Category: English

In my previous life, my newborn son was stolen on his second day in this world. My wife lost her mind. She spent six months searching for him before finally jumping off our balcony. I drank myself to death on the streets. In this life, I trust absolutely no one. When the head nurse said she needed to take the baby for a checkup, I stood up and blocked the crib. “What checkup? Which department? Where is the requisition form? Did the attending physician sign off on this?” She froze, stammering that it was just a routine hearing screening. “If it is a routine screening, why is the head nurse coming to fetch him personally?” “I do not trust anyone. Bring me the paperwork, and I will carry the baby to the examination room with you. Otherwise, this conversation is over.” She stood there, paralyzed. 1 The day my son was born, I held that tiny, wrinkled little thing, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Evelyn lay on the hospital bed, her lips pale, smiling up at me. “That new commercial tower in the South District. All twelve floors are going in this kid’s name.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “And the profit shares from the land parcel we bought last year, those belong to you.” “Everything I earn is for you and our boy.” Evelyn chuckled weakly. “You need to calm down.” I told her I would not calm down. I was too damn happy. The next day, my son vanished. Evelyn went completely mad. She searched for half a year before throwing herself from our balcony. I drank myself into an early grave in a dirty alleyway. Right before I died, all I could think about was the sound of my son’s first cry. This time around, all I wanted was for my wife and child to live. For an entire day, I did not let a single person touch my son. When the nurses came to take his temperature, I stood right next to them, watching their every move. But when Fiona, the head nurse, pushed the door open with a warm smile and said she needed to take the baby for a newborn hearing screening, my shirt instantly soaked with cold sweat. “Mr. Davis, it is time for the baby’s hearing test. I will take him down to the examination room on the third floor and have him back in thirty minutes.” She was wearing a surgical mask, leaving only her gentle, crinkling eyes visible. The junior nurse beside her nodded in agreement. “Nurse Fiona always handles the screenings personally. She is very experienced.” I stood up and planted myself directly in front of the crib. “What screening? Do you have the procedural paperwork? Did the head doctor sign it? And what hospital policy dictates that the head nurse must carry the baby herself?” Fiona looked taken aback. “Mr. Davis, please do not be so tense. This is a standard procedure…” “I asked if you have the paperwork.” I cut her off. I pulled my phone out of the nightstand drawer, opened the camera, and hit record. “Please repeat yourself. Who sent you, what exact screening are you performing, which room are you taking him to, and what is the attending doctor’s name? I am recording this entire process.” The eyes above Fiona’s mask narrowed slightly, a flash of resentment crossing her face. “You are overreacting, Mr. Davis. Newborn screenings are scheduled hospital wide. This maternity ward has been operating for over a decade, and we have never had a single incident.” “I do not care about anyone else’s incidents.” I scooped up the swaddled bundle. My son was sleeping soundly, his little face scrunched up. “I only care about my son. Go get the paperwork, and I will carry him to the examination room myself.” Fiona’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. “Mr. Davis, do you not trust me?” “It is not about trusting you.” I stared dead into her eyes. “I do not trust anybody.” The room fell dead silent for several seconds. Fiona took a step back and forced a polite smile. “Please wait a moment then. I will go print the forms.” She turned and walked out. The moment the door clicked shut, I looked down at the boy in my arms, then over at my wife sleeping in the hospital bed. I still remembered the way Evelyn had cried until her eyes bled in my past life. In this life, nobody was going to touch a single hair on my son’s head. 2 For the rest of the day, I held my son and refused to leave his side. Feeding, changing diapers, burping him. I did it all myself. When Evelyn woke up and saw me sitting on the sofa cradling the baby, her eyes grew red. “Nolan, you have not slept in three days.” “I am not tired.” I replied. She reached out and touched my cheek. Her fingers were freezing. “You look terrible. I am worried you are going to collapse.” “I will not collapse.” I grabbed her hand, my voice coming out gravelly. “As long as you and the baby are here, I can handle anything.” Evelyn did not push it. She knew me too well. Once I made up my mind, nothing on earth could drag me away. That night, I pushed the crib right up against my side of the bed and locked the ward door. I left a security camera running on the nightstand and synced my phone to my smartwatch so the slightest vibration would wake me. By two in the morning, my sheer exhaustion caught up with me. My eyelids felt like lead. I do not know how much time passed, but Evelyn’s piercing scream practically blew my eardrums out. “Nolan!” I shot up from the mattress. The crib was empty. Evelyn stood by the bed, her face the color of chalk, her lips trembling violently. She threw off the blankets to get out of bed, but her legs gave out before her feet even hit the floor. I caught her, my own fingers shaking uncontrollably. “Do not panic. Just lay back down.” It was exactly like my past life. The exact same empty crib. The exact same suffocating despair. Evelyn had jumped. I had died in a gutter. I stood there, my knees turning to jelly. Evelyn sank to the floor and sobbed, muffling the sound against her arms. “I did not watch him closely enough…” “It is not your fault.” I knelt down and grabbed her shoulders. “Look at me.” She refused to look up. “Evelyn, look at me.” She snapped her head up, her face drenched in tears. “Call the police.” “Right.” I pulled out my phone. First, I called hospital administration to lock down the building. Then, I dialed 911. Evelyn sat on the bed, hugging her knees, burying her face in her arms. The door to our room had been left wide open. More and more people were gathering in the hallway outside. Nurses, doctors, and family members from other rooms. People peeked inside, catching sight of the empty crib, and gasped. “Is the baby really gone?” “What a tragedy, he was just born a few days ago.” “What kind of parents are they?” “All that money, and they can not even keep an eye on their own child.” Evelyn’s shoulders began to convulse. She heard them. I stood up, walked to the doorway, and pulled the door halfway shut. Some people were still craning their necks to look inside. A middle-aged woman stood in the corridor with her arms crossed, gossiping loudly. “How do you lose a baby that big? Are we sure they are the real parents?” Another man chimed in. “They probably just did not care enough. Dressed all fancy, but too lazy to watch a newborn.” I looked back at Evelyn. She hugged her knees tighter, burying her face even deeper, her shoulders violently shaking. It was exactly like my past life. After my son disappeared, people whispered the exact same things everywhere we went. I pushed the door wide open and stepped out into the hall. The corridor went silent for a moment. The middle-aged woman scoffed. “Oh, here he comes. What do you want…” I stared a hole right through her. “What did you just say?” She shrank back a step. “I did not say anything. I just said…” “Say it again.” She clamped her mouth shut. The man next to her spoke up. “Hey, people are just showing concern. What is with your attitude?” I turned my eyes to him. “My son is missing. What exactly are you concerned about?” He opened his mouth but could not find a single word. 3 Detective Bennett pushed his way through the crowd with his team and taped off the room. “Mr. Davis, we are here.” I nodded. “Check the security cameras.” The hospital guards pulled up the footage. At 4:13 AM, the feed turned to static for exactly fifteen seconds. “The baby never left the building.” Detective Bennett confirmed. “Search everything.” His officers started tearing the place apart. Patient rooms, supply closets, cafeterias, operating theaters, bathrooms. Room by room. The crowd of onlookers in the hallway still had not dispersed. People were whispering among themselves. “The cameras were jammed. They are never getting that kid back.” “A baby that small? Whoever took him is long gone by now.” “These parents are unbelievable.” Evelyn sat inside the room, hearing every single word through the door. She had stopped crying out loud. She was terrifyingly quiet. I stood in the hallway, waiting. One of Bennett’s officers ran up and shook his head. Another officer jogged over and shook his head. Someone in the crowd let out a cold laugh. “What did I tell you? Gone forever.” I snapped my head in that direction. The person quickly ducked behind the crowd. Detective Bennett walked over and lowered his voice. “Mr. Davis, we have swept every room on this floor. Nobody.” “The cameras at the exits did not catch anyone leaving.” “That means the child is still inside this building. A baby does not just vanish into thin air.” It was exactly like my past life. Camera static, clueless nurses, and a baby evaporating from the face of the earth. Evelyn had starved herself for three days, withering away into a skeleton. She had told me that if we could not find him, she had no reason to live. I leaned against the wall, sweat rolling down the back of my neck. My brain was absolute mush. My legs felt like they were made of water. Bennett’s team swept room after room, and every time, they came back shaking their heads. I clenched my fists so hard my fingernails dug into my palms. And then I saw Fiona. She was standing behind the nurses’ station, her white uniform immaculate, holding a paper cup of water. She was watching the commotion just like everyone else. Her face was completely devoid of emotion. Perfectly calm. A memory from yesterday slammed into my mind. She had told me she needed to take the baby for a hearing test, and I had blocked her. I asked her a few extra questions about the paperwork, and she walked away. She never came back. But out of all the people working here, why was she the very first one to try and take my son? With dozens of junior nurses on duty, why did the head nurse show up at my door personally? “Fiona.” I barely registered my own voice calling her name. She looked up, her eyes locking onto mine. I started walking toward her. The nurses’ station was only a few yards away, but every step felt impossibly heavy. She took a half-step backward. “Mr. Davis…” “Where is my son?” “Excuse me?” “Where is he?” I grabbed the collar of her pristine white uniform and yanked her forward. The paper cup slipped from her hands, smashing onto the floor. “Give me my son back.” “Mr. Davis! What are you doing!” Her face drained of color as she struggled and tried to pull away. Two nearby nurses rushed over and grabbed my arms. “Let her go!” “You can not just assault people!” I did not loosen my grip. “Yesterday afternoon. You tried to take my son for a test, did you not?” “I was just doing my rounds…” “I asked you one question, and you left. You never came back.” “That is because you refused to let me take him!” “And the second you left, my son disappeared.” Her hands clawed at my wrists, her nails digging into my skin. “I did not do anything! I swear!” The police officers rushed in. Detective Bennett grabbed me from behind, pulling my arms back. “Mr. Davis, let her go!” He managed to drag me a few steps away. Fiona slumped against the counter of the nurses’ station, the collar of her uniform completely ruined. She gasped for air, her eyes turning red. “I did not do anything…” Her voice started to tremble. “I am just a regular nurse here. I came to ask a question yesterday, you said no, and I left.” “What does your missing baby have to do with me?” A younger nurse patted her on the back. “Fiona has been in the breakroom this entire shift. We can all vouch for her.” Another nurse glared at me. “You can not just throw baseless accusations around, Mr. Davis.” The crowd in the hallway started up again. “Oh, look at that. He can not find his kid, so he assaults a nurse.” “What did that poor woman do to deserve that?” “Rich people are all the same. The second something goes wrong, they find a scapegoat.” 4 Evelyn walked out of our hospital room. She leaned heavily against the doorframe, her face pale as a sheet of paper, her eyes swollen shut. “Nolan.” I turned to look at her. She slowly dragged herself toward me, swaying with every step. “Please stop.” “Evelyn…” “Nolan, you need to calm down.” Fiona stood behind the nurses’ station, clutching her chest as tears streamed down her face. “Mr. Davis, I know you are desperate…” “But you can not do this to me.” “I have only been working at this hospital for six months. I am just an employee. Why would I ever steal a baby?” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking violently. The hallway went completely silent. Then, someone pulled out a phone and started recording. “Look at this rich guy bullying a young nurse in public.” “Loses his own kid and starts acting like a rabid dog.” “Absolutely disgusting.” Evelyn’s grip on my arm suddenly tightened. Her entire body swayed, and her knees buckled. I shot my arms out and caught her before she hit the floor. She leaned against my chest, burying her face into my shirt. “Nolan…” “Let’s go back to the room.” I scooped her up in my arms and carried her back. The venomous whispers followed us the whole way. “What kind of person does that?” “Can not even protect his own child, so he blames the staff.” “If I were his wife, I would have left him.” Evelyn flinched in my arms. I held her tighter, refusing to look back. Her shoulders were trembling. She wasn’t making a sound. Even with the heavy hospital door shut, the muffled gossip from the corridor seeped through the cracks. I held her hand tightly. She did not squeeze back. “Evelyn.” No answer. “Trust me.” Her shoulders twitched. “I will find him.” The police tore through all three floors of the maternity ward and found absolutely nothing. The tech department was working on the security hard drives, trying to recover the corrupted data. Evelyn had been given a mild sedative. she had finally fallen asleep, tears still clinging to her eyelashes. I squatted alone in the hallway, smoking a cigarette. The third floor, the fourth floor, the fifth floor. Every conceivable hiding spot had been turned inside out. Storage closets, breakrooms, operating theaters. They even opened the toilet tanks. Nothing. A three-day-old infant had simply evaporated. I stared blankly at the cigarette butt on the floor. It was not until a drop of sweat rolled down my neck and stung my eye that I finally noticed something completely wrong. The heat. The fifth floor was boiling. This was the VIP ward. The central air was strictly maintained at seventy-two degrees year-round. But right now, it felt closer to eighty. The air was thick and suffocating. I stood up and walked down the length of the corridor. Every single ventilation grate was pushing out air, but the airflow was incredibly weak. There was almost no chill to it. It was not like this last night. When I was changing my son’s diaper hours ago, the room was so cold I had to put an extra blanket over Evelyn. Something was deeply wrong. I sprinted to the stairwell and ran down to the third floor. The moment I pushed the fire doors open, a blast of freezing AC hit my face. The central air on the third floor was working perfectly. It was freezing cold. I checked the fourth floor. Same thing. Icy. Only the fifth floor felt like a sauna. I called the hospital’s engineering department. “Who manages the HVAC for the fifth floor?” The guy on the phone hesitated. “Mr. Davis, we do not handle that floor. The VIP section has a standalone HVAC system. Gary from maintenance holds the master keys.” “Give me Gary’s number.” I called him three times. It went straight to voicemail. The sickening knot of anxiety in my gut pulled tighter. I found the maintenance room. It was locked. I kicked the door, but it held firm. I turned to a passing janitor. “Where is Gary? Is he working today?” The older woman thought for a second. “I think he got here super early. I saw him pushing his tool cart toward the East Wing, but I have not seen him since.” The East Wing. The eastern edge of the fifth floor was a row of abandoned storage closets. When I rented out the VIP suite, I had checked the floor plans. The room at the very end of the hall was practically pressed against the main AC turbines. The noise was so bad they had stopped using it years ago. It did not belong to any specific medical department. And the hallway cameras did not cover that deep into the corner. It was the only blind spot on the entire floor. I sprinted toward that abandoned storage room. There was a heavy brass padlock on the door. It looked brand new, completely out of place on the rusted door handle. I hammered it with my fist three times, but it did not budge. I grabbed a heavy metal fire extinguisher from the wall box, swung it over my head, and brought it down on the lock with everything I had. The brass shattered, and the heavy door groaned open. The room was completely empty. Nothing but a few boxes of expired surgical gauze and an overwhelming smell of dust. Nothing. I stood in the center of the room, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth ground together. This made no sense. If there was nothing in here, why was there a brand-new lock on the door? Why secure an empty room in a camera blind spot? I tilted my head and looked at the ceiling. The heavy metal screws on the ventilation grate were stripped and shiny. Someone had just unscrewed them. I dragged an old desk over, climbed on top, and twisted the loose screws off with my bare hands. The shaft was pitch black. A rush of stale, stiflingly warm air blew into my face. I pulled out my phone, turned on the flashlight, and shoved my head and shoulders up into the duct. The metal tunnel stretched inward for a few yards before taking a sharp turn. From deep inside the metal darkness, I heard a sound. It was incredibly faint. Like a stray kitten. Or like a baby who had cried until his vocal cords were completely shredded. My scalp exploded with pure terror. “Son!” The tiny noise in the duct stopped for a fraction of a second, and then escalated into a desperate, heartbreaking wail.

