Category: English

On the day of my wedding to my adopted brother, I woke up five years in the past—right back to the day I first confessed my love to him. Standing before me, the younger version of my brother politely rejected me, his voice cool and detached. “I only see you as a sister.” I smiled faintly. “Alright then. But remember, whoever regrets this first has to bark like a dog for the rest of their life.” He looked calm. “I won’t regret it.” If I hadn’t seen you five years later, kneeling on the ground, weeping and begging me to come back, I might have actually believed you. Keep pretending. Let’s see who breaks first, you dramatic hypocrite. 1 [Delete this message. I’ll pretend I never saw it.] I stared at the text from Liam on my screen. I scrolled up to the message I had sent three minutes ago: [Liam, I like you. I don’t want to be just your sister.] I lowered my eyes, typing back nonchalantly. [Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?] Sure enough, a moment later, Liam’s reply came through. It was the exact same polite rejection line from my past life. [I only see you as a sister.] Looking at those words, I couldn’t help but chuckle. How did I respond last time? Oh right, I didn’t. I was too busy crying my eyes out in a corner. Back then, I felt ashamed of my “forbidden” feelings. I felt angry and guilty for crossing a line. But what I didn’t know back then was that I wasn’t the only one harboring these feelings. Liam was just better at hiding them. He was calm, restrained, and obsessed with maintaining the boundaries of a “good brother.” He chose to suppress and ignore the love that shouldn’t exist. My enthusiastic attempts were met with his cold shoulder, time and time again. I was the only one left suffering, whipping myself with moral guilt. Later, when he finally turned around to face his feelings, he realized he shouldn’t have run. So, we ended up getting married. Today was supposed to be that wedding. But instead of walking down the aisle, I woke up five years in the past. It took me exactly ten minutes to accept that I had time-traveled. The current Liam has no idea that I know his secret. He’s still using every trick in the book to push me away, acting cold to make me give up. I figured this must be fate. The pain I once suffered? Liam deserves to feel it too. The text bubble on the screen showed he was typing. I beat him to it. [Fine. Just don’t regret it.] [Whoever regrets this has to be the other person’s puppy for life.] It took a long time before Liam replied. [Never.] I scoffed and tossed my phone onto the pillow. Keep acting tough. No one puts on a show quite like you. 2 When I went downstairs the next morning, Liam was already busy in the kitchen. After his parents died in a car accident, my parents took him in. He’s been with us for over ten years. We share no blood, but our lives are inextricably tied. Like right now. Despite the awkwardness of the rejected confession, he was still up early making me breakfast. I couldn’t help it. I’ve been eating his cooking for a decade; it’s a habit. “I won’t be home for lunch or dinner,” I said, taking a bite of a sandwich while leaning against the doorframe. “I’m hanging out with friends this afternoon.” He kept his head down, frying an egg. I couldn’t tell if he heard me. All morning, he seemed to be avoiding me. He stayed in the kitchen, busy with god knows what. It wasn’t until I was changing my shoes in the entryway that he walked out of the living room holding an umbrella. “The forecast says rain. Take this.” He looked like the perfect, responsible older brother again. As if yesterday’s cold rejection was just my hallucination. I smiled at him. “Okay.” I pushed the door open, then turned back. “By the way, Brother.” Meeting his gaze, I kept my tone breezy. “I thought about it last night before bed. You’re right.” “I’ve never dated anyone, so I probably confused familial love with romance.” “Sorry for making things awkward, Bro.” Liam’s grip on the umbrella handle tightened visibly. After a long pause, he said flatly, “I’m glad you understand.” I pretended not to notice his tension. I patted his shoulder, leaning in close. My warm breath brushed against his neck. “I need to clear out my desk at school since we graduated. There are still a few boxes of books. I’ll need your help later, okay?” The Karaoke room was deafening. Maya sat next to me, handing me a boba tea. “Why did you come today? You usually hate these loud gatherings.” I chewed on the straw, shaking my head with a smile. “Just felt like it.” Liam was strict with me. Curfews. Reporting my location. If I didn’t reply for a few hours, he’d call. If I was late, his car would be waiting down the street. In my past life, I was afraid of making him angry, so I was obedient. Now that I think about it… that wasn’t brotherly concern. That was possessiveness. And he had the nerve to play the “sibling card.” You don’t know pain until the knife cuts you. “Won’t your brother be mad?” Maya worried. “Last time we stayed out past midnight, his face was terrifying when he picked you up.” I swirled my drink casually. “Why would he be mad?” I put on a faint smile. “He’s not my real brother anyway.” Liam is three years older than me. By the time I turned eighteen, he was already in college. When we were kids, our parents were always traveling for business. The job of raising me basically fell to him and the nanny. In a way, Liam raised me. My feelings for him were obvious to everyone. Yet he insisted on being the untouchable saint. Seems a bit unfair, doesn’t it? 3 When Liam arrived at the high school, it was already evening. The hallways were crowded with parents helping their kids move out. Standing at 6’1″, he stood out in the crowd. Even my homeroom teacher recognized him. “Here to help your sister move?” Liam smiled politely. “Yes.” He had graduated from this same school. Same teacher, too. The teacher led him to my desk. “She’s moved most of her stuff. Just a few boxes of books left.” Liam nodded thanks and crouched down to organize them. The boxes were filled with old test papers and reference books. And my notebook. He flipped it open casually, seeing my handwriting. He could almost picture me sitting in class, taking notes seriously. He flipped a few more pages. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something tucked between the pages. He pulled it out. It was a stack of sticky notes, covered in handwriting. Obviously notes passed during class. Liam frowned slightly. Beside him, the teacher chuckled. “By the way, now that your sister has graduated, dating is allowed, right?” Liam froze. “She’s dating?” The teacher waved a hand, teasing. “You know how kids are during puberty, hiding their crushes. We teachers see it, but we don’t burst their bubble since they need to focus on exams.” “But exams are over. Let them be.” Liam smiled but said nothing. Once the teacher left, he looked down at the notes again. Intuition told him the handwriting wasn’t from a girl. Liam narrowed his eyes. He looked up at the wall where the model essays were posted. He compared the handwriting one by one until his gaze landed on the last sheet. Signed: Josh. He turned to look at the back wall where the class photos from Sports Day were hanging. Second row, first on the left: Josh. He scanned the faces until he found the boy. And standing right next to him, smiling brilliantly, was me—Chloe. After singing a song, my phone vibrated. A text from Liam: [Moved your stuff home.] I replied: [Okay, thanks Bro~ Don’t touch my stuff, or I won’t be able to find anything later~] He replied instantly: [Left it exactly as it was on your desk.] [What time are you coming back?] I sent a voice message: “Dunno. Maybe eleven?” Immediately, Liam called. His voice sounded a bit raspy over the phone. “Send me your location later. I’ll pick you up tonight.” I refused quickly. “No need, that’s too much trouble.” Silence on the other end. Then, a cool voice: “Not trouble. I’m on the way.” On the way? We were twenty miles apart. I didn’t expose his lie. Just then, Josh, our class monitor who organized the party, asked me, “Chloe, what do you want to eat tonight?” I laughed. “Anything works. You pick.” Liam’s voice on the phone suddenly turned strange. “You’re at a party… with boys?” I laughed. “Yeah, it’s a class reunion.” Liam asked casually, “What’s his name?” “You wouldn’t know him, Brother.” “How do you know I won’t know him if you don’t say it?” I waved Josh over and handed him the phone. “Tell my brother your name.” Josh, bless his clueless heart, grinned. He took the phone and announced loudly: “Hello, Big Bro! I’m Josh!” 4 Liam stood downstairs at his dorm, staring at his phone. Why hadn’t Chloe posted on her Instagram Story yet? She usually documented everything when she went out. His roommate, Zack, couldn’t stand it anymore. “Liam, I’m talking to you. Did you hear a word I said?” Liam looked up, frowning. “What?” Zack sighed. “So I was talking to a wall. I said, if you’re sleeping in the dorm tonight, remember to top up the electricity card.” Liam was distracted. “I’m not staying. Just grabbing something.” Seeing him glued to his phone, Zack leaned over and saw the chat with me. “Oh, going home today?” Liam lowered his eyes. “Yeah. My sister is out late. I’m picking her up.” Zack patted his shoulder sympathetically. “You act like her dad and her mom combined.” “If you ask me, you should let her get a boyfriend. Take the load off your shoulders…” Before he could finish, the temperature around them dropped. Zack looked up into Liam’s cold eyes. “I introduce one?” Liam smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “Who? You?” Zack, blind without his glasses, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s not a bad idea. I’ve seen your sister…” Liam scoffed. “You? You’re shorter than me, not as fit as me, failed a class last semester, and probably won’t get into grad school.” “Why would I introduce my sister to you?” Zack almost cried. “Dude! If you don’t want to, just say so. No need for personal attacks!” Liam walked away, his temples throbbing. He felt irritable. Ever since he rejected Chloe, it felt like the whole world was against him. After dinner, we went to a Murder Mystery game. It didn’t end until midnight. Josh, being the class monitor, had been forced to drink a lot. He was wasted. Helping him out of the elevator, someone asked the crucial question. “Does anyone know where he lives?” Silence. Maya sighed. “No choice. Let’s book him a hotel room for the night. Make him reimburse us tomorrow.” Everyone pulled out their phones to check prices. “Book a King Room here. It’s showing $60 for me.” “Damn, mine says $75. Where did you get that coupon?” I checked my app and paused. “Why is it showing $45 for me?” “Use your phone then!” everyone urged. “Stupid dynamic pricing algorithms!” Liam’s car was parked across the street. He watched Chloe and her friends come downstairs. She was standing next to a drunk boy who was being supported by others. Liam frowned. A taxi stopped in front of them. The group stuffed the drunk boy inside. He thought that was it. But then, Chloe opened the door and got in too. Liam: “?” Just as he was about to get out and stop her, his phone vibrated. A system notification text. Reading the words, the blood rushed to his head. [Dear Ms. Li, you have successfully booked 1 Honeymoon Suite.]

