re already thin as a ghost, and now you’re eating like a rabbit.” Her sudden, sharp concern sent a wave of bittersweet warmth through my chest. But it vanished as quickly as it came. I smiled faintly. “Jessica likes me lean. Says I’ll look better in a tux when we get married.” Jessica. The name Sophia’s mother had fabricated for my affair. The girl I hadn’t seen since Sophia left the country. Sophia’s face went pale with rage. Ryan immediately jumped in, laughing it off. “Don’t mind her, Liam. Sophia’s a doctor now, so she gets worked up whenever she sees someone dieting. She used to yell at me about it all the time back in the States.” He turned to her, his smile unwavering. “Right, Sophia?” But Sophia wasn’t looking at him. She shot to her feet, shoving her chair back with a screech. “I’m going to the restroom.” Without another glance at either of us, she stalked away. Watching her retreating back, a familiar ache spread through me. Had I screwed it up again? Ruined her new life, sabotaged her new love? Guilt churned in my stomach. Across the table, Ryan’s smile vanished. He picked up a glass of hot water and, in one swift motion, flung it directly in my face. “You think I’m an idiot, Liam?” he hissed, his voice low and menacing. “Playing the victim, trying to win my fiancée back with your little pity party.” The hot water stung my skin, but I just clenched my fists, my voice filled with genuine remorse. “I’m sorry. If I gave you the wrong impression, I apologize.” He scoffed and stood up, circling the table to loom over me. He grabbed the collar of my shirt, twisting it tight. “You think faking a broken leg is going to make her come running back to you?” “Let me tell you something. Sophia is mine for life. Don’t think you can just waltz back in and snatch her away because you were her first love.” His grip tightened, cutting off my air. I could tolerate the water; I deserved it for indulging my selfish desire to be near her. But I didn’t want a public scene. I just wanted a few peaceful moments. I tried to stay calm, patting his hand weakly. “Ryan, I’m sorry. I really am.” But then he let out a short, sharp laugh. Before I could react, he released my collar and slammed his fist into my nose. A blinding flash of pain, and blood gushed warm and sticky down my face. On instinct, I shoved him back. “What are you doing? Touch me again and I’m calling the police.” But as my hand made contact, something bizarre happened. Ryan stumbled backward as if hit by a truck, crashing into the wall behind him. His head hit the plaster with a sickening thud, and he slid to the floor, blood trickling from his forehead. “Help!” he screamed, his voice filled with theatrical panic. “He’s trying to kill me! Someone help!” I stared at my hands in disbelief. I’d been sick for seven years. Getting dressed was exhausting. Sometimes I couldn’t even hold a glass of water steady. There was no way I had the strength to push him that hard. My shove had been defensive, a desperate attempt to create space. While I was still reeling, Sophia reappeared. She saw Ryan on the floor and rushed to his side. “Ryan! Ryan, are you okay?” He clutched her hand, his face a mask of pain and fear. “Sophia… it was Liam. He’s trying to kill me.” His words came out in ragged gasps. “The moment you left, he started insulting me. He said you were just trash he threw away, that he could have you back anytime he wanted and you’d come crawling back. I couldn’t take it… I threw some water on him.” “But that just made him angrier! He called me a worthless piece of crap, a loser who picks up his sloppy seconds! I lost my temper and I hit him. And then… then he just shoved me. He threw me against the wall.” I listened, frozen, as his lies filled the air. My lips trembled, and it took several tries before I could form words. “Sophia, listen to me… it wasn’t like that.” “I… I didn’t.” Her face contorted into a mask of pure fury. “You are the most vile person I have ever known, Liam!” she shrieked, her voice echoing through the restaurant. “Seven years ago, you shamelessly cheated on me with another woman. And now that I’m about to get married, you decide you want me back? You attack my fiancé?” She marched over to me, her hand flashing out, slapping me hard across the face, once, twice, three times. Then, with a furious scream, she grabbed the back of my wheelchair and shoved it with all her might. The chair slammed into the table. Dishes shattered on the floor. The table overturned, and my wheelchair tipped with it. My head struck the corner of the table with a sickening crack, and the world exploded in a flash of