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We had finally found two young girls who could potentially be our long-lost daughter. One of them looked remarkably like me, possessing my exact eyes and nose. Yet, when the DNA test results came back, they declared that the other girl was my biological child. As I stood there, utterly paralyzed by confusion, a strange, glowing feed of scrolling text comments suddenly materialized in front of my eyes: [Oh my god, the male lead is so romantic! To protect the female lead from suffering, he regressed and swapped her blood sample with the supporting girl’s. Now the female lead gets to be his pampered “little sister.” I am absolutely living for this!] [It’s a little unfair to the real daughter, though. She was so close to finally being reunited with her real parents.] [Who cares? The vicious supporting girl spent her entire past life targeting the female lead and did everything she could to keep the main couple apart. She deserves this.] My ten-year-old son, Lucas, pointed a finger at the little girl who shared my features, his face twisted in disgust. “Mom, since she isn’t my sister, throw her back to St. Jude’s immediately. I hate her!” Beside him, my husband, Richard, nodded in agreement. “He has a point. We should send her back as soon as possible.” 1 The moment my son, Lucas, gestured for the security guard to drag our biological daughter away, I raised my voice. “Wait!” Richard, my husband, looked at me with a frown of confusion. “Eleanor, what’s wrong?” I lifted the crisp paper of the DNA report in my hand. “Are you absolutely certain there are no mistakes in this document?” Richard nodded without a second of hesitation. “Of course, sweetheart. I had Assistant Davis personally guard the lab. He brought the results straight to me the second they were printed. No one else even laid a finger on the files.” I slowly shifted my gaze, locking onto Lucas, my ten-year-old son. “And the blood samples?” Lucas kept his expression perfectly calm, but I caught the briefest, guilt-ridden flicker of panic in his eyes before he looked away. Richard let out a soft laugh, completely oblivious. “Dr. Collins drew the blood himself, didn’t he? There is no room for error. Eleanor, I know you think Lily looks like you, but a resemblance doesn’t automatically mean a blood relation.” “Sometimes, two completely unrelated strangers can look identical. Science doesn’t lie, sweetheart. We have to trust the test.” Standing beside him, the little girl the report claimed was our daughter, Fiona, looked up at me. Her eyes were wide, swimming with tears as she whimpered, “Does Mommy not like me?” I looked down at Fiona, an instinctive knot of disgust tightening in my chest. I couldn’t explain it, but her innocent, wide-eyed look felt deeply calculated, harboring a malice that didn’t belong to a child her age. It was this gut feeling that made the test results feel so utterly repulsive and wrong. Seeing Fiona on the verge of tears, Richard immediately knelt down to comfort her. “Fiona, sweetheart, Mommy doesn’t dislike you. She is just adjusting. Give her some time.” Fiona nodded meekly, her lower lip trembling. “Fiona will be a good girl. I’ll make Mommy love me.” Richard’s heart melted, and he scooped her into his arms. “You are such a sweet girl.” Fiona buried her face in Richard’s shoulder, pretending to cry, but a strange, glowing chat feed suddenly materialized in front of my eyes, scrolling with floating comments: Wait, is the female lead acting too? Did she regress as well? Looks like she did! Double regression! This is getting good, haha! A cold sneer formed in my mind. She knew she wasn’t my daughter, yet she was actively pretending to be. What a rotten, deceptive child. No wonder my maternal instincts recoiled from her. Lucas pointed a finger at the other little girl, the one who possessed my exact eyes and nose, and spoke with pure disgust. “Mom, I told you I hate her. Can we please throw her back to the children’s home already?” Suppressing the urge to slap my own son, I ignored him and knelt in front of the quiet, trembling girl. “Lily, would you like to come with me?” The anxious little girl looked at me with wide, cautious eyes before nodding softly. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” She clearly thought I was driving her back to the orphanage. I didn’t correct her just yet. I took her small, cold hand in mine and led her out toward the garage. 2 Once we were safely inside the car, I turned down the radio and looked at her. “Lily, would you be willing to do another DNA test with me?” Lily blinked, her voice barely a whisper. “Ma’am… aren’t you taking me back to St. Jude’s?” I shook my head, offering a gentle smile. “No. We’re going to a private clinic. We are doing another test.” I loved this little girl the moment I saw her. Even if the results came back negative, I had already decided I would never let her go back to that cold children’s home. Lily didn’t quite understand, but she nodded trustingly. The floating chat in my vision flashed again: Oh my god! The male lead’s mom is doing another test? Is his plan going to fail? Why is his mom so annoying? She hated the female lead in her past life too. Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law are natural enemies! I have always been a highly rational woman. If I despised Fiona, it wasn’t because of some cosmic mother-in-law rivalry. It was simply because Fiona was a wretched, deceptive creature. An hour later, I had Lily at an independent, highly secure diagnostic center, requesting an expedited test. I didn’t trust a single soul in my household anymore. To prevent anyone from tampering with the vials, I sat in the waiting room with Lily, refusing to leave until the paper was in my hand. Two hours in, Richard called my phone. “Eleanor, when are you coming home? Fiona is waiting for you so we can have dinner.” “I have some business to take care of,” I replied, my voice flat. “Eat without me.” Richard let out a disappointed sigh. “Alright, but don’t stay out too late. Fiona misses you.” I hung up and looked at Lily, who was watching me with a worried expression. “Ma’am… the first test couldn’t have been wrong.” “Our resemblance is probably just a coincidence. You shouldn’t waste your time and money on me.” I reached out and gently ruffled her soft hair. “We’ll know the truth soon enough. I ordered some takeout. Let’s eat first.” Lily nodded obediently. After another three hours of agonizing waiting, the technician finally stepped out with the sealed envelope. There was no surprise. The biological probability of maternity was 99.99 percent. Lily was my daughter. I pulled my little girl into my arms, my tears flowing freely as I squeezed her tight. Lily froze in shock, her small arms hanging by her sides before she slowly wrapped them around my neck, whispering a single, tentative word. “Mommy…” “I’m here, baby,” I choked out through my sobs. “Mommy finally found you.” The glowing comments in my vision updated rapidly: This isn’t how the plot was supposed to go. Lucas’s plan completely failed. It’s fine. Even if his mom doesn’t accept the female lead, Lucas is a regressor. He won’t just let his beloved Fiona suffer in an orphanage. But Lucas is only ten right now. He doesn’t have the power to challenge his mother. Don’t worry. He’s a regressed male lead. He’s not weak. He will eliminate all obstacles in his path, including his own mother and biological sister! I let out a silent, icy laugh. I wanted to see exactly how my own flesh and blood planned to “eliminate” his mother and sister for the sake of an outsider. 3 Both Richard and I were incredibly busy running our respective companies. When Lily was only three months old, a group of human traffickers had snatched her right out of her nanny’s arms during a walk in the park. They had sold her to a wealthy, infertile couple, but the moment that couple miraculously conceived their own child, they abandoned Lily on the streets. For seven long years, we had searched every corner of the country. It was only two weeks ago that we finally traced her file to St. Jude’s Home. Once my emotions settled, I took Lily’s hand and drove back to our estate. The moment we walked through the front door, the atmosphere in the living room turned frigid. Richard, Lucas, and Fiona stared at us with deep disapproval. Fiona’s eyes immediately welled with tears, looking as if I had personally insulted her. Lucas’s face contorted with rage, and he pointed a finger at Lily, shouting, “Mom! Why did you bring that garbage back here? You were supposed to drop her off at the orphanage!” Richard stood up, looking at me with a patronizing sigh. “Eleanor, I know you have a soft spot for Lily because she looks like you. But the test was clear. Fiona is our flesh and blood.” “You can’t let your stubbornness hurt our real daughter’s feelings.” I didn’t spare Richard a glance. Instead, I stared directly into my son’s eyes, watching the dark hatred swirling in his gaze. “Lily is my daughter. She is your biological sister. Why shouldn’t I bring her home?” A flash of sheer panic crossed Lucas’s face, but he quickly masked it with indignation. “You’ve lost your mind, Mom! She isn’t my sister! Fiona is!” I let out a slow, mocking laugh. “Is that so?” Lucas’s confidence began to crumble, his voice shaking slightly. “Of course it’s true.” Richard looked back and forth between us, utterly confused. “Eleanor, what is going to go on here?” I pulled the fresh DNA report from my bag and slammed it against Richard’s chest. “See for yourself!” Lucas gasped, his voice cracking. “You did another test?!” Fiona’s face went pale, and she instinctively shrank behind Lucas’s shoulder. Richard opened the envelope with trembling hands, his eyes scanning the document. “This… how is this possible?” “How?” I sneered. “Why don’t you ask your brilliant son?” Richard turned a furious gaze toward Lucas. “Lucas! What did you do?” Realizing his scheme had been exposed, Lucas dropped all pretense of innocence, glaring at Lily with pure malice. “I swapped the blood samples! I hate her! I don’t want a pathetic loser like her to be my sister!” Lily shrank back in terror at his outburst. I immediately wrapped my arms around her, pressing her head against my chest to shield her. Richard roared, “You little brat! Lily is your sister! Even if you like Fiona, how dare you tamper with a medical test?” Lucas didn’t show a single ounce of remorse. “I don’t care! I will never acknowledge her as my sister!” He grabbed Fiona’s hand and stormed up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door. Richard was shaking with rage. “That ungrateful little…” The floating comments scrolled by: Are they really going to send the female lead back to the orphanage now? Please, no! My poor baby Fiona shouldn’t have to suffer! Lucas won’t let her. Any suffering she faces will only be temporary. The male lead’s mother is so repulsive. I hope she and the vicious sister get written out of the script soon. 4 Richard felt incredibly guilty for nearly abandoning our real daughter. He held Lily in his arms, weeping as he apologized over and over. I was furious with his lack of oversight, but seeing his genuine remorse, I only scolded him a few times before letting it go. “It’s almost midnight. I’m going to put Lily to bed. Go handle Fiona.” If Fiona were a normal, innocent child, I wouldn’t have minded adopting her. But she possessed an adult soul and a corrupted heart. I could not allow a viper to sleep under my roof. Richard sighed, nodding. “Alright.” Once Lily fell asleep, I slipped out of her room and returned to our master bedroom. Richard was already waiting inside. He stood up immediately to help me off with my coat, looking deeply troubled. “Eleanor… Lucas is throwing a massive fit. He says if we send Fiona away, he’s going to run away from home.” “We have more than enough money. Why don’t we just adopt Fiona? It’s just one more mouth to feed…” I turned, my gaze freezing him in place. Richard’s posture slumped, and he let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. I’ll have the driver take her back to St. Jude’s tomorrow morning.” “But Lucas is going to make our lives a living hell.” “Let him,” I said coldly. “If he wants to pack his bags and move into the children’s home with her, I’ll gladly pay for his cab.” Today, he was willing to erase his own sister for an outsider. Tomorrow, he would be willing to destroy our entire family for her. The only thing keeping me from throwing him out of the house was the small shred of maternal instinct I had left. Richard wrapped his arms around me in a comforting hug. “He’s still young, Eleanor. He’s just acting on impulse. Once we sit him down and explain things, he’ll realize he was wrong.” I remained silent. Lucas wasn’t a normal ten-year-old child. And even if he were, some souls are born rotten, beyond any saving. 5 The next morning, Richard arranged for Fiona to be sent back to St. Jude’s. I expected Lucas to scream and thrash, but he remained eerily quiet. He sat at the breakfast table, staring at the floor, a dark, venomous hatred brewing in his eyes. I knew he resented both me and Lily. It was painful to see my own son look at me that way, but I had already made peace with the fact that I might have to treat him as a stranger. Because of our demanding careers, Richard and I couldn’t be with Lily every second of the day. I hired two highly qualified private nannies, giving them strict instructions never to let Lily out of their sight. Although Lucas ignored Lily entirely, he didn’t attempt to physically harm her. I could see that Lily desperately wanted a relationship with her older brother. She would watch him from a distance, or run to help him whenever he dropped something, only to scurry away the moment he glared at her. Lucas’s initial hostility seemed to soften slightly over the next few weeks, no longer flinching away when she stood near him. Deep down, I wanted nothing more than a peaceful, happy family. Richard was equally thrilled to see the ice between the siblings starting to melt. Three months flew by. For the school’s summer festival, Richard and I cleared our schedules to spend the entire day with the kids. Lily wanted to visit the municipal aquarium, while Lucas insisted on going to an indoor rock-climbing gym. Knowing Lucas possessed an adult soul, I didn’t force him to join us at the aquarium. Richard took Lucas to the gym, while I took Lily to see the marine life. At seven in the evening, I brought a exhausted, happy Lily back to the estate. As we walked up the driveway, the sound of childish laughter drifted from the open living room windows. Puzzled, Lily pushed the front door open, holding a gift she had carefully picked out for Lucas. The scene inside made us both freeze in our tracks. Richard and Lucas were running around the couch, playing a lively game of tag with a girl who shouldn’t have been there… Fiona. Seeing us standing in the doorway, the laughter died down, and the three of them stopped playing. Richard offered a hesitant, nervous smile as he walked over to us. “Hey, sweetie. Did you have fun with Mommy today?” Lily clutched the gift bag tightly to her chest, nodding slowly. “Yes, Daddy.” “I’m glad.” Richard patted her head, then turned to look at me, his expression incredibly tense. “Eleanor, there’s something we need to talk about.” “A few days ago, I made a shocking discovery. Fiona’s late father was actually one of my closest friends from university.” “I can’t bear the thought of his only child growing up in a cold orphanage. I’ve decided to formally adopt Fiona.” The glowing comments began to scroll across my vision: The mother-in-law never saw this coming! Fiona’s biological mother was actually the university goddess of the male lead’s father! His tragic first love’s daughter! Unbeatable! And that’s not all… Fiona’s real father is actually incredibly powerful! She is the secret heiress of the elite Belmont family! Eleanor and Lily aren’t even worthy of wiping her shoes! Fiona is going to inherit everything. If Eleanor dares to cross her, she is dead! 6 I took a deep, steady breath, forcing down the white-hot rage that threatened to consume me. “Richard, I am going to give you two choices.” “One, you send Fiona back to the children’s home tonight and promise never to meddle in her life again.” “Two, we get a divorce.” The nervous, placating smile on Richard’s face vanished, replaced by a dark scowl. “It’s just one more child in this massive house! We have the money. Why must you be so incredibly hostile toward Fiona?” “Divorce it is,” I said, my voice dead calm. By choosing Fiona, he was choosing the memory of his tragic first love over his actual wife. I refused to tolerate a single speck of betrayal in my marriage. I took Lily’s hand and led her straight up the stairs to pack our bags. Half an hour later, I carried our suitcases down to the lobby, my daughter’s hand gripped firmly in mine. Lucas and Fiona watched us from the stairs, their eyes cold and indifferent. Richard blocked the exit, his face red with anger. “Eleanor, are you seriously doing this over a child?” “Do I look like I’m joking?” I replied, looking at him with utter disgust. “She is a sweet, innocent girl! What did she ever do to make you hate her this much?” My composure snapped, and a razor-sharp smile touched my lips. “If she weren’t the daughter of your beloved college goddess, would you still be standing here fighting me to adopt her?” Richard froze, staring at me in utter shock and panic. Before he could stammer out a lie, I pushed past him, walking out into the cool night air with Lily. This is perfect! The main characters have finally cut ties with these two toxic women! But wait… if they actually divorce, Eleanor’s pre-marital company is incredibly successful. Richard doesn’t own a single share. She’s going to walk away with a massive fortune. It doesn’t matter. Her little company is nothing compared to the Belmont Group. Once Fiona is welcomed back into the Belmont family, she can crush Eleanor’s business in a matter of seconds! The Belmonts? They were indeed one of the most powerful, elite families in the country. But Mrs. Catherine Belmont had a young son, Oliver, who was the sole, undisputed heir to their fortune. How could a secret, illegitimate daughter like Fiona ever inherit the Belmont empire? Unless… the young heir, Oliver, suffered some kind of fatal accident. I needed to find out exactly what this “accident” was, and when it was supposed to happen.

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1 After a severe car crash three years ago, Tristan developed a bizarre condition. Every seven days, his memory would reset, wiping away every trace of his past. For three long years, I exhausted every resource, spent every penny, and begged every specialist to help him recover. But then, my best friend Brooke and I were involved in another terrible car accident. We were rushed to the same emergency room, side by side. As I lay semi-conscious on a cold, metal gurney, my vision blurred by blood, I heard Tristan’s voice. He was speaking to the attending trauma surgeon, smoothly and flawlessly reciting every single detail of Brooke’s medical history, from her blood type to her childhood allergies. Brooke, gasping for air from the gurney next to mine, stared up at him in shock. “Tristan… w-weren’t you supposed to have amnesia?” Tristan didn’t even look up from holding her hand. “I just faked it to keep Hazel quiet. Every time some stupid anniversary came up, she demanded some grand romantic gesture. It was exhausting.” The ambient noise of the emergency room seemed to vanish, leaving a ringing silence. I let out a weak, pathetic chuckle. A nurse finally noticed me lying right beside Brooke, my clothes soaked in far more blood, my breathing ragged. She tapped Tristan on the shoulder. “Sir, what about this patient? Do you know her?” Tristan cast a brief, indifferent glance at my mangled body. “No. I don’t know her.” I closed my eyes, and a single, hot tear sliced through the grime and blood on my cheek. If that was how he wanted it, then we would never know each other again. … I was wheeled rapidly into the trauma bay. The nurse gripped my hand, her voice urgent. “Sweetie, we need to take you into surgery immediately. Is there anyone here who can sign the consent form for you?” I looked past her shoulder toward the corridor. Tristan was standing there. He quickly averted his eyes when our gazes met, but I saw him take two hesitant steps toward the double doors. He didn’t make it any further. Brooke let out a sharp cry of pain, grabbing his arm, and he instantly turned back to comfort her. Suppressing the white-hot agony radiating through my body, I reached up and clutched the nurse’s scrubs. “I don’t have any family here. I’ll sign it myself.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flash of shock on Tristan’s face. What a sad, pitiful display. He was the one who had abandoned me, so why play the part of a worried spectator now? Did he want to make me believe, even for a second, that he actually cared? My hand was slick with my own blood, making the pen slip repeatedly against the paper. In the end, the nurse had to steady my wrist so I could scribble my name. The surgery was a success. When I finally opened my eyes in the sterile recovery room, the space was entirely empty. I reached for my phone on the bedside table and sent a text to my father. “I give up, Dad. Please come take me home.” My father replied almost instantly. “Remember our agreement.” I instinctively placed a hand over my lower abdomen. There was a tiny, fragile life growing inside me. But the moment I had discovered its existence, I knew I had to let it go. The door clicked open, and the doctor walked in, catching the gentle way I was holding my stomach. She offered a warm, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, the baby is incredibly resilient. The heartbeat is strong.” I didn’t say anything. My eyes were fixed on the notification that had just popped up on my phone. It was an Instagram post from Brooke. “Some men will cancel their most important board meetings just to make sure you get discharged safely.” The photo showed Brooke cradling a massive bouquet of red roses, with Tristan standing close behind her, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. After a long moment of silence, I looked up at the doctor. “Could you please schedule a termination for me?” The doctor froze, her smile faltering. “You just survived a massive car crash, and your baby survived with you. Are you absolutely sure about this?” I looked back at the screen, at the two of them looking like a perfect couple. “Yes. I’m sure.” There was no room for me in Tristan’s life anymore. I refused to humiliate myself any longer. When I refreshed my feed, the post was gone. Brooke had blocked me from seeing her updates. I let out a quiet, empty laugh, a dull numbness spreading from my chest down to my fingertips. It was late afternoon when Tristan finally walked into my room. He sat on the edge of my bed, reaching out to clasp my hand. His eyes were filled with the exact same tender warmth that had kept me captive for years. “I checked my journal when I got home last night, Hazel. I remember now. You’re the love of my life.” I still remembered the first time he had said those words to me. He had held me so tight I could barely breathe, weeping into my shoulder. “Why do I have to have this terrible disease? Why does my mind keep erasing the most important person in the world?” Back then, I had gently stroked his hair, whispering comfort. “It’s okay, Tristan. Every time you forget me, I’ll just hold your hand and lead you back down our path.” Now, looking at him, I realized how incredibly foolish I must have looked. He must have been laughing at how easily I swallowed his pathetic excuses. I pulled my hand out of his grip and asked in a quiet voice, “Who are you?” Tristan went rigid. He stood up abruptly, his voice rising. “What kind of nonsense is that? I’m your boyfriend, Hazel!” Then, as if realizing he was being too harsh, he sat back down, softening his tone. “Are you still angry because I said I didn’t know you in the ER? You know about my condition. Sometimes my mind just scrambles things.” I knew. It was because I knew, and because I had trusted him blindly, that I had let him play me like a fool for three years. Remembering my father’s words, I forced a small, compliant smile. “I was just teasing. When did the doctor say I could leave?” “Tomorrow morning,” he said. I did the math in my head. That would give me more than enough time to pack my life away. In three days, Tristan, I will disappear from your life forever. On the day of my discharge, Brooke and Tristan arrived together. The air between them was thick with an intimacy that left no room for anyone else, least of all me. The pain in my chest felt like a physical blade twisting in my ribs. I pressed a hand over my heart, trying to breathe. Brooke sat beside me, looking at my pale face with faux concern. “Hazel, you still look so weak. Maybe you should stay another night? You can always check out this afternoon instead.” I looked over at Tristan. He knew today was a special day. He knew I had personally designed a custom cake and ordered it to celebrate my recovery. Tristan avoided my gaze, gently grabbing Brooke’s elbow and pulling her out into the hallway. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my abdomen, I dragged myself out of bed and crept to the door, listening to their hushed voices. “Why are you rushing her to leave this afternoon?” Tristan asked. Brooke let out a playful, sweet whine. “I told you yesterday, Tristan! The appointment at the courthouse is today. They are waiting to issue our marriage license!” I froze, the breath catching in my throat. The marriage registry? Even now, I had tried to convince myself that their closeness was just some sick joke. We had been together for three years. How could he marry my only best friend? How could they betray me like this? Tristan let out a long sigh. “There’s no need to rush. She hasn’t fully recovered yet.” I couldn’t bear to hear another word. My legs trembling violently, I dragged myself back to the bed and buried my face in the pillow, my tears quickly soaking the fabric. When the heart breaks completely, it doesn’t scream. It just goes numb. I heard the door open, and Tristan’s voice drifted over me. “Brooke has a point, Hazel. You should rest a bit longer. I’ll come back to get you this afternoon.” “I asked the house keeper to bring you some lunch. I don’t want you eating hospital food.” Then, the sound of the door clicking shut. I pressed the call button, summoning the nurse. “I want to proceed with the termination. Right now.” The doctor arrived shortly after, looking concerned. “In your current physical state…” “I will take full responsibility for any complications,” I interrupted, my voice dead. My heart was completely cold. As I lay on the operating table for the second time in a week, tears poured silently down my temples. I felt the physical sensation of a life leaving my body. This was the child I had dreamed of having. I used to think that once we had a baby, Tristan would finally have no excuse not to marry me. Every time I had brought up marriage in the past, he would look at me with sorrowful eyes. “I’m terrified my condition will become a burden to you, Hazel. Let’s just love each other like this forever, okay?” “I can sign over all my assets to you. In private, you will always be my wife.” At the time, I thought it was the ultimate act of devotion, a man willing to give me everything he owned. But their conversation in the hallway was a brutal slap to my face. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get married. He just didn’t want to marry me. After the procedure, the nurse showed me the tiny, undeveloped sac. It was only two months old. But the phantom pain in my womb was excruciating. I had made the choice to deny this child a chance to see the world, all because of his father’s sins. Back in my room, I pulled up Brooke’s Instagram page. “From this day forward, he is my husband.” The post featured a photo of two marriage certificates resting on a velvet ring box. By the time Tristan finally returned to the hospital, the sun had long set. He looked flushed and sweaty, checking his watch. “I had some urgent business to take care of, Hazel. Sorry I’m late. Let’s go home.” I didn’t argue. I just nodded. I didn’t want to waste another breath on him. I couldn’t even tell which of his words were real and which were lies anymore. When we stepped into the apartment, Brooke was already sitting at our dining table. The custom cake I had designed sat in the center, half-demolished. She gave me a sweet, apologetic smile. “Hazel, I hope you’re not mad. I couldn’t help myself and took a slice.” Tristan let go of my hand, stepping toward her. “Of course she isn’t mad. You’re her best friend.” My best friend. The girl who had stood by me when we were teenagers. Back then, my parents only cared about my brother, and whenever I came home crying from being bullied at school, they told me to look at my own faults. It was Brooke who had fought them off for me. She had thrown her jacket over my head to shield me from the rain, laughing as she said, “From now on, we walk this path together.” A young girl’s loyalty is worth gold. She had walked with me for so long, only to lead me to the edge of a cliff. I slowly slid my engagement ring off my finger and set it on the table. “Actually, I am mad,” I said, my voice steady. “And Tristan, we’re done. Let’s break up.” Tristan froze, staring at the ring, then at me with utter disbelief. “A breakup? You’re ending our relationship over a piece of cake?” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Or is this just your excuse because you’re tired of taking care of a sick man?” I shook my head. “Neither. I’m twenty-eight years old, Tristan. It’s time for me to find someone who actually wants to marry me.” Tristan’s calm facade shattered. His eyes flushed red, and he roared at me, “You’re going to throw away years of history over this?” “What does our time together even mean to you? I don’t accept this breakup!” He grabbed Brooke’s hand, pulling her toward the front door. “Everyone in Boston knows you belong to me. Who else would even dare touch you? Stay here and clear your head.” The heavy mahogany door slammed shut, the sound vibrating in my chest. I didn’t need to look at my phone to know Brooke had already posted about it. A sharp, pulling pain flared in my lower abdomen, a brutal reminder of the choice I had made. There was no going back. I went upstairs, pulled out my two suitcases, and began packing my clothes. Every shirt, every book brought back a memory of the beautiful lie we had lived. When I was finally done, I realized just how much of Brooke’s stuff was scattered throughout my home. I hauled my suitcases down to the lobby and walked out of the complex. But before I could reach the street, a group of men blocked my path. They wore dark masks, and the stench of cheap alcohol and cigarettes made me stumble back. Before I could scream, they grabbed my wrists, dragging me toward an unmarked van. I bit down on one man’s hand with everything I had. He swore, releasing his grip, and I bolted back toward the gates, my hands shaking violently as I dialed Tristan’s number. The call connected, and I could hear the loud, thumping bass of a party in the background. I screamed into the receiver. “Tristan! Call the police! Someone is trying to kidnap me!” There was a long, terrible silence on the other end. “Hazel, if you want to make amends, do it properly. Don’t invent cheap lies to get my attention.” “Clearly, you still haven’t reflected on your behavior.” The line went dead. I dialed again and again, my fingers slick with cold sweat. No one answered. On the fourth try, the call went straight to voicemail. He had blocked me. The men caught up to me. No matter how hard I kicked and screamed, I was tossed into the back of the van, and a dark cloth was pulled over my head. When I finally regained consciousness, the air was freezing, thick with the heavy, salty smell of the ocean. Nearby, I could hear Brooke’s hysterical sobbing. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I screamed into the darkness, “What do you want? Money? My father will pay you whatever you want! Just let us go!” The cold metal of a blade slid down my cheek. A man’s gravelly voice whispered near my ear. “I don’t want money, sweetie. I just want to see who Tristan chooses when his back is against the wall.” A cold dread settled in my stomach. A few minutes later, the heavy metal doors of the warehouse creaked open, and Tristan’s frantic voice cut through the damp air. “Let them go!” “Well, look who finally showed up,” the gravelly voice mocked. “A few more minutes, and I was going to throw them both to the sharks.” I let out a shaky breath. “Tristan! I’m here!” I heard the sound of rushing footsteps, then a sudden, deafening gunshot that made the warehouse ring. “Who told you to move!” the kidnapper barked. The blindfold was ripped from my eyes. Tears flooded my vision, and I looked at Tristan, silently begging him to save me. Tristan took a deep breath, his hands trembling. “What is it going to take to let them go?” The kidnapper smirked, playing with his knife. “Simple. You choose one to take home, and the other one gets thrown into the harbor.” My entire body went numb. I stared at Tristan, seeing the calculations running behind his eyes. “Tristan, please…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I choose her,” Tristan said, pointing directly at Brooke without a single second of hesitation. Brooke gasped, her voice trembling with false nobility. “Tristan… but what about Hazel?” “Hazel will be fine,” Tristan said quickly, his voice tight. “Her family is incredibly powerful. These guys wouldn’t dare touch her.” The moment those words left his mouth, Tristan froze. He had forgotten. A year ago, he had claimed his amnesia had wiped out all memory of my family’s wealthy background. Whenever I had asked him to accompany me to my family’s estate, he had told me to go alone, claiming he had no idea who my parents even were. “Hazel… I…” He stammered, his face turning a sickly shade of gray, but he couldn’t find a single lie to save himself. The kidnapper sliced Brooke’s ropes, pushing her rough-shod into Tristan’s waiting arms. “You’ve made your choice. Now get out of here!” Tristan looked down at Brooke clinging to his chest, then looked back at me, his eyes pleading. “Hazel… don’t worry. As soon as I get Brooke to a safe place, I’ll come back for you.” “Please, believe me…” I watched their retreating figures as they hurried toward the exit, a bitter, hollow smile forming on my lips. Tristan, you lied to me for three consecutive years. How could I ever believe you again? Their figures dissolved into the shadows, leaving me alone in the dark.

