Category: English

I’m a professional scammer. I once posed as the “White Moonlight”—the first love—of a blind heir. I played the role for three years, gave birth to a child, and left. Five years later, I was running a fortune-telling stall. A kid walked up and handed me a thousand dollars. “I want to find out where my mom is.” Just as I pocketed the cash, a woman rushed over. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She looked familiar. I thought for a moment. Ah, it’s the real White Moonlight of that blind heir. After a few seconds of silence. I took the money out and handed it back to the kid. “Your mom is here. Here’s your money back.” He didn’t take the money. He just stared at me unblinkingly. “She’s not the mom I’m looking for.” 1 My hand froze in mid-air. A moment later, I turned to Sofia. “Kids will be kids. You should take the money.” She took the cash and grabbed the boy’s arm to leave. He bit her hand, snatched the thousand dollars back. “This is my allowance! You can’t take it!” Sofia hissed in pain, glaring down at him. “Leo!” Then she caught herself, squatting down and softening her voice. “Be good, come home with Mommy. Daddy will be worried.” “You guys ignore me anyway! Just go have another one!” Leo pushed her away, sat back down on the stool properly, and handed me the money again. Sofia sneered, giving me a meaningful look. “Fine, read his fortune. See if his mom still wants him.” From her tone, Leo definitely knew she wasn’t his biological mother. Did that mean Julian knew too? But when I left, I was still using Sofia’s identity. My mind was a mess. But I kept a straight face, took the money, and asked Leo: “Do you know your birth date?” Of course I knew the answer. Ten months of pregnancy, a C-section, pain like I was being ripped apart. Hard to forget. “January 8th, 2020.” He looked at me seriously. “Daddy said it was really cold that day.” I remembered. It snowed that day. The hospital room and the world outside were all white. I always had poor circulation; even with the heater blasting, my hands and feet were freezing in winter. That night, Julian sat at the foot of the bed, warming my feet with his hands. He sat there all night. But he was warming Sofia, not Jane. I looked at the real Sofia standing in front of me and buried those memories deep down again. Then I pulled out some wooden sticks and pretended to calculate. After a while, I said, “You and your mom have no destiny together. Stop looking.” Leo’s lip quivered. “Liar.” “Daddy said Mommy is in the place with the most liars.” 2 I am indeed a good liar. A professional one. I’ve posed as parents, girlfriends, mistresses—always five-star reviews. I played online dating games, scammed guys out of a couple grand then broke up with them to teach them a lesson. I tricked rich kids into opening bottles worth tens of thousands at clubs. … But the biggest con of my life… Was pretending to be Sofia and deceiving Julian for three years. Sofia went abroad, Julian chased after her, got into a car accident on the way, and went blind. He became depressed and withdrawn. Julian’s parents couldn’t stand it, so they found me to impersonate Sofia. To play the role perfectly, I went all in. Learned bass, adjusted my voice, learned to sing. Yes, they were musicians. The band was just getting famous when Sofia chose to study abroad. So they fell apart. The first time I saw Julian, he was sitting by a floor-to-ceiling window, staring at the shadows of trees outside. His eyes were lifeless. I imitated Sofia’s tone and told him I was back. But I didn’t expect his first sentence to be— “Why did you use an erhu in the intro of that demo?” I had imagined countless scenarios where I’d need to act. Crying together, fighting, a warm reconciliation. But never this. So, I stammered for a while and only managed to say: “To promote traditional culture.” Silence fell. Julian tilted his head, confusion in his sightless eyes. Finally. He said, “I want to hear you sing. Our first song.” I sighed in relief. Luckily, I had practiced every one of their songs thousands of times. I knew them by heart. Julian played the piano for me. Even blind, he played beautifully. He just couldn’t see the sheet music anymore. When the song ended, he said: “You sang well. Better than before.” 3 Whether Julian knew of my existence or not, I was a money-grubbing liar. I played his first love for money. I gave birth to a child for money. And for money, I left without looking back. I didn’t deserve him. And I didn’t deserve to be Leo’s mom. Snapping back to reality, I said expressionlessly: “Then you should go to the police station. Lots of liars there.” Leo’s round, almond eyes suddenly turned red. He looked helpless. Sofia smirked. “Can we go now?” Leo reluctantly followed her. He kept looking back at me as he walked away. Looking so aggrieved. I lowered my head, packing up the wooden sticks and charts. Then I adjusted my white wig, limped away without looking back. After turning a corner, I hopped on my electric scooter. Zoomed away. They shouldn’t have recognized me. I had never met Sofia. And I suppressed the urge to peek at Leo for five years. Plus, I was disguised as an old woman. Fortune tellers need to look old to be credible. So, I thought this was just a random encounter. Until the next day. Leo came back to my stall, pulled out a thousand bucks. “Calculate my mom’s name.” I hesitated and asked, “You come out alone every day? Doesn’t your family care?” He shook his head. “Daddy went shopping with that woman. I snuck out.” That woman? He didn’t call Sofia “Mom.” Was she bad to him? I thought about it for a long time, then took the money. Better with me than wasted. I shook the sticks and gave him an answer. “Your mom’s last name is Jane. But the first name is hard to calculate.” “Buy a Heavenly Charm from me, $6480, and I’ll tell you right away.” 4 This time, Leo was crying as Sofia dragged him away. Because I scammed all his toy money and didn’t tell him the first name. He wailed as he left. “Waaaah, Mom really is a big liar waaah, my Transformers and Ultraman waaaah.” He was definitely looking for me on purpose. But who told him I was his mom? Julian? Or his parents? But none of them had a reason to tell him. The kid’s crying was loud. Other vendors cast scornful looks at me. I ignored them. Got on my scooter and left without looking back. I thought the little prince would give up. But for the next few days, he kept coming to my stall. Sending money. I moved east, moved west, even set up in front of a temple, couldn’t shake him. The last time. He wore overalls and a little backpack, sat on my stool. “Big Liar, I want to live at your house.” “…” I packed up quickly and pulled the stool out from under him. Leo landed on his butt. He stood up shakily, patted the dust off, and looked at me with puppy dog eyes. He was really good at playing the victim. Just like Julian sometimes. I pushed down the feeling in my heart, ignored him, and walked away. Rich kid out alone? Impossible without bodyguards. It’s a trap. But after turning the corner, I didn’t get on the scooter. I took a different path and watched Leo from afar. He stood there, hands clasped nervously, staring in the direction I left. Like an exquisite little figurine. His features looked like me, but his aura was more like Julian. The first time I saw him, my heart tugged involuntarily. Almost cried. But my acting has always been top-notch. Half an hour passed. Leo didn’t leave, and no one from the Sterling family appeared. …Is this how Julian treats his son? Because he knows he’s not Sofia’s child, he doesn’t care? An indescribable bitterness surged in my heart. I stared at Leo for a long time, then finally walked back to him. “Let’s go. Come home with me.”

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When I took Leo for his annual physical, the nurse mentioned he was charting a little short and suggested we look into his growth development. I immediately booked an appointment at a pediatric growth clinic. When the results came back, the doctor looked at me, perplexed. “Are you absolutely sure Leo is six years old?” I blinked. “Yes. His birthday was just a few weeks ago.” The doctor pointed to the X-rays. “His bone age indicates he’s closer to five.” “I think I’d remember my own son’s birthday,” I snapped, grabbing Leo’s hand and walking out. I drove straight to the private hospital owned by my best friend, Marcus Bell. He pulled in the most respected pediatric specialist, who didn’t just re-shoot the bone age scan, but also ran a full workup, including a telomere length test. The specialist’s face was grave. “Both the bone age and telomere results are consistent with a five-year-old. If you are certain about his birth date… Mr. Sullivan, I recommend a paternity test.” The world went quiet. A dull roar filled my ears. Thirty minutes later, the nurse handed me the report. The words were black and white, utterly unambiguous: “Paternity Excluded.” I gripped the paper, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Then where is my son? Where is my child?” 1 Marcus glanced at Leo, who was oblivious, playing with a toy car. “Dean,” he lowered his voice. “The kid… he really doesn’t look like you. But he’s the spitting image of Tia.” It hit me. Six years ago, I was pulled onto a top-secret mission. To insulate Tia and the baby from any risk, I’d lied, telling her I was launching a startup in Africa. I went dark for an entire year. When I returned with a commendation ribbon, a year later, Leo was tiny and thin, looking nothing like the robust infant I’d left behind. Tia had tearfully claimed she’d suffered terrible insomnia after I left, her milk dried up early, and that’s why the baby was so frail. My guilt had been immense. From that day on, I never questioned her, always trying to compensate for my absence. Just then, my phone rang. Tia’s furious voice hit me like a physical blow. “A simple physical exam and it took you this long? You can’t even manage that! God, you’re useless!” I mumbled some vague excuse and got off the line. My gut was screaming that this was the tip of an ugly iceberg, but I knew better than to tip my hand now. I hung up and drove Leo back to the car. He immediately started kicking the back of my seat. “Stop it,” I warned him over my shoulder. He suddenly raised his little fist and, before I could react, slammed it into my eye. My vision flashed white. I swerved, nearly hitting a parked tree. “My mom says you’re just a mooch who lives off her money. You don’t get to tell me what to do!” He wasn’t mine. That vicious, entitled streak was a clear sign. He was an ungrateful little viper. I’d poured my heart and soul into raising him for years, and it was worth less than feeding a stray dog. “Act up one more time,” I growled, “and I swear I’m pulling over and leaving you on the curb!” When we got to Tia’s office building, she was waiting outside, hands on her hips, instantly furious. “Three hours for a check-up? Three hours! Are you going to pay for Leo missing his classes?” The kid, seizing the moment, kicked me hard, spat a glob of saliva onto my shirt, and instantly hid behind Tia. I had to swallow the urge to grab him and shake him. Finding my real son was the priority now. I locked eyes with Tia. “We’ve been married for eight years. If you’ve done anything to betray me, I’m giving you a chance to be honest right now.” A flash of panic crossed her face, but she instantly regained her composure. “Are you losing it? You’re a grown man who can’t hold a decent job or handle one kid, and now you’re trying to gaslight me? Get a grip!” “Apologize to me right now! Or you can forget about your allowance this month!” People passing by stopped and stared, whispering and pointing. “Look, it’s the guy who lives off his wife…” I was about to say something, anything, when Marcus’s call came in. “Dean, I have a lead on the whole Leo situation. Get back here now.” I turned to leave, but Tia grabbed my arm. “You will apologize to me!” I shoved her hand away. She stared at my retreating back, utterly stunned. “How dare you…” I burst into Marcus’s office. He looked worried. “Dean, try to stay calm.” He slid a manila envelope across his desk and opened it. I thought I was prepared for anything, but what I saw obliterated me. Shortly after I’d deployed, Tia had reconnected with her high school sweetheart, Rex Kincaid. She’d gotten pregnant with his child. To ensure her bastard son got citizenship and access to the city’s resources, she had substituted him for my Owen. My real son, Owen, had been dumped on her aunt in a rural, run-down county, with only two hundred dollars a month for his upkeep. I shattered the glass on the desk. “That snake! That viper!” I spun toward the door, ready to drive to her hometown. Marcus grabbed me. “Wait. Owen isn’t there anymore. Every summer, her aunt would essentially rent him out to an old man in the village to take him out begging. They’re transients… they could be anywhere.” Begging. The word was a punch to the gut. I felt the office spin. I forced myself steady. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I hadn’t touched in six years. “This is Dean Sullivan. Please… I need your help finding my son.” A deep, resonant voice answered immediately. “You are a national asset, Dr. Sullivan. Rest assured, we never abandon our own.” I hung up, my heart tearing apart. My Owen should have been enrolling in the city’s best prep school, not kneeling on a street corner, kowtowing for change. Thirty minutes later, the contact texted me an address. It was in a dilapidated, almost slum-like part of the city. I grabbed my keys and sprinted out. The address led me to a grimy, boarded-up rental room. Before I even reached the door, I heard a child’s panicked wailing. Then came an old man’s furious yell: “That’s all you brought back all day? I’ll beat you to death, you worthless brat!” I kicked the door in, lunged forward, and pulled the boy into my arms. I looked down at his face—a mirror image of my own. I didn’t need the DNA test. This was my Owen. The initial shock of relief gave way to horror. I saw a small space heater with a piece of metal—a branding iron—glowing on top. The boy’s thin legs bore two identical, circular scars. The wounds were festering, weeping pus, and the stench was sickening. “Are you even human?” I roared, kicking the old man square in the stomach. I carried Owen and burst into the ER. “Doctor, fast! My son needs help!” The doctor later told me that a few more hours, and they would have had to amputate. I sat by his bed, watching his pale, frail face, my heart aching with a physical pain. His lashes fluttered. When he saw me, he flinched and tried to shrink back into the covers, his wide eyes filled with pure terror. I gently held his cold little hand, my voice thick with emotion. “I am so sorry, Owen. Daddy was late. You shouldn’t have suffered.” “You’re… my dad?” he whispered, testing the words. I nodded hard. “Yes. And I’m going to take care of you, always.” CRASH! A heavy thermos slammed into the bedrail right beside Owen’s head. If it had hit him, the damage would have been catastrophic. A child’s laugh echoed from the doorway. “Fun! That was so much fun! I got a bulls-eye!” I looked at the thermos on the floor—it had a cute dinosaur print. I’d special-ordered it from Japan last year. For Leo. Tia stormed in, pointing a finger at my face. “Dean Sullivan, are you insane? How dare you have the police arrest my uncle! Go down to the precinct and get him released right now!” Only then did I realize: the old man who had brutalized my son was her uncle. That whole family, a nest of vipers. I gave a slow, cold smile. I stepped aside, revealing Owen, who was still flinching behind me. Tia’s jaw dropped. “L-Leo? What are you doing here?” Rex’s son, Leo, pointed at Owen. “Hey, isn’t that the nasty beggar from my great-aunt’s place?” The disgust in his eyes was palpable. Tia instantly shoved Leo behind her, her eyes scanning me with deep suspicion. Her gaze darted everywhere but mine. “What… what exactly do you know?” she asked, her voice a low trial balloon. “I know the ‘Leo’ you’ve been raising is Rex Kincaid’s bastard.” I smiled, but my eyes felt like chips of ice. She decided to abandon the pretense. Her voice shot up, hysterical. “And what right do you have to feel wronged? Everything you eat, everything you wear, is paid for by me!” She lunged half a step forward, flecks of spittle hitting my face. “You said you were starting a company in Africa. What happened? You came crawling back with nothing! If Rex hadn’t shown me how to run a business, I’d be sucking wind following you!” “And that justifies your cheating? That justifies dumping my son in the middle of nowhere so your bastard could steal his name and his life?” “Yes!” She jutted her chin out, screaming. “Rex knows how to give me the life I deserve! He’s a real man! And I’m happy to have his kid!” She pointed at me, spitting on the floor near my feet. “You are a spineless, worthless coward! And that’s why your son deserved to be a nobody in some trailer park!” She grabbed the glass sitting on the bedside table and threw it at me. I threw up my arm to deflect it, and a shard scraped a bloody line across my wrist. On the bed, Owen flinched violently. His voice was a thin sob. “I’ll be good. I’ll call you Aunt Tia now, I promise I won’t call you Mom. Please, don’t hit my daddy…” A crowd of onlookers had gathered. Murmurs began to rise. “How could a mother be so cruel to such a sweet child?” I stroked Owen’s hair, then pulled a folded document from my jacket pocket and slapped it onto the bedside table. “Divorce. And your bastard is giving my son his name back.” Cutting all ties with Tia was the immediate priority. I had to ensure this snake could never touch Owen again. Tia snatched the document, tore it into confetti, and threw the pieces in my face. “You want a divorce? It’ll be on my terms!” Barely five minutes later, the door flew open. Rex Kincaid stood there, flanked by over a dozen sharply dressed lawyers, a looming, black cloud of suits. Leo, the fake son, immediately darted forward and latched onto Rex’s leg. “Daddy! Dean Sullivan called me a bastard! Beat him up for me!” Rex’s eyes slid over to me, dripping with contempt. “Don’t worry, son. Daddy’s going to make him kneel and apologize.” One of his lawyers stepped forward and flicked a document into my chest. “Mr. Sullivan, take a look.” It was a post-nuptial agreement. When I’d returned from my mission, Tia had played the victim, claiming she felt insecure after my year-long absence. Drowning in guilt, I signed it without a second thought. The agreement stipulated that all assets acquired during our marriage belonged solely to her, and in the event of a divorce, I would walk away with nothing. Rex’s smile stretched ear to ear. “Kneel and beg my son for forgiveness, and I might let you keep that dump of a house. Otherwise, you and your little tramp can sleep under a bridge tonight.” Tia wrapped her arm around Rex, her face smug. “Even if you steal back your son’s name, so what? No house means no residency, and no elite schools!” “Keep the ‘dump.’ You earned it.” I picked up the pre-torn agreement, pulled out a pen, and signed my name on a clean corner. Tia bent down to Owen’s level. “Your daddy is broke. Empty pockets. He’s going to take you begging, honey. You two can hold hands and beg on the street corner. Ha ha ha!” Owen choked, grabbing my shirt. “Daddy, I don’t need to eat meat. I’m good at working hard. Please, don’t make me beg…” My throat tightened until I couldn’t speak. I pulled him into my chest. “I promise, Owen. You will never suffer like that again. I’m going to make you the happiest kid in the world.” “What a performance!” Rex scoffed, pulling out his phone and shoving a video in my face. “Take a look—you’ve officially been evicted.” The screen showed my living room. My personal assistant was tossing my belongings into massive trash bags. Then the camera panned to my study. My computer—the monitor smashed, the CPU tower shoved into a recycling bin. The hard drive held my most recent, classified research—work that, if successfully implemented, could completely eradicate the Ebola virus. I immediately dialed my secure contact number, summarizing the situation in three clipped sentences. A calm, grave voice responded: “Order received. Immediate action.” Less than three minutes later, the video on Rex’s phone suddenly shifted tone. A swarm of people in specialized tactical gear poured into my house. A man in sunglasses said something to the assistant, who instantly went slack-kneed and collapsed to the floor, terrified. Next, several agents carefully knelt by the recycling bin, retrieving the damaged PC parts. They handled the hard drive as if it were a priceless relic, placing it gently into a secure box. Rex’s face darkened instantly. “Dean Sullivan! You call in a few thugs and think you can scare me? You forget who’s backing me?” Tia puffed out her chest. “Rex and I land all those major contracts because he has a big-shot backer! The man’s name would make you faint! Apologize now, and we might still forgive you!” I gave them a look of pure contempt. “You mean the CEO of Aethel Biotech, right? The one who funneled ninety percent of their contracts your way these past few years? How else do you think a mediocre pair like you could run a company?” Rex and Tia stared, their shock undisguised. They hadn’t expected me to know the puppet master. Tia quickly recovered, raising her chin defiantly. “So you know! Good! Now kowtow to my son, or I’ll make sure you can’t get a job in this entire city!” The agent on the recovery team called back. “Dr. Sullivan, the drive is secure. Data intact.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thank you. Please have the contents of my study delivered to my office…” I didn’t finish the sentence. Tia suddenly lunged and smacked the phone out of my hand. She stood, hands on her hips, screeching. “You want your things? Forget it! You’re not taking a single thing—not even a pin!” My patience snapped. I pulled the hospital phone off the wall and called security. “Inpatient Room 502. Send guards immediately. Clear out all non-essential personnel.” Rex glared at me, slamming his hand on the bedside table. “Hey! I’d like to see who in this city has the guts to challenge me!” He spun to his entourage of lawyers and muscle. “Take him out! Cripple Dean Sullivan! Double pay for everyone this month!” The thugs instantly surrounded us, fists aimed directly at my face. I tightened my grip on Owen, and slammed my elbow into the jaw of the guy who charged first. At the same moment, the hospital security guards burst in, joining the chaos. The room erupted into a brawl. IV poles crashed, and the bedside table overturned. My arms locked around Owen, shielding him. I spotted a gap toward the door, but Rex suddenly grabbed a shard of broken glass and lunged at my son’s body. “Die, you piece of trash!” I kicked him hard in the gut. He screamed, stumbling backward into the wall. Just then, another wave of men surged into the room—a team of black-suited security professionals. Rex’s eyes lit up when he saw the lead man. He rushed forward, a sickeningly ingratiating smile plastered on his face. “Mr. Rhodes! You’re here for me, right? Did the CEO of Aethel finally agree to that dinner? I’ve been waiting for days…” Mr. Rhodes walked right past him. He stopped directly in front of me, his voice deferential. “Dr. Sullivan. My apologies for the delay. I hope you and the young master haven’t suffered too much.”

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I meticulously cultivated my Princess Sissy Roses, only to have a popular B-list celebrity tear them all up for her reality show. Her tone was sickeningly innocent. “These flowers are so pretty, they should be made into crowns. Their owner really doesn’t know how to use them.” “Let me help them fulfill their true purpose.” In the variety show, she flashed a bright smile, showing off her new flower crown to her fans. Afterward, she refused to apologize and even led her fans in cyberbullying me. Looking at my chaotic, trampled garden, I smiled too. “This garden is insured for $15 million.” “According to the contract, you owe me $150 million!” Chapter 1 I was woken up by the blaring alarm of my security cameras. I threw on a robe and groggily walked outside. My cottage is secluded. I rarely get visitors, and with a locked gate, who would be trespassing at the crack of dawn? The yard was swarming with people. At least a dozen strangers had surrounded my little sanctuary. My front gate, which I had beautifully woven with flowering vines, had been ripped open. Vines were torn and discarded on the ground. The wooden gate hung crookedly off its hinges. My meticulously arranged flower beds had been trampled, a muddy path stomped right through the middle. Burly cameramen were pointing their lenses at a girl standing in the center of my ruined garden. She was undeniably pretty, basking in the spotlight. She casually plucked a few more blooms, weaving a flower crown. “Babies, look at this crown! Doesn’t it suit me perfectly?” “It’s a shame there’s only one type of flower. If there were others to mix in, it would be even prettier.” She smiled brightly, dimples showing. I recognized her. It was Bella Rose, the current “It Girl” of reality TV. I was actually watching her latest drama. Online, she had a reputation for being gentle, kind, and down-to-earth. A real-life fairy. I used to like her. I never expected my first real-life encounter with her to look like this. Looking at the crown on her head and my devastated garden, my anger flared. “Who are you people? Who gave you permission to come in here?” The production crew seemed surprised someone actually lived here. The director stepped forward, explaining, “We’re with the production team. Just shooting a quick segment.” “Can’t you see this is private property? You broke my gate to get in!” Bella took off her flower crown. “It’s just some flowers. Here, take them back.” She held the crown out to me. I didn’t move. Seeing my refusal, Bella threw the crown on the ground in a huff. She looked me up and down with disdain. “Here’s five hundred