Category: English

When the elevator jolted, a sickening lurch, and the first person my boyfriend shielded was his assistant. Meanwhile, I, his actual girlfriend, was left to crumple in the corner, my arm fractured and forgotten. And in that single, clarifying moment, I knew. Whatever love I had for him was gone. On my phone screen, a cloyingly sweet post from Lila’s Instagram feed glowed back at me: “Life is only whole when you’re in it.” I felt nothing. I calmly liked the post and left a comment: “His left jawline is sharper. Try that angle next time.” Then, I opened the documentary about the Northern Lights I’d been meaning to watch for ages and finished it alone. It wasn’t until I was about to sleep that I noticed the fifty-plus missed calls on my phone. A text from him followed. “Lila’s young, she’s just dramatic. Don’t let it get to you. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll do a proper birthday celebration.” I didn’t reply. My mind was filled with the dancing auroras from the film, and a single thought crystallized with perfect clarity. Go chase the light. Don’t stay trapped here anymore. … The next day, Ethan never showed. It was exactly what I expected. I felt no disappointment. Instead, the first thing I did when I got to the office was hand in my resignation letter. Then I booked a flight to Iceland, departing in ten days. I’ve always been swift and decisive in everything I do. It was only in love that I’d allowed myself to be dragged down, indecisive and weak. In ten days, it would have been my five-year anniversary with Ethan. A fitting end to it all. A clean break. On the third night, Ethan stumbled through the door, smelling of whiskey. He stood by the entrance for a long moment, clutching his coat. He was waiting for me to rush over, to take his jacket and fetch his slippers like I always did. But I didn’t move. He found me curled up on the sofa, planning my trip. He shook his head and chuckled. “Still mad at me? Is that why you’ve been giving me the silent treatment?” He loosened his tie, his voice laced with an easy arrogance. “Alright, I’m home now. My head’s killing me. Go make me some of that porridge.” He entertained clients often and refused to take anything to protect his liver. I had once gone out of my way to get a special recipe for a stomach-soothing porridge. Every time he came home drunk, a warm bowl would be waiting for him. I was trying to decide on the third stop of my itinerary and answered without looking up. “There are hangover pills in the nightstand. Take one if you feel sick.” The living room fell silent. I belatedly looked up. Ethan’s face had hardened. “Sloane, there’s a limit to this childish behavior.” “Lila is all alone in this city. She has no one to look after her but me.” “Can’t you be a little more generous? Are you really going to be jealous of a kid?” He seemed to have forgotten that Lila, his “kid,” was only four years younger than me. I raised my bandaged arm. “It’s not me being childish. It’s the fractured arm. I can’t cook. But if you’re really craving that porridge, why not invite Lila over? I can walk her through the recipe.” He froze. In the past, the mere mention of her name would make me lose control. Now, I was calmly suggesting she come cook for him. “Is your arm… okay?” His tone softened. “Lila was feeling unwell that day. She said she has severe claustrophobia, so I wanted to get her to the hospital first, then I was going to come back for you…” His voice trailed off as he met my gaze. Lila just had claustrophobia. She would have been fine once she was out of the elevator. As for him “coming back,” it sounded like a pathetic joke. He coughed to cover his embarrassment and produced a takeout container. “I remembered you love truffle risotto. I brought this specially for you.” “Doctor’s orders. I have to avoid mushrooms. They’re bad for the healing process.” Rejected again and again, the man who had always held the upper hand in our relationship finally lost his patience. “Unbelievable. You’re impossible!” He slammed the container into the trash can and stormed into the bathroom. His phone buzzed on the coffee table. I picked it up without thinking. The screen lit up with a notification. It was a message from Lila. “OMG, the boss’s treat is the best! That risotto was heavenly. Soooo good!” Another message followed. “To show my eternal gratitude, I’ll cook you a feast fit for a king sometime soon!” I glanced at the risotto container sitting in the trash and couldn’t help but let out a small, bitter laugh. The next morning, I was up early, putting on my makeup, ready to go out. Ethan woke up. “Where are you going on a weekend?” “Company retreat.” I paused at the door. “Oh, by the way, if Lila is moving in, you should probably buy some new condoms. The ones in the drawer were expired. I threw them all out.” Without a backward glance, I walked out and pressed the elevator button. The architecture firm where I worked was male-dominated, a fact that had always bothered Ethan. For five years, he had constantly urged me to quit. To put his mind at ease, I had cut off nearly all social contact outside of work. I’d never once attended a team-building event, not even the annual holiday party. Over time, I became the unapproachable loner in the eyes of my colleagues. Since I was leaving anyway, I made an exception and joined the three-day retreat. As I finally let myself relax, playing games, barbecuing, and chatting with everyone, I realized how friendly they all were. When I mentioned my travel plans for Iceland, Carla, a senior designer, gently patted my shoulder. “A young woman like you should be out seeing the world. Don’t keep yourself caged in.” I clutched my cup of juice, my fingertips suddenly cold. “You’re right. I’m only just realizing how many sights I’ve missed all these years.” For a relationship with no future, I had nearly missed out on the entire world. During the retreat, Ethan’s messages were relentless: “Are you having fun? Who are you with?” “Where are you staying tonight? Do you want me to come keep you company?” “When are you coming back? Should I pick you up?” “Why aren’t you answering me?” My phone screen lit up again and again inside my backpack. I remembered how, in the past, I would proactively share my entire itinerary whenever I traveled for work, terrified he might misunderstand something. But when I needed the same sense of security from him, he would always say: “Everyone needs their own space, Sloane. You can’t make me your entire life.” I got home late. To my surprise, Ethan was waiting in the living room. “So, you finally decided to grace me with your presence?” he said, his voice sharp. I dropped my luggage, exhausted. “There was an accident on the road. We were delayed.” He shot up from the sofa. “I’m asking why you ignored my messages for three days! Have you decided to start playing the silent treatment game now?” It hit me then. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand how much that kind of coldness could hurt someone. It was just that for all these years, he had been the one using it on me, watching me toss and turn at night, only to finally accept my timid apologies. “I was just busy with the retreat. I didn’t have time to reply,” I answered calmly. “You, of all people, should understand. After all, it was always your excuse.” I turned and went into the bathroom. When I came out, the living room lights were dimmed, and red wine swirled in two glasses on the table. “The documentary you’ve been wanting to see,” he said, his tone much softer. “I’ll watch it with you tonight.” I shook my head, overcome with weariness. “I already watched it. On my birthday.” Without a second glance at his frozen expression, I walked into the bedroom and locked the door. In the middle of the night, I was startled awake by the violent slam of the front door. The next morning, Ethan was gone. As soon as I got to the office, Carla came over with a smile. “Sloane, about that Iceland trip you mentioned… my nephew happens to be going in a few days too. You two might be able to look out for each other on the road.” Her enthusiasm made me hesitate, but she quickly convinced me. “He’s a professional travel blogger. He’s amazing at planning itineraries. With him as a guide, you’ll have a much easier time.” She clapped my shoulder cheerfully. “It’s settled, then! I’ll have him add you on social media.” My initial reluctance faded. Truthfully, planning a long-distance trip by myself was stressful. I hadn’t traveled for years, and a flicker of anxiety mingled with my excitement. That afternoon, I took time off to attend my university’s alumni day. In front of the administration building, a group of students was taking photos. A man in a sharp suit and a girl with a radiant smile on his arm stood out from the crowd. “Kiss her! This is for the campus couples feature!” someone shouted. Amid the catcalls, the girl blushed and stood on her toes. The sunlight cast a golden halo around them, a picture-perfect scene from a teen movie. “Isn’t that Ethan Vance? He was the big man on campus back in our day. Still has it, I guess,” an old classmate next to me remarked. The comment made Ethan turn his head. The moment our eyes met, a flash of panic crossed his face. He instinctively started to walk towards me, but Lila tightened her grip on his arm. She whispered something to him, and he stopped. My phone vibrated. A message from Ethan. “Don’t misunderstand. I was just helping a student with a photo shoot.” I didn’t reply. I followed the others into a familiar teahouse. As we chatted, my old classmates asked how I was doing. I held my teacup and replied softly: “Single.” Someone immediately jumped in. “You should take a page from Ethan’s book. Find someone young and lively. Look how perfect he and his little girlfriend are together.” I smiled. “Yes. They do make a beautiful couple.” As the words left my lips, I saw Ethan standing right behind me. His face was dark. I had no idea how long he’d been listening. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice clipped. I found it almost laughable. In five years, he had never once publicly acknowledged our relationship. I remember once, for his firm’s annual gala, I’d dressed up to surprise him. In front of everyone, he introduced me as just “a friend from college.” And now that I was finally playing by his rules and drawing a line, he couldn’t handle it? “Is there something you need, Ethan? This is a class reunion. I don’t think this is the right place.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but Lila’s bright voice cut through from the doorway. “Ethan! Everyone’s waiting for you!” He gave me one last, deep look before she pulled him away. After the alumni events ended, I was saying goodbye to my classmates at the gate when a familiar car pulled up silently beside me. The window rolled down, revealing Ethan’s tense profile, cold and hard in the evening light. “Get in.” Exhausted from the long day, I didn’t want to argue on the street. I quietly opened the door and got in. The air in the car was thick with unspoken tension. Before, I would have desperately tried to fill the silence, and he would have cut me off with a frown. “Sloane, can you just be quiet for a minute?” This time, I took out my phone and calmly scrolled through the fresh “couple photos” of him and Lila on the campus forum. Suddenly, the car screeched to a halt. Before I could react, he was leaning over me, his hand clamping down on the back of my neck. We had been together for five years. We’d been wild in this car countless times; it had once been our favorite private space. But now, the image of him kissing Lila in the afternoon sun flooded my mind. I shoved him away, throwing open the door. I stumbled out and retched on the pavement, my body heaving. My stomach spasmed, but only bitter bile came up. Ethan stood by the car, his face shifting from ashen to ghostly white under the streetlight, a mixture of shock and hurt in his eyes. I pulled myself up, wiping my mouth. “You see that? That’s the physical reaction I have to you now. We’re over…” Before I could finish, he slammed the car door and sped away, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust. That night, Ethan, who never posted anything personal, shared an intimate photo of himself with Lila. The caption read: “Finally found the right one.” Congratulations from our mutual friends instantly flooded the comments. My phone buzzed incessantly with concerned messages. I didn’t answer any of them. I made myself some bacon fried rice and, surprisingly, had a great appetite. Late that night, the dip of the mattress woke me. A shadow loomed in the darkness. I almost screamed. “Don’t be scared. It’s me.” I let out a breath of relief, then rolled over, turning my back to him. He flicked on the bedside lamp. The harsh light blinded me. He leaned over me, his eyes bloodshot. “You didn’t see my post? You have nothing to say?” I was exhausted and had no energy for his late-night drama. “I saw it. Congratulations.” His breath hitched. His voice suddenly dropped, laced with a hint of vulnerability. “When I used to come home late, you’d always leave a light on for me… Now you don’t even call.” “Lila and I are just… it’s a mentor-mentee thing. If it bothers you, I’ll have her transferred to another department tomorrow.” I just looked at him, feeling nothing but tired. I once cried and begged him to care about me just a little more, and he always told me I was too clingy. Now that I was letting go, he was tripping over himself to be attentive. Too bad. My flight was in two days. He was a man I no longer wanted. And anything he had to offer, I no longer desired. After that night, Ethan was like a different person. He not only had Lila transferred, but he also replaced his female assistant with a man. Every night he had a work dinner, he would proactively send me his location and photos, though I never responded. The new, young male assistant came by the apartment to pick up a pair of shoes and told me with a cheerful grin, “Ma’am, tomorrow is your five-year anniversary! Mr. Vance has a huge surprise planned. You have to keep your schedule free!” Five years. It was certainly a milestone that deserved a proper goodbye. I opened the couple’s location-sharing app we hadn’t used in ages and followed the pin to the most luxurious hotel in the city.

