Category: English

A week before my wedding, my fiancé Johnny’s late wife’s sister—the one with Storm Syndrome—ran my car off the road, pinning it against the bridge guardrail. She rammed me eighteen times at seventy-five miles an hour. When Johnny arrived with the ambulance, I was being pulled from a heap of twisted metal. But he ignored me. He wrenched open the door of the modified Hummer—a vehicle that had barely lost its bumper—and pulled a trembling Nina into his arms. “Dr. Croft, she’s in bad shape,” one of the paramedics said, gesturing to me. “We need to get her to the hospital now.” Johnny blocked my stretcher, his eyes giving me a quick, dismissive scan. “There’s not a drop of blood on her. It’s just superficial. Nina has Storm Syndrome, and the rain’s getting worse. Her condition is more critical. Take her first.” As they left me behind, I curled into a ball, my fingers weakly clutching at Johnny’s coat. He frowned, prying my hand away. “Nina didn’t mean to hit you. She was having an episode. You’re a doctor, Andrea. You should have some compassion for a patient.” Then, he pulled a legal waiver from his pocket, took my limp hand, and forced my signature onto the paper. “The next ambulance will be here soon,” he said. “Just hang on.” 1 I never made it to the next ambulance. When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in the air. The cold rain soaked the body that lay abandoned below, and I reached out, wanting to hug myself for warmth, but my arms passed straight through. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, I was dead. Johnny was right about one thing: I was a doctor. I knew exactly what eighteen impacts at seventy-five miles per hour meant. It meant Nina never intended for me to survive. And yet he, the renowned Chief of Internal Medicine at Bridgewater General, could determine with a single glance that I had nothing more than a few scratches. I should have known better than to hold on to any hope. When it came to Nina, nothing else mattered. Not even my life. In the distance, the wail of another siren grew closer. Paramedics leaped from the vehicle, sprinting through the downpour towards me. I watched as they loaded my body, limp as a ragdoll, onto a stretcher. I heard their frantic shouts, the constant injections of epinephrine, the rhythmic whine and shock of the defibrillator. None of it could stop the flat line on the heart monitor. “Tell dispatch to clear a path!” the lead paramedic yelled. “Notify the hospital to prep for surgery! Patient is critical!” But the nurse’s three calls to the hospital were all rejected. Her eyes reddened with fury and frustration. “What the hell? Isn’t Dr. Vance his fiancée? How can he divert all hospital resources to a woman who doesn’t even have a scratch on her?” Her voice broke with a sob. “Dr. Vance is dying.” A heavy silence fell over the ambulance crew. They all knew. At the Croft family’s hospital, a private, high-end suite was permanently reserved for Nina. She was the sister of Johnny’s late wife. She’d supposedly watched her sister get brutally murdered during a storm while trying to save her, and ever since, she’d suffered from severe Storm Syndrome. Every time it rained, she would have a complete breakdown, and only Johnny’s presence could calm her. As his fiancée, I had been forced to reschedule our wedding ten times because of Nina’s “episodes.” I had finally snapped. “She has an ‘episode’ if it drizzles, another one if there’s a clap of thunder. Are you sure she really sees you as just a brother-in-law?” The sting of Johnny’s slap surprised even him. He looked away, his face rigid. “If you can’t accept Nina, then this marriage isn’t set in stone.” I stared at him, a sharp pain piercing my heart. I tilted my head back, fighting it, but tears streamed down my face anyway. After three days of his cold shoulder, I caved. I had planned a surprise for him, a way to make up. But on my way to the hospital to find him, Nina had rammed my car until I was dead. My memories as a soul were fragmented, flickering. I felt like I’d forgotten something important. But my spirit was already drifting uncontrollably, pulled toward Johnny. In the VIP suite, the room was so crowded with white coats you could hardly see the floor. “Dr. Croft, the tests show Miss Nina is perfectly fine. You can rest assured,” a specialist reported. But even with a room full of experts guaranteeing her safety, Nina clung to Johnny, her eyes red and puffy as she trembled. “Johnny… the rain is so loud. There are bad people out there… I’m scared…” Just as Johnny was about to reply, his phone rang. It was my colleague from the surgical department. The moment Nina saw the caller ID, she shrieked, snatched the phone, and smashed it against the floor. “Bad people! Andrea is a bad person! She wants to kill me! Help me, Johnny, save me!” Forgetting the phone completely, Johnny wrapped his arms around the hysterical girl, his heart aching for her. “Shh, Nina, it’s okay. Andrea won’t come here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Nina buried her face in his chest, her arms tightening around his neck as she sobbed and laughed. “Don’t leave me, Johnny. Stay with me forever. You’re mine, only mine. Andrea is trying to steal you. She’s evil. She should just die…” “Alright,” he murmured, patting her back, soothing her until she cried herself to sleep. “She’s evil. She can die.” Back in his office, he pulled the shattered phone from his pocket, the screen cracked and dark. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. He was about to use his desk phone to ask about me when a nurse rushed in. “Dr. Croft, we have an emergency surgery. A car crash victim, multiple organ ruptures. They need you immediately.” Johnny started to stand, then paused. “What’s the weather forecast?” he asked. The nurse checked her phone. “Rain all day. Looks like it’ll last for the next two days.” He nodded, settling back into his chair. “Have Dr. Peterson take it. Tell them I have a patient here I can’t leave. And cancel all my appointments for the next two days.” “But, sir,” the nurse hesitated, speaking softly, “you’re the only one here who has successfully performed this procedure.” Johnny’s voice turned to ice. “Can this hospital not function without me? Now get out. For the next two days, don’t bother me with anything or anyone unless it concerns Nina.” The nurse wanted to say more, but she left, defeated. I huddled in the corner, blinking. Something warm trickled from my eyes. It felt like blood, or maybe tears. Trapped in the crushed car, all I could think was: Johnny, this wedding you never wanted… just like you wished, it’s not happening anymore. For the next two days, Johnny stayed by Nina’s side twenty-four-seven, catering to her every whim, coddling her endlessly. In the quiet moments of the night, he would sometimes pull out his dead phone and press the useless power button. I knew what he was thinking. I, who had loved him more than life itself, had never gone two days without contacting him. Even during our worst fights, I was always the one to apologize within hours. This loss of control was making him uneasy. He rubbed his temples, a familiar headache building. He opened his desk drawer, but the custom migraine medication I’d learned to make for him from an old herbalist was gone. He immediately buzzed the nurse’s station. “Has anyone been looking for me?” he asked, his voice tight with irritation. “You canceled all your appointments, sir. No one has come by.” He had given the order himself, but an inexplicable frustration welled up inside him, heavy and suffocating. He slammed the phone down. Shoving the dead device back into the drawer, he slammed it shut. Walking past the nurse’s station later, he paused. He borrowed a nurse’s phone and sent me a text. “Andrea, there’s a limit to this drama. You got bumped a few times, you didn’t even bleed. How dare you play hard to get with me? If you’ve got the guts, then never contact me again.” I floated beside him, a bitter smile on my face. It was my own desperate love that had made him so confident, so certain I could never leave him. But this time, I really was gone for good. That afternoon, the sky cleared. Nina was back to her normal self, her eyes welling with tears as she played the victim. “Johnny, I swear I didn’t know I would lose control and hit Andrea’s car. I should go apologize to her. I’ll do anything she wants, as long as she forgives me.” “It’s fine,” Johnny said, his mind elsewhere. “It looked worse than it was. Not a scratch on you, so she’s probably fine too. She’ll understand it wasn’t your fault.” “But… what if she calls the police?” Johnny smiled, stroking her hair. “Don’t worry. I already had her sign a waiver. It’s over. You have nothing to do with it.” Nina beamed, rubbing her cheek against his hand like a cat, her eyes full of adoration. “I knew you’d take care of me, Johnny.” Her intense gaze seemed to burn him. He snatched his hand back. “Nina, I’m marrying Andrea soon. You shouldn’t call me by my first name like that anymore. You’re still my sister-in-law. Call me Johnny. Andrea will be your sister. We’ll both take care of you.” Nina bit her lip, a flash of malice in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a mask of sweet obedience. As Johnny left the room, he overheard two nurses talking. “Dr. Croft is so devoted to his fiancée. She gets into a little fender-bender and he mobilizes the whole hospital for her. They’re such a perfect couple.” “I know, right? I heard a car crash victim was brought in two days