bucks. That should cover what a country bumpkin’s flowers are worth.” Her assistant pulled out five hundred dollars and threw it at my feet. “Take the money and leave. Don’t disturb Bella’s shoot.” The crew moved to shoo me away, assistants forming a wall with blockers. Country bumpkin? I almost laughed. Sure, I ran out in my pajamas with bedhead, but I am far from a “country bumpkin.” Trespassing, vandalism, and now trying to pay me off like I’m a beggar? The audacity is truly breathtaking. Chapter 2 Honestly, I just wanted a sincere apology. If they had been decent, I might have let it slide. But with this attitude? The gloves are off. “What show is this?” The director, thinking I was backing down, softened his tone. “Miss, we’re filming Country Bliss. We saw how beautiful this cottage was and just wanted to capture some shots.” I sneered. “Just wanted to capture some shots? So that gives you the right to break and enter?” The director looked around, realizing they were in the wrong. “Look, how much compensation do you think is appropriate?” I chuckled. “How much? I’m afraid you can’t afford it.” These weren’t just any roses. They were the world-renowned Juliet Roses, often called the “£3 million rose.” Juliet Roses are notoriously difficult to grow. I spent a fortune and countless hours cultivating them. And, I insured the garden for $15 million. Bella, resting on the sidelines, cut in impatiently. “Director, why waste breath on a villager? She just thinks five hundred isn’t enough. Give her two grand and be done with it.” I walked up to Bella and slapped her across the face. “Villager? Aren’t your ancestors from the countryside too?” My move was so sudden, even her assistant didn’t react in time. Five red fingerprints bloomed on her cheek. Bella clutched her face, tears springing to her eyes. “You dare hit me?! I’ll kill you!” She lunged at me. I side-stepped. Momentum carried her forward, and she face-planted into the dirt. Her assistants finally snapped out of it and rushed to help her up. “What are you standing there for?! Beat her up!” Bella, hands on hips, screeched at her staff like a banshee. “Useless idiots! Get her!” I shook my head. This shrew behavior… where did the “human fairy” go? The assistants charged. I didn’t flinch. Taekwondo and kickboxing lessons weren’t for show. A few goons? Please. “Stop!” The director suddenly shouted, halting the assistants. He whispered something in Bella’s ear. The crew started packing up to leave. Before going, Bella glared at me venomously. “You bitch, just you wait!” I glared back. We’ll see who’s waiting. 3 That afternoon, while I was sipping coffee, my assistant called. “Boss, you’re trending!” “Send it over.” My assistant, Leo, sent a link. It was a video posted by the show’s official account. Heavily edited. It only showed me storming out, the director explaining politely, Bella offering the crown, her assistant offering money, and finally, me refusing the cash and slapping Bella. The video ended with a freeze-frame of Bella clutching her face, a single tear rolling down. Twenty minutes in, it was the #1 trending topic. Hundreds of thousands of comments. [Who is this Karen? How dare she hit our Bella! Dox her!] [Look at that handprint. My heart is breaking for Bella.] [Bella is so pitiful. Why didn’t the staff stop her?] [Useless crew! Protect our queen!] [Hit her back! Beat her ass!] [Someone find her address. I’m going to teach this bitch a lesson for Bella!] [Wait, isn’t the crew in the wrong here? That’s private property.] [Yeah, the yard looks trashed. The owner probably got mad because they wrecked her stuff.] [Bella’s comment was kinda passive-aggressive though…] [To the person above, our Bella using those country flowers is doing them a favor!] [Off topic, but the crazy lady is actually kinda hot even with messy hair.] […] There were a few sensible comments, but they were quickly drowned out by the fan mob. Bella posted a selfie on Weibo: [Thanks for the concern, babies. I’m okay.] The photo showed a faint red mark on her face. The comments were a flood of sympathy for her and vitriol for me. I closed the app. Edited videos are boring. The raw footage is where the fun is. The crew didn’t know my cottage is rigged with hidden cameras. Their little break-in was recorded in 4K. 4 That night, I uploaded the unedited footage. I had Leo put $15,000 into promoting it to ensure it hit the prime-time feed. Marketing accounts picked it up instantly. By the time Bella’s PR team realized what was happening, it was too late. The comments section did a 180. [Plot twist! Bella is actually like this in private? Unfollowing.] [The production team is trash. Breaking and entering and acting like they own the place?] [They ruined such a beautiful garden. I’d be pissed too.] [Team Crazy Lady. The crew and Bella are shameless.] [That slap was satisfying. Queen behavior.] [But there was no “No Trespassing” sign. They probably didn’t know.] [Exactly. Using the location is free publicity. She should be paying Bella for the exposure!] [Bella even gave her $500. That’s more than enough for some wild flowers. She’s just greedy.] I scoffed at the comments. Publicity? Exposure? The dog really does take after its master. Shameless. Suddenly, shouting erupted outside. “Bitch! Come out!” “Come out here! How dare you set me up and post that video!” I walked to the gate. Three people stood there: Bella, the assistant who threw money at me, and a man I assumed was her manager. Bella was kicking my gate. Seeing me, she screamed, “You cheap bitch!” “Miss Rose, there are cameras here too. Want another viral video?” “You…” Bella glared but stopped kicking. “Miss, Bella was impulsive today. Can we come in and talk?” The manager asked. “No need. Say it here.” “We want to discuss compensation and deleting the video.” The manager slid a contract through the gate. “Take a look.” I flipped through it. They offered $15,000. In exchange, I delete the video and issue a statement saying I’m not the owner, just a friend watching the house, and that the owner had actually given permission. “This $15,000 is for your trouble. If you’re not satisfied, we can offer you a job on the crew,” the manager said, holding out a stack of cash. “I can delete the video, but I won’t lie. And Bella needs to apologize to me.” I tapped the cash against my palm. “Why should I apologize to you?!” Bella shrieked. “So you’re not sorry? Then no deal.” I threw the cash back at Bella. The bills fluttered around her furious face. “Bye.” “Bella, apologize!” The manager barked. “Wait. I don’t want an apology anymore. We’re done here.” I cut her off. “Don’t be ungrateful! Do you know who my backer is? My boyfriend is the heir to the Lin Group!” “Lin Chen?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Thinking I was scared, Bella smirked. “Yeah. Scared now? Kneel and apologize, then delete the video, or I’ll make sure you never work in this town again!” “I’m shaking. Let’s see who ends up jobless.” I turned and walked back inside, ignoring her screaming. Lin Chen’s girlfriend? She probably doesn’t know Lin Chen is my…

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My parents are in a business marriage. Zero love, all assets. My mom makes out with her boy toys right in front of my dad. My dad openly photoshops his “one that got away” into our family portraits and uses it as his lock screen. They didn’t divorce because they wanted to give me a “complete home.” But recently, the wind changed. Dad’s “one that got away” came back from overseas. Mom’s “dead” first love turned out to be alive. They started talking divorce. But they both decided to fight to the death for custody of me. In court, my mom pulled out a knife, threatening to remove her own uterus right there on the stand. My dad pulled out a pair of scissors, threatening to castrate himself. Their love for me is truly… moving. 1 When my Grandma caught us, I was reading a graphic novel on the couch, and my Mom was playing tonsil hockey with her new boy toy. Grandma was so mad she immediately called my Dad to come over. Mom didn’t care at all. She continued flirting with the fresh meat. I call the new guy Uncle Kyle. When I got tired of reading, Uncle Kyle read to me. Grandma was standing there, cursing my Mom out. She called her shameless, asked her what the Sterling family ever did to her. 2 Mom wasn’t backing down. She put her hands on her hips, ready to scream back. Grandma cut her off: “Save it for when my son gets here. You two are divorcing today!” Mom rolled her eyes. “Good luck getting your son to divorce me.” My parents are a corporate merger. When they got married, both families were at the top of the food chain. But soon after, my Grandpa’s business went belly up. There were a million reasons why. Mom has wanted to divorce Dad forever. They both love other people. Dad loves a poor college student he considers his “White Moonlight”—the pure, unattainable love. He photoshops her into photos of him and me. Originally, he just Photoshopped her over Mom in photos of the three of us. But I threw a fit. I didn’t allow a photo without my Mom. So now, he Photoshops her standing next to us. 3 Mom loves a poor college guy too. They were first loves. But that guy joined the military, went on a spec-ops mission, and “died.” So Mom only dates college boys now. I know she’s mourning her first love. My parents are very sentimental people. Dad arrived quickly. He rushed over, picked me up, kissed my cheeks, and called me his precious “Muffin.” I was happy too. I hugged him and asked for a piggyback ride. Grandma immediately started in: “Richard, your wife isn’t even hiding her cheating anymore! You have to divorce her! If you don’t have shame, I do!” Dad looked furious: “Victoria, are you crazy? Cuckolding me in broad daylight!” Mom rolled her eyes again. “He’s our daughter’s manny.” Dad’s attitude flipped instantly. He nodded at Uncle Kyle. “Thanks for your hard work. Take good care of Muffin. I’ll give you a raise.” Grandma almost had a stroke. “Richard Sterling! I want you to divorce her!” Dad looked pained. “Mom, if I divorce her, she’ll steal my daughter!” Mom scoffed. “She’s my daughter. Why would I give her to you?” “She’s mine too!” “Bullsh*t! She came out of my body!” “Don’t give me that biology crap. Since she was born, I’m the one who raised her! I changed the diapers! Now that she can run and talk, you want to claim the credit? And look how you raise her—hiring playmates? Is that how a mother acts?” Mom fired back: “Ha! You’re so great, you raise her then! If you actually spent time with her, would I need to hire a manny? You’re all talk.” 4 I looked at Dad, then at Mom. I was about to tell them to stop fighting. But their phones rang at the exact same time. I saw the Caller ID on Dad’s phone: Vivian. “Richard, I’m back in the states. Can you pick me up at JFK?” Vivian. Dad’s White Moonlight. His eternal heartache. Dad lost his voice. On the other side, Mom suddenly choked up: “Cole… you’re not dead?!” Cole. My Mom’s first love. Every Memorial Day, Mom makes me yell “Daddy” at his tombstone. Mom’s logic was that Uncle Cole died childless, so he had no one to burn offerings for him. I had to pretend to be his kid so he’d have spending money in the afterlife. 5 The silence was deafening. My parents looked at each other, then tactically looked away. I said, “Mom, Dad, I’m hungry.” Grandma was livid. She cursed Dad, saying she should have given birth to a BBQ pork bun instead of him. Grandma swore they had to divorce. They took me to dinner first. Uncle Kyle took care of me on the side. He breathed quietly, smiled apologetically at Dad, bowed to Mom, and catered to my every need. At the table, I was the only one eating. My parents were on their phones—sighing, looking sad, then looking conflicted. I knew they were reminiscing about their lost loves. I felt a little bad for them. 6 After eating, the food coma hit, and I fell asleep. I felt Dad pick me up, and I slept soundly in his arms. I woke up in the afternoon. I yawned, climbed out of bed, drank a big glass of water, and went downstairs. Downstairs, my parents were negotiating the divorce. Dad said, “Vivian is back. I have to give her a home.” Mom didn’t mock him this time. She looked sorrowful. “Cole isn’t dead. He was deep undercover all these years. He survived because of his love for me. I can’t let him down.” They spoke in unison: “The daughter…” Then silence. Dad spoke first: “I’ll give you half my personal assets. You keep all the joint marital assets. You leave Muffin with me. You’re young, you can have another one.” Mom said: “I’ll leave with nothing. I’ll pay you $30k a month in alimony. Give me Muffin.” Both of them sneered at the same time: “Keep dreaming! Scumbag!” 7 The vibe in the house shifted. Before, they wanted a divorce. Mom would kiss a boy toy, Dad would scream divorce. Dad would cry over his photoshop collection, apologize to “Vivian,” and Mom would scream divorce. But they always stopped when it came to custody. They knew the other person was trash. No compromise possible. Now, they were raising the stakes, desperate to divorce and keep me.

