Category: English

1 My best friend, Ben, finally stopped laughing long enough to send me the picture of the man my wife was leaving me for. The reason for his half-hour-long laughing fit wasn’t just the affair itself. It was because her new man wasn’t some decorated four-star general, nor was he a billionaire CEO with a summer home in the Hamptons. He was a motor pool driver, nearly forty, who was my inferior in every conceivable way—education, background, and appearance. At first, I thought it had to be a sick April Fool’s joke. But when I confronted Eleanor with the photo, she calmly produced a set of divorce papers. “I failed you in the first half of my life, Ethan,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “I can’t fail Liam in the second.” Her next words were a clean, brutal slice: “You can have the assets. I’m choosing him.” My own expression remained flat. I pulled out my phone, opened the calculator app, and did a quick tally of our properties, stock portfolio, and luxury cars. Then, I signed the papers with a steady hand. “I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” … Exactly twenty-eight minutes had passed from the moment Eleanor confessed her affair to the moment I handed her the signed divorce agreement. According to our terms, the military base housing assigned to us and my related base privileges would remain under my control. She would pay me a one-time settlement of three million dollars in compensation and child support. From that day forward, our son and I would have no further contact with her. When I handed her the papers, Eleanor was in the middle of a video conference, a strategic briefing of some kind. The two silver stars on each of her shoulders gleamed under the lamplight as she glanced up, her eyes catching the words “Divorce Agreement.” She held up a hand, pausing the meeting. “One moment,” she told the screen, before turning her gaze to me. She gave a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment, and I left her study. To speed things along, I packed all of her personal belongings myself. Five large suitcases in total. I was meticulous, not wanting to miss a thing. I even cleared out the storage room, carefully packing away the medals and commendations from her years at West Point. The last thing I saw was the wedding photo hanging on the wall. In it, Eleanor stood tall and proud in her dress uniform, while I, in a crisp white suit, held her tightly in a sun-dappled birch forest. Back then, her arms were always wrapped around me, her voice a warm whisper in my ear. “I’ll love you forever, Ethan.” “Marrying you was the luckiest day of my life.” We met at West Point. She was a freshly commissioned officer, and I, despite having my own share of admirers, fell for her instantly. She was independent, honorable, and beautiful—everything I wasn’t, everything I admired. We married right after graduation, and I watched as she climbed the ranks, from a junior officer all the way to Major General. To support her meteoric rise, I put my own ambitions on hold, becoming the perfect military spouse. I managed our home, our life, and took care of her with unwavering devotion. As her rank increased, so did the frequency of her field exercises and deployments. I filled my days with grocery runs and gym sessions, maintaining my physique while she was away. But she never neglected us. No matter how exhausted she was, she’d come home and help our son with his homework, take walks with me, and use her influence to smooth over the petty politics of base housing. To everyone else, we were the model military couple. I don’t know when it started, but her “weekend exercises” began to stretch, sometimes bleeding into entire weeks where she was completely off the grid. Ben had even joked about it. “Man, you better keep an eye on her. Things can change.” I’d brushed it off, but a seed of doubt had been planted. I’d dropped off documents for her at the base a few times. Everything seemed normal. Her staff officers were always buried in work, and that man—Liam Carter—was always there in the background, driving his truck between departments, delivering supplies, occasionally lending a hand. He was a man approaching forty, not handsome by any means. He wore his uniform well, his hair cut in a sharp military buzz, and he spoke with a friendly, Midwestern sort of charm. He’d even poured me a cup of tea once, polite and unassuming. Over the years, I had braced myself for this possibility. I’d pictured her leaving me for a general’s son, a handsome young captain, or even a dashing war correspondent. The one person I never considered was the truck driver from the motor pool. I’d heard he had been married once before, to another soldier. This was his first job after the divorce, and he was known for his work ethic. He volunteered for extra shifts, was friendly to everyone, and his colleagues liked him. Some of them even asked him to pick up groceries for them on his runs. I remember telling Eleanor about it once, saying he seemed like a hardworking guy and that she should look out for him. Her response was always cool, detached. “The military doesn’t run on favors, Ethan. I’ve already told my staff to stop asking him for personal errands.” At the time, I thought she was just being a stern, by-the-book General. Looking back, I realize she was probably just upset that Liam had to run errands for others after a long day of work. The reason she chose today to confess was simple. I had made her a bowl of warm soup, a ritual for whenever she returned late from an exercise. She stared at the bowl, her brow furrowed slightly, then gently pushed it away. After a long silence, she looked up at me, her eyes clouded with weariness, and asked if we could get a divorce. She admitted it had been going on for three months. She’d been using the breaks between her field exercises to meet him. My heart felt like it had been pierced by a thousand tiny needles, but I forced myself to maintain my composure. I asked who it was. When she said the name “Liam Carter,” I was sure I was hearing things. A wave of numbness washed over me, a strange, aching paralysis that spread through my limbs. 2 By the time Eleanor finished her meeting and came out of the study, I had finished my workout, ironed my uniform for the next day, and was sitting on the balcony, reading a book. As if nothing had happened. She went to the bedroom to change and, out of habit, called out from the walk-in closet when she found it empty. “Ethan, where are my Class A’s?” I didn’t turn around. “Packed. Wear yesterday’s uniform if you don’t mind. You’ll be throwing it out soon enough anyway.” A long, heavy silence was her only reply. When she emerged, she finally saw the five suitcases stacked neatly by the front door. She came and sat beside me, her finger tapping the divorce agreement on the table. “The settlement… I’ll transfer two million now. The rest will be in installments—” I cut her off. “No. I want it all at once.” I paused, then added, “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to have any lingering ties to me.” A flicker of confusion crossed her face. “He’s my son too, Ethan. I have a right to be part of his life.” “I know I’m in the wrong,” she continued, her voice gaining a defensive edge. “I’m willing to compensate you, but don’t you dare use our son as a bargaining chip.” I set down my book and looked her straight in the eye. “You’re the one who had the affair. The settlement and child support are what I’m owed. Considering your income, keeping the house is hardly greedy of me. As for our son, I’m the one who’s been there for him his entire life. He’s a sensitive boy who needs attention. How much of yourself can you honestly give him while you’re in the throes of a new romance? Being a parent is about more than just money. It takes time and patience.” She was speechless, cornered by the truth. Finally, she managed, “Regardless, I won’t let three million dollars sever my relationship with my son.” I picked up the agreement. “The three million is for the settlement and his upbringing. If you want to provide anything extra, you can transfer it directly to his trust fund. I’ll have a separate account set up for him.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “I never knew you were so obsessed with money, Ethan. It’s all you talk about.” “And what about love?” I shot back, my voice dangerously quiet. “What good did that do me?” She had nothing left to say. Her face was a grim mask as she snatched a pen and signed the papers. She then informed me we had an appointment at the base’s Legal Assistance Office tomorrow to file the official application. With that, she called for her aide to come collect her things. I finished arranging a vase of flowers and went to bed. When I woke the next morning, she was already gone. Our son, Leo, came running out of his room and jumped into my arms, chattering excitedly about a dream he’d had about visiting the Air and Space Museum. As I listened, I gently tested the waters. “Mommy has a really important training exercise coming up. She might be away for a little while.” Usually, this news would be met with tears and protests. But this time, he just grabbed his tablet to video call her. “Mommy, when are you coming home?” he asked. “I’m going to be busy for a while, sweetie,” her voice came through the speaker. He just nodded, his little lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s okay. As long as I have Dad, it’s enough.” My composure shattered. My throat closed up, and I couldn’t speak. Making an excuse about breakfast, I fled to the kitchen, fighting back tears. Agreeing to the divorce was painful, but the guilt of not being able to give my son a complete family was what truly gutted me. Even though I knew I wasn’t the one who broke it. After dropping Leo off at school, I met Eleanor at the legal office. We filed the paperwork. Thirty days. In thirty days, we’d have the final decree, and it would all be over. 3 I had just gotten back to the house when a message popped up from a young clerk in Eleanor’s unit named Sam. He was a cheerful, outgoing kid, the kind everyone liked. He asked if I was busy. When I said I wasn’t, he launched right in. Are you and the General getting a divorce? I didn’t deny it. Is it because of Liam Carter? I didn’t answer. I figured Eleanor must have told people. Seeing my silence, Sam sent a string of crying emojis. Dude, I knew it! It’s because of that guy! No wonder you haven’t been bringing us your famous brownies lately! I miss them so much! Back when Eleanor and I were happy, I used to bake for her unit almost weekly as a thank you for their hard work. Some of the younger soldiers would joke they’d never leave the army just so they could keep eating my pastries. It’s okay, I typed back. I’m thinking of opening a flower shop. When I do, you can come by and I’ll give you a free bouquet. Sam cheered up instantly, demanding the address. I told him I’d send it later. He was fine with that, but then the complaints started again. You have no idea what a jerk Liam has become. Right after you stopped coming around, he got promoted from driver to head of the motor pool. His whole attitude changed. He used to smile at everyone. Now he just nitpicks and finds fault with everything. He’s not even trying to hide how smug he is. And get this—he bought the same brand of watch and jacket as you. It’s so obvious. What does the General even see in him? He finished by saying if he didn’t love the uniform so much, he’d request a transfer just to get away from the guy. I was at my front door by then. I sent him a few comforting words, and he finally, reluctantly, ended the conversation. At this point, I found I didn’t have the energy to dissect Liam’s motives anymore. It was a stark contrast to the moment Eleanor confessed, when a frantic, desperate need to understand his appeal had consumed me. I pushed open the door and was surprised to see Eleanor’s boots in the entryway. She was on the floor with Leo, helping him build a complex model airplane. “Dad!” Leo shouted, his face lighting up. “Come on, let’s race and see who can finish their side first!” In the past, Eleanor would have scooped him up, spun him around until he giggled, and then pulled me into a hug. The house would have been filled with laughter. Now, she just cleared her throat and patted Leo’s head. “Daddy’s had a long day, sweetie. He’s tired. Maybe next time, okay?” “Okay,” Leo mumbled. “Mommy, when will you be done with your exercises?” Eleanor paused, then said softly, “As soon as I can,” before shooing him off to get ready for bed. After a long day working on plans for the flower shop, I had no energy to play games with her. “Lock up on your way out,” I said, heading for my room. “I promised Leo I’d stay and sleep here tonight,” she said quietly. I didn’t argue. I had just closed my bedroom door when I heard her phone ring in the living room. Her voice was low as she answered, repeating a few reassurances. Then, her tone sharpened with barely concealed irritation. “I told you, I’m just staying with Leo! What are you so worried about? We’ve already signed the agreement! How many times do I have to explain that we’re sleeping in separate rooms?” A moment later, I heard the sharp click of the call ending. Then, a soft knock on my door. “Ethan,” she said from the other side. “Something urgent came up at the base. I have to go back. I’ll… I’ll try to come see Leo again tomorrow.” I didn’t open the door. “Okay,” I said, just loud enough for her to hear. She wasn’t even out of the driveway when my phone buzzed with a notification: an eighty-thousand-dollar deposit into Leo’s trust fund. The memo simply read: Buy Leo some new clothes. I didn’t reply. I turned back to my laptop, pulling up the business plan for the shop. But just as I did, a new message notification appeared on my screen. It was from a number I didn’t recognize. 4 There were no words. Just a single, smiling emoji. I couldn’t even remember adding this person. I scrolled through the chat history and saw that our only previous interaction was two years ago, when they’d added me as a contact. As I was trying to place them, another message came through. 【You must be feeling pretty smug, huh?】 It hit me like a physical blow. This had to be Liam Carter. But Liam had only been transferred to this base six months ago. How could he have had my number for two years? Had this account been silently watching me, observing my life, for nearly two years? A cold dread washed over me. I replied with a single question mark. The response was immediate, typed with furious speed. 【I don’t care what tricks you’re using to keep her. I can make her come back to me in a second.】 It was him. There was no doubt. So Eleanor had known him two years ago? Maybe even longer. Then, he sent a picture. I clicked on it, and my world tilted on its axis. It was Eleanor, asleep in a bed that wasn’t ours, a man’s arm draped possessively over her waist. In the bottom right corner of the photo was a date stamp: May 20, 2023. I stared at the image, my stomach churning. A wave of bitter nausea rose in my throat, and I lurched toward the trash can, dry heaving. May 20, 2023. That was the day my mother was in the hospital for a biopsy. Eleanor had been on a grueling field exercise for the entire month. She had compressed her schedule, pushed her unit to the limit, just so she could get back in time to be with me. She’d spent hours on the phone, her voice a soothing balm against my anxiety, telling me not to be scared. I couldn’t sleep, so she stayed on a voice call with me all night, a constant presence in the darkness. She arrived back at dawn on the 20th, exhausted but resolute, and sat with me outside the operating room, holding my hand. And on that same day, in the midst of all that, she had found time to be with him. How could she have come home and looked me in the eye? When I didn’t respond, Liam grew bolder. He sent a flurry of photos, each one meticulously dated. Our wedding anniversary. Leo’s birthday. Each time, she had been with him first, before rushing back to play the part of the loving wife and mother. The disgust was so profound it eclipsed the pain. I had thought this was a recent thing, that she had simply grown tired of our quiet, stable life in the last few months, a mid-life crisis pushing her toward a new “true love.” But it wasn’t new. It was rotten to the core, and had been for years. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. Returning to my desk, I saved every single photo, creating a file for the evidence. I knew why he was sending them now. He was getting impatient. The full three-million-dollar settlement hadn’t been paid yet. Over the past two weeks, Eleanor had transferred 1.2 million, but the remaining 1.8 was, in her words, “going to take some time.” The house was already in my name, a detail clearly stipulated in our agreement. There was no dispute there. If I were to blow this up now, it would jeopardize her career, and an enraged Eleanor would be far less likely to pay me the rest. I could lose everything. Leo could lose his father. Eleanor had probably expected me to break down, to beg, to fight. But my pride, my need for dignity, wouldn’t allow me to cause a scene at her command. Liam, however, hadn’t counted on my quiet compliance. My refusal to engage, to even confront her, had thrown him off. He knew that in this game, the first one to lose their cool, loses. But something didn’t add up. If Liam had been able to stay hidden in the shadows for so long, playing the part of the harmless, hardworking driver, why the sudden desperation? In just a few more weeks, our divorce would be final. Why would he risk everything now, just because she came home to spend one night with her son? I checked the time. It wasn’t too late. I called Sam. He was out having a late dinner with some colleagues, and he told me, with a conspiratorial whisper, that they were all gossiping about Eleanor and Liam. By pooling their information, they’d pieced together a few new details. Apparently, at a joint-forces mixer last week, Eleanor had had too much to drink and was personally escorted home by a handsome Colonel from a neighboring unit. That same Colonel had since asked her out a few times. Combined with the fact that I hadn’t been around for weeks, the rumor mill was churning: Major General Vance was about to be single again. Suddenly, a host of ambitious young officers were making their interest known. And that’s when Liam Carter started to lose his nerve. “Ethan, you’re such a good guy, I can’t stand keeping this from you,” Sam said, his voice earnest. “Don’t be sad. I mean, yeah, the General is amazing, but she’s also a cheater. You’ll find someone so much better! No, wait, screw women! You’re going to have an amazing career, your flower shop is going to be a huge success, and then you’ll find someone better, haha.” His clumsy attempt to cheer me up actually worked. A small smile touched my lips. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll do my best.”