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I posted a video of my mom pulling money out of a birthday cake online. It was supposed to be a sweet, simple moment, documenting a happy family memory. But the video blew up. The comments section didn’t share my joy. Instead, it was filled with hostility and malicious speculation. 1 “Look at her face drop when she sees the one-dollar bills. What a long face.” “She’s pulling it so slowly, probably counting how much it is. This family is suffocating.” “Finally smiled when she saw the benjamins. Disgusting.” “When the last hundred came out, her expression was totally: ‘That’s it? Just this?’” Some people even went as far as screenshotting my mom’s expressions and adding their own twisted captions. For my mom’s 60th birthday, I wanted to make her happy, so I prepared a money-pulling cake. I put in $999 total, arranged from smallest to largest denomination. Nine $1 bills at the start, followed by $20s, $50s, and finally $100s. It was this order that fueled the malicious interpretations in the comments. They insisted my mom’s face was dark as thunder when seeing the ones, and only brightened up when the hundreds appeared. They said her slow pulling at the start was her counting the money. They claimed my dad’s moving lips were him counting along. The more I read, the colder my heart felt. Worried my mom would see this and get hurt, I started replying to comments one by one. “It’s not like that. Mom was pulling slowly because she was afraid of breaking the cake. It’s her first time receiving a gift like this, she was just nervous.” “Mom didn’t start smiling just because of the hundred dollar bills. Actually, Dad said something behind her right then, and she turned back to joke with him, saying ‘It’s not for you, why are you happy?’” I was anxious and heartbroken, explaining until 2 AM. But no one believed me. Instead, they mocked me for lying to myself. They called me a “blood bag” raising my younger brother. Yes, the comment that stung the most was: “I don’t even need to think about it, I know you have a brother.” That sentence made me falter. Because I really do have a brother. I couldn’t help but pick up my phone and watch the video of Mom pulling the money again, carefully this time. Then I was shocked to discover. What the comments said seemed true. It was just too coincidental. Mom’s face really was stiff while pulling the ones. Her facial muscles relaxed when the fifties came out. And when the first hundred appeared, she started smiling. She pulled the small bills slowly, then sped up when she got to the hundreds. And Dad’s lips were indeed moving. Looking exactly like the netizens said—counting money. My heart sank lower with every rewatch. But I still refused to believe my parents didn’t love me. I insisted it must be a coincidence. Just over-interpretation by strangers. But I seemed to be influenced by them, actually starting to feel these coincidences were… open to misinterpretation. I couldn’t sleep all night, tossing and turning. The next day, my dad called. “Delete that video right now! Your mom read the comments and didn’t sleep a wink, cried all night.” “Why did you have to post our private life online for people to judge? Don’t you know people hate seeing others happy? Showing off like that, are you sick in the head?” Dad’s tone was furious and intense. But I didn’t blame him. I knew he loved Mom dearly. He was just lashing out because he was heartbroken for her. “Dad, deleting it now would make us look guilty. Don’t worry, I’ll figure out a way to solve this and clear Mom’s name. I won’t let them cyberbully her.” I told Dad I was explaining in the comments. But he interrupted me, unwilling to listen. 2 “What’s there to explain? We know how we live, we don’t need them to believe it. They have no right to comment. Just delete it, don’t make me angry.” “Are you happy now that your mom is sick from anger?” “I know what you’re thinking. You just wanted to show off your filial piety, gave a little money and had to broadcast it to the world.” “For your vanity, you hung your mom out to dry online. Have you no conscience?!” Dad’s words were getting more and more out of line. His tone was so heavy, the condemnation so obvious, it reached a point I couldn’t bear. I choked up, “Dad, how can you say that? How could I have such intentions? I’m hurting too seeing Mom getting scolded.” “Can you stop talking to me like that?” “Alright, alright, what nonsense are you spouting?” Mom’s voice cut in from the other end. She must have grabbed the phone. Her gentle but clear voice came through. “Baby, don’t listen to your dad. He’s hot-tempered, speaks without thinking. Mom knows you aren’t like that. It’s okay, don’t be sad.” “Mom, I really didn’t want anyone to scold you…” “I didn’t mean to.” “I know, I know. But baby, just delete the video. Mom doesn’t need strangers to understand. We know the truth. I don’t want to be gossiped about by people we know and don’t know, okay?” Since Mom put it that way, I couldn’t refuse. But deep down, I resisted this. Because deleting it felt like admitting “Mom is a terrible person.” I didn’t want that. The more Mom “compromised” and bore the insults to keep the peace, the more uncomfortable I felt. So I set the video to private. Thinking I’d make it public again once I found a good way to clarify things. But unexpectedly, after I hid the video, even more people came to my DMs to curse me out. [OP, why did you delete the video? Guilty conscience? Big fat blood bag.] [Pathetic and sad. Netizens tried to wake you up, but you won’t listen. You really can’t wake someone pretending to be asleep.] [OP, I dare you to buy a gold bracelet for your mom, then tell her it’s gold-plated silver. See her reaction. If you have the guts, record it and post it. If it’s really a misunderstanding, I’ll kneel and apologize, and post a video clarification across the whole internet. Dare you?] Looking at this DM, an idea struck me. This might actually be a good way to solve the problem. The next day after work, I rushed to my parents’ house. I wanted to tell them in advance, not because I worried they were misogynistic and didn’t love me as the netizens claimed. But because I was afraid they wouldn’t be natural on camera, giving the nitpicking netizens more ammo to drag Mom into the storm again. When I arrived, I found my brother was back too. Which was weird. Yesterday on Mom’s birthday, he said he was busy as hell, couldn’t make it back for her birthday, and probably wouldn’t have time to visit for the next two or three months. So why was he back the very next day? Did he also see the online drama and come back worried about Mom? I approached suspiciously, wanting to hear what they were saying. “Mom, tell me the truth, what were you thinking when you pulled money from the cake? Was it really like the netizens said, you thought it was too little?” My brother, Jason, was grinning playfully. Mom glared at him, annoyed. “Get out of here.” 3 “Mom, I’m not my sister, what can’t you say to your own son? When those ones came out one by one, I don’t believe you didn’t have thoughts.” “Tell me, tell me, I’m just curious. I won’t tell Sis.” Mom was worn down by him. I thought she would get angry and scold him. Just like she scolded me every time I said something she didn’t like. But she laughed. A hearty laugh, without any dissatisfaction. “I know, I can’t even trust my own son.” “But I knew your sister wouldn’t give too little. She isn’t you.” A short sentence, seemingly praising me. But for some reason, I wasn’t happy hearing it. The netizens’ questions kept swirling in my mind. “What did your brother give for her birthday? In your life, is the treatment for your brother and you really the same? Is the effort really equal?” Brother’s birthday gift? I didn’t know. Mom just casually mentioned he mailed a gift. As for what it was, how much it cost, she didn’t mention a word. When I jokingly pressed, she lectured me instead. “Filial piety is about the heart, no need to compare with your brother. Why give yourself so much pressure?” Implying that what my brother sent was precious beyond compare, far beyond my reach. Scaring me into silence. But right now, why would Mom say: “I knew your sister wouldn’t give too little, she isn’t you.” So contradictory, so strange. My head was splitting, but I still couldn’t figure it out. Or maybe it wasn’t that I couldn’t figure it out, but that the clearest, most logical path—the one netizens had already pointed out—was one I was unwilling, didn’t want to, and couldn’t believe. I turned and left. I went to the nearest jewelry store and bought a gold bracelet for $4,000. But I didn’t go home immediately. Instead, I waited patiently for International Women’s Day. I called Jason to go home together to celebrate Mom. “Oh, Sis, I can’t make it back. Didn’t I tell you? I’m swamped.” “You go first, I’ll send Mom a gift later.” “Hey, hey, what did I tell you guys? Can this go here? Why are you working so carelessly?” He seemed really busy. Even in this one-minute call, he was distracted talking to his employees. “Alright, Sis, I’m busy here. Gotta go. You handle it, you know Mom’s not picky, she likes whatever you give.” He hung up so quickly. I didn’t even have a chance to puncture his lie. Lie? I was startled by my subconscious thought. Did I already stop believing him? I put down the phone with a bitter smile, put the bracelet box in my bag, and drove home. Dad was watering the vegetable garden in front of the house. Mom was holding the hose for him. Seeing me back, Mom handed the hose to Dad and walked over in her rain boots. “Work is so busy, why did you come back? Don’t always worry about home.” Mom said with a smile. But I don’t know if it was my mindset, but I felt Mom’s eyes drifting, constantly looking at my hands and behind me while saying this. I couldn’t help but be suspicious: Is she checking if I brought her anything? Such thoughts were painful. I suddenly didn’t want to take out the gold bracelet. Who said it? Using lies to prove lies only gets you lies. “Mom…” Feeling emotional, I wanted to open myself up completely, to lay out all my struggles and internal conflict. 4 To talk to her sincerely and without tricks. “Let’s go inside first.” Mom interrupted me. Her tone was cold and distant. Suddenly scattering all my courage. “How is this child regressing? Who comes home empty-handed?” Dad, who lacked tact, muttered. I didn’t respond. He became more dissatisfied: “Don’t you know what day it is?” “It’s fine if you don’t come back, but since you did, did you really bring nothing? Coming back for Women’s Day with just your mouth, making your mom serve you, how can you be so shameless?” “Shut up!” Mom shouted at him sternly. “What are you saying? The child didn’t prepare anything, are you going to force it? Have some shame!” “Those with heart don’t need teaching, those without can’t be taught. Why waste words? Don’t you know your own child? Is she that heartless?” I thought I must be crazy. I actually felt Mom’s words were full of sarcasm and mockery. Even though Mom had said similar things before, I never interpreted them with such malice. I always deeply believed Mom was genuinely scolding Dad. My heart grew heavier. I took the gold bracelet out of my bag and handed it to Mom. “Mom, Women’s Day gift. Hope you like it.” Joy and excitement visibly burst onto Mom’s face. “Why buy this? Waste of money, gold is expensive now. I won’t take it, go return it.” Mom verbally refused, but her hand stayed extended, letting Dad eagerly put it on her. “How much was this? Thousands?” “No, it’s not real gold. It’s gold-plated silver. Just a few hundred bucks.” I steadied myself and finally said the sentence I had prepared for so long. Mom’s smile froze. But she recovered quickly, the corners of her lips curving up again. “You young people have lots of expenses. Don’t worry about buying me gifts in the future, I have everything.” Saying this, she took off the bracelet from her wrist, sighed, and placed it in my hand. “You’re almost thirty and don’t even have jewelry. Keep it for yourself.” Then, without giving me a chance to speak, she walked alone to the kitchen. I followed. Seeing her sitting alone on the stool, looking so disappointed. Dad snapped out of it and instinctively scolded me. “You’re so old, how do you not understand basic etiquette? If you can’t bear to give gold, then don’t give anything. Giving a fake? Embarrassing! Is this how your mom and I raised you?” These words seemed to speak to Mom’s heart. She suddenly turned her face away, covered her mouth, and sobbed quietly. The old me would have rushed to comfort her in a panic, asking why. Trying everything to fix the mistake and make her happy. But the current me felt like I’d been doused in ice water. The netizens’ words replayed in my mind: “Big fool deceiving herself.” “Still defending your parents? Idiot counting money for the people who sold you.” “If your family isn’t misogynistic, I’ll eat shit doing a handstand.” These words were clearly biased, emotional venting meant to incite conflict. I shouldn’t have listened. But they drilled into my heart like cold snakes. Gnawing deep into my soul. I held up the gold bracelet, walked step by step towards Mom, looked into her eyes and asked. “Mom, do you also think this gift is too light, like Dad said?” “Do you dislike it for not being expensive enough?” I held back tears, stubbornly trying to put the bracelet back on her wrist.