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1 When I divorced, I walked away with absolutely nothing just to secure sole custody of my daughter. To give her a decent life, I worked myself to the bone. I never imagined she would turn on me for a deadbeat. Even less did I expect her to conspire with him to paralyze me, strip me of my wealth, and eventually kill me. But now, granted a second chance at life, I decided to give her the exact freedom she begged for. … “Just because your own marriage was a failure, you want to ruin mine too?” I opened my eyes to the sight of my daughter, Amber, violently smashing my favorite clay teapot onto the hardwood floor. Her eyes were bloodshot, staring at me with a pure, unadulterated venom that made her look more like a mortal enemy than my child. A sharp fragment of the clay sliced across my shin, leaving a thin crimson trail. I stared at the bleeding cut, utterly dazed. How was this possible? Just a second ago, I was in a hospice room, watching this love-blind girl rip the oxygen tube from my face. How was I suddenly back in my own living room? Seeing my silence, Amber’s rage only intensified. Vicious words poured from her mouth. “No wonder Dad left you! You deserved it! You deserve to grow old and die alone! Nobody could ever love a monster like you!” Just as in my memory, she grabbed a glass mug from the coffee table and hurled it down. The shattering sound was incredibly sharp and real. I had actually traveled back in time. Perhaps even the heavens thought my previous death was too pathetic, granting me a chance to rewrite my fate. This time, I would not walk down the same path of self-destruction. I looked up at Amber, the child I carried for nine months and cherished above my own life. Years ago, when her father cheated on me, I sacrificed every penny of our marital assets just to keep her. In return, she plotted with a parasite to ruin me, ultimately pushing me into an early grave. The sheer coldness of it shivered through my bones. In this timeline, I had locked her inside the house to stop her from moving in with Jared. That was why she was throwing this tantrum. In my past life, I had refused to let her go. She had grabbed a wooden chair, struck me over the head until I blacked out, and fled. If the neighbors hadn’t found me in time, I would have bled out right there. This time, I was going to hand her the freedom she craved. I pinched the bridge of my nose and said coldly, “Quiet, Amber. Let me ask you one last time. Are you absolutely determined to be with Jared? Even knowing he is a lazy fraud, a parasite who only wants you for your family money, you still want him?” She shrieked in response. “He is not like that! You are just a bitter, hateful woman who projects her own misery onto everyone else! I am going to be with him! If you try to stop me, I’ll end my life right in front of you!” In my previous life, that threat had terrified me. I had begged her, pleaded with her to see the truth, but she only spat in my face. “Fine. This is the absolute end of the line, Amber. If you walk out that door with him, you are willing to cut all ties with me?” A spark of excitement flashed in her eyes, almost disturbingly bright. “Yes! I don’t want a suffocating, controlling mother anyway! Let me go, and whatever happens to me from now on has absolutely nothing to do with you!” My heart had already died in my previous life. Hearing these words again brought nothing but a numb silence. “Very well. Go. From this day forward, you are no longer my daughter. I believe you already drafted the termination of parental rights agreement? Hand it over. I’ll sign it right now.” In my past life, after spending two days in the hospital, I had returned to find a blood-stained agreement lying on the floor where I had collapsed, already signed by Amber. Hearing my words, Amber snatched the document from her bag and shoved it into my hands. “Sign it! Hurry up!” It was a standard dual-copy agreement. I signed my name without a single second of hesitation. “Go on then. Chase your happily ever after. You got what you wanted, Amber. You no longer have a mother.” “As if I care. I still have my dad.” 2 After she slammed the door, I sat on the couch for a long time, slowly digesting the reality of my rebirth. Over the next few days, I put the house on the market. Since it was in a prime neighborhood, it sold quickly at a fair price. I moved into a smaller apartment close to my company. I had originally bought that apartment as a graduation gift for Amber, intending to hand it over to her along with a share of the company stock once she finished college. She still had six months until graduation, but she had officially forfeited her right to any of it. Three months later, the security guard from my old building called me. He said Amber was throwing a massive tantrum at the front gate, screaming that it was her home and demanding that I come down to explain myself. I told the guard simply, “I do not have a daughter.” A video of Amber’s scene was posted online. She looked thinner than when she left, and her long hair had been chopped into a messy bob. Seeing her like that dragged up memories from my past life. Around this exact time in my previous life, she had run back to me wearing those same clothes, sporting that same hairstyle. She had thrown herself onto my couch, sobbing that Jared was mistreating her. “He refuses to work! He pawned my designer bags and clothes! He even hit me and forbade me from calling you! I had to sneak out! Mom, I was so wrong! I promise I’ll listen to you from now on!” My heart had broken for her. I had held her close, cried with her, and immediately wired her fifteen thousand dollars to buy new clothes and get back on her feet. But the moment the money hit her account, she vanished again. I had panicked, thinking she had been kidnapped. I searched the entire city, calling her repeatedly, nearly dialing the police. Then a colleague called to say they spotted Amber at a high-end club. I drove through a torrential downpour to find her, only to open a private booth door and see her wrapped around Jared, kissing him passionately on a velvet sofa. Furious, I slapped Jared across the face and tried to drag Amber out, warning him to stay away from her. But Amber, seeing me strike her precious boyfriend, spun around and lunged at me. Her nails tore across my cheek, leaving three deep, bleeding gashes. She shoved me away and threw herself back into Jared’s arms, caressing his cheek with tearful eyes. “Jared, baby, are you okay? She is insane, just a crazy woman. Ignore her.” My blood had run cold. I had spent twenty-four hours without sleep searching for her, only to be branded a lunatic and physically assaulted by my own child for the sake of a deadbeat. Jared had smirked at me then, his eyes dripping with calculated malice. Yet, fool that I was, I still worried about her future. I practically begged her, “Amber, please come home with me. I only want what is best for you. This man will destroy you.” But she behaved as if she were under a spell, clinging to his neck and screaming at me. “You are so annoying! Get lost! Are you just jealous because I’m happy?” Dizzy with shock, I had stumbled back, barely keeping my footing. Jared had pulled her close, offering me a greasy smile. “Ma’am, Amber and I are deeply in love. Just let us be happy.” Unable to tear them apart, I had capitulated. Hoping Jared would at least treat her decently if he had a career, I gave him a job at my firm. Despite his lack of qualifications, I paid him a generous salary, hoping he would learn the ropes and eventually help Amber run the business. I had grossly underestimated the depth of human greed. In the video from the security guard, Amber was desperately trying to force her old key into the lock of my former home, sobbing at the top of her lungs. “Mom! Mom, open the door! It’s Amber! How could you change the locks? Have you abandoned me?” A neighbor passing by spoke up. “Amber, your mother sold this place weeks ago. Didn’t you know?” Amber shrieked, “Impossible! This is my house! She has no right to sell it!” I let out a cold laugh. Her house? I had worked eighteen-hour days, drank myself to stomach ulcers during client dinners, and collapsed in my office multiple times to afford that home. It had absolutely nothing to do with her. It was my property, and I could sell it whenever I pleased. Because she refused to leave, the new owner eventually called the police, and she was forced to slink away in embarrassment. I hired a private investigator to keep tabs on her. It turned out she went straight back to Jared. The investigator sent me a video clip, adding a brief note, “Ma’am, you raised a viper.” A viper indeed. If she had even a shred of decency, she wouldn’t be plotting with her boyfriend on how to bleed me dry. The video showed Amber returning to Jared’s dingy, single-room rental. It was a filthy space with a tiny bed and a peeling desk cluttered with greasy takeout boxes and empty beer cans. Amber kicked the side of the bed where Jared lay scrolling through his phone. “That old witch sold the house,” she muttered, clearly frustrated. “Her number is blocked too. Your plan isn’t working.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Jared’s face, quickly masked by greed. “Your mother is heartless. What kind of mother does that to her own child? That place was huge, it must have fetched millions.” Amber flopped onto the bed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Of course. It’s prime real estate. Easily three million.” The greed in Jared’s eyes became almost palpable. He wrapped his arm around her, his voice dripping with false warmth. “You poor little fool. Her money is supposed to be your money. Selling the place without your permission proves she doesn’t care about you at all. She probably has some guy on the side, maybe even had another kid. Amber, I’m the only one who actually looks out for you. You can’t let her walk all over you. That wealth belongs to you, you have to claim it.” “She’s just a bitter, menopausal old woman. No man would ever want her,” Amber scoffed. “My dad has the patience of a saint and even he couldn’t stand her. Her things are mine. When she dies, everything comes to me anyway.” Jared licked his lips, casually asking, “Your mom is only in her forties, right? By the time she dies, you’ll be an old lady yourself.” “Please,” Amber laughed. “She ruined her health giving birth to me, and then she practically drank her liver to death running that company. She won’t last long. Soon enough, her business, her money, her cars, they’ll all be ours.” She sighed with anticipation, as if visualizing a glorious future. “I honestly can’t wait for that day.” A chill crept down my spine. She had been wishing for my death all along. What a wonderful daughter I had raised. It was true that during my pregnancy, her father had been sleeping with my best friend. When I caught them, a physical altercation ensued, and he pushed me to the floor. The severe hemorrhaging nearly cost me my life. Though I survived to deliver Amber, my health was permanently damaged. To ensure my daughter grew up like a princess, I had worked myself to the bone, only to have her eagerly await my demise. I had still held a tiny sliver of hope in my heart, telling myself she was merely brainwashed by Jared. But no, she was inherently rotten. In the video, they began planning to corner me at my office. Their goal was simple: extort enough money to buy themselves a house. 3 The next morning, the receptionist called to inform me that Amber was downstairs making a scene. I had already instructed my staff that she was no longer associated with me, so no one was letting her up. I sent my assistant down to handle it, telling her to have security throw Amber out if she became too disruptive. Then, I quietly signed off on a charitable scholarship program. A few minutes later, my assistant rushed back into my office, pale and breathless. “Ma’am, Amber pulled out a pocket knife and slashed one of the guards across the arm. How should we proceed?” “Call the police,” I replied, my voice flat. “Do I really need to teach you how to handle a violent trespasser?” Startled by my coldness, the assistant didn’t ask further and immediately went to place the call. As the police escorted Amber out in handcuffs, she shrieked like a maniac. “I am Valerie’s daughter! This company is mine! Those guards are my employees! I can do whatever I want to them! Let go of me!” Fool. Because she was causing such a massive scene, I finally walked down to the lobby. She tried to lunge at me the moment she saw me, but the officers held her firmly. “Mom! Mom, save me! They’re trying to arrest me!” I looked at her as if she were a complete stranger. My gaze drifted to the plastic evidence bag containing the pocket knife. I remembered her conversation with Jared from the video. “I’ll bring a knife tomorrow. If she doesn’t give me the money, I’ll hold it to my throat and force her.” And Jared had fondly replied, “Smart girl.” “Mom, what are you standing there for? Tell them to let me go!” Amber demanded. I offered a polite, apologetic smile to the officers. “I am sorry for the trouble, officers. Please handle this strictly by the book. This girl signed an agreement severing our relationship weeks ago. Even if she were still my daughter, no one is above the law.” Amber panicked. When she panicked, she lost all filter, just like her father. “Valerie! You bitter old hag! You just hate seeing me happy! You’re trying to force me to crawl back to you! I would rather die than call you my mother! Even when you’re on your deathbed, I won’t come to see you!” Her venomous words no longer had any power over me. “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “You won’t have to.” Shortly after she was taken away, my private investigator sent a photograph. It showed Jared lurking in the shadows outside my building, recording a video of the arrest on his phone. I sneered. They were playing the exact same card as in my past life. Did they honestly think I would yield to public pressure this time? In my previous life, there had been no arrest, so there was no video. Instead, Amber had posted a fabricated sob story online along with a few carefully staged photos, accusing me of extreme maternal abuse. She had claimed that I controlled her entire life, from what she ate to what she wore, and that I denied her basic personal freedom even as an adult. She wrote that when she fell in love, I went into a psychotic rage, beat her, locked her in a room without food, and tried to force a breakup. She labeled me a monster, a lunatic, a woman unfit to be a mother. She declared that she hated me more than anyone on earth, and that she would have been infinitely happier living with her father. With a few pictures of self-inflicted bruises, she painted me as the ultimate villain. I couldn’t remember how viciously the internet had torn me apart back then. All I remembered was the crushing, suffocating pain in my chest when I read her words. I had genuinely believed she was being held hostage and coerced by Jared. So I had called her, begging to know if she was in danger. The moment the call connected, Jared snatched the phone. He told me that if I wanted my daughter back in one piece, I needed to wire him two million dollars. I hadn’t hesitated. As long as my daughter was safe, I would have given him everything. He warned me not to involve the police, threatening her life. Terrified for her safety, I kept transferring funds. Every time I heard her weeping on the phone, begging me to save her, my heart broke into a million pieces. Eventually, Jared demanded that I transfer the ownership of my company to his name before he would release her. I agreed, believing that as long as we were alive, we could always rebuild. I gathered the legal documents and went to meet Jared. Just as I was about to sign, I spotted Amber hiding behind a pillar. Blinded by maternal instinct, I hadn’t noticed how relaxed she looked. I ran to her, weeping, pulling her into my arms. “Amber, thank God you’re safe. Mommy is here.” She had shoved me away with a look of pure disgust. “You smell like sweat. Get away from me. Just sign the papers, we’re in a hurry.” I froze. “What?” Jared dropped his act, chuckling as he stepped forward. “Ma’am, Amber and I are getting married. You want her to be happy, don’t you? Sign the papers so we can go get our marriage license.” “Oh, and she’s pregnant,” he added. “If I don’t marry her, she’ll be a ruined woman.” I stared at Amber in utter disbelief. She patted her stomach, looking at me with immense impatience. “Just sign it. It’s all going to be mine eventually anyway. What’s the difference if you hand it over now?” I hadn’t signed. I took the papers and walked away, utterly shattered, her sharp, demanding voice ringing in my ears. My own daughter, cursing and blaming me for her own choices. It was a tragic joke. The morning after Amber’s arrest at my office, the familiar smear campaign made its debut online. The edited video of my cold response to the police went viral, accompanied by Amber’s sob story. She also posted photos of fresh cuts and bruises, claiming I had beaten her. I had never raised a hand against her. In reality, she was the one who had physically assaulted me several times for Jared’s sake. My investigator sent over another video. To make the photos look convincing, Jared had physically beaten Amber at her own request. This girl, pampered her entire life, had willingly let a man bruise her just to destroy her own mother. I began to wonder if there had been a mix-up at the hospital. How could a child of mine carry such deep, senseless malice? With my secret assistance behind the scenes, the scandal gained massive traction, topping the trending charts within three days. Amber and Jared even went on a local talk show, playing the role of tragic young lovers torn apart by an abusive, tyrannical matriarch. They wept on camera, begging for their freedom. “I couldn’t breathe in that house,” Amber sobbed to the interviewer. “She treated me like a possession, not a human being. I just want to escape her shadow and live my life with the man I love.” My office phone rang off the hook with angry callers. My well-trained staff remained calm, politely stating, “Please reserve your judgment. Valerie will address the matter publicly this afternoon.” Before the broadcast, I agreed to meet Amber and Jared one last time. I had unblocked her number specifically to receive this invitation. We met at the same quiet cafe from my previous life, choosing a secluded booth in the corner. The moment they arrived, they ordered nearly half the menu without a hint of courtesy. Amber didn’t even bother calling me Mom. “Valerie,” she said, leaning across the table. “I assume you’ve seen the news?” “I have,” I replied calmly. “And what is it you want?” “This scandal is tanking your company’s stock, isn’t it?” she sneered. “If you want us to take the videos down and clear your name, you do exactly what I say.” “Go on. I’m listening.” “First, wire ten million dollars to my account. Then, sign the company over to me. As for real estate, you can keep a small condo, but all your other properties must be transferred to my name.” Their greed had grown even larger than in my previous life. I looked at my own reflection in the darkened window, my eyes cold and dead. “And what else, Amber? What else do you want from me?” She turned to consult Jared. He nudged her, whispering urgently, “The cars! Demand the cars!” “And your cars,” Amber parroted. “All of them…” Jared interrupted, his voice hushed but demanding, “We agreed to split it down the middle! The cars go to you, but the house and the company go under my name!” I watched their frantic calculations, a silent sneer curling inside my chest. Amber hesitated for a moment, but Jared quickly smoothed it over, coaxing her. “We’re getting married anyway, baby. What’s mine is yours. Let’s just get the assets secured first.” Amber turned back to me. “The cars too. Don’t bother keeping them, you won’t be able to afford the maintenance anyway. I’m giving you twenty-four hours, Valerie. Have the paperwork ready by tomorrow, or things are going to get very ugly for you.” “Ugly? How so, Amber? Lest you forget, you forced me to sign a parental waiver. Your name has been legally removed from my household registry. In the eyes of the law, you are a stranger to me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Who cares about being your daughter? I just want the assets.” “If you aren’t my daughter, what right do you have to demand my life’s work? Why should I give you a single cent?” Her face contorted, her voice rising to a screech. “Because it belongs to me! You should have handed it over years ago! When you die, it’s all mine anyway! If you don’t want to be utterly ruined online, you’ll hand it over. Trust me, I can make your life a living hell.” She leaned in, a malicious grin stretching across her face. “You wouldn’t want me to leak the real reason you and Dad divorced, would you? I know all about your disgusting past, Valerie.” I stood up, looking down at her with absolute detachment. “Let’s get a DNA test, Amber. I truly doubt you’re my flesh and blood. How can anyone be this vile?” She scoffed, entirely unbothered. “You brought this on yourself by withholding what is rightfully mine. I can ruin you, and I will.” I nodded slowly. “Understood. From this moment on, any remaining shred of affection I held for you is gone. I have no daughter.” I turned and walked away. She screamed after me, “You booked this table! Pay the bill!” I kept walking. People like her didn’t deserve a single dime of my money. I stepped into my waiting car and instructed the driver to take me directly to the studio of the city’s most influential media outlet. My assistant and investigator were already there waiting. I was ready for my live interview.