ago, organs completely shredded. Didn’t even have anyone to sign the paperwork for the body. It just goes to show, some people have all the luck.” Johnny frowned, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. “The patient in that room,” he said, his voice strained, “is not my fiancée.” He paused, then added, “My fiancée is Dr. Andrea Vance, from Surgery.” He froze, surprised by his own words. He was Johnny Croft, a man who had never cared for gossip and never bothered to explain himself. Because of that, everyone in the hospital—except for a few colleagues in our respective departments—thought I was just some pathetic, shameless woman clinging to him. His admirers had given me cruel nicknames, thrown hot soup on me. They once cornered me in an empty restroom and dumped a bucket of live frogs over my head, laughing at my screams. They called me a shameless gold-digger reaching for the stars. Countless times, I had begged Johnny to just say something, to clarify our relationship. He always brushed me off. “It’s just words, Andrea. You’re not going to melt. Stop being so dramatic.” But when a new intern had offhandedly remarked that Nina’s Storm Syndrome seemed “a little fake,” that intern vanished from Bridgewater the next day. That’s when I learned that he knew how to protect someone. It just wasn’t me. I clutched at my empty chest, laughing silently until tears streamed down my face. How ironic. The public acknowledgment I had craved my entire relationship, I received so easily in death. Johnny ignored the nurses’ shocked faces, pushing down the rising panic in his chest as he hurried toward his office. He needed to confirm something. Urgently. He nearly collided with Dr. Peterson at the door. “Johnny, you look like you’re in a hurry. Off to see Dr. Vance, I presume?” Johnny froze for a second. Peterson’s words lifted the crushing weight from his heart. His expression hardened into a sneer. “You were the one who took her case?” Dr. Peterson nodded, sighing. “It’s been a while. You should probably go deal with it.” “Deal with what? The fact that she’s milking this for all it’s worth?” Johnny scoffed. “I’ve given her too much slack. It was a minor accident. Nina, who’s a hundred times more fragile, is perfectly fine. Andrea’s built like an ox and she’s pretending to be on her deathbed? She made Nina cry with guilt, and now she has the nerve to send you here to plead her case?” Dr. Peterson stared, dumbfounded. It took him a moment to process what Johnny was saying. A storm of fury gathered in his eyes. He grabbed Johnny by the collar. “I thought you were just quiet, a man of few words. I assumed you at least had a shred of human decency. I never realized you were such a monster.” “You’re an animal, Croft. Andrea falling for you was the worst luck of her life.” “Do you have any idea what happened in that crash? Do you know that Andrea is already…” Johnny shoved him away, disgusted. “Already what? Don’t tell me you’re going to say she’s dead?” Dr. Peterson stood frozen. Seeing his reaction, Johnny’s face twisted into a knowing, sarcastic smirk. “She’d better be. If she thinks pulling a cheap stunt like this will stir up drama and upset Nina, then I hope her wish comes true.” He straightened his collar. “Go tell her she made a mistake and she needs to face the consequences. If I don’t see her apologizing to Nina by tomorrow, the wedding is off.” With that, he turned and left, shattered phone in hand. Dr. Peterson stood behind him, his face pale with rage, and muttered, “Good. A monster like you never deserved a woman like Andrea anyway.” Fuming, Johnny dropped his phone at a repair shop, paid triple the price for a one-hour fix, and went home. “Andrea…” The apartment was silent. No familiar aroma of dinner cooking, no gentle voice answering him. A chilling emptiness wrapped around him as he stood in the doorway. Without even taking off his shoes, he bolted for the bedroom. He saw all my clothes, my skincare products, everything exactly where it should be. Only then did he slump to the floor, a wave of relief washing over him. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips—that familiar, confident smirk I knew so well. He was so sure of my love for him, so certain I would never, ever leave. He pulled out his newly repaired phone and, as if bestowing a great favor, sent me a text. “You’re the one who’s been lying and playing dead, Andrea. Come home and apologize properly, and I’ll forgive you.” The message was met with silence. His face hardened. He sent another. “Reply in thirty minutes, or the wedding is canceled.” Thirty minutes passed. An hour. The silence in the apartment felt thick, heavy, like waterlogged cotton, pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. Just when I thought his patience had finally run out, he stood up, opened the fridge, and started cooking. Half an hour later, three of my favorite dishes were on the table. He took a picture and sent it to me. “I told you I had to help Nina first because she was having an episode. You were barely touched, but she was terrified. Can’t you see what’s more important?” He took a deep breath, as if making a monumental concession. “You don’t have to apologize this time. But don’t let it happen again. We’re about to be married, Andrea. Stop being so childish. Come home. We’ll eat, and then we’ll go get the marriage license.” The moment he sent the text, a call came through. It was Nina, her voice a piercing shriek. “Johnny, Andrea’s trying to kill me! Get away! Help! Aaaah!” When Johnny burst into the hospital room, it was in chaos. A speaker on the nightstand was playing the white noise of a rainstorm on a loop. Nina was huddled in a corner, screaming hysterically anytime someone got near. Johnny rushed over, gathering her into his arms, his heart aching. “Nina, don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Her face was ashen, streaked with tears. “Andrea called me a whore, a homewrecker! She said my sister deserved to die! She sent me this audio, she said if I don’t stay away from you, she’ll make sure I die just like my sister did, tortured and…” “Johnny, I’m so scared! Am I a homewrecker? Are you going to leave me, just like my sister did?” I stared at Nina, stunned by the sheer artistry of her performance. She was the one who had killed me, and now, after my death, she was dragging my name through the mud. I could still see her eyes through the shattered windshield as she slammed the accelerator—colder and more venomous than a snake’s. She wasn’t having an episode. She was perfectly lucid. She wanted me dead. I looked at Johnny, praying that our three years together meant something, that even if he never chose me, he at least knew I wasn’t capable of such cruelty. But I had forgotten. When it came to Nina, I was worth nothing. Johnny’s face was terrifyingly calm. He turned off the white noise and stared at the phone number the text had supposedly come from—my number. His eyes grew colder and colder. He gently lifted Nina, placed her on the bed, and wiped away her tears with a tenderness I had never seen. “You’re not the homewrecker, Nina,” he said softly. “Andrea is.” With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the custom diamond ring we’d chosen together, the one meant to symbolize our ‘one true love,’ the one we were supposed to exchange at our wedding in three days. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slipped it onto Nina’s ring finger. “From now on,” he declared, “you will be my bride.” Nina tried to hide her triumphant glee, feigning panic. “But… Andrea is your fiancée. She’s been waiting to marry you. If I wear her ring, won’t she hate me even more?” “She dares?” Johnny sneered. “If she has the audacity to insult your sister and threaten you, then she’d better be prepared for the consequences.” “Not only am I not marrying her, I’m going to have her blacklisted from the medical community. A person as vile as her doesn’t deserve to wear that white coat.” He immediately pulled out his phone. He sent me one last ultimatum. “You have five minutes to get here and kneel before Nina to apologize.” When no reply came, Johnny’s patience finally snapped. A cruel smile spread across his face. The man who had always disdained using his power and influence was, for Nina, now pulling every string he had. Bypassing all official channels, he used his authority as the heir to the Croft Corporation to issue a nationwide industry ban against me. My entire life’s work—countless sleepless nights, years of relentless effort to earn the career I loved more than anything—was gone. Erased by a single, careless command. Nina finally broke into a radiant smile, nestling contentedly into his arms. “I knew you’d always choose me, Johnny.” Johnny didn’t answer. His hands were clenched around his phone, his face a dark mask as he stared at the screen. He thought this would be enough to force me out of hiding. He didn’t know. I was never coming back. I looked at my translucent hands, fading in the wind. I tried to laugh, but tears flowed like a broken dam, unstoppable. In the end, I had lost my life, my reputation, and now I was nothing but a lost soul, a ghost unable to even escape his orbit. How pathetic. The hospital room was filled with celebration. Everyone was applauding this perfect resolution, offering their congratulations. But then, the door flew open, and a figure stormed in. Before anyone could react, a sharp crack echoed through the room as a hand struck Johnny’s face. “Andrea is already dead! Why won’t you just leave her alone?”