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My childhood best friend’s girlfriend is terminally online, always chasing the latest viral trends. She pestered him with a meme she saw recently: “Julian, you’re a year older than me. Why didn’t you visit me when I was born? Do you even love me?” Julian laughed, playing along with his girlfriend’s joke. He turned to his usually serious and strait-laced uncle, who happened to be there, and asked: “Uncle, how would you answer that?” His usually stoic uncle replied, “I did visit.” “Not only did I visit, I held her when she was a baby.” As he spoke, his gaze slowly drifted and landed on me. 1 Julian and I were childhood sweethearts. For the first twenty years of our lives, we were inseparable. Not just me, but both our parents and all our friends thought we were a match made in heaven. When I was 18, my parents brought up the idea of a marriage alliance with the Thorne family and asked for my opinion. I actually had feelings for Julian. A union between our families would have been a beautiful story. But since we were young, the engagement was put on hold, and we ended up at the same university. For two years, we were more than friends but less than lovers. Everyone thought it was just a matter of time. I allowed my feelings for Julian to deepen, bit by bit. Until the winter of our sophomore year, Julian excitedly told me, “Liv, I met someone I like!” It wasn’t me. Seeing him so happy, I realized the past twenty years hadn’t sparked any romantic feelings in him. The hand-holding and hugs were just friendship to Julian. Love can’t be forced, and I wouldn’t debase myself. I reined in my heart. So, under the shocked gazes of everyone around us, Julian started dating a girl from an average middle-class family. She was pretty, a little spoiled, clearly a girl doted on by her parents. He introduced his girlfriend to everyone in our circle. My presence became slightly awkward. But our mutual friends didn’t think they would last. They always believed that once the novelty wore off, Julian would realize that he and I were the perfect match. Someone comforted me: “Liv, Julian is just caught up in the moment. He’s never met such a naive and innocent girl before. He’ll get bored soon.” He didn’t. Julian dated her for two years. For two years, he paraded his girlfriend around town. Not just me, but my parents and his parents heard all about it. My dad was so angry he wanted to go over and yell at them. My mom stopped him: “If the marriage doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. Why ruin the relationship? Our daughter won’t have trouble finding someone.” “Is this just about the marriage?” My dad was still fuming. When our families discussed the union back then, Julian couldn’t have been unaware. He was an adult too. At the very least, his attitude was a tacit agreement. Even though we were never officially together, we almost got engaged. It was my mom who said we were too young and should spend more time getting to know each other. In terms of social etiquette, he embarrassed me and my family. But we remained friends. Our families had business dealings, so we had to maintain appearances. But we could only be friends. Tonight was Julian’s birthday. He booked a large private room and invited a lot of people out to celebrate. I was among them. Of course, so was his girlfriend, Chloe. 2 After Julian started dating, we contacted each other less. But there was still some historical baggage. Before Julian met Chloe, our chat history and interactions on social media weren’t exactly platonic. After he got a girlfriend, she naturally had the right to check his phone. They argued about it a few times. Once, when Julian apologized to me, I found out Chloe had used his phone to delete my contact information. We hadn’t been in touch for a while then, so I hadn’t even noticed. For Chloe to enter Julian’s circle, hearing about me was inevitable. These rich kids who grew up together were somewhat exclusive, so someone must have said something to her. I understood the situation and kept my distance from Julian. For his birthday, I originally planned to drop off a gift and leave. But as I walked in, my gaze swept over a figure in the corner, and I froze. Then my phone lit up. After checking the message, I silently found a seat. “Liv, you made it?” Julian looked pleasantly surprised. “I heard you’ve been learning the ropes with your dad recently, thought you wouldn’t have time.” I smiled and handed him the birthday gift. “Happy birthday.” “Liv,” Chloe’s voice piped up. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Why the mature look lately? You look like you’re pushing thirty.” Chloe was wearing a custom-made pink evening gown worth tens of thousands, with her hair curled, looking exceptionally perky. Of course, she wasn’t lacking in emotional intelligence; she was doing it on purpose. I glanced down at my women’s suit and chuckled lightly. “Really? Guess I’ve got that girl boss vibe down.” Julian tried to smooth things over. “Liv, Chloe’s just joking, don’t take it to heart.” Of course I wouldn’t take it to heart. Not just anyone gets to live in my heart. I wasn’t sitting very close to them, but my eyesight and hearing were decent. Chloe probably saw a new meme online and suddenly said to Julian: “Julian, you’re a year older than me. Why didn’t you visit me when I was born? Do you even love me?” After she said this, not only did Julian laugh, but the people around them laughed too, chiming in: “Yeah, Julian, why didn’t you bring baby formula to visit your future girlfriend back then?” The teasing was good-natured. Chloe was pretty, the innocent kind of pretty. Her personality wasn’t bad either. Having dated Julian for two years, she had some standing with part of the group. So her EQ wasn’t low. Julian casually replied, “I was busy getting spanked by my mom for not drinking my milk properly.” Another round of laughter ensued. Julian turned his head and saw his uncle, who had unexpectedly come to celebrate with him, still there. He jokingly asked, “Uncle, if it were you, how would you answer?” Julian’s uncle, Elias Thorne, was five years older than us. He was an unexpected late addition to the Thorne family. Since childhood, he was the “other people’s kid” parents compared us to. Although only a few years older, his seniority and his overly impressive resume made the second-generation rich kids in the circle quite afraid of him. I used to call him Uncle too. Julian probably just wanted to see what kind of brain circuit his steady, slightly old-fashioned uncle had. Someone nearby laughed: “Julian, don’t make it hard for your uncle. He’s busy with a million things, where would he find time for romance?” The next second, Elias spoke: “I did visit.” “Huh?” The man who usually didn’t smile added softly, “Not only did I visit, I held her when she was a baby.” No one noticed his gaze fixed directly on me. “…” Others thought he was joking: “Hahahaha Uncle, didn’t know you were so good at playing along.” No one took it seriously. Except me. Elias’s gaze didn’t shift. Even without meeting his eyes, I felt it was a bit too blatant. After the party, I found my car in the parking lot. I got in only to find someone already there. The driver hesitated in the front seat. Elias’s soft chuckle came from the back: “Mind giving me a ride? I didn’t drive tonight.” As the door closed, I heard the person next to me say, “I can’t remember the way home. Miss Liv, would you mind letting me stay the night?” 3 Elias pretended to be drunk and leaned on my shoulder. His warm breath occasionally brushed against the skin of my neck, making his presence impossible to ignore. I looked out the window, remembering the night Julian made his relationship official on social media two years ago. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t heartbroken. Less than a month after Julian told me he met a girl he liked, he went public. I was still wondering how our families would handle the fallout. Even more unexpectedly, at the same time, he took his girlfriend to meet our mutual friends. Maybe Julian just wanted to show off how much he liked her, but there were always people in the circle who didn’t like me. During that time, sarcastic remarks naturally followed. Whether I showed I cared or not, I couldn’t avoid the ridicule. That was when Elias returned to the country. He seemed to have a project in New York that wasn’t finished yet. Ideally, I didn’t want to see anyone from the Thorne family those days, but Elias appeared directly in front of me. It was winter break. Elias asked if I wanted to go to the US with him to clear my mind. I was dazed, didn’t understand what he meant. For a long time, both Julian and I were a bit afraid of his uncle. Although only five years older, for as long as I could remember, Elias clearly couldn’t mesh with us childish kids. Blessed by genetics, Elias was excellent beyond words. As we grew older, he gradually became someone we looked up to. With courage and handsome looks clearly superior to his peers, there was no shortage of girls who liked him. I didn’t speak to him much. Most of our interactions were because of Julian. So when he invited me to the US, I didn’t get it. Elias asked me, “Do you still like Julian?” I was silent for a moment, unsure how to answer. “It’s okay if you still do. He’s just a man,” Elias said. “You’ll meet others in your life.” I couldn’t tell if he was comforting me. “Julian likes someone else. Would you consider liking someone else?” Elias looked at me calmly and said, “Would you consider me?” Shock overwhelmed sadness. Tears that were welling up fell, but my eyes were filled with speechless shock. Elias gently wiped a tear from my cheek with a tissue. “Don’t cry for people who aren’t worth it,” he paused, then added slowly, “Of course, you can consider it a detox.” “…” It was the first time I knew Elias had a sense of humor. He said, “If your initial choice of Julian was based on the alliance between our families, then my conditions overall should be better than his.” More than just better. Elias was practically the guaranteed next head of the Thorne family. Julian didn’t have that ambition; his shrewdness was far inferior to his uncle’s. “If you simply liked Julian as a person, well, he’s withdrawn from the conquest for your heart. I don’t think I’m being immoral.” 4 I went to New York with Elias not because I was moved by his words, but because he asked, “Do you plan to join your family’s company after graduation?” “I’m negotiating a project in New York. Want to come along and see?” Elias’s abilities were obvious to all. Like many others, I admired him. Admiration for the strong is a normal mindset. I really wanted to see Elias work. So even after he volunteered to be my marriage partner, I still went to New York with him. Elias kept me by his side for two weeks, without any adult ambiguity. Like a senior mentoring a junior, he taught me a lot. I witnessed his strategic planning and calmness in business. Without any personal feelings involved, choosing Elias was far better than Julian. The benefits were more direct. “But, Uncle, Julian is your biological nephew.” The night before leaving New York, in the hotel bar, Elias and I sat facing each other, soothing English songs playing in the background. The dim bar lighting added a touch of ambiguity. Elias’s expression didn’t change. His calm eyes rested on my face, meeting my gaze: “Yeah, he did you dirty. You can consider becoming his aunt. You’ll be his elder from now on.” “…” Become Julian’s aunt? I admit Elias’s words were tempting, but I had other considerations for my life. Julian hurt me, but he couldn’t influence my next steps. “Uncle, I have another question.” Elias: “You can ask many questions. Also, you can call me by my name.” Call him by his name. I’ve called him Uncle since I was a kid, following Julian. Naturally, I treated him as an elder. But now, our relationship was heading in another direction, adding a sense of taboo. “What is your…” I paused, “view of me?” “You want to know if I’m pursuing you for profit or something else?” Elias asked back. Before I could answer, he said, “Liv, a five-year age gap shouldn’t be too big. Besides Julian, you and I are childhood acquaintances too, right?” I froze. “I’m a few years older. After you started kindergarten, you often ran over to play with Julian. back then the adults were busy, and both you and Julian were quite clingy with me, remember?” Elias said softly. His words brought back memories. It seems little kids always like playing with older kids. Julian and I both pestered Elias when we were small. But as we grew up, Elias got busy with school, then his career. He became the best among his peers, and our relationship naturally changed. “When you graduated high school, my brother and sister-in-law wanted you as their daughter-in-law and discussed engagement with your parents. Back then, you and Julian were innocent playmates,” Elias changed the subject, “But Liv, now he’s backed out first. Even if I am his elder, pursuing a single woman isn’t immoral, right?” Elias took me home. During the half-month in New York, he didn’t cross the line once. That Chinese New Year, Julian and his parents probably felt too ashamed to visit my house because of his relationship. The Thorne family sent Elias instead. There were many people that day. No one knew that in my room, Elias asked me: “Liv, have you thought about it?”

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It started the way everything does these days: a trend I convinced myself was an act of genuine desire. I’d followed the whispers and bought a service merman online. The seller promised impeccable service, a deeply affectionate nature, and the romantic detail that, during special moments, mermen could cry tiny, precious pearls. Yet, the one I bought—Lysander—had been here for two weeks, and far from shedding pearls, he hid in the kelp bed during every single feeding, as if the sight of me was an assault. I messaged the seller, and customer service pinged back almost immediately: “Sweetheart, we are so sorry for the mix-up. How about we process an exchange right away?” I couldn’t help but ask, “What happens to the mermen you take back?” “Oh, honey, don’t you worry. Defective models are never resold. They are typically transferred to a specialized high-end culinary market,” the reply stated, its tone chillingly casual. It was still a life. I decided to give him a little more time. If things didn’t change, then I’d process the return. But that very evening, I saw the creature who wouldn’t even look at me, practically thrashing his tail off for someone else. It wasn’t that he wasn’t affectionate. He just wasn’t affectionate with me. If that was the case, an exchange it was. It was just a fish dying, after all. 1 As soon as I finished checking the seller’s messages, I crept back toward the luxurious custom-built tank that housed Lysander. He spotted me from a distance and immediately spun around, burying himself in the flowing, blue-green kelp. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, that perfect, sculpted form. The aqua algae trailed down his back and across his lower abdomen as the water shifted. No matter how much of a problem he was, he was undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful. He was exactly my type—which was why I had picked him out of the hundreds of profiles. His eye-rims were red, and the tips of his ears had a flush of color. As I moved closer, he bit down hard on his own arm before swimming further away, deeper into the dark. “The manual clearly states this is the onset of the mating cycle—he’s a fully mature merman. Why is he still avoiding contact?” I followed the instructions, raising my hand to gently stroke his cheek. He slapped my hand away without hesitation and took off, circling the furthest reaches of the tank. “I don’t like to be touched by humans.” The slap stung. I looked down at my hand; a thin scratch was already bleeding. He cautiously poked his head out of the kelp, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. I tossed the prepared meal onto the floor nearby and left the basement without another word, my face set in a rigid mask. “Your fish still won’t let you touch him?” My phone chimed. It was Sloane Hastings, my best friend, sending a text. I replied curtly, “Tell me about it. It’s been almost a month, and we’ve barely exchanged ten words.” Sloane: “OMG! Did you get a fake or a factory reject? How much was he?” … “Three million. From the store you recommended.” Sloane: “No way! That’s impossible. Mine was perfect! That place is legacy stock, top-tier reputation. Message them again. Seriously, swap him out.” “Fine. Got it.” I pulled up the store page and sent a concise summary of my ordeal. “The merman I bought from you is over two weeks in, and still refuses contact. Is this normal?” The customer service rep immediately fired back: “Dear, did you follow the unboxing instructions precisely? Deviations from the protocol can sometimes cause initial reluctance.” I was furious. “What kind of ridiculous answer is that? You think I’d spend three million dollars and not follow a basic user manual?” I was practically worshiping this creature. Sloane’s merman, Kai, wasn’t like this. Kai loved coming ashore, would clean himself up, use the specialized dryer on his tail until it became legs, and then warm her sheets. Sloane’s glowing reports were the only reason I’d spent that much on a fish in the first place. The customer service rep, professional and unnervingly polite, didn’t react to my anger. Instead, they offered the solution: “Dear, I am so sorry for this experience. How about we process an immediate exchange? We can ship the new model via Express Courier; it should arrive in three days.” The question I’d asked before slipped out again, driven by a strange, morbid curiosity: “How exactly do you process the returns? Do you ever resell them?” “Sweetheart, rest assured, we are a reputable, high-trust business. Mermen are never resold. The returned models are typically processed for harmless disposal. You can relax about that.” “Harmless disposal means…?” The reply was clinical: “Low-cost transfer to a premium sashimi market for high-grade carpaccio.” Sashimi… I looked back at Lysander in the tank. A pang of something close to pity hit me. He was just socially inept, not a capital criminal. He didn’t deserve to be chopped up for appetizers. It was a life, after all. I’ll give him a little more time. Maybe he would change. If not, then I’d swap him. I closed the app and looked over at Lysander a few more times. Still gorgeous. But I hadn’t bought him just for the aesthetic. Turning on my heel, I walked back to my room and lit a cigarette, the smoke doing little to calm the slow burn of my irritation. A text from home had been sitting on my lock screen for two hours, unanswered. “Rei, your sister is staying with you for a few days. Try to get along. Don’t throw another temper tantrum.” Temper tantrum? I wouldn’t give Tatum the chance to malign me. Tatum and I have always been oil and water. I had no idea what kind of manufactured drama possessed her to decide she wanted to stay at my house. Tatum is my parents’ adopted daughter. I was kidnapped at the age of three and sold off to a remote mountain village, where I lived for eleven brutal years. When I was fourteen, working the fields, my parents suddenly appeared. They said they were my biological mother and father. I returned to the house that had forgotten me with a knot of anxiety in my stomach. The first person I saw was a radiant, polished Tatum. She looked like a designer-clad princess, surrounded by brand names, which only emphasized how much I, the dirty, bewildered prodigal, looked like an interloper. I quickly learned that the year after they lost me, they adopted a girl the exact same age. I genuinely thought we might find common ground until the moment my parents left the room. Tatum leaned in and whispered in my ear: “I’ve been here longer than you. I am their daughter.” “Mom and Dad love me. Don’t think for a second that you can just waltz back in and change that! I won’t let you steal what’s mine!” She’d lived in my house long enough to truly believe it was her own. A few years ago, I might have craved my parents’ love. Now, I simply celebrate my escape from that backwater village and spend their money—lots of it. Tatum will never know that the night before my parents rescued me, I was agonizing over how to escape a dreadful, prearranged marriage. Perhaps sensing my desperation, my parents said nothing, simply handing me an unrestricted black card. As a newly rich pauper, I was still cautious. I bought a few decent outfits and opened a discreet personal account, transferring significant amounts into it every month. On my eighteenth birthday, realizing how uncomfortable I felt in the main house, my parents gifted me this standalone mansion—their compensation for the eleven lost years. Tatum didn’t get one. She was green with envy, but she was calculating enough never to show it to our parents. Her hypocrisy disgusted me. Unlike her, I was honest about my motives: I loved money, pure and simple. I think money is a good thing. And that’s why, despite his standoffishness, the expensive Lysander was what I spent the most on. His diet was exclusively the most expensive imported, air-freighted fare. His water was changed daily and regularly supplemented with a nutrient solution that cost three thousand dollars a vial. Even his tail scales were meticulously groomed by a specialized team. That’s why Sloane’s first comment upon seeing him was: “Rei, that three million? Money well spent. Keep him, and you’ll find out just how much fun he is.” I had bought Lysander entirely to keep up with Sloane. I had reached an age where I was starting to feel the primal urge, the hormonal push toward a deep, intimate connection. Compared to building a relationship with someone whose disposition I didn’t know, a purchased transaction seemed infinitely safer. Safe. Attentive. Eternally Obedient. That was the merman store’s slogan. It was currently proving to be a spectacular lie. Despite my objections, Tatum arrived, her luggage requiring two SUVs to haul. She was unusually quiet upon entering, not engaging in her typical verbal sparring. Instead, she darted her eyes around, taking in the house. What was she looking for? A hidden camera? I couldn’t be bothered with her games. In my own house? Cameras? Not a chance I wouldn’t have them. I had to assume Tatum was plotting something. I didn’t just install them; I made them invisible: in the flowerpots, the outlets, the stuffed animals. And so, it was no surprise when I watched Tatum creep around my house for ten minutes at midnight before finally heading down to the basement. “How could she do this? Keeping you in such a small tank? Don’t mermen have rights? You have thoughts, you feel pain. She’s so inhuman. If I were your owner, I would at least let you swim freely in a private lake.” The voice on the feed was pure, sickening syrup. And Lysander, who had only ever given me an ice-cold shoulder, looked genuinely touched. Half his body was leaning out of the water toward her. Tatum, however, probably didn’t know that lake water would make Lysander’s scales flake. A three-million-dollar merman is high-maintenance. Lysander also had no idea there was a camera in the basement. I had installed it originally for the medical staff who came to check his vitals. I had never paid attention to the feed until Tatum walked down there. And that’s how I discovered that Lysander possessed a tender side—and a talent for water ballet. With his long, chestnut hair flowing in the water, he thrashed his tail wildly for Tatum, his deep-set eyes wide and moist, fixed on her with intense devotion. Tatum’s face was flushed. Lysander obediently nudged his face toward her hand. He ate my food, lived in my house, gave me a condescending look of disdain, and then turned into a warm, devoted puppy for Tatum? I suddenly remembered: Lysander had been delivered directly to the house. I rarely shopped online, so the address was set to my home—the one Tatum still had access to. Tatum must have unpacked him. No wonder. I had coddled him, pampered him, and granted his every whim for over two weeks, yet I wasn’t even allowed to graze his earlobe. His attitude toward me had been consistently frigid. I actually started to think I was the problem—that I was so unlikable even a fish hated me. Looking at the intimate dance between the two of them on the monitor, I immediately messaged the merman shop. “The previous merman isn’t working out. I need an exchange.”