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1 The family trip was meant to start today. Instead, I spent the morning doubled over, darting between the bedroom and bathroom. Mom stayed beside me the whole time, wiping my forehead and rubbing my back until the nausea finally passed. When we stepped out, the house was silent. Dad and Aunt Vivian were already gone. Mom stood frozen in the hallway, phone in hand, about to book a cab. Then a text from Dad appeared on her screen. You are a grown woman with a child. How can you not handle a simple stomach bug? Set a better example for Kate. The flight will not wait. Just stay home. A second message followed from Aunt Vivian. Mike and I have important clients to meet. It would not have been convenient having you two along anyway. Mom’s hand fell slowly to her side, her eyes dimming. Dad and Vivian had always been inseparable, both brilliant defense attorneys at a top firm. Mom never fit into their world, left behind to cook, clean, and manage the household. Whenever she voiced her hurt, Dad dismissed it with a laugh. She is your sister, Grace. Why be so jealous? Vivian is here so Kate can learn from her. Maybe our daughter will grow up smart like her aunt. My chest tightened. I tugged her sleeve, voice shaking. Mom, did I mess up again? Is that why they left us? No, sweetie, she said softly, kneeling to meet my eyes with a bright, forced smile. We left him behind. You have wanted to see the ocean, haven’t you? Let us go together, just the two of us. I wanted to jump for joy, but then I hesitated, twisting my fingers together. “But… won’t Dad be mad? And doesn’t Aunt Vivian hate the ocean?” Mom stiffened. Aunt Vivian had nearly drowned when she was a little girl, and she had a deep phobia of the ocean. Once, I came home from school and proudly showed off a watercolor painting I did of giant blue waves. That night, Vivian claimed she had terrible nightmares and couldn’t focus on her court case the next day. Dad had spent the entire night in her room, comforting her until she finally calmed down. The next morning, he looked at Mom with nothing but cold disappointment. “You picked Kate up from school and you didn’t even notice she painted waves? Vivian couldn’t sleep a wink. How is she supposed to present our case today?” “Grace, if you can’t even handle the basic preferences of the people in this house, what exactly do you do all day?” The argument ended, as it always did, with Mom quietly apologizing over and over. But Mom and I loved the ocean. Deep in her phone, Mom still saved old photos from before they were married. In those pictures, she and Dad were standing on a sandy beach, and she was laughing with a bright, radiant smile… a smile I had never seen on her face in real life. “What does his opinion matter?” Mom whispered, pulling herself out of the memory. She smoothed my hair. “We spent so much time preparing for this. Why should we stay home just because he says so? Kate, tell me, do you want to go?” I looked over at the heavy suitcases by the door. Mom had stayed up late researching travel guides. She had even crawled out of bed at four o’clock this morning to pack our bags and cook a hot breakfast. I had woken up early too, eager to help her. We got so little time with Dad. He was always busy, dedicating every spare second to Vivian and his career. Even this morning, he hadn’t said more than two words to Mom. He had spent the entire breakfast debating legal jargon with Vivian, words that flew right over my head. Looking at Mom’s hopeful, shining eyes, I nodded vigorously. “Yes! I want to go!” Mom smiled, her eyes crinkling. She immediately opened her phone and rebooked our tickets, changing our destination to a coastal town. But the moment we arrived at the airport terminal, Dad’s name flashed across Mom’s screen on a FaceTime call. Mom hesitated for a few seconds before tapping accept. Instantly, Dad’s familiar, accusatory voice boomed through the speaker. “Grace! It is bad enough that you missed the flight, but I just got a notification that you rebooked tickets to the coast? Are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten what happened last time…” My chest tightened, and I looked at Mom, terrified. But for the first time in her life, Mom didn’t apologize. She simply knitted her brows, her voice steady. “Mike. My daughter and I are going to a place we actually want to visit. Is there a problem with that?” “Lest you forget, Kate and I are your actual wife and daughter. Does our entire lives have to revolve around Vivian’s phobias?” Dad stared at the screen, momentarily speechless. But then, like a cat that had its tail stepped on, his voice spiked an octave higher. “Grace! You are the one who fed Kate something bad last night and made her sick, which is why you missed the flight in the first place! And now you are turning this around on me?” “Why are you always so careless? Why can’t you be organized and precise like Vivian?” “You two came from the same mother. How can you be so completely different?” The barrage of harsh words seemed to choke the air right out of Mom’s lungs. Her eyes welled with hot tears, and she bit her lower lip. I had seen her look this helpless too many times. Anger flared in my chest. Before I could stop myself, I snatched the tablet from Mom’s hands and glared into the camera at Dad. “Dad! You are a liar! You were the one who insisted on ordering spicy food last night because Aunt Vivian wanted to celebrate her case! You knew I couldn’t eat spicy food, but you didn’t care! How can you be so mean to Mom? I don’t like you anymore!” I slammed the screen, hanging up the call. I puffed out my chest like a little bodyguard, placing my hands on my hips. “Mom, Dad is a jerk! We don’t need him! I’ll protect you from now on!” Mom blinked in surprise, and then a genuine, beautiful laugh bubbled out of her chest. Over the intercom, the gate agent announced the final boarding call for our flight. “Alright,” Mom said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. “I’ll count on you to protect me then. We don’t need him.” When we reached our hotel by the beach, Mom threw our bags onto the bed and took me straight to the water. We splashed in the waves, built sandcastles, and took dozens of silly photos until the sun dipped below the horizon. When we finally returned to the room, Mom checked her phone. There were dozens of missed calls from Dad, and a long, guilt-tripping text from Aunt Vivian. “Sis, stop throwing a tantrum. How could you drag Kate into an adult argument? Mike couldn’t even focus during his meeting with the clients because of you.” “Just apologize to him and go home. Mike supports you financially. The least you can do is stop causing him unnecessary stress.” A shadow of sorrow crossed Mom’s eyes. She tossed the phone onto the nightstand and urged me to take a warm bath. In truth, Aunt Vivian hadn’t always been like this. When she first moved in with us, she was a quiet, timid girl who hid behind Mom’s back. She had worked incredibly hard to get out of her small rural town and get into a top-tier law school, dreaming of becoming a high-powered attorney just like Dad. Our grandparents had passed away when Mom and Vivian were young. Mom had worked multiple jobs to pay for Vivian’s tuition, only stepping back to become a homemaker after she married Dad. To help Vivian achieve her dreams, Mom had invited her to live in our guest room so Dad could mentor her and help her study. But somewhere along the way, the way Vivian looked at Mom changed. Sometimes, when Mom wasn’t home, Vivian would look over my graded schoolwork and let out a cold, mocking sneer. “You really are Grace’s daughter. Utterly brainless. If your mother hadn’t trapped your father first, a brilliant man like him would never be stuck with such a stupid kid.” I had run to Dad crying, desperate to tell him what she said. But Vivian would just put on a sweet, innocent face and deny it, and Dad would turn around and blame Mom for filling my head with lies. A sharp knock on the hotel door snapped me out of my thoughts. Mom quickly dried my hair, bundled me into my pajamas, and went to open the door. Standing on the threshold, looking exhausted and disheveled, was Dad. He stared at Mom for a long moment, then looked over at me. He let out a heavy sigh, walked into the room, and took the hairdryer from Mom’s hand to finish drying my hair. Mom stood by the window, watching silently. She didn’t do what she usually did… flutter around him, asking if he was hungry, or clinging to his arm. A flicker of panic crossed Dad’s eyes. He tried to crack a few jokes to make me laugh, but I kept my face squeezed into a pout and refused to say a word. Once my hair was dry, he walked over to Mom, his shoulders slumping. “Grace, look at what you’ve done. You get angry at me, and now even our daughter won’t talk to me.” Mom remained silent. Dad’s jaw tightened, his usual urge to scold her rising to the surface, but he forced himself to swallow it down. He lowered his voice, trying to sound reasonable. “Grace, stop acting like a child, alright? We agreed we wouldn’t fight in front of Kate.” “And about Vivian… you were the one who practically begged me to mentor her and help her career. How can you blame me for being close to her now?” “I was in the middle of crucial client meetings, but the moment I heard my wife and daughter were upset, I hopped on the very next flight. Doesn’t that prove how important you both are to me? Let me stay tonight, and we can put this behind us.” Mom looked at me, then at Dad. For a second, the coldness in her expression seemed to thaw. But before she could speak, Dad’s phone vibrated loudly on the table. The screen lit up with the caller ID: “Vivi <3". Mom's face froze. I knew for a fact that whenever Mom called him, his phone simply displayed her full name: "Grace." Dad swallowed hard, feeling Mom's gaze, but he answered the call anyway. Aunt Vivian's frantic, needy voice echoed clearly through the quiet room. "Mike... you have to come back. Grace forgot to pack the core files for the case when she was organizing your briefcase. This client is incredibly important, and only you know the details..." Dad's face fell. He looked at Mom with a familiar flash of deep disappointment. Without a second thought, he grabbed his coat. "Vivian, don't worry. Hold on, I'm heading to the airport now..." "Mike," Mom called out, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You just got here, and you're already running back to her? She has been working on this case with you from day one. How could she not know the files? What exactly are Kate and I to you?" "Enough!" Dad snapped, his patience evaporating. "Isn't this your fault in the first place? If you had packed my things properly and done your job as a housewife, would I have to fly back to help her? If you could actually comprehend a single line of legal text, would I even need Vivian's help?" "I flew all this way to find you, and you haven't given me a single warm look. Now I have to go handle a crisis, and you are throwing another tantrum. Grace, why are you so incredibly difficult to please?" He paused, glancing down at me as I sat frozen on the bed. "And look at Kate. Her grades are mediocre, and now she is throwing attitude. Growing up under your shadow is clearly ruining her. If this keeps up, I'm going to let her aunt take over her education!" With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls trembled. Mom slowly slid down against the wall, burying her face in her knees. Her quiet, breathless sobs filled the empty room. Bad Dad. He promised he wouldn't fight in front of me, and he broke his promise immediately. I climbed off the bed, wrapped my small arms around Mom, and tried my best to comfort her. After a long time, Mom wiped her tears. She looked at me, her voice trembling. "Kate... if Mom told you that you wouldn't see Dad for a very long time... would you be sad?" "No!" I crossed my arms and huffed. "We barely see him anyway. And I don't want to go to school anymore if the teachers keep asking if Aunt Vivian is my mom! I only have one mom!" Whenever Dad picked me up early from school, Vivian was always riding shotgun in his car. My homeroom teacher had even teased me once. "Kate, your father and mother are such a stunning couple. I watched them in court once... their chemistry is absolutely enviable!" And Dad had never bothered to correct her. Hearing my answer, Mom let out a wet laugh. She tucked me into bed and spent the next hour making several quiet phone calls. When she finally climbed into bed beside me, I saw a peaceful, relaxed smile on her face for the very first time. Over the next few days, Dad didn't call, and Mom didn't bother reaching out to him. Instead, she took me everywhere. We painted the waves together, and I was amazed to see that Mom's painting looked incredibly realistic, like real water splashing on the paper. Only then did I realize that Mom had given up her own dreams of going to a prestigious art school just so she could work and pay for Vivian's education. When she held a paintbrush, she looked entirely different from the stressed woman who used to hide in the study, trying to memorize boring law books just to have something to talk about with Dad. When our trip ended, we returned home. Mom spent the afternoon organizing a thick stack of documents before sending me to stay at a friend's house for a few days. Suddenly, Dad called her. "Grace, bring Kate to the firm's annual gala tonight. I managed to secure an invitation for Professor Harrison." "I know Kate likes to paint. Professor Harrison is a legend in the art world. If he agrees to mentor her, her future is set." Mom's initial refusal died on her tongue. She agreed, picked me up, and drove us to the gala. The moment we walked into the grand ballroom, we saw Dad and Aunt Vivian standing side-by-side near the center stage, welcoming guests like the hosts of the evening. It looked exactly like the parents of my classmates when they hosted parties together. Seeing us arrive, Vivian put on a show of affection. She scooped me up in her arms in front of several prominent guests. "Oh, look at our little Kate! You've gotten so thin and dark. I've only been away from you for a few days, and look what your mother did to you." In an instant, the whispers started. The surrounding guests looked at Mom with judging, critical eyes. I hated when Vivian did this. She loved playing the perfect caregiver in public to make Mom look incompetent. In the past, I would have stayed quiet, terrified of causing trouble. But this time, I squirmed violently out of her embrace and raised my voice. "I like being thin! And I like being tan!" I grabbed Mom's hand and pulled her toward our table. Whispers and chuckles rippled through the crowd. Vivian's face flushed a deep, embarrassed red, and she shot a helpless, pleading look at Dad. Dad frowned, but with so many eyes on him, he couldn't burst out in anger. Throughout the dinner, Dad's colleagues kept praising him and Vivian. "Mike, that last case you and Vivian co-counseled was absolute genius! Our firm is incredibly lucky to have a power couple like you two!" Mom's hand paused, her fork hovering in the air. Dad instinctively glanced at Mom, but her face remained entirely blank as she calmly wiped a drop of sauce from my chin. Aunt Vivian's eyes flashed with a smug, quiet triumph. One colleague, who had clearly had too much to drink, leaned in closer, his voice loud and loose. "Doesn't Vivian live with you guys anyway? You work late at the office together, go home together... man, talk about convenient! I heard Vivian was the one who insisted on joining you on this business trip, right? I left late the other night and saw the lights still on in your office. I snuck a peek... and man, Mike, you really know how to live the good life!" Clang. The spoon in Mom's hand slipped and hit her plate with a sharp, ringing sound. The colleague seemed to snap out of his drunken haze, his face paling as he quickly began to apologize. But Mom didn't say a word. She pulled me out of my chair and walked straight toward the exit. Dad chased us all the way to the glass doors of the lobby, grabbing Mom's wrist. "Grace! He was drunk and talking nonsense! Professor Harrison hasn't even arrived yet. What do you think you're doing, dragging Kate away and making a scene?" "Are you really this foolish? Do you always have to embarrass me?" "Mike." Mom slapped his hand away. When she looked into his eyes, the final spark of warmth in her gaze was completely gone. "Don't touch my daughter. You make me sick." Dad's expression darkened instantly. But before he could speak, Vivian ran up behind him, breathless. "Sis... Mike and I are completely innocent! Today is a major event for the firm. Please don't leave. If you walk out now, you will ruin his reputation!" "Mike works so hard to support you and Kate. How can you be so ungrateful..." "Shut up!" Mom barked, her voice sharp enough to cut. She immediately reached down and covered my ears. "Don't you dare speak in front of my daughter. You two talk about 'discussing cases' day and night. Is this how you discuss them?" Vivian's face went white, then red. She bit her lip, squeezing out a few trembling words. "Sis... if you hate me this much, then I'll leave! I won't bother your perfect family ever again!" Vivian turned and bolted out into the rain toward the street. Suddenly, a pair of blinding headlights rounded the corner, roaring toward her. "Vivian!" Dad shrieked. He lunged forward, throwing his body to tackle Vivian out of the way of the oncoming sedan. The sound of screeching tires and a sickening crunch echoed through the air. A heavy darkness swallowed me up. When I finally woke up, my entire body was aching. I cried out, desperately wanting Mom. A nurse rushed to my bedside to soothe me. That was when I found out that we had been in a terrible accident. Mom had taken the brunt of the impact. She had just gotten out of emergency surgery and was lying in the intensive care unit next door, her body wrapped in heavy bandages. I ignored the nurse's protests, dragged my aching body out of bed, and limped to Mom's room. Seeing her lying there, completely covered in white gauze and tubes, I burst into loud, hysterical tears. I wanted Dad. Where was Dad? Through the cracked door of the ward, I heard two nurses whispering. "Such a shame. The kid's father hasn't even shown up to the ICU. The mother's legs are severely shattered... she might be crippled for life. A mother and child, completely abandoned..." "I know! But get this... I heard that when the crash happened, the father immediately ran to pull the sister-in-law to safety. If a bystander hadn't pulled the mother out of the wreckage, she would have died right there." "The sister-in-law only has minor scrapes, but the husband has been by her bedside downstairs the entire time." A wave of pure, hot anger surged through my chest. I stormed out of the room, ran to the nurse's station, and demanded to know where Dad was. In a private ward downstairs, I saw Dad sitting on the edge of a bed, tenderly blowing on a spoonful of warm porridge before feeding it to Vivian. I lost all control. I charged into the room and bit Dad's hand as hard as I could. "Dad! Mom is hurt so badly! Why aren't you with her? I hate you! I hate you!" A flash of intense guilt crossed Dad's eyes. Vivian let out a weak, pathetic cough, leaning back against her pillows. "Mike... go see Grace. I'll be fine. If only Grace wasn't so clumsy... if she hadn't run out after me, this accident would have never happened..." She then glared at me, her voice sharp. "Kate! How dare you bite your father? Is this the kind of manners your mother teaches you? You are going to grow up to be a completely uneducated brat!" Dad looked at Vivian, a flicker of approval in his eyes... a look of respect he had never once directed at Mom. But I didn't care about him anymore. I grabbed his sleeve and dragged him up to Mom's room. Dad spent the next few hours fussing over Mom, waiting anxiously until she finally opened her eyes. The moment Mom woke up, her eyes searched the room until they found me. Seeing that I was safe, she let out a long breath, and tears finally spilled down her cheeks. But the moment her gaze landed on Dad, her face turned completely cold. "Grace... there's a highly sensitive litigation at the firm right now, and Vivian is the lead on the file. That's why I had to ensure her safety first," Dad muttered, his voice tense as he tried to break the heavy silence. "I know," Mom said, her voice flat. "It doesn't matter." Dad froze, clearly not expecting her to be this calm. After a long pause, he let out a sigh of relief. "Vivian is an adult now. It's not right for her to keep living with us anyway. Once she recovers, I'll have her move into her own apartment." "Do whatever you want." Dad breathed a sigh of relief. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders and stood up. "I'll help Vivian look for a new place, and I have to head to the firm to clean up the fallout from the gala. I'll let Kate stay here and keep you company." The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Mom spoke, her voice raspy and dry. "Kate... would you like to move to a new city with Mom?" I nodded with everything I had. Mom didn't wait to fully heal. She checked herself out of the hospital, packed our things, and took me on a flight to the coastal city of Westfield. The moment our plane touched the tarmac, my phone reconnected to the network. A barrage of notifications lit up the screen.

