Category: English

1 On the anniversary of my mother’s death, I ran into Uriah Vance. We hadn’t spoken in six years. I acted like he wasn’t there, my eyes fixed on my mother’s headstone as I walked past him. He clutched a bouquet of white lilies, following a few steps behind me like a nervous shadow. After a long, heavy silence, he finally found his voice, the words carefully chosen. “Can I… can I go pay my respects to my father?” he asked, his voice strained. “He wanted to see you, before the end. But your address, your number… you’d changed everything.” I nodded once. Surprise flickered in his eyes. He’d expected a fight—a storm of furious accusations, the biting, sarcastic remarks I used to be so good at. The rest of his plea, whatever it was, died on his lips. His eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, lit up with a fragile hope. “Rina,” he whispered, “you don’t hate me anymore.” A small, empty smile touched my lips, but I said nothing. Six years, and he still didn’t get it. Hate is just the ghost of love. With no love left, there was nothing to haunt me. … Uriah’s father had been kind to me. Whatever happened between his son and me, the man was gone now. Debts die with the dead. It was only right to pay my respects. After placing the lilies on the grave, I turned to leave. A weight settled on my shoulder. I looked up into Uriah’s gentle gaze as he draped his coat over me. “It’s almost winter,” he said softly. “You’re not dressed warmly enough.” Without a word, I shrugged the coat off. I’d learned long ago how to keep myself warm; I didn’t need charity from anyone else. He stiffened, the rejection hanging in the air between us. He quickly changed the subject. “Where are you living now? It’s hard to get a cab from out here. Let me give you a ride.” “No need. I work here.” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I actually thought you were over it,” he scoffed. “We talk for two minutes and you’re already back to your old games. You, of all people. You’ve always been terrified of places like this.” He was right. I used to be terrified of ghosts. But ever since they buried Mom here, that fear was gone. Now, some nights, I’d give anything to hear her ghost yell at me just one more time. To hear her scream at the fool I was, throwing my life away for a man, rotting in a cell while she died alone, without me there to hold her hand. Uriah took a few quick steps to catch up, his hand reaching for mine. Just then, his phone rang. His hand dropped, diving into his coat pocket. “Lily…” he answered, his voice softening. “Honey, I told you to wait for me! We were supposed to come here together.” The voice on the other end was crisp and professional, laced with a playful frustration. “I had to move mountains to get out of that international conference, and I booked the earliest flight back just for you.” If Uriah hadn’t used her name, I wouldn’t have recognized her. It was Lily. The same Lily who used to speak in a thick country accent, so self-conscious she’d barely say a word. The girl who clung to my arm on her first-ever flight, too afraid to ask for a bottle of water because she thought people would laugh at how she talked. Now, she sounded like a powerhouse, a woman who commanded boardrooms. It seemed Uriah had taken very good care of her. He shot a panicked glance at me, clearly terrified she’d find out I was here. He mumbled a few excuses and quickly hung up. “I’ll come find you again,” he said before he left, his words a promise or a threat. My coworker, who had been watching from a distance, came over, her eyes wide with envy. “Rina, you’re a quiet one! How do you know a famous lawyer like Uriah Vance?” “He’s the one who bought that quarter-million-dollar plot for his dad,” she gossiped. “If you know him, you won’t have to worry about sales quotas. Just wait for one of his rich relatives to kick the bucket and…” I couldn’t help a tired, hollow laugh. Only people who sell graves for a living wish for death. The late autumn wind cut through my thin sweater, chilling me to the bone. The smile froze on my face. There was a time, I remembered, when I had wished for his entire family to die. I met him when my mother’s illness was at its worst. The medical bills piled up, one after another, an insurmountable mountain of debt. I spent my nights by her bedside, holding her hand through the pain, and my days enduring her screaming fits as the agony frayed her nerves and she lashed out at the only person left. Still, she got worse. I’d hide in the dark, silent stairwells of the hospital, shoving bread into my mouth to choke back the sobs. One night, I finally broke. I screamed at the heavens, cursed my luck, my life, everything, for a solid half hour. Wiping the tears from my face with the back of my hand, I walked out, forgetting I’d left my phone behind. On my way back, I nearly collided with a man walking down the stairs, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He paused, clearing his throat. “Uh… I didn’t hear a thing.” After that, we kept running into each other. It turned out his father was in the same hospital, on the same floor. He’d watch over my mom so I could get a moment of sunshine, then spend three hours waiting for my turn in a crowded, noisy CT scan queue. When my mom, in a fit of rage, would tangle her hands in my hair and scream that the food was inedible, he’d quietly appear with a container of takeout from a high-end restaurant. They were small gestures to him. Insignificant. But to me, in those moments of suffocating despair, they were a lifeline. A gasp of air when I was drowning. When he found out my mom’s condition was from a workplace accident, he took it upon himself to fight for her compensation. The police dragged their feet, so he went to the construction site alone. By the time I got the call and rushed over, I barely recognized him. He was a silhouette of blood and bruises, surrounded by a dozen workers wielding steel pipes. “Get the hell out of here, you son of a bitch, or I swear to God I’ll run you over!” the foreman screamed. Uriah was trembling with fear, but he gritted his teeth and stood his ground. “Fifty thousand dollars,” he said, his voice shaking but firm. “You’re not moving a single pile of dirt until you pay.” “Fuck you!” The roar of an engine split the air. The workers scattered as a massive excavator lurched forward. A terrible, piercing scream tore from my throat as I ran, throwing myself in front of the machine. The foreman’s lips trembled. “Crazy. You’re all fucking crazy.” But it was too late. The machine’s tracks had crushed Uriah’s legs. Blood seeped into the dirt, blooming around the horrifying white of shattered bone. The veins in his neck bulged as he fought against the agony, but when he saw me, he managed a weak, broken smile. “Besides my law degree,” he gasped, “I guess I need to learn how to throw a punch. Can’t exactly get justice for my clients otherwise.” That money got my mom the imported medication she needed. Her condition started to stabilize. Uriah won a few major cases, and his career took off. We made a plan: on my birthday, we’d get our marriage license, and then we’d go to the hospital and bring my mom home. A surprise for her. Everything was finally getting better. The night before our appointment at the courthouse, Uriah was out of town, meeting with a client. Determined not to break his promise, he drove through the night to get back to me. He was drunk. He hit someone. I found him huddled in a corner of the hospital waiting room, his eyes locked on the glowing light above the operating room door. A strangled sob escaped his clenched jaw. In that moment, he looked just as hopeless as I had felt when we first met. “Uriah, it’s okay,” I whispered, my own heart hammering against my ribs. “I’m here. Just tell them… tell them I was driving.” His head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. My mind was terrifyingly clear. I weighed the options. He was a rising star in the legal world, his future blindingly bright. My own salary didn’t even cover the taxes he paid each month. And both our parents would need expensive, long-term care. It was selfish, in a way. But it was also love. “We’ll beg the family for forgiveness,” I reasoned. “Worst-case scenario, I do six months.” He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his throat working for a long time before he could speak. “Rina,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion, “if I ever betray you, may God strike me down where I stand.” Neither of us could have known. The victim died. The family refused to forgive. And six months turned into seven years. My coworker, Chloe, slammed her fist on the table, letting out a string of curses. “You did seven years for him? And in the end, he just left you?” I stood up and poured a glass of water, my voice muffled. “You said it yourself. I did the time for him. Not the other way around.” “So who was she?” Chloe pressed, her voice dripping with venom. “Some rich client? A politician’s daughter? Who did that bastard run off with?” I shook my head. It was none of those. It was a girl from a forgotten town upstate who never even finished high school. After I was incarcerated, Uriah looked more haggard with every visit. He’d say the same thing over and over again. “Just hold on, Rina. I’m doing everything I can to get your sentence reduced.” My heart ached for him. He was running himself ragged, fighting for me while also caring for my mother and his own father. So, I asked my cousin, Lily, the girl I grew up with, to come help. The three of us sat together, separated by the thick visitation glass. Lily clutched a bag of my favorite homemade cookies, her eyes swollen from crying. “Don’t you worry, Rina,” she promised. “I’ll take good care of Auntie.” Uriah was polite, but I could see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. Later, he complained, “I can’t understand a word she says with that accent, and she doesn’t know how to use any of the appliances. Wouldn’t it be better to just hire a professional nurse?” “Just be patient with her,” I urged him. “No stranger will ever care for family the way family does.” And just like that, two people whose paths never would have crossed were bound together. By me. Lily couldn’t speak without a thick drawl. So I recorded myself, saying a phrase in our hometown accent, then repeating it in clear, unaccented English. Uriah suggested hiring a tutor, worried I was tiring myself out. He didn’t understand. I used to read stories to Lily to help her sleep. My voice was the one she’d learn from the fastest. After my mother recovered enough to care for herself, Uriah wanted to send Lily back home. But I knew what that meant. Her parents had always favored her brothers; they’d marry her off to the first man who could offer a decent bride price. I insisted we enroll her in night school and begged Uriah to find her a stable job, something that would give her a foothold in the city. Slowly, Uriah’s resistance to her softened. He started bringing me good news about her. She’d passed her GED. She’d gotten an internship at his law firm. She’d won her first small case. At first, I was thrilled for this shy, insecure girl I considered a sister. But then, a subtle wrongness began to creep in. During our one-hour visits, Uriah would spend fifty minutes talking about Lily. Then his visits became less frequent. Did something happen? No, he’s just busy. He has to be busy. I tried to soothe the anxiety clawing at my throat, but the fluorescent lights of the cell hummed twenty-four hours a day, forbidding sleep, forbidding peace. The mocking whispers of the other inmates echoed in the darkness, giving voice to the fears I didn’t dare confront. “That fool still thinks her hotshot lawyer is waiting for her.” “Seven years ain’t seven days. He’s found someone else by now. Probably has kids.” Impossible. I would pull out the pile of gifts and photos he’d brought me over the years, my voice cracking as I defended him to their sneering faces. “This is our house! See? We designed it together. Two kids’ rooms. The one with the pirate ship is for a boy, and the one with the swing is for a girl. He even picked out a retirement community for us, for when the kids are grown. He promised he’d make up for these seven years.” Any man in the world could cheat. Not my Uriah. Never him. But on the day I was released, he wasn’t there to meet me. Only my grandmother was, her hair white as snow, her back bent as she sat on the edge of a concrete planter. The grief was so heavy in her frail body that when she opened her mouth to speak, only tears came out. “Oh, Rina,” she finally sobbed. “If only you’d gotten out two days sooner. Just two days. You could have seen your mother.” “She kept calling your name,” my grandmother wept, “just wouldn’t let go. She kept saying you were leaving for college on the train tomorrow, that she needed to pack you an extra bag of roasted pecans for the trip.” My throat closed up. A strange, sharp laugh escaped my lips. Grandma was getting old. Saying crazy things in the middle of the day. Mom was at home. Uriah and Lily were taking perfect care of her. The last time we’d video-chatted, the three of them were laughing, gathered around a steaming pot of soup, talking about wedding plans. They had brochures for venues and photographers spread all over the table. They were just waiting for me to come home so we could pick a date. I ran home, my heart pounding. I smoothed my hair in the elevator’s reflection, trying to straighten the wrinkles in my cheap, prison-issue clothes. The door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw them. Two naked bodies, tangled together on the sofa. “What’s the rush?” the woman purred. “You didn’t even lock the door.” The man hastily pulled on his clothes. He turned, and his eyes met mine. He gasped. In that instant, every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. I burst through the door, a feral scream ripping from my lungs, and launched myself at him. I spun and slapped Lily across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. Uriah shoved me back, shielding her with his body. He stared at me, his expression cold. “Seven years in prison taught you nothing?” he snarled. “You get out and the first thing you do is start acting like a lunatic?” Seven years. I had survived on a single promise. When you get out, Rina, we’ll get married. To get my sentence reduced, I let the other inmates beat me without fighting back. I worked until my hands were raw, the rope of the heavy loads I carried tearing through calluses, mixing blood with the grime as I forced down moldy food. I walked out of that place and into a world that looked at me with disgust and suspicion. And this was my reward. He was defending another woman. Accusing me. Seven years taught you nothing. But then, just as I thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, as despair threatened to swallow me whole, Lily leaned in, a triumphant, cruel smile on her face, and whispered in my ear.