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From the moment I was born, I knew I deserved the best. In my modest adoptive family, they called it “Princess Syndrome.” My adoptive mother saved for months to buy a silk blouse, then locked it away. I’d wear it secretly under my uniform. When caught, I’d lose dinner—so I’d find her hidden snacks and eat them all. My adoptive father claimed he couldn’t afford tutoring, yet kept expensive liquor and cigarettes. I took some and sold them to the corner store owner. With the money, I enrolled in the best prep course and bought imported stationery. Once, my grandmother hid two chicken drumsticks for her biological grandson. At the table, I calmly took both for myself. “I study the hardest,” I said. “I need the nutrition.” They called me selfish, ungrateful—a princess without the pedigree. I never argued. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, a black Maybach arrived outside our old apartment. My real parents—the wealthy Sterlings—had found me. Watching the shock and fear on my adoptive family’s faces, I felt completely calm. It wasn’t Princess Syndrome. I was a real princess all along. … Sliding into the back of the Maybach, I felt no unease. Seated next to me was the girl the Sterling family had raised for eighteen years as their own, Anabelle. “You must be Vivian,” she said, her voice soft. “It must have been so difficult for you all these years.” She took my hand. Hers was soft and delicate; mine had a thin layer of calluses from years of writing. I didn’t answer her question about “difficulty.” Instead, I gently pulled my hand away and traced the edge of the window frame. “This car is due for a service,” I said calmly. The driver’s hands twitched on the wheel, and the car swerved almost imperceptibly. My mother, Eleanor, turned from the front seat to look at me, her eyes wide with surprise. Anabelle’s smile froze. “What did you say, Vivian?” “I said, this car is due for a service,” I repeated. I pointed to an air vent. “The air filter needs changing, too. I can smell fine dust in the air.” A dead silence fell over the car. My father, Richard Sterling, sitting in the passenger seat, looked at me properly for the first time in the rearview mirror. His eyes were sharp as a hawk’s, filled with scrutiny and intrigue. Anabelle’s face cycled through shades of pink and white. She had likely expected a country mouse, either timid and stuttering or gaudy and materialistic. She had a whole script of condescending comforts prepared, and I had just rendered it all useless with one quiet observation. She forced a laugh. “You know so much, Vivian. Unlike me, I just know how to ride in a car.” “That’s alright. You can learn,” I replied, looking her directly in the eye. My tone was sincere. “After all, representing the Sterling family is a heavy responsibility. A basic understanding of luxury goods is essential. You can’t just recognize a brand name. That’s how people mistake you for new money.” A choked chuckle escaped the driver. A sharp glare from Richard in the mirror silenced him instantly. Anabelle’s smile completely vanished. My mother, Eleanor, finally spoke, her voice laced with a complex emotion. “Vivian, dear… how do you know all this?” “If you want to know something, there are always ways to find out,” I answered, my tone light. I didn’t tell them that with the money from my adoptive father’s secret stash, a small portion that wasn’t spent on tutoring went to buying every fashion, automotive, and financial magazine I could get my hands on. The Sterling mansion was perched atop Silvercrest Peak, a breathtaking display of wealth and power. The butler and a line of staff were already waiting at the entrance. “Welcome home, Miss Sterling,” they chorused. I accepted their greeting without flinching. Behind me, Anabelle’s nails were digging so hard into her palms they nearly drew blood. For eighteen years, that title had been hers. The welcome-home dinner was a lavish affair. Eleanor led me into a walk-in closet with three walls lined with haute couture gowns and designer bags. “Vivian, this is all for you. Pick whatever you like.” Anabelle followed us in. “Mother,” she said sweetly, “Vivian just got here. She might not be used to such formal clothes. I have some simpler dresses in my closet. Perhaps she’d like to try one of those first?” She reached for my arm. I sidestepped her touch, my gaze sweeping over the magnificent gowns. From a corner, I pulled out a simple, elegant white dress. “This one,” I said. Eleanor paused. “But Vivian, that’s so plain. It was meant for everyday wear.” “It’s fine. I prefer simple.” A flicker of triumph crossed Anabelle’s eyes. “Yes, Mother, whatever makes Vivian happy. Simple is more approachable, anyway.” I met her fake smile with a cold one of my own. The ballroom was a galaxy of shimmering lights and expensive perfume. I stood by Richard and Eleanor’s side in my simple white dress. Anabelle, in a frothy pink Dior gown, moved like a proud peacock among her flock of friends. It wasn’t long before they descended upon me. The leader of the pack, a girl named Mina, was Anabelle’s chief sycophant. She looked me up and down with an exaggerated laugh. “Anabelle, is this really your long-lost sister from the countryside? She looks so… quaint.” The others giggled, their laughter dripping with unconcealed superiority. Anabelle feigned annoyance. “Mina, don’t be rude. This is my sister.” Then she turned to me, her face a mask of apology. “Vivian, don’t mind her. She just says whatever she thinks.” Before I could reply, another girl chimed in. “Anabelle, you’re just too nice. So, Vivian, where did you live before? Was it like one of those places they do fundraisers for on TV?” The laughter grew louder. I saw my father, Richard, across the room, deep in conversation with several business tycoons. He glanced over, a slight frown on his face, but made no move to intervene. He was testing me. I took a deep breath and smiled, a warm, harmless expression. “Yes, the place I grew up was small and rundown. Nothing like this.” I admitted it freely, my voice quiet but clear enough for everyone to hear. The smirks on their faces widened. Then, I changed my tone. “But because of that, I learned to appreciate things. Unlike some people, who are born in Rome but treat it like their personal playground, squandering everything without a second thought.” My gaze rested gently on Anabelle. Her smile froze. Mina’s face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean? Who are you talking about?” “I’m not talking about anyone,” I said, still smiling. “I’m just stating facts. For instance, I know my father is in talks with Mr. Lin of Lin Corp, a project vital to Sterling Group’s next five years. I also know that Mr. Davies’s company stock has been unstable and he’s in desperate need of a capital injection. And I know that Mr. Cole’s son”—I gestured to a young man in their group—”lost an eight-figure sum in Macau last month and still hasn’t told his family.” My voice was calm, but with each sentence, the air grew colder. The Cole heir’s face turned sheet white. Mina and her friends were no longer laughing. They stared at me as if I were some kind of monster. Before I arrived, I had spent the afternoon with the butler, memorizing the portfolio he had prepared on every single guest attending that night. I walked over to the utterly stunned Anabelle and, with a small smile, straightened a crease in her gown. “Sister, thank you for this lovely party. But as daughters of the Sterling family, our words and actions reflect on our name. Joking with friends is one thing, but if a few harmless jokes were to jeopardize Father’s business deals, or worse, expose a friend’s private struggles, that wouldn’t be very wise, would it? After all,” I said, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “we can’t just wear the pretty dresses the family provides without doing anything to benefit the family, can we?” My words were soft, but they landed like a slap across her face. She wanted to make a fool of me. So I showed everyone who the real fool was—the one who knew nothing but parties and pleasure, contributing nothing to the family that gave her everything. The mood of the party shifted. The group that had been mocking me now watched me with a new expression, a mixture of fear and curiosity. Richard Sterling walked toward me, a glass of wine in his hand. He studied me for a long moment, then addressed the nearby guests. “Everyone, this is my daughter, Vivian. She’s just returned home and is still learning the ropes. Please excuse her if she seems a bit rough around the edges.” His words were apologetic, but his face held no apology at all. In fact, there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. I knew I had passed the first test. Anabelle’s face was a storm of emotions. She forced a smile and linked her arm through mine, a picture of sisterly affection. “Yes, my sister is a quick learner. I’m sure the two of us will be a great help to Father in the future.” I smiled and let her cling to me. The game had just begun. Halfway through the party, it was time to cut the cake. A massive, three-tiered creation was wheeled out. Richard gave a short speech welcoming me home, thanking the guests—the usual pleasantries. Then, he handed me the cake knife. “Vivian, you cut the first slice.” As I reached for it, under the watchful eyes of every guest, Anabelle suddenly cried out, “Oh!” She stumbled as if losing her balance, and the full glass of champagne in her hand flew directly at me. I had no time to dodge. The cold liquid soaked the front of my white dress, a sticky, unpleasant sensation. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Vivian! I didn’t mean to!” Anabelle exclaimed, dabbing at my dress with a napkin, only succeeding in smearing the stain into a large, ugly yellow blotch. The room erupted in gasps. Everyone was staring at my predicament. It was a perfectly orchestrated “accident.” She had chosen this moment to ruin my spotlight, to make me the laughingstock of the evening. Eleanor rushed over. “Oh dear, what a mess! Come, Vivian, let’s go upstairs and change.” I looked up at Anabelle’s face, a perfect portrait of innocence and guilt, but I could see the glint of triumph hidden deep in her eyes. I gently pushed her hand away, shook my head, and then smiled at the room. “It’s alright. Just a little accident.” I turned to the butler. “Alfred, would you please bring me the black dress from my wardrobe? It’s the third one from the left. Thank you.” The butler, after a moment’s surprise, nodded. “Of course, Miss Sterling.” While I waited, I didn’t scurry away in embarrassment. I stood my ground, even picking up a small pastry from a tray. My composure surprised those who were expecting a scene. Anabelle tried to speak several times, but my calm gaze silenced her. Soon, Alfred returned with a dress box. I took it and offered an apologetic smile to the guests. “If you’ll excuse me for five minutes.” I didn’t go upstairs. I walked into a small parlor adjacent to the ballroom. Five minutes later, when the parlor door opened again, the entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath. All eyes were on me, filled with astonishment. I had replaced the stained white dress with a sleek, black velvet gown. The cut was simple but impeccably tailored, accentuating my slender, poised figure. My hair was swept up in a simple twist, revealing the long, elegant line of my neck. Most importantly, I had put on makeup. Before coming to the Sterlings, my makeup consisted of cheap products from a discount store. But I had spent countless nights practicing, studying magazines and videos. I knew how to use the simplest techniques to maximize my features: my cool, clear eyes, my straight nose, and a striking slash of red on my lips. If the girl in the white dress was an unpolished wildflower, pretty but forgettable, the woman before them now was a black rose, blooming in the dead of night—mysterious, dangerous, and utterly captivating. I walked slowly to the cake and took the knife from my father’s hand. My eyes swept across the room, finally landing on the pale, stunned face of Anabelle. I raised the knife and sliced cleanly through the cake. Then, I looked up, and a brilliant, radiant smile lit up my face. “Thank you all for coming tonight. Please, enjoy the party.” I knew that from this night forward, no one in this city’s elite circles would ever dare to underestimate the “country girl” again. After the party, my position in the Sterling household underwent a subtle but significant change. The staff treated me with a new level of respect, one born of fear rather than duty. Eleanor’s attitude shifted from cautious guilt to genuine affection and reliance. She started taking me on shopping sprees, showering me with jewelry, as if trying to make up for eighteen years of absence in a matter of weeks. And Richard, my father, began discussing company matters with me at the dinner table, quizzing me on finance and market trends. I answered every question flawlessly. The approval and satisfaction in his eyes grew with each passing day. All of this sent Anabelle into a full-blown panic. She felt her world crumbling. She started mimicking me, a desperate attempt to regain our parents’ attention. I woke up at 6 a.m. for a morning run; she dragged herself out of bed, only to collapse in exhaustion after two days. I read the financial news; she ostentatiously carried around a copy of The Wall Street Journal, but when I asked her what “quantitative easing” was, she couldn’t utter a single word. I took the keys to the Porsche Panamera in the garage, the one she had coveted for years. The next day, she threw a tantrum until Richard bought her a newer, more expensive Ferrari. He bought it for her, but the displeasure on his face was obvious. I knew Anabelle had lost her footing. In the eyes of a businessman like Richard, the choice between a daughter who could only cry and demand, and a daughter who could bring tangible value to the family, was crystal clear. I, on the other hand, never asked for anything. I simply accepted what they offered, and then, in my own way, I showed them that their investment in me was worthwhile. For example, the family chef prepared the freshest Norwegian salmon every day. Anabelle disliked raw fish, so most of it used to go to waste. I made a point of finishing my portion every single time. Eleanor noticed and said, her voice full of tenderness, “Vivian, if you like it so much, I’ll have the kitchen make more for you.” I shook my head. “That’s not necessary, Mother. The standard portion is perfect. The finest ingredients, like the finest things in life, are best appreciated with precision and control. Too much of a good thing becomes tiresome. Just like affection.” My words were pointed. Eleanor froze, a thoughtful expression on her face. From that day on, the kitchen never prepared an excess portion of salmon again. When Anabelle later whined that she wanted some, Eleanor replied coolly, “Resources in this house are allocated based on need. If you want something, you must request it in advance. We don’t waste things.” Anabelle stormed off and smashed something in her room. I knew this was just the beginning. I was going to take back everything that was supposed to be mine, piece by piece. Not just material possessions, but the power to set the rules in this house.