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1 On the hundred and eighth time Garrett asked for a divorce, I was reborn. His exhausted voice drifted to my ears: “There is nothing left between us. Dragging this out is only draining both of us.” In my past life, I was consumed by bitter denial, clinging desperately to my title as his wife. It was not until his illegitimate child was born, and I threw a massive, screaming scene, that he had me locked away in a psychiatric ward. Only when I was on my deathbed did he deign to see me one last time. “If I had known you were this unhinged, I would never have married you.” So in this life, what obsession could possibly be worth more than my own survival? “She is pregnant,” Garrett said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can have anything you want, except my last name. If we can’t settle this today, we can talk next time. We’ll keep talking until you are ready to…” I cut him off. “No need to wait for the hundred and ninth time. I agree to the divorce.” The moment the words left my mouth, Garrett’s eyelashes fluttered. He sat across from me, wearing that same weary, long-suffering expression. It was as if I had been the one throwing endless, unreasonable tantrums for the past three years, while he was the saint who patiently endured me. Now, he finally had the answer he wanted. “I am glad you have finally come to your senses.” He gave a slight nod, a trace of relief slipping into his tone that even he didn’t seem to notice. Then, he pulled a set of papers from his briefcase and slid them across the table to me. “Three properties, twelve percent of the company’s shares, the Maybach, and forty million in cash. Take a look. Let me know if you want to add anything.” He spoke with effortless fluidness, as if he had rehearsed this pitch a thousand times. His tone was sincere, carrying a patronizing touch of: I am doing this for your own good. I looked down at the contract and felt a sudden, bitter urge to laugh. I knew that what he had secretly given to my adopted sister, Audrey, was worth far more than this pittance. Without a word, I picked up the pen and signed my name. Garrett watched me finish. A strange, unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes. The news traveled fast. By that afternoon, my social media feed had absolutely exploded. Isabella finally came to her senses. Garrett is finally free. They should have divorced ages ago. Why drag him down for so long? Someone even texted the group chat: Garrett, let’s get drinks tonight. Time to celebrate. His friends were raising their glasses, cheering because he was finally rid of that suffocating woman. I scrolled through the messages one by one. I felt no rage, not even sadness. Seven years of marriage, reduced by outsiders to a single word: liberation. Nobody thought to ask me: Does it hurt? My phone vibrated. It was my close friend, Beth. She asked in a tentative, cautious voice, “Isabella, are you really letting him go?” I leaned against the window, watching the bleak, gray sky. “What choice do I have? Some people cannot be kept, no matter how tightly you hold on.” She fell silent for a few seconds before letting out a soft sigh. “I guess this is it then.” “Yeah, this is it.” I hung up, opened my gallery, and began deleting Garrett’s photos one by one. Our marriage certificate photo: he had a faint, polite smile, while I looked incredibly foolish and ecstatic. Our honeymoon by the ocean: his arm wrapped tightly around my waist as the wind whipped my hair. Our anniversary dinner: him cutting my steak while I secretly snapped a picture of his sharp profile. The last photo: our wedding day, him gently adjusting my veil. The sunlight streamed through the stained glass of the church, bathing his face in a warm, gentle glow. My finger hovered over the screen for a long, quiet second before I pressed delete. Seven years of memories, erased in three seconds. I closed my eyes, but my mind betrayed me, flooding with memories of my past life. When I found out Audrey’s child was born, I had gripped the metal rails of her hospital bed, screaming and weeping, asking why she had stolen my husband. Security guards had slammed me to the floor. With my cheek pressed against the freezing tile, I heard Garrett’s voice from above: “Send her to the asylum. I have had enough of this.” He didn’t even look back. I screamed, I wept, I begged, but nobody listened. Right before I drew my last breath, he finally visited. He stood by my bedside, wearing the dark gray wool coat I had bought for him, looking as handsome as ever. Looking at my emaciated, unrecognizable body, his final words to me were: “If I had known you were this unhinged, I would never have married you.” I opened my eyes. Night had fallen outside. In this life, I will never let myself end up like that again. I will make them pay for every drop of blood they took from me. 2 The next day, I went back to our penthouse to pack my things. I pushed the door open to find Audrey lounging on the living room sofa, cradling a maternity pillow. She was wearing Garrett’s oversized cashmere cardigan. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her face was painted with complete smugness. Seeing me, she smirked and stood up slowly, deliberately flaunting her six-month-pregnant belly as she swayed toward me. “You’re finally here, Isabella. I thought you weren’t even going to bother packing your things. I already sorted through everything for you. Have a look and see what you want to take.” Her voice was soft and sweet, like honey laced with arsenic. As she brushed past me, she lowered her voice to a venomous whisper. “This place is massive. The baby and I are living so comfortably here. Oh, by the way, I replaced the bed in the master bedroom. The old one; Garrett and I felt it brought bad luck.” Every word was a calculated stab. She spoke with the same familiar tone I had used when I first welcomed her into my home. Audrey was my adopted sister, raised in my household since childhood. My parents had treated her even better than they treated me. After I married, I felt terrible about her living alone, so I offered to let her stay with us in our new home. I had held her hand and told Garrett, “This is my sister. You must treat her well.” He had smiled and promised he would. And what did he do? She wound up in my bed wearing my nightgown, with my husband sleeping right beside her. I stared at Audrey’s round stomach, and flashes of my previous life crossed my mind. It was after this child was born that Garrett lost the last of his patience. Bound to a metal frame in the asylum, I had heard that Garrett had transferred all his assets to this newborn son. I couldn’t even cry. Pure hatred surged through me like molten lava. My nails dug deep into my palms, drawing blood. I wanted to rip her lying face to shreds and force her to suffer the exact agony she had inflicted on me. But I couldn’t. I hadn’t been given a second chance just to end up locked in a padded cell again. I drew a deep breath and began packing with an emotionless expression. There wasn’t much: a few clothes, some books, and an old picture frame. That was the entirety of my seven-year marriage. Seeing my utter lack of reaction, Audrey grew agitated. “Why aren’t you saying anything, Isabella? Is your heart breaking?” I looked up, the corners of my mouth curving into a chilling smile. “Audrey, what do you expect me to say? Should I congratulate you?” She froze. “You can have this house,” I continued. “I hope you enjoy living in my shadow.” I grabbed my suitcase and walked out. Before leaving, I glanced subtly toward a hidden corner of the study. Tucked away was a wireless spy camera I had installed the very day I signed the divorce papers. In my last life, I lost because I had no evidence. In this life, I will calculate every single move. That night, Garrett met me to sign the final financial addendum. He glanced at the papers I handed over and remarked, “Isabella, you’ve gotten a lot more sensible.” I set my pen down and looked him in the eye. “Garrett, you think this is me being sensible?” His hand hovered over his coffee cup. “Don’t play the victim,” I continued. “Sleeping with your wife’s adopted sister isn’t exactly going to look great if word gets out, is it?” His brow furrowed, but he kept his temper in check. I knew he wouldn’t lash out over a little sarcasm. Right now, his greatest fear was me making a public scene. He needed me to walk away quietly and gracefully. He needed the world to believe our divorce was an amicable split due to irreconcilable differences, rather than him knocking up my sister. I had read him perfectly. You see, I knew him inside and out. But he never truly knew me. Just as I was about to leave after signing, Audrey suddenly walked in. She clutched her belly, her voice thick with tears. “Garrett, the baby keeps kicking. It hurts so much…” Garrett slammed his coffee cup down and rushed to her side. He wrapped one arm around her waist while gently placing his other hand on her stomach, his voice melting into an incredibly tender tone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m right here.” The raw anxiety and tenderness on his face was something I had rarely seen in our seven years of marriage. Standing in the foyer, watching the display, a laugh bubbled up in my chest. How pathetic. This man treated me like a lunatic, yet offered his absolute gentleness to her. And he didn’t even suspect that the child she carried wasn’t even his. I pushed the door open, letting the cold night wind rush past me. Garrett’s voice drifted from behind: “Get home safe.” Why bother acting like you care now? 3 The next morning, I went to my design studio. The lock had been pried open. The interior was completely trashed. My hand-drawn sketches were shredded and scattered across the floor, my equipment smashed, and the wall defaced with bold red spray paint: WHORE, GET OUT. Those designs had taken me three grueling months to prepare for next month’s exhibition. Now, they were ruined. Before I could process the devastation, I heard the neighbors whispering nearby. “Did you hear? Isabella finally agreed to the divorce.” “Garrett is such a nice guy, Isabella must have done something awful to make him leave.” A wave of dizziness hit me. How incredibly familiar. It was exactly like my previous life. To shield Audrey, Garrett had spread rumors that I was mentally unstable, calling me a delusional stalker who refused to let him go. Back then, I had torn away their polite facade, storming into his corporate headquarters to expose their dirty secrets. And what happened? Everyone labeled me a psychopath. Garrett seized the opportunity, signing the commitment papers while I was screaming at the hospital. The medical report read: Paranoid Personality Disorder. Inpatient treatment recommended. Signed by Garrett. Shaking off the ghosts of my past, I marched directly up to the whispering neighbors. “You call me a mistress. Tell me, who exactly is my lover?” Startled by my sudden appearance, they stammered and looked away, unable to answer. Right then, Audrey appeared at the far end of the hallway. She glided over, her face wearing that familiar, innocent smirk. “Isabella, as for who your lover is, only you would know that.” Her eyes gleamed with absolute triumph. I looked at her with a deadpan stare. “Out of everyone standing here, only one of us is an actual homewrecker. Care to take a guess who?” Audrey’s smug grin vanished, her face turning pale. The onlookers gasped, murmuring among themselves. At that moment, Garrett rushed into the hallway. He stepped protectively in front of Audrey, glaring at me. “Isabella, the divorce is finalized. Stop targeting Audrey.” I stared back. “So you admit you are the ones behind these rumors?” He didn’t deny it, nor did he confirm it. He simply said, “You’ve crossed a line.” “I’ve crossed a line?” I turned my gaze to Audrey. “Tell me, Audrey, have I ever mistreated you? Since we were children, did I ever deny you anything? I paid for your college tuition. I got you your job. I welcomed you into my home. And this is how you repay me? By sleeping with my husband?” Audrey bit her lip, her eyes pooling with tears as she played the helpless victim. I turned back to Garrett, letting every syllable sink in. “You destroy my life behind closed doors, then play the savior in public. You are the most repulsive creature on this earth.” Garrett’s eyes turned icy. Yet, his calm, patronizing demeanor remained intact. “Isabella, you’re being hysterical. Calm down before you make things even uglier.” That was him: always composed, always protecting his image. I stood tall, speaking with cold precision. “Garrett, if you think this is crossing the line, then buckle up. I am going to show you what crossing the line actually means.” I had returned from the dead to save myself and watch them burn, not to be their punching bag. I spun around and walked out, leaving behind Audrey’s quiet whimpers and Garrett’s soft whispers: “Shh, don’t cry, sweetie. It’s bad for the baby.” I quickened my pace, never looking back. 4 I didn’t expect them to move so quickly. A handful of gossip bloggers were live-streaming outside my apartment, pointing their phone cameras at my front door. Someone had dumped trash bags, splashed red paint across my doorstep, and spray-painted HOMEWRECKER across the wall. Standing a short distance away, the sheer absurdity of the scene washed over me. The betrayed wife was being publicly branded a homewrecker, while the actual mistress slept peacefully in my ex-husband’s bed. I pulled out my phone and texted Garrett: Who dumped the trash at my door? No reply. Ten minutes later, a bank notification popped up. A wire transfer with a brief note: Compensation. I stared the sum and laughed. Compensation, again. He always thought money could resolve any crisis, as if my humiliation could be swept under the rug with a wire transfer. I vividly recalled the first time he sent me “compensation.” It was the day I found Audrey’s lace underwear at the foot of our bed. I had returned early from a business trip, opened our bedroom door, and saw her bra lying right there. Garrett had just stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still wet. When I demanded an explanation, his face didn’t even twitch. “It’s exactly what it looks like,” he had said. I screamed, threw things, and broke down like a madwoman, demanding to know why. He remained entirely silent. Finally, he transferred a large sum to my account and said, “We can divorce.” But why? Why did I have to be cast aside when this was my home too? He stared at me for a long time before saying, “Isabella, given your colorful past, I was the only man willing to look past it and marry you.” The room had fallen into a heavy, agonizing silence. That was the first time he used my trauma to stab me. The incident in college wasn’t my fault, yet in his mouth, it became the reason I wasn’t worthy of him. He apologized later, claiming he spoke in anger. But I knew better. It wasn’t an outburst; it was his truth. He had never actually accepted me. Coming back to the present, I stared at the transaction on my screen. I didn’t accept the money. Instead, I took a screenshot and saved it. Every single cent of his compensation was a paper trail. Then, I forwarded the screenshot directly to Audrey. The very next morning, a vicious rumor exploded online: Isabella’s premarital affairs exposed. My name, my photos, and the trauma I had buried deep inside were splashed across gossip blogs and video essays. I couldn’t believe Garrett had shared my deepest wounds with her. What was I to him? A conversational piece? A token to please his new lover? I stared at the flood of vile comments. Why? Why did the wrongdoers get to strut around like royalty while the victim was hunted down? Why did Garrett and Audrey get to walk away unscathed, while I was stripped bare for public amusement? My phone buzzed. It was Beth. Isabella, I have all the files. I replied: Perfect. Another notification popped up on my screen: In three days, Garrett and Audrey will host their engagement gala at the InterContinental Hotel downtown. I made a call. “Get me an invitation to the grand ballroom at the InterContinental.” Three days later, dressed in a sleek, floor-length black dress, I walked through the grand entrance of the ballroom. Audrey clung to Garrett’s arm in a white trailing gown, smiling as if the entire world owed her its blessings. I pulled out my phone and started a live stream. “Hello, everyone. I am Isabella.” I walked toward the stage, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. Garrett finally spotted me, his pupils contracting instantly. “Today, I’m taking you all on a live tour of my ex-husband and my adopted sister’s engagement gala.”