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My cousin, Chloe, wants to go to France to study ballet. My mom asked me for $15,000. I sent her a screenshot of my bank account balance—$15,000.20, not a penny more. Five seconds later, her reply popped up: “Keep $500 for living expenses, send the rest over.” 1 Before my finger even touched the screen, another message from Mom popped up: “By the way, when are you coming back? I’ll make that coconut chicken soup you like.” “My CD matures next month, I’ll pay you back every cent then.” Go home? Actually, I went home yesterday. A classmate got married and had the reception in our hometown. I specifically mentioned this to my mom last week, saying I’d stay the night after the wedding and head back to D.C. the next morning. She agreed enthusiastically on the phone, promising to leave the door unlocked. But when I got to the door, I found it deadbolted from the inside. Just as I was about to knock, Mom’s voice drifted out: “I’ll ask your sister for the money tonight when she gets off work. You just go ahead and sign up for that ballet program, don’t worry.” “Auntie, will Nina agree? It’s $15,000 after all. And you haven’t paid back the other money you borrowed.” “Why wouldn’t she? She’s soft-hearted.” Mom chuckled lightly, a hint of disdain in her voice. “I mean, she’s average-looking and has a bad temper. If she wasn’t making $60k a year now, do you think I’d bother coddling her?” Chloe asked in a cutesy, spoiled voice, “Is that why you bought her an iPhone right after graduation and gave her money?” Mom’s voice suddenly rose: “Silly girl! If I hadn’t waited on her hand and foot after graduation, coaxing her, do you think she would have majored in Computer Science? Remember Mrs. Miller’s son? He went to a state school and only makes $40k. Have you calculated how much all your expenses since graduation add up to?” Mom’s tone was filled with indulgence: “You! My retirement savings are almost gone because of you. If I hadn’t had the foresight to make Nina subsidize the bulk of it, what kind of good life would you have?” Chloe cheered, “Auntie, I knew you loved me more than my own mom! Come with me to New York this time, I’ll take you out for fun!” “You got it! My little sweetie is the best!” The wine I drank at the wedding churned in my stomach. I wanted to throw up but couldn’t. My first reaction was actually to thank myself for never paying to fix this thin, non-soundproof door. I drove back to D.C. overnight. 2 Mom kept texting nonstop, so I just turned off my phone and slept. I went to the office early the next morning. In this world, the only person who won’t betray you is yourself. When it rains, it pours. Around 10:30 AM, my stomach started hurting again. My phone vibrated. Mom’s WeChat messages were like a death warrant. “Why aren’t you replying? What are you doing?” “When can you send that $15,000 we talked about yesterday?” … I replied: “Stomach hurts, talk later.” “Why does your stomach hurt again? I tell you to cook at home, but you insist on eating takeout. Of course your stomach hurts!” I didn’t bother replying. I work overtime every day, where would I find time to cook??? Her fake concern, requiring zero effort while earning her the reputation of a caring mother, was honestly laughable. I can only blame my past self for being too stupid to see through these tricks. “Why are you so pale?” Sarah brought over a coffee and handed it to me. “Did you eat something bad?” I opened my mouth but was in too much pain to speak, so I just waved my hand. She grabbed me: “Don’t be a hero. I’m taking you to the hospital.” The lights in the ER were blinding. When the nurse handed me the test results, her eyes held a trace of pity: “Considering potential malignancy, we recommend further pathological examination.” Staring at those words on the report, life suddenly felt absurd. Just last night I was calculating that a few more years at this company would give me enough for a down payment to move out of my cramped rental. I wouldn’t give my mom another cent. I was going to travel abroad, eat delicious food, buy clothes I liked. For the rest of my life, I would only love myself. But now, fate had blindsided me with a sledgehammer. 3 It was late at night when I got home. Sarah comforted me the whole time and helped me apply for a day of sick leave, telling me to rest well before discussing next steps. My mind was a mess, and of course, Mom called again. I declined it: “Busy.” “Busy with what? Did you take what I said seriously? Your sister has to pay tuition the day after tomorrow. Any later and it’ll be too late.” “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely pay you back.” Ha. I’d sooner believe the sun rises in the west than believe she’d pay me back. Over the years, the empty promises she’s made could fill the entire living room. “I’ll buy you a new backpack when your dad gets paid.” “After Chloe’s recital, I’ll buy you a dress with the leftover money.” “Mom will keep your red envelope money safe, and add a little more when I give it back.” … In the end, it all turned into nothing. 4 I took a deep breath and called her: “Mom, I really want to ask you, do you genuinely see me as your daughter? I’ve always been curious, why have you disliked me since I was little?” Mom sounded confused: “Why ask that all of a sudden? You’re overthinking things again. Stop talking nonsense, when will the money…” Tears streamed down my face. I took a picture of the medical report and sent it: “I’m sick. I need this money for treatment. You guys figure something else out. If you have any money, lend me some too.” Mom immediately sent a voice message: “Don’t joke around, Nina. Don’t copy those trashy pranks online, joking about being sick is bad luck. Your sister is so close, just one last step. After this advanced course, she’ll definitely become a principal dancer! When she makes money, she won’t forget you…” I suddenly couldn’t hold it in anymore. I grabbed the phone and said weakly: “Do I owe you anything? If she wants money, tell her to sell her blood or a kidney!! Don’t come to me!” After sending that, I turned off my phone. I hid under the covers and cried my heart out. Then I told myself silently, that’s it. That was the last time I’d shed tears for people who aren’t worth it. 5 Chloe is my aunt’s daughter. My aunt and my mom were both small-town overachievers who tested into a university in Shanghai together. But their fates diverged wildly. After graduation, Mom went back to our hometown and married my dad, living a small-town life. Auntie stayed in Shanghai and married a construction boss. Around the millennium, my uncle’s monthly income was more than my parents could save in years. Every time Mom saw Auntie’s glamorous life, her eyes revealed her unwillingness to accept her lot. Auntie was well-off and willing to spend money on Chloe. Chloe excelled at piano, dance, and calligraphy from a young age, praised by adults wherever she went. During New Year’s, Mom would only buy me new clothes if I got straight A’s. But Chloe was already wearing Burberry. If not for the accident that happened to her family later, I probably would have remained just a distant relative to her, with little interaction.