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My family’s secret to making big money was the river right in front of our door. Whenever tourists from out of town came to play, my dad would pretend to drown. When a kind Samaritan jumped in to save him, he’d drown them instead. Then, he’d call my uncle to “recover” the body. They’d tie the corpse to the bow of their boat and demand a hefty “recovery fee” from the victim’s family. It was the perfect crime, and the profits were substantial. Until one day, the body my uncle pulled up was my dad’s. Just like every person my dad had drowned, his death was ruled an accident. My mom was inconsolable with grief, but my uncle and the others looked strange. Later, my uncle told me something was wrong. After my dad was already dead, my uncle received a text message from him. 1 After my dad’s funeral, Grandpa gathered all the men in the family. That included my uncle, my two older cousins, and me. Uncle started by laying out the situation— The police estimated Dad’s time of death around 7 or 8 PM. But Uncle didn’t receive the text message from Dad until after midnight. That text was the reason Uncle took my cousins out on the boat to retrieve a body. Sure enough, he pulled one up. He just never expected it to be Dad. Dad definitely didn’t just drown. It had to be murder. He was a fish in water; he could drag a grown man under and slip away without breaking a sweat. He’d even go home, change clothes, and return to the shore to fake CPR once a crowd gathered. So the question was: who killed him? “It shouldn’t be an outsider. Dad, look at this text from the youngest,” Uncle said, handing his lit phone to Grandpa. My cousins and I leaned in. The message read: “A little bird fell in the water.” The sender was my dad. The timestamp was the night of his death. The problem was, this sentence was our code. It meant someone had drowned, and the body was ready for pickup. Uncle asked rhetorically, “Who else but family knows this code?” Grandpa frowned, glancing at us three boys. We looked at each other, bewildered. That was my own father, my cousins’ uncle. How could we do something like that? Even if we were heartless, what possible motive would we have? Grandpa realized it was impossible too, so he snapped at Uncle: “What are you saying? Don’t spout nonsense!” Uncle quickly explained: “No, I’m not saying the boys did it… I mean, did anyone leak our code?” As soon as the words left his mouth, my eldest cousin, Big Trev, shuddered violently next to me. 2 Uncle saw it too. He exploded in rage, roaring: “You little sh*t! Speak! Was it you?” Big Trev turned pale, stammering: “Dad, I… I didn’t mean to, I…” Uncle jumped up, raising his hand to smack him. My second cousin, Lil’ Trev, and I scrambled out of the way. Luckily, Grandpa stopped Uncle in time, shouting: “Stop it! What good will beating him do? You brute!” He beckoned to Big Trev. “Come here, son. Tell Grandpa… who did you tell?” Big Trev trembled as he approached Grandpa. “It… it was my buddy… Old Zhu from the village entrance…” He started sobbing. “I didn’t mean to! We were drinking, and it just… slipped out…” Uncle was stomping in fury. Grandpa sighed, trying to calm the room. “What’s done is done. We need to figure out what happened…” With Grandpa speaking, Uncle had to settle down. Grandpa looked at me pointedly. I knew my role. “If Old Zhu did it, I’ll go chop his whole family up.” It was my dad, after all. Even though we had no real affection for each other. Growing up watching people die in front of me desensitized me. Death was just a Tuesday. Grandpa frowned again, muttering to himself: “But… Old Zhu doesn’t have any beef with our family…” He turned to Uncle. “Eldest, go find Old Zhu’s father tomorrow. I’ll have a chat, test the waters… see if it’s a personal grudge against the youngest… or if he’s targeting all of us…” But Uncle didn’t respond. The man who was just raging stood frozen, staring blankly at his phone. Grandpa snapped, “What are you looking at? Did you hear me?” Uncle jolted, frantically turning the screen to Grandpa. “No, Dad, look at this!” On the screen was a new text message: “A little bird fell in the water.” Silence fell over the room. Even Grandpa went quiet. 3 Big Trev broke the silence first. “That number… that number looks like Old Zhu’s!” He pulled out his own phone, checked for a few seconds, and confirmed: “It is! That’s his number!” Grandpa’s frown deepened. Uncle hesitated, then asked carefully: “Dad… should we take the boat out?” Grandpa thought for a long while before instructing: “Go. But be careful… no matter whose body you find, or if you find nothing… keep quiet. Do not call the police. Come back and we’ll discuss.” Uncle nodded vigorously. He signaled us three to get the boat ready. Recovering bodies takes skill. The river isn’t a stagnant pond; bodies move. But we were pros. We knew the spots downstream where bodies got stuck. There was a cluster of jagged rocks that acted like a net. The banks there were thick with thorny brush, inaccessible by land. You had to take a boat. We knew the route by heart. Soon, we arrived. We killed the engine to avoid hitting the rocks. It was time for manual labor. Big Trev and Lil’ Trev tied safety ropes around their waists, ready to dive and check the rocks. I looked at the pitch-black water. The spotlight only illuminated a small patch. Fear crept into my gut. I couldn’t help but suggest: “Uncle, I’m not good at this part… my swimming isn’t great… can I stay on the boat and work the winch?” Uncle sensed my fear and waved his hand. “Fine, you stay. Your cousins know the drill… but you really need to work on your swimming… you have to take over your dad’s business one day…” I let out a breath. Uncle didn’t go in either. My cousins put on headlamps and dove in confidently. Bodies don’t float immediately. If they were caught in the rocks, they’d likely be underwater. Sure enough, a light signaled from the surface. Uncle steered the boat closer. It was Big Trev. He yelled: “Found it! Drop the rope!” Uncle threw down the winch cable. Big Trev dove back down. Soon, the rope was secured. Uncle cranked the winch. The body slowly dragged toward the boat, rising until it hit the bow… Big Trev shone his light on the face and shouted: “Holy sh*t! It really is Old Zhu!” Uncle locked the winch but frowned. He looked around, then shouted at Big Trev, who was still in the water: “Where’s your brother?” I realized it then— Lil’ Trev hadn’t come up yet. Big Trev froze. “Pull the safety rope! Fast!” 4 When we pulled Lil’ Trev up, he was completely unconscious. If Uncle hadn’t reacted fast, he would’ve drowned. On deck, Lil’ Trev coughed violently. Uncle cleared the mud and weeds from his mouth and nose. He tilted Lil’ Trev’s head back to open the airway. After vomiting a gallon of river water, Lil’ Trev finally gasped for air. But he was delirious. We rushed him home. My aunt was shocked and immediately started caring for him. I didn’t dare tell my mom; she was still grieving. Grandpa found it unbelievable. Lil’ Trev was a better swimmer than Big Trev. He’d dived that spot a hundred times. How could he drown? Lil’ Trev remained groggy but seemed out of danger. With Auntie watching him, Grandpa ordered us to dispose of Old Zhu’s body. “Your dad just died two days ago. If Old Zhu turns up dead too… the cops will get suspicious. Bury him… quick…” Uncle, Big Trev, and I found a spot and buried Old Zhu overnight. When we got back, Lil’ Trev had recovered significantly. He could open his eyes and speak. Grandpa gathered us to hear what happened. At the mention of it, terror flooded Lil’ Trev’s face. He started shaking. His trembling lips managed only a few words: “Head… a human head! Eyes… eyes glowing…”

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I knew from the moment I could understand words that my life wasn’t my own. I was a tool, born and raised by my parents to secure an alliance with the wealthy Sterling family of the capital. In my freshman year, my parents transferred me to the elite high school where Leo Sterling studied. They wanted me to flatter him, to stand out among the throngs of girls vying for his attention, and ultimately become the Sterling family’s daughter-in-law. But Leo already had a girl by his side. I watched him lower his usually arrogant gaze for her, watched him kiss her forehead with a reverence he never showed anyone else. I witnessed the passionate youth Leo shared with her. Even after I married him, those memories remained vivid in my mind. I knew that even though I had him, he was still the boy shining brightly in someone else’s story. So, when fate gave me a second chance, I rebelled. 1 I slapped a band-aid on the cut on my neck. Looking back at the sprawling villa complex behind me, I smiled, finally feeling a sense of release. Reborn. The first thing I did was threaten suicide. I forced my parents to give up their schemes for me. The price was steep—a contract promising to repay them $150,000 for “raising costs” before I turned 30 in exchange for my freedom. But it worked. They withdrew all their “investments” in me, only guaranteeing basic living expenses until I graduated high school. College tuition and living costs? That was on me now. … Sitting in the classroom, the reality of my rebirth finally hit me. I looked toward the seat at the front left—Leo Sterling. A cool breeze ruffled his oversized white uniform shirt. He radiated youth and confidence. He was smiling, his eyes soft and tender. But that look was reserved for the girl next to him. Sarah Summers. His deskmate, and his girlfriend. They were the golden couple. Talented, beautiful, the envy of the school since freshman year. Even the school administration, usually strict about dating, turned a blind eye because their grades were impeccable. They were even used as examples: “Want to date? Sure, beat Leo and Sarah’s grades first.” Who would have thought this perfect love story would end? That a thief like me, watching from the shadows, would eventually steal him away. I was secretly thrilled at first. But after the marriage, Leo’s coldness… Even in bed, he treated intimacy like a chore to be completed. I finally realized. Even though I possessed him, he wasn’t the shining boy from my youth anymore. I fought, I cried. I even steeled myself for a divorce. But he refused. He said he would fulfill his duties as a husband. To my outbursts, he responded with silence. He spent less and less time at home, practically living at the office. I lost myself in self-pity, becoming a shadow of a person. Then, one day. Leo was driving me to a medical checkup. We got into an accident. As the truck barreled towards us, I felt no fear, only relief. The impact shattered my consciousness. In my final moments, I hallucinated Leo holding my broken body, weeping. I quickly dismissed the thought. Why would Leo cry for me? When I opened my eyes, I thought I had miraculously survived. Instead, I was back in high school. Watching the two figures leaning close together in front of me, the last shred of my old desire vanished. It was time to write a new script for my youth. 2 “Tessa, are you sure?” In the office, my homeroom teacher looked at me gravely. I nodded. She was still puzzled. “Your science grades are excellent, but you were so adamant about choosing liberal arts before. Why the sudden change?” I lowered my head. Choosing liberal arts was my parents’ decree. Because Sarah Summers was a liberal arts student. Their logic was simple: mimic the girl Leo loved to win his heart. But now, I didn’t have to follow their script. I looked up and smiled brightly. “Because the sun came up.” … It was a weird answer, but the teacher seemed relieved I was back on the science track. The summer after freshman year ended. With my switch to science, classes were reshuffled. On the last day of break, I went to the salon. I chopped off my long hair and heavy bangs. I got a shoulder-length bob. “Wow, you have a good eye, miss,” the stylist praised, admiring his work in the mirror. “This cut frames your face perfectly. You look much more sophisticated!” I looked at the new me in the mirror and smiled. On the first day back, classmates gathered around, surprised. “Tessa! You cut your hair?” “Short hair looks so good on you! Totally different vibe!” “Yeah, you look like those smart scientists in zombie movies!” … The chatter caught the attention of Leo, who was napping on his desk. He glanced back casually, then turned away. My parents’ dream of me marrying into the Sterling family was just that—a dream. Our family wasn’t even qualified to sit at the same table as the Sterlings. Getting into the same school as Leo took a massive effort on their part. So, despite being fed information about Leo my whole life, I had never actually spoken to him. To Leo, I was a total stranger. And that was perfect. Strangers we would remain. … High school flew by. Sophomore year arrived. I spent freshman year filling in the gaps in my knowledge. I was back to my previous academic level. In my past life, I was consistently top 10 in science before the split. Now, with future memories, I was pushing top 5. In the first exam of sophomore year, I hit second place. Only Leo Sterling was ahead of me. “Whoa, Leo, your number one spot is in danger!” “This Tessa girl is in our class. Do you know her?” A crowd gathered around the ranking board. I overheard Leo and his friend. Leo didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the scores—only a 5-point difference. After a minute, he walked away. Dropping two words: “Not familiar.” A few weeks later, during math class. The teacher put a competition-level problem on the board. It was a test for those interested in the math Olympiad. Since switching to science, I had my sights set on it. Climbing higher peaks was the only way to learn more. To add new color to my youth. The teacher wrote problem after problem until the last one. The question alone filled the blackboard. The class fell silent. I raised my hand. I solved it. The class exploded. 