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1 My fiancée never seemed to catch my words, yet she responded flawlessly to my best friend’s slightest cues. She blamed poor hearing, insisting people stand close and speak up. But with Will, she never asked for repeats. Two taps on the table and she slid him coffee. A glance at the window and she rose to shut it. Yet when I sat beside her and called her name twice, she turned blankly. Did you say something? Speak up, I can’t hear you. I swallowed hard, telling myself she was worn out from wedding plans. That illusion shattered during our photoshoot, when Jenny pulled Will into the frame. Let’s get one of the three of us, she said. Rare we’re all dressed like this. After the shutter clicked, the photographer handed me the preview. In the shot, Jenny’s right hand hung loose, her pinky hooked around Will’s. The smile she gave the camera was relaxed, effortless—nothing like the strained look I’d seen for three years. I lowered my bouquet slowly. Watching her gesture softly to Will a few feet away, I stayed silent. There was no point. She wouldn’t hear me. The photographer laid out thirty proofs on the table. Jenny’s gaze skipped right over me and landed squarely on Will. “Which one do you think is best, Will?” Will didn’t speak. He simply reached out and tapped the corner of that three-person group shot with his index finger. Jenny immediately turned to the studio staff. “Blow this one up. Make it the secondary poster for the welcome table.” The staff member froze, shooting me a highly uncomfortable look. Right on cue, Will took a half-step back, his tone smooth and considerate. “It’s probably not appropriate to put the groomsman on the wedding poster, is it?” Jenny casually took his trench coat off the back of the chair and draped it over her own arm. “Why wouldn’t it be? You’ve been with us every step of the way. You deserve to be in the picture.” She finally turned back to look at me, as if waiting for my stamp of approval. I gave a small smile. “Print it. Put it right in the most prominent spot.” After all, there wouldn’t be a groom standing next to it on that day anyway. She nodded in satisfaction and reached out, trying to brush a stray hair behind my ear. I tilted my head away, pretending to look down and adjust the hem of my suit jacket, letting her hand catch empty air. Jenny didn’t press the issue because Will just tapped the side of his empty water glass. Two soft clinks. She spun around, walked straight to the lounge bar, filled a glass with warm water, and handed it over. The moment his fingers wrapped around the glass, Will looked up at her. His lips parted slightly, silently mouthing the word “thanks.” Jenny read the exact curve of his lips without missing a beat. But when I had just told her to put the poster in the most prominent spot, she hadn’t even tilted her ear toward me. I pulled out my phone and opened the venue booking app. I was the sole contact person who had signed for all the hotel blocks, catering, and accommodations. Quietly, I went down the list, canceling the room reservations for the five tables of my out-of-state relatives, one by one. By the time the refunds processed, Jenny was busy adjusting the angle of the straw in Will’s water glass. A confirmation pop-up appeared on my screen. I pressed “Yes.” Later, in the showroom of the wedding favor company, the manager brought out the premium tea gift sets I had finalized last month. Artisanal chamomile and Earl Grey. The older folks in her family had been drinking it for two decades. Will picked up the complimentary matcha cookie that came in the box, wrinkled his nose slightly, and pushed it away an inch. Jenny’s eyes locked onto that micro-movement instantly. She turned to the manager. “Swap all the favors to those drip-bag coffee pouches from that hipster roastery. Will recommended them before, the quality is great.” I raised my voice. “The older relatives don’t drink black coffee.” Jenny pointed to her right ear and shook her head with a sigh. “If you lower your voice, I can actually catch it. When you shout like that, it’s just static to me. Whatever, just put the order through, manager.” The manager walked over with the amended invoice, asking me to sign and pay the final balance. The total had jumped from five hundred dollars to over two thousand. Will stood by the display boxes, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a silk wrapping ribbon. The ribbon got tangled around his wrist. He didn’t try to pull it off, only furrowing his brow slightly. Jenny walked right over, meticulously unwinding the silk ribbon from his wrist loop by loop. On the day we got our marriage license, I had crouched outside City Hall to tie my dress shoes. The aglet got stuck in the eyelet, and I struggled with it for a minute. She had stood ten feet away, loudly rushing me, complaining she couldn’t hear why I was dawdling and telling me to hurry up and stop embarrassing her. The manager was still waiting for my signature. I placed the pen back on the glass table, took a step back, and looked at Jenny with a polite smile. “You ordered it. You sign for it.” She frowned, but didn’t want to make a scene in front of Will. She snatched the pen, signed her name, and swiped her own credit card. Two thousand four hundred dollars. While she was distracted asking Will about packaging colors, I logged into the catering portal and wiped out the entire open bar and beverage order for all forty tables. Jenny walked back over holding the coffee samples Will had approved, looking to be in high spirits. “Rowan, what do you want for dinner?” Her voice was three times louder than when she was speaking to me earlier. Because Will was watching, she needed to put on the performance of a sweet, attentive fiancée. “Whatever.” My volume was perfectly normal. Predictably, she didn’t hear it. She turned right back to Will. “Sushi bar for dinner?” Will nodded, drawing a small circle in the air with his finger. She laughed. “Got it, the rotary sushi place.” I followed behind them and locked my phone screen. The cancellation receipt for the wedding drinks had already hit my inbox. 2 By the time the movers dropped the last three boxes off at our new apartment, Will was already sitting on the living room sofa flipping through an architectural digest. He claimed he was there to help figure out which entrance the groomsmen should use to make the procession flow better. The TV was on, playing the afternoon news. Will raised a hand to cover his right ear, his eyebrow twitching just a fraction of an inch. Jenny leaned out of the kitchen, crossed the room in two strides, and muted the television. I stood in the hallway holding a heavy box of books and asked her. “Do you want the bedroom shelves installed on the left or the right?” She had her back to me, busy pouring lukewarm water for Will. I asked again, raising my voice significantly. She didn’t turn around. Will stood up with his glass and strolled toward the master bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bridal bed, glanced up at the vintage brass wall sconce above the headboard, and murmured softly. “This light is a bit dim.” His voice was much quieter than my shout had been. Jenny followed him right in, stepped onto a stool, and unscrewed the sconce in three quick motions. That was the exact light fixture I had spent a week hunting down on an antique auction site. I walked into the bedroom. “Why are you taking it down?” Jenny watched Will’s lips before relaying his thoughts. “The lighting is harsh on the eyes. We should get something brighter.” Will immediately chimed in. “I was just thinking out loud. Don’t replace it on my account.” Jenny handed the heavy brass fixture to me. “It’s fine, Will’s eyes are sensitive anyway. Rowan, just go hunt down another one online. You like browsing those sites.” I didn’t say a word. I turned around and shoved the sconce into a cardboard box by the door. Later that afternoon, the boutique delivered our wedding attire. Will tried on the cropped suit trousers meant for the groomsmen. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, his gaze drifted down to his calf. There was a faded, inch-long scar on the outer side of his right leg, perfectly exposed by the hemline. He looked down and tapped the scar with his fingertip. He didn’t speak. Standing nearby, Jenny followed his finger and stared at his leg. She frowned. Will turned and grabbed my tuxedo from the rack. It was a heavy, custom-tailored suit with intricate stitching along the long coat tails. It had taken two months to hand-sew. He held it up against his body. “The length on this would cover it perfectly.” Jenny looked at me, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather. “Will has a scar on his leg. Shorts and cropped pants won’t look good on him. Rowan, just wear the backup suit, let him wear this one.” She paused, then pulled out her phone and wired me three thousand dollars on the spot. “Take this as compensation. You can order another custom one later.” The frostbite scars on my calves were three times the size of that thin white line on Will’s leg. During my sophomore year, I spent two months freezing my legs off handing out flyers in the snow to afford her first pair of high-end hearing aids. My skin had blistered and peeled. She had sat in the clinic hugging my knees and crying, swearing that when we got married, she would buy me the longest, most expensive tuxedo money could buy. I kept my mouth shut and accepted the money transfer. The tailor led Will behind the curtain to change. Jenny watched him walk into the fitting room, not turning her eyes away until the heavy velvet curtain fell shut. Then she turned with a smile and patted my shoulder. “You’re so understanding.” I smiled back. I unlocked my phone and refunded my parents’ train tickets. Then my aunt’s, my uncle’s, and my cousin’s. Six tickets in total, canceled one by one. A notification chimed loudly from my phone confirming the hotel refunds had hit my bank account. Jenny didn’t hear a thing. Will stepped out from behind the curtain wearing my custom tuxedo. The tails draped perfectly, the stitching catching the overhead light like crushed gold. Jenny stared at him, her eyes brimming with pure admiration. “You look amazing.” She had never said those words to me. I took a screenshot of the canceled train tickets and saved it to an album. I titled the album: Two days until the wedding. 3 The sound system in the hotel ballroom was cranked to maximum volume. Jenny stood frozen halfway down the runway, pressing a palm tightly against her right ear. The officiant politely asked her to wait for the groom’s entrance. She shook her head. “It’s too loud. I can’t stand here.” Will rose from the front row of the guest seating, walked right up to her, and pulled a pair of silicone earplugs from his pocket. He didn’t say a word. He just lowered his head slightly. Jenny naturally stood on her tiptoes, leaning in to let him insert the earplugs for her. They looked at each other and shared a quiet smile. The officiant hit play on the entrance march. I started walking from the beginning of the red carpet. Wearing her earplugs, Jenny kept her eyes glued to the hem of Will’s trousers. He was standing very close to the carpet, and her gaze tracked the tip of his shoes, terrified he might trip over something. I stopped directly in front of her. “Jenny.” She didn’t react. I raised my voice. “Jenny.” She still didn’t look up. Will finally reached out and nudged her elbow. She snapped out of her daze, glanced up at me, and with a delayed reaction, held out her hand. Her fingers brushed against mine, but her eyes were already drifting past my shoulder, fixated on the teleprompter behind the officiant. I pulled my hand back. “We can skip this part of the rehearsal.” Assuming I was just complaining about the stuffy room, Jenny let out a breath of relief. “Sure, we’ll just wing it tomorrow.” I retreated to a chair on the sidelines, opened my work app, and sent my final handover documents to Greg in HR. My official departure date was set for tomorrow. After the rehearsal, we went up to the VIP suite to verify the jewelry. The wedding planner handed over the velvet ring box. I opened it to inspect the contents. Two bare diamonds, one large, one small. I had flown to five different cities to find the perfect stones. Will leaned over to look, hovering his left ring finger over the box to gauge the size. Jenny picked up the smaller secondary ring, grabbed Will’s hand without a second thought, and tried to slide it onto his ring finger. “Let’s see if it fits.” Her tone was as careless as if she were testing a cheap pair of winter gloves. The ring got stuck at the second knuckle. Will’s knuckles were on the thicker side. The metal band wouldn’t go up, and it wouldn’t go down. The base of his finger quickly began to turn a bruised purple. Jenny completely panicked. She had Will soak his hand in ice water, pumped liquid soap over his knuckles, and scrubbed frantically for five minutes. It didn’t budge. The purple tint grew darker. Jenny practically screamed at the hotel staff to call maintenance. A mechanic rushed in with a toolbox and pulled out a pair of micro-pliers. The grating sound of metal grinding against metal echoed in the suite for agonizing seconds. The band snapped cleanly in half. Jenny cradled Will’s hand, desperately checking his skin for scratches, all while throwing words over her shoulder at me. “What kind of cheap closure design is this? The band is way too narrow. If you hadn’t insisted on buying this rigid cut, Will wouldn’t have gotten stuck.” “Whatever, it’s broken. Just grab a plain silver band for tomorrow so we don’t look like idiots in front of my family.” I had spent four months comparing clarity and cuts for that diamond. When I first showed it to her, she had held my hands and declared it was the anchor of our marriage, something that must remain flawless. I took the remaining primary diamond out of the box and dropped it into my briefcase. At nine o’clock that night, I called a luxury jewelry buyer. He verified the GIA certificate numbers over the phone and offered me ten thousand dollars in cash. I took the deal. Then I logged into our joint banking portal and transferred every cent of my personal savings I had fronted for the wedding back into my private account. The shared balance hit zero. As I confirmed the transfer, Jenny was meticulously applying a waterproof bandage to Will’s bruised knuckle. She smoothed down every edge flawlessly, terrified he might get water on it. I locked my phone and stared at the two broken halves of metal lying on the carpet. It was good material. It just wasn’t worth anything anymore. 4 Before heading out, Jenny changed into a dark navy silk blouse and spritzed her favorite perfume. “The girls are throwing me a wild bachelorette night, so I might be back late.” She walked up to me and, in a rare display of affection, stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek. “Tomorrow, you’ll finally be my husband.” She smiled and walked out the door. The second the lock clicked shut, I pulled a stack of heavy-duty black trash bags from under the couch. My toothbrush cup from the vanity. My face wash from the shower. The potted mint plant I grew on the balcony. Six jackets, three button-downs, and a scarf from the closet. My passport, my college degree, my banking security tokens from the desk drawer. Everything went into the bags. The apartment was massive, yet the space I occupied was pathetically small. Three years of my life fit into two and a half trash bags. At ten o’clock, I carried the bags downstairs. Across the street from our complex was a cozy Italian bistro, its warm yellow light spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I was about to turn toward the dumpsters when my peripheral vision caught a familiar silhouette in the glass. Jenny was sitting at a window booth. Sitting across from her was Will. Just the two of them, a bottle of wine, and no sign of any “girls.” Will raised a finger and pointed to the corner of his own mouth. Jenny grabbed a linen napkin from the table, leaned completely across the booth, and gently wiped a smudge of sauce from his lip. She didn’t pull her hand back immediately. Her fingers lingered by his cheek as she murmured something. Will smiled, lowered his head, and lightly pressed his forehead against the back of her hand. I stood on the opposite sidewalk and watched them for ten full seconds. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed Jenny’s number. She pulled her hand back, hesitating for several rings before finally pressing accept. “Hey? Rowan?” The background noise on the call was perfectly quiet. “The girls are doing karaoke and it’s so loud in here, I can hardly hear you! What’s up?” I didn’t say anything. “Whatever it is, tell me tomorrow. Go to sleep early!” The call disconnected. I threw the trash bags into the dumpster and turned back toward the apartment. On the coffee table, a massive Lego castle was still lit up from the inside. Three thousand seven hundred pieces. We had spent two months building it together. When she attached the highest spire, she had told me this represented our future home. I reached out and shoved the castle off the table, watching it shatter into pieces in the trash can. At two in the morning, Jenny finally came home. She reeked of alcohol, and there was a faint, undeniable hickey near her collarbone. She didn’t come into the master bedroom. She tip-toed down the hall into the guest room and quietly shut the door. Two minutes later, my phone screen lit up. “You’re going to be the most handsome groom tomorrow. Get some rest. I love you.” I stared at that text for a very long time. At three in the morning. I stood in the center of the living room with a single duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Spread out on the coffee table was the cropped backup tuxedo she had forced me to wear. It was folded sharply. Resting right on the collar was a tarnished silver quarter. Heads up. It was the exact quarter I got in change when she bought me frostbite ointment during that freezing winter in college. That was the day she swore she would never let me suffer or be wronged again. Our entire relationship had started with this quarter, and now, I was giving it back to her. Paid in full. We were done. I stared at the closed door of the guest room. I spoke in a low, even voice, enunciating every syllable slowly into the dead quiet of the apartment. “Jenny, your groom doesn’t want you anymore.” I walked to the entryway and bent down to tie my shoes. When I stood up, I raised my voice one last time and shouted toward that closed door. “Jenny.” My voice echoed down the hallway. Met with absolute silence. I let out a soft laugh, pushed the front door open, and walked out into the night. From today on, I would never have to shout to be heard again.

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Transmigrated into the body of a ridiculously wealthy heiress, my billionaire mother sent me out to collect rent. Miguel had just finished a brutal underground boxing match. He was covered in bruises. “Money is a little tight right now. Can you give me a two-month grace period?” I shot down the request without blinking. “No way. If you don’t have the rent by tonight, pack your bags.” The man turned around in silence and walked into his room to pack. Right on cue, a mechanical voice chimed in my head. “System online. Host, your mission is to conquer him.” Miguel was a professional boxer. According to the plot, he was destined to win countless gold belts and become a legend. Right now, he was just at rock bottom. I closed the front door behind me, walked up to him, and casually poked his rock-hard abs. I offered him a wicked smile. “How about you pay off your rent with yourself?” 1 “Your lease expires today. If you want to renew, you need to pay next year’s rent upfront.” I pulled up the payment link on my phone and held it up to Miguel. “Oh, and my mom said the rent is going up by ten percent. That makes it forty thousand dollars for the year. You can just scan this.” Miguel was a pro boxer who had literally just stepped out of the ring. Judging by the fresh purple bruises blooming across his ribs, he had lost. His face was battered, a split lip and a bruised cheekbone, but none of it managed to dull his rugged, heart-stopping good looks. He pulled a bottle of ice water from the fridge and casually pressed it against his bruised jaw. “Money is a little tight right now. Can you give me a two-month grace period?” Two months? That was way too long. Two or three days, maybe. But asking for two whole months right out of the gate? I shut him down instantly. “No way. If you don’t have the rent by tonight, pack your bags. We have a waitlist of people dying to move into this building.” Miguel grabbed another bottle of water and handed it to me. “One month, then?” Standing at six-foot-three, he loomed over me, radiating a dark, overwhelming presence. He was wearing a skin-tight athletic shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Every carved inch of his chest and abs was practically demanding attention. I couldn’t help but wonder what all that muscle felt like. Suddenly, my mouth went completely dry. I twisted the cap of my water bottle, trying to look unbothered. “No. The best I can do is let you pay half a year upfront. You can pay the rest next month.” Before I even finished my sentence, Miguel took the bottle from my hands. I had been struggling to open it. I thought he was going to snap at me. Instead, he effortlessly twisted the cap off, handed it back, and said in a low voice, “I’ll go pack my bags. I’ll be out by tonight.” He turned and walked toward his bedroom. Wow. He really was broke. Are boxers really this poor? He couldn’t even scrape together rent money? Or maybe he was just going through a really rough patch? The System’s voice suddenly echoed in my mind. “Please initiate the conquest of this target, Host.” “Pfft.” I choked on the water I had just taken a sip of, nearly spitting it all over the floor. 2 Three months ago, I woke up inside a steamy romance novel as a filthy rich heiress. The package deal included this so-called Conquest System. This was the very first mission it had ever given me. A shiver ran down my spine. “He looks a little too intense. I don’t think I can handle a guy like that.” The System let out a sleazy, robotic chuckle. “Oh, once you get a taste, you’ll be begging for more. Trust me.” Miguel walked out of his room and headed to the balcony to gather his laundry. He was holding a pair of boxer briefs in his hand. As he walked past the living room, he stopped and looked at me. “Why are you still here?” The System chimed in again. “Scanning target. Measurements confirm he is packing an XL. You are in for a treat, Host.” The tips of my ears burned bright red. What the hell did XL mean? Nope. I was playing dumb. I absolutely refused to be corrupted by an AI. The System wasn’t done. “New directive. Please go poke his chest.” Excuse me? You can’t just walk up and poke a guy’s chest like he’s a piece of meat on display. What if he got mad and snapped my neck? But before my brain could process the danger, my body was already moving. I stood up from the sofa and walked right up to him. I reached out a single finger and pressed it against Miguel’s chest. Wow. Solid as a rock. I kind of wanted to do it again. Miguel froze. A faint flush crept up his neck and tipped his ears. He looked at me like I was an alien species he had never encountered before. “What exactly are you doing?” Before I could come up with a lie, the System issued another order. “Directive updated. Now poke his abs.” I had no explanation for poking his chest. Now I had to poke his abs? I was going to die today. Swallowing my pride, I reached lower, trailing my finger over the ridged muscles of his stomach. I looked up at him through my lashes and flashed a wicked, sultry smile. “How about you pay off your rent with yourself?” Miguel’s eyes darkened instantly. His voice dropped an octave, turning rough and gravelly. “What did you just say? Repeat that.” 3 The System was practically cheering. “The more times you conquer the target tonight, the higher your rewards will be. Good luck, Host.” I swallowed hard, letting the adrenaline take over. “I said, you can use yourself to pay the rent.” “You said money was tight, right? Say yes, and you won’t have to pack your bags tonight.” “One time equals one month of rent.” “How many months you want to pay off is entirely up to you.” That last sentence came out as barely a whisper. But Miguel heard every single word. His gaze swept over me, dark, predatory, and burning with a sudden, intense heat. “Are you sure about this?” I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’m sure.” In the blink of an eye, he scooped me up by the waist and dropped me onto the plush sofa behind us. His large, calloused hands gripped my waist. He leaned down, his voice thick with meaning. “It’s not too late to back out.” I forced myself to hold his gaze. “I’m not backing out.” Without breaking eye contact, Miguel grabbed the hem of his athletic shirt and pulled it over his head. Up close, his physique was nothing short of a masterpiece. Before I could even take it all in, his mouth crashed down on mine, hungry and desperate. A drop of hot sweat rolled off his sharp jawline and landed perfectly on my collarbone. Like a storm tearing through a quiet town, he kissed the heat right off my skin, leaving me trembling. Every nerve in my body was buzzing. His voice was a husky, intoxicating rasp against my ear. “I need a shower. Care to join me?” The System yelled in my head. “Host, say yes.” My cheeks were on fire. I looked up at him, my voice completely soft and ruined. “The tiles are slippery. You’ll have to carry me.” 4 The bathroom was thick with steam, clouding the mirrors and making my eyes glisten like a siren drawing a sailor to the rocks. Miguel was like a man who had been wandering in a desert for years, finally stumbling upon a lush oasis. And true to his profession, his stamina was absolutely terrifying. By the time he carried me out of the bathroom, I just wanted to curl up in the corner of the sofa and pass out. He pressed a lingering kiss to my lips, coaxing me awake. “Don’t fall asleep yet.” I stretched like a lazy cat. “That was two months of rent right there. We’re good.” Miguel knelt over me on the sofa, a raging wildfire burning in his dark eyes. “Two months isn’t nearly enough.” I was speechless. “By the way,” he whispered, trailing kisses down my neck, “I still don’t know your name.” “Hazel. Hazel Harrington.” The night was intoxicating. A warm breeze drifted in from the balcony, rustling the blooming wild roses he kept in a pot by the railing. The next morning, I stumbled out of Miguel’s apartment. He had left for the gym at the crack of dawn. His energy levels were insane. The System booted up immediately. “Congratulations, Host. Target successfully conquered last night. Please claim your rewards.” “Reward: Lost three pounds. Applied.” “Reward: Skin brightened by one shade. Applied.” “Reward: Beauty stat increased by ten. Applied.” “Reward: Charm stat increased by ten. Applied.” “Reward: Cup size increased by one. Applied.” “Reward: Physical flexibility increased by ten. Applied.” “Reward: Bank balance increased by $77,777. Transferred.” Listening to that rapid-fire list of perks sent a rush of pure dopamine to my brain. Honestly, the money and the looks were great, but as a professional dancer, that plus-ten flexibility stat was gold. I could pull off routines I hadn’t even dared to try before. The System snickered. “Hehe, you can definitely pull off a lot of high-difficulty positions now.” I ignored the dirty joke. If these were the rewards, I was fully on board for more missions. The second I got into my car, my mom’s name flashed on the screen. “Hazel, honey,” she said cheerfully. “How did the rent collection go?” I did a quick mental tally. “Got almost everyone. Just one unit left.” My mom didn’t miss a beat. “Beverly Grove, Building 1, Unit 1101, right? Perfect. Someone just offered double the asking price for that place. Tell the current tenant he has two days to pack up and leave.” My mind flashed back to the steamy night on the sofa, and my face heated up instantly. “Mom, no. We can’t kick him out. He’s pre-paid for at least seven months.” My mom was confused. “Seven months? I thought his rent was completely overdue.” I spotted Miguel walking out of the building, heading straight for my car in the parking lot. I panicked and rushed to get off the line. “Mom, something just came up. I’ll call you back later.” I hung up just as Miguel stepped up to the driver’s side window. He looked like he had something to say. “Everything okay?” I rolled the window down. He held up a small tube of medical ointment. Without a word, he opened the door, effortlessly picked me up from the driver’s seat, and deposited me into the spacious backseat. “You got scraped. Let me put this on for you.” 5 Last night in the bathroom, my lower back had accidentally slammed into the sharp edge of the marble sink. It was just a minor scrape, nothing serious. But sitting in the cramped backseat brought back vivid memories of being pressed against his crowded sofa. I cleared my throat and looked away. “You really need to wash those sofa cushions.” He hummed in agreement. “Yeah. Need to change the bedsheets, too.” My face felt like it was on fire. I pressed my face into a plush throw pillow and refused to look at him. Miguel gently lifted the hem of my shirt. His breathing hitched slightly. “You’re so delicate. Your