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I found out my brother is the “villainous white moonlight” in a romance novel—the manipulative ex-boyfriend who tries to ruin the female lead’s life—while he was lying in the bathtub, about to hurt himself. I kicked the bathroom door open. “Go downstairs and buy me a pack of spicy Takis, a bag of Lay’s, and a Gatorade.” My brother froze. “But…” “I’m counting to three!” My brother shot up from the water like a rocket. “Sis, do you want the Fuego or the Blue Heat?” Just then, a row of bullet comments floated across my vision. [LMAO, isn’t the villain supposed to be ruthless, paranoid, and depressed? Why is he such a sis-con?] [This is the terrifying power of sibling suppression!] [Hahaha, this villain actually knows the difference between Takis flavors. He must buy them often!] 1 The bathroom door wobbled on its hinges from my kick. My brother frantically hid a fruit knife behind his back. I gave him a deadpan look, pulled a fifty out of my pocket, and gritted my teeth. “Five bucks for gas, not a cent more.” “Can’t we just DoorDash it?” My brother pouted, looking aggrieved. “Delivery is unhealthy!” He paused, clearly confused by my logic, but grabbed a towel off the rack and headed out, muttering, “Like Takis are any healthier.” After he left, I glanced at the fruit knife hidden by the tub. It was clean. I thought back to the floating text I saw earlier while binge-watching TV on the couch. [Sister is still watching TV! Go control your brother, he’s secretly plotting again!] [But the sister probably doesn’t know yet. Her brother is the villainous white moonlight in a ‘chasing husband’ novel. He blackens completely because he can’t stand the female lead using the male lead as his substitute!] [But the villain’s sister never seemed to like her ungrateful brother anyway…] [Forget it, sis, just run. Your villain brother is going to self-destruct soon, and he’ll even get you killed!] Me: “??” Why did this sound exactly like the trashy novel plots I’ve been reading? But wait. My brother is going to self-destruct soon? And I’m going to die too?? Hell no! The fortune teller said I’m destined for great wealth. I work out every day, put collagen in my coffee, and even say a little prayer before eating to bless the souls of the… rice grains I consume! How could I end up dying young? Absolutely not! My brother came back with the Takis, chips, and yogurt drink. He placed them by my hand. “Sis, they didn’t have Gatorade, so I got you a yogurt drink.” Then he started tip-toeing back toward the bathroom. “Cook dinner,” I said, munching on a chip without looking up. “I want sweet and sour pork ribs and crispy beef.” My brother froze, then resignedly turned toward the kitchen. 2 Half an hour later, the table was filled with my favorite dishes. My brother looked at me cautiously. “Dinner’s ready.” “Coming.” I nodded, putting down my snacks. My brother seemed anxious. He ate two bites and put down his chopsticks. He sat opposite me, lips pressed together, watching me gnaw on a rib while eyeing the crispy beef. Rule of the house: Kids don’t leave the table until the elders are done. I ate slowly. My brain was spinning, trying to figure out how to stop him from slitting his wrists and framing the male and female leads. The bullet comments were confused by my behavior. [Sister has a great appetite today. She ate five dishes by herself!] [Yeah, didn’t she used to say her brother’s cooking sucks? Why is she eating so much?] [Is it just me, or is the sister acting weird…] I frowned and blurted out, “Who said my brother’s cooking sucks? It’s delicious!” As soon as I said it, a burning gaze fixed on me. When I looked up, he immediately looked away. My brother pushed a dish closer to me, his voice a little hoarse. “As long as you like it.” I stared at his evasive eyes and red ears, my eyes stinging. Busy with work, I hadn’t properly looked at this brother of mine—who I’ve relied on since we were kids—in a long time. 3 I blinked. I shoved a few more mouthfuls of rice in. After eating, my brother skillfully started washing dishes. Once everything was cleaned up, he headed for the bathroom again. And locked the door. I walked over and knocked. “Bro, go walk Buster. It’s dark out and I’m scared to be alone. Chop chop.” Silence from inside. I turned to the balcony and nudged the sleeping Samoyed with my foot. He picked Buster up from a dumpster when he was twelve. Afraid I’d be mad, he didn’t dare bring him home, feeding him with his own lunch money. From a tiny pup, he grew into this big, goofy lug. Buster, annoyed at the forced reboot, barked at me twice. The bathroom door opened. My brother looked emotionless, just looking for the leash. “Buster, come!” The bullet comments exploded. [This isn’t a villain, this is the sister’s loyal puppy!] [Framing the male lead can wait. If Sister wants ribs, she gets ribs. Walking Buster is more important than being evil…] [But why do I feel like the sister is trying to stop the villain from framing the male lead?] [+1. In the book, the suicide happens today. Does this mean if today passes, the male lead won’t be framed?] True or false, I had to try! 4 We went out. My brother walked Buster, picking up his poop. I followed behind. Sipping fresh-squeezed orange juice, eyeing the kebab stand… By the time I bought a kebab, the dog was gone, and so was my brother. My heart sank. An image of my brother holding up a bloody wrist, accusing the female lead, flashed in my mind. Just as I was about to call him… “Sis.” Under a broken streetlamp in the park stood a boy and a dog. My brother waved his phone. “Been waiting for ages. Let’s go home.” My heart felt wrapped in warmth, but I put on a grumpy face. “What’s the rush? Can’t you walk slower?” “Okay.” My brother shortened the leash, his tone careful. “Sorry, Sis. Buster ran too fast.” He slowed down. His phone flashlight was pointed entirely at me, silently lighting my path. Walking through the dark patch, I could feel his arm stiffen. He seemed afraid of me. Under the warm yellow streetlights… My brother held the dog in one hand, and my half-drunk juice and unfinished kebab in the other. I walked calmly, lightly tugging his sleeve. Two hours later. I dragged my brother around the park loop after loop until Buster couldn’t walk anymore and played dead on the pavement… Only then did I stop. As soon as we got home, I pointed at Buster. “Give him a bath. He stinks.”

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One week before finals, my entire class of thirty students got transmigration-trucked into the body of a “True Heiress.” The “False Heiress” patted our cheek with zero respect, her voice dripping with malice. “You dead-eyed hillbilly. If you want to stay here, you’d better sleep with one eye open.” “Otherwise, I’m going to make your life a living hell.” She didn’t know that we had exactly 15 pairs of eyes to do just that. 1 After eating some sketchy, undercooked meatloaf in the cafeteria, all thirty of us woke up inside the plot of a “True vs. False Heiress” novel. We were sharing one single body. A massive data dump of the plot flooded all of our brains simultaneously. The body we were occupying belonged to Holly Yates. She was the True Heiress who had been swapped at birth by a nanny. For eighteen years, the nanny treated Holly like trash. When she finally found out the truth and ran to the Lynn family to reclaim her identity, nobody gave a damn. Her dad didn’t care, and her mom was cold. At home, she was gaslighted by the False Heiress, Lyla Lynn. At school, she was bullied relentlessly. Holly finally snapped, but her one attempt at fighting back was seen by Mrs. Lynn. Mrs. Lynn decided Holly was bullying Lyla. To “fix” her, they sent Holly to The Ranch—a brutal behavioral correction facility. In the end, Holly fell into a deep depression and jumped off a building. After processing the plot, we all let out a collective mental scream. Heartthrob: [Why do other people get isekai’d into War Gods or Dragon Lords? Why are we stuck in a tragedy? Who did I offend?!] Me: [This is definitely a capitalist conspiracy.] Jock: [AHHH! This novel was written by an NPC, I swear.] Bella (Queen Bee): [How do we get back? I have finals next week!] Nerd: [I need to go home!] Prez: [Everyone chill! Chill! Based on my years of reading web novels, we’re probably here because the True Heiress had too much grievance in her past life. If we help her reclaim everything that belongs to her, we can probably go home.] While we were debating furiously in the headspace, Lyla patted our cheek, dropped her villain lines, and then immediately pivoted. She looked up at Mrs. Lynn, who was standing on the spiral staircase, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. “Mom, just give my room to my sister.” “Sister said I’m a rat and I don’t deserve a big, bright room. I’ll go live in the attic storage closet.” Mrs. Lynn frowned. “Holly, didn’t I just tell you? Being swapped was Nanny Zhang’s fault alone. Lyla is a victim too.” “She’s lived with us for years. We see her as our own child. Lyla has claustrophobia, how could she live in the attic? Can you stop being so selfish?” Is this woman for real? Inside Holly’s body, we couldn’t take it anymore. Thirty of us started fighting for control of the limbs. The True Heiress’s body shuddered, then her face twitched, eyes rolled in different directions, and she started lurching toward them like a zombie from The Walking Dead. Me: [Left foot first! Who is controlling the right foot?!] Prez: [Who is grabbing the mouth? Priority one is explaining to Mrs. Lynn that we didn’t say that stuff!] Jock: [Can’t hold it back! I wanna roast them! Give me the mouth!] Heartthrob: [Why are the eyes blinking like a strobe light? I have no control!] … Mrs. Lynn looked at us in horror and instinctively pulled Lyla behind her. “Holly, what are you doing?” “Are you having a seizure?” Lyla’s eyes were wet with fake tears. “Is Sister pretending to be ugly on purpose to get Mom’s attention?” Seeing us lurch closer, Mrs. Lynn pushed us away with a look of disgust. Her diamond ring snagged on our collar. It was like she had touched something filthy; she yanked her hand back. The collar ripped, exposing a patch of jagged, shocking scars on our collarbone. Mrs. Lynn froze when she saw the scars. Lyla quickly stepped in front of her, blocking the view. I yelled, “Opportunity!” and tried to kick Lyla with the left foot. But I didn’t expect the Nerd controlling the right foot to be on the exact same wavelength. She swung the right foot to kick left at the same time. Holly’s legs crossed in mid-air, both feet left the ground, and the body launched itself like a “stubborn Magikarp,” flopping aggressively toward Lyla. We slammed onto the floor, smacked our head on the banister, and blacked out. 2 While we were unconscious, Prez called a meeting. Prez: [Listen up, squad. We exist as souls inside Holly. That means we all have admin rights to this body.] Prez: [But if we all drive at once, we crash like we just did.] Prez: [Forget going home—we’ll end up in a psych ward.] Prez: [We don’t know the exit condition yet, but we definitely can’t follow the original bad ending.] Prez: [So, I propose a schedule. Only one person drives the body at a time.] We all agreed. When we opened our eyes again, Bella was in the driver’s seat. We had been changed into clean clothes. The butler knocked, telling us to come down for dinner. Before we even got to the dining room, we heard Lyla sobbing. “Mom, does Sister hate me?” “Is that why she acted crazy in front of me…” “Mom, please don’t kick me out. I don’t have to be the young miss. I can be Sister’s maid. I’ll do laundry, sweep the floors… just treat me like a servant.” “Boohoo, please don’t send me away.” Mr. Lynn was wiping Lyla’s tears with heartbreak in his eyes. “Silly child, how could we kick you out? Don’t overthink it.” “Holly is just too immature. I’ll have a word with her when she gets here.” Nerd: [Omg, I’m gonna puke.] Me: [We need a plan. If the plot follows the book, we’re going to The Ranch.] Bella: [Relax. Watch me clutch this. Only a Queen Bee knows how to handle a Pick-Me Girl.] Bella put on a terrified, timid expression and walked toward the table. Mrs. Lynn nudged Mr. Lynn to shut him up. He grunted coldly. Mrs. Lynn stood up and ladled some soup for Bella. “Holly, sit. You scared us earlier. How do you feel? Do you want to go to the hospital for a checkup?” Bella wrapped her arms around herself, shivering violently, and frantically apologized. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry. I was having a somatic symptom episode.” Mrs. Lynn paused, ladle in mid-air. “Somatic symptom?” “I… I have depression. When I get triggered, my body reacts physically…” “How did you get that kind of illness?” Bella whispered, “When I was little, if Nanny Zhang thought I ate too much, she’d hit me with a hot fireplace poker. Sometimes it left a welt, sometimes it took a strip of flesh… The doctor said it’s PTSD from childhood trauma…” Mrs. Lynn’s eyes turned red. Lyla immediately interrupted. “Sister, the past is the past. Why bring that up now? You know Mom has a weak heart. You’re making her sad. She won’t be able to sleep tonight.” Bella looked horrified and bowed her head repeatedly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” Mrs. Lynn looked conflicted but stopped her. “It’s okay, Holly. You don’t need to apologize. Let’s eat.” Bella said “Okay,” took the soup, and turned to walk away. Mrs. Lynn asked where she was going. Bella pointed to the front door, voice trembling. “I… I’ll go squat by the entrance to eat.” “Silly child, why would you squat by the door? Sit and eat with us.” Mrs. Lynn grabbed Bella’s hand to pull her to the chair. Bella looked terrified. “Am I really allowed at the table? Nanny Zhang said I was a little animal, only fit to squat by the door and eat with the dogs.” Mrs. Lynn froze. Then she couldn’t hold it back anymore and hugged Bella, sobbing. Me: [Bella, you are a legend. Three sentences and the billionaire’s wife is bawling.] Bella: [EZ. Light work. The original Holly was too tough. She never talked about the abuse and hid her scars.] Bella: [If you don’t show it, nobody hurts for you. It’s not weakness; it’s strategy.] Inside the mind palace, we all gave Bella a thumbs up. 3 Lyla stared at us with pure venom. But she couldn’t do a thing. Mr. Lynn coughed. “Alright, alright. The past is gone. Holly, we know you suffered, and we will make it up to you.” Mrs. Lynn wiped her tears and sat Bella next to her. “Right, let’s not talk about sad things. Eat.” “Okay.” Bella nodded obediently. Halfway through the meal, Mr. Lynn brought up school. “Holly, we transferred your records. Tomorrow, you’ll start at Crestwood Academy with Lyla.” “You two can look out for each other.” Lyla’s eyes lit up. She smiled at us. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll take good care of Sister.” Nerd: [That smile is sus.] Of course it was. In the novel, this was the first reason the parents started hating Holly. Crestwood is an elite prep school. Top acceptance rate in the country. You either have money or brains to get in. All new students take a placement test. Classes are assigned by score. Money can’t buy you into Class A. Lyla got into Class A on her own merits, which made Mrs. Lynn super proud in her social circle. But Holly had zero formal education for eighteen years. Her grades were trash. She scored a total of 150 points. Across all subjects. Lyla forced her to take an IQ test, and the hospital diagnosed Holly as borderline intellectually disabled. Mr. Lynn thought Holly was an embarrassment, canceled her welcome party, and told everyone she was just an adopted daughter. Holly got dumped into Class F—the zoo for rich kids who didn’t study. She was bullied instantly. But things were different now. We have thirty brains. Thirty brains currently peaked for finals season. Maximum cognitive capacity. On the day of the exam, Prez organized us like a military operation. We breezed through the first three subjects. Then came Math. We all froze. Why is a high school testing AP Calculus and Advanced Functions?! Prez: [I just checked the plot again. Crestwood is insane. They teach college math early.] Heartthrob: [Does anyone here know Multivariable Calculus?] English Rep: [Nope.] Bella: [Crying_emoji.jpg. Nope.] Jock: [Is this fate? Are we doomed? Sobbing_emoji.] I raised my hand weakly. [Maybe let me try.] Jock: [Get real. You got a negative 5 on the last math mock exam. Did you forget?] Bella: [Negative five? How?] Me: [I fell asleep and drooled on the scan-tron sheet. They deducted 5 points for ruining the paper.] Bella: [Bruh.] 4 Me: [But… I can hear what the person in front of me is writing.] Prez: [Bruh.] Nerd: [Bruh.] English Rep: [Bruh.] … Even though nobody really trusted my “skill,” time was ticking. They decided to throw a Hail Mary and gave me the wheel. As soon as I took control, our senses sharpened. I focused on the sound of the pen in front of me. A is three strokes, C is one stroke, B and D are two, but D is written faster. Two hours later, I finished the test. The next day, results were posted. We ranked 36th. We were placed in the Star Class. Nerd: [Holy crap. The Star Class is the best class in the novel. Elites only.] Me: [Oops. I cheated too hard.] Prez: [So what did you actually score on Math?] Me: [It was all multiple choice. I purposely changed a few answers. I got a 140.] Heartthrob: [Your hearing is god-tier. Why do you usually score so low?] Me: [I feel like eavesdropping is cheating. If my rank goes up, I push someone else down. So I usually point-shave. I aim to score just a few points higher than Jock, so I’m second to last. Hehe.] Jock: [Thanks a lot.] I put the report card in my bag. As soon as I walked in the door, Lyla pounced. “Sister! Scores are out! What did you get? Which class?” I sighed. “Not great.” Mrs. Lynn walked over and patted my head. “It’s okay. Crestwood is hard. It’s normal to struggle at first.” Lyla bit her lip, a trace of malice in her eyes. “I heard Sister hangs out with delinquents at school. It’s normal for her grades to be bad.” “Sister should focus on school.” Mr. Lynn frowned. “Holly, education is important.” I looked up and locked eyes with Lyla. “Who did you hear that from?” “People.” “Which people?” I pressed. Lyla stuttered. Mrs. Lynn’s expression shifted. She told Lyla, “Don’t spread rumors.” Lyla pouted and nodded, then doubled down. “Then I assume Sister put all her effort into the test? You must have done well, right?” Mr. Lynn said, “Holly, let me see the report card.” I obediently handed it over, adding, “I missed a bunch of easy questions. Bad day.” Mr. Lynn’s eyes widened when he saw the paper. “You’re in the Star Class.” Lyla looked like she’d swallowed a fly. Mrs. Lynn leaned in, looked, and immediately beamed. “Star Class! That’s my daughter! Genes don’t lie!” “Good, good. Study hard so you can take over the company.” Mrs. Lynn hugged me and shoved a black card into my hand as a reward. Mr. Lynn read the report card over and over, muttering, “Nice. Very nice. She has talent.” Lyla stood to the side, staring at us with eyes full of poison. That night, a dead rat was shoved under our door. Its insides had been hollowed out. There was a note inside. Jock: [Does it say ‘The Revolution Begins’? Doge_face.jpg] Bella: [Bruh.] Prez: [Ignore him.] Heartthrob: [Open it! Open it!] I opened the note. It was one sentence. So you got into the Star Class. I can still make your life at school a living hell.