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When my husband asked for a divorce, his mistress was already showing. That night, working late and alone, I couldn’t stop myself from wailing like a banshee for my dead marriage. Unexpectedly, my caterwauling caught the attention of the CEO. He appeared, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, carrying a container of still-warm shrimp dumplings. His eyes were surprisingly gentle. It was the dead of night. A man and a woman, all alone. In a moment of self-destructive abandon, I thought, Well, winter is coming. Time to give my husband a taste of his own medicine. But then the CEO handed me a tissue and, after a bit of awkward preamble, I finally understood. He wasn’t interested in me. He was interested in my scumbag husband. My sobs died in my throat. My mind started racing. My husband with another woman? I lose my appetite. My husband with another man? Hell, I’d even pop some popcorn and watch them cook. 1 The only sound in the empty office was me, howling and sniffling. Every time I thought about the divorce papers, a bitter knot tightened in my chest. They say there’s a seven-year itch. Mine got restless in five. He had a case of the wanderlust so bad even a prescription-strength cream couldn’t cure it. Yes, my husband, Mark, had found a mistress. Her name was Lily, and with a bun in the oven, she was planning on leveraging that pregnancy for all it was worth. And Mark, my dear husband, was dead set on divorcing me to marry her. All in the name of “following his heart and giving his child a proper family.” What a load of crap. Wasn’t it “true love” when he married me, too? Sure, our passion had thinned to the consistency of tissue paper over the years, but we were a financial unit. I figured we could coast for a few more years. Unfortunately, that paper had finally torn. And my grand life plan of coasting on my husband’s salary had crashed and burned right along with it. Life had been sweet with access to two paychecks. Now, with our assets split, how long could a “lazy freeloader” like me last? My fine-tuned skills of leisure would turn a mountain of gold into a molehill in no time. At that thought, a fresh wave of sobs escaped me. Between wails, I mentally cursed my heartless boss. My own career was already on life support. Just last week, he’d ripped my latest project proposal to shreds, metaphorically dumping a bucket of pig’s blood on my head. It was like he’d sprinkled industrial-grade chili powder on my already wounded soul. “What’s with all the crying? It’s the middle of the night.” A deep, slightly impatient male voice sounded from above me. I jolted, looking up with a start. Through my tear-blurred vision, I saw him: my boss, standing right beside my desk. In his hand was a takeout container with the logo of “Silver Palace”—my favorite place for dumplings. He placed the container on my desk. “Eat something. Stop crying.” I choked back a sob and opened the box. A cloud of steam and the savory scent of shrimp dumplings rose to meet me, which only made the tears flow faster. As I nibbled on a dumpling, I snuck glances at him. Uriah Thorne was the company’s founder. Young, brilliant, and utterly ruthless. In our industry, he was known as the Devil Incarnate. He was usually stricter with us than a wicked stepfather. What was happening tonight? Not only was he not scolding me for disrupting the office’s pristine silence, but he’d brought me food? Could it be… he saw that my marriage was failing, that I was vulnerable… and he wanted to take advantage? A quid pro quo situation? The thought was so shocking it startled me. But then again… was it really so bad? Mark had already cheated on me. Why shouldn’t I return the favor? Just as my internal drama reached the climax where Uriah and I teamed up to crush Mark, forcing him and his mistress to their knees to beg for mercy, my boss’s cold voice cut through my fantasy. “That woman, Lily. She’s the one who wrecked your marriage?” I choked on my dumpling and nodded miserably. “I hear she’s basically taking a dump on your head?” It was crude, but coming from him, it sounded like a strange, cold form of empathy. I nodded again, more forcefully this time. “I see,” he said slowly, his long fingers tapping a rhythm on my desk. “So, do you want to… take a bigger one on hers?” I…!!! The half-chewed dumpling nearly shot out of my mouth. What? Did I hear him right? My boss was so offended on my behalf that he was going to personally step in and help me get revenge? Revenge was all I needed to hear! I dropped my chopsticks, my eyes wide. “Yes! Absolutely! A massive one, boss! Super-sized, with extra toppings!” 2 A second later, he delivered the punchline. “I want your husband. You help me get him, and you’ll get back at the mistress. It’s a win-win.” His words hit me like a lightning strike. My eyes widened, my mouth hanging open. “What? You… you want to get my husband… into your… bed?” I wondered if I’d cried so hard I was hallucinating. Or maybe my boss had eaten one too many expired snacks. “Mr. Thorne… are you feeling alright?” There wasn’t a trace of embarrassment on his face. Instead, he shifted into full-on business negotiation mode. “I’m perfectly fine. And perfectly clear. Also, for the record, I’m a top.” I… That was too much information. My brain was overheating. Ignoring my petrified state, he strode over to the office whiteboard and expertly drew a mind map. “Let’s conduct a rational analysis of your current situation.” On the board, a logic diagram with “Mark” at its center took shape. “First, the marriage. The mistress is five months pregnant, and your husband is resolute. This divorce is happening. It’s just a matter of when and how much you get.” “Second, your financial status. Even with a 50/50 split of the condo and one car each, your monthly salary is $3,500 after taxes. Subtract your $500 car payment, and you’re left with $3,000. Given the cost of living in this city, assuming no major illnesses, no new clothes, and zero entertainment, you’ll be barely surviving.” The cold, hard numbers were a slap in the face. I could already picture myself eating instant noodles and living on the poverty line. “Therefore,” he concluded, “if you refuse my proposal, you’re not just facing a personal life collapse, but likely unemployment. With my influence in this industry, it would not be difficult to ensure you don’t find a suitable job for some time. At which point, you won’t even have that $3,500 to fall back on.” I sucked in a sharp breath. This was a threat, plain and simple. “However,” his tone shifted, dangling the bait, “if you choose to cooperate, we become allies. Our goals are aligned. I get the man I want, and you… you get your dignity back.” I cut him off. “Wait! Dignity? Boss, is dignity all I get?” After that brutal financial analysis, my priorities were crystal clear. He seemed to have anticipated this. “Of course not. When this is done, I’ll give you a one-million-dollar bonus.” “One million dollars?!” I grabbed the calculator from my desk, my fingers trembling as I punched in the numbers: 1,000,000 ÷ 3,500 ÷ 12 ≈ 23.8. That was almost twenty-four years of my current salary! Paid in advance! He continued, sweetening the deal. “In addition, I’ll have the company’s top project director personally mentor you. You’ll gain new skills and become an essential part of the team in the shortest possible time. Which means, even without the million, you’ll be able to build a very comfortable life for yourself.” Oh, my God. This wasn’t kicking me while I was down. This was a winning lottery ticket falling from the heavens. A Michelin-starred, solid gold lottery ticket. He must really, really be in love… with my husband. So in love that he’d resort to threats and bribery, personally crafting a “husband-snatching” strategy. The scales in my mind tipped dramatically. Mark’s betrayal, Lily’s arrogance, my bleak future… compared to the very real pile of money, career advancement, and this bizarre but promising new path? They were nothing. He cheated on me with a woman. So what was wrong with me introducing him to a powerful, successful man? It was perfectly reasonable! This was a public service! I was helping him explore new, exciting horizons! “Boss,” I declared, my voice ringing with newfound purpose. “From this day forward, I am your dedicated strategist. I will do everything in my power to… uh… clear the way for you to secure your target!” Uriah Thorne looked at my impassioned face and gave a slight, satisfied nod. “Excellent. A pleasure doing business with you.” 3 First things first, we had to handle the divorce. Mark arrived with Lily attached to his arm like a permanent accessory. Her slightly rounded belly was her badge of honor. I tried to keep my voice steady, even a little nostalgic. “Mark, do you remember when we first moved in here? We didn’t even have a proper table. We ate instant noodles sitting on cardboard boxes, and you promised you’d give me a good life one day…” I slowly recounted the memories we’d shared, my eyes locked on his face, searching for any flicker of emotion. If he had even an ounce of heart left, a shred of guilt, then maybe… maybe my plans would have been different. Maybe his… assets… could have been spared. But I was disappointed. His eyes were filled with nothing but impatience. He cut me off. “Let’s not talk about the past. I’m here to discuss the terms of the divorce.” The tiny, flickering flame of hope in my heart sputtered and died. Fine. This just made what I had to do next that much easier. I lowered my head, my shoulders trembling slightly, my eyes red-rimmed. “Okay, I get it. I was hoping for too much. But you’re the one who wronged me, aren’t you?” “Look, I’m up for a promotion at work, and my boss puts a lot of stock in his employees having stable family lives. The company’s annual gala is next week. Mark, for old times’ sake, can you do me one last favor and come with me? Just show your face. If you do that, I’ll sign the papers the very next day. No more fighting.” This combination of retreat, vulnerability, and mutual benefit made Mark hesitate. But Lily was on high alert. “No way!” she snapped. “Who knows what you’re planning! What if you try to get back with him?” Her eyes darted around, and she came up with an even crueler demand. “If you want him to go, fine. But you have to give back all the designer bags and jewelry Mark ever bought you! Consider it a security deposit on your character!” I put on a show of distress. “But those were gifts! He gave them to me! They’re mine!” “Gave them? Or you wheedled them out of him?” The standoff was tense. My chest heaved with manufactured rage. “I need to use the restroom to calm down!” As soon as I locked the bathroom door, I whipped out my phone. “Boss, the mistress is demanding I give back all the luxury items Mark bought me before she’ll let him attend the gala. I’m refusing, we’re at a stalemate.” Uriah replied almost instantly: “How much are they worth?” I thought for a moment. “Probably around $30,000.” My phone buzzed. A bank notification: an incoming transfer of $50,000. Another message from Uriah followed: “Stop wasting time. Stick to the plan.” Seeing that number, a wave of calm washed over me. I rubbed my eyes in the mirror until they were satisfyingly red, then walked back out with an expression of pained resignation. “I’ve thought it over. I’m serious about becoming an independent woman. These material things… I don’t need them!” Under Lily’s suspicious and Mark’s surprised gazes, I opened my safe and piled the designer bags and jewelry boxes on the bed. “It’s all here.” Lily inspected the items like a pawnbroker, a triumphant smirk spreading across her face once she confirmed they were real. “Since you’re being so sensible, Mark, I guess you can go with her.” Then she turned to Mark, her voice dripping with possessiveness. “But during the gala, you have to reply to my texts instantly! And video call me to show me where you are and who you’re with! You hear me?” Mark nodded eagerly, the picture of obedience. 4 The night before the gala, Uriah summoned me to his office. “What brand of cologne does Mark usually wear?” he asked. I blinked, caught off guard. “…Terre d’Hermès. He’s worn it for years.” “And his drink of choice?” “Single malt scotch. He thinks it’s masculine.” As I answered, I couldn’t help but marvel at the level of detail in his research. His next questions were even more jaw-dropping. He quizzed me on everything from Mark’s preferred clothing style and hobbies all the way to the most intimate details of our… private life. Uriah asked the questions without a flicker of emotion, a true scholar in his field. I gritted my teeth and reported the facts as objectively as I could. When it was over, I couldn’t resist asking. “Boss, if you don’t mind my asking… what is it you see in him?” Uriah slowly lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled a plume of smoke. “The front may be used,” he said calmly, “but the back is brand new.” I… Rich people, I swear. They have a special kind of audacity. He didn’t just not see me as a woman. He didn’t even see me as a person. He flicked some ash into an ashtray. “Liking someone is a feeling. A vibe. If it feels right, it’s right. You wouldn’t understand.” I certainly did not. But for the money and my career, I chose to respect the boss’s vibe. After the interrogation, he called the project director into his office. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be mentoring her personally. I want her up to speed in the shortest time possible.” I was ecstatic. My career was about to take off! The night of the gala went exactly as planned. Under the guise of “mingling with the common folk,” Uriah sat at the table with Mark and me. He had toned down his usual Devil Incarnate aura and was the picture of a charming, attentive gentleman. He was witty, knowledgeable, and could talk to Mark about everything from macroeconomics to football. Mark, initially reserved, quickly loosened up under Uriah’s calculated flattery. The two of them were soon chatting away like old friends. But the pleasant atmosphere didn’t last. Lily’s check-in texts started arriving like clockwork, every fifteen minutes, the vibration of Mark’s phone a constant, nagging reminder. Uriah’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He discreetly sent me a transfer under the table. My phone buzzed. A peer-to-peer payment of $2,000. The note read: Make her stop. I got the message. I slipped away and sent Lily a short video of the two men talking, then called her, my voice a low threat. “My boss is very impressed with Mark and is discussing a potential partnership. This is directly tied to my promotion and his performance bonus. If you keep this up and piss off my boss, I swear, I will not sign those divorce papers. I will drag this out until you both rot.” She cursed me out, but as I’d hoped, she stopped bothering Mark. Because she started bombarding me instead. Washed-up hag. Scheming bitch. You deserve to be dumped. The messages were vile, one after another. I was shaking with rage. The wine I’d been drinking churned in my stomach. Why? Why did they get to be so self-righteous about their affair while I, the victim, had to endure this humiliation? A dark impulse took over. While Uriah had Mark’s attention again, my hand “slipped,” and I tipped a small packet of powder into Mark’s drink. He didn’t notice a thing, laughing with Uriah as he drained the glass. Not long after, Mark’s eyes glazed over, and he slumped back in his chair. Uriah immediately feigned concern. “Mr. Stevens, are you feeling alright? You’ve had a bit too much to drink. Our company has a corporate suite at this hotel. Why don’t you stay the night? The company will cover it.” A woozy Mark had no objections, and I played my part. “Thank you, boss.” Uriah helped Mark to his feet, and I followed them out. As we neared the suite, Uriah gave me a look that screamed Get lost. I understood. I got lost.