skin bruises if I even breathe on it.” I buried my face deeper into the pillow. “Stop talking.” He squeezed some of the cooling gel onto his fingertips and carefully massaged it into the scraped skin on my lower back. “Were you serious last night? Seven months of free rent?” He was being incredibly gentle, but the moment the medicine touched the broken skin, it stung. I hissed in pain. “I was serious,” I mumbled. A satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of Miguel’s mouth. He gently rolled me over so I was facing him. I caught his gaze slowly dropping lower. I immediately pulled the throw pillow to my chest to cover myself. “That’s enough. Get out of my car.” He chuckled, letting it slide. He pulled out his phone and handed it to me. “Give me your number. I have a fight coming up. You should come watch.” “Fine.” I typed my number in and handed it back. 6 When I got home, I collapsed onto the living room sofa. The housekeeper immediately brought out a plate of freshly cut fruit. My mom walked down from the second floor, looking deeply stressed. “Hazel, I just got off the phone with the police. Dexter broke out of prison. You need to be incredibly careful when you go out. I’m terrified he’s going to come after us.” My mom owned a ridiculous amount of real estate, and a lot of the properties were rented out. Dexter used to be one of our tenants. He was a man with a violent, twisted mind. According to the original plot of the book, three years ago, I went to his apartment to collect rent. When I stood outside his door, the hallway reeked of copper and blood. His shirt was stained crimson. When I stared at it, he offered a chilling smile. “Just butchering some chickens in the kitchen. Want to come in and take a look?” “Is your wife home?” I had asked, leaning slightly to peek inside. The place felt empty. “She went to the grocery store to buy some soy sauce. She’ll be back any minute. Why don’t you stay for lunch?” Dexter had swung the door wide open, his eyes gleaming with something terrifying. Every instinct in my body screamed that something was horribly wrong. “No, I’m good. My mom is waiting for me for lunch. Gotta go.” I practically sprinted down the hallway. When I got home, the sickening dread wouldn’t go away, so I called the cops. When the police busted down Dexter’s door, he had already finished dismembering his wife and was boiling her bones on the stove. He was sentenced to a decade in prison, and he blamed me entirely. As they dragged him away, he screamed that the day he got out, he would hunt me down. A chill ran down my spine. “He actually broke out? That’s insane.” My mom was trembling. “Cancel your dance performance next week. I won’t be able to sleep if you’re out in public like that.” My actual career was as a professional dancer. In two weeks, I was scheduled to perform as the lead backup dancer for pop idol Tedd’s solo arena tour. Tedd and I went to the same university. Getting a gig like this was a huge career milestone, and I absolutely refused to breach the contract. Besides, Dexter was a fugitive on the run. The entire police force was hunting him. He was probably scrambling to survive. Coming after me right now would be suicidal. Still, better safe than sorry. An image of Miguel’s massive, imposing frame flashed in my mind. My eyes lit up. “Mom, what if I just hire a bodyguard?” My mom instantly looked relieved. “That’s brilliant. Actually, one isn’t enough. Hire four. I’ll wire the money to your account right now.” 7 A few days later, I texted Miguel. [What are you up to? Busy?] He must have been training because it took him half an hour to reply. [Just finished a round on the heavy bag. Want to come over?] [Send me the address. I’m on my way.] I needed to see just how good he actually was. If he had the skills to back up all that muscle, I was going to hire him to keep me safe. Miguel sent me the location for Apex Gym. When I pulled up and walked into the training area, Miguel was in the middle of a brutal sparring session with another fighter. The other guy was Jax, a former regional champion who had retired and opened this gym to work as a coach. I stood by the ropes, watching quietly. Miguel caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye, and it was like someone flipped a switch. His intensity skyrocketed. Within three rounds, he delivered a devastating hook that sent Jax crashing to the mat. I clapped softly, genuinely impressed. He really is that good. The System sounded smug. “Of course he is. Miguel is destined to win every major title in the sport. His legacy will dwarf Jax’s. Why do you think I picked him for you?” So he really was a future world champion. Then he was definitely overqualified to be my bodyguard. I grabbed a fresh bottle of water and walked over to hand it to him. Jax picked himself up from the mat, wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked at me. “Your girlfriend?” “Yeah,” Miguel nodded smoothly. He grabbed my hand and led me toward the locker rooms. 8 Inside the private locker room, Miguel grabbed a towel and started wiping the sweat off his chest. I couldn’t help but stare. The man was a walking work of art. I forced my brain to reboot. “Since when did I agree to be your girlfriend?” Miguel stepped into my personal space, his voice a low, magnetic hum. “Do you want to be? When I win the championship belts and all that prize money, you can have it all.” Well, that was direct. I was just here for a good time, and he was already talking about handing over his life savings? I cleared my throat, shifting gears. “Alright, let’s be serious. I came here today for a reason.” His expression hardened instantly, slipping into a cold, professional mask. “What is it?” “I want to hire you as my personal bodyguard. Name your price.” “I’m a fighter, not a security guard.” He paused, his dark eyes trailing over my face. “But if it’s for you, I’ll do it.” Before I could ask about his rate, he added, “And I don’t want your money. You’re letting me live rent-free, right? Consider this returning the favor.” Wow. A free, world-class bodyguard. I hit the jackpot. “Take a seat. I need to take a quick shower and change. Then I’m taking you to dinner.” I was just about to nod when the System crashed my thoughts. “New mission. Ask Miguel to teach you self-defense.” I replied internally, Sure, makes sense. The System added, “And he has to teach you inside the shower.” My jaw almost hit the floor. Are you kidding me? Of all the places to learn martial arts, you want me to do it in a slippery, cramped glass box? This System was completely unhinged. I argued back. What’s the reward for this? “For every move you master, your Defense stat increases by ten. No limit.” With a literal serial killer on the loose, a higher defense stat could be the difference between life and death. Even if Miguel was my bodyguard, he still had training. He couldn’t physically be glued to my side twenty-four-seven. If push came to shove, I needed to be able to protect myself. Screw it. I’m doing it. I grabbed Miguel’s hand before he could walk away and pointed toward the row of showers. “Can you teach me some self-defense right now?” 9 “Sure.” Miguel led me straight into the furthest shower stall and locked the door behind us. It was his idea of situational training—teaching me how to break free if an attacker cornered me in a tight, inescapable space. Miguel stood behind me, wrapping his massive arms around my waist to simulate being grabbed from behind. “What have you been eating? Papaya and cream?” he muttered, his voice rough. “Your waist is so soft. If I squeezed too hard, I’d break you in half.” “What kind of lotion do you use? Your skin is flawless.” He was supposed to be playing the bad guy, but his whispered commentary was doing terrible things to my heart rate. After showing me the hold, he walked me through the escape. Following his exact instructions, I spun around and threw an elbow right into his ribs. He hissed, genuinely startled by the impact. Learning actual self-defense was no joke. Miguel walked me through multiple scenarios. He was incredibly patient, and I focused intensely on every single movement. Half an hour later, there was a heavy knock on the locker room door. Jax’s voice echoed through the room. “Miguel, I gotta head out early. Lock up the gym for me, will you?” The gym was officially closed. The other fighters had already cleared out. I held my breath in the damp shower stall. Miguel didn’t miss a beat. “Got it.” We heard Jax’s heavy footsteps fade away down the hall. The lesson continued. By the time I had mastered every move he showed me, I was drenched in sweat and completely exhausted. After a quick rinse, Miguel wrapped me tightly in a massive, fluffy towel. “Don’t catch a cold. Let’s go get some food.” I offered a tired smile. “Okay.” By the time we walked out of the dark, empty gym hand-in-hand, the sun had completely set. The System buzzed happily. “Congratulations, Host. Mission accomplished. Please claim your rewards.” “Defense stat +10. Applied.” “Defense stat +10. Applied.” A total of twenty defense points. Not bad at all. I felt significantly safer walking out into the night. 10 Miguel took me out for a massive steak dinner. Once we were completely stuffed, he drove me back to my sprawling estate. Standing right by the front gates, he pulled me in, demanding a kiss. I went up on my tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. I tried to pull away, but his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him. What followed was a deep, breathless, soul-stealing kiss. By the time I finally stumbled inside, my mom was practically waiting by the door. “Hazel, who was that stunning man dropping you off? A new boyfriend? Why on earth didn’t you invite him inside?” She saw everything. I scrambled for an excuse. “That’s the new bodyguard I hired.” “Oh… just a bodyguard.” My mom sounded visibly disappointed. She tried a different angle. “Well, since you’re single, how about I set you up on some blind dates?” “No thanks,” I waved her off, practically running for the private elevator. “Mom, I’m exhausted. Going to bed. You should sleep too.” Between the intense training and the non-stop “conquering” of Miguel, my legs felt like jelly. The last thing I wanted was a blind date. I face-planted into bed and slept like the dead. I slept so hard I completely missed the string of late-night texts Miguel fired off. [Are you asleep?] [I can’t sleep.] [Thinking about you.] [Every time I close my eyes, you’re right there.] [You looked incredible today. Completely intoxicating.] [I can’t get enough of you.] [What time are you leaving tomorrow? I’m coming to pick you up.] He even sent a short video of himself casually wiping sweat off his abs. When I opened it the next morning, I almost dropped my phone. The chest. The V-line. It was a masterpiece. The System chimed in, munching on digital popcorn. “Oh, he has got it bad for you.” I picked up my phone and silently watched the video three more times. After showering and picking out an outfit, I headed downstairs for breakfast. To my shock, Miguel was already sitting in our opulent living room. He was wearing a sharp, tailored black suit and dark sunglasses, looking like something out of a James Bond movie. With his broad shoulders and towering height, the suit made him look incredibly elegant, distant, and intimidatingly professional. But it was all a facade. Only I knew how wild and feral the man beneath the tailored wool really was. My mom was beaming at him. “Hazel, I just had the loveliest chat with Mr. Sinclair here. Knowing he’s looking after you makes me feel so much better. I told him he can keep his apartment rent-free permanently. I’m taking it off the market.” “Great.” I nodded, grabbing a piece of toast. After breakfast, Miguel drove me to the Downtown Studio for rehearsals. He didn’t have training today, so he was on full-time bodyguard duty. While I danced, he sat quietly in the corner, his dark eyes tracking my every move. When practice wrapped, I walked over, panting, and took the water bottle he held out for me. His eyes were blazing as his large hand settled casually on my waist. “Hazel, it makes sense now. You’re a dancer. That’s why you’re so unbelievably flexible.” The System had absolutely zero chill. “Location: Dance Studio. Prop: Wall-length mirror. Action: Conquer. Reward: Defense points. Do we have an understanding, Host?” Yeah. I understood perfectly. Over the next few weeks, my Defense stat rocketed from 20 to 80. But a gnawing anxiety was building in my chest. I couldn’t shake the creeping sensation that eyes were watching me from the shadows. 11 Before I knew it, it was the night of Tedd’s massive arena tour. I was scheduled to lead the opening number and perform a solo during the grand finale. After wrapping up the explosive opening act, I had a brutal two-hour wait in my private dressing room. Miguel had been my shadow all day. As soon as the opening act ended, I practically sprinted back to my room. I was wearing a gorgeous, glittering mermaid-style gown, but I needed to change out of it for the intermission. I stepped behind the velvet privacy curtain to unzip it, but I couldn’t reach the clasp between my shoulder blades. I pulled the curtain back just a fraction and peeked out. I curled a finger at Miguel. “Hey. Come help me with this zipper.” Miguel had been slouching in a leather armchair. He stood up instantly and closed the distance. He stepped up behind me. He was a full head taller. He rested his chin softly on the top of my head, and his arms wrapped securely around my waist. His dark eyes met mine in the reflection of the vanity mirror. The air in the tiny space crackled with electricity. He lowered his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Hazel, you are an absolute vision.” The stubble on his jaw tickled my neck. I squirmed slightly in his grip. “Funny you say that. The solo I’m performing tonight is literally titled ‘The Vision.’” Miguel’s voice dropped to a dangerous rasp. “Stop moving. If you keep grinding against me, I can’t guarantee I’m going to behave.” I stood perfectly still, a smirk playing on my lips. “Just unzip the dress. I need to change.” “Right.” The zipper slid down, exposing the smooth, pale skin of my back to his burning gaze. The sight of it shattered whatever restraint he had left. “I’m going to go find some ice water.” Miguel gritted his teeth, tearing his eyes away and turning to leave the changing area. The System screeched. “Emergency Mission: Perform a private dance for Miguel in this dressing room.” My eyes widened. What? Right here? Behind the curtain? There was barely enough room to spin, let alone do an actual routine. While I hesitated, the System added, “The reward tonight is a massive Defense boost. You are going to need it, Host. If you fail this mission, you will regret it for the rest of your life.” The sinister warning made my blood run cold. Was the System trying to tell me I was going to be attacked tonight? My Defense stat was sitting at 80. I just needed 20 more points to max it out. Now was not the time to play it safe. I grabbed Miguel’s wrist before he could pull the curtain aside. “Wait. Don’t go.” Miguel turned back, his eyes dark and heavy with unspoken desire. “What? I thought you were changing.” I went up on my tiptoes, pressing my lips dangerously close to his ear. “Do you want to see me dance?” Before the words even left my mouth, a massive, scalding-hot hand gripped my waist. “Yes.” 12 “The Vision” was a highly emotional, sensual contemporary piece designed to be performed alongside Tedd playing a grand piano. The entire premise of the routine required the dancer to use every ounce of her allure to tempt and seduce Tedd while he played. Tedd was the biggest pop star in the country. His brand was built on being the cool, untouchable prince. The choreography was supposed to show him remaining completely unfazed while a breathtaking siren tried to break his focus. The small velvet loveseat in the changing area became the piano. Miguel sat down heavily on the cushions. I pulled out my phone and hit play on the instrumental track. Miguel reached up and loosened his black silk tie, his eyes locked onto my body as I began to move. Every beat, every sway of my hips, every agonizingly slow body roll felt like I was plucking the strings of his sanity. As the music swelled to a climax, the cold, composed bodyguard persona completely shattered. His eyes were practically black. “You’re going to go out there and do this right in front of Tedd?” I nodded slowly, still holding a pose. “Yeah.” He let out a low, rough breath. “I’m going to lose my mind with jealousy. You’re going to have to make it up to me.” “I will,” I whispered, closing the distance and throwing everything I had into keeping him happy. It worked flawlessly. I lost track of time. Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Panic seized me. I threw myself into Miguel’s arms, my voice trembling. “Someone’s coming.” “Relax. Why are you shaking?” Miguel’s lips curled into an arrogant smirk. How was I supposed to relax? The heavy dressing room door swung open, and Tedd’s voice filled the room. “Hazel? Are you in here?” The velvet curtain of the changing area didn’t touch the floor. There was a two-inch gap at the bottom. If he looked closely, he would see four feet instead of two. My heart hammered against my ribs. I forced my voice to sound casual, though it shook slightly. “I’m changing! Do you need something?” “You dropped an earring during the opening number. One of the stagehands found it. I figured I’d bring it to you before I have to go back on.” Tedd’s footsteps moved closer to the velvet curtain.

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1 It was the fifth year of sharing my wife with another man. Every year, she set aside exactly one day for me. The rest of her time belonged to him. I stared at her back as she stood by the entryway, the silence stretching between us until I finally found my voice. “Can you please just end things with him? Can we focus on our marriage for once?” I ran the entire household. I paid the bills, managed the chores, and took care of her ailing father. She never once asked how I was doing. Her entire world revolved around Ashton. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her face twisting into a look of pure exhaustion and disgust. “This house is nothing but mortgages and bills, Nate. It suffocates me. There is no joy left here. But Ashton is different. He is gentle, attentive, and he actually understands how hard I work. Is it really a crime for me to want a little escape from this misery?” I let out a bitter, silent laugh. The harmony they shared only existed because they didn’t have to deal with the harsh reality of daily life. If that was what she wanted, I would let her go. I had my own life to live; I was done waiting for a storm that would never clear. She remained standing in the entryway, showing no intention of staying. Swallowing the last of my pride, I forced down the bitterness in my throat. “Just stay tonight. For me. Let’s try to make this work, please?” If she said yes, I was willing to forgive everything. But Valerie kept her face turned away, her brow furrowing with irritation. “Ashton and I are too deep into this to end it now. Trying to force us apart won’t do anyone any good.” She pushed the door open, pausing on the threshold. “And stop playing the victim. You knew when you married me that I wasn’t the type to be chained to a kitchen sink.” The door slammed shut behind her, the heavy sound echoing through the empty hall. I stood there, a humorless smile tugging at my lips. She had been the one to spark our romance, showering me with affection and taking care of everything in the beginning. When did our home become a prison she was desperate to escape? My phone buzzed. It was a message from Ashton. The attached photo showed him sitting in the passenger seat of Valerie’s car, their fingers tightly intertwined. [Five years, Nate, and you still can’t keep her for a single day. Thank you for being so useless. We’re going on a road trip to the coast.] I sank into the couch, tossing the phone face down. Looking at the calendar, where today’s date was circled in red ink, a hollow laugh escaped my chest. Tears slipped down my cheeks. Today was our wedding anniversary, the only day she came home. I had been up since four in the morning, preparing a table full of her favorite dishes and putting on the tailored shirt she had gifted me, hoping against hope that she would choose our family. But she left to watch the ocean with Ashton. My phone rang again, this time a FaceTime call from my father. I rubbed my eyes and answered. His face filled the screen as he squinted at the empty room behind me. “Valerie didn’t stay? She went back to that parasite?” I didn’t answer, and my silence was confession enough. He sighed heavily. “People are like that, Nate. It’s been five years. Just keep your head down and take care of the house. In time, she’ll realize how good she has it.” He paused. “Our neighbor’s son got a divorce last year, and people still talk behind his back.” In the corner of the screen, my mother sat silently on a stool, her face tight. The words about not being able to do this anymore died in my throat. I hung up, changed out of my nice clothes, and scraped the untouched dinner into the trash. Five years of humiliation, five years of playing the third wheel in my own marriage. I was done. This house was no longer my home. Within hours, Ashton posted a gallery of photos on social media. The caption read: [Shoutout to my queen for spoiling me like a prince.] It felt like a slap in the face. In the photos, his skin looked flawless against his bright red suit. I looked at my own reflection in the mirror. I was only thirty, but my face was sallow and my eyes were hollow. I had destroyed myself for a woman who didn’t care if I breathed. Before I could even close the app, a demanding text from Valerie popped up. [My dad was admitted to the hospital. Go check on him.] A flood of conflicting emotions washed over me. I despised her cruelty, but her father was an innocent old man who shouldn’t suffer because of our failing marriage. I swallowed the bitterness, grabbed a jacket, and rushed out. It took me an hour and a half to reach the hospital. Just as I reached for the door handle of the private room, the sound of laughter from inside stopped me cold. “Ashton, you two have fun and don’t worry about me,” her father’s voice boomed. “Nate is holding down the fort at home, and I’ll have him handle everything here at the hospital. You guys enjoy the ocean air, relax, and focus on giving me a grandchild.” Ashton’s soft voice followed. “Arthur, are you sure we aren’t putting too much on Nate? I’d hate to be a burden.” Her father clarified immediately. “What burden? He’s the son-in-law. It’s his job to take care of the family.” I stood frozen in the corridor, a chill running through my veins. Five years of exhausting myself, catering to their every whim, and they viewed it as my duty. I was nothing but unpaid labor to them. I pushed the door open. Her father’s laughter died on his lips, and he hastily hung up the video call. “Nate, what took you so long?” He was too used to my submissive nature for any guilt to linger. “Now that you’re here, go settle the bill at the front desk and fill out the inpatient paperwork.” I looked at him, my expression blank. Over the years, whenever his chronic illness flared up, I was the one who pulled all-nighters in the emergency room. Even when I was burning up with a fever, I never missed a shift. Valerie was always too busy with Ashton. And they had come to expect it. “Call your daughter,” I said quietly. He gaped at me in disbelief. “What did you say? You’re the son-in-law, how dare you…” I didn’t listen to his shouting. I turned around and walked out. Once outside, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. It was answered almost instantly. “Finally decided to call me? Did you finally wake up?” “Yeah,” I said, a little embarrassed. “Do you still have a spot for me?” Dylan let out a loud laugh. “Man, it’s about time! You’re always welcome here.” Fortunately, it wasn’t too late. The moment I hung up, Valerie’s texts started flooding my screen. [Nate, my dad said you just walked out?] [What is your problem? I work myself to the bone to provide for this family, and this is how you repay me?] [Get back to the hospital right now. If anything happens to him, it’s on you.] I stared at the screen, let out a dry laugh, and blocked her number before deleting the contact entirely. I was done being her safety net. Back at the house, I began packing my bags. Valerie rarely came home, but her things occupied every corner, her baseball bats, her skis, her fishing rods, all kept meticulously dust-free. Yet, after living here for five years, my own belongings didn’t even fill a single carry-on suitcase. I remembered when she first brought me to this house, promising to make it a haven for me. Now, all her warmth was reserved for Ashton, leaving me with nothing but empty rooms. Once my bag was zipped, I sat at the laptop and began tallying our expenses over the last five years. The monthly mortgage, her father’s medical bills, surgeries, utilities, and groceries totaled well over two hundred thousand dollars. The numbers on the screen were staggering. Over the same period, Valerie had contributed less than eighty thousand. Whenever I had asked her for help, she had accused me of suffocating her, running back to Ashton and leaving me with the bills. To keep us afloat, I had taken night shifts at a local convenience store. I had drained my youth and my savings to maintain this illusion of a home while she rented out an entire boutique hotel to celebrate Ashton’s birthday. The memory stung like an open wound. I saved copies of every bill, bank transfer, and medical receipt. As I finished saving the files, the front door clicked open. It was Valerie. Thanks to her father’s hospitalization, I was seeing her for the second time in a week. Her eyes swept over my suitcase, but she didn’t look concerned. “Are you done throwing your tantrum? My dad is in a hospital bed, and you walk out just to force me to come home and coax you?” I looked at her, suddenly too exhausted to argue. “Believe whatever you want.” She grabbed my wrist, trying to drag me toward the door. “Get in the car. We’re going to the hospital so you can apologize to my dad.” I stumbled, nearly losing my footing, but she didn’t seem to care. I yanked my arm back, my wrist scraping against the edge of the console table. A dull ache throbbed under my skin. “Why should I apologize? If you love Ashton so much, why don’t you have him take care of your dad?” I was practically shouting now, my voice trembling. Valerie stared at me, astonished. “You’re my husband, Nate. Why would I ask anyone else? If you were just a little more understanding, like Ashton, we wouldn’t have to live like this.” I looked at her with absolute calm. “We won’t have to anymore. We are done. I want a divorce.” A flicker of amusement crossed Valerie’s eyes. “A divorce? You’ve been a homemaker for five years, Nate. You have no job, no income, and I’ve been supporting you this entire time. You wouldn’t even survive a month on your own. Stop embarrassing yourself.” She was too familiar with my past obedience, confident that I had nowhere else to go. She kicked my suitcase lightly. “I’ll let this slide. Unpack your things, and go take care of my dad tomorrow. Don’t push your luck.” With that, she slammed the door and walked out. I watched her leave, then pulled out my phone to send my location to Dylan. [Dylan, I need a divorce. Can you draft the paperwork for me?] For five years, he had begged me to cut my losses and leave. I had been too stubborn to listen. Dylan replied instantly: [I’m on it.] We met at a quiet diner down the street. The moment he saw me, he pulled me into a tight hug. “I’ll handle the filing and the asset division, Nate. We’re going to get back every single penny she owes you.” He opened his laptop, typing rapidly. “We can trace all household expenses, the mortgage payments you covered, and her father’s medical bills. She’s been cheating and emotionally abusive, so we have all the leverage.” I nodded, sending him the folder of receipts. Dylan quickly drafted the agreement and turned the screen toward me. “Take a look. If it looks good, I’ll print it, and we can file it at city hall tomorrow.” But when I looked up our marriage certificate number on the county portal to verify the details, a red warning box popped up on the screen: [Record not found. Invalid registration number.] I thought it was a glitch. I refreshed the page and re-entered the details, but the result was the same. Dylan noticed my frozen expression and leaned in. “What’s wrong?” I stared at the screen, my mind completely blank. “Dylan, our marriage certificate… it’s a fake.” Dylan snatched the paper from my hands. As a seasoned legal professional, it took him only a few seconds to spot the forgery. “That piece of garbage. She lied to you for five years. Don’t worry, this is fraud. I’ll get you every cent of your assets and emotional damages.” I walked back to the apartment in a daze, the weight of the last five years crashing down on me. I had sacrificed everything for a forged document, playing the dutiful husband in a marriage that never existed. I logged into my banking app, turned off the automatic payments for the mortgage, the utilities, and her father’s medical accounts. I placed my keys on the entryway table and walked out of the prison that had held me for five years, never looking back.