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I was carrying a heavy bag of dog food upstairs when my new neighbor, a short, stout man, blocked my path. “You feed your dog this garbage? Do you even deserve a dog?” “Why are you so lazy? You should be cooking for it with premium ingredients!” “This is basically animal abuse. People like you, pretending to be virtuous, make me sick.” Before I could react, he slashed my bag of dog food open with a pair of scissors, spilling kibble everywhere. “Consider this a warning,” he sneered, turning to leave. I grabbed his wrist. “That bag cost me $250! You either pay up now, or we’re going to the police station!” 1 I’m a volunteer at the local animal shelter. I help trap strays for TNR (Trap-Neuter-Return) and medical care. Sometimes, I dip into my own pocket to foster injured animals. Lately, the stray population in our neighborhood has exploded. I couldn’t help but take in a few more wounded souls. Animals eat a lot and poop a lot. My wallet was hurting. Suddenly, something furry brushed against my leg. It was Fuzzy, a stray dog I’d recently rescued, begging for cuddles. I scooped him up and gave him a big sniff. Mommy loves you! Mommy’s gonna buy you food right now. Because I need so much food, I order in bulk directly from a local breeder who gives me a discount to support my rescue work. I drove my Mini Cooper to pick up a 100-pound bag of dog food. That should last a few months. I was struggling to drag the bag toward the elevator when my new neighbor, Roger, appeared out of nowhere. “You feed your dog this garbage? Do you even deserve a dog?” I was stunned. Our neighbors are usually lovely people who support my rescue efforts. This was the first time someone had pointed a finger in my face. My temper flared. “Who the hell are you? None of your business what I feed my dogs! Jealous no one’s feeding you?” I thought that would shut him up. Instead, he put his hands on his hips and launched into a tirade. “You don’t deserve a dog! Why are you so lazy? You should be cooking for it with premium ingredients!” “This is basically animal abuse. People like you, pretending to be virtuous, make me sick! The most disgusting thing about ‘dog lovers’ like you is how cheap you are. Dogs love meat! They need the best meat! Who said you could feed them this starch-filled crap?” I snapped. “Did you skip your rabies shot? Dogs are omnivores! They need vegetables too! This kibble is high quality, used by professionals for years.” “Stop pretending you know what you’re talking about, you idiot!” I shoved past him. “Move! You’re lucky I’m an animal lover, or someone might mistake you for a wild boar and turn you into bacon!” I tried to drag the bag to the elevator. 100 pounds of kibble vs. my 140 pounds of body weight was a struggle. I barely took two steps before someone kicked me from behind. I stumbled. Roger stepped over me, whipped out a pair of scissors, and slashed the bag open. “Let’s see you feed them now!” he roared, slashing repeatedly. Kibble spilled all over the floor. My blood boiled. He smirked, triumphant. “Next time, cook real food! Premium beef! If I catch you feeding them this trash again, I’ll destroy it every time!” He turned to leave. I laughed in disbelief. Who did he think he was? I grabbed his wrist. “That bag cost me $250! You either pay up now, or we’re going to the police station!” 2 He didn’t expect me to fight back. He tried to shake me off, but despite being a man, he was barely 5’5″. I’m 5’8″, 140 lbs, and I lift. Plus, wrestling stray dogs gives you a hell of a grip. I twisted his arm behind his back. “Pay up! Or I’m calling 911!” “I’m not paying! Don’t try to scam me! That’s cheap garbage kibble, probably worth five bucks! Let go, you crazy b*tch!” He stomped his feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Or a wild boar caught in a trap. His screaming attracted a few neighbors coming home. “What’s going on?” Roger immediately switched to victim mode. “Oh god! She’s crazy! I just moved in! She’s bullying me!” “She was feeding poison to her dogs! I tried to stop her, and she attacked me!” “Look at her! Does she look like an animal lover? She’s an abuser!” Wow, give this man an Oscar. The snot and tears were a nice touch. Disgusting. He wailed for a while before realizing no one was buying it. Everyone knew me. They knew I spent my weekends rescuing kittens from storm drains. I kicked him in the butt, sending him sprawling a few feet away. He scrambled up to run. I sprinted over, grabbed his collar, and shoved my phone in his face. “Look closely! That’s the bank transfer receipt for the kibble. $250. Pay up. I’m counting to three. Three, two…” Before I even got to one, he folded. “Fine! Fine! I’ll pay! Just my luck running into a psycho like you.” “No wonder you’re single! With a temper like that, no man would want you!” He Venmo’d me the money and ran off, covered in dirt, cursing all the way. $250 richer. Nice. I swept up the spilled kibble into the trash, but managed to salvage about half the bag that hadn’t touched the dirty floor. I bagged it up for the community stray feeding stations. I vacuum-sealed the rest for my own pets. Dealing with an idiot was annoying, but hey, free dog food. 3 The next morning, I stepped out of my apartment and almost slipped on a puddle of greasy, soapy water. Food scraps were everywhere. The smell made me gag. “Who the hell dumped their dishwater in the hallway?” I shouted. The door opposite mine opened. Roger’s wife stepped out, holding a red banner that read: PROTECT ANIMALS. FEEDING KIBBLE IS MURDER. She was even larger than Roger, with bad skin and a mean face. “So you’re the evil woman feeding starch to dogs?” “You look like a tramp. Bet you use those dogs for ‘unspeakable things’ you film for the internet.” She leered at me. “Since you’re so into bestiality, maybe feed your ‘husband’ better food. You scammed my husband out of $250 yesterday. Buy some steak for your dog-husband.” “If I find out you spent a penny of my husband’s money on yourself, I’ll tear that pretty face off!” What. The. Actual. F*ck. Who did I offend in a past life? First of all, my kibble is mid-range, perfectly fine for most families. $2.50 a pound isn’t cheap when you’re feeding an army. I have five cats and eight dogs at home. Keeping them fed is a struggle. These lunatics haven’t spent a dime on rescue, yet they stand there judging me? And the accusations? Disgusting. Animals are innocent. What kind of twisted mind goes there immediately? I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran back inside, grabbed the litter scoop, and dug up a fresh clump from the litter box. The woman was still gloating outside. “What? Truth hurt? I knew you sluts were all the sa—AGHHH!” Before she could finish, I shoved the clump of cat poop right into her open mouth. She gagged, eyes rolling back. “Blargh… urggh!” “Guess what that is?” I laughed until tears came out. “Want to know? Taste it!” “Eat up! If that’s not enough, I have plenty more!” I waved the bag of poop. She looked terrified and tried to run back into her apartment. Roger heard the commotion and tried to come out to help, but his wife was blocking the door, heaving and retching. He saw me and wanted revenge for the $250. He pushed against her to get out. Two propane-tank-sized people wedged in a doorway. I saw my chance. I lunged forward and shoved a scoopful into Roger’s mouth too. “No need to fight! Plenty for everyone! My cats are very productive!” Roger’s eyes bulged. He puked all over the floor. Disgusted, I slammed their door shut for them. Too gross. I lost my appetite for breakfast. I stared at their closed door. An idea formed. Since they loved it so much, I shouldn’t be stingy. I went back inside. The cats had just finished breakfast and were lining up for the litter box. One fresh turd after another. Yes! Good kitties! Mommy’s little poop factories! My eyes lit up. “Don’t rush! One at a time! Make it a big one! Mommy needs ammo!” I carefully arranged the fresh, milk-scented litter clumps into a heart shape right outside their door. Then I left, satisfied. 4 I didn’t want to be around when they opened the door. I ran to my best friend, Lily’s place, and jumped straight into the shower. Cat poop smells potent. I felt like the scent had seeped into my skin. Lily was confused but used to my antics. She just went to the kitchen to cook. Lily and I grew up together. She became a journalist; I became a freelance writer. We weren’t rich, but we got by. Since I started rescuing animals, though, I’ve been relying on her for meals a lot. We were supposed to go shopping at 10 AM, but the Crazy Couple delayed me until noon. Luckily, Lily loves me. Instead of being mad, she made hot pot. I sat there with a towel on my head, eating beef and veggies, telling her about my morning. When I got to the cat litter part, we both laughed until our sides hurt. “Ew, stop,” Lily grimaced, laughing. “I’m eating! Too gross!” “More for me then!” I grinned, stealing her beef. The news came on the TV. Lily glanced at it. “Oh yeah, I transferred departments. I’m working with the police on a crime beat now. They’re tracking a human trafficking ring.” “They target women our age. They use all kinds of tricks—fake distress calls, accusing women of being mistresses to create a scene and snatch them. They’re getting creative.” “One victim was a girl who rescued strays. She gave her address to someone claiming to want to adopt, and they staked her out. She’s still missing. Probably…” We fell silent. The world is scary. Even doing good deeds can get you killed. “Don’t worry,” I said finally, flexing my bicep. “I can take care of myself. Check out these guns.” Lily laughed and pushed me away. After lunch, we went shopping. But we hadn’t gone far when we ran into them. “Speak of the devil. The Crazy Couple.” I rolled my eyes. “Bad luck. Let’s go.” “Who? The animal protection nutjobs?” Lily asked. “Yeah. Run. I left them a ‘gift’ this morning, they’re probably out for blood.” But we weren’t fast enough. Roger and his wife, Clara, spotted us. They were eating at a roadside noodle stall, bowls in hand. Roger charged at me, face twisted in rage. “You btch! You put cat sht at my door! I stepped right in it!” I dodged his punch. “I thought you loved animals! Aren’t you supposed to love every part of them? Even their poop is a gift from nature! Hypocrites!” Lily and I cracked up. Roger and Clara turned purple. Clara roared, “Die, you slut! How dare you make me eat sh*t!” She was surprisingly agile for her size. I couldn’t dodge in time. A bowl of noodles slammed into my face. Grease and sauce dripped down my chin. They smirked, finally getting a win. But then the smell hit me. That wasn’t beef or pork. I looked at the noodle stall owner, who looked horrified. It was dog meat. Most pet owners won’t touch dog meat. The thought of eating something that could be their own pet is repulsive. Especially for these two “animal rights activists.” I wiped my face and sneered. “I thought feeding kibble was abuse? What do you call eating a dog? Hypocrites doesn’t even cover it.” “Real animal lovers don’t eat dog meat.” Roger panicked. “Bullsh*t! We love dogs! We’d never eat them!” “How were we supposed to know? This stall is so cheap, it’s probably… probably human meat!” His eyes darted around, sweat beading on his forehead. Clara covered his mouth. “It’s synthetic meat! Restaurants use it all the time! Cheap and lasts forever. I bet it’s synthetic!” I burst out laughing. These two were terrible liars. It was lunchtime. The street was busy. The stall owner’s face went from shocked to murderous. “Bullsh*t! This is real dog meat! Everyone knows where I get my meat!” “Are you trying to ruin my business? Get lost! I’m not serving you anymore!” Roger realized he messed up. “Wait, boss, no! Your business is great! I just misspoke!” “Folks, don’t listen to us! This meat is fresh! Slaughtered daily! Come buy some!” He tried to fix it, but the owner waved him away like a fly. “Get out of here!” Lily and I walked away, laughing.

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A bullet had torn through my brother’s heart on his last peacekeeping tour. A ruptured artery. Massive bleeding. He had three hours to live, tops. But as they wheeled him into the OR, I was calmly watering my plants. A minute later, the door to my office flew open, kicked in by my wife, Lena. Her voice was a blade. “That’s your brother in there, Elias! Are you just going to let him die? How can you even wear that uniform?” I knew, with cold certainty, that I was the only surgeon who could save him. I just murmured, “Oh,” and continued tending to my flowers. The next second, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. My mother’s slap. “Elias Thorne! You ungrateful monster. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for your brother!” My father ripped the service ribbons from his own uniform and threw them at my face. “Get in that operating room and save your brother. Now.” I simply raised a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth, then coolly rolled up my sleeve, revealing the tapestry of horrifying scars that covered my arm. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “This hand is useless. I can’t operate anymore.” 1 The air in the office seemed to crystallize. Every eye was fixed on my right hand. This was the hand that had performed countless impossible surgeries. The hand they once called “The Hand of God” at this military hospital. But now, it was a grotesque ruin, twitching uncontrollably. It trembled so violently I could barely hold the watering can steady. I was, for all intents and purposes, a cripple. Lena shook her head wildly, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Stop acting, Elias. You were in surgery just yesterday. How could your hand be ‘useless’ today?” “You’d really sink this low? You’d lie about this just to avoid saving him?” I met her accusation with a faint, chilling smile and held my arm out closer for her to inspect. “Believe what you want, Lena. My hand is finished.” I let the smile widen. “Perhaps fate has decided it’s Clark’s time to die.” The dark, swollen veins looked as if they were about to burst from my skin. The sight made her recoil, but her indignation quickly returned. “You’re a medical genius! I bet you did something to your own hand, used some obscure technique to make it look like this. I don’t believe for a second it was ruined in just a few hours!” Beside her, my mother’s composure finally broke. Tears streamed down her face. She reached for me, not to strike me again, but to clutch at my sleeve, her voice pleading. “Elias, I’m begging you. As your mother, I am begging you. Please, just go operate on your brother.” Her voice cracked. “Have you forgotten who saved you when you were being torn apart by those wild dogs?” A phantom pain shot through me, the old scars on my back burning as if they were fresh. I was eight years old, a Boy Scout on a camping trip in the countryside. A pack of feral dogs appeared out of nowhere, lunging for me. Their teeth sank into my back, ripping flesh from bone. I was moments from death when he appeared. Nine-year-old Clark, brandishing a heavy branch, driving the dogs away before carrying me home. He saved my life. My parents were overwhelmed with gratitude. When they learned he was the victim of horrific abuse at home, they decided to adopt him. My injuries were severe. I spent a full year bedridden, missing the selection trials for the elite military academy. Clark, naturally, took my spot. I could only watch from my sickbed as he dazzled the recruiters, earning the praise that should have been mine. Everyone lauded my parents for gaining such a brilliant son. No one seemed to remember that I had once been even more brilliant. My body healed, but it was never the same. The rigorous training of a soldier was now beyond me. For my parents, both decorated battlefield commanders, having a son who was a true, hardened soldier was everything. A dream only Clark could fulfill. From that day on, the scales of their love tipped, never to be balanced again. Clark got the first pick of everything. Clark’s needs always came first. In my own home, I started to feel like the one who had been adopted. I was jealous, but I swallowed my bitterness and accepted it. Hoping to win back their approval, I became a military surgeon. But it changed nothing. Their eyes still followed Clark, their pride swelling only for him. Their cold indifference nearly drove me into a deep depression. I pushed the memories away. I didn’t answer them. I just went back to my flowers. My father strode forward and swatted the planter from my hands. It exploded on the floor, a shower of terracotta and soil. “Your brother is lying on a gurney, bleeding out, and you have the heart to play with these damn flowers? Are you even human?” He wasn’t finished. He brought his boot down, grinding the delicate petals into the dirt. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. My grandmother had given me the seeds for those flowers. Still, I said nothing. I knelt, carefully picking up the broken shards and ruined blossoms. My mother completely unraveled. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with tears as she sobbed. “Please, Elias! I’m begging you! Do you want your father and me to get on our knees? Just go look at him! Please, just one look!” She bent her knees, as if she truly was about to prostrate herself before me. I had never seen her lose control like this. Not even when I was a child, mauled and bleeding, had she shown a hint of panic. A commander, she always said, must remain impassive in any situation. Why was it so different for Clark? My father’s voice boomed with the authority he used on the battlefield. “I don’t care if you’re crippled. You will perform this surgery, and you can fall apart after!” A sharp edge of a broken pot sliced my palm. A thin line of red welled up. A mocking smile played on my lips. “Are you sure about that? If Clark dies on my table, whose fault will it be then?” 2 Disappointment, regret, sheer disbelief—a storm of emotions churned in their eyes. “Enough, Elias,” Lena snarled. “We all know if you do this surgery, it will be a success. Unless you don’t want to save him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or maybe… you want to kill him?” I just chuckled softly and continued to gather the broken pieces of my flowerpot. “This is insane!” Their words washed over me, but I remained silent, my head bowed. Time was ticking away. Clark was running out of it. Suddenly, a nurse burst in from the operating theater, her face pale. “It’s bad! Colonel Thorne is flatlining! If we don’t operate now, he won’t last another ten minutes.” My mother swayed, her eyes rolling back in her head as if she might faint. That’s when Lena stepped forward, her fists clenched. “Mom, Dad… let me do it. Let me perform the surgery.” “Elias and I studied under the same mentor. I’ve observed this procedure countless times. I know I can do it.” My parents trusted Lena, but this was Clark’s life on the line. Their golden boy. Their everything. My mother hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? The senior specialists all refused. You’ve never been the lead surgeon on something this complex.” A flicker of steel entered Lena’s eyes. She shot a venomous glare in my direction. “That’s only because Elias hogs the spotlight, never giving anyone else a chance! The truth is, my skills are every bit as good as his now.” She pressed on, her voice filled with conviction. “I know this procedure inside and out. And with the help of Elias’s surgical assistance mech, I’m confident I can succeed.” My body went rigid. I had spent seven years developing that mech-assisted surgical system. It was designed for the most delicate operations, like suturing microscopic blood vessels, guiding the surgeon’s hand with inhuman precision. Its success rate was hovering around sixty percent. The hope of saving Clark lit up my parents’ faces, though a shadow of doubt remained. “I’ve heard how difficult this is,” my father said. “Can a machine really make the difference? I’m still not sure.” Lena was ready with a reassuring answer. “Don’t worry. The assistance arm handles the fine motor skills, the impossibly precise suturing. Plus, I won’t be alone. I’ll have a full team of doctors assisting me.” As if on cue, a group of surgeons filed in from the hallway, all nodding their agreement, all offering their help. I scanned their faces. Most of them were my own residents, my protégés. And now, every single one of them had turned their back on me. Tears of relief streamed down my parents’ faces. They grabbed Lena’s hands, their gratitude overflowing. “Lena, my dear, if you pull this off, we’ll write you a letter of recommendation to the Central Command Medical Center. You’ll be made a senior consultant. And everyone who helps you, we’ll make sure their superiors know of their valor.” My hand twitched again, a tremor of ice this time. A position I had bled for, worked seven long years to achieve, and they could grant it to Lena with a single letter. A letter they had never once offered to write for me. My heart, already a cold, dead weight, sank even lower. “Hold on,” I said, my voice cutting through their celebration. “You want to use my machine? Have you obtained my authorization?” The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped back to absolute zero. Lena stared at me, aghast. “Elias, have you lost your mind? Your brother is dying, and you’re talking about authorization?” 3 A cold smile touched my lips. “That machine is the result of seven years of my life’s work. Why should I let you use it for free?” Lena’s eyes burned with hatred. My parents looked at me as if I were a monster they were seeing for the first time. “Elias,” my mother choked out, “we were wrong to have ever raised you. If we’d known you’d become this… this thing… Clark should have let those dogs finish you off!” My own mother, wishing me dead. I should have felt something. Pain. Anger. But there was nothing left inside me but a vast, silent emptiness, like a dead lake. I continued calmly, “Unless… you sign over the villa. The one in my parents’ name. Then I might consider it.” My parents were trembling with rage. “You bastard!” My father’s hand flew up, striking me again. I just smiled through the pain. “That’s another million you owe me. Pay up, or you get no authorization.” His hand hovered in the air, shaking, but it didn’t fall again. “You vile creature!” my mother screamed. “Using your brother’s life to blackmail us for money? That house was meant for Clark! It was going to be our wedding gift to him and his future bride.” I didn’t respond. I just tapped my watch, a silent reminder that their time was running out. After a moment of agonizing indecision, my father finally broke. He scribbled out a transfer deed on the spot and had it rushed for an official seal. Minutes later, the signed contract and the deed to the villa were in my hand. “There,” he spat. “Now sign the authorization.” My pen hovered over the paper, then stopped. “Seven years of work,” I mused. “One house is hardly enough. I also want the family heirloom. The locket.” My mother’s eyes widened in horror. “That is for the eldest son’s wife! It belongs to Clark’s future bride! How dare you!” The eldest son. Before Clark, that was me. I said nothing, just idly twirled the pen between my fingers, waiting. Finally, they yielded. My father sent someone to retrieve the heirloom. Only after the delicate, antique locket was safely in my possession did I sign the paper. “There. You have my permission,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “I do hope you know how to operate it.” The mech’s success rate was sixty percent, but that number was entirely dependent on the lead surgeon. In the end, it was the human, not the machine, who would determine the outcome. Lena scoffed. “Just you watch. You’re not the only genius in this hospital, Elias.” I gave a slight, knowing smile. With the deed in one hand and the locket in the other, I walked out of that office with my head held high. As I passed my parents, my father’s voice, cold as a tombstone, followed me. “Don’t bother coming home again.” I just grunted in acknowledgment and kept walking. The stares of everyone in the hallway were like daggers. Even patients I had personally saved now shook their heads in disgust. In their eyes, I was a monster, a pariah who would trade his own brother’s life for profit. I didn’t care. I smiled as I left the hospital behind. I went back to the house, packed my bags, and erased every trace of my existence there. Then I drove to the villa. My grandmother’s favorite carnations by the front door had withered and died. It didn’t matter. I would bring them back. I placed the locket on the small altar before her photograph. Grandma, I got it back. I’ll never let someone like Clark tarnish it. He doesn’t deserve it. The surgery took nearly four hours. The entire field hospital held its breath. The grounds outside were swarming with media, a circus of cameras and reporters. My phone blew up with calls and messages, a flood of hate from a world that had already judged and condemned me. I was a cold-blooded animal, a disgrace. My years of service, my past triumphs, were all rendered worthless. I ignored it all, focusing only on the delicate, withered carnations in my hands. Six hours after it began, the doors to the operating theater swung open. Lena emerged, proclaiming the surgery a resounding success. The hospital erupted in cheers. The media descended upon her, hailing her as a hero. The headlines were already being written: The top surgeon’s throne had a new heir. Lena was the new “Hand of God.” She spoke eloquently to the cameras, describing the grueling procedure and magnanimously promising to make the surgical mech technology available to hospitals everywhere. “A doctor’s duty is to save lives,” she declared, her voice ringing with false piety. “What Elias Thorne refused to do, I did for him!” Offers from medical tech corporations poured in. Lena ultimately signed an exclusive deal with the titan, Astral Corp. Overnight, Lena became a household name. And I became a rat, scurrying in the filth of public opinion. Looking at the court summons that arrived on my phone, I knew my judgment day was at hand. 4 A few days later, a military vehicle pulled up in front of the villa. I gathered my prepared documents and stood for a moment before my grandmother’s portrait. “Wait for me, Grandma,” I whispered. “I’ll be back soon.” Then I walked out and calmly surrendered myself to the military police. At the tribunal, every face was a mask of contempt. My parents glared at me with a hatred so pure it could have melted steel. The judge banged his gavel. “Elias Thorne, you stand accused by this council of dereliction of duty and gross violation of the Military Medical Code. How do you plead?” I slowly lifted my head, meeting his gaze. “Not guilty.” The courtroom exploded. Accusations flew from every corner. If not for the bailiffs holding them back, my parents would have torn me apart with their bare hands. “Not guilty?” Lena scoffed from the witness stand. “You abandoned your brother and blackmailed your family! We all saw it! How dare you deny it?” “Elias, if you had a shred of decency, you’d confess,” she continued, her voice dripping with disgust. “If I hadn’t stepped in, your brother would be dead!” I looked at them, my expression as still and dead as a frozen lake. “But he’s not dead, is he?” A collective gasp swept through the room. Camera flashes strobed around me, the media desperate to capture the face of this unrepentant villain. No matter what the judge asked, my answer was the same. “Not guilty.” Just as the proceedings reached a stalemate, the grand doors of the courtroom swung open. Clark was wheeled in, looking frail and pale. Even with the surgery’s success, his body was shattered. He’d never regain the strength to be a commander. The life he had stolen was now, finally, broken. “Your Honor, Mom, Dad,” he said, his voice weak but clear. “If my brother won’t admit to abandoning me… then perhaps he’ll admit to treason!”

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My phone shattered. At the airport, I borrowed a stranger’s phone to call my brother: “Bro, where are you?” He chuckled, his voice low and teasing: “Which ‘sister’ is this? Hmm?” I cleared my sore throat: “Your biological sister. Same mom, same dad.” “Since when do I have other sisters?! And why wasn’t I informed?!” Silence on the other end. “Cough. Why are you calling from a strange number?” “Something urgent came up, I can’t leave. I sent a buddy to pick you up.” He teased, “You know him. It’s the hot guy you swore you’d marry when you were a kid.” 1 After SATs were done and college applications submitted, my parents packed me up like luggage and shipped me off to spend the summer with my brother, who works in New York. They planned a romantic getaway, just the two of them, and didn’t trust me home alone. My brother, Nate, initially refused. “I have work every day. I don’t have time to babysit her.” My mom raised her voice: “You were the one who begged us to have a little sister! You promised you’d take care of her! Now she just needs a place to crash for the summer, and you’re full of excuses!” “Don’t you have weekends off? You’re single, what could you possibly be busy with?” “You wanted her, you deal with her.” Nate laughed, defeated: “Fine, fine, fine. Send her over.” “I’ll take care of it.” 2 The day of my flight, Nate texted me: “Emergency came up, can’t pick you up.” “Asked a friend to grab you. Call him when you land.” He sent a number. But I was already in the air and didn’t see the message. I landed at dusk. Just as I turned off airplane mode, a rushing passenger slammed into me. I fell, and my phone went flying, landing ten feet away with a sickening crack. The guy didn’t even look back, disappearing into the crowd. I picked up my phone. Smashed. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks, completely black. I tried to borrow a phone from passersby. Three rejections. Everyone looked at me with suspicion and walked away fast. I stood there, awkward and helpless. Finally, an airport staff member let me use theirs. I thanked my lucky stars I memorized my family’s numbers. I dialed Nate. First call, rejected immediately. My heart sank. Second call. It rang for a long time before he picked up. A familiar, cool voice answered: “Hello, who is this?” Hearing his voice, my composure cracked. My eyes welled up. I wanted to cry. My voice came out thick with unshed tears. “Bro, where are you?” He was somewhere loud. Background noise was chaotic. He paused. Then laughed lightly: “Bro?” “Which sister is this? The club? From the birthday party the other night? Or someone else?” I froze. Since when did my brother start collecting “sisters” behind my back? After a long pause, I answered seriously: “Your biological sister, Chloe Tang.” Silence on the other end for a solid ten seconds. Then his tone turned serious. “Cough. Why are you calling from a strange number?” “What’s wrong with your voice?” My attention shifted. “I ate too many lychees at home yesterday. Got a sore throat.” I told him about my phone getting smashed but left out the part about falling. He comforted me: “Don’t worry. Where are you exactly? Tell me.” “I have an emergency today and can’t pick you up. I called a bro to get you.” “Julian Shen. You know him.” Then he teased: “Remember? The guy you swore you’d marry when you grew up.” Hearing Julian’s name, my heart skipped a beat. Panic set in. Nate is seven years older than me. Julian was Nate’s middle school friend, but two years younger than him. He skipped two grades. Rich family, good looks, high IQ and EQ. The classic “neighbor’s kid” everyone compares you to. Perfect and dazzling. He and my brother were tight. The first time Julian came to our house, tiny me was stunned by his face. He was polite, humble, and treated me well. Every time he visited, he brought gifts. Snacks, toys, pretty hair clips. I was a kid with zero filter, so I asked him if he’d wait for me to grow up so I could marry him. Julian smiled gently. He picked up tiny me: “Sure, if you don’t think I’m too old by then.” It was a joke. But I remembered it. Vividly. Because every time we met after that, my parents brought it up. “Remember how you used to scream about marrying him?” Nate would join in: “You told me I wasn’t as handsome as Julian. Almost died of anger. Ungrateful brat.” For the first few years, Julian would play along: “Is Chloe’s promise still valid?” After I started middle school, he stopped mentioning it. When others teased, he just smiled and changed the subject. Puberty made me sensitive and shy. I started hiding whenever Julian came over. Then Nate went to college. I rarely saw Julian after that. Maybe once or twice his freshman and sophomore years. Then never again. It’s been five years. 3 I followed Nate’s instructions to the exit. A swarm of drivers rushed me, asking if I needed a ride. It freaked me out. I shook my head and backed away. One driver grabbed my suitcase handle, trying to hustle me into his car. He was strong. I yanked my suitcase back and stumbled in the chaos. I crashed into a stranger’s chest. He steadied me, saving me from hitting the ground. My instinct was to bow my head and apologize. “Thank you, thank you.” I noticed I’d scuffed his expensive leather shoe. “Sorry, I’m so sorry.” “Chloe Tang.” A pleasant but unfamiliar voice sounded above my head, cutting off my apology. Hearing my name, I snapped my head up. My eyes widened. Shocked. Stunned. The man in front of me was in a bespoke suit, every hair in place, radiating an aura of elite sophistication. He was tall. I barely reached his collarbone. His face was more defined, more mature than the boy in my memories. Julian Shen swept a cold glance over the drivers. They scattered immediately. When he looked back at me, seeing my dazed expression, he smiled. The cold aura vanished instantly. That face was more dazzling than the sunset behind him. His eyes held a familiar gentleness. “What? It’s been a few years, don’t recognize me?” I snapped out of it, feeling shy. “Julian… bro. Long time no see.” Julian curved his lips: “Long time no see, Chloe.” 4 In Julian’s car, he asked me a few questions. Hearing about my phone, he apologized: “My bad. I should have been there earlier to meet you inside, but a meeting ran late.” I waved my hands frantically: “No, no, no.” “You’re so busy, and my brother is bothering you. We should be apologizing.” Julian smiled: “It’s no bother. I’m happy to see you.” He was dressed so formally. Even though he was gentle, the “successful adult male” vibe gave me invisible pressure. It had been years. He wasn’t that boy anymore, and I wasn’t a kid. Sitting in the enclosed space of his car, I felt incredibly awkward. When nervous, people fidget. I kept sipping my orange juice. Julian gripped the steering wheel. His fingers were long and pale. Beautiful hands. Stopped at a red light, he suddenly said: “You’re staying at my place tonight. Your brother…” Pfft— Before he finished, I sprayed juice everywhere. I coughed violently, scrambling for tissues in my backpack. Julian handed me a grey handkerchief. I clutched my tissues, embarrassed: “It’s okay, I’ll use these.” He didn’t insist, taking back the handkerchief. I wiped the juice splatters in the car, feeling mortified. “Sorry, I messed up your car.” The sun disappeared below the horizon, and the streetlights flickered on. Julian’s profile was a silhouette against the passing lights. It made him look colder, more distant. I felt like a kid who broke a vase at a stranger’s house. Anxious. Julian glanced at me. His eyes were calm but resigned in the dim light. He sighed softly: “Chloe, you’ve been here less than thirty minutes and you’ve apologized a dozen times.” “I don’t blame you. You don’t need to be scared.” “We aren’t strangers. I’m the same as your brother. Treat me like a brother, okay?” He reached over and patted my head. His tone was gentle: “Relax.” I nodded. But my mind was on Nate. “Julian… why am I staying at your place? Where is my brother?” Julian turned the wheel. His tone was steady: “Nate had a sudden business trip. He didn’t want to leave you alone.” “I have a housekeeper during the day who can take care of you.” He paused, then added: “My niece is staying with me right now. It won’t be just the two of us.” He looked at me, smiling: “Don’t be scared.” My little worry exposed, I looked away, embarrassed. “I… I want to call my brother.” Julian’s phone rang immediately. Caller ID: Nate Tang. My brother!