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I fell into a deep sleep that winter, only to awaken in another, seven years later. Dressed in a hospital gown and a tattered coat borrowed from a nurse, I was wandering the streets like a beggar when I saw him: my husband, giving an interview on a major financial news network. The reporter asked, “Mr. Holub, looking back on your journey, is there anyone you’re most grateful for?” My husband smiled. “There are many people I have to thank—my parents, the friends who built this company with me. But most of all,” he paused, his gaze softening, “I want to thank my wife.” “Aurora Bell.” 1 “I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes, but with no family member available to cover the subsequent cryogenic preservation fees, the Institute had no choice but to initiate an early reanimation.” I opened my eyes in a haze, assuming thirty years had passed. That winter, my battle with brain cancer had left me with a shaved head. “Leo, don’t look. I’m hideous.” At the time, medical science had no cure. To save my life, Leo Holub had placed me in a cryo-chamber, signing a thirty-year preservation agreement. He arranged for monthly payments to be made from his account. He’d said paying monthly would be a way to remember me every month. He signed for thirty years, promising that if he were gone before then, he’d leave his entire estate to continue the payments, enough to keep me preserved until a cure was found. If he was still alive after thirty years, he’d renew for another thirty, and another, until the day they could finally heal me. “What are you afraid of? You’re not hideous,” he’d said, gently caressing my cheek. “You always said a shaved head is the ultimate test of beauty. You’re just as beautiful now as you’ve always been.” “Besides,” he’d added with a soft smile, “by the time I get to wake you up, I’ll probably be a wrinkled old man. You’d better not find me too repulsive then, Winter.” “How long was I in the chamber?” On the front desk, I saw a business journal. On the cover was Leo, dressed in a tailored black suit, his tie knotted perfectly, leaning casually in an armchair. My Leo. Still so young, so handsome. “Ms. Hayes, the current date is December 1st, 2027. You entered cryo-sleep on December 25th, 2020. Because the payment for November was not received from the designated account, we chose to reanimate you this month.” “Also,” the receptionist added, “we’ll need you to settle the outstanding balance for November. The total is fifteen thousand dollars.” Fifteen thousand. That same cursed number. Once, for fifteen thousand dollars, my own father had nearly sold me to an old man. Now, for that same amount, I had lost my only hope for a future. “Did you try calling my husband?” I asked, confused. “He would have paid.” I used the Institute’s public phone and dialed Leo’s number from memory. It connected. “Leo, it’s me. It’s Winter,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. Seven years, Leo. Though for me it was merely the blink of an eye, for him it had been thousands of real, waking days. My heart ached for him. “Winter? Summer? I don’t know anyone by that name. You got the wrong number, lady!” a gruff, unfamiliar voice with a thick accent grumbled back, laced with irritation. Did I dial it wrong? I tried again, and again. The same man answered, his voice growing angrier with each call, until he was shouting. “I said you got the wrong number! Are you deaf?” On my last attempt, the call wouldn’t go through. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed has been disconnected.” That’s when I finally understood. Leo had changed his number. 2 Leo never changed his number. He had promised me he wouldn’t, seven years ago. It was the autumn of 2020. The illness made me perpetually cold, and my vision was failing. I was walking to the hospital for a check-up, alone. At first, I could still make out the shapes of the sweet autumn blossoms lining the road, the hurried pedestrians, the children with their backpacks. Then, the world went dark, leaving only the lingering fragrance of the flowers. A kind stranger helped me to a bench. I didn’t dare move. The stranger tried calling Leo for me, dialing over a dozen times. No answer. “You can go,” I told them. “Thank you. My husband is probably busy. He’ll see the missed calls and come find me. I’ll just wait here.” After they left, I sat on that bench from morning until nightfall, terrified that if I moved, Leo would never find me. I just kept waiting. “Winter!” I turned my head toward the sound, my eyes vacant. The moment he saw them, he knew. I was blind. “Have you been waiting long?” He covered my eyes with his hands. “I was in meetings all day, I didn’t check my phone. It won’t happen again.” He took my hand, wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and guided me home. “It won’t happen again,” he’d repeated. “I’ve set your number to a priority contact, and I’ve set my number as the emergency contact on your phone. If you can’t see and can’t use the screen, just hit the emergency call button.” He guided my finger to the button on my phone, and his own phone began to ring. “My number will never change. I’ll always be the first person you can reach.” Nothing is forever. I picked up a discarded walking stick from the Institute’s lost and found, borrowed a winter coat from the receptionist, and left. Walking the streets, the city felt both familiar and alien. The roads were the same, but the storefronts were all different. Then I looked up and saw his face on a massive screen. Leo. He was still so young. Seven years had barely left a trace on him. In fact, like a fine wine, he had only grown more distinguished with time. The host was asking him, “Mr. Holub, who are you most grateful to for your incredible success?” “I have so many people to thank,” he said. “My parents, my friends and partners who struggled alongside me. But the person I am most grateful for is my wife.” He paused. “My wife, Aurora Bell.” “She has been my silent, unwavering support through it all.” On the screen, Leo’s smile was as gentle as it was the day he sent me into the cryo-chamber, as if he truly, deeply loved his wife. This woman named Aurora Bell. “So romantic,” a young woman passing by gushed to her friend. “I want a man like that someday.” I stared at the screen, desperately searching his face for any sign that this wasn’t him, but there was none. The faint scar above his eyebrow, the mole at the corner of his eye—every detail screamed that it was Leo. I pinched my thigh, hard. The pain was real. This wasn’t a dream from my long sleep. It was all real. Seven years later, Leo Holub had a new love in his life. Only I was still frozen in the past. I’ve always been the one left waiting. When I was five, my mother stroked my hair and said, “Mommy’s going to work. I’ll bring you back your favorite cotton candy.” The cotton candy at the street vendor was bigger than my five-year-old head. I waited excitedly all day, but all I got that evening was my father’s slap. My mother had run away. She never came back. The second time, I was seventeen. My bedridden grandmother suddenly found a burst of energy and promised to make me my favorite eggplant buns the next day. I sat on a stool by the stove, watching her knead the dough and prepare the filling. But the next day, the dough was still dough, the filling still filling. My grandmother had passed away in the night. The third time is now. I waited in a cryo-chamber, only to find Leo had married someone else. I wait, only to be abandoned. 3 I found my way to Leo’s company building. The receptionist was new. She looked me up and down. “Who are you? Who are you here to see? Do you have an appointment?” “No appointment. I’m here for Leo Holub.” I pulled the tattered coat tighter around myself. The December air was frigid. Cancer had wasted me down to skin and bones, and my head was still bare. “I’m his wife.” “His wife?” She scoffed at my appearance. “Ma’am, if you’re going to lie, at least come up with a better one.” She gestured with her chin toward a sofa. “And at least dress the part. There’s no way Mr. Holub’s wife would look like… you.” Her eyes scanned me from head to toe before she rolled them. “I really am his wife! We were married ten years ago!” “Do your homework before you try to scam someone. Mr. Holub has only been married for three years!” She waved over security. “Get her out of here. She’s bad for the company’s image.” Leo and I got our marriage license ten years ago, right after I turned twenty. It was partly for love, but also because I needed to escape my family. After my mother left, my father took up drinking and gambling. While my grandmother was alive, she could scrape together enough from odd jobs for my tuition, but after she died, the burden fell on me. I went to school during the day and worked as a tutor or at a bubble tea shop at night. My father would often steal my wages from my room. After he cleaned me out one time, I started giving my savings to Leo for safekeeping. We’d been together for three years by then. One day, while I was at work, my father called and said he’d fallen and hurt his leg. When I got home, I found a strange man in our apartment, his face flushed from drinking. He tried to drag me into the bedroom. My father had sold me for fifteen thousand dollars. I fought back with a knife, bit the man’s hand until I drew blood, and ran all the way to Leo’s apartment. “We should just get married,” he said, looking at me. “Then if your father ever tries to sell you again, he’ll have to go through me first.” He broke off a stem of a gardenia from a plant in the corner, fashioned it into a ring, and slid it onto my finger. “Someday, when I’ve made it, I’ll get you a real one.” He knelt on one knee. “Winter Hayes,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “will you marry the man in front of you? For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, I will love you always. Not even death can do us part.” “I will,” I’d whispered, marrying my love. “Please, don’t throw me out,” I begged the security guards now. “Just let me make one phone call to him. Just one.” I smashed a glass display case on the counter and held a shard to my own neck. Everyone froze. The receptionist, trembling, dialed the CEO’s office. “Hello, who is this?” A woman’s voice answered. “I need to speak to Leo Holub. Tell him it’s Winter,” I cried, my voice frantic and desperate. “It’s Winter!” “I’m sorry, I don’t know you,” the woman said, her tone languid and superior. “And I’m sure Leo… he wouldn’t know you either.” “Aurora, who is it?” I could faintly hear a man’s voice in the background. “No one important. Probably a wrong number,” the woman’s voice replied, muffled. “Leo, darling, you get back to work. I won’t disturb you.” The glass shard fell from my hand, leaving a thin line of blood on my neck. Security guards swarmed me, dragging me out of the building and dumping me on the sidewalk. Through a blur, I thought I saw the flash of cameras. How would they write about me online? A fraud claiming to be Leo Holub’s wife? A delusional fan? My vision failed again, the tumor’s symptoms flaring up with the extreme stress. I collapsed to the ground, helpless. I couldn’t find my way. Leo, I can’t find my way home again.