white. My ears rang, my body convulsed. Through a blurry haze, I saw Sophia ignore me completely. She was on the floor, cradling Ryan, kissing his forehead as he moaned about his head hurting. “Ryan, honey, are you okay? I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” She helped him to his feet, and without a single glance back at me, they left. As they disappeared through the door, I saw Ryan look over his shoulder, a triumphant, mocking smile on his face. And I… I started to laugh. A wet, broken laugh that turned into tears. I remembered my senior year of high school. I’d taken a job as a busboy at a bar to save up for Sophia’s graduation present. One night, a customer with certain… tastes… wouldn’t leave me alone. I fought him off, throwing a dozen punches, but he left my face a swollen, bloody mess. When I got home, Sophia took one look at me and burst into tears. She kissed every bruise, every cut on my face, sobbing into my chest, asking me why I would be so stupid, why I would get so hurt over a stupid gift. Back then, her world revolved around me. Now, her world revolved around another man. My heart ached with a pain that felt like it was tearing me apart, but underneath it, there was a strange sense of relief. It was good. The girl I loved more than life itself would have someone else to cherish her, to love her with that same intensity, long after I was gone. The world was spinning. Blood and tears mixed, dripping from my face. Restaurant staff were gathering around me. I could feel my life draining away, a familiar sensation from all the times I’d almost given up. But I couldn’t close my eyes. I had to protect her. I couldn’t let the girl I loved get in trouble because of me. Staying conscious was agony, but I held on. I had to. Finally, the flashing lights of an ambulance, the uniforms of paramedics and police. Strength gave out. I grabbed an officer’s arm, my grip surprisingly tight. “Tell my mother… not to press charges,” I rasped, each word a monumental effort. “Tell her… this was my choice.” “Tell her… I’m sorry. I… I can’t be with her anymore.” My heart felt hollow, but strangely, there were no regrets. I had fought cancer for seven years, waited for seven years, all for one dream. To see Sophia one last time. I had seen her. My dream was fulfilled. It was enough.

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It was the second year of my mission to seduce the Hero, and I had accidentally fallen for the Villain. He was obedient, sweet-talking, and knew exactly how to look at me with those puppy-dog eyes. He’d beg for hugs and cling to me like his life depended on it. We had been fooling around for a month when the Hero, face black as thunder, threw me over his shoulder and carried me back to my room. “Have you had enough fun yet?” he gritted out through clenched teeth. Before I could answer, the heavy oak doors of the chamber were blasted off their hinges. The Villain stood in the doorway, a terrifyingly charming smile on his face. “Asking that now… don’t you think it’s a little too late?” 1 The Order of the Silver Flame accepted a new recruit. Rumor had it he was gorgeous—pale skin, red lips, the works. I caught a glimpse of him passing the training grounds. The rumors didn’t do him justice. He was surrounded by a crowd, but his eyes locked onto mine from across the field. He bowed slightly, flashing a smile that was equal parts innocent and mischievous. Like a little fox. I nodded politely, turned around, and walked away. Inside my head, I was screaming at the interface. System! System! I want to switch targets! I want to switch targets right now! The System finally pinged. [System: Sorry, Host. You don’t have enough points for that transaction.] How many am I short? [System: Only 50 points! Just complete the main quest and you’ll have plenty!] Useless. Absolutely useless. I rubbed my temples. Five years ago, I transmigrated into this fantasy romance novel. No cheats, no inventory, no System. Just when I accepted my fate as a background character, sweeping floors for three years, the System finally booted up. [System: Hiii! Sorry I’m late! I’m Seven, your Romance Guide!] I threw my broom. Late? You call three years late? [System: Spatial turbulence, you know how it is. Anyway, your mission is to conquer the Male Lead. Make him fall at your feet!] I sighed. Who is he? [System: Look up!] I looked. Walking down the marble stairs was a man in pristine white armor. Handsome, yes. But cold. Frozen. Kaelen. The High Commander. The “Ice Prince.” He cared about nothing but duty, honor, and slaying monsters. He was famously celibate. I turned around to leave. Forget it. I’d rather die. [System: Then you will be struck by lightning as a penalty.] I spun back around with a bright smile. Challenge accepted. So, I spent two years chasing Kaelen. I climbed the ranks from a servant to an elite soldier just to be his adjutant. But the guy was a stone wall. Zero romantic progress. So, I gave up. I started “quiet quitting.” 