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At a high-level executive meeting, Ethan Fu’s newly hired assistant threw a whole cup of bubble tea in my face. “You, the slacker who just hides in the office playing video games all day, dare to question my proposal?” “I hereby announce you’re fired. Get out!” I calmly stood up, wiped the liquid from my face, and looked at Ethan Fu. He frowned, deliberately avoiding my gaze, choosing silence. I smiled, pulled out my phone. “Dad, did you hear that?” “They told me to scram.” Chapter 1 1 It was Monday, and I was deep in a gaming session when the office door suddenly knocked. “Ms. Lynn, Assistant Winnie is calling all managers to the main conference room in ten minutes.” Jess, from Administration, stood at the doorway, sounding rushed. I didn’t look up, my fingers flying over the keyboard. “Nope. Not going. No time.” In the six months since I joined the company, I hadn’t attended a single meeting. Not because I didn’t have to, but because I didn’t want to. “But…” Jess hesitated. “Assistant Winnie specifically said no one can be absent today. She said it was Mr. Fu’s order.” My fingers paused. My game character was instantly killed by the BOSS. As the screen went gray, I cursed silently and closed my laptop. When I arrived at the conference room, it was already packed. Several people gave me strange looks, whispering to each other. “Why is Manager Lynn here?” “Doesn’t she skip every meeting?” “Who knows? Assistant Winnie must have insisted.” “Winnie’s always been picking fights with her. I bet there’s drama today.” … I ignored the gossip, picked the seat furthest in the corner, and pulled out my phone to continue the game. Ethan Fu and Winnie Mian-mian finally arrived thirty minutes late. Winnie was clutching a stack of files, a smug, satisfied smile on her face. “Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend this meeting.” Ethan Fu scanned the room. His gaze landed on me for less than a second before moving on. “Today, Assistant Winnie has an important proposal to announce to everyone.” Winnie cleared her throat and began droning on about her “revolutionary” marketing plan. I played my game, half-listening, and the more I heard, the more ridiculous it sounded. The budget was insane, and the plan didn’t match our company’s market positioning at all. “…Therefore, I believe we should immediately invest eighty million dollars to dominate the high-end market in three months!” Winnie concluded passionately. A sparse round of applause filled the room. I couldn’t hold back. Without looking up from my phone, I said, “Spending eighty million on meaningless exposure? You might as well throw the money off the company roof. That would generate more buzz and traffic.” The conference room went silent. Ethan Fu frowned. “What did you say?” Winnie’s voice spiked. I finally looked up and said slowly. “I said your plan is full of holes.” “First, the target customer group is wrong.” “Second, the distribution channel is inappropriate.” “Finally, the ROI calculation method is fundamentally flawed.” “That twenty million you plan to spend is basically flushing cash down the toilet.” “No, wait. Flushing cash makes a noise, at least.” Winnie’s face turned scarlet. She grabbed the bubble tea on the table and rushed over to me. “You, the slacker who just hides in the office playing video games all day, dare to question my proposal?” She practically screamed it. Then. Splash! The entire cup of bubble tea hit my face. The liquid streamed down my cheeks, staining my white dress brown. The conference room was dead silent. Everyone held their breath. “Skye Lin! I, as the CEO’s assistant, announce you are fired! Get out!” Chapter 2 2 Winnie looked down at me from above. I slowly stood up, pulled out a handkerchief, and methodically wiped the mess from my face. Then I looked at Ethan Fu. He frowned, then avoided my gaze, choosing silence. I suddenly smiled. I spoke into my phone, which was on speakerphone: “Dad, did you hear that?” “They told me to scram.” The other end was silent for two seconds. Then a low, powerful voice answered. “Got it. I’ll make the arrangements.” The reason I took this job was entirely because of a marriage contract signed by my grandfather. Ethan Fu was my fiancé. I hate arranged marriages, but my dad guilt-tripped me, practically using filial piety as a weapon. I had no choice but to agree. To deepen our relationship, my dad insisted I join Fu Corp. In the six months I worked for my fiancé, even though I played games all day, looking like a total slacker. Behind the scenes, I was leveraging my own resources to make the company’s performance soar, even pushing for its IPO. Fu Corp became a star company overnight, and Ethan Fu made the city’s rich list. Despite helping him immensely, we rarely talked. In our few mandatory dates, I learned that he only knew I was his arranged fiancée. He had no idea who I truly was. …… I sat back down in my chair, picked up my phone, and resumed the game that was interrupted. My fingers flew across the screen. I acted as if the tension in the conference room had nothing to do with me. Winnie’s face went from red to green. She clearly didn’t expect me to ignore her authority. She slammed her hand on the table. Her voice was sharp. “Skye Lin! What do you think this is?” “Everyone here is focused on the meeting, and you’re playing a game?” I sneered, “I’ve already hit my annual performance goal. Why can’t I play a game?” “If you don’t get out now, I’m calling security!” I didn’t even look up. “Go ahead.” The other executives exchanged uneasy glances. Some pretended to check files; others secretly watched Ethan Fu, waiting for his reaction. Ethan Fu finally stood up. He was dressed in a sharp black suit. His expression was cold and stern. He looked at me, his eyes filled with impatience and indifference. “Skye Lin, your performance is good.” His voice was calm but carried undeniable authority. “But this is the company, not your home.” “Please leave the conference room immediately and stop disrupting the meeting.” My fingers paused. My character died again. I looked up, met his gaze, and curved my lips into a playful smile. “Mr. Fu, are you sure you want to kick me out?” Ethan Fu frowned, his tone even colder. “I won’t repeat myself. If you have any professional ethics, you should know where the line is.” “What if I don’t want to leave?” “Then don’t blame me for being ruthless.” Seeing Ethan Fu on her side, Winnie grew bolder. She rushed over and slapped my phone from my hand. “Smash!” The phone hit the floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb pattern. “Skye Lin, stop pushing your luck!” She grabbed my collar and yanked me up. “Mr. Fu told you to leave. What are you doing still sitting here? Get out!” From the day she became the assistant, Winnie had hated me. Once, when I passed the CEO’s office, I heard her pontificating, “Mr. Fu, the company isn’t a charity. It’s unfair to the other employees to spend so much money on a slacker who just plays games all day.” Her voice was low, but loud enough for me to hear outside. Ethan Fu didn’t reply. But through the window, I saw him pause while flipping a file. After that, Winnie only got worse. She started “casually” mentioning my “great achievements” in department meetings. “Some people get a huge salary but don’t even attend meetings. I wonder if they’re here to work or on vacation.” Gossip about me spread through the company. Some said I was a spoiled rich girl who used connections. Others said I slept in my office all day. Some even started betting on when I’d be fired. I knew all of it. I just didn’t care. Chapter 3 3 But the more I ignored her, the more entitled she became. This time, she seized the opportunity and acted completely unhinged. I wasn’t going to tolerate it. I grabbed her wrist and twisted hard. “Ah!” Winnie cried out in pain and instinctively released my collar. As she pulled away, her arm slammed into the edge of the conference table. Her expensive watch hit the solid wood with a sharp clink. She stumbled back, looked down, and her face went white. The face of her pricey Patek Philippe watch had a clear scratch, glaring under the light. “You… you…” She raised her trembling wrist, her eyes blazing with fury. “Skye Lin, do you know how much this watch is?” “It was a birthday gift from Mr. Fu! It cost eight hundred thousand dollars!” I slowly straightened my wrinkled collar. “You stumbled. Whose fault is that?” “Skye Lin!” Ethan Fu finally roared. “That’s enough!” “You’re disrupting the meeting, and now you’ve deliberately damaged someone else’s property.” “As the CEO, I officially inform you that you are fired.” “Now, collect your things and leave the company immediately!” Winnie screamed, “Mr. Fu, don’t let her off the hook! She has to pay for the watch!” The conference room was silent. Everyone looked at me with pity or schadenfreude, waiting for the show to begin. “Fine, I’ll pay.” “Eight hundred thousand, right?” I bent down to pick up my broken phone. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. I dialed a number, about to speak, when Winnie sneered, “Eight hundred thousand? It’s eight million!” I paused and looked at her. “Are you sure?” “I’m absolutely sure!” Winnie said haughtily. “A gift from Mr. Fu is priceless! Saying eight million is already letting you off easy!” “Tell everyone I’m right!” Winnie was determined to pin this on me. She knew my salary couldn’t cover that. She just wanted to humiliate me. The other executives chimed in immediately. “Yes, how can you put a price on a gift from Mr. Fu?” The finance director adjusted his glasses. “Manager Lynn, you should just admit your fault.” “The company isn’t a charity. If you break something, you pay for it.” The marketing director scoffed. “But with Manager Lynn’s salary, she’ll be paying until retirement, right?” Everyone laughed, their eyes full of mockery. They had always disliked me, the slacker. Now that I was in trouble, they were happy to kick me down. Ethan Fu stood by, frowning, but didn’t stop them. I ignored their sarcasm and looked up at Winnie. “Eight million. You won’t add any more zeros, right?” Winnie froze, then sneered. “Skye Lin, why are you pretending? You’re broke!” “You make barely anything. How are you going to pay eight million?” I ignored her, picking up my phone. “Prepare eight million in cash and deliver it to the Fu Corp conference room. ASAP.” Winnie looked disdainful. “Tch. Who are you trying to fool? You think you can call someone and magically get cash?” I didn’t answer, just waited quietly. Less than ten minutes later, the conference room door opened. A man in a sharp suit walked in. Behind him were three bank employees, each carrying a case. He walked straight to me and bowed respectfully: “Ms. Shen, here is the eight million you requested.” I nodded. “Thank you. Just put it here.” As the three cases were opened, the neatly stacked hundred-dollar bills shone under the lights. The conference room was silent. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the cash. The air seemed sucked out of the room. Even breathing was subdued. Winnie’s face was pale, and she couldn’t utter a single word. She stared hard at the cash, then looked up at the man in the suit. Suddenly, the finance director’s face went white. “Lu… President Lu?!” Chapter 4 4 Lu Ming-yuan, the CEO of the City Bank’s main branch. A powerful figure who was rarely seen. Even Ethan Fu’s grandfather would have trouble getting an audience. Yet, he was standing here, respectfully calling me “Ms. Shen.” Ethan Fu paused for a few seconds, then quickly stepped forward, offering his hand. “President Lu, why did you come personally?” “My grandfather often speaks of you. He would love to see you again.” Lu Ming-yuan didn’t even look at him. He simply nodded and addressed me. “Ms. Shen, if you need anything else, just say the word.” With that, he turned and left with his team. Quick and decisive, as if staying a second longer was a waste of time. Ethan Fu’s hand was frozen in mid-air. His face flushed with embarrassment. Winnie’s arrogance was long gone. Her legs were shaking. She was barely standing, her forehead covered in cold sweat. I slowly pulled a stack of bills from a case and gently patted her cheek. “Assistant Winnie, eight million. Not a penny less.” “Now, this watch is mine.” I ripped the Patek Philippe off her wrist and tossed it into the trash can in front of her. “You!” Winnie was livid. I turned to Ethan Fu and smiled faintly. “Mr. Fu, I paid for the watch.” “Now, let’s discuss compensation for my phone.” Winnie stared blankly, then sneered, as if I’d said the most hilarious thing. She crossed her arms, mockery in her tone. “How much could a Huawei possibly be worth?” I held up one finger. “It’s cheap, actually. Only about one hundred million dollars.” The room gasped, then burst into laughter. The marketing director dramatically slammed his hand on the table. “One hundred million? Manager Lynn, did the bubble tea fry your brain?” The finance director adjusted his glasses, mockingly serious. “According to company policy, damaged items are compensated at market price.” “Manager Shen, the market price for your phone is probably less than the interest on that sum.” Winnie was smug, seeing everyone agree with her. She walked up to me, smiling. “How about this? I’ll be generous and contact a psychiatric hospital for you.” “Delusions are a disease, after all. You need treatment.” Ethan Fu stood by, his brow furrowed, but remained silent. I remained calm amidst the mockery. “You’re right. A regular Huawei phone isn’t worth much.” Winnie sneered. “Glad you know. Stop making a fool of yourself!” “Too bad this isn’t a regular Huawei.” Just as I finished speaking, the conference room door opened again. This time, a middle-aged man in a gray jacket walked in, followed by eight bodyguards. Hank Huo, Senior VP of the Huawei Group. He only appeared at major press conferences. Ethan Fu’s expression changed instantly. He rushed forward. “Mr. Huo? What brings you here?”