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My little brother, whose voice was cracking through puberty, came to my room to leach off my Wi-Fi. “Sis, can I just crash your network? I’ll stand right by the door, I won’t come inside.” My childhood best friend and arch-nemesis, on the phone with me, completely misheard the situation. He roared into the phone: “What the hell are you doing? I’m coming to your place right now! Tell that guy not to move!” Chapter 1 What’s the consequence of not coming home from college for a year? Well, you get a life-or-death call from my dearest and most revered mother. “Skylar Li! If you don’t get your butt back here this summer, don’t bother coming back ever!” I had no choice but to pack my bags and head home. When I saw Jamie Li at the station, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I remember him as a little squirt before I left for college, but now he had stretched out and actually looked like a decent human being. Seeing me, his eyes lit up, and he waved sheepishly. “Sis!” I hurried over and reached up to pat his head. “Not bad! A year away, and you’ve shot up so tall. Your voice is deeper, too. Are there a lot of girls at your school who have a crush on you?” He blushed even harder. “Sis, what are you talking about?” He took my luggage and led me out of the station to grab a cab. I blinked twice. “Where are Mom and Dad? Aren’t they here to pick us up?” He blinked twice too. “Mom and Dad went to Miami two days ago. They aren’t back yet.” I was stunned. “Wait, they made me rush home, but they aren’t even here? Is that reasonable?” Jamie was silent for a few seconds, then said, “I have even worse news. Want to hear it?” I sighed. “Spit it out. Nothing can break me now.” Jamie: “Our home Wi-Fi is busted. No internet at home; we have to use data.” Okay, I was too arrogant. I should have said, any slight inconvenience can absolutely break me. The Wi-Fi being broken is pure cruelty for two internet-addicted teens like Jamie and me. It’s like finding a bathroom when you’re desperate but there’s no toilet paper, or pulling out an umbrella in a downpour only to find it’s broken. I asked expressionlessly, “So what now? Let’s crash an internet cafe all night.” He asked, “Do you have any money?” Me: “?” Jamie smiled sweetly, delivering the most brutal truth. “My allowance got cut off because my grades sucked last semester.” The air was quiet for a moment. I stated a painful fact: “Truthfully, mine was, too.” We stared at each other, seeing mutual despair, pity, and the shared agony of not being able to function for the next few days. “Wait a minute!” I suddenly remembered something, and my eyes lit up. I started digging through my bag. I pulled out a small white device and waved it in front of Jamie. His eyes lit up too. “Sis, is that a mobile hotspot?” I nodded. I had bought this mobile hotspot recently, but the signal was so-so, and I was planning to return it. I never expected it to be so useful now. Back home, I immediately set up the mobile hotspot. Seeing the full signal strength, I smiled with relief. Just as I finished fiddling with it, my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID, pursed my lips, and answered grumpily. “Caleb Evans, are you sick? Why do you call me every day?” He said smugly, “Just checking to see if my arch-nemesis is still alive and kicking.” I scoffed, continuing to hook up the data cable to my laptop, my butt sticking out. Caleb then asked, “Skylar, what are you doing? Why are you breathing so heavily?” Before I could answer, Jamie lightly knocked on the door, pointed to his phone, and asked pitifully, “Can I just crash your network? Don’t worry, I’ll just leach here. I won’t come inside.” I chuckled. Ah, the awkwardness of a teenage boy. He used to barge right into my room, but now he understood boundaries. I waved him in. “It’s fine. You can come in, I’m just…” “SKYLAR LI!” Caleb’s voice blasted through the phone, straight to my skull. “What are you doing right now?! Who is that dog of a man next to you?! I’m coming to your house right now! You wait there!” Me: “Are you psycho?” Chapter 2 I hung up. Jamie looked at me, full of gossip. “Sis, who was that?” I answered without thinking. “Just a childish punk who still wets the bed at eight years old.” He nodded knowingly. “Oh, right. Caleb.” I froze. “How did you know I was talking about him?” He shrugged, looking slightly exasperated. “Every time you two fight, you bring up Caleb wetting the bed at eight. I’m sick of hearing it.” I looked up at him, suspicion in my eyes. “I do that?” “Yeah, you do. If I didn’t see you two fight so fiercely all the time, I’d actually suspect you had a thing for Caleb.” I narrowed my eyes and ground my teeth. The look of a person plotting murder is hard to hide. But clearly, my sweet, naive little brother didn’t realize his beautiful, kind fairy sister was out for blood. He just kept chattering away. “But I remember after you graduated, you stopped fighting with Caleb so much. He’d look for you, but you wouldn’t go out. I thought you guys had a falling out, but I guess not.” I pursed my lips, lowering my gaze. A fleeting memory flashed—two figures wrapped in an embrace in a dark alleyway that night. I clicked my tongue and said threateningly, “Jamie, if you don’t shut up right now, you will lose your Wi-Fi access.” Before I finished, he immediately stopped and made a gesture of zipping his mouth shut. I nodded in satisfaction and continued connecting the cables. Once everything was set up, I gave Jamie the password and graciously allowed him to play on the beanbag chair in my room. I pulled out my own phone and started scrolling through videos, though my mind was elsewhere. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the front door code being entered and failing downstairs. I nudged Jamie with my foot. “Did you hear a noise downstairs?” He took off his headphones, listened closely, and looked at me. “Yeah, I heard it.” We stared at each other. I heard a dry, strained voice squeeze out of my throat. “Mom and Dad went to Miami, right? Then who is opening the door?” He swallowed, grabbed the small vase from my side table, and eyed the door warily. “Don’t worry, Sis! I’ll protect you!” I heard heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs, and Caleb’s easily recognizable, almost-piercing voice shouting, “Skylar Li! I’m coming in! Put some clothes on!” Me: “?” I didn’t know why he was emphasizing the clothes, but I yelled back, “I am wearing clothes!” As if my response triggered him, my bedroom door was kicked open with a bang. The force was so strong the lock mechanism flew off the frame. I ignored the door, staring at the person standing in the doorway—sweaty, breathing heavily, completely out of breath. I asked in disbelief, “Caleb Evans? What are you doing here?” I hadn’t seen him in a long time. The image of the awkward, young boy from high school was now replaced by the outline of a man. He looked… maybe a little hotter than before. Caleb caught his breath, checked out Jamie for a few seconds, then looked back at me, his voice filled with anger. “Skylar Li, how dare you bring a man home when your aunt and uncle aren’t here?” Me: “?” Perfect. My earlier thought about him being hotter was clearly wrong. He’s the same old jerk. Jamie turned his head, blinking blankly at me. “Sis, Caleb?” I nodded, got out of bed barefoot, gave Caleb a hard flick on the forehead, and gritted my teeth. “What the hell are you rambling about? That’s my brother!” Chapter 3 Speaking of which, Caleb and I grew up together; we were childhood friends. But unlike other childhood friends—who usually end up dating or are like siblings—we were sworn enemies who fought constantly. For instance, we’d argue for three days straight over whether to dip dumplings in vinegar or soy sauce, or whether sweet zongzi (rice dumplings) were better than savory ones. Any contentious topic would trigger an argument between us. But since my mom and his mom have been best friends for decades, and they’re godmothers to both of us, Caleb and I were in the same school and class all the way up. For the first eighteen years of my life (minus the years we couldn’t talk), we had a huge fight every three days until we went to different universities. I watched the outrage on Caleb’s face crack, replaced by confusion. I sighed, stating the facts. “This is Jamie.” He repeated in disbelief, “This is… Jamie?” Jamie nodded. “That would be me.” Caleb gave a dry laugh. “Ah, well, I haven’t seen you in so long. You’ve grown so much. I almost didn’t recognize you.” Jamie said earnestly, “You mean you didn’t recognize me, right?” Silence is the new aesthetic. With a mouth like Jamie’s, I knew he hadn’t dated anyone. Who would want to date a guy who kills a conversation instantly? I sighed, breaking the awkward silence. “Caleb, how did you get our front door code?” He answered righteously, “My godmother gave it to me, of course! She said she was worried about you being home alone and asked me to come take care of you.” Jamie raised his arm, pointing a finger at himself, and interrupted. “Wait, my mom said my sister was home alone? What about me?” Caleb smiled apologetically. “Sorry, she didn’t mention you were here. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” Jamie’s heart shattered. He turned and trudged upstairs dramatically. I felt like I’d heard the punchline to the world’s greatest joke. “My mom, asking you to take care of me? Did I hear that right?” He shrugged. “If you don’t believe me, call her.” I immediately grabbed my phone and called my mom. “You made it home?” My mom’s lazy voice came through the phone. I was slightly annoyed. “I sent you the train ticket info. I’ve been home for a long time.” “Oh, I didn’t look. Why are you calling?” I was even more annoyed, asking concisely, “Mom, did you give Caleb our front door code?” She admitted it instantly. “Yes, I gave it to Caleb.” I glanced at Caleb, who gave me a smug look, as if saying: See? I told you so. I covered the phone, whispering, “Mom, how could you give our code to an outsider?” My mom scoffed. “Caleb is my godson. He’s not an outsider. Besides, you’re home alone, and your dad and I were worried. Your godmother and the Evans are with us, so the two of you can look out for each other.” “Jamie is home! I don’t need his help!” “Oh? Jamie’s home? I forgot. Oh well, that’s the deal. Your dad and I are about to go skydiving. Gotta go.” Before I could say anything else, she hung up. Me: Confused-Black-Man.jpg Chapter 4 I stared at the disconnected phone, completely bewildered. I’d never had such a ridiculous day. Caleb stood there, hands in his pockets, saying arrogantly, “Now you know I was telling the truth, right? If my godmother hadn’t begged me, I wouldn’t have come to babysit you.” I rejected him instantly. “No thanks. Ugly alert.” If I had called him ugly before, he would have argued with me for hours. But this time, I watched him open his mouth, swallow his response, and then smirk, hitting me with a soul-crushing question: “Do you two know how to cook?” First blood. “You want to order takeout? I heard your godmother cut off both your cards.” Double kill. “I remember neither of you can cook. Are you planning to blow up the kitchen?” Ace. His barrage of insults completely dazed me. I managed to ask, “You’re being so eager. Are you planning to poison the food and assassinate me?” He looked at me like I was an idiot, subtly asking back, “Did someone pay a hundred million bucks for your brain?” I snapped, “Your brain is the one that’s never been used!” After weighing the options between delicious, home-cooked food, instant ramen, or risking food poisoning by cooking myself, I decided to temporarily bury the hatchet with Caleb. Caleb had suddenly started learning to cook in high school, and I remembered his food was actually pretty good. With that in mind, I sincerely welcomed him. “This household welcomes you. It’s an honor for you to join us.” Caleb: “?” I rubbed my hungry stomach and issued a cooking invitation. “Since you’re here, why don’t you cook before you go?” He twitched, then resignedly turned and headed downstairs to the kitchen. I happily followed, intending to grab a snack from the fridge to tide me over. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “What, you think I’ll poison you?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m hungry. I’m going to grab a snack from the fridge.” “Eating snacks when dinner is almost ready?” My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to check the message, complaining as I did so. “Caleb, why do you sound like my mom?” “That just proves that your godmother and I are on the same page. Look at your unhealthy diet.” I mumbled, “Uh-huh, Nsdd.” (Not So Damn Disagreed) “What was that?” I ignored him, quickly scanned the message, typed a reply, and sent it off. I locked my phone and smiled at Caleb. “You can just cook for Jamie. I’m going out to eat.” His face instantly changed. “Going out? Why? With who? Boy or girl? Do I know them? What time are you coming back?” I tossed my hair. “Stay out of a beautiful woman’s business.” I turned and walked upstairs. Only when I got back to my room did I remember that Caleb had kicked my door down. Looking at the door, which was hanging precariously on its hinges, my temple started throbbing. How much force did that jerk use to kick my door? I frowned, debating for a moment. I decided to change clothes behind the curtain drawn between the closet and the bed, hidden from the doorway. “No way, Skylar Li, you have to tell me who you’re meeting. Otherwise, what am I supposed to tell my godmother?” I heard Caleb’s voice getting closer. I frantically tried to pull my shirt off, but the clasp snagged in my hair. The more I struggled, the tighter it got. “Wait…” Before I could warn him, he was already in the room. “Why aren’t you talking? You…” Caleb walked in, and we made eye contact. He suddenly choked on his words, his eyes locked on me. My shirt was still snagged at my neck, the bottom hanging down, but offering no real coverage. Even though I instantly spun around, it was too late. My face burned. Seeing him standing there, frozen like a crashed computer, I gritted my teeth and roared, “Caleb Evans! Get the hell out and turn your back!”