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My eight-year-old son, Mason, deliberately dumped a bucket of water from the second-floor balcony, soaking his classmate below. By the time I rushed to the school, breathless and panicked, he was still defending himself. “Mom, I didn’t mean to! My hand just slipped. You have to believe me.” I nodded slowly. Ignoring the burning, angry glare of the other boy’s mother, I spoke to my son, keeping my voice gentle. “Go down to the courtyard and wait for me.” Five minutes later, I stood on that same balcony. I lifted a basin filled to the brim with ice-cold water, aimed for my son standing below, and dumped the whole thing on his head. 1 Before Ms. Carter sent me the security footage, I was holding onto a shred of hope. You always want to believe your kid is the sweet one, the one who listens, the one who only has the occasional rebellious streak. You don’t want to believe they’re capable of malice. But the moment I clicked play on that video, I knew I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. The footage was crystal clear. Mason was supposed to be helping tidy up the classroom. Instead, he filled a small bucket, wobbled over to the second-floor railing, and stood there. He tipped onto his toes, peering over the edge, waiting. You could see the hesitation. He looked down, then back at the bucket. But then, he made up his mind. In a split second, he hoisted the bucket and dumped it directly onto a classmate’s head as the boy walked by underneath. The text bubble from Ms. Carter popped up a moment later, a wall of text: [Mrs. Miller, Mason is at a critical developmental stage. Mental health and behavioral issues are serious. Unlike grades or a fever, psychological issues hide deep inside. We need to communicate and solve this immediately before it gets worse.] My chest tightened. She was politely telling me my son was disturbed. [Please come to the school this afternoon. regardless of the ‘why,’ Mason was in the wrong. He needs to apologize to the other student.] I typed back instantly, my fingers shaking. [Absolutely. I’ll be there. Is the other child okay? Do I need to cover a doctor’s visit?] Even in summer, getting doused with water from that height is a shock to the system, both physically and emotionally. [The student cried for a while, but his parents picked him up to change. He seems physically okay. His parents will be back this afternoon for the meeting.] [Okay, Ms. Carter. Thank you. I’ll be there at 5:00 PM sharp.] I took a deep breath, trying to steady my heart rate. My husband, Grant, and I had always been overachievers. Top of the class, Ivy League, the works. Mason was our only child. Grant had massive expectations for him, running a tight ship when it came to academics. Since kindergarten, Mason had been at the top of his class. Teachers loved him. He was sunny, helpful, the kid everyone wanted to be friends with. That’s why this act of bullying terrified me. It was so out of character. I almost forwarded the video to Grant. But I hesitated. He’d been pulling all-nighters working on his tenure review and research papers, barely sleeping. I decided to handle it myself. I checked the time and headed to the mall first. I needed to buy the other kid a new outfit. Whether the parents accepted the apology or not, I had to show that we were taking this seriously. I pulled up the class photo, showed a sales clerk the victim’s size, and bought two high-end outfits. I picked the most expensive options without blinking. Then, I drove to the school. My son did something wrong. As his mother, I couldn’t be late. I wouldn’t give them another reason to be angry. 2 School had just let out when I pulled into the lot. I walked into the main office at the same time Ms. Carter was walking in. Behind her trailed two boys. One was Mason. The other was the victim, Liam. The second Mason saw me, he dropped his head. I looked away, staying silent. Ten minutes later, Liam’s mom rushed in. She zeroed in on me immediately. “You’re Mason’s mom?” I nodded, keeping my expression open and remorseful. “I am. And I am so incredibly sorry. My son hurt your son, and as his mother, I want to apologize first.” I handed her the shopping bag. “Liam’s clothes got soaked, and I know that ruined his day. These are new. It’s a small gesture, but please accept it. Mason was wrong. I’m going to handle this strictly. But I also want to hear from you—whatever you need to make this right, we will do it.” Liam’s mom blinked, caught off guard. She clearly expected a fight, not a humble apology. She took the bag, her expression softening but still wary. “Look, boys roughhouse. I get it. But pouring water from a balcony? That’s dangerous. It’s too much.” “It was completely out of line,” I agreed quickly. “Again, I am so sorry.” She sighed, nodding. “I accept your apology.” She turned to her son. “Liam, do you accept the apology?” Liam nodded, but his eyes darted nervously toward Mason. I turned to my son, who hadn’t said a word. “Mason. Come here. Apologize to Liam and his mother.” Mason looked up at me, his lip trembling, then looked down at his sneakers. “Mom, I don’t want to. I told you, I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. My hand slipped. You have to believe me.” The air in the room instantly turned ice cold. Liam’s mom, who had just calmed down, flared up again. “Excuse me? The teacher saw it. The security cameras saw it. My son didn’t even touch you, and you’re standing there lying about it?” Ms. Carter jumped in, trying to de-escalate, offering Liam’s mom some water. I stepped forward and crouched down to look Mason in the eye. “Mason, I watched the tape. I asked Ms. Carter to ask the other kids because I wanted to be sure you weren’t being framed. They all confirmed it. You did it on purpose. Why are you still lying?” Mason’s head sank lower. His legs were shaking. He was gripping the hem of his t-shirt so hard his knuckles were white. I knew my son. He was terrified. My voice remained calm, but I was vibrating with nerves. “Mason Miller, I am giving you one last chance. Apologize to your classmate.” The silence stretched out, agonizingly long. Finally, Mason choked out a sob. “Mom, why don’t you believe me? I didn’t mean to!” I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I ignored the hateful look Liam’s mom was giving us. I nodded. “Okay, Mason. Go downstairs to the courtyard. Stand right under the balcony and wait for me.” I watched his small back retreat out the door. Then I turned to Liam’s mom. “My child soaked yours. He refuses to own up to it. I think it’s only fair he understands exactly how that feels.” Liam’s mom looked confused. “What do you mean?” “Come with me,” I said. Two minutes later, I stood on the balcony with a basin of water. Mason was standing right where I told him to. I felt sick, but I didn’t hesitate. I tipped the basin and splashed the cold water directly onto my son. 3 Mason shrieked, clutching his wet head, looking up at me in total disbelief. Ms. Carter gasped, her hand covering her mouth. She wanted to stop me, but it was too late. Liam’s mom stared at me, jaw dropped. I turned my back on the balcony and faced her again. “On Monday, Mason will give Liam a proper, sincere apology.” She waved her hands awkwardly, suddenly embarrassed by the intensity of the punishment. “It’s… look, they’re just kids. He’s been punished enough. We… we don’t blame him anymore.” I crouched down to Liam’s level. “Liam, honey, are you still angry?” He shook his head. He thought for a second, then said, “Ms. Jenna, Mason is actually my best friend. He usually helps me. Last time I was sick, he did my class chores for me.” I waited patiently. “Go on.” “I was just mad he soaked me. I felt embarrassed. But I don’t hate him.” I patted his shoulder. “Mason is lucky to have a friend as forgiving as you.” Liam nodded. Then he lowered his voice, glancing at his own mom. “Ms. Jenna… I think I know why he did it.” I froze. “Why?” Liam looked nervous, but his mom nudged him to speak. “Because of the soccer tryouts. I beat Mason in the prelims. Mason told me this match was super important. He said if he didn’t get first place, his dad would be furious.” My brow furrowed. I didn’t know anything about this. Liam was getting worked up now. “His dad told him he has to be number one in school and number one in sports, or else he’s not a ‘good son.’ Last time we were changing for gym, me and the guys saw marks on Mason’s back. Like, red lines. I think his dad hit him…” My temples started throbbing. Liam’s mom lightly tapped her son’s arm. “Liam, don’t make up stories.” She looked at me apologetically. “Kids talk, you know how it is. Don’t take it to heart. It’s getting late, we should go.” I forced a smile. “Right. Drive safe.” After they left, Ms. Carter looked out the window at my shivering son, then turned to me. “Mrs. Miller… does Mason’s father actually talk to him like that?” She chose her words carefully. “He’s young. If a parent pushes too hard, or uses fear to motivate… it twists a child’s thinking.” “Also…” She hesitated. I nodded, cutting her off gently. “I understand. I’m going to have a very serious conversation with his father tonight.” 4 I drove home in silence. Mason sat in the back, head down, shoulders shaking. “Why are you crying?” I asked, pulling the car over to the curb. “Is it because I poured water on you? Or is it something else?” He didn’t answer. I rubbed my temples, exhaustion washing over me. “Mason, you know I think you’re an amazing kid, right?” “And I don’t mean because you get A’s. I mean because you’re generous, and kind, and you help people. You respect us.” I looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Sometimes I ask myself… if you got bad grades, would I still love you?” Mason looked up, his face streaked with tears. “I would,” I said softly. “Because you are my son. Loving you is my instinct. It’s my job. It’s not a reward for performing well for the neighbors.” Fresh tears welled up in his big eyes. He wiped them away furiously with a tissue. “When I was upstairs, Liam told me something. He said if you admit you were wrong, he still wants to be your best friend.” I turned in my seat to face him. “Do you know why he’s willing to forgive you?” Mason shook his head, sniffing. “Because before today, you were good to him. When he was sick, you helped him. When he twisted his ankle during the fire drill, you slowed down to help him down the stairs. That kindness built a bank of trust. You made a withdrawal today, Mason. You hurt him. But he remembers the good version of you. Now, do you still think you weren’t wrong?” “Mom…” Mason broke down, sobbing loudly. “I’m sorry. I know I was wrong.” “Okay,” I said, my voice trembling. “On Monday, you need to tell him that.” “I will.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Okay. That part is settled. Now we need to talk about the other thing.” Fear flashed across Mason’s round face. “You poured water on Liam because you wanted him to get sick so he’d miss the finals on Sunday, didn’t you?” Mason froze. He tried to shrink into the leather seat, avoiding my eyes. “Why would you think like that?” Silence. I took a deep breath. “It’s because of Dad, isn’t it?” “Because Dad told you if you aren’t the best at everything, he won’t love you anymore… or worse.” I closed my eyes, feeling sick. “He’d punish you, right?” “Tell me,” I said, enunciating every word. “Do not lie to me.” Finally, Mason nodded. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just not good enough. That’s why Dad gets mad.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. My hands were shaking on the steering wheel. “No,” I reached back and touched his knee. “That isn’t true. Dad put impossible, cruel pressure on you. You have nothing to be sorry for.” My voice cracked. “Dad is the one who should be sorry.” Mason picked at his fingers nervously. “But Dad… Dad never says sorry.” I looked at the red light glowing through the windshield. I hit the blinker and made a U-turn. “Mom? Aren’t we going home?” “You’re going to stay at Auntie Sarah’s for a few days,” I said, my voice scarily calm. “We aren’t going back until your father apologizes to you.”