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When I saw the fragile “White Lotus” being cornered by thugs in the alleyway, I didn’t scream. I didn’t call 911. I pulled out my phone and started recording. A stream of floating text—comments from some interdimensional live stream—scrolled across my vision: [Yes! The hero is about to swoop in! Redemption arc, let’s go!] [Oh no, it’s the evil villainess first. She’s filming it? The heroine is doomed…] [Chill, guys. This is just building tension. The more arrogant the villain, the harder the slap in the face later!] [Waiting for the karma.] [Same.] Oh. So, I’m the evil villainess. I smirked, a wicked glint in my eye, and turned to the six massive bodyguards behind me. “Drag them somewhere with no cameras. Rough them up. Just don’t kill them.” 01 Hearing my order, the floating comments exploded: [WTF? She’s a psychopath! Villainess, be a human for once!] [Hero! Where are you? Save our precious baby!] [Am I the only one who finds this spicy? Girl-on-girl rivalry is getting intense!] The thugs stopped what they were doing and looked back at me. Then their eyes widened as they saw the wall of muscle standing behind me. The leader, a guy with bleached blond hair, looked from the skinny, trembling Sophie Hayes to my personal army. He let out a greasy laugh. “Hey, gorgeous. What’s your beef with this little girl? You bring this much firepower, she might break.” His two lackeys laughed along. “Besides, first come, first served, right?” Sophie was pinned against the wall by the blonde guy. She had been cursing and scratching a second ago, but now she was frozen. She looked at me with pure terror. Tears swirled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Like a stubborn little lamb waiting for the slaughter. I remembered the Villain’s Handbook: Don’t talk too much. “Take them.” My bodyguards moved like a dark tide. They snatched the three thugs up like they were baby chickens and dragged them deeper into the shadows of the alley. The thugs panicked, legs flailing. “Whoa, whoa! What the hell!” “Check your eyes, man! I’m a dude!” “That’s not a fair fight! Let go!” My guards, trained professionals, clamped hands over their mouths and chuckled darkly. “Heh, we love dudes.” The alley fell silent. Only the wind whistled through, messing up Sophie’s hair. The floating comments were stunned. The screen was filled with [WTF]. Sophie was stunned, too. 02 Sophie’s school uniform was torn, exposing a shoulder so thin it looked brittle. Her face was scraped, and her nose was bleeding. She slumped to the ground, looking at me blankly. I took off my blazer and handed it to her. “Put this on.” She took it, and suddenly, the tears she’d been holding back started falling. Plip, plop. Her body shook uncontrollably. It was the tremors of surviving a disaster. I knew that shaking well. “Vivian… thank you.” She lowered her head, exposing her delicate neck, shoulders heaving with sobs. Even under the jacket, her shoulder blades poked out sharply. I reached out, wanting to pat her shoulder. But I really hate physical contact. So, I dropped my hand. The comments returned: [Boohoo, baby don’t cry, my heart is breaking.] [No, cry harder! The hero will be here any second!] [Tears are a woman’s best weapon.] Bunch of idiots. I lowered my eyes and organized my thoughts. This world was a classic cliché romance novel. The heroine, Sophie Hayes, was the fragile White Lotus—born to suffer, destined to be tough. The hero, Gavin Pierce, was the savior CEO type. He exists to save her from the fires of hell. And I, Vivian Sterling, am the designated Villainess. The calamity creator. The professional stumbling block. Because of my meddling, the hero would misunderstand the heroine, she’d suffer miscarriages and trauma, and he’d eventually grovel for forgiveness. They’d get a Happily Ever After. My ending? Bankruptcy, family ruin, and a permanent room in a psych ward. Okay, cool. So the guy takes zero losses, right? 03 Thinking of this, I handed my phone to Sophie. “I recorded the evidence. Do you want to—” Before I could finish, a low roar filled with rage erupted behind me. “Vivian Sterling!” Gritting teeth and all. I raised an eyebrow and turned to face Gavin Pierce. The Hero had arrived. The comments gave him a grand welcome: [OMG! The School King is here! So handsome, his legs are longer than my life expectancy!] [I want to slide down his nose bridge~] [I want to swim in his abs~] [Can’t wait to see him comfort our baby!] These people need therapy. I frowned at the floating text. Gavin interpreted my expression as jealousy that Sophie was getting his attention. He shoved me aside and grabbed Sophie by the shoulders. “Sophie, are you okay? What did she do to you?” Before Sophie could answer, he saw the video playing on my phone screen. On screen, the thugs were tearing at Sophie’s clothes, laughing lewdly. “Look at this, fresh meat! Let big brother teach you a lesson!” Sophie was struggling and screaming: “You perverts! The police station is right there! You touch me, and you’ll have a criminal record! You’ll never get a government job!” The thug slapped her. “I’m already a lowlife, who cares about a government job!” … I sighed internally. The brain circuitry of a straight-A student like Sophie was truly unique. Logically sound, but weird. Sophie clutched my jacket with both hands, biting her lip, her big round eyes darting glances at me. Gavin’s eyes turned red with rage. He tried to snatch my phone, but I dodged. “What are you doing? Robbery in broad daylight? Aren’t you afraid of getting a criminal record?” The future heir of the Pierce Group did not appreciate the callback. He shouted at me: “Vivian! I know you’re jealous that I like Sophie, but take it out on me! Don’t bully her!” “If you try to ruin Sophie’s reputation with this video, don’t blame me for destroying you!” 04 He was acting like an NPC following a script. But the comments went wild: [Ahhhh! I can’t! Domineering CEO protecting his wife! So hot!] [Who else but the hero could protect our baby like this?] [Sophie, marry him already!] So noisy. I raised my hand. SLAP. A crisp sound echoed through the alley. Five distinct finger marks appeared on Gavin’s face. “You…” I covered my nose, looking disgusted. “Back off. Your breath stinks.” Gavin raised a hand to hit back, but Sophie suddenly squeezed between us. She blocked me with her small body. “Gavin, you misunderstood! Vivian saved me! If it wasn’t for her, I would be…” She pressed her lips together, eyes red, then turned to me. “Vivian, can you send me the video? I want to call the police.” I raised an eyebrow. The academic White Lotus had a brain after all. “Police?” Gavin was confused. After realizing what actually happened, Gavin’s face grew dark. “Sophie, I forbid you from calling the police.” “You don’t know people like Vivian. If you report this, your reputation will be ruined. Everyone will talk.” He glared at me viciously, as if I were the one pushing his flower into the fire. Sophie paused. “Gavin, they bullied me. I’m the victim. Why would my reputation be ruined?” Gavin didn’t expect her to ask that. He stammered, “Sophie… you… you’re too naive. If you file a report today, tomorrow people will throw mud at you. They’ll say you’re… unclean.” I decided to stir the pot. “He’s right, Sophie. I know the Pierce family. They don’t allow ‘damaged goods’ through their front door.” Gavin didn’t refute me. He looked at Sophie, waiting for her to submit. “Sophie, trust me. I’ll use my connections to bury this. No one will know.” Sophie acted like she didn’t hear him. She looked at me timidly. “Vivian, I think you misunderstood. I have no interest in Gavin. I just want to study.” “And, Gavin… I think you’re wrong. If a thug touches me, and that makes me ‘unclean,’ that means the thug is dirty, not me.”

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This weekend, my husband and I were invited to a charity auction. During the bidding, his secretary and I both set our sights on the same oil painting. I was ready for a fair contest, but right in front of me, my husband placed an unlimited bid for his secretary. “Cecily,” she sneered, “you’re nothing but a pet my husband keeps. What right do you have to compete with me?” Just as the other bidders began to drop out, I caught the auctioneer’s eye and snapped my fingers. “Whatever Mr. House is bidding,” I announced, my voice cutting through the silence, “I’ll bid one dollar more.” 01 The moment the words left my lips, every head in the grand ballroom turned to face me. A beat of stunned silence, and then, the room erupted in laughter. “Is this woman insane? Fighting her own husband over a painting? Does she have money to burn?” “She’s more than insane; she’s an idiot. A piece of arm candy daring to challenge Victor House in public. She doesn’t know her place.” “I heard before I came that House picked up a trophy wife a few years ago and just keeps her locked away at home. I guess we’re finally seeing her in the flesh.” As the whispers grew louder, the color drained from my husband Victor’s face, replaced by a deep, blotchy red. He shot up from his chair, his finger pointed accusingly at me. “Cecily, put your hand down this instant! Do you hear me?” he seethed. “You’re spending my money, the House family’s money! How dare you bid against me?” I leaned back in my chair, my posture relaxed, and met his furious gaze with a cool, steady one. “Victor, I am still your wife. You might want to show a little respect.” My eyes narrowed. “And I’m going after something I want. Why should I back down for someone else?” My gaze flickered with a sudden, sharp intensity. “Besides, I’ve never spent a single cent of your family’s money. Don’t you dare suggest otherwise.” His face went from red to purple. “Cecily! Have I not told you? In public, you will address me as Mr. House.” He spat the words out. “You’re nothing but a dog the House family took in. You and I have nothing in common!” I let out a soft sigh, my eyes locked on his. “Mr. House, are you really going to do this? Are you really going to fight me over a painting for your little secretary?” To be honest, I knew something was wrong the moment we arrived. By all rights, as Victor’s wife, I should have been seated at his side. Instead, I was tucked away at a table in the furthest, darkest corner of the room. I could have tolerated that. After all, old Mr. House, his father, had always been kind to me, often inviting me for a game of chess. A good woman should know how to indulge her husband’s foolish pride. But I never imagined that my seat, the one that rightfully belonged to me, would be occupied by Victor’s secretary, Jessica. A fresh college graduate whose only remarkable quality was her youth. And yet, here was my idiotic husband, ready to go to war for her. A hot flame of fury licked up my spine. But the so-called “rising star of the business world” was oblivious, his tirade continuing unabated. “Who the hell do you think you are, Cecily? I don’t need you telling me how to run my life,” he snarled. “For all these years, you’ve eaten our food, lived in our house. What do you possibly have that gives you the right to challenge me?” His voice rose to a crescendo. “You know what? I don’t care who knows. I’m buying this painting for Jessica, and that’s final!” Before I could even react, the secretary herself decided to chime in. She shot me a look dripping with provocation. “Miss Cecily, a word of advice? You should just drop it.” “If you make Mr. House unhappy,” she continued, a sly smile spreading across her face, “your life could get very… difficult.” She let out a little laugh. “A trophy wife should look the part, don’t you think? Am I right, Miss Cecily?” Jessica’s words sent another wave of laughter through the crowd. Even the auctioneer on stage was struggling to suppress a smirk. I, however, simply waved a dismissive hand and let out a cold chuckle. “So, what you’re saying, Miss Jessica, is that you’re prepared to go head-to-head with me today?” She smirked, her eyes filled with contempt. “Miss Cecily, let’s be realistic. You’re a housewife. You don’t even have a job. How could