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For our anniversary, my husband, Reid, promised me sunflowers. They’re my favorite. But when he walked through the door, it wasn’t a brilliant yellow bouquet he held. It was a cheap bag of sunflower seeds. “Sorry, babe,” he said, handing them to me. “Money’s a little tight right now. These are sunflowers too, right? Just a temporary substitute.” I was furious, but I tried to understand. I forced a smile and started cracking the seeds. The very next day, I saw a post from his junior secretary on her social media feed. It was a photo of her, beaming, holding a massive bouquet of sunflowers, with my husband standing proudly beside her. The caption read: “Here’s to a future that’s always facing the sun.” So, it wasn’t that he didn’t have the money. He just didn’t want to spend it on me. Without a word, without a fight, I quietly liked the post. Moments later, my phone rang. It was Reid. “Honey, don’t get the wrong idea. She’s been doing great work lately, it was just a bonus.” “Can you just help clear this up? I’ll come home tonight and we can sort this out.” But I was so tired of his pathetic excuses. “No need,” I said, my voice calm and clear. “Let’s just get a divorce.” 1 The line went silent for a beat before Reid’s voice, tight with irritation, came through. “I was just motivating an employee, Clara. Her performance has been outstanding. Besides, half of this company is yours. Everything I do is for our benefit!” “You have no gratitude, and now you’re making jokes about divorce.” “Let me tell you something, marriage isn’t a game. This is your only warning.” “I gave you a chance to be reasonable, and you threw it back in my face. Don’t blame me for what happens next!” He slammed the phone down. I let out a long, slow breath and turned to the woman sitting across from me. “Ms. Collins,” I said to my lawyer, “what’s the best way to maximize my share of the assets?” He didn’t know it, but I was done. This time, I was serious. After Ms. Collins left, I scrolled through my phone. The comment section on the secretary Olivia’s post was exploding. Most of them were from my own team members, people I’d hired and mentored, and they were furious on my behalf. “Wow, so being a homewrecker is ‘facing the sun’ now? You’ve got some nerve. Teach me your ways.” “+1. I can’t believe she’s so proud of stealing someone’s husband. So all those late nights we pull at the office are just part of their little workplace romance drama?” The comments were brutal. No wonder Reid had called me in a panic. His precious new flame was getting roasted. But they were just speaking the truth. I’d known for a while that she was more than just his secretary. She was his mistress. But a small, stupid part of me had held on to the hope that he still had feelings for me, so I never called him on it. He’d hired her over more qualified candidates. He’d promoted her and given her raises despite repeated, costly mistakes. When the office gossip became too loud to ignore, I’d confronted him. He just looked at me with disappointment. “Clara, I thought you’d understand. I can’t believe you’re discriminating against her just because she doesn’t have a fancy degree.” “Have you forgotten why we started this company?” he’d asked, his voice full of righteous indignation. “To give people a chance, to treat everyone equally.” I actually felt ashamed. I’d even helped him squash the rumors. My trust was a joke, a fact I learned the day I walked in on them in his office. As I was lost in thought, a message popped up from my most trusted subordinate, Leo. “Don’t worry, Clara. If Reid treats you like this, it’s his loss. He’s blind.” Other messages from my team started pouring in, each one filled with genuine concern. My heart warmed. I was about to tell them to stop commenting on Olivia’s post, worried that Reid would retaliate, when a new notification appeared in the company-wide group chat. It was a penalty announcement from Reid. “Effective immediately, any employee found wasting time on their phone during work hours will have their monthly salary cut in half. A second offense will result in immediate termination.” I scanned the list of penalized employees and a cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. Every single person who had liked or commented supportively on Olivia’s post was fine. The ones being docked pay? Every single person who had defended me. My phone immediately blew up. “Reid has gone too far! Clara, this isn’t about us, he’s targeting you!” “Clara, have you ever thought about leaving and starting your own thing?” “Wherever you go, we’ll follow!” Seeing their outrage hurt. We’d been married for seven years, business partners for ten. He knew I was fiercely protective of my team. He knew loyalty and relationships were the most important things to me. So whenever I did something he didn’t like, he punished my people. I had tolerated it time and time again. But I was done tolerating. I made a phone call. The man on the other end answered with undisguised delight. “Clara! You finally came to your senses! Are you ready to join us? I told you that company was a dead end for you!” “I have one condition,” I said. “Name it. One, ten, a hundred conditions, I don’t care. Anything for you.” “I’m bringing my team with me.” He was ecstatic. “That’s fantastic! Our company is just getting started here, we need good people. I’ll draw up the contracts right now. Everyone’s salary and commission will be double what you’re making now. No, three times!” Reid seemed to have forgotten a crucial fact: my team and I were the ones who had landed over half of the company’s major contracts. We were consistently the top-performing unit, yet we were constantly being undermined because of me. We had become Reid’s leverage, his way of keeping me in line. Not anymore. 2 The international firm had been trying to recruit me for six months to lead their expansion into the domestic market. I’d turned them down before, but they saw my potential and had kept their offer open. I always thought I’d retire from the company Reid and I built together. I never imagined this day would come. After finalizing the details, I received the drafted divorce agreement from Ms. Collins. She advised me to find concrete proof of Reid’s infidelity to secure a more favorable settlement. I emailed the agreement to Reid and printed a hard copy. I was about to call and tell him to review it, warning him that I’d sue for divorce if he refused to sign, but he didn’t pick up. With a sigh, I decided to go to the office and find him. Just as I was about to leave, my phone rang. It was him. “So now you’re in a hurry?” he started, his voice dripping with condescension. “I tried to be nice, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m still pissed off, so nothing you say is going to work.” “I have to work late tonight, so I won’t be home. You should take this time to think long and hard about what you did wrong.” Then, I heard her voice in the background, sweet and cloying. “Reid, honey, come dry my hair!” The line went dead. Working late? His work was drying Olivia’s hair. A bitter taste filled my mouth. When we were newlyweds, I’d asked him to dry my hair, and he’d told me it was too much trouble and to do it myself. But for Olivia, he made an exception. Amazing what love can do. The flowers he couldn’t buy for me, he could give to her. The hair he wouldn’t dry for me, he would dry for her. He just kept twisting the knife. I pushed the thoughts away and met with my team and our new boss. Jason, the CEO, had just returned after years of living abroad and wasn’t familiar with the local market, so he had a lot of questions. The more we talked, the more confident I felt about the move. After the meeting, my team gathered around me. “Clara, listen to us,” Leo said earnestly. “A guy like Reid… he’s not worth it. You’ve got the looks, the brains, the talent. Why are you wasting it all on him? That Jason guy seems pretty great, just saying.” A sad smile touched my lips. I remembered his passionate pursuit of me in college, how he’d promised he would love me forever. People change. The man he was now was a stranger, a liar who hurt me again and again. And wasn’t I the one who let him become this way? In the beginning, I loved him so much that whenever he made a mistake, all it took was a few sweet words and I’d forgive him. He learned that I had no boundaries, and he started pushing them. The apologies became less sincere, and if I didn’t give in, he’d find ways to punish me. Now, his behavior was unforgivable. I had given him countless chances to hurt me, always hoping he would change. I was so naive. I shook my head, changing the subject. “My treat tonight! Let’s go celebrate!” We partied late into the night. When I finally got home, exhausted, I opened the door to find a surprise. Reid, who had sworn he wasn’t coming home, was sitting on the sofa. He had clearly been waiting all night. He caught a whiff of the alcohol on my breath and recoiled. “I’ve told you I hate it when people drink. Why did you have so much? Do my words mean nothing to you?” I laughed. It was because he’d said he didn’t like it that I always waited for the smell of alcohol to fade after a work dinner before I came home. He had no idea that half of our company’s biggest deals were closed over drinks. And for what? Just a few weeks ago, Olivia had sent me a taunting video. She was tipsy, looking up at Reid with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m sorry, Reid. I know you don’t like it when I drink. I won’t do it again.” He had cupped her face in his hands. “Silly girl. You can drink whenever you want. It’s not the drinking I hate, it’s the person who’s always drinking.” And then he’d kissed her. Remembering that, I swatted his hand away. “I thought you weren’t coming home.” He tossed a blanket at me. “I was worried about you being here alone,” he grumbled. “But you’re out having fun, not even a single call. And I even brought you takeout from your favorite place.” I used to love him so much I’d lost myself. Every time we fought, I’d be the one to come crawling back within a couple of hours, apologizing. But this time, I hadn’t responded to a single one of his messages all day. He must have sensed something was different. I looked at the food. It was all my favorite dishes. But I didn’t touch it. It was his classic move: hit you, then give you a candy. I wasn’t falling for it again. He didn’t notice my mood, assuming, as always, that a small gesture was enough to win me over. His expression softened. “Look, fighting is exhausting. Let’s just both take a step back.” “I’m willing to overlook the fact that you falsely accused Olivia and caused her all this trouble,” he said magnanimously. “But you need to give her that big contract you’re working on.” “She’s a natural at this. If you hadn’t been holding her back, she’d be much further along by now. If you do this, I can even cancel the penalties for your team.” Ah. So that was it. The early return, the takeout. It was all for Olivia. The depth of his love for her was almost impressive. He was even willing to act like he cared during our cold war, all for her. I laughed coldly. “Fine.” A smirk touched his lips. He wasn’t surprised by my surrender; this was how it always went. “Next time, think before you act. If you hadn’t been so petty, liking that post and telling your team to bully her, we wouldn’t have had this fight.” “Anyway, it’s over now. Go transfer the project files to her.” I pulled my company ID out of my pocket and tossed it on the table in front of him. “One contract isn’t enough,” I said with a smile. “My position, too. Give it to her.” 3 Reid froze. “What are you talking about?” “She’s so brilliant,” I said sweetly. “She deserves a senior position.” “I am trying to have a reasonable conversation with you, and you’re throwing another tantrum?” His face darkened with displeasure. When I refused to give up the project, he accused me of targeting Olivia. Now that I was giving up everything, he was accusing me of being unreasonable. See? In the eyes of someone who doesn’t love you, you can’t do anything right. I stopped talking. Seeing my silence, his brow furrowed. “Is this all because of a stupid bouquet of flowers? Fine, I’ll go buy you some right now. Is that what you want?” he snapped. “God, you’re so childish, holding a grudge over something so small.” He still thought this was about the flowers. “No, thank you. You should save your money for your beloved Olivia.” His face flushed with anger. He grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. “I told you, Olivia and I have a purely professional relationship! Why are you so damn cynical, just like everyone else?” “You know the truth.” “Fine!” he yelled, his face turning a blotchy red. “If you’re going to be like this, then just tell me! What will it take for you to give the contract to Olivia?” I pulled out the divorce agreement I had prepared, flipped to the last page, and pointed. “Sign this, and the project is hers.” He snatched it from my hand and grabbed a pen. He probably thought it was just another document, maybe a stock transfer agreement. It was all our money anyway, what did it matter? Without a second thought, he scrawled his name on the signature line. “You’d better do what you said!” he warned, and stormed out of the apartment. The old me would have cried all night, staring at the door he’d slammed behind him. But now? I felt a profound sense of calm. I went to bed and slept soundly. When I woke up, my phone had exploded again. This time, it wasn’t my team being demoted and fined. It was me. An official company memo read: “Since a certain individual feels she is unworthy of the General Manager title, her wish is granted. Effective immediately, she is demoted.” The people who had defended me had all been punished. Now, no one dared to speak up for me. I didn’t care. I took my entire team to HR and we all submitted our resignations. The HR manager frantically called Reid. “Mr. North, we have a situation… several people are resigning…” Before he could finish, I heard Olivia’s voice on the other end. “Reid, if you have something important to deal with, you should go. I can watch the movie by myself.” “No,” Reid’s voice was firm. “You’ve been through enough. I promised I’d make it up to you, and I will.” Then, his voice dropped to an angry hiss. “Resignations are a minor issue. Why are you bothering me with this? Can’t you handle anything yourself?” “But…” “But what? The company seal is in my desk drawer. Stamp the papers yourself and stop bothering me.” He hung up, then turned his phone off. The HR manager was at her wit’s end. With no other choice, she processed our resignations. The story that circulated, however, was that we’d all been fired. Olivia’s sycophants were gleefully reporting the news to her. “What good is talent if you can’t hold on to your man?” one of them crowed. “In love, the one who isn’t loved is the real loser!” They were badmouthing me, loudly and openly, just a few feet away. My team was ready to fight them, but I held them back. I smiled cheerfully at the gossiping group. “You’re so right,” I said. “I wish all of you the good fortune of having your partners find their own ‘true loves.’” Then I turned my back on their stunned, ugly faces and led my team away. “I’m in a great mood today,” I announced. “Lunch is on me. You guys pick the place.” My team started chattering excitedly, arguing between seafood and steak. While I waited for them to decide, I scrolled through my phone. A call came in from Jason. He’d heard we’d resigned and wanted to take us out for a celebratory meal. I ran it by the team, and soon our group was on its way to the restaurant Jason had chosen. Suddenly, Leo tugged on my sleeve. “Clara, look over there.” I followed his gaze and saw Reid and Olivia, holding hands, strolling through the shopping center. I said nothing, just quietly took out my phone and snapped a picture. One of their companions was teasing them. “Olivia, you finally decided to introduce us to the handsome mystery man you’ve been dating for three years! He’s so hot, no wonder you kept him hidden.” Reid smiled graciously. “I’ve been busy with work. My apologies.” Then he addressed the group. “Olivia tells me you’ve all taken good care of her. Whatever you want today, it’s on me.” Three years. Olivia wasn’t even out of college three years ago. So that’s how long it had been going on. No wonder he’d fought so hard to bring her into the company. Beside me, one of my team members kicked a chair in frustration. The noise startled Reid’s group. He turned, saw me, and his face went white. He dropped Olivia’s hand like it was on fire. “What are you doing here?” I laughed coldly. “So this is your ‘purely professional’ relationship?” He looked guilty for a split second, then remembered we were fighting. His voice boomed. “It was just an act for her friends! Are you too stupid to see that? And what gives you the right to yell at me?” “And you! It’s the middle of the workday and you’re slacking off! Do you have any respect for me as your boss? You and your entire team, you’re all docked a month’s pay!” Olivia, the one who took days off to go shopping, never faced any consequences. But for us, he was a tyrant. I smiled. “Forgot to tell you. My entire team and I quit.” “Have fun. We won’t be joining you.”