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1 For three years, I was the gilded canary in President of Blackwood Holdings, Finn Keery’s cage. We were inseparable, our passion a scorching, all-consuming fire. He never used protection, always holding me close afterward, whispering, “If it happens, we’ll have it. I’ll marry you, Thea.” So when I actually got pregnant, I threw myself off his yacht right in front of him. I left him with a bloated, decaying corpse to remember me by. Months later, in a city far from his empire, he was hunting for another runaway heiress. Instead, he found me, a baby in my arms, chatting with his target. “Running away with the baby is the right move,” I told her, an expert giving advice. “Don’t listen to all the promises he makes. You go home with him? You’ll regret it.” “A man’s words are just pretty lies. They’re fun to play with for a while, but you can’t ever really trust them.” … “As soon as you’re pregnant, I’ll marry you.” Finn’s hot breath tickled my ear as he spoke, his voice a low, husky promise. “Once you’re part of the Keery family, you’ll never have to worry about your parents or that fake sister of yours again.” I forced a smile, my body going rigid. Pregnancy. My biased parents. The impostor sister. Did he really have to bring all that up right now? The mood was instantly shattered. “Pregnancy is impossible,” I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “It hasn’t happened in three years. I’m probably infertile.” He could never know the truth. That I’d been secretly taking birth control this whole time. “You’re young and healthy. It just means I haven’t been trying hard enough.” He flipped me onto my back, his touch reigniting the fire in my veins. I had to admit, Finn was an artist in the bedroom. Our three years together had been a whirlwind of pleasure, a testament to his skill. He was the undisputed king of our city’s elite, powerful and obscenely generous. He took care of me, lavishing me with attention and gifts. Besides his obsession with getting me pregnant, he was flawless. “I can’t be pregnant!” I glared at the old herbalist. “I’ve been taking the contraceptive tea you prescribed every single day.” Ever since that night with Finn, I’d been feeling nauseous, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. I’d snuck out to this small, discreet clinic, only to be told: Congratulations, you’re having a baby. Congratulations? What was there to celebrate? I could barely take care of myself. A baby was not part of the plan. Three years ago, on the eve of my college entrance exams, I was plucked from a hyper-competitive, high-pressure province and dropped into the lap of luxury in the capital. I went from being a penniless orphan from a remote village to the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family. Everyone said I’d hit the jackpot, a Cinderella story come to life. But only I knew the truth. It was a nightmare. My biological parents already had a daughter, one they had raised and adored. I was an intruder, an unwelcome disruption. To avoid upsetting their precious ‘sister,’ they didn’t even bother giving me a new name, just tacked their surname onto my old one. I went from Thea to Thea Tang. When the exam results came out, I scored three hundred points higher than her. But instead of congratulations, I was met with a storm of accusations. “You know your sister struggles with her studies! Did you score that high just to push her over the edge? Do you want her to kill herself?” My mother slapped me across the face. My father, in a fit of rage, cut off all my financial support. To appease their other daughter, they forbade me from attending university. I tried to work and save for tuition myself, but they sabotaged every job I found. Just when I’d hit rock bottom, I met Finn Keery. I became his canary; he paid for my education and my life. The plan was to save up enough money and disappear. But now, there was a baby. What could I give a child? An illegitimate status, a mother who was a kept woman, a toxic and suffocating family? A chill ran down my spine. “No,” I shook my head, “I can’t.” “Your constitution is unique,” the old herbalist said, her gaze sharp. “If you get rid of this one, you may never be able to have another.” “Don’t do something you’ll regret.” My mind was a chaotic mess all the way back to the penthouse. I tried to prepare myself to talk to Finn. He was the father, after all. He deserved to know. But as I approached his study, I heard voices. “Vivian Song from the Song Corporation seems like a good match.” Someone agreed. “Miss Song is from a good family, she’s educated, beautiful. A perfect match.” Finn chuckled, his voice lazy and detached. “A wife for a strategic alliance needs to be sensible, obedient, and presentable. She needs to be able to tolerate… outside arrangements.” My body went rigid. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re right, Finn. A woman like that won’t cause any embarrassing scenes later.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. For three years, he’d told me, again and again: “If you get pregnant, we’ll have it. I’ll marry you.” It was all a lie. A suitable family, a strategic marriage—that had been his goal all along. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Why was I so upset? I’d known from the day I agreed to this arrangement that it wouldn’t last forever. Marriages in his world were business transactions. I was never going to be his wife. But maybe, after three years, I had actually fallen for him. I stumbled back to our bedroom, the traces of our life together suffocating me. “Thea, why do you look so pale?” Finn walked in, his face etched with concern. He reached out to touch my cheek. “Are you not feeling well?” I looked up, seeing the genuine affection in his eyes, and a wave of nausea washed over me. “I’m fine. Just ate something that disagreed with me.” I subtly pulled away from his touch, stepping out of his embrace. The baby. He could never know about the baby. I had to leave. The next day, I started taking inventory. Jewelry and bags to be sold for cash. Gold bars packed separately. Finn had been a generous keeper. He’d drape me in extravagant jewels as if they were trinkets, his eyes full of adoration. Now, looking at these cold, inanimate objects, all I felt was a crushing disappointment. Had he changed, or was it all just an act from the beginning? Finn saw the piles of luxury goods on the floor and smiled. “Can’t find anything you like?” he teased, stroking my hair. “I’ll take you shopping for the new collections.” I kept my eyes down. “I was just admiring them. They’re proof that you love me, after all…” A knock on the door interrupted me. “Mr. Song is here.” Finn gave me a quick, soft kiss. “Thea, I have something important to take care of. Go out, do some shopping. Use my card.” I watched him hurry away, a bitter feeling churning in my stomach. He was playing both sides, wasn’t he? Carefully negotiating his marriage with his future in-laws while placating me with money. Just as I was about to leave, I changed my mind. I tiptoed to the study door. “A high-society marriage is about mutual benefit and maintaining a respectable image. We can’t let trivial matters like personal feelings create an ugly situation,” Finn’s voice was firm and steady. “I’m not sure about the one on the outside… is she sensible?” Mr. Song sounded hesitant. “What if there’s a child…?” “There won’t be a child,” Finn said without a moment’s hesitation. “And if there were, I wouldn’t acknowledge it. The Keery name is respected. We only have legitimate heirs. We can’t afford a scandal.” He paused, then added, “No matter how much I spoil her, she’s just a plaything. The stability of the alliance is what matters.” I wouldn’t acknowledge it. A plaything. The words were like shards of glass in my gut, tearing me apart. A shiver wracked my body. I had become his canary to escape my parents and get an education, to give myself a chance at a future. I knew it wasn’t a respectable path. But I had always told myself: he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and I don’t have a boyfriend. We were just dating, like any other couple. But to him, I was just a toy. And our child… he wouldn’t even acknowledge our child. I went back to the bedroom, replaying his words in my head like a form of self-torture. Each time, the pain and humiliation grew, and the lingering affection I had for him withered away. The agony was so intense, my body started to shake. “Thea, why are you crying?” Finn rushed in, his face a mask of concern as he wiped away my tears. “What’s wrong?” I dug my nails into my palms until they drew blood, forcing myself to calm down. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “I just feel guilty. You’re so good to me, and the one thing you want is a child, and I can’t even give you that.” My voice was thick with fake emotion. “Will you be disappointed in me? Will you stop loving me?” His mood instantly brightened. He pinched my nose playfully. “So afraid I’ll leave you? Then you’ll just have to work harder to please me, so I can’t bear to let you go.” Please him. He had no respect for me at all. I really was just a toy. “What if I stop loving you first?” I asked. “What if I want to leave?” He laughed, a low, dismissive sound. “Leave? Where would you go? You have no money of your own, and your identity is linked to my systems. You think you can escape me?” He was right. He was all-powerful. I couldn’t even buy birth control from a pharmacy; I had to sneak to a back-alley herbalist just to avoid his network of spies. He leaned down, his eyes darkening. “Why are you asking these questions all of a sudden?” “I was just joking,” I cooed, snuggling into his chest. “I’ve been reading too many novels. I was just curious. I didn’t think you’d get so angry.” I looked up at him, my eyes wide and innocent. “If I actually got pregnant and ran away with your child, you’d probably go insane, wouldn’t you?” The arm around my waist tightened like a vise. His face was a thundercloud. “Some things are better left to the imagination.” His voice was dangerously low. “Thea, you can’t handle the consequences of my anger.” I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs, and forced a bright smile. It was clear. A simple escape was impossible. I had to find a way to die. My plan to run away was ruined. I looked at the piles of designer jewelry and bags, a wave of sadness washing over me. Three years of hard work, my entire canary empire… I couldn’t take any of it with me. I was an orphan, rejected by my own parents, forced to sell my body to survive, and the man I’d loved for three years was a monster. Now, my only way out was to fake my own death. And the worst part? I’d have to leave all my treasure behind. The thought filled me with a bitter, helpless despair. Just then, a light laugh echoed from the doorway. “She really is beautiful.” A woman stood there, looking me up and down. Her eyes lingered on the love bites on my neck. “No wonder he can’t let you go. You must be very good at what you do.” It only took me a second to realize who she was. Finn’s fiancée, Vivian Song. She and her friend sneered, their eyes raking over me like I was something dirty. In that moment, I felt a shame so profound I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I finally understood: no matter how I tried to frame it, in their world, I was nothing more than a cheap whore being put in her place by the wife. “Don’t be scared,” Vivian said, her smile condescending. “I’m not here to break you up. As long as you’re obedient and don’t cause any trouble, you two can continue for as long as you like.” She stood there, waiting for my grateful thanks. A wave of humiliation rose in my throat, choking me. “I…” Seeing my defiant silence, her friend exploded. “Vivian is being generous, you ungrateful bitch! Who do you think you are? You’re just a slut who sells her body! You need to be taught a lesson!” “Nana!” Vivian pretended to scold her. “Nana has a temper,” she said, turning back to me, “but she’s right. A girl in your position can’t afford to have pride. If you’re going to be a mistress, you can’t think too highly of yourself.” She went on, lecturing me on the rules of being a kept woman. The more she spoke, the sicker I felt. I doubled over, dry-heaving. Long after they left, I was still shaking. If I didn’t leave Finn, this was just the beginning. If he found out I was pregnant, he would either force me to have an abortion or lock me away, forcing me to live under Vivian’s thumb, enduring her taunts while our child grew up in shame. Despair washed over me, a suffocating tide. The door opened, and Finn stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. “Miss me?” he slurred, wrapping his arms around me from behind. The smell of liquor made my stomach turn. I shoved him away. “Ugh!” He stared at me, then knelt, his hand gripping my chin. “Something’s been off with you lately. You’re always sick, moody, and now you’re throwing up.” He leaned closer, his boozy breath hot on my face. A wicked grin spread across his lips. “Thea, you’re not pregnant, are you?” My heart stopped. “Of course not,” I said, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “If something that wonderful happened, you’d be the first to know. I just have an upset stomach.” He studied me for a long time, his eyes dark and unreadable. I finally broke the tension by snuggling into his arms. He laughed. “Why so clingy tonight?” “It would be nice if you were always this obedient,” he murmured, a strange note in his voice. “Be a good girl, and I’ll take you on a trip soon. My private island in France, skiing in Switzerland, the Northern Lights…” He fastened a glittering necklace around my neck. “There’s a jewelry auction in Italy. I’ll buy you a few more pieces. How does that sound?” I was wrapped in his warmth, but my heart was encased in ice. “That sounds wonderful,” I said, tilting my head up to kiss him. Wonderful, my ass. “I love jewelry. I want so much I can’t even wear it all.” But what was the point of having treasures you could never show off, that came at the cost of your dignity? I loved money, but only if I could spend it freely, with my head held high. A man’s words were just lies. He promised me the world, but once his wife moved in, I’d be hidden away, a dirty secret. I pushed the thoughts down and showered him with kisses. “I heard they have a new cruise on the river. I want to go.” Pleased with my sudden affection, he agreed instantly. “I’ll charter the whole yacht. We’ll spend a few days on the water.” This was it. My plan. If I was going to fake my death, it had to be convincing. Without a body, Finn would never stop looking. But if I left a body… where was I supposed to find a corpse? The river was perfect. The currents were strong. A body could easily be lost, torn apart. I knew how to survive in the water; I’d grown up by a river. My only worry was the baby. “But my child,” I whispered to my belly, “I have to save myself before I can be a mother to you. Please don’t blame me.” The day of the cruise, the weather was perfect. “A few friends are coming,” Finn said. “Vivian Song will be here. You should spend some time with her.” “Why should I?” I retorted. She was his fiancée, but I was still a person, not her entertainment. “I just thought, since you two will be seeing a lot of each other in the future, you should get to know each other…” I laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “I’m not worthy of her acquaintance.” This was his way of telling me to get used to my place. I saw Vivian approaching. They stood together, a picture-perfect couple. “She’s going to be a proper wife. What am I? Find someone else to entertain her.” I turned to walk away, but Finn grabbed my wrist. “What’s gotten into you? What are you talking about?” A wave of disgust washed over me. I ripped my arm away. “Leave me alone!” Finn’s face darkened. “Thea, it seems I’ve spoiled you too much. You’ve become ill-mannered and unpresentable.” The last bit of affection I had for him vanished. He saw my defiant silence and his words grew sharper. “Don’t forget your place! Don’t forget who’s keeping you alive!” My world tilted. My pride shattered. He was right. I was nothing. A charity case, a whore. I deserved their contempt. He thought I was unpresentable? Fine. I was about to die anyway. I took a deep breath. “I’ve always been ill-mannered. I’m not fit to be in Miss Song’s company.” Tears streamed down my face. He froze. It was the first time in three years I had cried in front of him. I walked to the edge of the deck. He didn’t follow. He was probably inside with Vivian. I climbed over the railing. The water churned below. “Thea!” Finn’s voice, raw with panic. “Don’t move! Just wait for me!” I turned and gave him one last, liberating smile. His expression shifted from anger to pure terror. “NO!” He sprinted toward me as I let go, falling into the dark water below. Splash!