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It was an elective, and my boyfriend had, yet again, only saved a seat for his childhood best friend. This time, I didn’t fight her. I didn’t make a scene. I clutched my textbook and walked over to sit next to the campus brainiac, Ethan Knight. While my boyfriend and his “bestie” were getting all handsy, I tugged on Ethan’s sleeve. “Your girlfriend is flirting with my boyfriend. Aren’t you jealous?” Ethan’s gaze was cool: “I don’t have a girlfriend.” I bit my lip and leaned closer: “Well, do you want one?” “What’s the upside?” He stopped writing and looked at me. My cheeks flushed: “You de-stress, I fix my hormones. Win-win.” 01 The moment I walked into the lecture hall, I spotted my boyfriend, Liam Ford. And right next to him, laughing and draped over his shoulder, was his childhood friend, Jenna Wells. They saw me, too. Liam instinctively moved to push Jenna away. But Jenna, smug as ever, just arched an eyebrow at me: “Oops, sorry! Liam only saved the one extra seat. First come, first served.” The classroom went silent. Everyone was watching. This wasn’t the first time Liam had only saved a seat for Jenna. The first time, I was devastated. I cried and ran out. The second time, Jenna provoked me again. I fought her, had a screaming match, and snatched my seat back. Because of Jenna, Liam and I had nothing but fights. All that stress had totally messed up my hormones. This time, seeing them pull the same tired stunt, I just felt utterly bored. I didn’t fight Jenna. I didn’t yell at Liam. I didn’t even look at either of them. I just hugged my textbook and walked straight to the only empty seat in the back row. “Excuse me, is this spot taken?” 02 Ethan Knight, who was writing notes with his headphones on, looked up. His gaze seemed to pause on my face for a second before shifting. Then, he stood up and gestured for me to slide in. I quietly thanked him and settled into the inner seat. Up front. There was a loud thud as a textbook was slammed onto a desk. I looked up. I met Jenna’s glare. Her eyes held a clear, burning resentment. I suddenly remembered a rumor I’d heard when I first arrived at school. Jenna supposedly had a childhood engagement—a “betrothal”—to Ethan Knight. I couldn’t help but look at the guy next to me. He had put his headphones back on and was bent over, focused on a problem set. I could only see his cool, remote profile, radiating an air of untouchable distance. My phone buzzed. It was Liam. [Lost a bet last night, that’s why I saved the seat for Jenna today.] [Don’t be mad, babe. Taking you out for a steak dinner tonight.] Reading his words, I just felt ridiculous. There was always an excuse. It was never that he stood me up, it was because Jenna was sick and he had to take her to the clinic. It was never that they were flirting, it was because they grew up naked together and were “pure bros.” If there was really anything going on, would he even be dating me? Liam was my first boyfriend. I had taken the relationship seriously. That’s why I was always so easily swayed by his mood swings. But now, I just felt empty. I didn’t reply. I just closed the chat. During the break. Jenna and Liam started wrestling. “Oh, you’re gonna use the strong arm against your dad, huh, Liam?” Jenna lunged, chasing Liam around. They looked more like they were heavily flirting. Jenna went for his neck, playfully choking him. Liam looked completely into it. “Okay, enough, act like a lady for once,” he chuckled. “My dad here isn’t one of those dramatic girls,” Jenna said meaningfully, glancing over at me. “I won’t cry a few ‘cat tears’ for attention.” “And I don’t use a squeaky voice, it’s sickening.” I looked down and curled the corners of my mouth. Under the desk, my hand lightly tugged the sleeve of Ethan Knight’s shirt. “Ethan.” He turned his head to look at me. I pressed my lips together and pointed to his headphones. Ethan didn’t speak, but he lifted his hand and removed the headphone from my side. I lowered my voice and, just as Jenna had described, gave it a slight squeak. “Your girlfriend is flirting with my boyfriend. Aren’t you jealous?” 03 Ethan’s eyes were utterly clear: “I don’t have a girlfriend.” “But I heard she has a betrothal—a childhood engagement—with you.” “Utter nonsense.” Ethan’s voice suddenly grew cold. I couldn’t help but look at him again, my gaze tracing his sharp, defined jawline. Then slowly moving down to the hand holding the pen. The sunlight streamed through the window, bathing him in light. His long fingers were like polished jade. I bit my lip, leaned in close, and whispered. “Well, do you want one?” “Want what?” Ethan suddenly turned his head to face me. I didn’t have time to pull away. I was hit with a faint but clean, cooling scent of peppermint. My breath hitched: “A girlfriend.” Ethan put his pen down decisively: “What’s the upside?” My cheeks flushed, and I lowered my long eyelashes. There was a red, angry pimple on my chin. It was throbbing and itching. My roommate said it was stress and a hormonal imbalance. Up front, Liam and Jenna were still being handsy. Jenna was sitting on the desk, teasingly kicking Liam. Every now and then, she would look over at me and laugh—loudly. Her laughter sounded carefree, but it was grating on my nerves. When Jenna first met me, she was instantly hostile. Liam introduced us. She stood next to him, arm hooked over his shoulder like any of his “bros.” She looked me up and down. Then she punched Liam’s arm: “You’re dating one of those delicate ‘little white flowers,’ huh, Dad?” “If you ever ditch your friends for her, I’ll be the first to call you out.” Liam had laughed happily. He probably enjoyed that dynamic all along. I took a deep breath. As Jenna looked over again, laughing on purpose, I tugged Ethan’s sleeve under the desk. “You de-stress, I fix my hormones. Win-win.” I’d heard whispers that Ethan’s current research project was incredibly difficult. He’d been pulling all-nighters in the lab. Ethan didn’t speak. His beautiful hand picked up the pen and twirled it. After a long moment, he looked back at me and curved his lips. “Sounds promising, but…” I unconsciously held my breath. The sunlight vanished behind a cloud. Ethan’s voice was suddenly cold: “I’m not interested in other people’s girlfriends.” 04 Class resumed. Jenna was seated properly now. The professor walked in. The noisy classroom quieted down. I leaned in and whispered so only Ethan could hear: “I’ve already decided to break up with him.” Ethan kept his eyes straight ahead at the whiteboard. “Then break up first.” I didn’t dare speak to him again. He was famously the top scholar on campus. When he got serious, he had an air of cold, untouchable seriousness. For the rest of the half-hour lecture. I kept my eyes obediently on the board and the professor. But only I knew my mind was already a million miles away. Just before class ended. Liam suddenly sent another text: [Something came up. Let’s meet tomorrow.] I quickly replied: [No need to meet again. We’re done. Break up.] [Stop being dramatic, Riley. I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend.] [How many times do I have to say it? Jenna and I are just friends.] [Fine, I guarantee I won’t let her crash our date this weekend.] I didn’t reply again. As soon as class ended, Jenna grabbed Liam and rushed out. As she left, she glanced back at the back row. This time, she wasn’t looking at me—she was looking at Ethan. But Ethan was organizing his books with his headphones on, not looking up. Jenna looked slightly disappointed and quickly pulled Liam away. “Ethan, let’s exchange numbers.” I called out to him as he stood up, summoning my courage. Ethan didn’t scan my QR code. “Break up first.” He was so tall. Looking down at me, I always felt like there was no hiding from him. As if nothing could escape his notice. I didn’t dare look him in the eye. I pulled up the chat with Liam and showed him. I whispered: “See, it’s done.” Ethan looked at it. Then, right in front of him, I deleted and blocked Liam. “Do you believe me now?” Ethan’s impossibly handsome face still showed no emotion. But he pulled out his phone, brought up his QR code: “Add me.”

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1 In my past life, my family was cursed with a secret I couldn’t share: they could all hear the thoughts of the girl who had stolen my place. Only I was deaf to her voice. Returning to the Powell mansion, I stood before them in faded, threadbare clothes. Her sweet, venomous thoughts filled the air: [Her foster parents aren’t poor. She’s dressing like this to win sympathy.] My parents’ warmth turned to ice. Years of hardship had given me stomach cancer; every dollar went to painkillers. But Jane spun lies in her mind: [She’s not sick—she’s a gambling addict. Those are drugs.] Their flicker of concern became disgust. They dragged me to rehab. When I vomited from pain, she accused me of being pregnant. I begged and pleaded, but the Powells wouldn’t listen. They locked me away, and the staff tortured me until I died. When I opened my eyes, I was back at the beginning. But this time, I could hear her too. I looked straight at Jane and said, “I can hear you.” … The moment the Powells found me, I was digging through a dumpster for something to eat, my hands trembling from hunger. Jane stared at my patched-up jeans, and her silent voice slithered into my mind. [Her foster parents aren’t even poor. She must be dressing like this on purpose, scavenging for scraps just to win Mom and Dad’s sympathy. Should I say something?] Instantly, the pity on my birth parents’ faces curdled into revulsion. Just like before. In my past life, I couldn’t hear her thoughts, couldn’t understand why their expressions changed so abruptly. I just assumed they were disgusted by how dirty I was. But this time was different. I looked directly at Jane. “I can hear you,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “And I’m not wearing these clothes for sympathy. They’re the only ones I own. I’m digging through the trash because my foster parents don’t feed me. If I don’t, I starve.” Jane’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected me to be so direct, to voice her inner thoughts out loud. She bit her lip, her mind racing. [Can she really hear me? How can she lie without even blushing? I looked into it. Her foster parents treated her like a princess…] As my parents’ gazes filled with suspicion, I shoved up the sleeve of my tattered shirt, revealing a roadmap of old scars and fresh bruises. “Did you really look into it?” I challenged Jane. “Because all they ever did was beat me. I can’t remember a day in my life when I wasn’t covered in wounds. If you don’t believe me, take me to a hospital for an examination. But stop slandering me in your head.” Jane’s face went pale. She shrank behind Mrs. Powell, her thoughts turning pitiful. [She’s terrifying. She’s hurting herself just to get Mom and Dad’s attention.] [She doesn’t even need to do all this. She’s their real daughter. They’d love her anyway.] I turned to the Powells. “Take me to a hospital.” Seeing the marks covering my body, their eyes reddened with a fresh wave of pity, their faces a canvas of confusion. Who was telling the truth? Mr. Powell stepped forward, trying to smooth things over. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said to me. “Your sister… we’ve spoiled her. Don’t take what she thinks to heart. She’s just scared we’re going to cast her out.” I knew Jane’s place in their hearts was secure. She was the one who had been by their side all these years. I agreed to come back, but not for their affection. Last time, their blindness to Jane’s manipulations cost me my chance at treatment. This time, I wouldn’t let her silent lies destroy me. They ushered me into their car, ready to take me to my new home. But a sharp, agonizing pain seized my stomach. My face went white, my body started to tremble uncontrollably, and I fumbled in my pocket for my pills. I had just gotten the bottle open when Jane’s voice echoed in my head again. [Oh my god, she’s an addict. That’s not a painkiller bottle, it’s full of drugs. This is so bad…] The concern on my parents’ faces vanished, replaced by that familiar look of revulsion. Mr. Powell stopped the car, reaching over to snatch the bottle from my hands. But I was faster. I swallowed two pills and, in one swift motion, shoved a few more into his open mouth. I clamped my hand over his lips, tilting his head back like you would a stray cat you’re trying to deworm, and held it there until he swallowed. 2. Only then did I let go. “Elara!” my mother shrieked. “What are you doing?” The medicine was already working, dulling the fire in my stomach. I shrugged. “We should probably head to the hospital. If you start having withdrawals, you’ll have to check into rehab with me.” Jane’s face was ashen, her mind scrambling to regain control. [She’s terrifying. The drugs must be making her act like this. We have to get her to a facility, quickly—] Before she could finish the thought, my hand shot out and I slapped her across the face. Then I gave her the same treatment, forcing a few pills down her throat. As she choked them down, I looked at her with a cold smile. “You know damn well what they are.” Jane fell silent. My father’s face was a thunderous mask, but he had no time to rage at me. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped toward the nearest hospital. They ran every test imaginable: blood draws, an endoscopy, even a full toxicology screen. There was no sign of drug addiction. Still, my father wasn’t convinced. He insisted I was just a casual user and forced me through another battery of tests. That’s when they found it. The cancer. And the pills, they confirmed, were nothing more than high-strength painkillers. My parents couldn’t meet my eyes, their faces etched with shame. I looked at them. “So, are we still going to rehab?” My mother forced a laugh and reached for my hand. “Elara, honey, what have you been through? How could you have gotten cancer?” My voice was flat. “By living a life where I never knew where my next meal was coming from.” “The people who raised me swapped me with their daughter, Jane. They wanted me dead. A census worker showed up at their door, so they were forced to register me. They saw me as a waste of food, starving me for days on end before tossing me scraps like a dog.” “As I got older, I started scavenging from dumpsters just to survive. The constant hunger turned into a chronic illness, but there was no money for a doctor. I just learned to live with the pain. When I was old enough to work, I could finally afford to eat, but by then, it was already cancer. Every cent I made went to painkillers. With no money left for food, I went back to the dumpsters.” “When you found me, I thought… I thought I’d finally have enough to eat.” I let out a bitter laugh. The guilt on their faces deepened. Jane chose that moment to make her move. She approached my bed, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Elara,” she sobbed, slapping her own cheek. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who stole your life…” Her strategy had shifted. Now, she was playing the victim. [Mom and Dad must hate me now. It’s all my fault. I’m the child of her foster parents. If it weren’t for me, my sister wouldn’t have suffered like this.] As predicted, my parents immediately rushed to her side. “Jane, honey, it’s not your fault. It’s your parents’ fault.” “That’s right, you had no choice in the matter! They switched you, you didn’t ask for this…” Just then, the hospital room door burst open, and my foster parents rushed in. My foster mother grabbed my hand, her face a mask of deep concern. “Elara, sweetie, are you okay? Why would you go digging through the trash?” she cried. “We gave you everything, we raised you like a princess! We know you were upset that we couldn’t buy you all the designer bags you wanted, but you can’t punish us like this…” She broke down into heart-wrenching sobs. My foster father hung his head, wiping away fake tears. “We’re just glad you’ve found your real parents. They’re wealthy. They can give you the life you deserve. It’s our fault we couldn’t provide for you…” 3. Every word was a carefully crafted performance, painting me as a vain, ungrateful brat. Jane’s thoughts chimed in right on cue: [But Elara said they were horrible to her?] My mother’s face flushed with anger. She spun around and slapped me. “Elara! Is this what you call being mistreated?” she spat. “I can’t believe you’d lie like that, pretending to be a victim just because they wouldn’t buy you a handbag! You manipulated us, tried to turn us against Jane!” “Thank god your foster parents showed up to set the record straight!” My foster mother immediately dropped to her knees. “Please, don’t hit her!” she begged. “If you have to hit someone, hit me! It’s my fault, I didn’t raise her right… I never laid a hand on her, not once! You can’t either!” My mother was furious. “This is what happens when you spoil a child! Look what she’s become!” But my foster mother remained on the floor, weeping with guilt. “It’s not her fault. We just couldn’t give her the life she wanted.” [Her foster parents’ clothes are so old and worn out. They look so poor,] Jane thought, fanning the flames. My parents looked at the couple—their threadbare clothes, their graying hair, the exhausted lines etched on their faces. The image of me, their daughter, throwing a tantrum over luxury goods while these poor people struggled to raise me, sent my mother into a fresh rage. “They worked so hard for you, and you repay them by pretending to be homeless? You’re unbelievable.” Having already died once, I felt strangely calm. “They’re lying,” I said simply. “And the hospital already confirmed I have cancer.” My foster father immediately shot back, “Elara, how could you lie to your birth parents like this? Just because the doctor is your cousin doesn’t mean you can make up something so serious!” I’d had enough. I walked to the door and raised my voice. “Excuse me! Doctor! My family says I’m faking my cancer and they want to stop my treatment!” A passing nurse and my own doctor, who was standing down the hall, both turned and hurried over. “What is wrong with you people?” the nurse scolded them. “Your daughter has stomach cancer and you want to refuse treatment? If she gets help now, she has a chance. If you do nothing, she might not have more than a few months…” My doctor’s brows furrowed. “Who here is Elara’s legal guardian?” My foster parents paled, realizing their lie had been exposed. The foster father stepped forward, trying to salvage the situation. “We are, we are. She’s just throwing a little tantrum, you know how kids are. We’ll just take her home now and get in touch with you later.” It was a clever move. To the doctor, it would sound like I was being difficult and they were responsible parents. To my real parents, it would confirm their suspicion that the doctor was my cousin. I didn’t bother arguing. I looked straight at the doctor. “My foster parents are claiming you’re my cousin, and that I paid you to fake my diagnosis.” The doctor’s face darkened. “That’s absurd! I’m nobody’s cousin!” He immediately called for the hospital administrator. Seeing things spiral out of control, my foster father tried to grab me and leave. The doctor blocked their path, his expression grim. “This is a serious accusation that affects my professional integrity. You will wait here for the police to arrive and take your statements.” Jane’s face went white. “You can’t call the police!” she blurted out. I smiled.