2 I was lounging in a tree on Skyfall Peak, eating grapes, when a loud crash shook the forest. I levitated over to investigate. Someone was face-planted in the dirt, legs kicking in the air. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Senior…” a muffled voice came from the ground. “A little help?” I cast a simple wind spell to pull him out. It was the new kid. His hair was messy, a few leaves stuck to his cheek, but he still looked devastatingly pretty. His eyes were wet, like a startled deer. “Sorry, Senior,” he said, dusting himself off. “I hit the barrier while practicing my flight spell.” “You’re the new recruit?” He nodded eagerly. “Name?” “Damon,” he said, eyes curving into crescents. Ding. [System: New Character Unlocked: Damon. Role: The Main Villain.] My smile froze. Damon? The Shadow Lord? The guy rumored to be a bloodthirsty, ruthless monster with fangs? I looked at the boy in front of me. He looked like a cinnamon roll. Then I noticed his wrist was bruised purple. “You’re hurt,” I said. Minutes later, I was leading the Big Bad Wolf to the infirmary. Villain or not, building connections never hurt. Damon followed me like a lost puppy. While I applied the salve, he winced. I decided to tease him and pressed a little harder. He bit his lip, eyes reddening. “Senior… gentle, please.” Oh, god. My heart skipped a beat. “I’m still bad at flying,” he whispered, tugging my sleeve. “Can you teach me?” I cleared my throat. “Come to Skyfall Peak every evening at sunset. I’ll teach you.” He beamed. “Senior, you’re the best!” 3 The next evening, Damon arrived with his training sword. He learned fast. Too fast. I suspected he was faking his incompetence. He was the Shadow Lord, after all. “Look, Senior!” he shouted, spinning in the air. Suddenly, he wobbled and plummeted. I flew up to catch him princess-style, but at the last second, he twisted and wrapped his arms around my waist. We floated down together, spinning slowly. Definite on purpose. “Don’t underestimate me, Senior,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. I pushed him away, face heating up. “Focus!” From then on, he came every day. He brought snacks. He covered me with his cloak when I napped. One night, while I was getting ready for bed, I heard a thud at my window. “Who is it?” I grabbed my robe. “S-sorry! I brought fresh fruit…” I opened the window. Damon stood there, blushing, holding a basket of glowing moon-pears. His collar was loose, exposing his collarbones. I took the fruit and flicked his forehead. “Use the door next time.” He nodded and ran away. [System: Host, remember the mission! You’ve been fooling around with the Villain for a month! Progress with Kaelen is zero!] Mute. 4 The Grand Tournament was approaching. Kaelen was busy hunting demons. I was relaxing under a pear tree when a figure materialized out of thin air. Damon. But today he wasn’t wearing the standard recruit uniform. He wore black silk robes embroidered with dark gold. He looked dangerous. And beautiful. “You look good,” I said honestly. He smiled, flashing into the seat next to me. “I’m glad you like it.” He looked at the grapes in my hand. “Senior, feed me?” I tossed him one. He shook his head. “I want to taste the one in your mouth.” I choked. This was… aggressive. Before I could respond, the System screamed. [System: Kaelen incoming! Kaelen incoming!] I jumped up. Kaelen stood under the archway, radiating frost. His expression was darker than I’d ever seen. “Master Kaelen,” I bowed. He ignored me, glaring at Damon. “Who are you?” “Damon,” he replied cheerfully. “Nice to meet you, High Commander.” “Skyfall Peak is restricted,” Kaelen said, ice in his voice. “Get out.” Damon blinked, then leaned closer to me. “Senior said I could come.” Did he just throw me under the bus? Kaelen looked at me. “Is this true?” “He… he just came for sword lessons…” “Lessons?” Kaelen scoffed. Damon pouted. “Senior… he’s so scary.” Kaelen’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. “You’ve been bewitched by this boy for a month?” Damon tried to hook his pinky with mine. Shing. Kaelen’s sword unsheathed, pointing straight at Damon’s throat. “Back off.” Damon chuckled. His form dissolved into black mist. “See you tomorrow, Senior.”