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When my crush’s family went bankrupt, I didn’t abandon him. I practically bought Liam Vanderbilt. But his heart belonged to his “white moonlight,” the girl who got away. He didn’t like me. No touching, no looking, and definitely no dessert. Every time I said the wrong thing, he’d threaten to leave my mansion. After he stormed out again, I did what I always did: sent an apology gift to his dingy rental apartment. But ten days passed, and he didn’t come back. Just as I was starting to panic, a wall of floating text—bullet comments—appeared before my eyes. “OMG, the female lead still doesn’t realize she sent the package to the wrong guy?” “She mistyped one digit on the apartment number and sent it straight to the poor scholarship student!” “This is the first time the gloomy villain has ever received a gift in his life, isn’t it?” “There’s a black card with $200k inside! I’m crying. Silas was about to drop out of school… now he can pay tuition.” … “The male lead is kinda pathetic though.” “Waiting for his sugar mama in that rental, eyes red from crying, and she never came.” “He thinks he’s been abandoned!” Chapter 1 Liam Vanderbilt ran away from home again. All because I accidentally knocked over the watch Clara gave him. In a fit of rage, he packed his bags and took the bus back to his old family home in the suburbs. It was the only thing his father left him before committing suicide after the Vanderbilt empire collapsed. A tiny, 500-square-foot studio. The location was terrible—basically the slums. Surrounded by thugs and drifters. Liam couldn’t stand living there, but he’d been a prince too long. He was stubborn and never bowed his head. Every time, I was the one who caved, begging him to come back to my villa. This time was no exception. I looked at my phone. My number was blocked. I opened the shopping app and started ordering gifts. Sneakers, gaming keyboard, mouse, headphones… all the things Liam liked. I also ordered a bouquet of sunflowers, his favorite. Inside, I tucked a bank card and a confession note from the florist. Usually, when I apologized this hard, Liam would unblock me within a week. Then he’d begrudgingly let me pick him up. But this time… It had been over ten days since I sent the package. Silence. Not a peep. It was like he decided to freeze me out completely. Not a single text. Chapter 2 I was confused. What was going on? Did Liam really decide to cut ties with me? I couldn’t sit still anymore. I drove out to the suburbs. It was a cluster of dilapidated apartment buildings. I parked and followed the address old Mr. Vanderbilt left me, searching door to door. I turned the corner to Building 5. Suddenly, I saw a boy walking out, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. It was the exact brand I ordered. And he was wearing the T-shirt I mailed to Liam a few days ago. …What the hell? Did I run into a thief? Or did Liam throw away my gifts, and this guy picked them up? I got out of the car and marched over. I was about to yell, but before I could open my mouth, a barrage of text floated across my vision. “Holy crap, the female lead still doesn’t know she sent the gifts to the wrong person!” “It’s because her phone glitch wiped her address book! She mistyped a digit and sent it straight to the villain’s house!” “Ugh, does the villain really live this poorly? His place looks even worse than Liam’s!” “It’s like 200 square feet. He shares a kitchen with the neighbors…” “Yeah, didn’t you know? The villain is dirt poor, an orphan, bullied since childhood. This is literally the first gift he’s ever received.” “There’s a black card with $200k in there. I’m sobbing. Silas was about to drop out, but now he can pay tuition.” … Wait a minute. What? Silas? Silas Thorne from my school? The super genius who’s always top of the class? How is he the villain? Chapter 3 I froze. I kept reading the comments. According to the original storyline, Silas was supposed to drop out. He was brilliant but destitute. Even with scholarships, he had a sick grandmother and a younger sister to support. He gave up his guaranteed admission to an Ivy League school to work in a factory. Then a fire broke out. A beam fell and crushed his leg. He used half his compensation money for his family and the other half to start a business. He was capable and hardworking. Within a few years, he became a tech tycoon. His future was bright until a competitor framed him, causing him massive losses. That competitor? Liam Vanderbilt. After Silas dropped out, Liam took his spot at the Ivy League. As the “male lead,” Liam’s life was smooth sailing. He made rich friends and got investments from industry bigwigs. Even though his products weren’t as good as Silas’, his connections crushed him. Eventually, Silas snapped. He thought about how Liam had everything only because he, Silas, had to drop out. He went “black.” He became a villain. He started stealing Liam’s projects, contracts, employees, investments… He became a terrifying, unhinged tycoon. I took a deep breath, trying to process this. Just as my brain was melting, another comment popped up. “Lol, look at the female lead’s innocent face.” “She doesn’t know that after the villain turns evil, he not only steals the male lead’s money but also his girl!” “He’s gonna lock her up in a dark room and go crazy. The censors won’t even let us see what happens next!” … EXCUSE ME? Steal me? What did I ever do to him?! The comments seemed to sense my breakdown. “It’s because she was too good to the male lead and ignored the villain. Silas started getting jealous of Liam back then…” “Sigh. If our Spring had been nicer to the villain, maybe she wouldn’t end up in the dark room later. Boohoo.” … I turned my head mechanically. I looked at Silas Thorne, who was hugging my gifts and walking toward his rundown building. A group of neighbors, boys his age with dyed hair who looked like troublemakers, surrounded him. They whistled and teased him. “Ooh, look at Silas! Getting gifts again?” “Who sent it? I’m dying to know!” “Must be a secret admirer. Tsk.” “Isn’t there a card in the flowers? Lemme see!” One of them grabbed Silas by the shoulder and snatched the sunflowers. He ripped out the card. And read it out loud— “I’ve sent you so many things. When will you realize how I feel?” “Can you just…” “Like me back a little bit?” “- Spring.” Chapter 4 “It’s a confession!!!” The gang of punks screamed. They pushed and shoved, acting like they’d seen a ghost. Everyone wanted to see the card. “Who is Spring?” “Is she a nerd like Silas? Some boring good girl?” Immediately— Silas kicked the guy hard. He snatched the card back. The crowd erupted in jeers. A blonde kid whistled. “You don’t know Spring? Spring Vance! The heiress!” “Super rich! Her family does real estate, right? Worth billions!” “I saw her driving an Aston Martin last time. So cool!” “Really? What does it look like?” “Like… hey, isn’t that one right there?” …Silence. Everyone turned to look at me. I didn’t have time to hide. Our eyes met. Silas was still holding the sunflowers. When he saw me, his face turned bright red. The punks exploded. “Spring Vance!” “That’s the heiress!” “Holy sh*t, she actually came here to find Silas!” “Silas, why are you standing there like a log? Go over there, you nerd!” “Don’t keep the lady waiting!” “Go!”

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I was taking my mom to a U-Pick farm for fresh cherries when she suddenly dropped a bomb. “You know, you’re actually kind of cheap.” I looked up, a bit slow on the uptake, and stared at her. “Why would you say that?” “I mean, sure, you have money, but sometimes you really don’t measure up to your sister.” “To put it plainly, you’re a penny-pincher.” She emphasized the words, her tone dripping with righteous indignation as she repeated herself. “Sometimes you look generous. You give me cash, you buy the groceries and household stuff. But you never take me out to eat at nice restaurants. Your sister is different. She always treats me.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. That lunch Chloe paid for two weeks ago. That was still stuck in her craw. She just couldn’t let it go. 1 Two weeks ago, Dad got into a car accident and broke his arm. I was the one who rushed him to the ER, ran up and down stairs handling insurance, paying the deductibles, and hiring a home health aide. By the time my little sister, Chloe, finally showed up, I had basically done all the heavy lifting. So, Chloe decided to treat us to a meal at a Panera Bread across the street from the hospital. At the time, Mom’s face was already dark. She kept shooting me looks, hinting heavily: “You’re the big sister.” I sighed, resigned to my fate, and reached for my phone to pay. The bill was maybe fifty bucks. Tops. I really didn’t want Mom sulking over fifty dollars, giving me the cold shoulder because I didn’t reach for my wallet fast enough. But Chloe was faster. She waved her phone playfully. “Already Venmo’d the register. It’s done.” Mom looked absolutely horrified. She asked Chloe, “Where did you get the money? You spent over a hundred just Ubering here! With me and your sister here, why on earth should you have to pay?” Chloe, afraid I’d get mad, shot me a secret, helpless little smile. Then she linked arms with Mom and whined cutely. “Mom, who cares who pays? Sis already covered the hospital deposit and the nurse fees. There’s no reason I can’t cover the small stuff.” “Once we find the driver who hit Dad, insurance will reimburse all that. Your sister is just floating the cash, it’s not like she’s losing it.” Mom muttered under her breath, clearly unconvinced. But in reality, when Mom got the settlement check later, she never paid me back a dime. Honestly? I didn’t care about that. Dad was hurt. It was my duty to step up. I didn’t feel unbalanced about the money. What hurt was that Mom wouldn’t shut up about that damn lunch Chloe paid for. “We shouldn’t have let your sister pay. Her job is so unstable, she works one month and takes two off. She can barely feed herself.” “Chloe paid for lunch. You know, Harper, you really rode your sister’s coattails on that one.” I spent thousands. Chloe spent fifty. And in the end, I was the one mooching off her? I was at my breaking point, ready to snap back. But I saw Dad on the hospital bed, shaking his head at me desperately. For the sake of my injured father, I didn’t scream at my mother right there in the ward. But all afternoon… Mom called her friends, FaceTimed the aunts, chatted with the neighbors. She told everyone. Chloe bought lunch. It was headline news. And me? I craned my neck to listen, only to hear her whisper-complaining: “The youngest is just so thoughtful. She knew we hadn’t eaten all morning and took us out immediately.” “The oldest sat there all morning and didn’t even think to grab me a bagel.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I made up an excuse, turned around, and walked out. Tears were streaming down my face before I hit the elevator. It wasn’t that I didn’t care she was hungry. I was too busy to think. Admissions paperwork, CT scans, co-pays, dealing with the police report, finding a caregiver. When did I have a second to breathe? I always knew Mom played favorites. back in college, the deal was that Chloe and I both got $1,000 a month for living expenses. But between textbooks, lab fees, food, and basic survival, I was always broke. Chloe, somehow, always had extra cash. Mom always scolded me, saying I wasn’t as sensible as Chloe, that I didn’t care about my parents’ money, that I didn’t know how to budget. Every time I asked for money, I got a lecture. Occasionally, I’d starve myself to stay under budget, but Mom wouldn’t even send the check on time. She’d delay it a few days. To “build my character.” 2 I lived in constant anxiety. Every month, I prayed the transfer wouldn’t be late. But I never dared to demand anything from Mom. Because she always shut me down with one sentence: “How come Chloe has enough? How come she never nags me?” Yeah, I didn’t get it either. I was being cheap as hell. I was rationing tampons. Why was I still drowning? It wasn’t until years after graduation, during a casual chat with Chloe, that I found out the truth. Yeah, the cash allowance was $1,000. But Mom paid for everything else separately. Textbooks, Sephora hauls, snacks—Mom ordered them on Amazon and shipped them directly to Chloe’s dorm. Even her meal plan was prepaid each semester—thousands of dollars I didn’t know about. Chloe’s $1,000 was just for fun. She didn’t know how to spend it all. And me? I had nothing. Everything I needed had to come out of that grand. One Thanksgiving, Mom brought out her special pot roast for guests. Chloe and I both loved it. When we were leaving, Mom packed a huge Tupperware container for Chloe. She didn’t even mention it to me. Dad, feeling the awkwardness, quickly spoke up: “Pack a bag for Harper, too.” Mom curled her lip in disdain. “It’s just leftovers.” She spoke slowly. But her eyes were fixed on me. Then she asked, hesitating, “Do you even want it?” I held back the tears stinging my eyes and shook my head violently. “No. I don’t like it.” She let out a sigh of relief, like she’d been pardoned, and smiled at Dad. “See? I said she didn’t want it. She’s so picky, she’d never want these scraps.” It hurt too much. I rushed out to my car, ready to leave. But Mom chased after me. She completely flipped her attitude, smiling brightly as she shoved a greasy bag into my hands. “Just take it. Your dad insists.” “If you don’t take it, he’s going to fight with me again.” I sighed quietly and took it. When I got home and opened it, I realized it wasn’t the roast she made. Her roast was savory and tender. This was dry, bland meat. It was the leftovers from my Aunt’s house that Mom didn’t want to eat herself. I remembered her heating it up earlier, muttering, “This tastes like cardboard. I should just regift it.” Oh. So I was the garbage disposal. And now, standing in this cherry orchard, listening to her bring up the lunch Chloe paid for again? I snapped. “Mom, the duvet covers, the sheets, the fruit, the snacks, the toilet paper, even the AC unit and the 65-inch TV in your living room—I bought all of that. I Venmo you thousands for every birthday and holiday. Have you ever calculated how much that is? Yet you’re obsessed with the fifty bucks Chloe spent, repeating over and over how I mooched off her. How about this: from now on, let her buy that stuff. I’ll PayPal her a hundred bucks right now to cover that lunch. Will that buy your silence?” “If this is how you keep score, then fine. Let Chloe have the ‘privilege’ of paying for everything. I’ll take the hit on being ‘cheap,’ okay?” My voice was shaking, throat tight. Mom was startled. Her eyes went wide. “Why are you so unstable? We’re just chatting, why are you throwing a tantrum?” “I don’t have a degree like you, I don’t know what’s PC to say and what isn’t. Do you really need to nitpick your own mother? I never said you didn’t spend money. I admitted you buy things. I’m just saying that when it comes to dining out, you aren’t as thoughtful or classy as your sister. Did I lie?” 3 “Honestly. Can’t even open my mouth around you.” “Don’t ever ask me out again. Dragging me out in this heat… acting like I owe you something.” “I was in a good mood, and now you’ve ruined it with your screaming.” She looked at me like I was bad luck personified. She grabbed the baskets of cherries we’d picked and started walking out. From a distance, I heard her tell the farmer, “My daughter will get the bill,” before walking to the road to hail a cab. I stood there, heart filled with frustration and humiliation. I deeply regretted asking her out. Actually, I didn’t ask her out. She called me yesterday saying she craved cherries. I offered to Instacart some. She said she wanted “fresh off the tree.” I canceled my meetings, skipped breakfast, and drove her here. And she left me in the dust. In the past, I would have told myself: She’s getting old, she’s confused, let it go. But this string of events was too much. She was being too cruel. I couldn’t gaslight myself anymore. I decided to let my anger breathe. I wasn’t bowing my head this time. There was one loose end, though. A month ago, Mom mentioned she wanted a Roomba. She said sweeping was hurting her back. She wanted to wait until the weather cooled down to go shopping for it. Usually, if I took her, I’d be the one paying. I’ve fought with Mom before. But I was always the one to break the ice, to apologize. This time, I wondered… If I went no-contact, if I didn’t mention the Roomba, what would she do? Even if she reached out, I knew it didn’t mean she cared about me. But I was curious. Would she initiate contact, even if just for a machine? The answer came three months later. She texted me. But the content shocked me. “You don’t need to take me to buy that robot vacuum anymore.” [Why?] “I asked around. Those things eat electricity. It’ll cost sixty or seventy bucks a month to run. That’s almost a grand a year. Too expensive. I don’t deserve to use it.” My fingers hovered over the screen. I paused, then typed back casually: [It’s not that expensive. Modern ones are energy efficient. It won’t cost that much.] [But it’s up to you. If you don’t want it, that saves me the trip.] I saw the “typing…” bubble bobbing for ages. But two hours passed. Not a word. When I tried to send another message, I got the “Not Delivered” error. She blocked me. I got it. Her passive-aggressive “I don’t deserve it” was code for: Tell me you’ll pay the electric bill too, and then I’ll happily go buy it. I knew the game. But I was done playing. I didn’t say it. At this point, I was heartbroken and disillusioned, but not entirely dead inside yet. I wasn’t thinking about cutting her off financially forever. I just wanted to stop being invisible. I wanted her to acknowledge my existence, my contributions. On the day we were originally supposed to buy the vacuum… Early in the morning, Dad called. He asked casually when I’d be there and if I wanted breakfast. I feigned surprise. “Dad? I’m at work. What’s up?” 4 “Wasn’t today the day you were taking Mom to get that sweeping robot thing? Why are you at work?” “I was going to take PTO, but Mom said she didn’t want it anymore. So I didn’t request the day off.” “Well, request it now. We’re waiting for you.” Dad sounded helpless. But I refused. “Can’t do it, Dad. Need 24-hour notice. It’s too busy here. We’ll do it another time.” Mom must have been listening. She exploded in the background. “I told you not to call! She’s just talking pretty, you think she actually wants to come? God, I’m embarrassed for you! Hang up! Stop bothering her high-and-mighty career!” Her shrill voice dripped with sarcasm. The call ended. Dad texted me on WeChat. His tone was accusatory. “You know how your mother is. She said she didn’t want it because she was mad at you. If you don’t come coax her, why are you taking her literally?” “Dad, Mom blocked me. How do I coax her? Besides, she’s an adult. She said no. Was I supposed to kidnap her to Best Buy?” Meanwhile, Mom posted a video in the four-person Family Group Chat. The title was: “When old people are annoying, do they deserve to die?” Chloe, oblivious to the war zone, popped in with a joke: “Who was brave enough to piss off Mom? Name them, I’ll fight ’em.” “Is it Dad? Apologize now, or your favorite daughters are gonna be mad.” “It wasn’t your father.” “Thank god I have you, Chloe. Otherwise, your mother would die of a broken heart.” Mom’s targeting was laser-focused. Dad @-mentioned me in the group: “@Harper regardless of who is right, you’re the child. Bowing your head won’t kill you. Just apologize.” He then @-mentioned Mom: “And you, stop holding grudges against your own kid. Stop spiraling. We’ll go tomorrow. Harper will take the day off.” “Right, Harper?” Chloe finally smelled the smoke. She DM’d me: “What happened, Sis? Did you fight with Mom?” “No. Just a misunderstanding.” I replied to Chloe, then explained in the big group. “Mom, I’m not breaking a promise. You said you didn’t want to go. That’s why I’m at work.” “You blocked me for no reason. I don’t know what I did. Now you’re doing this. I really don’t know what I did wrong. If you want the vacuum, just tell me. I’ll take off tomorrow. But I can’t guess your mind games anymore. I’m too tired.” “Dad, can we change the dynamic in this house? If you need something, or if I messed up, just say it. We’re family. Why do I have to be a mind reader to make you happy?” Dad replied instantly: “Yes, yes, Harper is right. Come home tomorrow, we’ll lecture your mom together.” Then he DM’d me privately: “Just take the day off. I’ll work on your mother. I’ll drag her there if I have to.” I felt a wave of exhaustion. But I held my ground in the group chat: “Dad, that doesn’t work. I need Mom to say it. Does she want me to come tomorrow? I’m done being the bad guy.”