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It was New Year’s Eve. I cooked a feast, waiting for Olivia to come home. Olivia didn’t even glance at the food. She just packed her bags. She spoke coldly: “I can’t spend the holiday with you this year.” I didn’t say a word, just quietly ate the meal alone. At midnight, Olivia’s ex-boyfriend, Luke, posted a photo on social media right on time. Olivia was leaning intimately against his shoulder, with grand, sparkling fireworks outside the window. The caption: “She said she’d drop everything and be here for me, as long as I asked.” I didn’t lose control. I just calmly tapped the “Like” button. Olivia called immediately, her voice urgent and panicked: “Don’t be mad. I promise I’ll spend next New Year’s with you…” I laughed bitterly: “Too bad there won’t be a next year for us.” … Olivia came home after the holiday. I usually met her at the bottom of our apartment complex, but not this time. She texted: “Where are you?” I was eating lunch. I casually replied: “Come on up yourself. I’m eating.” A moment later, I was in the kitchen washing dishes when Olivia came in, dragging her suitcase and catching her breath. “I haven’t eaten either. Make me a bowl of noodles.” Normally, I would rush to cook for her, but I just said flatly: “I’m busy. Go eat downstairs.” Olivia glared at me, annoyed, but she suppressed her anger. “I know you’re still mad about New Year’s. But please, stop giving me the cold shoulder. I’m genuinely hungry.” I dried my hands after finishing the dishes. “I’m not mad.” Olivia didn’t believe me. “Luke is alone in the city. Regardless of our past, I should be there for him.” I replied calmly: “Yeah, I know.” Olivia stared into my eyes, trying to read me. Finally, she looked exhausted. “This is exhausting. Can you just stop being dramatic?” I stared back: “I’m not being dramatic. You don’t need to explain.” Olivia fell silent. She pulled an airplane model from her suitcase and handed it to me. She looked down her nose at me and said flatly: “New Year’s gift.” The plane model was poorly packaged, wrinkled and crushed, a stark contrast to the perfectly wrapped gifts Luke showed off online. I didn’t show any pleasure. I just replied politely: “Thanks.” I didn’t react further. Olivia’s face tightened. She asked angrily: “That’s it?” I replied blandly: “That’s it.” Olivia’s face turned white with rage. She held out her hand to me: “Where’s mine?” I finally remembered. I apologized: “Sorry, I forgot. I’ll transfer you money. Buy something for yourself.” I grabbed my phone and quickly sent her the money. Olivia’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe I had forgotten. Exchanging New Year’s gifts was our tradition. I had always maintained it, even when she forgot mine. An awkward silence filled the room. I grabbed my jacket from the sofa and headed for the door. Olivia called out urgently: “Where are you going?” I answered simply: “Out to grab a drink with friends.” With that, I closed the door, ignoring her calls. After I started dating Olivia, she said she didn’t like me drinking, so I quit. As a result, my friends thought I was boring and controlled. My phone stopped ringing for parties. Now, I was finally going to drink to my heart’s content. Chapter 2 Three rounds in, my friends complained: “I thought you got a girlfriend and forgot about us! Don’t ever do that again.” I nodded, assuring them: “Invite me to any party. I’ll be there, anytime.” After I started dating Olivia, I put all my focus on her. My job and my life revolved around her. I lost my own social circle. Now, I saw how foolish that was. I checked my phone. Olivia had declined the money transfer. I got home around 1 AM. I flipped the light on and saw Olivia sitting on the sofa. I felt a moment of confusion, wondering if I was seeing things. Olivia saw me drunk and looked disappointed, not offering to help. She said disdainfully: “Frank, can you try to have some self-respect? If you’re jealous, just say so. Drinking like this just makes me look down on you.” My head was spinning. I clung to a chair and sat down. Olivia smelled the alcohol on me and subtly wrinkled her nose. “I told you I don’t like you drinking.” “Luke and I aren’t what you think. We’re just friends right now. You don’t need to get drunk over him.” I clutched my head, slurring: “You’re overthinking it… I’m drinking because… I’m happy.” Seeing me like that, her voice became sharp: “Enough! I gave you a chance. What more do you want? Don’t push me. My patience is limited. I can’t tolerate your endless demands.” My head was pounding. Her voice made it worse. “Stop yelling. I’m going to sleep.” Olivia sighed, calming down, and stood up to help me. But I avoided her. I clung to my last thread of sanity, stumbled into the guest room, and locked the door. I ignored her knocking. I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. When I woke up, Olivia was silently watching TV, her face dark. I knew she was angry. But I didn’t try to soothe her. I washed up and walked out. Chapter 3 I went to the office and handed in my resignation. I took this job just to be close to Olivia. Now, it wasn’t necessary. The CEO tried to keep me, but I firmly refused. A few days ago, the international company I applied to finally sent an acceptance letter. It was my dream job, but I’d turned it down for Olivia. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late to chase my dream. After resigning, I started wrapping up my work. I called a friend with the good news. He was happy for me, but paused. “What about Olivia? Is she going with you?” I gave a bitter laugh: “No. Just me. We’re almost over.” My parents were gone. The only people I knew were a few friends and Olivia. I used to think my home was wherever Olivia was. Now, I felt rootless. I was a leaf drifting to wherever the wind took me. I got home, and Olivia was heading out. She was dressed perfectly in shorts, her legs long and beautiful. She was carrying a birthday cake. I knew where she was going. It was Luke’s birthday. She was on the phone, speaking joyfully: “Stop guessing! If I tell you the gift, it won’t be a surprise! Just wait for me.” She laughed giddily, revealing her dimples. Her genuine smile was rare to me. She smiled, but seeing me, her face instantly dropped. She gave a look of pure disdain. She put on her shoes, and the door slammed shut. I knew she was giving me the silent treatment, which was usually over Luke. Every time, I would scramble to please her. Even if she ignored my texts, I would try harder. But this time, I just searched for foreign recipes online, practicing them at home. I needed to adapt. Chapter 4 Lying in bed, I saw Luke’s social media post: “I’m so grateful that after everything, you’re still by my side.” The comments were from Olivia’s friends: “So touching. I’m happy Olivia is happy.” Olivia’s friends always saw me as the intruder between Luke and Olivia. They believed Olivia would be happier without me. Looking at Olivia’s own comment, I saw they weren’t wrong. Olivia commented: “Everything happens for a reason.” I watched their sickening interactions. One of her friends commented: “Stop posting! Frank will see this and cause drama!” In the past, I politely asked Olivia to keep her distance from Luke. Her friends called me controlling and small-minded. Olivia just let them, then criticized me for not being “man enough” to be generous. But I ignored them this time. I closed the app and watched videos. I fell asleep. Olivia woke me up when she returned. She shouted: “Frank, your girlfriend was out late, and you didn’t check on me? My friend’s boyfriends call constantly! What is wrong with you?” Chapter 5 I looked at her, confused. Why was she so upset? I used to check on her constantly, and she snapped: “I’m not a trophy! Give me some freedom! I’m suffocating!” Now that I didn’t call, she was upset. I had no idea what she wanted. But I didn’t bring up the past. I just said calmly: “You were out with friends. Why would I call? You and Luke are just friends. I have nothing to worry about.” Olivia’s eyes widened in disbelief. She was shocked I spoke so calmly about Luke. She quickly explained: “That post was just a memorial. It means nothing. Don’t worry.” I shook my head, about to speak, but she continued: “Why? Do you think I shouldn’t have gone to Luke’s birthday? We’ve known each other for ten years! We dated briefly, but now we’re just friends! I had to go!” I replied understandingly: “I know. It’s late. Go to bed.” Olivia was silent. She stared at me, trying to confirm I wasn’t angry. She reached out to hug me, but I subtly moved away. I said flatly: “Are you sleeping in the master or the guest room?” Chapter 6 Olivia looked surprised. I had never rejected her intimacy before; I usually craved it. Angry and embarrassed, Olivia slammed the guest room door and went to the master bedroom. I went straight to sleep. Since I stopped obsessing over her, falling asleep was easy. The next morning, my college professor called. He found out I was going abroad and wanted to say goodbye. I couldn’t refuse his offer to gather the class together. I was surprised to see Olivia there. Of course. She was his favorite student. Next to her was Luke. Even for a casual reunion, she brought him. Olivia saw me and gestured for me to sit down. I ignored her. I wouldn’t disturb them. Luke saw me and smirked. He quickly composed himself and apologized to me. “Sorry to intrude on your reunion. I got bored, so Olivia brought me.” Chapter 7 Olivia tried to explain to me several times, but failed. I politely raised my glass: “The professor doesn’t mind. I certainly don’t.” I drank and checked my phone. Olivia had sent several texts: “I only brought him because it was convenient. Don’t worry.” “If you mind, I won’t bring him next time.” The last text read: “Let’s go home together after dinner.” I cleared my throat and texted back: “No need. You and Luke can go. I drove.” I focused on my dinner, ignoring her messages. The conversation flowed, and everyone reminisced. My professor got sentimental. He stood up, raising his glass to me. “You were my best student. Your dream was always to study abroad. I don’t know why you stayed here.” “But now, I’m so happy you’re finally going! Here’s to your journey and a successful career!” I smiled gratefully and downed the drink. Olivia looked stunned, as if hearing unbelievable news. Chapter 8 “Professor, what are you talking about? What’s this about going abroad?” Olivia’s voice was sharp. The professor didn’t know we were dating. He replied casually: “You don’t know? Frank is going abroad. This is our last dinner with him. It’ll be hard to see him again.” Olivia’s eyes were bloodshot. She rushed up and pulled me out of the room. We stood against the wall. I remained calm. She spoke first. “Abroad? What do you mean? Why didn’t you discuss this with me? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice trembled with disbelief and fear. I realized my mistake. “Oh, that. You were spending New Year’s with Luke, so I didn’t want to bother you.” My voice was distant and formal, drawing a clear boundary. Olivia looked embarrassed but grabbed my arm. “No matter what, I’m your girlfriend. You should share things with me.” I nodded surprisingly. I used to tell her everything, and she complained I was annoying. She sighed and asked: “How long will you be gone?” I lied: “About a year.” I planned to stay permanently. Olivia looked shocked. “That long?” I kept my head down, letting her believe the lie. She finally said: “Let’s go home together later.” She looked hopeful. Chapter 9 Before I could answer, Luke walked out of the room. His eyes were glazed over from the alcohol. He leaned into Olivia. Olivia looked frantic, checking my reaction. “He’s drunk. We never touch when he’s sober.” She couldn’t push him away. Olivia always said she hated the smell of alcohol, but she didn’t flinch from Luke. She ignored Luke, looking at me: “Wait for me. I’ll get him a ride, and then we’ll go home.” Before I could answer, Luke whined: “I’m dizzy. Take me home, okay?” He rubbed against her, a gesture that looked practiced. I spoke calmly: “No need. He obviously needs you. I’ll go home by myself.” Olivia looked desperate. “What about you? I’ll take you first.” I gave her a knowing look: “I’ll take a cab. Just drop me at the next corner.” She hesitated but pulled over. I got out. She looked worried. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can skip him.” I urged her: “Go. You’ll be late.” She drove off. I went to complete my paperwork. I looked at the date. Ten days until I left the country. Back home, I saw Olivia’s text: “I dropped Luke off.” “He kept throwing up. I might stay here tonight.”