you possibly compete with me? Mr. House just made an unlimited bid. It’s an open checkbook. Do you have that kind of money to follow?” I slowly lifted my chin, a faint smile playing on my lips. “You’re wrong, Jessica. You and I are nothing alike.” “I don’t need a man to buy my things.” My statement was met with a fresh round of scorn. “Oh, please. This girl is all talk. She probably couldn’t have even gotten through the door without Mr. House.” “Exactly. The only reason she’s even in this room is because she married into the House family.” “Who would give her the time of day otherwise? Mr. Auctioneer, can we just get on with it? Let’s not waste any more time on this.” The mocking voices swirled around me, but they didn’t touch me. Because every word I said was the absolute truth. If I weren’t trying to save Victor a sliver of dignity, I would have proudly declared that the entire House Corporation belonged to me. Seeing my silence, the secretary grew bolder. “See? I told you. A woman with no power should just stay at home. Now look at you, completely humiliated.” Before she could finish, I slowly raised my bidding paddle. “Who said I was backing down?” My voice was clear and firm. “It’s just money. And darling, I have plenty of it.” 02 Now, every single eye in the room was fixed on me. Even the auctioneer was frozen, unsure of what to do next. He probably knew I was bluffing, but the rules were the rules; as a professional, he couldn’t bring the gavel down as long as there was an active bidder. Suddenly, Victor’s roar echoed through the ballroom. “Cecily! You’re really determined to make an enemy of me today, aren’t you?” My eyes flickered to the secretary standing possessively beside him. I answered without a shred of hesitation. “Yes.” The word hung in the air for a moment before Victor bellowed again, his voice raw with fury. “Fine! Fine! Let’s see just how deep your pockets are!” He thrust his paddle into the air. “Ten million dollars!” Anyone familiar with auctions knows that an unlimited bid is a point of no return. You either see it through to the end, or you face financial ruin. If Victor was willing to gamble his entire company for a secretary, then I was more than happy to play along. “Ten million… and one dollar.” Heads whipped back in my direction. I could see it in their faces—they were all waiting for the punchline, for me to be exposed as a fraud. No one here knew the truth. No one knew that I was the silent force behind the House Corporation. Years ago, when the House family was on the verge of bankruptcy, their patriarch, Theodore House, had shown up on my family’s doorstep in the dead of night, a marriage contract in hand, begging me to save them. To honor a debt owed by a previous generation, I had gritted my teeth and married Victor. And this man, this ungrateful fool, had never treated me as anything more than an inconvenience. He insulted me daily, and now he dared to publicly humiliate me for another woman. This was an indignity I simply could not swallow. “You bitch! Do you even have that kind of money?” Jessica shrieked, her composure finally cracking as she saw me matching her boss. “This is a high-stakes auction, not a flea market!” She jabbed a finger at me. “Let me warn you, if you can’t produce the funds, you’ll be going to jail!” I glanced up at her and offered a serene smile. “Jessica, you don’t need to worry about my finances. I suggest you worry about your boss. Once you start down this road, there’s no turning back.” My words only fueled Victor’s rage. He raised his paddle again. “You dare lecture my people in front of me, Cecily? You want to follow? Let’s see how much you really have!” “Another ten million! We’re at twenty million!” A collective gasp swept through the room. This was a charity auction, after all. While the items were valuable, they were nowhere near the eight-figure range. And this piece was just a painting by a child, not some old master. “Mr. House, how generous! On behalf of the children in need, I thank you,” I said, clapping slowly as I rose to my feet. “But… since it’s for charity, more is always better, isn’t it?” Then, under the astonished gaze of everyone present, I slowly extended a single finger. “Twenty million… and one dollar.” 03 Not a single person in that room had expected me to challenge Victor so relentlessly. Their expressions were a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. Everyone here was a titan of their industry. Victor himself had only received an invitation because of the House Corporation’s recent resurgence. I could see in his eyes that he was enjoying this, relishing the chance to publicly put me in my place. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to the room, “let me be perfectly clear. While this woman is legally my wife, we have no actual relationship. If she fails to produce the funds later, the House Corporation will not be held responsible.” I almost laughed out loud. “Mr. House, I wouldn’t be so quick to cut ties with me,” I said sweetly. “After all, you’re the one who started this little spectacle with an unlimited bid. When you can’t pay up, you might just find yourself begging me to bail you out.” Before he could retort, his secretary stepped forward. “Cecily, are you daydreaming?” she scoffed. “You, a mere housewife, think you can compare to the entire House Corporation? You’re delusional.” I shook my head, my composure unshaken. “It may be hard for you to believe right now, but it’s the truth. If you don’t believe me, by all means, let your Mr. House test that theory.” Jessica raised an eyebrow, a sneer playing on her lips. “Be my guest. A woman who doesn’t even know her own worth, still trying to put on a brave face. How pathetic.” Her words didn’t faze me. “I’m sorry, but we’re not the same. I, Cecily, have never used a man’s money to buy anything.” Her comment sparked another round of murmurs from those who knew of my domestic situation. “Please, anyone can talk big. If she were so powerful, why would she be content as a housewife?” “Exactly. Mr. House is a rising star with a net worth in the hundreds of millions. What is she?” “She’s just a clown trying to get attention. Let’s ignore her.” I slowly got to my feet, my gaze sweeping across the entire room. “Listen to me, all of you,” I said, my voice resonating with a newfound authority. “Right now, it’s not just the House family I look down on. It’s every single one of you in this room.” I might not be a business mogul, but I know a thing or two about character. From the moment I walked in, these so-called titans of industry weren’t discussing charity; they were discussing how best to kiss Victor House’s ass. My declaration instantly made me the target of everyone’s fury. Even the auctioneer had had enough. “Ma’am, we do not welcome people like you at this event.” I tilted my head, looking up at the stage. “Oh? And what kind of person is that? Do tell.” Before he could answer, Jessica rushed the stage and snatched the microphone from his hand. “Cecily, you are a useless nobody!” Her voice boomed through the speakers, filling every corner of the ballroom. The business leaders rose to their feet, applauding in agreement. Even Victor, who had been silent for a while, watched me with a look of malicious glee. Seeing this unfold, it hit me with stunning clarity: my decision to save the House family all those years ago had been the height of foolishness. Noticing my long silence, Jessica assumed I had finally lost my nerve. She raised the microphone again. “Hey, you! Now do you see why Mr. House refuses to even sit with you?” Her voice climbed an octave, filled with triumph. “It’s because… you are not worthy.” 04 I fought back the inferno raging inside me and spoke, my voice dangerously calm. “From the sound of it, you want me to divorce your Mr. House?” Jessica’s lips split into a wide, triumphant grin. “Since you’re so self-aware, I won’t bother pretending anymore.” “That’s right. I believe I am a much better fit to be Mrs. House than you are.” I stared at her, my face a blank mask. “Go on,” I said, each word deliberate. “And?” She shot me a contemptuous glance. “Mr. House wants a divorce!” I froze for a second, then turned my head to look at Victor. “Is what she’s saying true? You really want to divorce me?” Victor arched an eyebrow, his eyes filled with disgust. “Jessica is right. I’ve wanted to divorce you for years. It was only because of my father’s pressure that I put it off. It’s perfect, actually. With all these esteemed business leaders here today, they can all be my witnesses.” He looked me straight in the eye and declared, “I, Victor House, am divorcing you!” I looked back at him, my voice devoid of any emotion. “Are you sure about this?” “Victor, have you really thought this through?” Before the words were even out of my mouth, the man pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket—a divorce agreement. “Cecily, don’t even try to talk me out of it. I have never, not for a single moment, had any feelings for you.” I studied him for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “It looks like you came prepared for this, didn’t you, Mr. House?” He nodded without an ounce of shame. “I did. I’ve wanted to divorce you every single day. I wanted it then, I want it now, and I’ll want it in the future!” At his declaration, Jessica, still on stage, began to applaud wildly. The guests in the room quickly joined in, hooting and cheering. I scanned the crowd, a small, knowing smile touching the corners of my lips. “Well, with an atmosphere like this, it would be rude of me to say no.” “Alright, you win. I agree to the divorce. However…” Hearing that I’d agreed, Victor could barely contain his excitement. He cut me off before I could finish. “Cecily, since you agree, this makes things simple. Name your price. How much money do you want? I’ll do my best to accommodate you.” I waved my hand dismissively, my gaze deep and meaningful. “Not so fast, Mr. House. We can talk about money later. I may have agreed to a divorce, but this auction isn’t over yet.” “My last bid was twenty million and one dollar. Does Mr. House intend to raise?” Knowing Victor and his fragile ego, my challenge to continue the bidding war was the ultimate insult. His face immediately darkened. “Cecily, I’m warning you, don’t push your luck.” I raised an eyebrow at him and gave a careless shrug. “What’s wrong? The great chairman of the House Corporation is getting cold feet at a mere twenty million?” My taunt hit its mark. He exploded. “Fine! We’ll see how long you can keep this act up!” “Thirty million!” “Thirty million… and one dollar.” Victor shot me a death glare and raised his bid again. “Fifty million!” As the price soared, beads of sweat began to form on Victor’s forehead. I let out a cold laugh and spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. “Mr. House, since we’re all here for charity, why don’t we just get straight to the point?” “I bid one hundred million dollars!” The words dropped like a bomb. The entire room erupted. While most of the people here had fortunes exceeding a hundred million, having that net worth and having a hundred million in liquid cash were two very different things. Victor was stunned into silence by my sheer audacity, unable to speak. Just then, Jessica, who had been quiet for a moment, spoke up. “You little bitch, this is an auction, not a numbers game! Anyone can shout ‘one hundred million.’ The question is, can you actually pay it?” Her words were like a lifeline to Victor. A glint of hope appeared in his eyes. “Jessica’s right! Why should I have to follow whatever number you pull out of thin air?” He paused, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “Cecily, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you can’t produce that hundred million, you will be facing serious legal consequences.” Immediately, Jessica raised the microphone again, turning to the crowd. “Mr. House is right! We demand that she verify her funds right here, right now!” Seeing the predatory gleam in Jessica’s eyes, the corner of my mouth lifted into a smirk. “It took you all night, but you finally asked the right question.”