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My husband, Robert, took our five-year-old daughter, Lily, to a client dinner with Ava, the woman he’d always loved. During the dinner, he sent Lily out alone to a pharmacy to buy allergy medicine for Ava. While crossing an intersection, our daughter was hit by a speeding motorcycle and thrown dozens of feet. The hospital called me. When I arrived, Lily was still clutching the box of allergy medicine in her tiny hand. With her last ounce of strength, she whispered, “Mommy, Auntie Ava… medicine…” After she closed her eyes, her hand fell limp, and the box of pills clattered to the floor. My world shattered. I called Robert dozens of times before he finally picked up. But before I could scream at him, his voice cut through the line, sharp and angry. “I sent Lily to get the medicine, where is she? Call her and hurry her up, Ava’s waiting!” He hung up before I could speak. When I tried to call back, I found he had blocked my number. Fine. In that case, your precious Ava can join my daughter in the grave. 1 I spent the entire next day making arrangements for my daughter. The hospital staff looked at me with eyes full of pity. For a full forty-eight hours, there was not a single word from my daughter’s father. A decade of love, gone in an instant. I didn’t eat or drink. I just printed the divorce papers and waited. I waited all day for him to come home. When he finally walked through the door, his first words to me were: “Where’s the medicine I told you to have Lily bring? Did she take a detour to the moon? Do you have any idea she put Ava in the hospital for two days?” A cold, bitter laugh threatened to escape my lips. She took a detour to heaven, actually. He yanked off his jacket with an air of profound irritation and threw it on the sofa. The scent of a woman’s perfume I didn’t recognize assaulted my senses. I wrinkled my nose and reflexively took an allergy pill from the drawer. He saw the movement, his eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to pull?” he snapped. “Ava has an alcohol allergy, so you have to copy her? If she’s in the hospital, why aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Where’s Lily? Get her out here right now to apologize to Ava! It’s a testament to Ava’s kindness that she isn’t blaming her. She’s covered in a rash and still defending your daughter! Look at how you’ve spoiled that child.” “I’m going to teach her a lesson today!” I forced down the inferno raging in my chest and slapped the divorce papers down on the coffee table in front of him. “Sign them. You don’t need to trouble my daughter anymore. You have no right to discipline her. I’ll get out of your way.” My words ignited his fury. He stomped on the papers, grinding them into a mangled pulp under his shoe. “Your daughter did something wrong, and now you’re throwing a tantrum? Just because Ava is forgiving doesn’t mean I’ll continue to indulge Lily’s behavior!” he roared. “I try to discipline my own child and you want a divorce? Are you insane?” Every word was a hammer blow, turning my heart to bloody ruin. I shot to my feet, the world turning black for a moment. I steadied myself, my voice shaking with restrained violence. “Discipline her? What exactly did my daughter do wrong? What heinous crime did she commit that required you, her father, to send her out alone at night to buy medicine? Do you have any idea what happened to her on the way—” “Oh, for God’s sake, are you ever going to shut up?” Robert cut me off, his voice laced with venom. “What’s the big deal? I sent her to buy medicine. The streets are full of people, what could possibly happen? Did she run to you crying again? Why is she so coddled!” He roughly pulled a small, gift-wrapped box from his suit pocket and slammed it down in front of me. “Is this enough to shut you up? Now get Lily out here. I’ll talk to her myself. From now on, when I discipline her, you stay out of it!” Looking at his face, I suddenly realized there was no point in telling him about Lily. He didn’t care. He only cared if his precious Ava had been slighted, if my daughter had inconvenienced her in any way. With that realization, a mocking smile spread across my face. I reached for the perfume box and opened it. It was the same scent that clung to his jacket. He couldn’t even be bothered to come up with a separate gesture for me; he just bought two of whatever he got for Ava, like tossing a coin to a beggar. Every perfume on the market contains alcohol. I’m severely allergic to it; I’ve never been able to wear any. But Ava, who so famously claimed to share my allergy, adored perfume. He had never been interested enough to notice the contradiction, and he certainly wouldn’t waste his time trying to understand. There was a time when any gift from him, no matter how small, would fill me with joy. Because I loved him. So I valued everything he gave me. Perhaps that was why he thought my love was so cheap. So cheap that he could trample my daughter’s life into the dirt without a second thought. The thought of Lily made my eyes burn. “Just sign the papers,” I said, my voice flat. “Lily will never bother you again. My daughter doesn’t need anyone’s forgiveness. She did nothing wrong.” Her only mistake was being born into this family. My stubbornness made his face darken. “Are you done? I gave you a gift, what more do you want? Our daughter is this old and now you want a divorce? I’m warning you, if we divorce, you can forget about getting custody of Lily!” “I’ve been too good to you,” he spat. “You don’t know what’s good for you.” Having vented his spleen, he turned and stormed off toward the bedroom. This was the first time in ten years I had ever been cold to him. He probably thought it was just another one of my jealous fits. He’d take a nap, wake up to find dinner waiting, and our cold war would end as it always did. But this time, it wasn’t the cold war I wanted to end. It was us. I left the keys and the signed papers on the table and walked out of the home I had lived in for five years. 2 I had a crush on Robert for five years, and we were married for five more. For our relationship to begin, my mother paid with her life. For it to end, my daughter paid with hers. My mother was the housekeeper for the Hayes family. She took care of Robert’s mother for half her life, a model of diligence and devotion. The Hayes family adored her, giving her a raise almost every year. One day, she was accompanying Mrs. Hayes on a shopping trip when they were attacked by a kidnapper—a businessman driven to desperation after being ruined in a deal. He wanted to hold Mrs. Hayes for ransom. My mother didn’t hesitate. She threw herself at him. The kidnapper, stunned that an old woman would dare to intervene, panicked and pulled a knife. My mother fought with all her remaining strength, managing to delay him just long enough for the police to arrive. Mrs. Hayes was safe. The kidnapper was arrested. Only my mother was left, bleeding out on the pavement. Mrs. Hayes, pale with shock, knelt by her side, talking to her, begging her to hold on until the ambulance arrived. But my mother knew her time was short. With her last breath, she thought of me, her only daughter. She knew I had feelings for Robert, and so she made her final request to Mrs. Hayes. Mrs. Hayes was taken aback. She knew Robert had his own great love, Ava. But as she watched the life drain from my mother, as the hand she was holding grew weaker and weaker, she made a promise through her tears. Just before my mother passed, she swore that I would marry into the Hayes family. My mother died in peace. While making her funeral arrangements, everyone tried to console me. I had lost my mother, but I had secured a lifetime of wealth and comfort. No one knew that I would have rather been alone for the rest of my life than lose my mom. My father died when I was young; she was all I had. She never knew how much she meant to me. On my wedding day, Mrs. Hayes held my hand, her voice choked with sobs. “Your mother can finally rest easy…” My eyes were vacant, my face ashen. But thinking of my mother’s dying wish, I nodded resolutely. Robert was the perfect gentleman in front of our guests. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe I had found my partner for life. But after the wedding, when we were finally alone, he leaned in close, his voice a cold whisper in my ear. “You traded your mother’s life for this wedding. Are you satisfied now?” “I don’t love you,” he continued, “but I will honor my mother’s promise. I will play the part. In this play, I am your husband. Offstage, my heart belongs to another.” He was true to his word. In public, he gave me all the respect and dignity befitting Mrs. Hayes. But our marriage was a hollow shell, a truth only I had to live with. The day our daughter was born, he didn’t smile once. He just looked at me and said, “Now my debt is paid. My mother’s debt is paid.” I thought that as Lily grew, his heart might eventually find its way home. How foolish I was. After Lily was born, the only one trapped was me. A marriage bought with one life, now ended by another. 3 After leaving that house, I took my daughter’s ashes and moved back into the cramped old apartment my mom and I used to share. It took three days of waiting in line just to secure a burial plot. Finally, the day of the interment arrived. I had just opened my door when someone kicked it open, sending me sprawling to the floor. The urn nearly slipped from my grasp. I looked up into Robert’s furious eyes. His precious Ava stood behind him, flanked by bodyguards, her face hidden behind a white mask. Before I could react, Robert stepped over me and stormed into the apartment, bellowing Lily’s name. He kicked open every door, but found no sign of a small child. His patience evaporated. He strode back to me, squatted down, and grabbed me by the collar. “Where is she?” he snarled. “Get her out here!” Seeing his face, twisted with rage, my grip on the urn tightened. “I told you, you don’t have the right to even say her name! Now take your mistress and get out of my home!” My words fanned the flames of his anger. His gaze was a poisoned dagger. “Watch your mouth, or I’ll be happy to teach you some manners! You coached our daughter to do something this vicious, and when I want her to apologize, you try to stop me? Have I been too lenient with you?” My blood ran cold. A terrible premonition washed over me. “What did Lily do? I’m here now, don’t you dare try to pin anything on my daughter!” I had thought, for a fleeting, foolish moment, that he had heard about the accident and had come to mourn with me. Reality slapped me across the face once again. Seeing us argue, Ava slowly approached. She pulled down her mask, revealing a face covered in an angry red rash. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked pleadingly at Robert. “It’s okay, Robert. Maybe the child didn’t know what it was. She didn’t mean to give me an allergic reaction…” Her words only made Robert angrier. “Ava, stop defending that little brat! Clara coached her to ruin your face, and your indulgence is only going to make her worse!” I stared at him, my expression a mask of disbelief. “Robert, that is your daughter! What are you saying? What are you going to do to your own child for this… this whore?!” My daughter was gone, and this woman still wouldn’t leave her in peace. Robert’s hand shot out, and the crack of his palm against my cheek echoed in the hallway. The stinging pain ripped away the last of my self-control. “I told you to watch your mouth!” he roared. “Your mother died, was there no one left to teach you how to speak?” “You coached Lily to pour a whole bottle of rubbing alcohol into Ava’s face cream! You know she’s allergic! How could you be so malicious? And now you’re trying to use a five-year-old as your accomplice? What kind of mother are you?” His accusation finally broke me. “She’s five years old!” I shrieked. “How would she even know what rubbing alcohol is? Besides, the smell is so strong, anyone with a nose would have noticed it! It evaporates! How could anyone possibly put that on their face? Robert, have you lost your mind in your quest for revenge for her?!” I screamed until my throat was raw, trying to expel five years of misery. But Robert’s voice was louder. “The only person who went into Ava’s room was Lily! We don’t even have a maid! Who else could it have been?” he bellowed. “It’s all on the security camera, crystal clear, and you’re still trying to deny it? Once I’ve spoken to Lily, I’m turning you over to the police!” “Enough of this nonsense. Bring Lily out. Now!” 4 “The camera?” I gritted out. “Show it to me. I will not let anyone slander my daughter!” Robert furiously tapped his phone and threw it at me. On the screen, a small figure in a dress identical to the one Lily was wearing on the day of the accident, her face obscured by a fisherman’s hat, tiptoed into a bedroom. She stood at a vanity, took a small bottle from her bag, and poured its contents into a jar of face cream. The video ended there. The timestamp was from two days ago. By then, Lily had already been cremated. A cold, mirthless laugh escaped me, and tears streamed down my face. Ava chose that moment to speak. “Clara, I just want to understand why she did this to me. I don’t mean anything else by it. A child can still be taught right from wrong. You can’t encourage her to do these things.” Hearing her so brazenly frame my dead child, I scrambled to my feet and spat in her rash-covered face. “Don’t you dare talk about my daughter! You have no right! You come here with your fabricated evidence without even knowing who was in that video? Is that how desperate you are to become Mrs. Hayes?” My defiance was the final straw. Robert’s rage exploded. He kicked me hard in the stomach. A cry of pain escaped me as my hands went slack. The urn slipped from my grasp and crashed to the floor. The lid popped off, and as the urn rolled, the ashes—a stark, heartbreaking grey against the concrete—spilled across the floor. For a moment, all pain vanished. My world narrowed to that patch of grey dust. A raw, animalistic scream tore from my throat. Ignoring the agony in my stomach, I fell to my knees, trying to shield the ashes with my body. Robert jerked his chin at the bodyguards. One on each side, they hauled me to my feet. My eyes remained fixed on my daughter’s scattered remains. My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. “Where is our daughter?” Robert’s voice was a low, menacing growl. “Speak. This is your last chance.” I didn’t hear him. I was frozen, trapped in a waking nightmare. He nodded slowly. “Fine. You won’t talk? You like ruining people’s faces, is that it?” He took a bottle of medical-grade alcohol from one of the bodyguards and poured it onto the floor, turning my daughter’s ashes into a grey slurry. He bent down, scooped up a handful, and brutally smeared it across my face. The cold shock made me tremble. He ground the mixture into my skin with more force. “I’m giving you a facial, on the house. Do you like it? Speak! I asked you a question!” The alcohol hit the raw skin on my cheek where he had slapped me. Pain, sharp and blinding, contorted my features. My screams echoed in the dilapidated hallway. “You want a divorce? You’ve got it!” Robert yelled over my cries. “And you can forget about ever seeing Lily again!” He wiped his hands on a bodyguard’s sleeve and took out his phone. “Get the police,” he barked into the phone to his assistant. “I want them to tear this city apart to find my daughter. And get our lawyers to draft the divorce papers. I want full custody.” There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. Then, the assistant’s voice, small and timid, trickled through the speaker. “Mr. Hayes… your daughter… she’s passed away. She was cremated… It was the same night you and Ms. Vance were at that dinner. The cause of death was a motorcycle collision.” “Because I couldn’t reach you, I took the liberty of helping Mrs. Hayes arrange for a burial plot. Today… today was supposed to be the interment…”