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My brother’s crush yelled herself hoarse at me. “My brother has a gorgeous girlfriend, does yours?” “My brother’s parents are whole and healthy, are yours?” I sneered, “My brother would eat dirt. Would yours?” That night, my brother came home disheartened after being rejected for the seventh time. He found me crouching by the door, smiling with a face full of flattery. He paused, then asked with weary affection, “What mischief have you been up to now?” The words were barely out when his phone rang. The man on the other end spoke with hesitant frustration: “You win. Okay?” “I genuinely couldn’t bring myself to eat that stuff.” 1 He hung up and called out to me as I tried to sneak back into the house. “Lola Clark. Get back here.” I flinched. Full name meant he was seriously mad. I shuffled back, head bowed, and looked up at him. My whole body screamed one thing: guilty. “Bro.” I called out sweetly, but his gaze was steady and unwavering. “I didn’t mean it.” Since I was little, I knew my brother was the “Villain” of this story. And his opposite was the “Hero,” Mark Hamilton, who had success in both career and love. Mark had a loudmouthed sister, Tina, who was in my class. Every day, she’d boast in class, “My brother finally got his girl! He has the most beautiful girlfriend now. She bought me so many dresses, I love her!” In contrast, one day my brother, Luke, was half an hour late picking me up from school. His eyes were red, and he looked completely lost. I tugged on his sleeve and asked what was wrong. He forced a smile, leaned down, and ruffled my hair. “Nothing, sweetie. Just… the person your brother loves already loves someone else.” “So what if she does? If you like her, keep going for it,” I tilted my head, looking at him. “Are you scared?” After a parent-teacher meeting, Tina, the Loudmouth Sister, started handing out snacks her parents had prepared. “My parents seriously love me and my brother so much. They give me this much food every day. I’m honestly sick of it.” Her sharp eyes landed on me. “Lola, why is it always your brother who comes to parent-teacher meetings? Don’t your parents care about you?” I put down my textbook and told her honestly, “My brother and I grew up in an orphanage. We don’t have parents.” “Someone doesn’t have parents?” Tina gasped. “Doesn’t that mean there are two fewer people in the world who love you and your brother? That’s so sad.” I knew she didn’t mean to be malicious, just a little tactless. So I replied, “I have my brother. That’s enough.” Maybe because we both had older brothers, Loudmouth Tina often clung to me. She started and ended every sentence with “my brother.” The argument happened that afternoon. Tina said, “It’s annoying. The pretty girl is already with my brother, but some clueless person is still asking her out, trying to steal my pretty sister!” Since she was insulting my brother, I wasn’t going to let it go. We started fighting, and inevitably, the topic returned to our brothers. Tina was smug. “My brother has twenty properties and seven sports cars. Does yours?” “My brother has a gorgeous girlfriend, does yours?” “My brother’s parents are whole and healthy, are yours?” … I was stumped. My brother didn’t have any of those things. But I couldn’t surrender now! So, I sneered, “My brother would eat dirt. Would yours?” That one sentence killed the conversation. Tina was speechless. When school ended, I saw Mark, the Hero, picking up Tina. Tina was clinging to Mark’s leg, tearfully trying to force him to eat dirt. I didn’t dare watch anymore. I stared straight ahead and walked home, stiff-legged. 2 Uncharacteristically, my brother didn’t come to pick me up. Usually, if he couldn’t make it, he’d text Mrs. Peterson next door and ask her to grab me when she picked up her grandson. I waited by the school gates for a long time but saw no sign of Luke Clark. Seeing the sky getting dark, I decided to walk home alone. When I arrived, I saw a thick stack of papers on the desk. They included my personal ID information, daily habits, and even detailed notes like ‘she only eats the leaves of vegetables.’ A sense of dread crept in. I put down my backpack and secretly slipped into my brother’s study. Luke was never cautious with me. I easily opened his computer. The last song playing was “I once wished I were dead.” His recent search history included: “How to leave entire inheritance to minor child?” “Top ten best foster homes in the country.” “Will a brother’s death leave lasting trauma on a sister?” … I took a deep breath, shut down the computer, and restored the study to its original state. Then, I called Loudmouth Tina. Half an hour later, my brother came home. He held the un-delivered flowers, his eyes red-rimmed, his smile strained. If I remember correctly, this was Luke’s seventh failed attempt at confessing. The girl he loved was the Female Lead, Sarah. Sarah was destined to be with Mark, the Hero. But my brother was the Villain. He didn’t know that. He just believed he wasn’t good enough. I stepped forward and hugged Luke around the waist. I looked up at him. “Bro, you’re finally home!” “I’m cooking tonight! I made you dinner.” I brought out a pot of soup that was a bizarre color and smelled strange. “And my mid-term grades are out!” I presented him with three test papers. All three scores were single digits. Added together, they were still less than my brother’s age. Luke’s hand, holding the papers, started to tremble. I hit him with the next bomb. “Bro, my teacher wants you to take me to a doctor. She says I might have ADHD. What is ADHD?” My brother closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the light was gone. He hesitated. “I remember you got straight A’s last semester?” “Yep,” I stirred the soup. “But learning is boring. When I grow up, I’m going to get tattoos. Uncle Mike next door has a full sleeve. So cool.” Luke frowned. “Lola Clark, where did you learn all this nonsense?” He lectured me seriously for half an hour. I hung my head and replied vaguely. After lecturing me, my brother put on a small apron, ready to go to the kitchen. Just then, his phone rang. I looked at him, feeling deeply guilty. Luke paused and asked with weary affection, “What mischief have you been up to now?” He answered the phone. The man on the other end spoke with hesitant frustration: “You win. Okay?” “I genuinely couldn’t bring myself to eat that stuff.” The meaning was vague, and before my brother could ask me for an explanation, my watch-phone rang. Loudmouth Tina was crying so loudly her voice echoed through the whole house. “Waaah, Lola! My brother absolutely refuses to eat dirt!” “He said he can do anything I want and give me anything I want. I just want him to eat dirt, and he won’t!” “Can I trade him for a brother who will eat dirt?” 3 A dead silence fell over the living room. I secretly glanced up to check Luke’s expression. He pushed the pot of soup away, set my test papers aside, and lifted his chin. “Sit down.” When my brother’s face is expressionless, it’s quite intimidating. I sat obediently across from him and confessed. “Bro, I messed up.” “That phone call just now, was that Mark Hamilton’s sister?” When I nodded, my brother asked, “Since when?” “Since when what?” I looked up, confused. Luke closed his eyes. “Trading brothers. When did you start wanting to trade me?” Before I could answer, my brother began to self-reflect. “I’m sorry, Lola. I haven’t been a good brother. With the company problems lately, I haven’t been able to pay attention to your feelings.” “I know I’m not a good brother. It’s completely normal that you like someone like Mark and want him to be your brother.” Luke looked downcast. He forced a smile. “I didn’t take good care of you.” Seeing my brother getting sadder, I jumped off the chair and grabbed his hand. “But I don’t want to trade brothers with Tina!” “You are the best brother in the whole world!” Luke stared blankly at my hand gripping his. “But I don’t have twenty properties and seven sports cars.” I shook my head firmly. “Doesn’t matter!” “I don’t have a gorgeous girlfriend.” “I don’t care!” “I don’t have parents either.” “I have my brother, and that’s enough.” “Hmm.” Luke spoke softly. “But your brother won’t eat that… stuff…” I instantly shut my mouth. At that moment, the front door was hammered violently. Loudmouth Tina’s penetrating voice carried inside. “Lola Clark! I’m here to trade brothers!” Two more people squeezed into the small living room. Tina swaggered in, dragging Mark by the wrist. She wasn’t shy at all. She looked around the living room, and her eyes lit up when they landed on Luke. They were like lightbulbs turning on. Tina was satisfied. She dramatically pushed Mark in front of me and patted my shoulder generously. “I’m giving you my useless brother first. You’re going to stay in my mansion tonight. I’m going to stay here with Big Brother Luke.” Mark, as the author’s beloved Hero, was flawless. His only minor flaw was that he was an absolute sim-p for his sister, who was thirteen years younger than him. He spoiled her rotten and listened to her every word. Knowing his sister was just being impulsive, he spoke apologetically. “Mr. Clark, can my sister stay here tonight? We can negotiate the payment.” “What do you mean, tonight?” Tina looked at her brother with disgust. “You’re so useless. I don’t want you anymore. From now on, I’m Big Brother Luke’s sister. I’m going to live here forever.” She pushed me forward. “Lola, all my dresses, my dolls, my snacks—they’re all yours. All you have to do is agree to trade brothers with me.” I was completely unprepared for Tina’s obsession with “trading brothers.” I was about to refuse when Luke, who had been silent the entire time, spoke. His face was calm. “Fine. She’ll trade with you.” 4 I rushed into my room. I grabbed clothes from the closet and haphazardly stuffed them into my little backpack. The living room was full of Tina’s cheers. I could faintly hear Mark cautiously trying to persuade her. “Can I stay here with you, sis? I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.” Tina didn’t care. “Just leave the housekeeper here. You leave. Mr. Hamilton, we’re not related anymore. Don’t call me ‘sis’.” Mark was still trying to reason with her. I sniffled, suddenly wanting to cry. Luke didn’t want me. He saw me as a burden and had been planning to send me away all along. Even my failing grades and talk of tattoos didn’t make him care anymore. My brother didn’t want me. The door gently closed. Luke had come in without my noticing. He emptied the clothes I’d shoved into the backpack and folded them again, one by one. He even remembered to pack my favorite elephant thermos. After packing, Luke gently pinched my cheek. “Let’s go.” “Bro.” I spoke sullenly, staring at his retreating back. “Are you giving me up?” Luke seemed to freeze. After a moment, he turned around and forced another smile. “How could I?” Liars’ noses grow long. I sat in the Hamiltons’ car, clutching my backpack, and looked through the window at Luke, trying to memorize his appearance. He was leaning down, listening to Tina talk, occasionally smiling. Liar. Next time I saw Luke, his nose would definitely be long. I turned my head away, refusing to look at him anymore. The Hamilton mansion was bigger than I imagined. The car pulled up to the gate, and Sarah, the Female Lead, was already waiting there. I’d only heard about Sarah from Luke and Tina. The moment I saw her in person, I was momentarily stunned. Sarah was holding a small bear. She leaned closer to me, her eyes bright. The evening breeze moved her hair, carrying a faint scent of jasmine. “Welcome, little Lola.” My face felt hot. I buried my face in my backpack. “Uh-huh.” The adults must have coordinated. Dinner was all my favorite dishes. Maybe because I’d sampled my own horrifying soup earlier, I had no appetite. I quickly ate a few bites and left the table. I wandered through the Hamilton mansion and nearly got lost. Finally, Sarah led me to my room door. “Go inside and see! Do you like the room I decorated for you?” The room was covered in soft carpets, the closet held rows of pretty clothes, and various dolls were tucked into the corners. Luke spoiled me, but his small company had just started and was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. I had never stayed in a room this grand. “I love it.” I nodded and added, “Thank you, Sarah.” Sarah poked the small topknot on my head, satisfied, and left. In the middle of the night, I woke up with a stomachache. I must have gotten sick from that awful soup I made. I was covered in cold sweat. I fumbled for the bedside lamp switch, but I was unfamiliar with the room and couldn’t find it. My slippers were also nowhere to be found. Standing barefoot on the carpet, I looked around the dark, unfamiliar room, and an overwhelming wave of misery crashed over me. I crouched down, hugging my knees, curled up in a ball. The pain came in waves, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to make a sound. After what felt like ages, I heard faint voices outside the door. “Do you think Lola’s asleep?” “She didn’t eat much dinner. Text Luke again and ask if there’s anything else she likes to eat.” “The air conditioning seems too cold. Is she going to freeze?” … The door hadn’t been fully closed and was pushed open slightly. The warm, yellow light from the hallway spilled in. Through my cold-sweat-dampened hair, I struggled to look up. “Lola!” The moment Sarah hugged me, I clung desperately to her clothes. I was rushed to the hospital that night. Fortunately, it wasn’t serious. When I woke up, Sarah and Mark were still watching over me. Only a dim small lamp was on in the room. I shifted slightly, and they immediately noticed. “Are you still uncomfortable?” When I shook my head, Mark asked, “Can’t sleep? Want me to tell you a story?” “Forget it. You only know those few stories. Let me tell one.” “A long, long time ago…” I fell asleep listening to Sarah’s gentle voice. As I closed my eyes, I thought spitefully, I wish Mark and Sarah were really my brother and sister. Luke didn’t want me, so I wouldn’t want him either.

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