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I accidentally crushed my sister’s baby. Flattened it right into the floor. They say a child is a piece of a mother’s own flesh. To make it up to her, I carved a chunk of meat from my own stomach and gave it to my sister. Less than a week later, the meat suddenly came alive. It grew eyes, a nose, and opened its mouth to call me “Mama.” 1 It all started a month ago. My sister, Lisa, had been married for years. She tried everything to get pregnant, but nothing worked. With her thirtieth birthday approaching, Mom suggested she try IVF. But on her birthday, Lisa suddenly announced she had a child. The whole family was stunned. Not only because it was out of the blue, but don’t you need to be pregnant to have a kid? Her stomach had been flat all year. Where did this child come from? Lisa shook her head mysteriously and brought out a thermal container from her room. It was about the size of a hamster cage, lined with gauze and cotton. In the center lay a piece of meat, the size of a palm. Lisa tapped gently on the box, her voice soft: “Dolly, Grandma and Auntie are here to see you!” Mom and I exchanged looks. We both thought she’d lost her mind. But then, the meat moved. It wiggled toward the glass lid. Looking closer, I saw two slits on the surface. They opened slightly, revealing what looked exactly like eyes, staring straight at us. I screamed, nearly falling off my chair. Lisa smiled. She scooped the meat up in her hands and held it out to us like a treasure. “Mom, Sis, look! Isn’t Dolly cute?” Mom was terrified, covering her mouth with trembling hands. “Lisa… don’t scare me like this…” 2 Lisa’s face darkened instantly. “Mom, what do you mean? Do you think I’m crazy?” Mom didn’t answer, just silently wiped her tears. Lisa turned to me. “Sis, do you think so too?” Before I could speak, she put the meat back in the box and sat down coldly. “I know you don’t believe me, but I paid a lot of money for this method!” Lisa told us it was a secret folk ritual. You cut a piece of flesh from your stomach and feed it with fresh blood. The meat will gradually grow into the shape of a child, looking exactly like you. “You know how much I’ve suffered trying to get pregnant all these years. Now I finally have a child. Even if she’s a monster, I accept it!” Tears streamed down Lisa’s face as she spoke. Seeing this, the meat actually pushed open the lid and jumped out, excitedly trying to wipe Lisa’s tears while constantly crying, “Mama.” Mom and I were dumbfounded. Mom swallowed her words, sighed, and decided not to stop her. As her sister, I couldn’t really interfere either, so we let it be. But after dinner, Lisa pulled me aside. “Sis, my husband Mark is coming back tonight. I’m afraid he won’t accept the child right away. Can you take care of her for a while?” Mark was a traditional guy. Years of infertility had cooled their marriage. Since Lisa didn’t work and didn’t control the finances, she was always careful around him. Seeing my hesitation, she held up a finger. “I calculated it. In just one week, she’ll grow into a normal-looking baby. I’ll take her back then!” “Sis, please, for the sake of my marriage, help me!” 3 I was soft-hearted, so I agreed. I took the ball of meat home. Following instructions, I had to feed it every night before bed. I filled a baby bottle with the fresh blood Lisa had prepared, fought back my nausea, and took out the meat. It sat there obediently. Smooth surface. Feeling it in my hand, it reminded me of a raw meatball from the supermarket. But just as I was about to offer the bottle, the meat opened its eyes! The eyes took up almost its entire body. The pupils were slit and long, like a painted pattern. Disgusting and terrifying. I shuddered and instinctively let go. The meat seemed to hit the floor, and just as I apologized and bent to pick it up, the power went out! I fumbled in the dark to flip the breaker, but when the lights came back on, the meat was gone. “Dolly! Dolly, where are you? Auntie didn’t mean to drop you!” I called out several times with no response. When I bent down, I saw what looked like a smear of blood on the sole of my shoe. A bad feeling spread in my chest. No way. No way. I chanted internally as I slowly lifted my foot. In that moment, my blood ran cold. “Dolly” was stuck to the sole of my shoe. The shape was gone, mashed into a paste of blood and raw meat. It was completely crushed. And those slit eyes were flattened, printed onto the smooth floor, still staring straight at me. I had trampled Dolly to death. My mind went blank. My legs gave out, and I collapsed on the floor. 4 The summer night was stifling. Soon, the smell of blood filled the air. Like a zombie, I carried my slipper to the bathroom, scrubbed Dolly into the toilet, and mopped up the eye on the floor. Just as I finished, Lisa called. The ringtone sounded like a death knell, sharp and piercing. I picked up the phone nervously, hesitated for a long time, and finally pressed answer. Lisa’s cheerful voice came through: “Sis, is Dolly settling in okay? Can we video chat so I can see her?” Staring at the pile of meat in the toilet, I lied instinctively. “She… she’s asleep.” “Oh, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. You get some sleep too.” Lisa didn’t press further. Just as she was about to hang up, I stopped her, my heart pounding. “Wait! Can you… tell me the secret method? I have a friend who’s been trying to conceive for years. She wants to try it too!” My back was drenched in cold sweat. I knew I should tell the truth. But I also knew how important this child was to Lisa. If she knew I flattened her baby, she might actually kill me. The only way out was to use the next week to make another Dolly! Silence on the other end. My heart was in my throat, terrified she’d notice something wrong. Luckily, Lisa didn’t think much of it and agreed quickly. “Sure. I’ll send you the Master’s number. Just contact him.” The signal was bad; she had to repeat herself twice. I couldn’t help asking, “Where are you? Why is the signal so bad?” She sighed. “Mark called an hour ago saying he was in the basement parking garage, but he hasn’t come up yet. I came down to look for him.” As soon as she finished speaking, I heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by Lisa’s terrified scream. 5 My heart tightened. “What happened?!” The call cut off. I tried calling back, but it wouldn’t connect. I had a bad feeling, but I didn’t have time to guess. They were coming to pick up Dolly in a week. I was running out of time. Early the next morning, I contacted the so-called “Master.” He seemed to expect me and just gave me an address before hanging up. It was a remote mountain village. I drove all day. By evening, I finally saw the old red brick house from the address. I gathered my courage and knocked. After a few knocks, a wrinkled face appeared in the crack of the door. “Who are you looking for?” His voice sounded like broken bellows. His cloudy, gray eyes looked me up and down. “A friend sent me. I want the potion that makes meat babies.” I answered honestly. He paused for a moment, then said abruptly, “Didn’t you come last week?” I froze. He must have mistaken me for Lisa. We were sisters, and people always said we looked alike. That was why I dared to try this deception. A child made from my flesh should look similar enough to one made from hers. I didn’t explain. “There was an accident. I want to buy another bottle.” The old man looked at me for a moment, went inside, and came back with a bottle of pitch-black liquid. “$5,000 a bottle. Same instructions as before.” I quickly handed over the cash envelope but stopped him before he closed the door. “Um… what were the instructions again? I forgot. Can you tell me one more time?” 6 The old man sighed and came back, lowering his raspy voice: “When you get home, soak a towel in the potion and apply it to your stomach for five hours. When the area feels numb, you can cut the meat.” “After cutting, feed it blood for the first week. Once the mouth and teeth grow, you can feed it normal food.” “The smaller the child, the deeper the connection to the mother. Watch it constantly to prevent accidents that could harm the mother.” “Finally, if you notice the child growing faster than you, destroy it immediately. Or something terrible will happen!” I was confused. “What terrible thing?” The old man gave me a complicated look but didn’t answer directly. He just left me with one sentence. “You’ll know when the time comes.” Back in the car, staring at the black potion, that last sentence kept replaying in my head. Does that mean a child made this way might not stay with you forever? What’s the point of such a short companionship? But since Lisa had been here, she must have known the rules and accepted them. I pushed the thought aside and drove home. That night, I followed the instructions and cut a piece of flesh, nurturing it in a glass box. The next few days went smoothly. The meat ball grew day by day. Maybe because I fed it so often, it grew faster than I expected. But strangely, Lisa hadn’t called since that night. It was good for avoiding exposure, at least. A week passed. The meat ball had developed all facial features and even limbs. Looking closely, it had the shape of a human. And it looked just like Dolly.