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1 Because of my scars, my brother and my fiancé forbade me from ever taking off my veil. Every stunning profile shot the media managed to capture of the mysterious pianist was attributed to my sister. Everyone believed she was the prodigy, the genius behind the alias Luna. But tonight, I decided to finally take off my veil at the awards ceremony and reveal my true self. My brother blocked my path. “Darcy, can you just let your sister accept the award for you? She doesn’t have much time left. Her only wish in this life is to stand in the spotlight just once.” A cold chill settled in my chest. This was the fifth year in a row he had used that exact excuse. I turned to look at my fiancé, hoping for some support. Instead, he frowned. “What? You’re not willing to do this for her?” “Kelly’s illness is so severe. Why can’t you just make her dream come true? You can always explain the truth to the public later.” He handed me a small jewelry box. “Actually, I was planning to propose to you tonight. If you let your sister have her moment, this ring is yours.” “Darcy, don’t be so selfish.” My lips twitched into a bitter smile. I held the tiny, pathetic diamond ring in my palm, remembering the drawer I had accidentally opened in my sister’s room two days ago. Inside was a ring identical in design, but ten times the size. I took a step back. This time, I was done giving things up. Hank raised his voice in front of all the backstage staff. “Darcy, say that again?” I met his gaze. “I said, I’m going up there to accept my award myself.” Hank took a step forward, towering over me. His finger practically brushed the tip of my nose. “Your sister has one final wish, and you won’t even give her that? Darcy, do you have a single shred of decency left in you?” Kelly rose slowly from her makeup chair. She wore a champagne-colored silk gown, her long hair pinned up in an elegant, intricate bun. She looked like she had spent hours preparing for this very stage. She dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Hank, don’t press her,” she said softly. “It’s just my bad luck. I shouldn’t have expected so much from life anyway. We all have to leave this world with some regrets.” Her head dropped, her shoulders trembling with quiet, delicate sobs. Hank’s eyes welled with tears of pity. He pulled her into a tight, protective embrace. “Don’t talk like that! You are not going to die. I’ll find you the best doctors in the world. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, and if you want to stand on that stage, I will make sure you do!” He glared back at me, his eyes full of cold authority. “Darcy, you’re young. You’ll have plenty of chances to win awards in the future. Does this single night really matter to you? Your sister doesn’t have that luxury.” Does this single night really matter? I had heard that exact line for five long years. Last year, I fell in love with an antique necklace at an auction. Kelly saw it and said she liked it too. Without a second thought, Hank took it and clasped it around Kelly’s neck. “Darcy, you look beautiful in anything. Let your sister have this one. She’s sick and depressed, let’s just make her happy.” When our parents passed away and left me their house, Kelly casually mentioned she wanted to live there. Hank took my keys and handed them to her on the spot. “Darcy, Kelly’s health is fragile. Living in the old house makes it easier to get to the hospital. Just let her have it. Does it really matter where you sleep?” For years, every time I yielded, Kelly’s illness would miraculously improve for a couple of days. Then, it would take a sudden turn for the worse, repeating the cycle until my next sacrifice. It was an endless, exhausting drain, squeezing every drop of life out of me. “Darcy!” Another voice cut through the air. Jared, my fiancé, stormed over and grabbed my wrist. “Have you lost your mind?” His grip was so tight my bones ached. “I am perfectly sane,” I replied, staring him down. “Look in a mirror! Have you forgotten what you look like?” He scoffed. “Who else could ever stand looking at a face like yours? If you go out on that stage, are you accepting an award, or are you just trying to humiliate both of us?” I froze. He called me ugly. He called me an embarrassment. But who was the reason my face was scarred in the first place? 2 Ten years ago, on a sweltering summer afternoon, Jared took me out to the countryside to paint. We stood on a crumbling, abandoned stone bridge. He was busy capturing the scenery, while I watched from his side. The bridge had been neglected for decades. Suddenly, the stone beneath his feet gave way, and he began to slip backward over the edge. Without thinking, I lunged forward and shoved him toward safety. He tumbled onto the grass, scraping nothing but his knees. I plunged into the jagged ravine below. A rusted iron rod tore through my left cheek, ripping the flesh open from my cheekbone down to my jaw. Blood soaked the earth. The surgeon had to use thirty-seven stitches to put my face back together. After that day, a hideous, jagged scar became a permanent fixture on my left cheek. Jared had knelt by my hospital bed, weeping, swearing he would love me forever, that he would never care about my scars, and that he owed me his life. But promises fade. Human hearts rot. I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “Jared, you’re using my face to hurt me?” A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by his usual, patronizing coldness. “I’m only looking out for you. The internet will tear you to pieces. You’ll be crying before the night is over. Darcy, try to have some self-awareness.” I trembled, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I forced them back. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the velvet box, popped it open, and looked at the cheap, pathetic ring inside. The diamond was so small and poorly cut it resembled a piece of broken glass. I laughed softly, tossing the box back into his chest. “Think whatever you want,” I said. “I don’t want to marry you anymore anyway. And tonight, I am going up on that stage to claim my own award.” I turned on my heel. Jared lunged, grabbing my arm and pulling me back so hard I nearly lost my balance. “What the hell is wrong with you? There’s a limit to how much of a tantrum you can throw!” I sneered at him. “Jared, tell me the truth. Did you actually buy this ring for me? Or did you buy a real one for Kelly and just toss me the free gift?” His face stiffened. The ring was indeed laughably tiny. Two days ago, I had found an identical box in Kelly’s vanity. But the diamond in her drawer was ten times the size of mine. At the time, I found it strange. But later, I saw an advertisement for that exact jewelry store. The Collector’s Edition. Limited to one piece worldwide. Value: Eight million dollars. Limited to one piece. That meant the eight-million-dollar ring was sitting in Kelly’s drawer, while the scrap of glass in my hand was likely nothing more than a complimentary token. Exposed, Jared’s expression turned defensive, but he quickly assumed his usual high-and-mighty posture. “What are you talking about? I just thought your features were… a bit delicate, too understated to carry such a massive stone. It would look out of place on you. I didn’t mean it as an insult. Delicate is a compliment. Stop acting up. If you really want a big one, I’ll buy you one later.” He dismissed it so easily. Of course he would. He was rich enough to throw money around without a care. Last year, when Kelly claimed she was having trouble breathing, he spent fifty million dollars to charter a private jet and fly in a world-renowned team of respiratory specialists. The doctors spent three days running tests only to conclude there was no physical issue, suggesting she simply needed rest. Fifty million dollars, gone in the blink of an eye. The year before that, Kelly wanted to see the Northern Lights. He leased a private jet and flew her halfway across the globe. When they returned, Kelly claimed she was exhausted and her condition had worsened, prompting him to spend tens of millions more on consultants. Again, they found nothing. Over the years, he had poured over a hundred million dollars into Kelly’s endless whims. But for me, he couldn’t even buy a proper engagement ring. Seeing my stubborn refusal, Kelly chimed in from behind, her voice dripping with artificial distress. “Darcy, please don’t be mad at Hank and Jared. It’s all my fault. I’ll tell them right now that I don’t feel well and won’t go on stage. Jared… my chest feels so tight… I think it’s happening again…” Frantic footsteps scrambled behind me. The steps leading to the main stage were right in front of me. I lifted my foot to take the first step— Suddenly, a rush of cold, viscous liquid poured over the back of my head. It drenched my collar, trickled down my neck, and soaked my entire back. The sharp, chemical stench of red paint filled my nose, clinging thick and heavy to my skin. I froze. Hank stood behind me, holding an empty paint bucket. “Hank?” My voice was choked, barely a whisper. “Now you don’t have time to go on stage, do you?” Hank’s eyes reflected my pale, paint-streaked face. “Just let Kelly take your place. The credit is still yours, and since Kelly is beautiful, everyone will praise Luna as a goddess. Even if you explain the truth later, the public will only admire you for being such a loving, supportive sister.” He patted my shoulder gently. “I’m older than you, Darcy. I’ve walked more roads than you’ve eaten grains of salt. Stop being so stubborn. Listen to your brother and go change your clothes.” 3 I couldn’t understand when my brother had become such a monster. When we were kids, he had climbed over a tall brick wall just to get me a candied apple, scraping his knee raw in the process. I remember crying and asking him, “Does it hurt, Hank?” He hadn’t shed a single tear. He just pressed the sweet treat into my hands and grinned. “Not at all. As long as Darcy is happy, it doesn’t hurt.” Later, to buy me a birthday present—a giant, expensive teddy bear—he worked grueling shifts at a construction site, hauling drywall until his hands were covered in bloody blisters. He never complained. Now, a stage manager wearing a headset ran over. Seeing me drenched in red paint, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Miss Darcy? What happened to you? Thank goodness we still have time. The awards ceremony has been delayed by an hour due to a technical glitch. Let me find you a spare dress to change into.” He turned to fetch a dress, but a heavy hand gripped his shoulder. Jared had walked up, his face dark with fury. “Who told you to interfere?” Jared grabbed the manager by the collar, pulling him so hard the veins on the man’s neck bulged. “Mr. Jared, I… I was just trying to help Miss Darcy. Her dress is ruined.” “Go to HR and collect your final paycheck. You’re fired,” Jared said, pointing toward the exit. “Now get out of my hotel.” This venue belonged to one of Jared’s luxury hotels. Here, his word was law. The stage manager realized there was no point in arguing. His lips trembled, but he slowly took off his vest, bowed his head, and walked away. Before he walked out the door, he turned back to look at me. There was no anger in his eyes—only a deep, sorrowful pity. I clenched my fists. “Jared, you fired an innocent man just to coddle Kelly? This is his livelihood! He has a family to support!” Before Jared could snap back, Kelly pressed a hand to her forehead, groaning softly. “Please, don’t fight because of me. I really don’t feel well. I don’t want to go up there anymore. Darcy, let me take you back to the dressing room so we can clean you up and rest.” As if possessed, I followed her into the private suite. “Take a seat, Darcy.” I remained standing. Kelly walked over to the vanity, picking up a bottle of expensive perfume and casually spritzing it. Her movements were smooth and graceful, showing none of the weakness she had feigned moments ago. “Darcy, stop fighting it. We’re only doing what’s best for you, aren’t we?” She stopped in front of me, reaching out a hand as if to touch my scarred cheek. I flinched away. “Kelly, they’ve favored you for years. Why do you have to steal the only thing I have left?” Her hand hovered in the air before slowly dropping back to her side. The sweet smile on her face flickered for a brief second, then returned, sharper this time. “Because I hate you.” Before the words fully left her mouth, she suddenly stumbled backward, throwing herself to the floor. With a dull thud, she crashed onto the carpet, clutching her knee and letting out a piercing, agonized shriek. Before I could even process what she was doing, the door to the dressing room was thrown open. 4 Jared and Hank rushed in. Seeing Kelly sprawled on the floor, their faces twisted in panic. “Kelly!” “What happened? Are you okay?” Kelly clung to Jared’s chest, her tears flowing freely. “It was my fault… I lost my balance and tripped… It has nothing to do with Darcy…” Despite her words, her fingers gripped Jared’s sleeve so hard her knuckles turned white, her body shivering like a leaf in a storm. Jared looked up at me, his eyes burning with venom. “Darcy, have you lost your mind? Your sister is incredibly sick, and you pushed her?” “I didn’t touch her.” “I saw it with my own eyes!” Hank roared. “You were standing right next to her! Who else could have pushed her?” One wiped her tears, while the other patted her back. It was a pathetic, rehearsed drama they had performed a thousand times. “Darcy,” Hank said, picking Kelly up in his arms, his eyes filled with pure disgust. “Heaven knew how ugly your soul was, and that’s why it gave you such a hideous face.” Jared supported Kelly’s other side, murmuring softly to soothe her. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine. If you don’t get better, I won’t even think about marriage. I’ll put my wedding with Darcy on hold. Don’t worry about it.” Kelly offered a tearful, delicate smile, her voice soft as silk. “Don’t say that, Jared. Darcy will be heartbroken.” “Then you need to get well quickly,” Jared said, squeezing her hand. “I can’t have my wedding without my beautiful maid of honor.” Their voices drifted down the corridor. Under the harsh hallway lights, their three shadows stretched and merged into one, looking like a perfect, exclusive family. I stood alone in the empty dressing room, staring at my reflection. The sticky red paint was drying on my hair, my veil, and my dress. I looked like a stray dog drenched in blood. The scar on my left cheek stood out prominently, looking like a jagged, red centipede crawling across my skin. Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. A junior staff member walked in, carrying a fresh dress. “Miss Darcy… it’s time for you to go on stage. Let me take you to the washroom to clean up first.” I wiped my face and followed him. He led me down one corridor after another, turning into increasingly isolated, dimly lit wings of the building. The crowds vanished. I stopped walking. “Where are you taking me?” The staff member turned around, his face tight with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Miss Darcy. Mr. Jared ordered that this door remain locked until the ceremony is completely over.” He pushed open an unmarked wooden door, revealing a dusty utility closet packed with old sound equipment, discarded backdrops, and cardboard boxes. “Please wait here. It won’t be long.” With a heavy click, the door locked from the outside. 5 I sat on a dusty box, my knees pressed against my chest, staring blankly at a small monitor mounted on the wall. It was a backup screen connected to the security feed of the main stage. The lights dimmed, and the host took the microphone. Under the dazzling spotlight, to the sound of thunderous applause, Kelly walked out onto the stage. She wore my dress. She wore my veil. With effortless grace, she accepted the crystal trophy, bowing elegantly to the crowd. The moment she unveiled her face, a collective gasp echoed through the auditorium. “My God, she’s gorgeous!” “An absolute angel!” “No wonder she kept her face hidden. What a waste to keep that beauty in the dark!” “We love you, Luna!” They chanted my name, but they cheered for her face. I felt as though every drop of blood had been drained from my body. I slumped to the cold floor, entirely hollow. The ceremony wrapped up quickly. Wiping the tears from my face, a sudden realization struck me—I couldn’t just sit here and take this. I reached into my pocket. My phone was still there. I opened my social media app, logged into the official account that had millions of followers, and began to type: My name is Darcy. The person who just accepted the award was my sister, not me. I am currently locked in a backstage utility room, and this was all planned by— Before I could hit post, the door was thrown open. Hank charged in, snatching the phone straight out of my hands. He stared at the draft, his face turning an angry shade of purple. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to ruin your sister?” “I am taking back what belongs to me!” I screamed, utterly hysterical. “Hank, you can’t just steal my life and hand it to her!” “I never said you couldn’t clarify things later!” Hank bellowed back. “But you have to wait! If you post this now, the entire world will tear her apart! She can’t handle that kind of stress! She’ll die, Darcy! How can you be so heartless to your own sick sister?” “What about me?” my voice cracked. “I’m locked in a closet like trash! Does anyone care about me?” Hank scoffed. “Can’t you just wait a little while? You’ve waited years, what’s a few more weeks?” “I’m not waiting another second,” I said coldly. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Fine.” “If you insist on posting this, Jared and I will both go public and call you a liar and an impostor. Who do you think the world will believe?” My vision blurred, the room spinning around me. My own brother was willing to commit perjury just to destroy my reputation and protect her lie. Jared stepped into the room behind him, looking thoroughly annoyed. He took the trophy from Kelly, who had slipped in behind them, and tossed it carelessly at my feet like a piece of garbage. “Isn’t this what you wanted anyway? Now you have it. What more do you want?” “If you want to throw a fit, do it here. We’re going out to celebrate.” The door slammed shut, and the utility room plunged back into darkness. I don’t know how much time passed before an elderly cleaning lady opened the door with a master key to clear out some trash. Seeing me sitting on the floor, she gasped in horror. “Oh, child! What on earth happened to you?” My eyelashes fluttered, heavy with dried paint. “Could I borrow your phone, please?” Without hesitation, she handed it over. I opened a travel app and booked the very next flight to Europe. The moment the booking was confirmed, a single tear fell onto the screen, smudging the digital ticket. I thanked her, using the wall to pull myself up. “Wait, dear.” The cleaning lady stopped near the corner, bending down to pick up the crystal trophy. She wiped the dust off with her rag and looked up. “Is this yours? Don’t leave it behind.” My name was engraved on the base. The gold letters glinted under the dim hallway light. I stared at it. “I don’t want it anymore.”

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