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1 The day the Blackwoods came for Ethan, a car crash shattered my world. The driver, heiress Isabelle Thorne, arrived at my hospital bed begging to marry him to avoid scandal. Ethan refused, tearing up the contract. Enraged, Isabelle ripped the oxygen tube from my nose, sneering that he would never marry a “vegetable” from the orphanage. Ethan threw her down the stairs, breaking her legs, and vowed revenge. Over the next three years, he destroyed the Thorne family. Once bankrupt, they handed Isabelle over to him. He forced her to be my caretaker, punishing her cruelly for any harm that came to me. But one day, after she scalded my hand with boiling water again, he forced her onto the floor beside my bed. As their bodies tangled, she gasped, “What if I get pregnant? Is this still revenge?” “Exactly,” he replied coldly. “You’ll have the baby. I will torture you forever.” When they finished, I slowly opened my eyes, tears streaming down my face. After four years in a coma, I knew the truth: Ethan had fallen in love with her. … “I told you, I could get pregnant!” “Ethan, can’t you be a little gentler? We’re not even married, don’t knock me up just yet.” The woman’s soft cries and struggles sounded less like resistance and more like the playful banter of lovers. My vision was blurry, clouded by a film of tears. As a sliver of light pierced the haze, I heard a familiar, husky laugh. “I don’t need to be gentle with you. I want you to feel the pain.” “I’m never letting you go.” As Ethan moved, the cloying, intimate scent of their passion drifted towards me. After four years in a coma, the first thing I smelled upon waking was her perfume clinging to his skin. “Take good care of Lily,” he commanded. “Next time, I won’t let you off so easily, no matter how much you beg.” Isabelle laughed, gathering her clothes from the floor and carelessly wiping the moisture from her body. “You’re a real sicko, Ethan.” A moment later, the curtain draped around my bed was pulled aside. The instant he saw me, someone’s breathing grew ragged and heavy. “Lily!” “Doctor! Get the doctor up here, now!” Ethan frantically shoved Isabelle aside, a raw, uncontainable joy exploding across his face. Covered in the marks of their lovemaking, Isabelle met my gaze and a triumphant smile spread across her lips. “Well, look who’s awake. Lily.” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I shouldn’t have woken up. In these four years… something had fundamentally changed. The Blackwood mansion wasn’t like the orphanage; the family doctor was there in minutes. “It’s a miracle! An absolute miracle!” the doctor exclaimed. “Miss Chen is truly awake.” At his words, a radiant smile lit up Ethan’s face. “Lily, this is amazing,” he whispered, kneeling down and pressing his face against the back of my hand, his voice thick with reverence. “I was so afraid you’d never wake up, that you’d leave me all alone.” For a fleeting moment, I was lost in a daze. How did someone like Ethan end up growing up with me? I first met him at Havenwood Orphanage when I was three. He’d been kidnapped. After the ransom was paid, his abductors turned on each other over the money. Four-year-old Ethan was injured in the crossfire and left for dead on the side of the road. By the time the Blackwoods arrived, all they found were the kidnappers’ bodies and a pool of Ethan’s blood. They assumed the worst. A few days later, villagers found him and brought him to the orphanage. He couldn’t remember his name or his parents. With a scar on his forehead, he became Leo of Havenwood Orphanage. We grew up together, leaving at eighteen to make our own way in the world. I remember, right before the accident, he had just rented a small, cozy apartment for us. I’d just gotten into a good college. Staring blankly at my own hand, my gaze drifted back to Ethan. A button was missing from his shirt, torn off in the heat of passion, now lost somewhere on the floor. This wasn’t Leo, the boy who swore he’d marry me as soon as he earned enough money. This was Ethan Blackwood, the heir to the Blackwood fortune. I tried to pull my hand away, but he sensed the movement and gripped it tighter. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly. “Lily, don’t worry. You’ve been unconscious for so long, it’s normal to have trouble moving. After a full check-up, I’ll arrange for the best physical therapists to help you. You’ll make a full recovery.” My hand trembled as I looked past him. Isabelle was staring at me. Noticing my gaze, Ethan instinctively moved to block her from my sight. “She won’t hurt you again,” he promised. “I’ve already made her life a living hell. She can’t hurt you anymore.” He leaned in, kissing my forehead as if to shield me from some unseen threat. But as he pulled back, I saw it—a smudge of crimson at the corner of his mouth. Isabelle’s lipstick. As he kissed me, the reflection in his eyes showed a faint red mark now transferred to my own skin. Filthy. I tried to form the word, but my voice was gone. A cold draft seemed to blow through my chest. In the suffocating silence, I let my eyelids fall shut. My heart seized, twisting in a knot of pure agony. I closed my eyes again. Ethan would never know. For the past four years, while my body was still, my mind was awake. I heard every word he and Isabelle spoke in front of me, every sound of their lovemaking. He was lying to me. Seeing me close my eyes, Ethan frowned and glanced over his shoulder. He saw Isabelle and assumed I was afraid, his voice laced with panic as he tried to explain. “You don’t want to see her, do you? Don’t worry, I’ll send her to one of the other houses. She won’t stay here.” “She has nowhere else to go but by my side,” he added quickly. “I’m keeping her close… to torture her. For you.” The pain in my chest was so sharp it felt like a physical blow. I tried to turn away, but my body wouldn’t obey. Isabelle took a silent step forward, but Ethan shielded me from her. With a cold expression, she turned and walked out of the room. Just as the door was about to slam shut, her voice cut through the air. “Ethan, I’m pregnant.” “And it’s yours.” For a second, Ethan’s face was a complete blank. I saw his fingers, hanging by his side, twitch as if wanting to reach for her retreating figure. Finally, he turned back to me. His expression was gentle, as if nothing had happened. “Lily, I have something to tell you.” “I’ve been waiting for you all these years. I made her pay. The Thorne family is bankrupt, her parents are overseas… she’s been abandoned.” “Listen to me…” He rambled on, recounting every detail of the three years I had missed. But he didn’t seem to notice how often Isabelle’s name slipped from his lips. “Isabelle is so stupid. Such a spoiled little princess, so easy to fool.” “If this wasn’t a civilized society, I would have played her to death.” “You have no idea how satisfying it was to see her kneeling and begging me for mercy.” He let out a short, harsh laugh, then his eyes lit up as if remembering something. “Lily, I took pictures. Let me go get them.” My fingers twitched. I wanted to stop him, but before I could summon the strength, the corner of his shirt disappeared from view. None of that mattered anymore. My eyes burned as I stared at the ceiling. Ethan was just like he’d always been, deliberately changing the subject when things got uncomfortable. He hadn’t even realized it himself—the flicker of joy on his face when Isabelle announced her pregnancy. I knew she was trying to provoke me, but Ethan’s smile… that wasn’t fake. Lying in bed, I tried to shift my body and froze. A needle. Isabelle had hidden a needle in my mattress. It pricked my skin. She always did this when no one was looking, these small, secret acts of torture. A pinprick is just a tiny red dot. Ethan would never check me that closely… no one would ever know. And even if they did… My thoughts were interrupted by hushed whispers from the hallway. “That woman’s awake. Miss Thorne was so close to marrying Mr. Blackwood.” “Miss Thorne is pregnant. You think a vegetable means more to him than that?” “What punishment? He’s just in denial. It’s love. He just needs someone to spell it out for him.” Turning my head was an immense effort. After being comatose for so long, opening my eyes and wiggling my fingers was my limit. The maids giggled as they looked my way. A stabbing pain shot through my heart, and I could barely breathe. “What are you all talking about?!” A furious roar made them all jump. Ethan was standing right behind them, his face dark as a storm cloud. He glared at the woman who had spoken first. “You’re all fired. See my secretary on your way out to collect your pay.” I watched him quietly. He still defended me unconditionally, just like before. But the old Ethan, the old Leo, would never have dodged my questions. When they were gone, he buried his face in my neck, his touch gentle. The tickle of his hair was a familiar comfort, but his next words were a betrayal. He held me tight, his voice low. “Lily, the baby was an accident.” “I’ll make Isabelle get an abortion.” His eyes were firm, but as I struggled to turn my face towards him, he covered my eyes with his hand. “But Lily… Isabelle has had a few miscarriages before. I… took her to the clinic each time.” “The doctor said this might be her last chance to have a child.” His breath ghosted over my hair as he spoke softly. “The doctor also said… your injuries from the accident were severe.” “We might… we might never be able to have children of our own.” “I want to…” My blinking fluttered against his palm. Before he could finish, the hand he held began to trace letters into his skin, one painstaking stroke at a time. “O. K.” I blinked again, a silent nod. Ethan went rigid, as if he couldn’t believe it. I slowly spelled it out in his palm a second time. By the third time, a tremor ran through him. He was speechless for a long time. “Lily… I’ll make it up to you. In the future.” The future? There was no future for us. In the long years he spent waiting for me, he had already fallen for that arrogant, beautiful monster. The moment the scales tipped in Isabelle’s favor, I knew. I had lost. Ethan wanted to keep that child. It was the fruit of their love. For the next two weeks, Ethan spent every spare moment with me during my physical therapy. I progressed from wiggling my fingers and blinking to being able to sit in a wheelchair and control my facial expressions. But I still couldn’t speak. The recovery of my speech was agonizingly slow. I communicated mostly by blinking or slowly tracing letters into Ethan’s palm. By the time I could stand on my own, a month and a half had passed. Ethan was working late in his study. I shuffled toward the door, my body trembling as I clung to the wall for support. “Just focus on the pregnancy,” I heard him say. “Don’t worry about anything else.” “I’ll help you with the Thorne family’s overseas ventures. They’re already breaking into new markets.” I froze, the blood turning to ice in my veins as I stared at the sliver of light under the door. Before I could process it, my phone buzzed with two new messages. The notification sound was jarringly loud in the empty hallway. My eyes fell to the screen. It was Isabelle. An unknown number had sent a voice message and a photo. “This was my first time getting pregnant. We’d been trying for a while.” “He’s very excited about this baby.” It was her voice. Ethan hadn’t made her get an abortion. He hadn’t even sent her away. Isabelle was living in another one of his mansions. One bigger and more luxurious than this one. She didn’t have to wait on me anymore; now, others waited on her. Her voice message was laced with triumphant laughter. “Ethan could never bear to make me get an abortion. He’ll take very good care of me.” “He comes to see me in secret all the time.” I fled from the study door, my phone vibrating relentlessly in my hand. “A cripple who can’t even walk or talk.” “You think I’m not good enough for Ethan? What does that make you? Waking up is even more miserable than being a vegetable, isn’t it?” “The first time we were together… he was the one who initiated it.” My eyes burned, a sharp pain lancing through my chest. Isabelle knew I wouldn’t reply. After her tirade, she let out a condescending laugh. “Delete all these messages.” “Or I’ll have that pathetic little Havenwood Orphanage of yours shut down.” A violent tremor shot through me. A flood of images filled my mind: Mama Rose, a tiny version of me, and a little boy named Leo. He wasn’t Ethan yet. That was where we grew up together. I had told him once that after I graduated, I wanted to go back to Havenwood. He had pressed a popsicle into my hand and ruffled my hair, a wide grin on his face. “Okay. And if I were a rich man, I’d donate tons and tons of money to Havenwood.” “We’d hire twenty nannies to take care of the kids.” “You’d be the beautiful Mama Lily, and I’d be Papa Leo.” The memory was a distant, muffled echo. My hands shook as I typed out a reply, one character at a time. “I’ll tell Ethan.” The person on the other end seemed to hesitate. But a few seconds later, the screen lit up with an incoming call. I answered. Isabelle’s voice was dripping with arrogance. “He already knows.” “He knew when I kicked out your precious Mama Rose and all those other paupers.” “In fact, Ethan helped me. Do you want to go see for yourself?” Her voice was a seductive whisper. I froze. After a long pause, I lowered my head and began deleting her messages, one by one. “Okay.” After Ethan’s car left the mansion, Isabelle arrived at the front door. The maids were clearly familiar with her, taking her coat and offering her a small, exquisite cake. One of them noticed me watching and smirked. “Mr. Blackwood’s special order. For… Miss Thorne. Her favorite cake, made by a chef from Europe.” “Maybe Miss Thorne will be moving back in soon.” “This isn’t for you. You shouldn’t eat it anyway.” I tore my gaze away. When she was ready, she easily led me out of the mansion. No one stopped us. I was bundled into her car, the maids watching us go as if they saw nothing. The car stopped. I was pushed out onto a familiar stone path. I looked up, and a high heel pressed down hard on my back. “Take a good look,” Isabelle sneered. “This is your precious Havenwood.” A roar filled my ears. My breath caught in my throat, the pain suffocating me. The old, dilapidated building, the once-neat vegetable patch now choked with weeds. Through the fence, I saw a few gaunt children. One of them spilled a bucket of water and was immediately slapped by a caretaker. “You little brat! Are you blind?!” This wasn’t my home. This wasn’t Mama Rose’s home. It was all wrong. Where was Mama Rose? I frantically searched, and Isabelle noticed my desperate movements. She leaned down. “Looking for that old hag?” “She didn’t want to ‘retire’ and hand the orphanage over to me. So Ethan forced her into early retirement and sent her abroad.” “All the old staff were kicked out, too.” My heart stopped. My hands clenched as I struggled to breathe. A soft laugh came from above me as Isabelle held up her phone. “It’s Ethan.” His familiar voice came through the speaker, muffled by background noise. He sounded… off. “Weren’t you supposed to be at your prenatal appointment? I’m here, but the hospital says you’re not.” “Oh, silly me. I must have gotten the date wrong,” Isabelle replied without a hint of sincerity. Ethan didn’t sound angry. Instead, Isabelle glanced at me with a smirk before cooing into the phone. “I’ve been looking at that plot of land the orphanage is on. The building is so old.” “I’m thinking of tearing it down and building a shopping mall.” I struggled desperately, craning my neck, clawing at the phone, trying to force out a choked, desperate “no.” “Then tear it down,” Ethan said. “Just don’t tell Lily.” My frantic movements ceased. Ethan’s detached voice continued. “I’ve hated that place for a long time. It’s a stain on my past I can never wash away.” “There’s no point in keeping it.” Amidst Isabelle’s triumphant laughter, her tone turned sweet and cloying as she flirted with him. “Well, if you marry Lily, I won’t be able to sneak into your bed anymore. I’m her enemy, after all.” The line was silent for a few seconds. Then, Ethan chuckled. “Then just be quiet about it. Don’t let her know.” “I’m not going to marry her. I’ll come see you tonight.” One drop, then another, splattered on the ground. I couldn’t tell if they were my tears or the first drops of rain. Isabelle’s high heel left a trail of bruises on my back and arms. I was dropped back at the mansion, a broken doll, and found Ethan just as he was about to leave. “Who did this?!” Seeing my disheveled state, he swept everything off a nearby table in a furious rage. He demanded answers, but the maids just exchanged glances and lowered their heads, feigning ignorance. His face was a mask of fury. As he moved towards the door, I reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He turned, and I forced a weak smile. “Leo,” I whispered, the sound raspy, “do you remember Havenwood Orphanage?” “Of course I remember. You have no idea how much I want to go back,” he said, his expression softening, a hint of anxiety in his eyes. “But I’ve been so busy.” “Why? Do you want to see her?” I shook my head, my voice still just a breath of air. “No rush.” I wasn’t used to his scent anymore. The cologne was too heavy. He gently applied ointment to my bruises, then looked up and froze. “Don’t cry. Did someone hurt you?” “Tell me who it was. I have money and power now. I can make them pay.” “Who took you out of the mansion? Tell me.” “Please, don’t cry.” All the pain and fear I had bottled up erupted in that moment. He looked helpless, pulling me into his arms and repeating those two words over and over. “Don’t cry.” He never could stand to see me cry. He used to say it felt like a piece of his own heart was being carved out. He carefully wiped my tears and stayed with me until I was back in my room. We sat together, leaning against each other, just like when we were kids. But when I woke up in the middle of the night, the space beside me was cold and empty. Long before I had woken, he had taken the car and driven off into the darkness. He went to see Isabelle after all. Standing by the window, I took out my phone with a trembling hand. Staring at the unknown number, I summoned my courage and typed a single line. “I need to see you.” After sending the message, I smiled through a fresh wave of tears. It’s almost over. Everything is almost over.