3 “Holy crap, Tessa is a beast! She solved a problem Leo couldn’t!” “Looks like her taking the number one spot is inevitable.” “Seriously, her progress is insane. That scholar vibe is making me sapiosexual!” “Bullshit, you just think she’s hot!” Amidst the laughter and gossip, someone suddenly said: “Hey, do you think Tessa and Leo would make a good couple?” “Both good-looking, both geniuses!” “Hard to say. We’re in the same class, but I’ve never seen them talk.” “Plus, Leo has a girlfriend!” “Yeah, Sarah is totally different from Tessa. Leo probably doesn’t like Tessa’s type.” “It’s okay, I like Tessa’s type.” “Get lost, like she’d look at you.” … I heard it all. I just smiled to myself. I didn’t care. Focused on the math problem, I didn’t notice Leo looking back at me, his expression unreadable. The midterm exams coincided with the lead-up to the competition. In that midterm, I finally surpassed Leo. Number one in science. My classmates congratulated me. I thanked them, my mind already on tomorrow’s competition. The prelims and state rounds were over. The finals were international. Leo and I were the top seeds. Our beaming math teacher led us overseas. On the day of the finals. My four hours of sleep per night paid off. Math requires talent, yes. But effort is non-negotiable. I didn’t think I was a genius. I just wanted to be diligent. When I received the gold medal, I was proud. Proud that I had changed. Proud of my growth. At the ceremony, I met the man I had been waiting to see. “Professor Tang, I want to be your student.” I mustered my courage and approached the legendary figure in aerospace engineering. He was surprised, but his eyes shone with appreciation. “You like aerospace?” I nodded vigorously. The old man smiled. He gave me his contact info. He told me to find him in the capital when I was ready. This was my goal. To qualify for early admission in sophomore year, skip straight to university-level studies in the capital. And start earning money to pay back my parents’ $150,000 debt. My math teacher patted my shoulder, emotional. “Tessa, that’s a tough road.” “But with ambition like that, I support you!” The competition ended. I achieved my goal, met my idol, and stated my ambition. Everything was going according to plan. I was happy. Relaxed, I wandered the foreign streets for hours. As dusk fell, I walked back to the hotel, needing to rest for the early flight home. At the hotel entrance, I saw Leo. He seemed to be waiting for someone. I didn’t ask. As my classmates said, in this life, we weren’t familiar. I planned to walk past him as if I didn’t see him. But he blocked my path. I looked up, meeting his deep eyes. “The teacher saw you weren’t back and asked me to check.” He explained. I nodded. “Sorry, lost track of time walking.” “Thanks for waiting. Go rest, we have an early flight.” I turned to leave. But after two steps, he grabbed my wrist. I froze, turning back in confusion. “Anything else, Leo?” He didn’t speak. He just looked at me, emotions swirling in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher. Finally, he spoke. “Do we have beef?” I was baffled. I shook my head. “No…” “Then why do you keep avoiding me?” Leo stared straight at me, his gaze probing. 4 I was stunned. I tried to pull my wrist back, but his grip tightened. His palm was warm, calloused, his grip unusually strong. “I’m not avoiding you.” I kept my voice calm. “We just don’t know each other well. There’s nothing to say.” It was the truth. In my past life, before we married, we exchanged fewer than fifty sentences. He was busy with family business. I was busy trying to please him. We were parallel lines, forced under one roof but never touching. Leo frowned. The streetlight cast a shadow over his sharp nose. “Not familiar?” He repeated the words, his tone strange. “We’ve been in the same class for almost two years.” “You never say hello.” “Last time my friend asked who you were, I couldn’t even answer.” I stayed silent. I couldn’t tell him I saw how much he loved someone else in my past life. That I knew I was just a replacement, so in this life, I wanted to stay far away. “In the competition, the auxiliary line you used for the last problem…” He changed the subject abruptly, eyes locked on my face. “That was a method I used in middle school Olympiad training. No one knew it except the teacher back then.” My heart skipped a beat. I saw that in his old notebook when I was organizing his study in my past life. I memorized it like a fool, hoping it would give us something to talk about. I never thought it would be useful now. “Coincidence.” I looked away, avoiding his eyes. “I saw a similar problem while studying.” He stared at me for a few more seconds, then suddenly let go. “Maybe.” He turned and walked into the hotel, his voice drifting back. “Rest early. Don’t be late tomorrow.” I watched his back disappear through the revolving doors before exhaling. My palms were sweating. My wrist still felt the heat of his grip. Back in my room, I threw myself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Leo’s reaction was weird. Why did he care if I avoided him? Because I took his number one spot? Because of the math problem? I couldn’t figure it out. I grabbed the reading list Professor Tang gave me. Two pages in, I was absorbed. Aerospace knowledge was a vast ocean. Once I dove in, I forgot everything else. Back home, life returned to normal.

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I had to work until eleven, and I hadn’t managed to get the Kobe Ribeye Liam wanted. As a peace offering, I splurged on an expensive Black Cod, the kind he’d mentioned wanting last week. But he didn’t want it anymore. He smashed the container against the tile floor, the spray of water soaking my slacks. The comments section was buzzing. [It’s the FMC’s fault. How much does that overtime pay anyway? Keeping the ML happy is the real job.] [Black Cod is delicious and expensive, but the ML specifically asked for the beef. Anyone would be mad at that kind of obvious substitution.] Really? Maybe they had a point, but I had just spent over twelve hours on the clock, and I was utterly exhausted. Too tired to handle the mess on the floor, or the furious man standing over it. 1 It was almost eleven PM, and only our office lights remained on in the entire corporate tower. I rubbed my pounding temples and saved the sixth draft of the proposal before powering down. The five-hour project review that afternoon had ended with the client tossing out everything we had. The whole team scrambled, managing to nail down the final outline just before the late-night commuter train stopped running. But we weren’t done. We had a week until the project deadline, and there was still a mountain of work to climb. Despite the screaming protest from my body, I shoved my laptop into my tote bag. The moment I pushed open my apartment door, a blast of cold air, thick with stale cigarette smoke, hit me. Liam was sitting on the sofa, a cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. The acrid smoke made me cough. A low, almost inaudible scoff reached my ears: “Don’t start…” The sound vanished a second later, so fast it felt like a hallucination. On the first day we moved in together, we set a firm rule: no smoking inside the apartment. Liam was fine with it initially. Then, he started arguing that the living room wasn’t a room—only the bedrooms counted. Now, ash trays were scattered in every corner of our small space. Perhaps it was the chill of early winter, but my coughing escalated, a tight, painful spasm that felt like a tiny claw scratching at my lungs. I dropped my bag and headed straight for the water glasses. They were all empty. That’s when Liam finally spoke, his voice ice-cold. “You decided to come back, then? Take a look at how many times I called you.” I had already seen. The second the meeting ended, I checked my phone: five missed calls and one text message. [Get the Kobe Ribeye from The Prime Butcher on your way home. They close at seven.] I’d called him back, but he never picked up. I knew he was angry. Ever since I joined the project team, my life had accelerated. When I got busy, every minute, even for eating or drinking, was calculated. Liam was a freelance artist, usually sleeping until the late afternoon. He couldn’t accept my reasons. We’d fought countless times over missed calls and slow text replies. “We had a project review today. Everyone had to silence their phones.” I put my bag down, my voice heavy with exhaustion. “I saw the text at seven-thirty.” Liam sneered. “And? Where’s the beef?” “The Prime Butcher was closed.” I pulled a clear container from my canvas bag. “But I bought you Black Cod. It’s very fresh. Twenty minutes steaming, and it’s ready.” He shot up, snatched the container, and stared at the pale red fish, his eyes dangerously cold. “Ava. I was specific. The Kobe Ribeye from The Prime Butcher.” He ground out every word: “Are you suddenly deaf, or do you just not care what I actually want?” The words ended in a low, seething growl. A few familiar sentences scrolled across my vision. [The ML is just worried the FMC is working too hard. He’s taking it out on her.] [FMC, just apologize. Say some sweet words and it will all blow over.] [Honestly, the ML just feels neglected. That’s why he’s so furious.] A massive sense of absurdity washed over me. If he was just worried about me being tired, Liam had all afternoon—why couldn’t he have gone to pick up the beef? Why was I expected to work a twelve-hour day, buy the groceries, and then cook the meal? I was too drained to argue. I tried to reason with him calmly. “Liam, I didn’t get out until eight. That place was honestly closed. This fish—you said last week you were craving it. I drove forty minutes out of the way to the seafood market for this.” “Out of your way?” He scoffed. “Ava, you are always like this. Always falling short, always just almost enough. Just like you think you’re so dedicated to this stupid job, but you can’t balance our life with your so-called career!” His voice rose sharply. “Your company is making bank—have they cut you a single check for all this? You’re always pulling all-nighters, but why are you never the one getting promoted?” I froze. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means you’re naive!” He practically yelled. “What’s the point of all this effort? You don’t have the connections, you don’t have a family name, and you’re not exactly a stunner—you are never going to move up! Just like this fish…” He violently threw the container onto the floor. “It will never replace the Kobe I wanted!” Under the harsh overhead light, Liam was breathing heavily, his eyes bulging with rage. I could barely see his face through the scrolling comments. [The ML went too far. He’ll regret this in a minute.] [He’s just worried about the FMC constantly working. He doesn’t know how to express it.] [FMC, don’t be sad. The ML actually wanted you to have the beef, not him.] I looked at the water spreading on the floor, the Black Cod’s scales flashing faintly under the light. That fish cost nearly fifty dollars. It was expensive for me. I’d deleted the new clothes I’d been eyeing for weeks from my online cart just to afford it. Now, it seemed I had lost both the pretty clothes and the fresh fish. I spoke softly. “Liam, I am genuinely exhausted.” He paused, clearly thrown by my subdued reaction. The usual Ava would already be explaining, apologizing, and placating him. She would probably promise to take a day off tomorrow just to buy him that specific beef. But he quickly recovered his rhythm, his voice louder than before, a raw, furious accusation. “You’re tired? I’m the one who’s tired!” “Waiting up for you every night, only to find out I can’t even have the one thing I asked for!” The comments kept refreshing. [The ML is using reverse psychology! He means he misses spending time with you.] [FMC, go hug him! He’s been waiting all night just to have dinner with you.] I stared at the words, and a small, brittle laugh escaped me. “What are you laughing at?” Liam frowned. I shook my head, knelt down, and carefully picked up the Black Cod. Its eyes were still clear, maintaining that fresh, glossy look. “What are you doing?” he demanded. I didn’t answer. I simply walked over to the kitchen trash can and dropped the entire fish inside. “Ava!” He shouted, his voice laced with disbelief. I turned back to him. “Since you don’t want it, I’m throwing it away.” The comments went silent for a beat, then erupted into a frenzy. [What is the FMC doing? She’s escalating the situation!] [The ML is stunned! She has never acted like this.] [It’s over, it’s really over this time!] Liam’s mouth was open, momentarily speechless. He looked at my calm face, his expression shifting from blind fury to confusion, even a hint of panic. “I’m going out.” I picked up the bag I’d just dropped. “Ava!” He called my name, his voice uncertain. “Where are you going?” I stopped at the doorway but didn’t turn around. “Maybe I’ll go find a place that’s still open right now, where I can buy The Prime Butcher’s Kobe Ribeye.” I spoke quietly. “Or maybe just a place where I can eat a meal in peace.” I opened the door, stepped out, and closed it. The actions were fluid, without hesitation. The motion-sensor light in the hallway clicked off. I stood in the dark and heard his frustrated sigh from inside the apartment. Then, the comments finally began to change. [This feels different.] [Is the FMC actually… leaving?] 