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My boyfriend called me to break up. I paused for a second, then replied, “Weren’t we always just friends?” The other end went silent for a beat, then exploded with noise. “Sister-in-law is savage!” “Boss, how have you been simping for so many years and still haven’t locked it down?” Chase Sterling coughed lightly. “Sorry, excuse me. I need to handle some family business.” 1 Chase emphasized the words “family business.” He was definitely pissed. I hung up before he could say another word and immediately turned off my phone. I spent the whole day in class feeling like a dead woman walking. When the old professor called on me, I actually gave a serious answer instead of my usual sarcastic quip. He pushed his reading glasses up his nose. “Well, well. Has Lily been possessed?” I grinned sheepishly. “Nah, just trying out a new persona for the semester: the quiet, studious girl.” The class erupted in laughter, breaking the tension. The professor nodded. “Right. That’s the Lily we know.” After evening classes, I kept my head down and rushed toward the dorms, trying to avoid detection. Suddenly, my roommates sandwiched me, bumping my shoulders. “Hey, hey! Look at the school gate! That’s a Porsche Cayenne. Looks expensive.” “I don’t know cars, but the pretty boy standing in front of it is definitely expensive…” I looked up. The “pretty boy” with platinum blonde hair was walking right toward us. He flashed a sunny grin and shouted confidently, “Hi! Sister-in-law… I mean, Lily!” My roommates, bless their hearts, had zero chill. They shoved me forward and vanished into thin air. I stumbled, nearly face-planting into Jax’s chest. Jax looked terrified, closing his eyes and stepping back. “You little sh…” Before I could finish cursing, someone scooped me up by the waist. When did Chase get out of the car? I didn’t have time to think. I stood up straight and swallowed the curse words. Jax let out a huge breath, patting his chest. “Thank god you’re okay, Sister-in-law.” I rolled my eyes at him. He laughed nervously. “Don’t be mad, Lily. We were playing Truth or Dare with the Boss!” Uh-huh. And? “Boss lost. He picked Dare. The breakup call was my bad idea.” Jax shook my arm like a little kid. “Hit me, scold me, whatever you want. Just don’t be mad at the Boss, okay?” Chase swatted Jax’s hand away. “Alright, get lost.” So he dragged Jax out here just to explain things to me? 2 Achoo! The AC in the car was blasting. I sneezed. Chase glanced at me and turned the temperature up two degrees. But even the warmer air couldn’t fix the icy atmosphere coming off him. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low. “What did you mean by ‘Weren’t we always just friends?’” Uhh… “Listen, let me make up… I mean, explain…” “Lily, don’t forget. We’re already married.” I slumped back, adjusted the seat to maximum comfort, kicked off my shoes, and curled up. “You were the one who said ‘break up’ first…” I muttered in protest. Chase’s hand on the steering wheel paused. He tossed a blanket over me. “Fine. Neither of us will say it again.” “And… don’t sit like that in other people’s cars.” Like what? I looked down. Oh, right. I forgot I was wearing a skirt… I quickly pulled the blanket over myself. Help. Did he see something? “Did you see anything?” “No.” “What color?” “White…” Hmph. He totally saw it and won’t admit it. Fast reflexes. I peeked at him, blushing. His nose was high and straight, jawline sharp, lips perfectly shaped. The sunset streaming through the window softened his features. Even his side profile was devastating. I noticed the tips of his ears turning pink. Click. I snapped a photo with my phone. Chase’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What… are you doing?” So handsome! I admired my composition and lighting. “This photo should sell for a lot! I bet your fans would fight over it.” Chase scoffed. “Why? Is the allowance I give you not enough?” Enough? It was more than enough. Being Chase Sterling’s secret wife came with a monthly stipend of $50,000. It was a very friendly agreement we reached. 3 Chase was the highest-ranked esports player in the league. His hands were steady. His driving was even steadier. Every time I sat in his car, I fell asleep. I must have stared at his photo too long because I started having weird dreams… In the dream, my fingers traced over his brow bone, his nose, his lips… And just as he was getting worked up, I kissed him. “Mmph!” I opened my eyes to see Chase’s flushed face right in front of mine. Not a dream! “Breathe.” I finally found some air. Chase chuckled lightly. “Clean up. We’re here.” Looking in the mirror at my watery eyes and swollen lips, I took several deep breaths and cursed internally: Chase Sterling, you animal! I looked outside. It was that private kitchen restaurant I said I liked. Chase was a regular here. The owner greeted him warmly. But today, the owner seemed overly enthusiastic, until he saw me behind Chase. He rubbed his hands together awkwardly. I looked toward the window and realized why. Sitting there was Sienna, the youngest Best Actress winner in history. And Chase’s “white moonlight” ex-girlfriend. “What a coincidence,” Sienna said, smiling. As expected of a movie star. Stunning even without makeup. Chase paused for a few seconds, then nodded. He reached back and pulled me forward. Thanks a lot, buddy! Sienna looked visibly surprised when she saw me, then smiled again. “I didn’t know you liked this place too.” Is it too late to say I hate it now? Sienna bit her lip, eyes slightly red, staring at Chase with deep affection. Old lovers reuniting. Sparks flying. Since it was a private kitchen and everyone knew each other, Sienna suggested we eat together. She sat opposite Chase, chatting casually about recent events. “Congratulations on founding the top esports club in the country.” “Thanks.” “Chase, I’m planning to develop my career back in the states now…” I channeled my third-wheel energy into my appetite. You guys talk. I’ll eat. I looked out the window. Maybe I wouldn’t be by Chase’s side much longer. The owner came over. “Drinks? Iced or room temp?” Chase and Sienna said in unison: “Room temp.” I yelled alone: “Iced!” Sienna giggled shyly. “I can’t believe you still remember…” Chase swapped my iced Coke for a warm one. “Don’t you know you can’t have ice the next couple of days?” Facing Chase’s sudden concern, I instinctively looked at Sienna. The shy blush hadn’t faded from her face yet, but her knuckles were white from gripping her glass. Hiccup. The atmosphere was too awkward. My body betrayed me. 4 Liking someone is like a hiccup. You can’t hide it. Apparently, awkwardness is the same. After my nth hiccup, Chase finally couldn’t hold it in and laughed out loud. I glared at him. Drinking water and eating rice wasn’t helping. Help me. Why am I hiccuping in front of my love rival??? Watching Sienna sitting elegantly across from us, I wanted to cry. Chase patted my back indulgently. He took away the water glass I was reaching for. “That won’t work. I have a method. Want to try?” I nodded like a bobblehead between hiccups. “Look over there!” Huh? I followed his finger. The next second, his large hand cupped the back of my head, and he kissed me! “You you you… what are you doing?” My face exploded with heat. I pushed him away in a panic. He licked his lips like he wanted more. “What? Hiccups gone, now you’re a stutterer?” I stammered for a while, unable to form a sentence. Crash. Sienna’s glass hit the floor. Her eyes were red, voice trembling. “Sorry. Slipped.” She walked toward the restroom, looking strong yet fragile. A classic “pity me” flower. I peeked at Chase. He was unmoved, seriously eating his food. Something’s off. Did he kiss me just to make Sienna jealous? Is his calmness just a front? I lost my appetite. Sienna came back. She looked like she’d been crying. A pear blossom bathed in rain. Truly pitiful. I tactfully opened my Uber app. “Um, I’ll call a car back to school. Chase, you drive her home!” Chase snatched my phone and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, walking me out. “Miss Sienna doesn’t need me. I’ll drive you.”