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The adoptive sister Chazz Kinnear raised, the one he was sworn to protect, died because of me. He knelt all night in the funeral hall, his eyes a landscape of ash and ruin, yet he still found the strength to comfort me through my own guilt-ridden tears. “It’s not your fault,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “Lily was just too reckless.” But after we were married, he imprisoned me in Lily’s underground mausoleum for seven years. There was no sound. No light. I was consumed by fear, then by hatred, until finally, I was driven to a desperate, howling madness. I bit off my own tongue. As I lay dying, Chazz’s hot tears shattered against my skin. “In the next life,” he whispered, his voice a venomous rasp, “if you dare come near Lily again, I will kill you with my own hands.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the day Chazz’s adoptive sister died. A sea of people was gathered on the mountaintop, waiting for the New Year’s fireworks. A frigid wind swept over the peak. I woke from the nightmare with a violent shiver. Beside me, Lily mumbled about being cold. Chazz took off his coat. In a single, fluid motion born of pure instinct, he draped it over my shoulders. … The air froze for a heartbeat. “Hmph. And you keep trying to tell me you and Clara are just friends,” Lily teased, breaking the tension with a laugh. But her eyes couldn’t hide the flicker of disappointment. “Now that my brother has a girlfriend, he’s forgotten all about me.” If only I had noticed the dangerous undercurrents of emotion between them in my past life, the three of us might have avoided such a tragic end. “Lily, don’t be silly. We’re just colleagues,” I said, shrugging off the heavy coat and wrapping it around her instead, carefully fastening each button. “It’s so dark up here, and we look a little alike. He must have mistaken me for you.” A strange fog clouded Chazz’s long, dark eyes as they settled on me. BOOM. A massive blue firework exploded against the black velvet of the sky, scattering into a shower of falling stars. The crowd roared with delight. In my past life, at this exact moment, I had been looking at Chazz. His head was bowed, his focus absolute, the corner of his lips curved into a slight smile. He was clutching his phone, his thumbs hovering over the screen, typing I love you in my chat window, only to delete it, again and again. In the end, all he sent was: Happy New Year. I’d found it both infuriating and endearing, and I’d called him out on it. He was caught red-handed, the tips of his ears blushing a deep crimson. After a bit of playful pestering, he finally gave in. He leaned close, his warm breath a whisper of pine against my neck as he quickly murmured, “I love you.” In that instant, the frantic thunder of my heart drowned out every other sound in the world. I was so lost in the moment that I never noticed Lily watching us, her expression lost and forlorn, before she turned and quietly slipped away into the crowd. In the early hours of the morning, the police called for the family to identify a body. I could barely recognize the battered, brutalized girl on the cold metal slab. It was Lily—the same Lily who, just three hours earlier, had been excitedly making plans with me to ride the carousel at the amusement park. This time, as Chazz watched the fireworks, his profile was etched in frost. Lily was still pressing him quietly. “Brother, do you really not like Clara?” BOOM. A cascade of pale pink and violet light washed over the sky. Chazz’s voice, cold and detached, cut through the noise of the crowd, each word a shard of ice piercing my heart. “I don’t.” “I could never love Clara.” Even though I had expected it, the words still stung. But it was for the best. Better to strangle all the suffering at its source. From this day forward, our paths would never cross again. I left without a sound. On the way down the mountain, I ran into Sophie, a friend from my department. “Clara!” she exclaimed, grabbing my arm. “What are you doing here alone? Where’s Mr. Kinnear?” “I… I had something to take care of, so I left early.” She stared at me, hesitating, before the words finally tumbled out. “You know tonight’s firework display? The one across the whole city? Chazz flew to Monaco and personally hired the lead designer from their international festival to replicate it, one for one.” “All because you mentioned offhand that you liked it.” The fireworks were fading, and the crowd descending the mountain grew thicker. Sophie pulled me aside, her expression one of utter exasperation. “You have no idea. That designer is a notoriously difficult old man. I spent two weeks just researching his personal preferences. After Chazz got to Monaco, he spent his days walking the man’s dogs and playing video games with his grandson.” “Can you even imagine it? The city’s famously cold and untouchable Chazz Kinnear, playing nanny for some stranger.” “After all that effort… you’re telling me you don’t feel anything at all?” I blinked back the stinging in my eyes. I didn’t dare. I couldn’t bear the thought of being locked away again in that endless, lightless tomb. A thing that was neither human nor ghost. … After what happened to Lily in my past life, I could never forgive myself. If I hadn’t pushed Chazz to say those words, she wouldn’t have slipped away into the night, right into the path of those monsters. But in the aftermath, Chazz had become even more attentive. A single sneeze from me would send him into a panic, rushing me to the hospital for a full check-up. If I was out of touch for even a few hours, I would return to his mansion to find the entire staff—maids, drivers, assistants—kneeling on the floor in silent terror. I truly believed he loved me more than life itself. Loved me enough to overlook the fact that Lily’s death lay between us like a chasm. Until I stumbled upon the hidden folder. Thousands of videos. Every single one was a scene of me, Chazz, and Lily, on one of our many outings together. But in every frame, my image had been completely erased. There was Lily, in a series of bizarre poses, laughing and talking to thin air. When Chazz occasionally appeared on screen, his gaze was fixed on her, his eyes overflowing with a love and adoration so intense it was almost painful to watch. The last video was of Lily, her skin unnaturally pale, lying in a crystal coffin. The audio was just Chazz’s low, desperate whisper. “She looks so much like her.” “Could she… become her?” Each word was a sledgehammer blow to my heart. So that was it. The name he whispered in the throes of passion… it was never mine. It was always Lily. No wonder he’d noticed me. On my first day, when Chazz had walked past the interview room, his gaze had swept over a dozen candidates from top-tier universities without a flicker of interest. But his eyes had stopped on me, tucked away in the corner, trying to discreetly slip out. Every moment I had felt special, every time I had been singled out for his favor, he had simply been tracing Lily’s shadow over my features, using me as a screen to hide his forbidden, incestuous love. He had watched calmly as I, in a hysterical rage, smashed everything in sight. His voice was a blade of ice. “You should be grateful you look like her.” Later, he locked me away in the mausoleum he built for her. The four walls, seamless and oppressive, were transformed into holographic screens, endlessly replaying home videos of him and Lily, from childhood to adulthood. January 15, 2003. A young Lily stands on a stool, stretching to reach a box of noodles on a high shelf. She clumsily boils a simple noodle soup, her hands still trembling as she carries the bowl to his bedside. “Brother, eat something first. The medicine won’t upset your stomach if you eat.” A feverish Chazz eats from the bowl she holds, his lips brushing against her fingertips. His face turns scarlet. May 22, 2013. He comes home late at night to find the living room light still on. Lily is curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, clutching his thick winter coat. Chazz just stares at her for a long time. Then, he leans down and presses a feather-light, reverent kiss to her forehead. … The images bathed every corner of the mausoleum in a stark, unyielding light. I would clamp my hands over my ears, squeeze my eyes shut, my nails scratching bloody trails into the walls. But it was no use. Lily’s laughter, her tears, her playful shouts… they were a swarm of tiny insects burrowing into my flesh. Day and night, it never stopped. At the height of my madness, Chazz’s deep, hypnotic voice would echo in the darkness. “Lily.” And I, numb, a marionette with its strings cut, would unconsciously repeat her name, over and over again. “Lily.” “Clara! You left without saying a word! I was looking all over for you.” Lily ran up to me, linking her arm through mine as if nothing had changed. “You look awful. Are you not feeling well? I remember you have that meeting with the Sterling Group tomorrow. Do you want me to ask my brother for some time off for you?” I fought the urge to recoil, but I couldn’t stop myself from gently pulling my arm free. “Lily, I’m resigning.” She froze, the words blurting out. “Why? I thought you loved working with my brother. You’re always using project revisions as an excuse to stick to his side. He hates the winter, but he still went on that business trip to Scandinavia with you.” “I always thought you two were…” I paused. She used to complain in that same joking tone about how Chazz and I were inseparable. I’d thought she was just annoyed we weren’t spending time with her. Only now did I hear the probing question underneath: what, exactly, was our relationship? This time, I couldn’t let that sword continue to hang over her heart. It was the only way she would live. It was the only way I would live. “Lily, your brother and I are just colleagues. Nothing more.” “Actually… I can’t stand him. He’s a complete tyrant. Every plan, every employee, has to bend to his will. I’ve had enough.” “I’m planning to study in France. If I’m lucky, I might just stay there for good.” Lily stared at me, stunned. Her eyes held a trace of reluctance, but it was overshadowed by a joy she tried to suppress, a slight upward tilt of her lips. I smiled, a sense of relief washing over me. Let it be this way. I wished us both the best in getting what we wanted. But as I turned to leave, I saw him. Not far away, a tall, imposing figure stood half-hidden in the dappled shadows of the trees. Chazz’s eyes, black as obsidian, were fixed on me. They were utterly devoid of warmth. Silent, dark, and bottomless. Just like they were in my past life, when I had begged him not to lock me in the tomb. Just as cold. The next day, my resignation was rejected. My visa application for France was denied. And suddenly, a dozen clients from projects that were already finished started lodging complaints about my proposals. I had no choice but to work late, night after night. Eventually, the entire six-hundred-person staff of Kinnear Industries had gone home, leaving only Chazz and me. We rode the elevator down in suffocating silence. When the doors opened, I practically bolted out, a weight lifting from my shoulders. But Chazz was faster. He caught up in three long strides, blocking my path, his shadow falling over me like a cage. “Why have you been avoiding me?” His presence was overwhelming, his eyes dark with a suspicious, probing intensity. My heart hammered against my ribs. My recent behavior had been so out of character that even my colleagues had joked about me no longer being Mr. Kinnear’s shadow. He’s been reborn, too. The thought struck me like lightning. He would inevitably wonder if I was still the same Clara he knew. In my past life, he had tortured me until my mind broke, until I truly believed I was Lily. I let him dress me in her clothes, coached me to mimic her every word, her every gesture. I called him “brother” with a docile smile. In the rare moments of lucidity, the horror, the disgust, the seething hatred would threaten to swallow me whole. Once, I grabbed a shard of a broken mirror and slashed it across my own face. “Chazz!” I had screamed. “You love looking at her through me, don’t you? You love this face! Well, I’ll destroy it! Look at me! I am Clara! Not your dead Lily!” Suddenly, a blood-soaked woman was dragged in front of me. Chazz brushed the matted hair from her face and, with a casual, almost bored air, sliced off one of her fingers. The woman’s scream was echoed by my own soul-tearing shriek. “Mom!” “Stop! Chazz, stop, I’m begging you!” He leaned down, his fingers digging into my chin, his eyes as cold and remote as a star as he looked at his new toy. “Tell me,” he commanded. “Who are you?” “I… I am Lily.” “Good girl. Stay with your brother, just like this. Forever.” … Was he testing me now? To see if I remembered? Was he afraid I would take my revenge on Lily? If he found out, would I be thrown back into that lightless hell? But after all the humiliation, I was paralyzed by a fear and hatred so profound I couldn’t possibly pretend everything was normal. I couldn’t fake the easy affection I once had for him. My knuckles were white from clenching my fists. Suddenly, a bright, cheerful voice broke the tension. “Brother, why are you working so late all the time? You promised you’d watch that mystery show with me. I’m too scared to watch it alone.” Lily came skipping over, clutching a warm bag of roasted chestnuts. The hard lines of Chazz’s face softened instantly. He let her pop a chestnut into his mouth. “Alright. Let’s go home now.” “Clara, you should come with us! The snowstorm is getting bad, it’ll be impossible to get a cab, and the subway has stopped running…” “She still has work to do,” Chazz cut in. “Brother, you’re such a slave driver! No wonder Clara was telling me in secret how much she dislikes you.” After they left, I tilted my head back, breathing a sigh of relief. The snow fell from the night sky in thick, silent flakes. It was just like the snow that had fallen that year we were stranded together on a deserted island in Scandinavia. Our car had been buried in a snowdrift, our phones had no signal. He’d moistened the last half of a cracker with melted snow and fed it to me. He had pressed his face against mine, his own body shivering. That was the first time I ever heard him cry. “Yesterday you were nagging me about getting back early to pick up Pudding from the sitter. If you die here, I swear I won’t ever take care of that cat.” “You said when we were old and gray, we’d race our wheelchairs.” “Don’t fall asleep, Clara. Don’t you dare.” … I couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe, once, Chazz had felt something real for me. But whatever it was, it was nothing against the bond he shared with Lily, forged over a decade of shared blood and bone. This time, all I wanted was to get as far away from them as possible. But in the days that followed, my workload doubled, and every visa application I submitted was rejected. My colleagues teased me. “Clara, looks like Mr. Kinnear plans to work you to death. He’s never letting you leave this company.” Lily, who had just arrived with Chazz’s lunch, overheard. Her face turned pale. That evening, at a corporate gala, Lily approached me, her arm linked with another man’s. “Clara, this is Ethan Cole, of Sterling Group. Remember when you went to negotiate that partnership? He couldn’t stop asking me about you.” “You were working so late the other night and had no one to take you home. Why not give Ethan a chance? He knows you want to go to France—he even booked tickets for a show at the Palais Garnier in Paris.” Ethan smiled, a warm, genuine smile, and extended a polite hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Clara.” Lily’s fingers twisted in the fabric of her dress. She watched me, her gaze intense, as if terrified I would say no. If this would finally put her mind at ease, then so be it. And perhaps, with the power of the Sterling Group behind me, I could finally vanish from Chazz’s world for good. I smiled back and extended my own hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Ethan.” Across the room, Chazz’s fingers tightened around his wine glass. His gaze was a physical weight, hot and piercing. The instant my fingers touched Ethan’s palm, a furious figure strode towards us. To the gasps of the onlookers, he grabbed my arm and dragged me from the ballroom.