2 I took a cab back to the office. Lying in the breakroom, I couldn’t fall asleep. My mind kept replaying our recent arguments. This was the third time Liam had exploded this month. The first time, it was because I was thirty seconds too slow handing him a yogurt. He threw it on the floor. “Clumsy idiot! Can’t even do one simple thing right!” The second time was even more ridiculous. I took a work call while ironing his shirt, and he snatched it away. “Is your job more important or is my shirt more important? You clearly don’t care about me! You’re completely selfish!” He acted like a constant observer in my life, using a magnifying glass to find my flaws, using any failure to immediately bend to his will as proof that I was worthless. [FMC, don’t be sad. The ML just has a short fuse, but he thinks the world of you.] [His words are harsh, but his heart is in the right place. Women really don’t need to work so hard.] [The ML is regretting everything right now, but he’s too proud to apologize. FMC, give him an opening!] The comments swirled around me like annoying flies. I suddenly realized they would always take Liam’s side, finding any excuse to absolve him. The next morning, my colleague handed me a coffee. She looked at the dark circles under my eyes and the messy bedding in the breakroom, and her concern was clear. “Ava, you look terrible. Another fight with your boyfriend?” I managed a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well.” “How many times this month?” My colleague, Maya, sighed. “Last week you were crying in the bathroom. The day before that, you had to call him during a meeting to send him a mini-manifesto of apology. Ava, this isn’t a normal relationship.” I opened my mouth, wanting to defend myself, but I couldn’t find a single reasonable argument. “Why don’t you crash at my place for a few days?” “He won’t allow it.” I rejected the idea instantly. Every time I suggested living apart, Liam would fly into a rage: “You want to break up, don’t you? I knew you didn’t love me anymore!” Then, he’d use even crueler words to validate my cold-heartedness and callousness. The final project meeting that afternoon confirmed the plan. I downed two cups of coffee and psyched myself up for another late night. Just then, my phone screen lit up. [I’m coming to pick you up after work.] Instead of the usual lift, my heart instinctively tightened. [I’m working late tonight. It’s a major push. Don’t come. I ordered that beef you like from Seamless. Just grab it.] I replied cautiously, but Liam seemed to ignore me. [Six thirty. Be downstairs on time.] The usual tone of command. [I really can’t leave. The Director is right next to me.] I could already feel the coming storm. [Ava, what is this supposed to mean?] [I actually offered to come get you. This is how you respond?] [If you don’t want to be with me, then don’t. No need for the theatrics.] Predictably, the comments were fueling the fire. [The ML is trying to be considerate!] [The ML is all talk, but the FMC must be thrilled inside!] [The ML was up all night fuming, and today he’s preparing for… hee hee, the FMC is going to have a rough night.] The Director had glanced at me several times. If I didn’t stop texting Liam, she was the one who was going to make my night rough. I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and shoved it into my desk drawer, forcing myself to concentrate. Ten minutes later, the internal office line rang suddenly. “I need to speak to Ava!” “Are you coming down or not? I’ve been waiting five minutes!” “I’m giving you three more minutes. If you don’t come down, I’m coming up to your office to find you!” Liam’s voice was so loud the handset vibrated in my hand. I lowered my voice to explain. “I’m racing a deadline. The Director is right…” “Is your Director more important than your boyfriend?” He cut me off sharply. “Or is your overtime more important than me? I came all this way to pick you up. Is this the right attitude? Ava, why are you always so selfish!” The whole office was looking at me. My face was burning. “Can you please be reasonable? This is my job…” “Job? Do you even call that pittance you make a job?” He scoffed. “A clueless brown-noser like you, are you actually thinking about a promotion? They must be really scraping the bottom of the barrel over there.” I was stunned into silence. “Thirty years old and still so clueless, still such an idealist. What do you even have? Money? Family status? Are you seriously acting like the heroine of some rags-to-riches story?” “Who else but me would put up with a personality like yours? Do you think the sky is going to fall if you’re not there to hold it up?” “You don’t even have basic social skills. If I came to pick up a dog, it would at least wag its tail. Ava, what is it that you actually bring to the table?” The comments offered their feeble defense. [The ML waited too long. Be understanding.] [He only says that because he cares. When she goes downstairs, he’ll run up and give her a big hug!] [FMC, go home with the ML. You look run-down. You need some tender loving care. Hahaha.] The comments were turning vulgar. I looked away, refusing to acknowledge Liam’s vicious remarks. Finally, he seemed to run out of steam, taking a ragged breath before asking: “Last chance. Are you coming down?” I looked at the crucial section I had just finished. I spoke softly. “No. Go home, Liam.” The line went dead silent for a moment, then I heard his voice, tight with pure venom. “Fine! Ava! You can marry your job! We’re done!” The crashing sound of a trash can being kicked silenced the entire office. I walked back to my cube, ignoring the astonished looks from my coworkers. I finished working around nine. Stepping out of the building, the night air was biting. My phone showed over a dozen missed calls. The latest text read: *[You seriously didn’t come down? I misjudged you completely! You wait!] * I turned the screen off and zipped my jacket all the way up. As I passed the corner, a street vendor selling hot pretzels was closing up shop. “Late night, miss?” The vendor, a kind old man, looked up and greeted me warmly. I managed a slight nod and kept walking. “Wait.” He called out, pulling the last pretzel from his warmer and carefully wrapping it in a paper bag. “Closing up. This one’s on me. You look completely worn out, dear. Have something warm.” In that moment, my eyes burned. Tears threatened to fall. A complete stranger could see my exhaustion and offer unsolicited warmth. And the man I lived with, the man who supposedly loved me? The old man pushed his cart away. “Go get some rest now, miss.” The pretzel in my hand radiated a warm, comforting heat, its smell simple and welcoming. The world settled back into a deep quiet. Liam didn’t send any more messages. The surface of the sea was calm, but I knew the deep currents were treacherous. Yet, I had no energy, no desire, to wrestle with his emotions anymore. I think, I really need to rest. 3 When I reached my apartment door, the electronic deadbolt screamed a harsh “BEEP-BEEP.” I paused, then entered the code again. It flashed red. “Password incorrect. Please try again.” The cold electronic voice was jarringly clear in the late-night hallway. I pulled out my phone and tried calling Liam three times. All went straight to voicemail. The fourth call didn’t even go through. The system showed my contact status as “abnormal.” He blocked me! I had no choice but to use the phone location tracker he’d insisted on opening “for my protection” to find the bar he frequented. It was almost laughable. By the time I arrived, it was eleven again. I pushed open the heavy, soundproof door, and the pounding music rushed over me. I saw Liam immediately. The long-haired woman draped over his arm was familiar: Chloe, a former college acquaintance who openly pursued him. Chloe had never hidden her hostility toward me. The first time we met, she trailed Liam, looking me up and down without politeness. Liam laughed then. “This is Chloe, an old friend. She’s crashing here for a few days.” Chloe batted her eyes, then walked over, grabbed my hand, and feigned enthusiasm. “You must be his mom, right? He said he was introducing me to his family, and you look so young, Auntie!” I had dressed up and done my makeup because I knew his friends were coming. I could find no excuse for her rudeness other than deliberate cruelty. Liam roared with laughter. “My mom? No, this is Ava, my girlfriend.” Chloe put on a show of surprise, covering her mouth with her hand, her face a mask of feigned regret. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ava! It’s just that you dress so… so maturely. I honestly thought you were his elder! Heh.” I was shaking with anger, but Liam was doubled over, justifying her behavior. “Oh, you’re too cute, Chloe! Haha! You’re still young, making a mistake is normal. It’s Ava’s fault, really. I told her her features are too average, and she insists on copying those influencers. What’s that phrase… a cheap knock-off!” At twenty-five, it was the first time I’d been called “Auntie” in public. And my boyfriend couldn’t see my humiliation or rage; he only laughed at the offender’s “innocent charm.” “The lady of the house is here!” Someone shouted, and the noisy booth suddenly went quiet. Liam slowly turned his head, his arm still resting on Chloe’s shoulder. He was clearly drunk, but his eyes held a clear, sober challenge. “Well, well, if it isn’t Ava the workaholic. What, you finally have time to grace us with your presence?” Chloe made a show of trying to stand, but he pulled her back, pinning her to his lap. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We didn’t do anything wrong.” His friends’ expressions varied. Some hooted and whistled, some looked down at their drinks, and a few girls openly watched my reaction. After everything, I have to say, I was past the point of being angry at this kind of pathetic drama. Last month, I got soaked in a downpour. I called Liam to pick me up. He agreed, but never showed up, finally turning his phone off. I got home, completely drenched. The “unreachable” Liam was in the living room blow-drying Chloe’s hair. She was wearing my sweatshirt. Seeing my miserable entrance, he seemed to realize what he’d promised, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes. But he immediately became defensive. “Chloe couldn’t get an Uber. She’s a young girl, and she doesn’t have any friends here. I couldn’t just leave her. As for you, why couldn’t you ride with a coworker? Why are you always so dramatic?” Chloe stood up nervously, her voice a delicate purr. “Liam, is Ava going to be mad?” Liam shrugged dismissively. “She’s not that petty.” The comments went silent for a moment, then rushed back in to defend him. [The ML is right. The FMC can’t rely on the ML for everything.] [The ML is just trying to teach her how to solve problems independently. It’s understandable.] Later that night, when I tried to express my frustration in the bedroom, Liam blamed me. “Can you stop being so sensitive? Sure, Chloe has a crush on me, but I don’t like her. If anything was going to happen between us, it would have already.” “Liam,” I said, my voice flat. “Did you change the door code?” He let out an exaggerated laugh. “Of course, I did. It’s my apartment, babe. Get it straight—why should you get to walk in whenever you feel like it?” He then leaned in and whispered something to Chloe, who giggled and playfully pushed his shoulder. [FMC, get mad! The ML is waiting for you to throw a drink in the Other Woman’s face!] [The ML is trying to provoke you. Tell him you care! Give him the validation he wants!] [The little tea girl is a total snake, but what guy can resist… HAHAHAHA.] The comments were flashing like a strobe light, dictating the appropriate emotional response. I was supposed to flip the table right now. But watching Liam’s deliberately performed intimacy, I suddenly found it all tedious. The three years of our relationship felt profoundly pointless. “Fine. I understand.” I nodded and turned to leave. One of Liam’s friends followed me. “He’s had too much to drink, Ava. Don’t take it personally…” I stopped, and I heard Liam shout from behind me. “Let her go! Don’t pretend you’re above it! You’re probably tearing up inside!” “Chloe, you ever heard that saying? Swallow your tears, don’t swallow blood—internal injuries are hard to fix! Hahaha!” He sounded smug, as if he had finally won this round of the emotional game. His friend looked at me awkwardly. “He really crossed the line tonight…” “It’s okay,” I interrupted him, my voice surprisingly calm. “I’m going.” Work really did have the ability to strip away a person’s passions and emotions. All I wanted was a long, quiet sleep. If I couldn’t go back to that apartment, I simply wouldn’t go back. I checked into a hotel, took a long, satisfying hot shower, and ordered the expensive meal I had always denied myself: a perfectly seared steak and a glass of good Bordeaux. A half-glass of wine cut through the mental fog, clarifying everything. I realized: when you’re constantly losing, the only way to win is to walk away from the table. This time, I was not going back.