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To ensure a painless childbirth, my roommate secretly activated a pain-transfer system tied to me. She gave birth silently, refusing an epidural, pretending not to hear my screams of agony. I bore all the pain, collapsing in the dorm, ignored. When I woke up, I was back on the day my roommate activated the system. “Jenna, be careful. Don’t get hurt. It would break my heart.” I agreed sweetly, then sneaked into the bathroom to draw a razor design on my wrist. My roommate shrieked, demanding to know what I was doing. I looked at her excitedly: “I don’t feel pain anymore! Tomorrow, I’m getting a full-back tattoo—no anesthesia!” 1 “Jenna, Jenna, I’m talking to you. Can’t you hear me?” The dorm curtain was yanked open. I shot up, instinctively touching my lower abdomen. No crippling pain. No tearing sensation. No gushing blood. Did I just travel back in time? Or was the last life just a nightmare? As I pondered this, I was shoved again. I looked up and saw my roommate, Bella, glaring at me. “What is wrong with you? I’ve called your name a dozen times.” Seeing her, my fists clenched. The culprit, standing right there, pretending to be innocent. “What do you want?” I asked coldly. She gave an awkward smile. “Can’t I call you just because? Jenna, we’re roommates. I should care about you.” I stared at her, maintaining my cold silence. She lost interest. “Fine. I want to tell you to watch yourself. Stop being so clumsy and hurting yourself, okay?” I immediately pulled the curtain shut. Once she left, I grabbed my phone. Seeing the date, tears instantly streamed down my face. I was a year back—before Bella got pregnant! I recalled what Bella had just said and felt a spike of suspicion. Was it already active? I made a sudden decision. I picked up my phone and slammed it hard onto my elbow. The expected pain didn’t come. Instead, a muffled cry came from outside the curtain. “Ouch! I dropped my phone!” Bella complained loudly. I pretended to grumble to myself, but I knew: Bella had already activated the pain-transfer system. Bella gritted out, her voice raised, “Can you please be more careful!” I yanked the curtain open. “Why do you care if I get hurt? Besides, even when I get hurt, I don’t feel pain. What do I have to worry about?” She was staring at me, a flicker of panic in her eyes. Her hand was pressed against her own arm. She clearly took the full hit of my minor injury. “What are you talking about? My pain? What does my lack of pain have to do with you?” Her attempt at denial was transparent. I found the whole system thing unbelievable, even if she confessed. I narrowed my eyes. She quickly changed the subject. “Let’s not make things awkward. I was just worried about you.” “You care about me?” I scoffed. I believed her once, and she dragged me into a living hell. 2 In the past life, Bella didn’t just say she cared. She often bought me knee pads and wrist guards, urging me to be careful. I thought she was a true friend. I constantly bought her cupcakes and lattes. If I ever felt slightly unwell, she was the first to notice. Sometimes, when I got a minor scrape, I didn’t even notice, but she’d be frantic. She was far more ruthless than she seemed now. When I got injured, she would quickly inflict the same injury on herself. Pain was transferred instantly, but the actual wound took an hour or two to transfer. If she didn’t match the injury, I might notice the difference. To keep me in the dark, she shadowed me constantly. I soon noticed her growing belly. “Bella, you’re pregnant? What happened?” I asked nervously. She acted nonchalant. “It’s the 21st century. So what if a college student is pregnant? The government encourages it! You guys can help me raise the baby after it’s born. It’ll be easy!” The other roommates avoided her, disgusted. But I stayed, thinking of our friendship, helping her with deliveries and meals. She acted grateful, but if I got hurt, she would lecture me on being careful. I started noticing strange stretch marks on my stomach. I posted a picture online, and people said they looked like pregnancy stretch marks. I didn’t even have a boyfriend! I complained to Bella, but she dismissed it: “You’re just fat. Those are growth marks.” As her belly grew, my body developed more strange symptoms—headaches, stomach pains. At the worst times, I’d hide in bed and cry, not knowing why. The other roommates thought I was crazy. Because of the drama and Bella’s pregnancy, they all transferred dorms. Only we were left. When Bella was ready to give birth, I begged her to go to the hospital. She refused: “I’m giving birth right here in the dorm! You stay and help me. When the baby is born, you’ll be the godmother.” Thinking of our friendship, I stayed. But when labor began, I realized the horrible truth. The tearing pain was so severe I passed out. The room felt like it was crushing me. I tried to scream for help, but my mouth was covered. My phone was smashed and thrown away. I finally looked at Bella, who was holding a newborn, smiling contentedly. “Call an ambulance! Help me!” I screamed, realizing the truth. She looked at me coldly. “Call the police? So they can arrest me? So they can find out we’re linked by pain transfer? Dream on, Jenna! I’ve had enough of you!” “Pain transfer?” I whispered, linking the pieces: the phantom injuries, the unexplained relief, the stretch marks, the pain… “Yes. You bear all my injuries. I can’t risk scarring myself; I need to look perfect.” I glared at her. “Then you let me suffer? Can’t you just not have the baby?” Her eyes flashed with greed. “I can’t not have the baby. If you knew who the father was, you’d want to keep it, too.” “The doctor said I can’t have an epidural; I have to endure it. I thought I would miss this chance, but then I got this System.” “Surprised?” she sneered, kicking me hard. She instantly paled. “Crap, I forgot. I take triple the pain for your injuries.” “You have to die, or you’ll get pregnant one day and hurt me again!” Triple the pain… My eyes lit up. I knew how to fight back. I tried to hurt myself, but I was too weak. “Why me? If you’re afraid of my pregnancy, just unlink us!” “Unlink? Do you know the cost? The next person’s pain is five times the rebound. Why would I do that?” I tried to speak, but only blood poured from my mouth. Bella smiled. “Perfect timing. You’re dying. You’re useless now.” “You poor girl. You took out loans for tuition. How did you get into the same university as me?” “I made you clean the dorm, and you had the nerve to frown! People from the countryside should have that work ethic ingrained!” “Now you’re going to die. It’s a holiday weekend. No one will find you. Die in peace.” She took her baby and walked away, leaving me to bleed out. I closed my eyes in hatred. And then I woke up. 3 Triple the pain. The thought of my small act causing Bella such agony sparked an idea. I recalled disturbing online posts and a bold plan formed in my mind. I jumped out of bed. Seeing my sudden movement, Bella screamed. “Jenna, be careful! Don’t get hurt! I’ll be worried about you!” She rushed over, giving me a cookie to look concerned. I took it, eating it instantly. I pretended to agree, then grabbed a box cutter and slipped into the bathroom. I mimicked the gestures of performance artists, making superficial cuts on my wrist. Just superficial cuts. The blood flowed, but it wasn’t deep. As expected, I felt no pain. According to my last life, the wounds would vanish soon. As I made the third cut, she couldn’t take it anymore. A sharp scream came from outside the bathroom door. Bella pounded frantically. “Jenna, what are you doing! Come out!” 4 I kept working on the design. Bella shrieked outside. She couldn’t take it. I heard her collapse outside the door. I made a few more cuts, just to be sure. Then I unlocked the door. I knelt by Bella. “Bella, why are you lying on the floor? You can’t sleep here.” She slowly opened her eyes, unable to move. Her lips were white. “What were you doing inside…” I played innocent. “I was just doing a little art. I hate the color red, but I’ve fallen in love with blood.” I reached for the box cutter. Bella scrambled up, grabbing my hand. “Don’t!” “Don’t worry about me. I’m calling 911 for you.” I pulled out my phone. “Don’t call! I’m fine!” she whispered. I looked at her skeptically. Bella slowly stood up. Her left arm was limp; she didn’t dare move it. Her right hand’s nails were digging into her palm. I felt a sharp pain in my own palm. Compared to the pain of childbirth, this was nothing. I helped Bella onto her bed. She regained some color and snapped: “You’re crazy! What are you doing?” I shook my head, feigning innocence, and returned to the bathroom. Bella shrieked: “Jenna! Get out here!” But I was just cleaning up the blood. I wasn’t going to scare the other two roommates. Seeing my silence, Bella finally calmed down. She had no idea that this was only the beginning. 5 The next day, Bella wore a long-sleeved top, even though it was the peak of summer. Her strange attire drew attention. “Bella, why the long sleeves?” our roommate Amy asked. Bella quickly covered her arm. “It’s for sun protection.” I put on my own cooling sleeves. As I walked out, Bella glared at me. She followed me. When I entered the elective class, she finally confronted me. “We’re not in the same class. Why are you following me?” She immediately reached for my pockets. “I need to check you don’t have anything weird. You might hurt yourself!” The classroom was full. I raised my voice. “Are you my mother? Why are you so controlling?” Everyone stared at Bella. “Isn’t that Bella? I heard she treats her roommates like servants.” “She’s so controlling! Her roommate is so unlucky!” Bella, who cares about her image, recoiled. “Jenna, you better behave! I don’t want you doing anything weird!” She rushed out. I sat down, ignoring the pitying looks. This elective class was a joke; you just signed in and could sleep or play games. I immediately contacted a professional piercer. “I want eight piercings on my ear, some on the cartilage, and a bridge piercing. I also want a septum piercing, like Indian women.” “I want them all. No anesthesia. Make it hurt.” The piercer was skeptical. “Are you messing with me?” I explained. “I’m joining the alternative culture. Piercings are cool. Everywhere.” The piercer sighed. “Fine. You’ll sign a waiver.” I screenshotted the appointment and posted it on my school-only social media. “The world kisses me with pain.” Less than a minute later, the classroom door burst open. Bella was screaming. “Jenna! What are you trying to do!” The professor glared. “What is all this noise? Are you in this class?” Bella ignored him, rushing toward me. She grabbed my phone. “Are you sick? You can’t get piercings without permission!” The other students quickly pulled out their phones to record. I played dumb. “Why do you care if I get piercings? Bella, are you okay? You try to search me, and now you try to control my body!” Bella noticed the cameras and lowered her voice. “I’m worried about scarring! You have keloid tendencies!” “I don’t know anything about that! Give me my phone back, or I’ll call the police!” Bella returned the phone and was kicked out by the professor. Five minutes later, an anonymous post about Bella’s bizarre behavior appeared on the campus wall.

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Chapter 1 My roommate’s shirt was always soaked during freshman orientation, and it always smelled faintly of sweet peach. Seeing every guy on campus—even the wealthy class president—go wild for it, my roommate, Brooke, was thrilled. I recognized it immediately: it was the discharge from a rare form of skin cancer. I urged her to get medical help fast. My roommate called me jealous, but, uneasy, she secretly checked it out. The result was cancer. She had to undergo a double mastectomy to save her life. Without the “peach scent,” the rich class president, Brandon, who was obsessed with her, never looked at her again. Her entire cohort of admirers vanished. My roommate couldn’t handle the fall from grace. She blamed it all on me. “If you hadn’t been nosy, making your mom cut off my breasts, Brandon never would have dumped me!” She shoved me into a septic ditch and drowned me alive, laughing hysterically. Even my mother, the surgical expert who performed her operation, was dragged through a social media smear campaign, fired from the hospital, and died of depression. I opened my eyes, finding myself back on the exact day my roommate’s “peach scent” first became known. … “What is that smell? It’s amazing!” My roommate, Brooke Scott, walked into the dorm carrying a bag of snacks. She inhaled deeply, her eyes wide with excitement. “Is that a peach perfume? Or a new energy drink?” Then, she spotted the open yogurt bottle on Layla’s desk. “Smells delicious! Let me try some first!” Before Layla could say yes, Brooke grabbed the bottle and gulped down a huge mouthful. The next second, the expression on her face froze. She bent over, retching violently. “What the hell is this?! It tastes awful!” Layla rolled her eyes and muttered, “Some people wish they had some!” Brooke’s face went pale. “Layla! Are you trying to poison me?!” “If I die, I’m taking you with me!” She rushed to the bathroom, desperately trying to gag herself. Watching this familiar scene unfold, I confirmed that I had indeed been reborn. The suffocating sensation of drowning in the putrid water in my past life felt terrifyingly close. “Patrice! It’s all your fault, you jinx! If you hadn’t interfered, making your mom cut off my breasts, Brandon never would have left me! All those guys wouldn’t have avoided me!” “You ruined my chance at a rich life! You deserve to die!” The person who killed me was my roommate, Layla Reed. In my past life, I recognized that the liquid oozing from her chest, which all the boys on campus went crazy for, wasn’t some kind of innate body fragrance. It was the discharge from an extremely rare, aggressive form of breast cancer! I urged her to seek treatment immediately and had my mother, a surgical specialist, take care of her. She called me jealous but secretly went for a checkup. She was diagnosed with cancer and had to have a double mastectomy to survive. Once her ‘peach milk’ scent was gone, the rich class president, Brandon Hayes, who had been madly obsessed with her, immediately dumped her. All the guys who had hovered around her vanished without a trace. She blamed me for all of her failures and resentment. She stubbornly believed that I was jealous of the attention she got from Brandon and that I conspired with my mother to intentionally remove the source of her charm. But I’m back. I’ve returned to the exact moment her peach-scented secret was first discovered, triggering a dorm conflict. In my last life, seeing Brooke accidentally drink the “peach milk” and throw up violently. I rushed over to hold her, demanding that Layla take her to the hospital immediately, genuinely worried Brooke had been poisoned by an unknown substance. I never imagined my concern would plant a seed of hatred in Layla. And when the truth came out about her cancer, Brooke never spoke up for me once. She joined the keyboard warriors, kicking me while I was down. A cold laugh escaped me. I spoke up. “Brooke, what’s with the attitude? Layla didn’t do it on purpose.” “Besides, who told you to be a greedy pig and drink it without asking?” Chapter 2 Brooke froze, looking at me in disbelief. “She leaves this disgusting mess on the table and makes me drink it! And you’re defending her?!” “Patrice, are you crazy?” I smiled. “Brooke, you can’t talk like that. Layla said it was an accident. And anyway,” I paused, glancing at Layla’s chest, “this peach-scented body fragrance is something many people would kill for. It’s certainly better than some people’s sweaty stench, right?” Layla saw me take her side, and her eyes lit up. “Exactly! I didn’t mean to! Patrice is right, this smell is lovely!” “I think you’re just jealous of me, Brooke!” She rolled her eyes spitefully at Brooke. Brooke was completely enraged. She pointed at Layla and me. “You… you…” she stammered for a long time, unable to form a coherent curse. Finally, she stomped her foot and stormed out, covered in vomit. Seeing Brooke leave, Layla smirked and pulled something out from the back of her closet. My pupils narrowed. It was that light pink bra. It was lace-trimmed, with a slightly sexy design. I’d bought it online during my freshman year, looking for a bargain. I quickly found the underwire dug painfully and the straps were too thin. I tossed it to the bottom of my drawer and never touched it again. Now, it was in Layla’s hands. And there was a small, unmistakable pink stain on it! When I discovered this in my past life, I was sickened and confronted her, demanding why she stole my things. That fight became one of the reasons she later decided to kill me. This time, seeing her hold up the bra, she asked me coyly, “Patrice, I want to take a few photos wearing this bra and post them in the freshman group chat. What do you think?” I immediately put on the most genuine smile, exaggeratedly praising it. “That bra is perfect for you! The color, the design—it’s tailor-made for your style! It’s sexy but still innocent!” “It really highlights your best assets! If Brandon sees it, he’ll be completely hooked!” I knew she wanted to use this to attract more male attention. In my last life, she blamed me for ruining her dating prospects. In this life, I would ensure she got exactly what she wished for. Layla’s face flushed with excitement. “Really, Patrice? You think it looks good?” “Of course!” I nodded emphatically, decisive and convincing. At that moment, our other neutral roommate, Jen Wu, suddenly spoke up. “Patrice, why does that bra look like yours? Didn’t you say it was uncomfortable and put it away?” “Did Layla steal it?” Layla’s smile froze instantly. I quickly put on a sincere expression, covering for Layla. “Oh! That one! It does look similar, but mine was such cheap quality; I don’t know where I threw it. ” “The one Layla has looks much higher quality than mine! Besides, if Layla likes it, what’s the big deal if I give it to her? Good things should go to the person who suits them best, right?” The alarm in Layla’s eyes instantly turned into wild joy. She seized the opportunity, lifting her chin at Jen. “Exactly! Jen, what are you talking about? Patrice said it’s a gift!” “Besides, this bra has a big cup size. Patrice could never fill it out.” “If you talk nonsense again, you’ll regret it!” Layla rushed into the bathroom to try it on, desperate to prove Jen wrong. As she closed the door, I quickly started packing my things, planning to move out immediately. The peach-milk scent in the dorm was sickly sweet. It made me nauseous. If I stayed any longer, I’d definitely be implicated. I hadn’t even finished packing when Layla discovered me. Chapter 3 “Lana? What are you doing? You’re not moving out, are you?” Layla yanked open the bathroom door, half-emerging. She had indeed changed into the cheap underwear. The low-quality lace strained to contain her noticeably swollen chest. The straps were pitifully thin, digging into her flesh. The pink spots below her collarbone seemed more obvious under the light, like a small, spreading patch of mold. A barely perceptible tension was on her face. She was probably afraid her only ally was abandoning her. I stopped packing, my eyes shifting. I put on a look of professional awkwardness. “Well, I have a rare skin condition. It’s not serious, but I can’t risk passing it to you guys in a crowded dorm…” Layla instinctively stepped back. The tension on her face instantly shifted to alarm. “A skin condition?” “Yes,” I sighed, looking genuinely helpless. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t have to move out…” Layla quickly interrupted me. Though she pretended to be concerned, her tone screamed get out now. “Oh, you should definitely move out! Go back when you’re cured! A skin condition is serious! Your health comes first! We’ll wait for you!” I sneered inwardly. The truly sick one was standing there in stolen underwear, dreaming of seducing a rich boy. Before leaving with my luggage, I pretended to be gossipy, leaning in toward Layla, who was posing provocatively for a selfie. “Oh, by the way, I heard Brandon is planning something big!” Layla’s eyes lit up. “What? Tell me, tell me!” Jen also leaned in. I decided to keep them in suspense, saying slowly, “The guys in the dorm were talking. Brandon apparently ordered nine thousand roses! He’s going to propose to a girl!” “I bet the goddess is right here with us. After all, anyone who warrants that kind of spectacle has to have something particularly appealing, right?” I deliberately glanced at Layla’s swollen chest. Layla’s face turned crimson with excitement. She covered her mouth, her voice trembling. “Really?! Nine thousand roses?! Oh my God! It has to be for me!” “Patrice, you’re my good luck charm! I need to get ready now! I’m going to be the dazzling main character tonight!” She rushed to her closet, frantically searching for the perfect outfit. “Which one? This one’s too plain. This one doesn’t show off my figure enough. Ah! This sheer one! Paired with the bra Patrice gifted me, Brandon will definitely…” Watching her excited back, Jen gave a look of undisguised contempt, her fingers flying across her phone screen. The next second, my phone vibrated. “Are you serious? Brandon is proposing to her? With nine thousand roses? Who are you kidding? Her? The weirdo with that gross disease and whatever’s leaking out of her? Is Brandon blind?” I replied quietly. “Who knows? A crazy rich kid with a bizarre obsession and a weirdo with ‘peach milk’—they sound like a match made in heaven. Two of a kind. Let’s watch the show!” I was eager to see if, this time, without my interference, she could actually realize her dream and snag a rich boy. Chapter 4 The school’s main plaza was already packed by evening. Brandon Hayes, wearing a well-tailored white suit, walked toward Layla, who stood in a sea of flowers, holding a huge bouquet of red roses. Layla had definitely taken my advice. She wore a nearly transparent black lace camisole, with my low-quality lace bra underneath! I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but her face looked flushed, almost sickly. She was walking strangely, occasionally holding her chest, as if enduring some discomfort. The crowd roared in excitement. “Nine thousand roses! So romantic!” “Layla looks so hot tonight! Brandon is gorgeous!” Hearing the praise, Layla’s face was beaming. The pain seemed to lessen. She tilted her chin up, waiting for Brandon to approach, ready for her spotlight moment. But the obsession and eagerness on Brandon’s face froze the moment he got close to her. He smelled it. The stench emanating from Layla—a mix of sickly sweet and rotten—was nothing like the previous “peach scent.” It made sense; Layla’s condition was much worse now. And with the high temperature, how could she still smell like a mild, early-stage infection? She was actively rotting. Brandon’s facial muscles twitched. He instinctively stepped back, covering his nose. His voice held a barely concealed disgust. “What is that smell?” Layla’s smile instantly froze. She instinctively covered the increasingly dark and widespread pink stain on her chest. “I… Brandon, let me explain…” But before she could finish, something erupted from her chest. Followed by a ripping sound. The cheap, strained lace bra suddenly split open. The two bulging mounds, covered in large, dark red patches and visible subcutaneous veins, were violently exposed to everyone! Countless eyes shifted from curious envy to shock and disbelief, finally settling on a look of indescribable horror, mixed with disgust and fear! Then, under everyone’s horrified gaze, the infected areas—several extremely swollen, translucent pustules at the center of the dark red skin—began to burst sequentially! A large stream of pinkish-white fluid, mixed with clumps of pus and blood, and carrying a nauseating, potent odor of decay, violently sprayed out! The primary target was Brandon, standing closest to her! He was completely drenched, head to toe, in the scalding, foul-smelling, decaying pus! A few drops even splashed into his widely agape mouth. Brandon froze on the spot.