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1 For the third time, Scott Cole, Celine’s junior from college, called asking for money to cover his gambling debts. I tried to reason with her. “An addict will only fall deeper if you keep enabling him. We should get Scott into rehab.” “Besides,” I added, “we don’t have the money. The last time, you had to borrow thirty thousand dollars from your friends to help him. This time he’s asking for over a hundred thousand.” Celine just shot me a glare, her beautiful eyes flashing with anger. “Can’t you have a little compassion? Scott is my friend! Is it a crime to want to help?” “And anyway,” she scoffed, “we’re already in deep. What’s a little more debt?” Watching her grab her coat and hurry out into the cold night, a wave of disappointment washed over me. I shook my head. “Celine,” I said, my voice low. “It’s not compassion. You’ve just had a change of heart.” … Celine didn’t return until dawn, and she wasn’t alone. Scott. He gave me a sheepish grin. “Hey, Noah. Mind if I crash here for a few days?” There was a faint note of mockery in his voice that didn’t escape me. “Why would I mind? You’re practically family,” Celine said, brushing past me. She turned and snapped, “What are you standing there for? Go make some soup to warm Scott up. Can’t you see his hands are frozen?” “Oh, and don’t use any shrimp,” she added quickly. “Scott’s been having skin allergies.” Listening to her fuss over him, her voice filled with a tenderness she no longer showed me, I felt the cold wind from the open door seep deep into my bones. I must have been staring, because she frowned and shoved me toward the kitchen. “Scott is my friend from college,” she warned, her voice low and tight. “Don’t you dare start anything. Push me, and I’ll file for divorce.” She spun around and left me there. Any time an argument involved Scott, the word “divorce” was her weapon of choice. Like the time I’d objected to her borrowing money to pay off his debts. Or when they were acting out a scene during a murder mystery game night with her friends, and I had to step in when the others goaded them into a near-kiss. She was always the one being irrational, yet somehow, I was always the one to blame. I reheated last night’s leftovers and brought them out. Celine was busy fussing with Scott’s clothes. “I can’t believe this sweater fits you perfectly,” she said, her voice bright. “It looks great on you!” It was the sweater she’d given me for my birthday. I hadn’t even had a chance to wear it yet. They laughed and chatted for a full five minutes before they even noticed me standing there, watching them. A flicker of embarrassment crossed Celine’s face before she saw the leftovers on the table. Her expression soured instantly. “Noah Beck!” she snapped, her eyebrows knitting together. “What is this supposed to mean?” Scott immediately jumped in, playing the peacemaker. “Celine, don’t fight. It’s all my fault.” “Of course it’s your fault,” I said with a cold smile. “When are you planning on paying us back? Didn’t you say you were done with gambling last time? How did you manage to rack up another hundred thousand in debt?” Scott froze, then lowered his head and squeezed out a few tears. “I was trying to win the money back to pay you,” he mumbled, his voice thick with fake emotion. “I was winning, but then they set me up.” “I’ll go sell my blood to pay you back,” he choked out. I didn’t believe a word of it. The first time, he’d cried and claimed his friends had tricked him into it. The second time, he’d sworn his boss had cheated him in a high-stakes game. But Celine’s heart broke for him. “Noah, you are absolutely heartless!” she screamed at me. “Can’t you see what he’s going through? And you’re still pressuring him for money! I never realized how cruel you were. I regret ever marrying you.” If I were truly heartless, would I have given in twice and let her help him? But all I got in return was her blind defense of him. This “caring for a friend” had long since crossed a line, a line that should be sacred in a marriage. “Scott, don’t you worry,” she cooed, turning back to him. “I call the shots in this house. I’ll get the money for you.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on. We’re going out to eat.” As they headed for the door, she shoved me out of the way. “Get out of my sight,” she hissed. “This past year of marriage has been the darkest time of my life. Push me any further, and I’ll get that agreement we signed. We can go our separate ways.” With that, she linked her arm through Scott’s and walked away without a backward glance. 2 Her departure was a sharp, decisive cut, like a knife slicing deeper into the already frayed thread of our relationship. It was hard to believe that the two people who had once cherished each other could now be so at odds. Was I being too suspicious? Thinking back, I knew I wasn’t. I’d had a crush on Celine in college. She was the untouchable ice queen, so I never confessed, and we barely spoke. Then, two years ago, we ran into each other at a singles’ event. That old spark flared to life. I worked up the courage to talk to her, and to my surprise, she was warm and engaging. We talked for the entire afternoon and were officially a couple within a week. The year we dated was a dream. She was gentle and kind, always at my place helping cook and chatting with my mom. She’d drag me out for walks in the park, our hands clasped as we watched the sunset. Under the moonlight, we were blissfully happy. Right before the wedding, she’d said to me, “If you ever fall out of love with me, let’s just part peacefully. That’s why I’ve prepared a divorce agreement. I’ll respect your decision.” She signed her name right there. I thought it was a joke, a document we’d never need. I thought we’d be happy forever. But everything changed so fast. Just