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On the very day the “True Heiress” returned, I was kicked to the curb. My adoptive parents insisted I taste the bitterness their biological daughter had endured for twenty years. Ha, bitterness? To us real hustlers, this is just a little “budget cut.” Playing the underdog? That’s my specialty. 1 It was midnight, and a torrential downpour was hammering New York City. I stood outside the Vanderbilt mansion, owning nothing but the clothes on my back and the phone practically glued to my hand. Less than two hours after the real daughter came home, my adoptive parents threw me out. Lily, the real daughter, said she had suffered for twenty-two years in my place, so it was only fair I tasted what it was like to be destitute. The heavy iron gates slammed shut, and the icy rain slapped my face mercilessly. 2 As a corporate slave who transmigrated into the role of a disposable “fake heiress,” I enjoyed the high life for less than twenty-four hours before becoming broke again. I circled the villa and found a dry corner under the first-floor terrace, right below my brother Lucas’s room. “Don’t worry, she’s broke. Once she suffers a bit, she’ll realize how good she had it here. She’ll come crawling back to beg you soon enough,” Lily’s voice drifted down from the drainpipe. Tsk, so much for soundproofing in a mansion. I knew it. Lucas, who was all handsy this afternoon and giving off weird Flowers in the Attic vibes, was suddenly silent tonight. Turns out he wants to keep me as a pet. Well, he calculated wrong. For Lucas, owning only one luxury condo means poverty. But for a true hustler like me, having two hundred bucks in my digital wallet means I can survive for two weeks. Plus, I still had the eighty thousand dollars left over from this month’s allowance in my account. To the rich, that’s ice cream money. To us normal folks? That’s years of living expenses if I’m careful. What they think is hitting rock bottom is just a lifestyle downgrade for me. 3 Twenty minutes later, my Uber arrived. The driver got out with an umbrella and opened the door for me—a full VIP service that made me feel like an heiress again. Worth the 20% surge pricing. I don’t know what’s wrong with TV heroines who walk in the rain until they get a fever after being kicked out. Pure masochism. I don’t have money for medical bills. Life is hard enough; I’m not suffering unnecessarily. 4 The driver dropped me off at the nearest budget hotel. $150 a night. I took a hot shower and changed into the hotel bathrobe while sending my clothes to the front desk for dry cleaning. Before sleeping, I downed two packets of Emergen-C I ordered on DoorDash. When you’re out on your own, health is wealth. If no one loves you, you gotta love yourself. 5 I woke up feeling refreshed. Wearing my dry-cleaned clothes, I left the hotel and headed to a nearby wholesale market. I squeezed into a crowded stall and haggled like my life depended on it, spending a hundred bucks on four t-shirts, three pairs of shorts, and a pair of canvas shoes. As I left, the stall owner complained while bagging my stuff, “Girl, you dress so fancy but bargain so hard. I gave you the cost price and even threw in a nice bag.” Of course. I needed a decent bag to sell my Louis Vuitton outfit for a good price. It’s a pity about the lambskin shoes. Rich people must burn money for fun; these shoes got scuffed soles after one day. Can’t even sell them secondhand. But my rhinestone phone case is worth something. An $800 phone with a $3,000 case. If I hadn’t checked the shopping history, I wouldn’t believe money could be wasted like this. And the original owner of this body couldn’t survive and went to work at a bar? Brain dead behavior. 6 I spun like a top all morning and finally liquidated all my valuables. Now, nothing on me costs more than $29.99. It’s giving “Temu chic,” and honestly? I’m comfortable. This fits my spending habits way better. Walking with an extra sixty-five thousand dollars in my account, I felt like I was floating. Rich! I gotta treat myself. I found a hole-in-the-wall noodle spot near the CBD. Not much meat, but the sauce was authentic and fragrant. Best of all? Cheap. Fifteen bucks for a huge bowl, free noodle refills. I hadn’t eaten properly since last night, so I slurped it down fast. Scraping the last bit of sauce and meat, I let out a loud burp. I didn’t dare eat before selling my clothes, afraid of staining them and lowering the value. Wearing gold and silver makes me nervous; downgrading my lifestyle makes me happy. I guess I’m just not cut out for fine dining. 7 That afternoon, I bought a prepaid SIM card and swapped my $800 phone for a $200 budget Android. The familiar OS felt like home. Ah, smells like value. Dropping it doesn’t hurt my heart anymore! Durable as ever. I scrolled through my chat history. The last two days were filled with mockery and sarcasm, plus “sponsorship” offers from rich second-generation kids led by my “brother.” Screw them. Money rotted their brains. How did the original owner live like this? Her social circle was trash. Not even one brain-dead bestie to borrow money from. The most annoying message was from Lucas, acting like a king: “Have you realized your mistake yet?” What mistake? Does he think he can hang me from the city walls? It’s a society of laws, buddy. I sent a “F*** off” and blocked him. Realize my mistake? As if! What a piece of work. 8 After liquidating everything, I checked out of the hotel carrying a big black trash bag. Inside was my entire life: my new clothes, plus the hotel’s disposable toothbrush and slippers. Hotels in Manhattan are too expensive. I planned to move further out to Queens or Brooklyn. The reason I hadn’t left the expensive city yet was that, as a senior, I needed to pick up my diploma and degree certificate soon. Before transmigration, I was sent to a factory right after middle school. A true fish that slipped through the compulsory education net. Thinking about becoming a certified college graduate made me a little excited. Modern novels really lack logic just to torture the cannon fodder characters. Why would someone with limbs and a bachelor’s degree go work at the male lead’s bar just to get humiliated? Waiting for a drink to the face? 9 I went back to school the day after graduation, specifically avoiding the ceremony. Seeing Lily’s triumphant, high-and-mighty face once was enough. I didn’t need to nauseate myself a second time. We were actually roommates, though I only slept there once or twice. During school, I lived in a luxury apartment bought by the family, complete with a maid. Lily, who had to work part-time every day, was insanely jealous. Classic foil setup to draw aggro. One of the reasons she targeted me. But it wasn’t my fault, or even my parents’ fault. They were migrant workers who happened to have a baby in the room next to the VIP suite on the same day. The rival family that the Vanderbilts bankrupted switched the babies for revenge. The original owner’s parents were poor but responsible. They raised Lily to get into the same university as me before passing away from illness. I don’t understand why the Vanderbilt family had to humiliate that old couple. What did they do wrong? Do poor people not deserve to have children?

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While at work, I suddenly received an anonymous text. The sender asked if I would sell them my phone. If I refused, the consequences would be severe. I thought it was a scam and deleted the message without a second thought. But at lunch, a greedy coworker stole a drumstick from my DoorDash order, and he died on the spot. We thought it was food poisoning. But the doctor frowned and said: “Call the police.” “Cyanide poisoning. This was a murder attempt.” 1 “Can you describe exactly what happened at the time?” After the police arrived, they took the case very seriously. Homicide is no joke. I started to recount the events: “It was just like any other day. I grabbed my lunch delivery, but my boss suddenly asked me to run a file upstairs.” “So I left the food on my desk.” “My coworker got hungry and stole a drumstick from the box. And then…” The detective nodded. “Matches what we saw on the security footage.” “Our current assessment is that the target was you. Your coworker was just collateral damage.” “Think carefully. Have you offended anyone recently?” I shook my head. “I’m just a corporate drone. Who would I offend?” “At most, I argue with my boss about project proposals.” Hearing this, my boss standing nearby jumped in, terrified: “Officer, that’s normal work discussion! I wouldn’t poison someone over that! It’s not even my company!” The detective smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry. You were in your office the whole time. You had no opportunity to poison the food, so you’ve been cleared.” He turned back to me. “Think harder. Any conflicts of interest that might have happened unintentionally?” Suddenly, I remembered the anonymous text from that morning. I showed it to the detective. He frowned. “It’s highly likely this is the person responsible. But why do they want your phone?” I shook my head. “I have no idea.” The detective thought for a moment. “Come with me to the station. We need to check if there’s anything on your phone.” I spent the entire afternoon at the police station, but we found nothing. Photos, videos, chat history—everything was normal. What was the trigger that made someone want to kill me? With no leads, the police had to let me go home, advising me to be careful. As for food, they arranged for someone to deliver meals to me to prevent another poisoning attempt. That gave me some peace of mind. Back home, I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, trying to figure out how to solve this. The police had traced the number—it was a virtual number, unregistered. The location couldn’t be tracked either. All I knew was that until they got my phone, I was in danger. Of course, I couldn’t just destroy the phone. That might provoke them further. I picked up the phone and looked through it again. Nothing stood out. Was it like in the movies? Was there a microchip of drugs hidden inside? I examined the phone. It was a foldable, ultra-thin model. Even if there were drugs inside… How much could there be? A few grams? Surely not enough to justify poisoning someone! Unless they were crazy. I felt there must be something else in the phone that made them so desperate. Exhausted by fear, I eventually drifted off to sleep. Until a knock on the door woke me up. A voice called from outside: “Hello, I’m with the police department. Delivering your dinner.” I groggily moved to open the door, but something felt off. I looked through the peephole. The person was wearing a police uniform. But he announced himself as a police officer. Why was he alone? Don’t officers always work in pairs? 2 “Just leave it at the door! I’m in the bathroom!” I shouted from the direction of the bathroom. The voice came again: “I have some questions I need to go over with you. Just open the door when you’re done.” My heart sank. This guy was planning to come in! Logically, if they needed to contact me, they wouldn’t wait for meal delivery time. Detective Hu, who was handling my case, had my number. He could call anytime. Plus, when I left the station, everyone was busy. They wouldn’t have time to personally deliver food. It would likely be a cafeteria worker or an auxiliary officer. I went back to the peephole and stared at the person outside. His cap was pulled low, obscuring most of his face. What really confirmed he wasn’t a cop was his shoulder patch. It was crooked. Not just hanging crooked, but the uniform was too small, pulling the fabric weirdly. Police uniforms are fitted. This wouldn’t happen. Putting it all together, I texted Detective Hu immediately: Detective Hu, help! There’s someone at my door pretending to be a cop delivering food. He keeps insisting on coming in. Detective Hu replied instantly: Stay safe! We’re on our way! I typed back: Should I try to stall him? Detective Hu replied quickly: Prioritize your safety! You don’t need to fight bad guys. He didn’t say anything else, presumably rushing over. Hearing no movement from inside, the person outside grew impatient. He started banging on the door. “Sir, hurry up. I have another assignment.” “I need to verify some questions with you face-to-face right now.” I stayed silent, waiting for Detective Hu. But things didn’t go as planned. While I waited, I heard the lock being picked. The guy couldn’t wait and was trying to break in. Luckily, my lock was high quality. He fiddled for a while but couldn’t open it. He got more agitated. He started trying to force the door. Terrified, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a cleaver. If he came in, I’d hack him. I waited in fear. But the lock rattling stopped. The noise outside ceased. It seemed he had left. I cautiously looked through the peephole. He was standing there, motionless! He was pretending to leave to trick me into opening the door. He stood at a clever angle, avoiding the peephole’s view. But he overlooked one thing. The neighbor across the hall loved fashion and had a full-length mirror by her door. Through the peephole, I could see the reflection of a pair of men’s leather shoes in her mirror! I texted Detective Hu again: Detective, be careful when you arrive. He’s baiting me to open the door. He might have a weapon. Detective Hu repeated: Stay safe. Don’t be a hero. Catching criminals is our job. I stopped texting. I watched through the peephole. Suddenly, the person outside turned and left, seemingly giving up on the ambush. Shortly after he left, I heard hurried footsteps. Detective Hu called: “We’re at your door. Open up!” Then came the knock, and Detective Hu’s face appeared in the peephole… 3 “Are you okay?” Detective Hu asked patiently, then inspected the doorway. The suspect was careful and left no traces like hair or fingerprints. Detective Hu was puzzled. Why would someone target a regular office worker like me? He asked about my personal life again. Basically, a normal corporate slave life, 996 schedule (9 am to 9 pm, 6 days a week). Wake up, work, sleep. Almost no free time. The only potential conflict source was mobile gaming. Not that I’m toxic! But when your mid-laner feeds, your jungler is useless, and your support steals kills… Anyone would rage! “Those players, I swear…” I got agitated. Detective Hu sighed. “Alright, alright, Jason. I get it.” “Working all day only to get trolled in a game is frustrating.” “But I don’t think a bad game warrants assassination.” “Unless they’re psychopaths killing for fun.” I looked miserable. “What if they really are psychos?” “Am I doomed?” Detective Hu comforted me. “Don’t worry, we’re investigating.” “It’s only been six hours. We haven’t even finished reviewing the surveillance footage.” “Solving cases takes time.” I nodded. About half an hour later, an older man knocked on the door. Detective Hu opened it and greeted him warmly. “Uncle Zhang, thanks for coming.” Uncle Zhang waved his hand with a smile. “No problem. I was free anyway.” “Besides, this counts as participating in the case, right?” “You know me, can’t sit still.” Detective Hu introduced us. Uncle Zhang, the designated food deliverer, was a retired detective. After retirement, he was bored and kept wanting to work. The department, seeing his enthusiasm, gave him a job in the cafeteria. Usually, Uncle Zhang wasn’t thrilled about it, but hearing he was protecting a victim, he lit up. Not only did he volunteer to deliver food, but he also geared up with a stab-proof vest and a baton. Planning to be my bodyguard! I looked at Uncle Zhang. He was fit, definitely stronger than me. But he was old enough to be my dad. I felt bad troubling him. Uncle Zhang patted his chest. “Don’t worry, kid. I was a champion in the police combat tournament back in the day!” “A couple of thugs are nothing!” Detective Hu sat Uncle Zhang down. Confirming I was okay, they left together. Uncle Zhang told me: “Kid, just leave the dishes when you’re done.” “I’ll pick them up tomorrow.” “I know you young people hate washing dishes.” Looking at Uncle Zhang, I felt inexplicably moved. If my dad were still around, he’d probably take care of me like this. I opened the lunch box. Beef stew with potatoes. Police cafeteria food was good; the beef chunks were huge. Eating, I replayed the day’s events. I opened my phone, scrolling endlessly. What on earth was in here that someone wanted me dead for? Still nothing. But I sensed something. Maybe I didn’t know the secret in my phone either. That’s why they just demanded the phone without saying what they wanted! But what could be on my phone that I didn’t know about? Pacing the room, my eyes landed on the door, and I realized something even more terrifying! Why did the suspect leave? And the timing was perfect? Just a minute or two later, he would have run into Detective Hu… 4 “He was in the stairwell. He couldn’t have known Detective Hu was coming up.” “That means he wasn’t alone.” My eyelid twitched. I looked from my window to the building opposite. The building wasn’t far. You could see into the living rooms. Looking down from my floor, the height was perfect to see the street below. Goosebumps erupted all over my body. If there was someone in the opposite building watching my every move when the knock came… It fits! The suspect avoiding the peephole, pulling his cap low… It was all to avoid my attention. A person outside the door couldn’t be so omniscient. But if there was a spotter across the street, it explained everything. My breathing grew heavy. If there wasn’t just one suspect, but two or more, I was in deep trouble. I kept thinking. My home wasn’t safe. If they didn’t want the phone back, but just wanted to destroy it, they had many ways. Like starting a fire! Or staging an “accident” in my home… Most importantly, I didn’t know what was on the phone. I couldn’t assess the danger or negotiate. I had thought about contacting them to give up the phone. But they didn’t know if I had seen the secret. They dared to poison someone. If they suspected I knew their secret, I was dead! First thing I did was close all the curtains. couldn’t let them see what I was doing. As for thermal imaging, I doubted they had it. Even for a large organization, that kind of equipment is strictly controlled. So, my temporary safety relied on the country’s strict gun control laws. I didn’t believe they could blow my door open with a grenade and spray me with machine gun fire! After closing the curtains, I checked the room for bugs. Maybe my place was bugged. As for next door, it shouldn’t be bugged. An elderly couple lived there; they didn’t rent out rooms. I had a good relationship with them, even ate with them before. Confirming the room was safe, I used my spare phone to call Detective Hu. Fearful my main phone was tapped. I looked at my phone, wanting to slap myself. I used it to contact Detective Hu earlier. Maybe there wasn’t anyone across the street; maybe the phone was just compromised. The call connected, and I reported to Detective Hu: “Detective, I found something new.” Detective Hu’s voice was calm: “Go ahead, I’m taking notes.” I told him my analysis and actions. After all, Detective Hu was the person I trusted most right now. He thought for a moment and said: “It’s very possible.” “The number used to text you has never appeared before.” “It was registered specifically for you and went dormant immediately after.” “We’ve backed up your phone data and are analyzing it.” “I’ll let you know as soon as we have results.” He paused, then told me the plan: “Don’t go to work for the next few days. I’ll get you paid leave under the pretext of cooperating with an investigation.” “Except when sleeping, send me a video message every two hours to confirm you’re safe.” “During sleep hours, I’ll arrange for plainclothes officers to patrol outside your building.” I thanked him profusely. But analyzing it, I couldn’t smile anymore…

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