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Seven months pregnant, I found a hidden compartment in Philip Hayne’s study. Inside was an expired asset transfer agreement. Twenty percent of the Hayne Corporation’s shares, valued in the billions, plus three overseas manors and a private island. All of it, gifted to my stepsister, Stella Monroe. No strings attached. When Philip and I got married, all he gave me was a prenuptial agreement. “It’s a business merger, a formality,” he’d said, his tone casual. “Just sign it.” I signed. And I walked into the Hayne family with nothing to my name. Ten years of marriage, and I still don’t even know his bank account password. “Who gave you permission to be in my study?” Philip’s voice, sharp and cold as ice, cut through the silence from the doorway. I turned to face the man I had loved for fifteen years. No tears, no hysterics. Just a quiet, steady voice. “Philip. I want a divorce.” He strode into the room, snatched the papers from my hand, and threw them to the floor, the pages scattering like fallen leaves. “This is ancient history. Is it really worth making a scene over?” He didn’t even bother to explain. He just raged, telling me to get out. And so I did. I calmly left the study, picked up my phone, and made a call to the hospital. “Hello, I’d like to schedule an appointment to terminate a pregnancy for next week.” 1 The confirmation text arrived a moment later. Staring at the appointment time on the screen, a violent cramp seized my abdomen. I leaned against the bedroom wall, sliding slowly to the floor, fighting back the tears as I messaged my lawyer. His call came instantly. “Mrs. Hayne, are you absolutely certain? You want to walk away from all marital assets, with nothing?” he pressed. “Under the law, especially during a pregnancy, you’re entitled to at least…” Marital assets? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. There were no marital assets. Philip’s stock appreciation over the years was all held in proxies. Every property he owned was notarized before our wedding. My name had never once appeared on the list of beneficiaries for his family trust. He’d told me casually, the day we got engaged, that he’d never marry a woman with her hand out. That he wouldn’t give away what he’d fought so hard to build just because of a marriage certificate. At the time, I thought he was just bitter that my father had forced his hand. I knew how hard he’d battled his half-brothers, the illegitimate ones, to inherit the Hayne Corporation. So I obediently signed my name, over and over, on a thick stack of documents, waiving my rights to everything. I thought one day he would see me, truly see me, and let go of his resentment. It wasn’t until I saw that asset transfer agreement that I realized what a fool I’d been. The items on this transfer agreement matched, one for one, the list of assets I had signed away at the notary’s office all those years ago. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to share. It was just that the wife he wanted to share it with was never me. “Mr. Davies,” I cut him off, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hand. “Please prepare the divorce papers. My only condition is that I leave with nothing.” When I hung up, my hand was still shaking. Not from hesitation. From rage. Ten years of marriage. A long, elaborate con. And I had been the willing, idiotic mark for every single day of it. The password to the hidden compartment in Philip’s study was Stella’s birthday. He was willing to give Stella everything he owned, yet the credit card he gave me had a monthly limit that never exceeded five hundred dollars. Even when I was seven months pregnant, sick and dizzy from morning sickness, he was with Stella, hosting her private art exhibition. And the cruelest joke of all? I was the one who designed their love nest. Three months ago, Philip brought me the blueprints for a villa, forcing me to work despite the crippling nausea of my pregnancy. “A friend is gifting his partner a villa,” he’d said. “I need you to design it to the highest standard, as quickly as possible.” Now I see it. The “friend” was him. And the looping, ostentatious signature on the resident line, “S.M.”, was for Stella Monroe. The divorce papers arrived that evening. Mr. Davies tried one last time. “Mrs. Hayne, at least keep the money you’ve earned yourself…” I shook my head. Philip had never contributed a single cent to our household expenses. Every penny I earned went into running our home. Looking back, I suppose in his eyes, I really was cheap. As I signed my name, the baby kicked violently, as if in protest, or perhaps, in comfort. This time, I couldn’t stop the tears. I finally broke down and cried. 2 With Mr. Davies’ help, I rented an apartment that same afternoon. I wasn’t picky about the location or the size; I just needed to get out. It was eight o’clock by the time I returned to the Hayne villa. The fatigue of pregnancy made it hard to even stand upright, but I cooked one last dinner. Four dishes and a soup, all Philip’s favorites. After ten years, I knew his tastes better than my own. No matter how it ended, I wanted to part ways gracefully. Fifteen years was a long time. But Philip didn’t come home until one in the morning. He reeked of Stella’s signature perfume, and a garish smear of lipstick stained his collar. I watched him loosen his tie and noticed, for the first time, that his ring finger was bare. I don’t know when it happened, but he had taken off his wedding ring. He glanced at the untouched, cold dinner on the table, his brow furrowing in that familiar, irritated way. There was no warmth in his eyes, only undisguised impatience. “What’s with the martyr act now? You think this will make me give in?” He tossed his jacket onto the sofa and started for the stairs without a single look in my direction. “Philip,” I called out, my voice so calm it surprised even me. “The divorce papers are on the table. Sign them.” He stopped, his foot hovering over the first step. When he turned, the sarcasm in his eyes was practically dripping. “Because of some expired, useless piece of paper? Elara, when did you become so irrational?” “Your father used the fact that he saved my life to force me to marry you. I had no choice.” “Stella’s heart is weak. I just wanted to give her a blessing, a gesture, that’s all!” A blessing? A gesture? How ridiculous. Two weightless words to dismiss all my pain and suffering. I finally understood. The chasm between us for the past decade wasn’t about anything else. It was simply that he had never loved me. Fifteen years ago, on a rainy night, he was being hunted by his half-brothers. I was the one who hid him in a storage closet for three whole days. I was the one who snuck him food and medicine, nearly getting beaten to death for it. He was the one who held my hand and whispered, “Elara, wait for me. When I take control of the Hayne family, I’ll marry you with all the honor you deserve.” And he did take control, with ruthless efficiency. But he “honored” me with nothing more than a cold, calculating prenuptial agreement. “Philip,” I said, cradling my belly as I slowly pushed myself to my feet. “So you do remember that you owe me your life.” He flinched, then let out a cold laugh. “Oh, so now we’re keeping score? Fine. Name your price. How much do you want?” Name my price. A bitter smile touched my lips. The last warm corner of my heart finally turned to ice. “That won’t be necessary, Philip. I’m truly done with this relationship.” “By nine o’clock tomorrow morning, I want to see those signed divorce papers on the living room table.” I used every ounce of my strength to keep my voice from breaking. Without waiting to see his reaction, I turned and walked upstairs. Behind me, I heard the crash of something breaking and his furious, strangled roar. “Elara Thorne! You’d better not regret this!” Regret? My only regret was opening that storage closet door fifteen years ago. 3 When I came downstairs the next morning, the living room was empty. The divorce papers had been torn to shreds, scattered like confetti across the expensive, hand-woven rug. My heart seized at the sight of the confetti, then settled back into a numb calm. This was Philip’s answer, then. He wouldn’t deign to explain, but he wouldn’t let me go either. My phone screen lit up with a new message. From Stella. She had re-added me on social media about a month ago. Her first message was: Sister, long time no see! I’m back. Philip picked me up from the airport. He hasn’t changed a bit. 🙂 Since then, my phone had become a live stream of her happiness. A photo of Philip’s back as they viewed an art exhibit. A candid shot of him putting food on her plate. A picture taken from inside his car, with a deliberate shot of her slender leg… And yesterday, she sent a voice message. In the background, I could clearly hear Philip’s impatient voice on another call. “Elara? Don’t worry about her. She’s always making a big deal out of nothing. Just focus on the art.” The latest message had arrived just ten minutes ago. It was a picture. Philip, asleep in her bed, his face peaceful in profile. The bedding was a familiar star-themed set from her bedroom. The caption read: Sister, I heard you went into Philip’s study and made him angry? Sigh, that old agreement was just something he drew up to comfort me when I was sick a long time ago. It’s not valid anymore. Please don’t misunderstand. By the way, you really do look like I used to, especially your eyes. Philip said he noticed it the very first time he saw you. Oh, and how’s the baby? Philip said he hopes the baby has my eyes. A wave of cold nausea rose in my throat. I ran to the bathroom and retched violently. The morning sickness had never been this bad. I gripped the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror—pale face, red-rimmed eyes. These eyes… he liked them because they looked like hers? A fifteen-year love affair, a ten-year marriage, all born from one man’s unrequited love for another woman. And I was just the cheap, convenient substitute. The tears finally fell, hot and heavy. With a trembling hand, I replied to Stella. You always did love picking up my leftovers. You can have them. Philip included. Message sent. A second later, my phone rang. It was Philip. I didn’t answer. I declined the call and blocked his number. The world went quiet. I clutched my tightening stomach, taking deep breaths, forcing myself to be calm. This was no time for grief. I called a moving company and began to pack my things. My clothes, my design sketches, the simple kitchenware I’d bought… Everything that was mine, everything that bore my mark, I packed into boxes. As for the expensive jewelry, the gowns, the designer bags—they were all things Philip had purchased to maintain the image of “Mrs. Hayne.” I didn’t take a single one. The wedding ring I’d taken off lay on the dresser, cold and forgotten. The movers were quick. In no time, a dozen boxes were loaded onto their truck. Before I left, I took one last look at the villa I had called home for a decade. Ornate, cold, and meticulously crafted. A beautiful cage. And I was finally being set free. The new apartment was small, but it was filled with sunlight. It took me the entire day to unpack and settle in. My body ached, a dull weight pulling at my lower abdomen, but my heart felt strangely light. That evening, I received a text from an unknown number. It was Philip. Elara, come home. Now. We can pretend none of this ever happened. Stella isn’t well. Stop harassing her. And you will have this child. The Hayne bloodline cannot be abandoned. I stared at the message, a laugh bubbling up that was half sob. Even now, all he cared about was Stella’s feelings and the Hayne bloodline. My pain, my life, my death—none of it mattered. I didn’t reply. I deleted the message and blocked the new number. 4 The day before the scheduled procedure, I went to the hospital for a final check-up. In the ultrasound room, the technician squeezed cold gel onto my belly and moved the probe gently across my skin. “The baby is very healthy,” she said, pointing to the screen. “See, there’s a little hand, and there’s a foot…” The tiny figure on the screen was wiggling. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. My voice cracked. “Doctor, if I… if I go through with the induction, will the baby feel it?” The older female doctor adjusted her glasses, her expression complicated. “At this stage, a termination is very hard on the mother’s body. And yes… the baby can feel pain.” She placed her hand gently on my stomach. “Are you sure you want to give up? He seems like a very active little one.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Walking out of the examination room, I felt like I was floating. At the end of the long hospital corridor, I saw the last person I ever wanted to see. Philip. Standing there in a pristine suit, every inch the powerful CEO of the Hayne Corporation. “Come back with me,” he said, grabbing my wrist. His grip was so tight I thought the bones might snap. “Stop this nonsense.” “Nonsense?” I looked up at him. “You think this is nonsense, Philip?” “That agreement is expired and void,” he said, his voice laced with impatience. “Stella’s heart is weak, I just wanted to give her a blessing—” “So I’m just collateral damage in your epic love story?” I yanked my hand away. “Philip, do you remember our first anniversary? I had a fever of 104. You said you were too busy to come home. Later, I saw pictures on Stella’s social media of the two of you skiing in Switzerland.” “Our third anniversary. You said you had a board meeting. I saw your car in the background of one of Stella’s selfies.” “Every single one of my prenatal appointments, you said you were busy. But you had time to go to art galleries with her, buy her jewelry, celebrate every one of her birthdays.” I listed his betrayals, one by one, my voice as calm as if I were telling someone else’s story. Philip’s face finally changed. “You… you knew all along?” “I never said anything. I just kept telling myself to give you one more chance, to trust you one more time.” I smiled, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “It wasn’t until I saw that agreement that I understood what a complete and utter fool I’ve been.” He was silent. For the first time, I saw something that looked like guilt in his eyes. But it was too late. It was all far too late. “I’m going to have this baby,” I said softly. “But he will have nothing to do with you.” “From this day forward, my child and I have no connection to Philip Hayne.” With that, I turned and walked away. He didn’t follow. For the next few days, I cut off all contact with the outside world, resting in my apartment. Mr. Davies called to inform me that Philip was refusing to sign the divorce papers. “Mrs. Hayne, if you insist on a divorce, we’ll have to file a lawsuit. However, given that you’re pregnant, the court will likely push for mediation.” “Furthermore,” he added, his tone hesitant, “Mr. Hayne has made it clear that if you proceed with a lawsuit, he will use every resource at his disposal to gain full custody of the child.” I held the phone, silent for a long time. I knew he could do it. He had the money and the power. I had nothing but the baby in my womb. “Mr. Davies, how long would a contested divorce take?” “If he fights it and uses his resources, it could drag on for years.” Years? I couldn’t wait years. My child couldn’t be born into that kind of turmoil and uncertainty. I had to make Philip agree to the divorce. I had to. 5 As I was racking my brain, the doorbell rang. It was Stella, dressed in a white cashmere dress that made her look fragile and innocent. She was holding an elegant thermos. I opened the door but didn’t invite her in. “What do you want?” “Sister, I knew you’d be here.” She smiled sweetly, trying to push her way inside. “Philip was so worried about you, he asked me to check in. I brought you some bird’s nest soup. Pregnancy is hard, you need to take care of yourself.” I blocked the doorway. “Thank you, but I don’t need it. You can go.” Her smile faltered for a second before being replaced by a wounded expression. “Sister, are you still mad at me? There’s really nothing going on between Philip and me. He just looks out for me…” “Whatever is or isn’t going on between you two has nothing to do with me,” I cut her off coldly. “I’m divorcing him. Soon you can have him look out for you all you want, officially.” A flash of triumph flickered in her eyes, quickly masked by concern. “Sister, don’t be so rash! A child needs a father. Besides, Philip said he wants you to have the baby…” Her words trailed off as I snapped my head up to stare at her. “He wants me to have the baby? And then what? Give him to you to raise?” My glare seemed to startle her. She took a half-step back. “Sister, why would you think that? I just feel so sorry for the baby. If my health was better, if I could have children of my own, Philip wouldn’t have to…” She left the sentence hanging, but the unspoken words were more vicious than any blade, piercing through all my defenses. So that was it. That was why he refused to divorce me, why he was so insistent I keep this child. Because the substitute had finally become a disappointment, and his one true love was infertile. So he needed me, the woman who looked like her, to give birth to a child with her eyes, to complete their perfect little dream. A tidal wave of disgust and absurdity crashed over me. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I snatched the thermos from her hand and hurled it at her. The warm soup splattered all over her pristine dress. She shrieked and jumped back. “Get out!” I pointed at the stairs, my entire body shaking. “And you tell Philip Hayne, he wants my child? He can have him over my dead body!” Stella looked down at her ruined dress, the fragile mask finally cracking to reveal a venomous sneer. “Elara, don’t be so ungrateful! Philip wants this baby, and you are going to deliver it! Do you really think you have any choice in the matter?”