six months into our marriage, Scott Cole, the heartthrob from her college days, reappeared. Celine found him an apartment and brought him meals. She helped him find a job. They were on the phone constantly. She grew impatient with me, telling me I couldn’t compare to Scott. She called me a failure, stuck in a dead-end job with a fixed salary. She praised Scott, calling him a dragon in shallow waters, destined for greatness. We fought about it constantly. When I’d try to tell her to be more mindful of boundaries, she’d accuse me of being jealous and paranoid. As a fairly traditional guy, I found the idea of divorce humiliating, especially after only a year of marriage. But my head was telling me to cut my losses before things got any worse. Buzz. Buzz. My phone vibrated, pulling me from my thoughts. It was my mother. “Son,” she said, “the bank just called. They said large personal transfers are now subject to a 24-hour delay.” I froze. “Mom, what are you talking about? Why are you transferring money?” “Celine called,” she explained. “She said you two had a failed investment and were deeply in debt. She asked me to transfer all my retirement savings to her. I haven’t been able to reach her since, so I thought I’d check with you.” My blood ran cold. My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles cracked. I never thought… I never thought Celine would stoop so low as to target my own mother to pay off her college crush’s gambling debts. How could she? The audacity was insane. “Don’t worry, son,” my mother said, her voice filled with concern. “I’ll ask some friends to borrow money.” “No!” I said, my voice sharp. “Don’t borrow anything. And you hold onto your retirement money. Don’t give it to anyone, especially not Celine. You’ll never see it again.” When Celine and I got married, her family demanded a new house and a huge sum for the wedding, draining every penny my mother and I had saved. And now she was after my mother’s life savings? Not a chance. My mom was silent for a few seconds. “Son, did you and Celine have a fight?” “It’s okay, Mom. I can handle it. I’ll explain everything in a few days.” I reassured her and hung up. Moments later, my phone rang again. It was Celine. “Noah Beck!” she yelled, her voice shrill. “What did you tell your family? I already told you, what’s a little more debt? What are you so afraid of? We can just default if we have to!” “I’m at the karaoke bar, the one from that party we went to,” she continued, not letting me get a word in. “You have ten minutes to get over here and explain yourself! Or you’ll lose me for good!” She hung up before I could reply. I pulled on my down jacket and headed out. Not to explain. But to end this. 3 The moment I stepped into the private karaoke room, I saw Celine and Scott surrounded by a cheering crowd. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” “Just think of it as making up for your missed chance back in college!” In that instant, it all clicked. All my doubts, all my questions, were answered. No wonder she went to such great lengths to help him. No wonder she was always comparing me to him. No wonder his arrival had shattered our once peaceful life. They had been in love all along. “Celine, you have to forgive me,” Scott said, feigning reluctance as he leaned in, puckering his lips. “It’s a dare. I have to do it.” A blush crept up Celine’s cheeks. Then, she spotted me standing in the doorway. She shot to her feet, calling my name. Everyone turned. “Ugh, buzzkill!” “Worst timing ever.” “He just appears out of nowhere like a ghost. Trying to give us a heart attack?” The complaints came one after another. And my wife, Celine, said nothing in my defense. She just listened. I guess she agreed. I had ruined her moment with Scott. “Ahem.” Scott cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Noah, man, don’t get the wrong idea. We were just playing a game.” All eyes were on me again, expecting an explosion. But I just nodded calmly. Celine blinked in surprise, then a slow, smug smile spread across her face. She sat back down, crossing her arms. “Well? Explain.” She thought I was backing down, surrendering. She put on her queenly airs, ready to receive my apology. The air in the room was thick with mockery. Scott, in particular, looked triumphant. I met Celine’s gaze, my voice even. “There’s nothing to explain.” “My father died young. My mother raised me by herself. It wasn’t easy. You will not touch a single cent of her retirement savings.” The room fell silent. Everyone stared, shocked. The smile vanished from Celine’s face. She jumped to her feet, pointing a finger at me. “Noah Beck! Your mother had it tough? What about Scott? He’s had it tough too! And it’s not like we wouldn’t pay her back.” I shook my head and glanced at Scott. “Can he?” “I promise I’ll pay it back!” Scott declared, puffing out his chest. His words were empty. A gambler’s promise is worth nothing. But Celine still believed him. “You hear that? Scott promised. What more do you want?” Her friends chimed in. “Scott was the campus heartthrob, top of his class. He could get a high-paying job anywhere. What are you worried about?” “It’s just a loan. You’re so cheap you won’t even do it for your own wife.” “We’re all friends here. We’re supposed to help each other out! Besides, what’s a little more debt? People online owe millions and still live it up.” “Yeah! Can’t you be a man and take a risk for once?” “Celine really has to put up with a lot, being with you…” “Do you really want to lose her?” Listening to them, I finally understood what it meant to fan the flames. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Noah Beck!” Celine shouted, seeing my silence. She played her trump card again. “Don’t think I won’t divorce you!” “Then let’s get a divorce,” I said quietly.

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