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When my childhood best friend was surrounded by fire, he calmly looked in my direction. I knew he had reincarnated, too. Suddenly, a stream of comments flashed across my vision. “LOL, the thirsty female side character is going to rescue the male lead again.” “Wait for the female side character to save the male lead, get sixth-degree burns, and be shipped off to the sticks. Then the male lead can introduce the poor female lead as the fake daughter to the side character’s family. Childhood romance trope, so sweet.” “Our pure female lead just wants a home. The reborn male lead definitely won’t let the side character return to threaten her happiness.” Is that so? What if, in this life, the one who gets sixth-degree burns is my childhood friend, not me? Chapter 1 The fire crackled loudly. The hot, scorching smoke made it impossible to breathe. “Coral, don’t worry about me. Run!” That familiar scene and voice made my entire body tense up. I thought I was dead. Dead, after my childhood friend and the fake heiress tormented me. Dead, caught in a once-in-a-century blizzard. “It’s okay, even if I die here, it doesn’t matter. As long as you live, that’s all that counts.” “Coral, you’re the kindest, most innocent girl I’ve ever met. I just wish I had met you sooner in the next life to protect you.” Anyone hearing those passionate, sorrowful words would feel compelled to stay. In my past life, I was fooled by them. But in this life, my heart is colder than a sword forged in the mountains for sixteen years. I looked up and met the flawlessly handsome face of my childhood friend, Henry Wen. His expression seemed fearful, but his eyes held an unsettling calm. With that single glance, I knew he had been reborn, too. I curved my lips, about to speak, when a stream of comments flashed across my vision. “LOL, the thirsty female side character is going to rescue the male lead again.” “Wait for the female side character to save the male lead, get sixth-degree burns, and be shipped off to the sticks. Then the male lead can introduce the poor female lead as the fake daughter to the side character’s family. Childhood romance trope, so sweet.” “Our pure female lead just wants a home. The reborn male lead definitely won’t let the side character return to threaten her happiness.” Oh, how amusing. Not only am I reborn, but I can also see these bizarre comments. This second life is going to be far more entertaining. Chapter 2 Just like in the past life, I said, sounding frantic: “Coco! I won’t let you die!” Henry curved his lips into a mocking smile, but just as his smile peaked, I spoke again. “You wait here! I’m going to call the cops and get help!” “Henry, wait for me!” With that, I turned and ran. I ran so fast I almost stumbled and fell. I wasn’t rushing to save him, but this fire was going to spread rapidly. The area was full of dry brush, and it could easily get out of control. Even though the fire didn’t spread in the previous life, I couldn’t risk it. My life is valuable. I have to stay alive until these scumbags are dead! Henry watched me run until I was far away, realizing I wasn’t joking. He started yelling for help. “Help!—Help me!” “Skylar Li! Come save me! I’m going to burn to death!” Hearing that, I finally stopped. Relief flashed in his eyes, but when he saw me simply standing there, arms crossed, watching lazily, he panicked for real. He tried to save himself, rushing toward the ring of fire, desperate to escape. But the idiot was too busy posing. The fire was much bigger than he anticipated. He even deliberately sent the housekeeper away and told the security guards he was setting off fireworks so they wouldn’t disturb him. He wanted the fire to spread quickly so I would burn. Now he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. The comments section exploded. “Is this side character crazy? Why isn’t she saving the male lead!” “WTF, is the handsome male lead going to die in the first chapter?” “No way! He’s the male lead, the Chosen One! Others might die, but he’ll probably just get burned, then get reconstructive surgery to look even hotter. That’s the standard trope.” I smirked. I don’t know who’s posting these comments, but they’re all idiots. Henry can’t get plastic surgery because he has a tendency to keloid scarring. And the Wen family isn’t as wealthy as mine. He absolutely cannot and will not be reborn as a success. I swear, even Jesus can’t help him! … Five minutes later, a passing neighbor heard his cries for help and frantically called the police and an ambulance. I watched him being carried away on a stretcher from a distance. The white sheet didn’t cover his face, which told me the jerk wasn’t dying yet. Good. Chapter 3 After a night of emergency surgery, Henry woke up. His proudly long legs were amputated, and his handsome face was melted by the flames. The smell of burned flesh permeated the air. Henry’s parents almost passed out from grief. This was their only son. When my parents and I stepped into the hospital room, Henry, numb and despairing from the pain, instantly roared with incandescent fury: “Skylar Li! I was so good to you! How could you just watch me burn?” “Do you know my leg was amputated? I’ll never stand again! I have sixth-degree burns and I’m crippled! You could have just reached out and saved me! Why were you so cruel? Why did you ruin me? What did I ever do to deserve this? Are you happy now that you see me like this?” His desperate accusations sounded like a spiteful woman. He looked nothing like the refined, gentle boy he used to be. I wasn’t this unhinged when he ruined me in the past life. I pursed my lips, feigning innocent distress. “Henry, how could you accuse me? Everyone knows I do whatever you tell me.” “You set the fire! You drew that big circle with gasoline and said you were going to show me a magic trick! I thought you were putting on a show again. And you kept insisting I leave. I thought it was part of the act, so I listened and left!” Henry’s mom wiped her tears, complaining. “You left, but you should have called the police! How could you just watch him burn like that?” I spread my hands, looking even more innocent. “I didn’t leave. I was standing right there, watching Henry’s performance.” Henry’s mom’s face went white with anger. She was about to point at me, but Henry’s dad stopped her, trying to soothe her. “Calm down. It’s over now. Henry did set the fire, and he did tell Skylar to leave. She’s only twelve. It’s normal for her to think it was a magic trick.” My parents had already heard my side of the story on the way over. While I might have been partially involved, they couldn’t blame me entirely. My mom quickly added: “We’re so sorry. We spoiled Coco too much. We truly apologize for this.” “I’ve already spoken to the hospital director. They’re contacting the best specialists globally for Henry’s treatment. Technology is so advanced now, he’ll be able to get prosthetic legs soon and walk again. Please let us know if you need anything at all.” Ha, dream on. My parents spent a fortune in the past life trying to get me back on my feet. It was useless. His injuries were too severe. The amputation went up to his thigh, and he damaged his reproductive organs. He’ll never have children unless he’s getting cheated on. Chapter 4 My dad gently patted Henry’s dad on the shoulder, sighing. “I know our children are our lives. I understand how you feel.” “But life must go on, no matter how hard it is. Once you’ve recovered, let’s start the wind power project together. The approval documents just came through.” Instantly, Henry’s parents’ expressions softened. They were just waiting for my dad to say that. After all, their son was crippled—that’s a fact. And it was his own fault. Blaming me was pointless. Better to exchange the misery for a multi-billion dollar partnership. Henry’s dad nodded. “You’re right. We have to keep living.” Henry expected his parents to demand justice for him, to make me pay a painful price. Instead, he realized they were using him as a tool for business interests. He was so angry his face turned crimson. He was about to curse me, when I leaned in and whispered mockingly in his ear. “Henry, I lied to them just now.” “I knew you weren’t doing a magic trick, and I deliberately didn’t save you. You can forget about advanced prosthetic legs. The scars will be permanent.” “I personally ruined you, but this is just the beginning.” The words were devastating. So devastating that his hysterical screams started only after I pretended to tuck him in. “Skylar Li, you bitch! You devil!” “Mom, Dad, she just admitted it! It was all deliberate! She wanted to ruin me! No, she wanted to kill me!” “Mom, Dad, you have to kill her! Kill her—” He didn’t finish. Henry’s dad angrily yelled at him. “Henry Wen!” “Are you done throwing a fit? You’re still trying to blame Skylar!” “You set the fire yourself, and you told the security guards it was fireworks so they wouldn’t check! Everything that happened is your own damn fault! Be thankful Skylar didn’t get hurt, or your life wouldn’t be enough to pay for it!” Henry was so enraged he started spitting up blood. Doctors and nurses rushed him to the operating room for emergency treatment. The comments section was livid. “WTF, the side character is seriously insane! Absolutely unhinged!” “Did the side character reincarnate too? She’s brutal! Her words are murderous. It’s pathetic how the male lead is being destroyed by her.” “Honestly, this psycho side character is kinda hot. The male lead wanted to kill her, and she reversed the outcome. That’s fair.” “Haha, when you put it that way, it’s actually pretty cool.” I smiled. Of course, it’s cool. Compared to the hypocritical male lead and the weak, fake female lead, a vicious side character like me is much more entertaining. I’m ready to kill them both. Don’t bother trying to bind me with morality. A devil who clawed her way out of hell has no morals whatsoever. Chapter 5 The national wind power project was a massive opportunity. So tempting that Henry’s parents quickly forgot about their son still in the hospital. And I, the vicious side character, used the excuse of taking care of him to visit the hospital every day, just to provoke and disgust him. I read him the love letters I received. I danced the ballet I just learned right in front of him. Dancing alone is boring, so I brought a handsome, gentle boy to dance with me. I frequently brought his former rivals to visit him. I shared good news, like getting first place in the entrance exam… He couldn’t take it anymore and complained to his parents, begging them to keep me away. Henry’s dad was furious, accusing him of being ungrateful. He said I was so busy, yet I made time to visit and even brought friends to cheer him up. He called Henry a spoiled brat. Henry developed full-blown depression. I used the opportunity to suggest: “Maybe the hospital environment isn’t good for Henry’s recovery.” “My family owns a villa in the countryside. The scenery is beautiful, the people are kind, and the food is all organic and healthy. With a private nurse and two caregivers, the recovery results would be much better than here.” “Then we can get Henry the most advanced prosthetic legs, and he can play basketball again.” Henry’s dad instantly agreed. “You’re so thoughtful, Coco. We’re too busy to be with him.” The decision was finalized then and there. He was sent to the countryside that afternoon. He fought and screamed and threatened a hunger strike. But what could he do? They just packed him up and put him in the car. He didn’t even have the strength to fight back. The comments lit up. “The side character is a poison! So cruel! The poor male lead is ruined…” “This plot is familiar. Is the side character planning to do everything the male lead did to her, back to him?” “Who says the side character has to die? This counterattack is so satisfying!” “What if the side character takes a cute guy and trains him to be her submissive boyfriend? That would be so hot.” Even the cutest guy wouldn’t be as handsome as the male lead, right? The male lead is the handsomest. Wait, there’s a major villain, Alec Lin, who’s supposedly just as handsome. But Alec’s ruthlessness matches his good looks. He’s a cold-hearted bastard. “If the side character and the ultimate villain team up, the destruction of the world is basically imminent.”