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I rushed to the ER for an emergency, only to find my ex-husband on duty. He held my chart, not even bothering to look up, and sneered coldly: “Three years later, and you still can’t find a man to hold your hand while you’re sick?” I stayed silent, staring at the ceiling, trying not to scream from the pain. He continued, “Call a family member. You need surgery, and I need to discuss the procedure with your next of kin.” “And don’t try to call me. We’re divorced.” The next day. A chart-topping pop star. A billionaire CEO. A genius Formula 1 racer. Three drop-dead gorgeous men appeared in my hospital room simultaneously. They took turns grilling him about my condition and treatment plan. His eye twitched, holding back a breakdown, his eyes rimmed red as he cornered me. “You’re telling me all three of these men are your family?!” “Yup. Does the hospital have a rule against having more than three?” 1 I took an Uber to the ER over the weekend. I never expected to run into “The Ex” working the night shift. Looking at the man in the white coat, gold-rimmed glasses, and that stoic, unsmiling face… My heart hurt worse than my abdomen. We’ve been divorced for three years. I didn’t expect our reunion to look like this. Ethan Hayes stared at the clipboard, eyes glued to the paper. He ordered me onto the exam table. Then, his long, slender fingers gently pressed against my lower abdomen. “Does it hurt here? Anywhere else? Is it a cramping pain or intermittent?” I turned my head away. I didn’t want to look at him. “It feels like my insides are being twisted.” His voice was cold, drifting down from under the bright fluorescent lights. “It’s likely appendicitis. It needs to come out. But there’s an issue…” He paused. He finally looked up, taking in my pale face. He frowned. “You’re not in good shape. I suggest surgery immediately to relieve the pain.” “Where is your current husband?” When I didn’t answer, he went back to scribbling on my chart. Finally, he looked me dead in the eye, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm. “Three years later, Maya. Did you really fail to find a single man willing to accompany you to the hospital?” I stayed silent, the pain forcing me to stare at the ceiling tiles. He scoffed. “No need to play dead. This is standard protocol. Get a family member here. You need surgery, and I need to clear the plan with them.” “And don’t try to list me. We are divorced.” I finally couldn’t hold it back. “Seriously, Ethan? Three years and you’ve only gotten more narcissistic? I’d date a literal garbage can before I’d crawl back to you.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I didn’t even get the satisfaction of seeing his face turn green. Because the pain spiked, and I passed out cold. Appendicitis isn’t a disease, but man, it hurts like hell. 2 When I woke up, I was in the inpatient ward. I could hear hushed—but not hushed enough—voices buzzing nearby. “We still can’t reach her family. She’s so pitiful. She looks young, but I saw a ring on her finger. Where’s the husband?” “Who knows? Even if she has no family, what about friends? Not a single visitor. She must be a total loner.” “Hey, I saw Dr. Hayes handle her admission personally. He seemed… weird about it. You think she’s a stalker? I heard him asking about her current husband…” “Shh! Don’t be crazy. Dr. Hayes has standards. His fiancée is that heiress, Vanessa Vance. She’s his college sweetheart. Don’t drag random patients into their fairy tale.” I couldn’t take it anymore. They weren’t whispering; they were broadcasting directly into my ear canal. Just as I was about to snap, I heard Ethan’s stern voice. “Do not gossip about patients in the ward.” Great. So he was there the whole time. He let them trash me and praise him just to stroke his ego, didn’t he? Divorced for three years, and he’s still with his “white moonlight”—his precious first love? Right. She’s the heiress he practically begged me for a divorce to be with. Thinking about that rainy night, seeing their silhouettes tangled together in the doorway… I felt bile rise in my throat. Ethan walked to my bedside, his tone flat. “If you’re worried about your family seeing me and feeling awkward, I can step aside. There are other doctors on rotation. As long as—” Suddenly, a man burst through the door, panting for air. He was dressed like he was dodging paparazzi—oversized hoodie, baseball cap, face mask. But his aura screamed “celebrity.” Every head in the room turned. “No need, Doctor. I’m family. Is it convenient to discuss my wife’s condition?” Ethan whipped around to look at the newcomer, then shot a questioning glare at me. “You remarried? This guy is your husband?” I stayed silent, tilting my head as I thought about the wording. “Family, technically. We had a ceremony by the ocean.” The masked man walked up to me. Even with the mask, his peach-blossom eyes were crinkled in a smile. He looked Ethan up and down, then extended a hand. “Hi, Dr. Hayes. I’m Maya’s husband, Jax Ryder. You can run the surgery plan by me.” Ethan sized up the man who was just as tall as him. Even hidden, those eyes were undeniably pretty. This guy was a looker. Ethan’s voice dropped a few degrees. “You’re sure you’re the husband? She came in alone yesterday and fainted. As her partner, you were notably absent.” Before Jax could reply, I jumped in to cover for him. “He’s busy. His schedule is packed. I didn’t tell him.” Ethan’s lips thinned, his expression turning ugly. “What kind of job is so busy that he can’t care about his partner’s health?” “Your taste in men has really deteriorated.” I cut him off cold. “Dr. Hayes, you’re crossing a line. We are doctor and patient. That’s it.” The next second, my hand was enveloped in a warm, desperate grip. Jax pulled down his mask. A face that graced half the billboards in Los Angeles leaned in close. “Babe, don’t be mad. It’s my fault. I’m the worst.” “I called you all night and you didn’t pick up. I finished the concert and hopped on the first flight back this morning.” “Don’t fight with Dr. Hayes. If he wants to scold me, let him. As long as he doesn’t yell at you.” Jax’s voice was dripping with “pick-me” energy. He effectively made Ethan look like a bully and himself like a tragic hero. The nurses nearly screamed. “It’s actually Jax Ryder! OMG, I watched his music variety show two days ago! He’s even hotter in person! I heard rumors he was married, but I didn’t think it was true—and his wife is right here!” The gossip volume in the room cranked up to an eleven. Ethan took a deep breath, glaring at me. “Family members cannot disturb the patient’s rest.” Jax didn’t even look up. “Then get my wife a VIP suite.” Ethan: “We’re at capacity.” Jax narrowed his eyes: “Then we transfer hospitals.” Ethan gritted his teeth: “Her condition requires immediate surgery.” Sparks flew between them. The tension was thick enough to choke on. Even the nurses sensed the vibe shift. “Dr. Hayes… you seem really invested in this patient. Are you friends?” “No.” Ethan denied it instantly. 3 Hearing that denial, Jax slowly turned his head. His pretty eyes instantly filled with tears. “Boo-hoo… Wifey, is it terminal? Are you dying? Is that why you hid it from me? Did you want to break up to save me pain? I won’t allow it! We have money. We can cure anything.” “No, we’re going to Switzerland. If they can’t cure you, I’ll go with you. Romeo and Juliet style.” Seeing that he was already writing a tragic screenplay in his head, I stiffly pushed his face away. “Check your brain first. It’s appendicitis.” He blinked, tears still shimmering, and threw himself into my arms, hugging me tight. “Just appendicitis? Bad appendix! Evil appendix! I’m never talking to an appendix again!” Fighting the pain, I pinched the soft flesh at his waist. “Jax, if you don’t stop acting like a toddler, get out.” Jax had satisfied his drama quota. The nurses were practically vibrating. “He’s so handsome… honestly, he might be hotter than Dr. Hayes. And he’s so cute! They’re so in love!” Dr. Hayes, the subject of comparison, stared at Jax’s hands wrapped around me. His gaze was frigid. He dropped a stiff sentence before walking away. “Come to my office later. I need to explain the afternoon surgery.” Once Ethan was gone, Jax smirked and whispered in my ear. “Scared off the Ex-Husband. Mission accomplished.” I rolled my eyes. “So what? You better stop taking advantage of me.” I peeled his hands off my waist. Jax sat on the stool, looking wronged as he peeled an apple for me. “As your husband, am I not allowed a little touchy-feely?” I stared at the man before me and whispered a correction. “Accurately speaking, we are in a contractual relationship.” Jax’s eyes, bright as stars, shimmered. He looked like he was about to cry again. “Oh. So you really just treat me as a Contract Shifter, not a man?” 4 I rubbed my temples, looking at him. My Contract Shifter No. 1: Jax Ryder. Identity in the human world: Idol singer, debuted three years ago. He blew up overnight because of his ethereal looks and clean vocals, though he insists he’s a “serious artist.” In this world, Shifters (Beastmen) coexist with humans. But ordinary people don’t know they exist. Only a few researchers and elite families are in on the secret. My family has a… tradition. If a woman from our bloodline doesn’t have a mate by the time she’s an adult, the Family arranges three Shifters to bind to her. In plain English: If you’re 25 and single, the Family forcefully assigns you a harem of three male Shifters. They look human and have human identities. But they are bound to you. Initially, it’s a Servant Contract. Once you pick one, you can upgrade it to a Lover’s Contract. Naturally, all the males want the Lover’s Contract. A Shifter under a Servant Contract has no autonomy over their life or death. But with a Lover’s Contract? They live and die with their human. If the human dies, they die. Jax was assigned to me three years ago, right after I divorced Ethan. I knew exactly what he was doing. He’s still stuck in the Servant Contract. He’s trying to butter me up to get the upgrade. I pinched his smooth cheek with a fake smile. “If an Idol dates, his career implodes. Don’t you have any professional ethics?” “I’m a singer, not just a pretty face. My agency doesn’t ban dating. Besides… if you sign the Lover’s Contract with me, I’ll quit everything. I’ll stay home and raise the kids.” Jax said it jokingly, but his tone carried a terrifying hint of sincerity. I looked away. “Cough. I’m thirsty. Get me some water.” Jax trotted off obediently. While he was gone, nurses kept peeking in. Worried that paparazzi would catch wind of Jax and his fans would come for my head, I asked Ethan to move me to a private room. Being surrounded by people recovering from hemorrhoid surgery wasn’t exactly private. But Ethan rejected me cold. “No single rooms available. Stay or transfer.” “By the way, surgery is at 1:00 PM.” Great. He is 100% holding a grudge. Petty ex. He’s allowed to chase his Heiress First Love, but I can’t have a hot pop star boyfriend? If my other two Shifters showed up, he’d probably explode. Jax, being a busy guy, insisted on waiting until my surgery was over. His assistant had called ten times. He had a variety show recording at the local TV station tonight. The lead surgeon was Ethan. He wore a blue mask and surgical cap, revealing only his sharp brows and nose. Right before the anesthesia hit, he started “casual” small talk. “Is he good to you?” The OR went silent. He continued, pretending not to care. “A job like his… he must be busy. Can he eat dinner with you every Friday? Does he watch a movie with you every week?” My mouth twitched. “Do I have to answer that, Doctor?” Ethan’s hazel eyes dimmed. “Just chatting. Do you want coconut chicken soup later?” I almost lost it. Bro, I’m getting my appendix removed. You’re oscillating between jealous ex and catering service? I wanted to ask if he’d been possessed. But the anesthesia hit. Everything went black. Vaguely, I remembered what he meant. I chased Ethan five years ago. He was just an intern then. I used every trick in the book, pestering him until I got his number, then aggressively pursuing him for three months. I finally turned him into my boyfriend. Two years later, we got the marriage license. His job meant he was busy. But every week, he made time to eat with me. We’d walk home, pick a movie. When I fell asleep halfway through, he’d gently carry me to bed. How long did those happy days last? Less than a year and a half… When did the fighting start? I forgot. I just remember realizing Ethan didn’t love me. There’s a saying: “Women chasing men is easy, like breaking through a veil.” But between Ethan and me… there was a wall. His “First Love.”