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1 Mia, my husband’s assistant, just stole the ten-million-dollar semiconductor deal I landed. At the celebration dinner, she boasted she was better than me and demanded I call her “Mommy.” I hurled a glass of wine in her face. “You backstabbing bitch. You stole my work. What’s there to be so proud of?” “You think I can’t get Sterling Corp. to cancel this deal right now?” But then my husband, Leo, slapped me across the face. “Just do what she says! The contract’s signed. You think you can just cancel it? Sterling Corp. is one of the biggest tech firms in the world. You think they’ll listen to you?” “Come on, everyone, a round of applause! Let’s cheer Laura on!” With the CEO backing her, Mia became impossibly arrogant, climbing onto a chair to look down on me. “Laura,” she cooed, “everyone’s watching. Don’t make this hard for me, okay?” I let out a cold laugh and pulled out my phone, dialing the chairman of Sterling Corp. directly. “Dad, I need you to come to my office. Cancel every contract, every single order.” … “Daddy, I’m so scared!” Mia actually had the gall to call my husband ‘daddy’ right then and there! She shot me a look of pure defiance. “I can’t believe the chairman of the world’s top semiconductor firm is your father. I guess that makes Leo my daddy now!” Then, turning to Leo, she simpered, “Besides, you said your dad already handed the company over to my daddy. He wouldn’t let you do something so rash, would he? Right, Dad?” Her clique of sycophants whistled and cheered. “Mia’s a legend!” “Haha, what a power move! Nothing to lose by calling him ‘daddy’!” Leo actually chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. Everyone knew he doted on Mia, spoiling her rotten. No one was allowed to so much as frown in her direction, not even me. That’s why she felt so untouchable. His face hardened as he tossed a termination notice onto the table in front of me. “Sterling Corp. is a global leader in chip design,” he sneered. “You think just because you share a last name, you’re his daughter? Today, Mia is the hero of this company, and you will do as she asks. Call her ‘Mommy,’ or you’re fired. Now.” I felt like a clown trapped in a spotlight, being forced by my own husband to call another woman my mother. They called him the “King of Silicon,” a title he only had because I, in a grand gesture to prove my love, had handed my entire company over to him. Richard Sterling, the chairman of Sterling Corp., really was my father. But our family had a strict rule: once a child came of age, they had to go out and build their own success from scratch, without revealing their identity. I’d never told Leo, but I had been secretly going to my father for deals to help him succeed. I never imagined I’d be nurturing a viper. The room buzzed with whispers as everyone waited for the punchline of their joke. “Leo himself is telling her to do it. She wouldn’t dare refuse.” “Mia’s really hit the big time. Having the CEO’s wife call her ‘Mommy’? She’ll be dining out on that story for the rest of her life!” From her perch on the chair, Mia flashed a triumphant grin, her gaze dripping with condescension. Rage boiled over, and I yanked her off that chair. “You’re not worthy!” A collective gasp filled the room. Mia hit the floor with a hard thud, wailing in pain. “Laura, are you out of your goddamn mind?” A brutal kick from behind sent me sprawling. It was Leo. Mia scrambled up, clutching Leo’s arm and sobbing. “Leo, did I do something wrong by landing this deal? This is so humiliating! And I hurt all over… I feel like I’m dying. Why is she treating me like this?” Her performance struck a chord deep in Leo’s heart. He stroked her cheek tenderly. “Mia, don’t be upset. I’ll make sure she calls you whatever you want, okay?” Then, he turned on me, his eyes blazing. “Laura, you’re not going to do it, are you?” He barked at the others. “What are you all standing there for? Hold her down! Make her apologize to Mia and call her ‘Mommy’!” Instantly, the women who were always kissing up to Mia swarmed me. I fought back, but I was outnumbered. They pinned me to the floor, their weight crushing me. “How dare you touch Mia.” “Don’t you know? In Leo’s eyes, Mia’s sweeter and knows how to get what she wants. That makes her more important than you.” Their words were like gasoline on a fire. “This is my company! I built it! Is this a mutiny?” For a second, they all froze. But Mia, ever the actress, started fanning the flames again. “Leo, it’s fine if she kills me. But you… you work yourself to the bone for this company, day and night. She doesn’t appreciate you, and now she’s claiming the company is hers? How can anyone be so cruel?” Leo’s face flushed with rage. “Who told you to stop? This company is mine, and I call the shots!” “Make her say it!” A heavy force slammed my head against the floor. Once. Twice. The sharp, coppery tang of blood filled the air. “Call her Mommy, do you hear me?” “We only listen to Mia and Leo! Got it?” My head was splitting open, the pain a white-hot agony that ripped through my nerves. I had given him the company because he’d told me he was afraid I’d leave him if my business became too successful. I couldn’t bear to see him sad, so I handed it all over, telling him I would work for him from now on. My father had been furious, warning me against it. We fought, nearly severing our relationship, but I was blinded by love and ignored him. Now his words echoed in my head: You can never see what’s truly in a person’s heart. The rage and betrayal gave me a surge of impossible strength. I threw them off me. “Leo, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building this company! It’s mine, and I’m taking it back!” That only made him angrier. “You’re going to turn on me over this? Just because I asked you to call her ‘Mommy’?” “Laura, I am the legal owner of this company now. On what grounds do you think you can just take it back?” I pulled out my phone and brought up a copy of the transfer agreement I’d made him sign. “Who said once it was yours, it was yours forever?” “It’s written right here, clear as day: The first party reserves the right to reclaim ownership of the company at any time.” I’d put that clause in thinking of him. If he, being inexperienced, ever ran into serious trouble, I could take the company back and bear the consequences myself, protecting him from ruin. He was, after all, the husband I loved more than anything. I never thought I’d be using it against him. I expected him to be speechless, to finally apologize. Instead, Mia let out a cold, knowing laugh. “See, Leo? I told you. I knew she’d regret it someday.” Before I could process what she meant, Leo took out his own phone and showed me the official, hard-copy agreement. “Open your eyes and look closely. That clause isn’t here.” My world tilted. A buzzing filled my ears. I remembered it all in a flash. After drafting the agreement on my computer, I showed it to Leo, explaining my good intentions with the reclamation clause. He was so moved he agreed immediately and asked Mia to print it out for us to sign. “Mia,” I seethed, my eyes burning holes into her. “This was you, wasn’t it?” When we signed, I was so full of love and trust for Leo that I never doubted either of them. “I was just looking out for Leo,” she said with a shrug. “And look, you did go back on your word, didn’t you? Besides, it’s your own fault for not reading the fine print.” “You monster!” I lunged at her, wanting to tear her apart. “Hold her down!” Leo roared. His loyal cronies grabbed me again, pinning me to the floor, a foot planted firmly on my back. “You have some nerve, Laura. Accusing Mia when you’re the one with ulterior motives.” “Call her ‘daddy,’ or I’ll let them beat you to death. Try me.” “Stop!” A powerful voice cut through the chaos. I looked up. It was my father. He had gotten my call and rushed over. Richard Sterling. The chairman of the most advanced chip design firm in the world. He was in the city for a conference and must have been so worried he came alone. Tears welled in my eyes. “Mia, was it?” my father boomed, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you have any idea who you’re messing with? You want to be my grandmother?” “Let go of my daughter! This is assault, and I’m pressing charges! I will sue every single one of you!” He shoved them away and helped me to my feet. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Dad’s here. I’ll make them pay. Not a single one of them is getting away with this.” The room fell into a stunned silence. “That’s Laura’s father?” “No way… is that really Richard Sterling?” Leo’s brow furrowed in suspicion. “Laura, if he were your father, don’t you think I would have met him by now?” Confusion spread through the crowd. I scoffed silently. My father, despite his status, rarely made public appearances. And because of the family rule, children building their careers couldn’t return to the fold until their companies hit the billion-dollar mark. That’s why he wasn’t even at my wedding. “Because I never told you,” I said, my voice cold. “He is my father. And he’s the man behind Sterling Corp., the company you’ve been so desperate to work with.” Mia gasped. “You’re saying he’s really Richard Sterling?” “Now get on your knees and apologize!” I roared. But her shock quickly morphed into a sneer. “Oh, give me a break.” “You knew we’d never met him, so you hired an actor to play the part, didn’t you?” she accused, her voice ringing with false confidence. “Everyone on the planet wishes they were Richard Sterling’s kid. If you really were, you think you could have kept it a secret this long?” Her cronies chimed in. “Yeah, if my dad was Richard Sterling, I’d have it tattooed on my forehead.” “She really thinks sharing a last name makes her royalty.” Leo’s jaw was clenched in fury. “You’d go this far just to avoid calling her ‘Mommy’? Have you no shame?” “Get this impostor out of here!” As they moved toward my father, I threw myself in front of them. My dad had disapproved when I gave Leo the company, and he’d been furious when I came begging for contracts for Leo’s sake, calling me a fool. But in the end, he was still my father, and I was still his daughter. He always gave in. Since Leo was still so stubbornly blind, I would have my dad cancel the deals right in front of his face. “Dad, I was wrong,” I choked out. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. You were right about him.” “It’s okay, sweetheart. Dad will always have your back.” My father took out his phone. “This is Richard Sterling. As of this moment, Sterling Corp. is terminating all contracts and partnerships with Apex Innovations. Effective immediately.” “I can afford the penalty fees.” Then he turned to Leo, his voice laced with ice. “This company belongs to my daughter. If you don’t hand it over, I will find the best lawyers on the planet and I will sue you into oblivion.” But Leo, pushed past his breaking point, snatched my father’s phone and smashed it on the ground. “Laura, how long are you going to keep this act up? You’re disgusting!” A wave of shock rippled through the room. No one had ever dared to treat my father like this. “Leo, you have no idea what you’re doing! You’re playing with fire!” my father roared. In response, Leo swung his arm back and slapped my father across the face. The sound was a sharp, deafening crack. “You old man,” Leo spat. “You think you can scare me?” “You didn’t want to leave? Fine. Beat him until he can’t stand!” In a heartbeat, Mia’s friends and the men in the room dragged my father to a corner and began to beat him with their fists and feet. He was in his fifties; he was no match for a mob of twenty-somethings. They treated him like a stray dog. A knife twisted in my gut. I screamed and tried to get to him, but the remaining few held me back. “Leo, he really is my father! You’re signing your own death warrant!” “Let him go! Let my father go!” I thrashed against their grip. Leo stared at me, his face a mask of resentment. “Mia is young and beautiful, and she cares about her image. What would it have cost you to stroke her ego and call her ‘Mommy’? You can call this fraud ‘daddy,’ but you can’t do that one small thing for her?” His voice rose with fury. “You want to protect this impostor? Fine! Then you can watch while I teach him a lesson!” Mia ran over to join them, shouting for them to strip my father naked. As he struggled, she grabbed a chair and brought it down with sickening force across his lower back. He collapsed, unable to move. Then, Mia grabbed his pants and yanked them down, turning away with a mock blush. The crowd erupted in cruel laughter. “Hahaha, old man! That’s what you get for lying!” “Ha!” Leo clapped, applauding her actions. My father is my world. Seeing him like this, a primal rage erupted in me, hot and blinding. I fought with everything I had. Leo struck me, a blow so hard my head spun. “What are you screaming for? This is what you get for trying to trick me! Now watch.” Seeing Leo’s approval, Mia’s cruelty escalated. She demanded my father kneel and act like her dog. When he resisted, she smashed a beer bottle over his head. Blood sprayed across the floor. Her cronies forced him to his knees. She lifted her foot, digging the heel of her stiletto into the gash on his head. “Bark! I said bark!” Bloody footprints smeared the floor. I couldn’t imagine how much blood he’d lost. I felt something break inside me. I was going to be sick. Just then, an employee from the business department burst in, looking panicked. “Leo! I—I just got a call. It’s real. It’s from Sterling Corp. They said they’re canceling everything, at any cost. Analysis shows… our losses will be in the hundreds of billions…” Leo’s jaw dropped. He turned and stared at me, his face a canvas of pure shock.

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For thrills, my boyfriend tricked me into drinking a spiked cocktail. But just as the drugs kicked in, he got a call from his “White Moonlight”—the one that got away—and ditched me. I was about to protest when a stream of comments, like a live chat, suddenly floated across my vision: 【What a scumbag! How could he leave our girl at a time like this?! I’m fuming!】 【Scumbag is running to his ex again. Our girl is so pitiful!】 【Girl, forget that trash! Go next door and find Dr. Gu! He’s super in love with you!】 【Don’t hesitate! Dr. Gu is your antidote!】 I couldn’t think straight. Fighting the heat rising in my body, I knocked on my neighbor’s door. “Dr. Gu, help me…” 1 After hanging up, Caleb pulled his half-removed pants back up. “Something came up. I have to go out. Handle it yourself.” I was stunned, the drugs already clouding my mind. “You’re leaving now? What about me?” Hearing this, Caleb’s face darkened instantly. “Chloe, you’re an adult. Can’t you handle yourself?” Unbelievable. He drugged me, and now he wants me to “handle it myself”?! Before I could beg him to stay, his tone turned impatient. “Enough! Bella is sick. Can you not start drama with me right now?” The words died in my throat. I could only endure the torture of the drug, watching him leave in despair. The second the door clicked shut, floating text appeared before my eyes: 【How can this scumbag leave our girl now? That’s too much!】 【This is the eighth time Bella has been ‘sick’ this month. Every time, the scumbag dumps our girl for her! As expected of a melodramatic heroine, she’s tragic!】 【I can’t watch this. Who will save our girl?!】 【Girl, forget the scumbag. If you’re suffering, go find Dr. Gu next door! He’s your cure!】 【Yes! Go next door! Dr. Gu is tall and handsome, way better than that trash!】 I felt dizzy staring at the floating text. Dr. Gu? Dr. Gu, the aloof neighbor with the “do not disturb” face? Fueled by the drug, my body burned hotter and hotter. I couldn’t care less. Fighting the waves of heat, I stumbled to the door next door and knocked. 2 I knocked a few times. No answer. I must be hallucinating to believe floating text. Just as I turned to leave, the door clicked open behind me. A voice called out. “Chloe?” I turned around and met Dr. Gu’s deep, dark eyes. He must have just showered. He was shirtless, a white towel wrapped low around his waist. Looking closer… Broad shoulders, narrow waist, eight-pack abs… Water droplets still clung to his tight muscles. But right now, this view was adding fuel to the fire. My heart raced uncontrollably, chest heaving with every quick breath. A cool voice broke the silence. “Like what you see?” I looked up instinctively. Even backlit, I could clearly see his prominent brow bone, high nose bridge, and slightly upturned lips. How did I not notice before? Dr. Gu’s face is like an otome game character come to life! Blinded by his beauty, I blurted out: “Yes…” The figure froze. Dr. Gu’s expression turned unnatural. The floating comments exploded. 【OMG! Our girl is so direct! I love it!】 【What did I just see? The high-mountain flower blushed!】 【More than blushed! She said he looked good, and he… that’s ridiculous!】 I looked down instinctively and had to agree. …Indeed, ridiculous. The comments continued: 【Help! Even in a towel… I can’t imagine…】 【Hahaha, Dr. Gu is down bad!!】 【So tense, so exciting! Is the scene I’ve been waiting for finally happening?!】 【I command you, do it now! Immediately!】 3 I collapsed into Dr. Gu’s arms like a damp sponge. “Dr. Gu, I feel terrible…” “Can you kiss me?” Hearing this, the figure stiffened visibly. 【Mommy! Who gets it? Her voice is so soft and teary, my heart is melting!】 【Forget you, Dr. Gu is about to lose it, hahaha.】 【Understandable. He’s been crushing on her for three years. He must be exploding.】 【For real. Every time he saw her with the scumbag, his heart must have bled.】 The comments confused me. They said… Dr. Gu has liked me for three years? Why didn’t I notice at all? Before I could think, a sudden force pulled me inside. Bang! The door slammed shut behind us. My vision was blocked by a tall figure. He was looking down at me. Slender fingers brushed my cheek, warm breath fanning over me as he gently lifted my chin. His tone remained cool. “What did you mean just now?” I was forced to meet his gaze. Up close, I was suddenly too nervous to speak. But he didn’t seem ready to let me off. A dangerously charming face leaned in close to mine. “Be clear…” “Where does it hurt?” 4 I blushed, not knowing how to answer. But the heat was unbearable. So I grabbed his hands—those distinct, bony hands. 【Help! Can I watch this? Our girl is too good!】 【Who can resist this! Is a physical exam next? So exciting!】 【Can’t hold it back! RIP to the panties today!!!】 Feeling my touch, his breath hitched. He froze, face red enough to explode. Taking advantage of the moment, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I stood on tiptoes and kissed him lightly. The moment our lips met, he completely surrendered. I don’t know how long we kissed. I found myself placed on a soft bed. The man’s muscular body leaned over, enveloping me in an ambiguous shadow. “Chloe, how do you want me to help?” Before I could speak, his high nose nuzzled my neck and shoulder. A numbness spread from my ears to my entire body. I shivered uncontrollably. But then, my phone rang inappropriately. I couldn’t be bothered to look. I fumbled and hit reject. But as soon as one call ended, another came. The man above me stopped, staring straight at the phone. “Sorry, I’ll turn it off.” I moved to grab the phone. But a large hand pressed my wrist down. “Maybe… we should stop.”

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