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1 I was doing a stunt for a fight scene when the film’s “It Girl” stabbed me for real, landing me in the hospital. My A-list actor boyfriend, Zane, rushed to my side, fussing over me with worried questions. Before I could even feel a flicker of warmth, a line of text materialized above his head: [When is Sienna going to realize the A-lister bound her to that wannabe Roxy with a Beauty System?] [Whatever part of her body Sienna obsesses over, that same part on Roxy becomes even more perfect!] A second later, my agent of five years, Cole, hurried in. Another line of text appeared: [The agent’s just as bad. He’s bound her with an Achievement System. The harder Sienna works, the more successful Roxy becomes!] I looked at the two men in front of me and fell into a deep, unsettling thought. So… all I have to do is stop giving a damn. … As the text continued to scroll, a chill crept into my heart. How could this be possible? The two most important men in my life were using me, sacrificing me for someone else? Just then, a celebrity news alert popped up on my phone: [Rising Star Roxy Spotted by Fans, Warmly Posing for Photos and Hugs.] In the video, her legs were impossibly long and slender, so pale they practically glowed. But just yesterday, when we were filming our fight scene, I’d seen her thighs, and they hadn’t looked like that. The comments section was flooded. [Roxy is the queen of self-discipline! Just a few days ago people were talking about her ‘thick thighs’ and now look at this comeback. Incredible!] [I heard she runs ten kilometers every morning to maintain her figure! How can a star like this not be famous?] [This is some serious shade on a certain senior actress, isn’t it? She’s been in the business for years and still hasn’t learned to manage her own body!] [Exactly. She’s so dark and chubby. If she’s not a flop, who is?] I didn’t need three guesses to know who the “certain senior actress” was. I glanced instinctively at my boyfriend, Zane, and my agent, Cole. They were both staring at their phones, grinning like idiots, their eyes filled with undisguised admiration and pride. I used to think they were just happy to see an artist from our agency succeed. Now I knew the truth. They were laughing at how stupid I was. The text floated by again: [See? The more Sienna worries about her thigh scarring, the more beautiful Roxy’s legs become.] I took a deep breath. I was starting to believe it. There was no other explanation for how Roxy’s legs could transform into flawlessness in a single day, right after mine had been sliced open. Rage boiled in my chest as I looked at them. One was my boyfriend. When he was a nobody, I was the one who spent a fortune—tens of millions, at least—on ads and investments to make him the star he was today. The other was my agent. When he was a newbie getting bullied in a corner, I was the one, a popular actress at the time, who took him under my wing. Because of me, he became a top-tier agent. And now, these two were working together to destroy me for Roxy. I was about to explode when a nurse came in to change my dressing. Zane immediately took the antiseptic and bandages from her. “I’ll do it,” he said gently. “You go on.” The nurse gave me a knowing, envious smile. “Your boyfriend is so handsome and thoughtful!” I forced a smile, my eyes secretly tracking Zane’s movements. With his back to me, he discreetly tossed the healing powder into the trash. The text floated up: [So cruel. This way, Sienna’s wound will scar, making her even more insecure about it.] I shot up and pushed him away. “Forget it. Just leave it.” Zane stared at me, bewildered. “Sienna, don’t you know that keeping your body scar-free is the ultimate respect you can show your audience?” “Besides,” he added, his voice hardening, “you’re my girlfriend. How can you be worthy of me if you have a scar?” He talked about not wanting me to scar, but all he wanted was for me to be insecure and obsessed. Years ago, when he, a famous actor, chose me, a washed-up star, over a bevy of beautiful actresses, his fans had ripped me to shreds for years. He never once defended me. Instead, he’d gaslight me. “Sienna, maybe they just think you’re not pretty enough.” “It’s okay. With modern medicine, if you want to get some cosmetic work done, I’ll support you.” Blinded by love, I’d foolishly agreed. To be “worthy” of him, I went through hell and back with cosmetic procedures, but my face only got worse. Now people called me a plastic surgery monster, full of toxins. I remember curling up under the covers, my body wracked with sobs, completely depressed over it. And on that very day, Roxy won the “Most Beautiful Lead Actress” award for her stunning looks. Snapping back to the present, I pushed him away with a humorless smile. “If you really cared about me, why haven’t you gone to settle the score with Roxy? Why haven’t you asked her why she used a real knife instead of a prop?” At the mention of Roxy, his expression soured. Cole stepped in, his tone deliberately calm. “Sienna, I know you don’t want to be just a pretty face. You care more about your skills, right?” “So I completely understand you focusing on your acting.” He paused, holding out a call sheet. “Here. I just booked you another stunt gig. Shoots at 1 a.m. The pay is good.” I glanced down at the throbbing wound on my thigh. I’d just been injured yesterday, and he wanted me to pull an all-nighter for a fight scene? I threw the call sheet on the floor. “I don’t feel well. I’m not doing it.” This time, even he couldn’t stay calm. His brows furrowed, his voice laced with impatience. “Sienna, accidents happen in acting. You used to be so tough. What’s wrong with you today?” “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked for you these past five years, never giving up, constantly hustling for roles?” I stared at him, a bitter taste in my mouth. “Oh, thank you so much,” I sneered. He’d been with me for five years. I took him on when I was at my peak. He seemed so grateful, always at my beck and call. When my career tanked, he stayed, working tirelessly to find me gigs. I always thought he was loyal. It was why I refused to go home and inherit the family business, despite my parents’ pleas. I pushed myself so hard, often staying on set until three or four in the morning, because I didn’t want to let him down. And what was the result? No matter how hard I worked, I was just a stepping stone for Roxy. The thought made me shake my head. “Since I’m already a flop, what’s the point of trying? I’ll still be a flop.” I looked up and smiled at him again. “You never said you were working so hard. Since it’s such a burden, why don’t you just stop?” Zane and Cole stared at me, their expressions a mixture of confusion and alarm. My words were strange, but my meaning was clear. I didn’t give them a chance to reply. I stood up and walked out. “I’m checking out of the hospital.” Zane snapped out of it and chased me down the hall. “What are you talking about? Your leg looks terrible! Get back in there!” Cole followed, frowning as he tried to grab my arm. “You need to heal up. You have a lot more fight scenes coming up.” “You’re throwing a tantrum over a little thing like this? You’ll never make a comeback at this rate!” “A comeback?” I stopped dead and spun around to face him. “The truth is, you’re terrified I will make a comeback!” My outburst drew curious glances from a few passersby. Zane panicked, fumbling to put on his mask and hissing, “Calm down! We’ll talk about this when we get back!” I shoved his hand away and shouted, “I am perfectly calm!” More people were stopping to watch now. Zane lost it. “Sienna, are you insane? If you don’t care about your own image, at least think about the agency’s reputation!” “You look like a crazy shrew right now! Are you trying to embarrass me?” His face was red beneath his mask. I reached out and ripped it off. “So, the great A-list actor only likes beautiful women?” The mask was off. The hallway erupted. “Isn’t that the movie star, Zane? And that woman… that’s his girlfriend, Sienna, right?” “Why are they fighting in a hospital? Is she pregnant?” “No way. Isn’t he famous for doting on that ugly girlfriend of his? I thought they were true love!” Zane treasured his hard-won fame above all else. He hastily pulled his mask back on, muttering, “You’ve got the wrong person,” and fled. The onlookers froze, their phones still half-raised. I smiled sweetly at them. “Yes, that was Zane.” Cole grabbed my arm, dragging me aside. “If you keep this up, no one will ever hire you again!” “Once this scandal hits the news, your career in this industry is over!” I tilted my head, a laugh bubbling up. “Wouldn’t that be perfect? I was just thinking of retiring.” I had a family empire waiting for me to inherit. I didn’t need to grovel in this toxic industry. While he was still stunned, I turned and walked away. I sent a quick text to my mom, then systematically left every group chat for stunt work. Next stop: the agency, to terminate my contract. I had no endorsement deals, no TV appearances, and no active film roles. Plus, my parents were the biggest investors in the agency. Leaving wouldn’t be hard. That was the real reason the agency never fired me, even after my career had been in a slump for so long. I had asked them to keep my family background a secret, afraid people would use it against me, and even told them not to give me special treatment or resources. The moment I stepped into the office, I ran into Roxy. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes instantly welling up. “Sienna… I didn’t know the knife would… I really didn’t know…” I watched her performance, my face a blank mask. She cried beautifully, inching closer. “Sienna, please don’t be mad at me. It’s all my fault, all my fault…” Her eyes darted to my thigh. “That wound… it’s going to scar! I’ll find you a doctor, I know a really good one…” I sidestepped her. “You stab me, then you find me a doctor. You’re a real saint.” My words ignited the office. A colleague snapped, “Roxy, how is this your fault? It’s her own damn fault for not dodging a real knife. She’s probably just desperate for attention.” “Yeah! Roxy, you’re always getting her roles. She shouldn’t complain about one little stab, or even ten!” “If you ask me, she’s just ugly and high-maintenance! And now she has the nerve to be sarcastic with you!” I scanned the room, a cold smirk on my face. “So, stabbing me was justified, is that it?” Roxy’s tears fell faster. “Sienna, I didn’t mean it like that…” she whimpered. The more helpless she acted, the louder the murmurs grew. “Sienna, that’s going too far. Roxy apologized, what more do you want?” “You think you’re so great because your boyfriend’s a movie star? Get over yourself!” “Look at you. How can you even compare yourself to Roxy? One of her fingers is worth more than your entire career!” “The only reason someone who looks like you is still in this business is because Roxy helps you out. Otherwise, you would’ve been kicked to the curb ages ago!” I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the inferno inside me. They were right. Roxy was better than me now. But everything she had—Zane and Cole had stolen it from me and given it to her. She’d started as a nobody, an extra everyone looked down on. I felt sorry for her and asked Cole to give her a hand. And with that one hand, she shot to stardom. After she got famous, she even got her hooks into my boyfriend. I don’t know when the three of them started plotting against me. I was done wasting my breath on her. I reached out to push past her. The instant my hand touched her, she stumbled backward dramatically, collapsing to the floor. She clutched her knee, her face a mask of agony. “Roxy!” Zane and Cole burst out of the elevator and slammed into me, sending me sprawling. My wound tore open again. Blood gushed out, the pain so intense it brought a cold sweat to my brow. Before I could process what happened, Zane was pointing at me, roaring, “Sienna! How can you be so petty?!” Roxy clutched her back, whimpering as she leaned against him. “I have a promotional event tonight… but after Sienna pushed me, I’m so dizzy… I don’t think I can go… What if this affects the company?” A colleague immediately rounded on me. “That event has several major directors attending! If Roxy can’t go, what will they think of us? You bitch, you’re trying to sabotage everyone!” I suddenly noticed that Roxy was wearing shorts, and her thighs looked thicker than they had in the video this morning, the fabric cutting into her flesh. A text floated by: [Sienna stopped caring about her scar, so Roxy’s legs are back to their original state!] I looked down at my own leg. It was a bloody mess, but the skin around the wound was smooth and pale. Seeing me stare silently at my leg, someone stepped forward and stomped right on my injury. The pain was so blinding I nearly blacked out. The others backed away in disgust. “Now there’s blood all over the floor. So unlucky.” Zane looked down at me, his eyes filled with loathing. “Sienna, if you keep this up, don’t blame me for forgetting our history and telling the boss to blacklist you!” Cole’s voice was like ice. “Without me, a top-tier agent, you’ll never work in this town again!” Suddenly, a furious voice boomed from the entrance. “Insolence! Who dares cause trouble in my company!” Behind the CEO stood my mother, her face a mask of cold fury. The CEO pushed through the crowd of gossiping employees and strode towards me, his brow furrowed. He glanced at my bleeding leg, then at Roxy, and his voice was heavy. “What happened here?” Roxy immediately clutched her back, her voice frail. “Sir, I was just trying to advise Sienna to take better care of her image, but she suddenly lost her temper and pushed me…” The colleagues chimed in. “That’s right, sir! Sienna started it! Roxy was just trying to help!” “Yeah, Roxy is so kind, she didn’t deserve that!” My mother gasped and rushed over. The sight of my leg, drenched in blood, made her scream. “Someone, call an ambulance! Now!” But Zane just scoffed, stopping someone who was reaching for their phone. He crossed his arms, sneering at me. “Stop the act. If you had an ounce of this acting talent on screen, you wouldn’t be a flop.” “Look at Roxy. She debuted after you and already has several leading roles. And you? You’re still just a stunt double. Isn’t that pathetic?” The pain was making my head spin, but I gritted my teeth and glared at him. “This is acting? Are you blind, or am I?” “Zane, have you forgotten how you became an A-list actor in the first place? How dare you lecture me!” “You!” Zane pointed a trembling finger at me. “Sienna! If you hadn’t blackmailed me with the past, do you think I would have ever looked twice at a dark, ugly woman like you?” “I know what you did! You slept with Director Evans to get me that role, to make me an actor! I only stayed with you out of pity, because I didn’t want to expose you!” “But you’re the one who did it! I never forced you!” A wave of gasps and whispers filled the room. “I knew it! That’s how she got famous so fast back in the day! She slept her way to the top!” …It wasn’t enough to destroy me. He had to slander me, too?

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