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After high school graduation, everyone in my class bet $\$10,000$ that I would fail to lose weight. Only my childhood best friend, Leo Blackwood, threw down the keys to a limited-edition supercar, betting that I would slim down: “Thirty cars. If you win, they’re your dowry.” Filled with joy, I lost 40 pounds in a month, ready to confess my feelings to him. But then I overheard him joking with the school’s queen bee, Scarlett Holmes: “Marry a fat pig? Me? I’d marry you sooner.” “Lose weight? She’s lazy and greedy. She’ll fail for sure.” I gripped my skirt tightly, finally understanding. The so-called bet was just a game he played to show off in front of Scarlett—he never believed in me. I didn’t argue or make a scene. I just quietly changed the college I had originally planned to attend. Three days later, at the graduation party. As I walked past, my best friend suddenly grabbed my wrist: “Chloe Vance?” “Is that you, Chloe?” 1 A month ago. Leo tossed down the car keys, betting I would lose weight, embarrassing everyone else. But now, separated by a door. His voice was casual, teasing Scarlett: “Our big school queen is dressed up so beautifully. Going out on a date?” “With whom? Why not switch and go with me?” “How can I date you?” Scarlett laughed sweetly. “Aren’t you supposed to use thirty sports cars as a dowry for Chloe?” She giggled innocently: “She’d kill me.” “Only a little dummy like you would take that seriously.” Leo laughed lightly, his tone indulgent: “It was a joke. How could I seriously marry a fat pig?” “Forget my old man vetoing it.” “There’s no way I’d agree. Geez, she’d crush me just sitting on me.” He paused, sounding regretful: “Marry you? Now that’s another story.” Scarlett said something else. But I couldn’t hear it anymore. The hand grasping the doorknob instinctively recoiled. My head buzzed. I was freezing, trembling all over. In my ears. Leo kept talking: “She’s lazy and greedy. She’ll fail to lose weight for sure.” “And no matter how much she slims down, she definitely won’t be one-tenth as good as you.” That one sentence. Made Scarlett ecstatic. She feigned modesty, chiding him helplessly: “Big shot, that’s going too far.” “Chloe is still my sister, don’t bully her like that.” Leo countered: “Am I wrong?” “You two sisters really are heaven and earth.” “If Chloe was one-tenth as good as you…” He sighed deeply, murmuring: “She wouldn’t have such a terrible reputation in class.” ________________________________________ 2 I stood frozen behind the door. The sadness in my heart was unbearable. Why did I have a bad reputation? I was even-tempered, gentle, and had always gotten along well with everyone. Until Scarlett transferred to our class. She was my dad’s illegitimate daughter from outside. And she was two years older than me. Seven days after my mother passed away, my father brought Scarlett and her mother home. That’s how fast it happened. For those two reasons alone, it was impossible for me not to dislike her. At the time, Leo stood with me, equally outraged, defending me: “Your dad must have lost his mind.” “Damn it, the mistress’s kid should be treated like a rat and shunned by everyone.” He was self-righteous and serious: “Don’t worry, leave it to me.” “I’ll teach her a harsh lesson for you.” I didn’t want to be a school bully. Leo promised he wouldn’t. But behind my back, he found people to rip up Scarlett’s homework. He encouraged other girls to group up and isolate her. He cornered her in the restroom and slapped her several times. I didn’t know that everyone was secretly saying I was bullying Scarlett. Saying I was excessive, disgusting, and deserved to go to hell. Leo knew. But he didn’t tell me. Instead, he continued to secretly pull Scarlett’s ponytail and snap her bra strap. Calling her a ‘little green tea’ constantly. He enjoyed every minute of it. Now, listening to their conversation. I finally knew the truth. But— It was too late. ________________________________________ 3 “She bullied you so badly back then.” Outside the door, Leo said with a cheeky grin: “This is just what she deserves.” Scarlett teased him: “You’re so naughty.” Leo was unconcerned: “What’s wrong with stringing her along, letting her live in her own world, and just stay fat?” In the room. I stared blankly at myself in the mirror. Slim limbs, flat stomach. A world of difference from a month ago. The memory of the bet flashed in my mind. Leo smiled, messed up my hair, his eyes warm: “Our little Chloe will definitely lose weight.” “You’ll slap everyone in the face when you do.” Losing 40 pounds in a month. Honestly, it was hard and exhausting. I woke up at 5 a.m. every day to run, strictly following 20+4 intermittent fasting. I was so hungry I felt dizzy, seeing stars. What I wanted wasn’t just a healthy, attractive body. Leo and I had been inseparable childhood friends for so many years. For a long time after my mom died. I was out of control, sinking into self-destruction, hating any interaction with people. Only Leo. He tolerated all my bad tempers. He gently coaxed me to take my medication on time. When I gained weight from the side effects of the meds, he patiently said: “I don’t need you to have a great figure.” “I just want you to be healthy and safe.” “Be good, take your meds. When you’re better, if you want to lose weight, I’ll join you, okay?” Over the years. My heart had been completely, unconsciously filled by Leo. So, after slimming down, I wanted to confess to him. I wanted to tell him: Thank you for believing in me. That was my biggest motivation this past month. Now that I’m thin, can I love you? I wanted to tell him: Thank you for walking through those long, formative years with me. Let’s keep walking forward together in the future. But at this very moment, I could only clutch my skirt, utterly helpless. The person in the mirror looked like she was crying. Over a month of effort. Carefully applied makeup. A beautiful dress I had never worn before. All felt like a bad joke. Hurt, miserable, wronged. Tears fell like broken strings of pearls. They soaked my eye corners, blurring the slightly winged eyeliner. My makeup was ruined. I thought I would storm out and slap Leo hard. Savoring his shock and surprise. But I didn’t. I simply straightened my back, staring at myself in the mirror for a moment. Telling myself not to cry. It wasn’t pretty. ________________________________________ 4 In the evening, I went to the living room to pour water, still wearing loose, oversized long sleeves and pants. With a cap and a mask on. My whole body was completely covered. For the past month, I had dressed this way to surprise Leo. “Oh, do you think you’re a big celebrity? Dressed like that at home, hiding from the paparazzi?” Behind me, Scarlett stood on the stairs. Arms crossed, she looked down at me, sneering: “Hiding your fat means you think you succeeded in losing weight? You’ve got some serious ‘Ah Q Spirit.’” “But what’s the point?” She suddenly leaned closer and lowered her voice: “Sister sees you trying your hardest but still not losing much weight.” “Why not give up early?” “It’s a shame you weren’t home this afternoon.” “You missed your little best friend saying you wouldn’t be one-tenth as good-looking as me, even if you did lose weight.” “Some people are so pathetic, easily manipulated by a man’s sweet talk.” “It’s hilarious, heh.” Yes. Scarlett had long figured out my feelings for Leo. She was doing this on purpose. For her, taking my family and my dad wasn’t enough to settle the score for the one time I called her mom a mistress when she first moved in. Plus, I had ‘bullied’ her. “Who’s the one being manipulated by a man’s sweet talk?” I smiled: “I didn’t rip up your homework.” “I didn’t find people to corner you.” “I didn’t slap you.” “Who was it? So hard to guess, right?” But I didn’t expect Scarlett’s face to only pale for a moment. It quickly returned to normal. “Does it matter who did it?” “You should worry about yourself. You don’t have a place in this house, and you won’t have Leo to back you up anymore.” She gloated: “Watch your step.” “Or maybe be a good girl and call me ‘Sister.’ I’ll spoil you then.” I unconsciously gripped the cup tighter. I couldn’t help turning back and fighting back: “You’re seeking shelter in a collapsed building.” “Is Leo plated with diamonds? Does everyone have to like him?” “You two idiots fighting each other’s battles are made for each other.” “Wish you two 99 years of happiness. Don’t ever mention me, okay?” Scarlett was stunned for a moment. Her expression grew uglier. Until my dad came out to support her: “Is that how you talk to your sister? What kind of attitude is that?” “Is she wrong? After all this dieting, what results do you have?” “You’re still dressed like a pig, too ashamed to show your face?” “Get back to your own room.” ________________________________________ 5 My heart ached so much I could barely breathe. They weren’t like this in the beginning. When I gained weight uncontrollably because of the medication. My father stroked my head, comforting me: “It’s better for a young girl to put on some meat to look better.” Leo pinched my cheek and said: “What’s wrong? You’re cute like this.” But now, they had all changed. They all favored Scarlett. I stopped crying, removed my makeup. Hugging my mother’s photo, I fell into a heavy sleep. Until my phone rang. “My dear, fighting with the little green tea again?” On the other end. Leo chuckled hoarsely: “You know she’s like that. Why bother getting upset with her?” “You two are sisters, after all. No need to make such a fuss.” A fuss? I gripped the phone, laughing at myself. Leo clearly knew her mother stole my father. He clearly knew she was two years older. He clearly knew I was gentle. And never the one to start trouble. “If you argue with her, you’ll only lose face.” He softly coaxed me: “Don’t be angry. The takeout I ordered for you just arrived.” “How is it? Doesn’t it smell good?” Inside the package, the pan-fried chicken skin was golden and fragrant. It was my favorite thing to eat. “Losing weight is tough. Let’s just stop. No need to suffer.” “The little green tea was the one who said you haven’t eaten much lately and are starving yourself skinny. See? She cares about you.” “Let’s be the bigger person and apologize to her, and call it even?” “I’ll drive to pick up both of you for the graduation party tomorrow night.” “Leo.” My temples throbbed. I closed my eyes to steady myself. When I opened them, I interrupted him, saying word by word: “Scarlett is disgusting.” “And you are ten thousand times worse than she is.” On the other end, Leo’s breathing hitched, noticeably heavy. He asked in a low voice: “Chloe, what do you mean by that?” “I’m trying to console you after you argued with the little green tea. Why are you randomly taking it out on me?” “What is wrong with you?” He wasn’t tired of acting, but I was tired of watching. It was pointless. Truly pointless. I hung up, leaving him with one word: “Idiot.”

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One second, my online girlfriend had just sent me $5,200. Her voice was sweet and soft. “Anything you want, baby. Just buy it.” The next second, a stunningly beautiful woman swept my legs out from under me, and I landed flat on my face. Her eyes were filled with disgust, her voice cold enough to freeze hell over. “Get out. Don’t even think about touching me. I have a boyfriend.” Holy crap. I thought I was about to meet my maker. 1 The moment the plane landed, my phone exploded with messages. Baby, why aren’t you answering? Talk to me, please don’t ignore me. I smiled at the GIF of a fluffy kitten rubbing its face against the screen. My heart melted. I’m here, babe! Just landed in Westport! I replied, dropping a pin of my location. Almost instantly, a voice message came through. Her sweet voice was laced with a mix of concern and adoration. “Baby, why did you come by yourself? I was going to pick you up tomorrow. Was the flight exhausting?” “I wanted to surprise you,” I cooed back. “And I know you’re busy with work.” Hearing her chuckle on the other end made my ears burn. A second later, a notification chimed. Ten thousand dollars has been deposited into your account. “Buy whatever you want,” she said. “Don’t you dare try to save my money.” I loved it when she played the bossy rich girl. This was my online girlfriend. We met on an international social media app. She’d teased me for eating instant noodles every day, and we just clicked. I’m an art student, and one time I casually complained about how expensive and hard to find good supplies were overseas. Less than a week later, a complete set of top-of-the-line, imported art materials arrived at my door. I’m scared of the dark, so every night she’d call and tell me stories in a soft, gentle voice until my breathing evened out and I was just about to fall asleep. My heart was bursting with pink, fluffy clouds as I dragged my suitcase to the new boutique hotel my sister, Barb, had just opened. The front desk manager recognized me and handed me a keycard with a smile. “Mr. Chen, your sister left instructions. This is for the penthouse suite. Please, go on up and get some rest.” I was too giddy about finally meeting my girlfriend to pay much attention. I grabbed the card and headed for the top floor. Now that school was out, I was back in the country, ready to meet the sweet, adorable girl I’d fallen for. The door beeped open. I tossed my suitcase inside, but before I could even take in the ocean view I’d been dreaming of, the door behind me was pushed open again. I assumed it was my sister. Grinning, I turned to jump into her arms. “Barb!” The hug I expected never came. My wrist was seized in an iron grip. A sharp, skillful force hit my ankle, and my world spun. A gasp caught in my throat. Thump. I landed hard, face-first on the plush carpet. “Huh?” I was completely dazed. I looked up, tears welling in my eyes. A tall woman, at least five-foot-nine, stood over me in a simple black dress. She looked down at me with cold, sharp eyes. Her face was stunningly beautiful, in an aggressive, “don’t mess with me” kind of way. “Get out,” she said, her voice laced with a lethal dose of contempt. “Who gave you the nerve to try and climb into my bed?” My head was spinning. “Who are you? This is my room!” “Your room?” She laughed as if it were the funniest joke she’d ever heard. Just then, Barb burst in, stopping dead when she saw me on the floor and the goddess of death standing over me. “Barb!” I scrambled behind her like she was my savior. “She pushed me! Avenge me!” Barb shielded me, giving the woman an awkward smile. “Hera, it’s a misunderstanding! This is my little brother, Leo! This is Hera, a… a good friend.” I clung to Barb’s arm. “The front desk said this was my room!” Barb smacked her forehead. “Oh, you little disaster! The front desk messed up. Your room is next door. I have your keycard!” She pulled out another keycard. I looked at the card in her hand, then at the one I’d used to open this room, and my brain short-circuited. I found out later that because it was peak season, Barb had last-minute given the penthouse to her VIP guest, Hera. She’d told the front desk to “put my brother next door,” but in the rush, they’d never updated the system and gave me the master keycard for the suite. Barb dragged me out of the room, her heart still pounding. “Leo, for the love of God, do not mess with her. That’s Hera Seimetz, of the Westport Seimetzs. She’s rich, powerful, and has a temper that could curdle milk. She’s been raised to take over the family empire, and she’s like this with everyone. Pissing her off is like kicking a hornets’ nest.” I rubbed my sore knee. “So what if she decides to come after me?” Barb sighed, then rolled her eyes at my hopeful expression. “What, you want me to be your human shield? Not a chance.” But seeing my reddened knee, she stuck her chin out. “But if she really tried to hurt you, I’d… I’d definitely have a word with her!” Then she muttered, “You’re lucky, though. She’s been in an online relationship recently. Spends all day giggling at her phone. She probably doesn’t have time to deal with you.” I thought of my own gentle, sweet girlfriend. Thank God my girl was nothing like this Hera. 2 That evening, Barb hosted a dinner to welcome Hera and to help me recover from the shock. The private room was filled with a few other impeccably dressed young women, and the conversation revolved around “mergers” and “valuations.” The atmosphere was tense. I shrank in my seat, trying to be invisible. Hera sat at the head of the table, looking distracted, her long fingers constantly tapping her phone. I snuck a glance at her. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, like my girlfriend’s, but mine was much softer, sweeter. Thinking of her made me miss her. I instinctively reached for my pocket. Empty. Where was my phone? Barb called it for me. A familiar ringtone echoed from… Hera’s room next door. I swallowed hard. “I think I left my phone in her room.” We had just stepped out of the private room when we ran into Hera, who was returning from a call. Barb quickly explained. Hera’s icy gaze swept over me. “Don’t think you can get my attention with such a pathetic excuse. I have a man.” What kind of man would be into a woman this intense? Blood rushed to my head. I forced down my anger and stepped forward with a sycophantic smile. “I’m so sorry, it was my mistake. Could you please just open the door? I’ll grab my phone and be right out of your way.” She snorted but reluctantly swiped her card and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. I hurried in and spotted my phone on the coffee table. As I picked it up, my eyes fell on her open laptop. The chat window at the top of the screen had a familiar username. The last message was the “goodnight” GIF I’d sent last night. My world tilted. I grabbed my phone and fled. The screen was lit up with dozens of missed calls and unread messages. The latest notification was from ‘My Darling Wife.’ On impulse, I answered. “Hello, baby.” At the exact same moment, an identical, anxious voice came from behind me. “Baby, why did you finally answer? You scared me to death.” I froze, my blood turning to ice. The voice on the phone continued, “Sweetheart? Why aren’t you talking? Where are you? I’ll come find you.” My mind was a complete blank. I stumbled back to my own room, my voice trembling. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just not feeling well. I’m going to sleep.” “Where are you? I’m coming over.” The voice on the phone and the voice at the door synced up again. “Don’t!” My heart was hammering against my ribs. “It’s nothing! Just jet lag! I’ll be fine after some sleep!” I hung up before she could say another word and sent a quick “goodnight” GIF. I was so screwed. This terrifying, aggressive woman who’d sent me flying was the same sweet, gentle girl who’d lulled me to sleep, patiently tutored me, and sent me money without a second thought? My perfect online girlfriend?! My world was ending. 3 I barely slept a wink. The next morning, I finally forced myself to open our chat. A new flood of messages from Hera had come in. Baby, are you awake? Please talk to me. Did I do something wrong? We can talk about it. Above that was a long, rambling apology, explaining how some random guy had barged into her room yesterday and she’d pushed him away. She emphasized that she was a “woman of virtue,” “chaste and pure as the driven snow.” At the very top was another ten-thousand-dollar transfer, with the note: If you’re not feeling well, go to the doctor. Don’t suffer in silence. My feelings were a tangled mess. It was true she’d maintained her “virtue” when she didn’t know who I was, but she’d been so rough, and that fall had hurt. And seeing how cold she was in person, I knew a real-life relationship was doomed. I could already imagine her scathing insults and vicious sneer when she found out it was me. No way. I could not let her find out. If I couldn’t beat her in real life, I could at least break her heart online. I changed into a white casual suit, found Barb, and took a selfie with my arm around her, making sure only our shoulders and arms were visible against a blurred background. Then I sent it to my online girlfriend. Sorry. My ex came to find me, and we got back together. Let’s cancel our meeting tomorrow. I wish you all the best. After sending it, I looked at the ten-thousand-dollar transfer, accepted the money, then blocked and deleted her. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine! She could afford it. It was a dirty move, but it would be effective. Goodbye, my online love. What a disaster. 4 I put on my jacket and swaggered out the door. As I opened it, I saw Hera standing across the hall, looking utterly devastated. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red, and a dark cloud of gloom hung around her. I felt a pang of guilt and quickly looked down, trying to slip away unnoticed. She didn’t seem to see me. She closed her door, and I heard a dull thud from inside, like something falling. My heart lurched. She wasn’t going to do something stupid, was she? I immediately called Barb. Barb rushed over and swiped her keycard. I peeked around the doorframe. Hera was sitting on the carpet, leaning against the sofa. Her long hair was disheveled, her arms hung limply at her sides, and her expression was one of pure despair. An overturned glass and a puddle of water were next to her. There was a smear of blood on her fingertips, probably from a shard of glass. Her phone screen was still on, stuck on our chat history. Barb was frantic. “Hera! What are you doing? It’s too early to be this dramatic! Did your online boyfriend dump you?” Hera’s body stiffened, and the atmosphere grew even heavier. Barb was heartbroken for her. “I told you online dating was a bad idea! He was probably some creepy old man trying to scam you.” You’re the creepy old man! Your whole family… wait, you’re the only creepy old man in your family! “He’s not!” Hera’s reaction was explosive. She grabbed Barb’s collar, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that! He’s the most handsome, most adorable little prince in the entire world!” She let go and slumped back against the sofa, her voice thick with emotion. “He must have had a good reason to lie to me… He wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and today he breaks up with me… It must be something he can’t handle on his own…” Hiding by the door, my heart softened into a puddle. Even after being “cheated on,” she was still making excuses for me. Barb had a sudden epiphany. “I get it! He must have a terminal illness and doesn’t want to be a burden, so he made up a story to push you away! It’s just like in the movies!” Hera’s eyes lit up for a second, then quickly dimmed, replaced by panic. “No, I have to find him. Barb, I don’t care what it takes. I want all his information. Now! Immediately!” I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Both of them turned to look at me. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Um, Hera, do you even know his name?” Hera froze, her face flushing with embarrassment. “No… We met on an overseas app. I just know he’s studying abroad.” “Do you know what he looks like?” Hera looked even more ashamed. “He only ever sent one picture of his back… But I know he’s the most beautiful boy in the world.” I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thank God I never sent a picture of my face. “So you know nothing about him. How are you going to find him?” I shrugged. “Besides, maybe he was just playing around.” She shot me a death glare, then turned to Barb. “I really, really want to throw your brother out a window.” Barb quickly pushed me away. “Go on, little man, stop causing trouble. Go find your friends.” Great. Kicked out again. That little bit of guilt vanished into thin air. 5 I spent the day hanging out with my friends, but there was still an empty feeling in my stomach. I probably just hadn’t eaten enough. That night, I decided to guilt-trip my sister into buying me dinner. When I called, the sound of blaring music nearly deafened me. “Leo! I’m at a bar with Hera! She’s heartbroken, clinging to a bottle like it’s a life raft.” “I was hoping some cute guy would hit on her and cheer her up, but when a guy from the next table tried, she just flashed her phone screen at him and said, ‘I have a boyfriend, leave me alone.’ Tsk, talk about loyal!” I hesitated for a moment, then headed over. Hera was sitting alone in a corner booth, surrounded by empty bottles. Her face was flushed, her eyes unfocused, and she was mindlessly stroking the picture on her lock screen. My heart was in my throat. She drunkenly stood up, grabbed a bottle, and stumbled toward the exit. I instinctively reached out and caught her. As we got closer, the strong smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of gardenias filled the air. She tried to push me away, her voice slurring. “Get off! Don’t touch me!” The movement was so forceful it pulled my jacket zipper down. I lost my temper. “Fine! Only a blind person would fall for a psycho like you anyway!” I turned to leave, fuming. My jacket was open, revealing the white casual suit underneath. Time stood still. Hera’s gaze traveled up from my chest and locked onto my face. Her expression shifted rapidly from confusion to shock to disbelief. She stared at me for a long time, her voice hoarse. “I should have known it was you.” My mind went blank. Crap! Busted! My reflexes took over. I pointed behind her. “Look, a UFO!” Then I turned and ran for my life.

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Ten years after high school graduation, an old photo of me and my first love went viral online. In the picture, we were in our school uniforms, fingers interlocked, smiling brightly at the camera. Smitten netizens started searching for us, only to be disappointed. We had broken up amicably years ago. He became the youngest rising star on Wall Street. I was forced to return to my hometown, working odd jobs to pay off debts, just another ordinary person struggling to survive. Aside from one class reunion, our lives never intersected again. That night, an anonymous question trended: “How are things with your high school sweetheart now?” A familiar username caught my eye— His answer was a single, cold sentence: “Seeing her doing poorly puts my mind at ease.” 1 My gaze lingered on those words for a long time. I was the one who helped Julian register this account back in the day. I even picked the username. And the profile picture was of our matching promise rings. The internet sleuths quickly identified him and pushed his comment to the top. “Holy crap, the guy from the photo showed up.” “Bro, you’re successful now, no need to be so petty, right?” “Didn’t you guys break up peacefully? Why the animosity?” Julian didn’t reply again. It was as if he couldn’t be bothered to explain a past relationship. I didn’t comment either. Holding my phone, I silently liked his comment. 2 The photo’s popularity lasted longer than I expected. Soon, media outlets reached out for interviews. No face reveal, just three questions. But they offered $3,000. I didn’t refuse. “How do you feel seeing that photo?” The host asked gently, “Do you have any regrets?” “No,” I said honestly. If not for this photo popping up out of nowhere, I hadn’t thought of Julian in a long time. A high school crush, no matter how deep, is hard to remember for a lifetime. Especially when I’m working 18 hours a day for corporate overlords. I don’t have time for nostalgia. “What was the specific reason for the breakup?” I was silent for a moment. “I gave him up for my future.” The host paused, instinctively asking, “Do you regret it?” I shook my head without hesitation. “Last question,” the host’s voice softened. “You both attended the class reunion last year.” “Did you speak to each other?” My heart trembled. 3 Last year, Julian came back to town. It coincided with our high school’s centennial celebration. He was invited and casually donated five million dollars. The class reunion was held around the same time. Halfway through the dinner, Julian pushed the door open. The big shot arrived, and the whole room cheered. Only I sat in the corner, feeling like I was on pins and needles. Without the school uniform, the boyishness had faded from him. Standing there with ease, his slightly smiling gaze swept calmly over everyone. Unreadable. Julian had other engagements and didn’t stay long. He symbolically drank a few glasses, didn’t even glance my way, paid the bill, and left. The dinner ended early. I found my electric scooter outside, wanting to deliver a few more takeout orders. It rained heavily that night. Rushing to deliver an order that was about to be late, I turned left before the red light and accidentally hit a car going straight. Seeing the Bentley logo, my heart went cold. The car door opened. Julian stepped out with an umbrella. “How are you driving? This is a straight lane; you’re fully responsible for turning. A scratch on a car this expensive means a full repaint at the factory, tens of thousands in repairs…” The driver looked at the scratched paint, furious and trying to deflect blame. A few steps away, Julian leaned lazily against the car, well-dressed, expression cold. His gaze swept over me occasionally, devoid of emotion. I apologized profusely. Desperately bowing my head, burying my remaining dignity under the heavy, oversized helmet. “What happened?” A pleasant female voice hit my ears. There was a third person in the car. A woman lifted her skirt and jumped out. Seeing my disheveled state, she frowned impatiently. “Mr. Rhodes, forget it. Don’t waste time on this small matter.” Julian didn’t speak. He lowered his eyes silently, lost in thought. The woman’s voice revealed a hint of difficulty: “You have to take me home to meet your parents tonight. If we waste time on this, what about your parents?” The sound of rain was clear. Then someone seemed to laugh. Julian looked at me, his tone cold and mocking: “Yeah, what about them?” 4 I was dazed for a moment. “What about them?” or rather, “What do I do?” I used to ask Julian this question all the time. What do I do if I can’t finish my homework? What do I do if I fail the exam? What do I do if the corner store is out of popsicles? Julian would laugh and mercilessly tap my forehead: “Mia, can you not survive without me?” It seemed so. Julian and I met in kindergarten and had never been apart. Whenever I encountered a problem, my first reaction was to find him. Because he would always fix it for me in the end. Before we broke up, I had never tied my own shoelaces. Julian often called himself my excellent manservant. Mine alone. Classmates joked that I was a keychain on Julian’s backpack. He took care of me wherever he went. Julian didn’t deny it. He just held my hand in his, playing with it while looking down. Thinking of something, he sighed softly: “Mia, actually, if we separate…” “I’m the one who won’t be able to survive.” 5 The woman speaking was named Sophie. She was Julian’s secretary and had been with him for years. Thanks to her, Julian not only didn’t make me pay but also arranged for the driver to take me to the hospital for a checkup. I breathed a sigh of relief. I have a sister who just started middle school this year. School is expensive, and it’s time to spend money. My mom’s health isn’t good; she’s always running to the hospital. After working for a few years, my savings were meager. Going into debt now would be adding frost to snow. While waiting for the checkup results at the hospital, the driver gossiped with a friend nearby: “Yeah, Mr. Rhodes took Secretary Sophie back to his hometown to meet his parents.” “Former colleague, future boss’s wife… sigh, some people are just lucky. Both from humble beginnings, but she’s about to fly up the branch and become a phoenix.” “It’s sudden though. I could tell Secretary Sophie liked Mr. Rhodes, but because of his first love, he never looked at other women… I don’t know how he accepted it.” “Yeah, maybe he moved on.” I got home very late that night. Exhausted, I fell asleep immediately. In my dream, I went back to the year after high school graduation. The acceptance letters arrived. I got into D University. It was in the south, while Julian’s school was in the north, thousands of miles apart. But getting into the same university was our goal since the beginning of senior year. Our SAT scores were only a few points apart. Without any accidents, we could have easily gotten into the same school. “How did this happen, Mia?” Julian’s eyes were red as he forced a smile: “You must have slipped when filling out the form, right? It’s okay. I’ll take a gap year and reapply. I’ll go to D University as your junior. It’s better than being apart for four years.” How could I have slipped? We checked each other’s applications repeatedly, terrified of making a mistake and being separated. I pulled my hand away and stepped back: “Stop lying to yourself.” Contrary to his pain, I was calm, almost cruel: “I changed my application on purpose.” The tall figure in my peripheral vision went pale instantly: “Why?” “To get away from you.” “Julian, I approached you just because I wanted you to tutor me and improve my grades.” “The person I really like is the class president next door. He got into D University with me. I lied to you until today because I was afraid you’d cling to me and fight for the limited spots.” “Julian, I beg you, don’t reapply to find me. Let me go.” I lowered my eyes: “I really don’t like you.”

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1 During a critical sting operation, my mom wouldn’t stop blowing up my phone. I was hidden in a van near the suspect’s house, and I’d been on a stakeout for six hours. Suddenly, my phone screen lit up, and the ringtone shattered the silence. I scrambled to hit the mute button but accidentally bumped the horn, letting out a short honk. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. If I spooked the suspect, tonight’s entire operation would be a bust. Captain Miller spared me a glance amidst his busy schedule. Seeing “Mom” on the caller ID, he lowered his voice: “Don’t panic. Go take the call. Jones and I will keep watch.” Jones frowned and whispered, “Careful not to blow our cover.” Grateful, I slipped out of the van and hid in a corner, whispering with a hint of annoyance: “Mom, I told you I have an important mission today. Why are you calling?” My mom rambled on the other end: “Your cousin Sarah is getting married next month. What gift should I get her? I can’t decide.” “Huh? Mom, I don’t have the bandwidth for this right now. I’m catching a suspect!” “Just give me some advice. I have no one else to ask. How about a gold bracelet? Or a big red envelope?” I took a deep breath, suppressing my frustration: “Mom, catching a suspect is a big deal. We’ve been here for six hours. Can we talk about the gift later?” “But I’m anxious. I want to settle it now. It’s your cousin’s wedding; we can’t look cheap.” “Mom! I really can’t discuss this with you right now. Just pick something practical, like a kitchen appliance or something.” I was burning with anxiety, my eyes constantly darting towards the suspect’s house. “An appliance? That’s not presentable enough. They’re not renovating. Should I dump two big fridges in their house? Don’t brush me off. Think harder.” My mom was relentless. “Mom, pick a few options, and we’ll decide when I get back, okay?” I tried to be patient. “Fine. Don’t forget. Call me back as soon as your mission is over.” Mom finally relented. I hung up, hovered my finger over the power button, paused, and then just switched it to vibrate. As a cop, I could get new orders anytime. The chief demanded phones never be off or silent, only vibrate. I composed myself, hunched over, and got back in the van, refocusing on the suspect’s house. About five minutes later, my phone vibrated violently again. My heart skipped a beat. I cursed myself for forgetting my mom is the type to call until someone picks up. I should have turned it off! Captain Miller looked at me, waved his hand helplessly, signaling me to deal with it. I hid in the corner again, answering the call, suppressing my rage: “Mom, what now?!” “I thought about it. Jewelry sounds good. Should I get a bracelet or a necklace?” Mom was oblivious to my urgency. “Mom! I’m catching a serial killer gang! Lives are at stake! Please, can we talk later?” I raised my voice, then quickly covered my mouth, afraid passersby might hear. “Alright, we’ll discuss it properly when you’re done.” Mom finally hung up. The world felt quiet again. Seeing signs of the suspect leaving, to avoid another interruption from Mom, I decided to turn off my phone. Back in the car, Captain Miller looked at me and sighed: “Zhou, you’re the backbone of our team. There’s a female suspect tonight. We need you to lead.” “If it’s just us guys, and she pulls some trick, tonight will be wasted again.” I nodded repeatedly, apologizing sincerely, and refocused on the stakeout. But a few minutes later, a ringtone pierced the air again. I looked at the phone in horror. In that moment, my life flashed before my eyes. I deeply regretted answering my mom’s first call and bringing my phone on the mission. The ringtone wrapped around me like a curse. “It’s mine.” Captain Miller pulled out his phone. “Unknown number. It’s fine. Let’s continue.” We were watching a gang of three suspects. Teams One and Two were responsible for the two men. Our Team Three was responsible for the woman. When arresting a female suspect, a female officer must be present. Last month, two male colleagues tried to arrest a female suspect. She stripped off her top and screamed sexual assault. They proceeded to restrain her, but bystanders filmed it, claiming they violated her rights. It went viral. The two exemplary officers were transferred to desk jobs due to public pressure. Just thinking about it made me shudder. Then the phone rang again, and my mom’s face popped into my head. 2 “Dammit. Who is it?” Captain Miller spat, ready to curse, but then handed the phone to me: “Your mom.” My mom? Why was my mom calling Captain Miller? I put the phone to my ear, and that familiar voice assaulted my eardrums. “Why is your phone off? Do you hate talking to me that much?” “Your Aunt May said she’s giving $800. We can’t be outdone, right?” I closed my eyes in despair, taking a moment to accept this wasn’t a hallucination. “Mom, I’m catching a criminal. A murderer! Can you stop calling? And don’t call my boss, okay?” “But you have time to answer, don’t you? Just grab the suspect when they come out. It takes a few seconds. Does answering a call delay you?” I took a deep breath, forcing myself not to curse: “Mom, for the last time…” Just then, Captain Miller slapped his thigh and ordered sternly: “Suspect is moving! Go! Go! Go!” Jones was ready and shot out of the van like an arrow, following the Captain. My sentence died in my throat. Anger and frustration overwhelmed me. I stood there frozen for a few seconds before remembering I needed to move. I threw the phone away, tensed my muscles, and followed. Panting, I reached the suspect’s stairwell. I heard the sound of bodies colliding on the third floor. A shrill female voice screamed: “Police brutality! Sexual assault!” Seconds later, a topless woman brushed past me. Ignoring the shock, I reached out and grabbed her, pinning her briefly against the railing. I reached for my handcuffs. But my waist was empty! In that second, rage and regret filled my head. I was going crazy. Because of that call! I forgot my gear when I got out of the car! The woman wriggled, slipped through my legs like an eel, and vanished into the night. Captain Miller and Jones came running down, witnessing the whole thing. Jones’s temples throbbed with anger, fire in his eyes: “Zhou Xiangwei! We moved out! Where were you?” “If you were here, she wouldn’t have escaped!” “That’s a murderer! If she kills again, can you take that responsibility?” He rushed up, shaking my shoulders, gripping my clothes, spitting in my face. I felt like my soul had left my body, the ringtone still echoing in my head. “Zhou, I have to say this.” “This is on you. What was so urgent you had to take a call during a mission?” Right! What was so urgent? My cousin is getting married next month, and my mom is asking about a gift! Just that! Was it really an emergency? Did she have to call again and again and again! I screamed internally. But I didn’t say it. I just lowered my head and clenched my fists: “I’m sorry, Captain Miller. I’ll talk to my mom when I get back.” Captain Miller sighed: “Luckily, we got the two men. You better think about how to explain this to Chief Wu.” 3 Back in the van, Captain Miller’s phone screen was still lit, showing a call duration of 19 minutes and 3 seconds. Blood rushed to my head. I nearly blacked out. So while I left the phone in the car for almost twenty minutes, she was just rambling on? My mom’s voice pierced through the speaker: “…Do you think I’m old and annoying? Why aren’t you talking?” “If you find me annoying, just hang up! Are you giving me the silent treatment to spite me?” I took a deep breath, composing myself: “Mom, have you been talking for twenty minutes?” Mom sounded annoyed, raising her voice: “If I don’t talk, why would I call you? Let me tell you, if I don’t decide on this gift tonight, I can’t sleep!” “If you don’t help me figure this out…” She rattled on like a machine gun. My mind was a mess. I held the phone away from my ear, massaging my temples. “Get her earrings.” I had no energy left to fight her. I just wanted it to end. I still had to attend the debriefing and “atone” to Chief Wu. “Earrings? What material? Gold? Diamond?” “Diamond.” “Diamonds don’t hold value! They lose half their worth once you leave the store.” “Then gold.” “Gold? Gold earrings are small. Will she think it’s too little?” “Your cousin’s family helped us a lot. We can’t be stingy!” I slumped in the back seat. The streetlights flickered past the window, the flashing light making me nauseous. Mom kept asking: “So, gold or diamond?” I don’t know how much time passed before Jones drove us back to the precinct. The conference room was brightly lit. The other two teams stared at us as we walked in. Chief Wu stopped pacing, his expression grim, signaling us to sit. “Tonight’s operation. Teams One and Two completed their mission. The female suspect escaped. Miller, report.” Captain Miller stood up abruptly, giving me a complicated look. I shrank in my seat. The Chief saw right through him and signaled him to sit: “Zhou, you speak.” I swallowed. The damn ringtone echoed in my mind again, along with my mom’s question: “Gold or diamond? Gold or diamond? Gold or…” I blurted out: “Diamond earrings.” The atmosphere in the room froze instantly. Colleagues looked at me in confusion. Miller and Jones stared, jaws dropped in shock. Miller coughed lightly: “Zhou means… during the struggle, the female suspect dropped a diamond earring. She might come back for it. We have a chance to catch her again.” Chief Wu pushed his glasses up, giving me a look that said he knew everything: “Zhou, come to my office.” He walked past me without another glance, leaving me stiff as a board. Miller patted my shoulder, sighing: “Zhou, just tell the truth. We still have a chance. Don’t beat yourself up.” “But you must talk to your mom. I don’t know how she got my number. And I hope she won’t call during missions unless it’s an absolute emergency.” I nodded furiously. Mom probably went through my phone and wrote down Miller’s number. Thanking Miller, I walked heavily towards the Chief’s office, bitterness filling my heart. If not for that call, she would be in custody. If she acted alone… Panic set in. I gripped my shirt, knuckles white. Before I knew it, I was at the Chief’s door. Just as my knuckle rapped on the wood, my pocket vibrated. 4 I stumbled back in fright, finger hovering over the “decline” button. I really didn’t want to answer, but I knew if I didn’t, she’d keep calling. I retreated five meters from the office and answered. “Honey, your Aunt May’s dog went missing in the middle of the night. Ask your colleagues if they can check the surveillance cameras?” “Surveillance isn’t something we check on a whim. Even if we could, you want us to check cameras in the middle of the night for a dog?” I clenched my fist, thumping my chest twice to keep from suffocating. “Where’s your compassion? Aunt May is worried sick! The puppy is only a month old. How will it survive out there?” “Where can a one-month-old puppy go? If police looked for cats and dogs all day, who would respond to emergencies?” “I am working right now! Text me if you need something! Stop calling, okay? Do you understand?” “What kind of job works in the middle of the night? You’re my daughter. Can’t I call you? Does the police department control that too?” … Mom was winding up again. I felt like I’d pass out from lack of oxygen. I hung up, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and knocked on the office door again. Chief Wu stopped what he was doing and looked at me gravely: “Zhou, you need to handle your personal matters.” “If this happens again, I’m transferring you out of Criminal Investigations.” “Understood, Chief,” I answered meekly, head down. “Go on. Continue the stakeout for the next few days. I hope you don’t make the same mistake.” Two days later, we found traces near the suspect’s home again. This time, the arrest point was an alley in an old residential area. Three teams again. Just in case, the Chief even dragged a soon-to-retire female officer along, fearing my mom’s death calls would sabotage me again. After four hours, we finally got the go-ahead. As the three teams crept towards the suspect, a familiar figure in a floral shirt burst into view. It was my mom. I cursed internally! She ran towards me with a bag of groceries, took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of her lungs: “Daughter! The killer is right there! Catch her!” 5 As soon as the words left her mouth, the woman dropped her fan and bolted. People in the alley scattered. Heads popped out of windows everywhere to watch the show. “F*ck!” Three teams jumped in fright, cursed in unison, and gave chase. I almost cried. I lunged to cover her mouth. But her mouth was faster than a train. By the time I got to her, she was done screaming! Ignoring my breakdown, the moment the gag failed, I sprinted after the suspect. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but my feet felt like they were on fire. I was flying. Gritting my teeth until they hurt, I leaped over the fruit stand she overturned, the bicycles she pushed down, the bottles rolling everywhere. I actually outran all my colleagues and tackled her to the ground! Only when I felt the cold, solid steel of the handcuffs at my waist did I feel alive again. My handcuffs. Thank god you were there this time. I cuffed her to a pipe, let out a long breath, and collapsed beside her, soul gone, waiting for backup. “Zhou, your mom’s scream… that was something!” Colleague Chen panted, forcing a smile. I knew he was mocking me. Before I could recover from the lion’s roar, my mom arrived with her groceries. Rage consumed me. My face turned red: “Mom! Why did you yell? Were you afraid she wouldn’t run? What if I didn’t catch her?” Mom smiled sheepishly: “But you caught her. And I was worried. I was afraid you didn’t see her.” I was speechless. “Didn’t see her? We squatted here for hours! You think we were playing?” “Mom, can you please listen to me? Don’t disturb me when I’m working. I’m begging you!” Mom slammed the groceries on the ground, hands on hips, volume up eight notches: “I was worried about you! Was I wrong to remind you the killer was there? Do you even consider me your mother?” “You shouldn’t have reminded me!” I shot back. Jones rushed up to pull me away, saying: “Forget it, forget it. At least we caught her. Auntie meant well. Don’t fight on the street.” Hearing this, Mom exploded like a firecracker: “Meant well but did wrong? What did I do wrong? Didn’t you catch her?” “If you didn’t catch her, would you blame me? Would I be the murderer then?” Her voice trembled. She sat on the ground, kicking her legs, wailing loudly. “I gave birth to you, raised you for thirty years, gave you my heart and soul, and this is how you see me? Why is my life so bitter?” Jones turned pale, scrambling to help her up, voice trembling: “Auntie, I didn’t mean that!” “What did you mean? You just think I’m old, useless, and in the way!” Jones was terrified: “No! I’m just bad with words! Please get up, the ground is cold!” Mom glanced at him amidst her sobs and cried even louder. After half an hour of coaxing on the street, she finally sniffled and laid out her condition: “I’ll go home, but you must go on a blind date.” I stopped dead, swallowing my soft words, face dark: “Then you can sleep here tonight.”

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