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My CEO girlfriend, Isabella, and I were finally at that age—the marrying kind. But just as we started planning, she suddenly enacted a bizarre new company policy: To be approved for wedding leave, an employee must first demonstrate their commitment with a full month of perfect attendance. No exceptions. From that day on, Isabella—a woman who had a seven-year perfect attendance streak—developed a new catchphrase. “Bob, I’m so sorry. I was just one minute late again this month. Next month. I promise, next month I’ll marry you.” From my 29th birthday to my 32nd, in just three short years, she got into ten “accidental” car crashes that landed her in the hospital, suffered twenty-one bouts of food poisoning, and overslept five times. In short, she never managed to get that perfect attendance. At first, I was understanding, comforting. Then came the doubt, the anger. Finally, I started driving her to work myself, clearing every possible obstacle from our path. Yet, on the last day of one month, she fainted dead away just as she was stepping through the company’s front doors. That’s when a saying echoed in my mind: You can’t wake someone who’s only pretending to be asleep. After getting her to the hospital, I turned to leave. But a sliver of hope held me back. What if she was really sick? What if I was being a monster for leaving her alone? I hesitated, then turned back. And as I neared her hospital room, I heard her talking to a friend. “Isabella, there’s definitely something going on between you and that new intern, Caleb.” The casual words struck me like a bolt of lightning, knocking the air from my lungs. Isabella’s voice was laced with a nostalgic smile. “That kid’s got something. It’s been a long time since I felt that spark. Looking at Bob now is like looking at my dad. It’s just… exhausting.” “So you invented this whole perfect-attendance rule just to stall him? Aren’t you afraid he’ll find out and dump you?” “Not a chance. He’s waited for me from 24 to 32. I’m all he has. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping with casual cruelty, “he literally gave me a kidney. He’s not going anywhere. I can say a few sweet things and he’ll be eating out of my hand again.” “True. We’ve all seen how devoted he is to you. The crazy schemes he comes up with just to get you to work on time… it’s almost pathetic.” The sound of their laughter was a physical blow, a sharp, tearing pain in my chest. All my efforts, all my hopes for our future, were nothing but a joke to them. Isabella’s voice, feigning remorse, cut through my daze. “Bob, today was the last day of the month. I really thought I was going to make it. I can’t believe I failed again. I’m the worst. I swear, next month. Next month, I’ll get that perfect attendance.” Hearing those words, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Isabella, for three whole years, I have moved heaven and earth to help you, and you still couldn’t do it. How can you promise you’ll make it next month?” My question stunned her into silence. Her hands clenched into fists. “I’ll set my alarm earlier,” she said, her voice firm. “Three in the morning. I’ll get up at three. I can make it then.” “Bob, you have to believe me. Just one more month. I promise.” “Actually, Ms. Hayes might not be considered late today.” The sudden interruption from the HR representative silenced the room. Isabella’s face went rigid. “Not… late?” Her tone wasn’t joyful. It was pure terror. Her eyes darted nervously to Caleb, the intern, who was watching from the sidelines. “But she wasn’t all the way through the door!” Caleb blurted out. “Can that really count?” The HR rep looked conflicted. “Well, the security footage shows half her body was inside when the clock turned. But because she was falling, the sensor didn’t register her entry. It’s a tough call.” Suddenly, Caleb stumbled, knocking over a potted plant. He swayed, looking like he was about to faint himself. Isabella rushed to his side, steadying him. The moment their eyes met, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. I couldn’t see Isabella’s expression, but I saw her hand tighten on his arm. “Honestly, Ms. Hayes,” the HR rep continued, “we’ve all seen how hard you’ve tried these past three years. Maybe we can just call this one a…” “No,” Isabella cut in, her voice sharp and decisive. The office fell into a dead silence. I could feel the pity in my colleagues’ eyes. The HR rep blinked. “Ms. Hayes, are you sure?” Isabella’s expression was resolute. “As the CEO, I have to lead by example. Besides, I want to marry Bob with a clear conscience, knowing I earned it.” “Next month,” she said, turning her warm gaze on me. “I’ll definitely get it next month. I know Bob is understanding enough to wait for me.” I stared back, my face a mask of stone, and looked away. As the crowd of onlookers dispersed, I saw Isabella catch up to Caleb. “Stop crying,” she whispered. “I didn’t marry him, did I? Besides, you know he’s just a responsibility to me. I don’t even want to marry him.” Caleb’s tears magically stopped, replaced by a sullen pout, waiting for her to coax him back into a good mood. I hadn’t seen her use that kind of patience in years. I couldn’t stand to watch anymore. I walked back to my desk, pulled out my phone, and methodically cancelled the wedding venue we had on hold. Then I called off the wedding planner. The event coordinator was incredulous. “Sir, if you cancel, the next availability is over a year away. Are you absolutely sure?” I didn’t blame her for being surprised. Three years ago, I’d booked that venue with unshakeable confidence, telling them to save the best ballroom for me. After one, two, ten, thirty postponements, here I was, not getting married, but canceling. It was enough to make anyone curious. My eyes fell on the bouquet of flowers Isabella had sent to my desk as yet another apology. “I’m sure,” I said, my voice unwavering. “Cancel everything.” Before I overheard that conversation in the hospital, I’d had my doubts. I thought maybe we’d grown apart, that she had a simple fear of commitment. But I never, ever suspected betrayal. And I certainly never suspected it would be with Caleb, the “slow” and “annoying” intern she was always complaining about. “That new intern is painfully stupid. It took him three days to sort a simple file.” “Did HR have a lobotomy? Why would they hire an idiot like that?” Isabella, normally so composed, always seemed to fly into a rage whenever Caleb was mentioned. After the hospital, I did some reading. A psychology book said that lashing out like that can be a defense mechanism when you’re trying to deny a powerful attraction. A powerful attraction. Just how powerful was it? I thought back to when we first got together. She was incredible to me then. I once glanced at a watch on another guy’s wrist, and she entered a street race and won it for me. When a summer storm flooded the city, she abandoned her multi-million dollar car and waded through the floodwaters from her mansion on the hill just to get to my apartment. She was a wreck when she found me, covered in mud, but her only concern was whether I was hurt. I couldn’t understand it. How could two people who were once so in love end up here? When I got home, Isabella was already there. She threw her arms around me, pulling my cold body into a hug. “You’re freezing! You always try to look cool and never wear enough layers.” I didn’t answer. My gaze drifted to the coffee table, which was covered in trendy, greasy takeout food. “I heard from the kids at the office that you like this stuff,” she said. “I bought it all to say I’m sorry.” This was all the junk food Caleb always had at his desk. It was obvious who had “suggested” it. When I didn’t react, she tried another angle. “You know, we’re already like a real married couple. A marriage certificate is just a piece of paper, a formality. I don’t think we should be so conventional, right?” Years ago, I’d fallen for those lines. I forced myself to be the “cool, understanding boyfriend.” Now I saw that I had just let myself become a fool. “Isabella,” I started to say, but I saw her eyes were glued to her phone, a smile she couldn’t suppress playing on her lips. “Bob, something’s come up at work. I have to go,” she said, already grabbing her keys. “You go ahead and eat.” I watched her hurry out the door and then quietly scraped the entire table of greasy food into the trash. After my kidney transplant, my doctor told me to avoid greasy food. She never remembers. In the dead of night, my phone rang, jolting me awake. It was Isabella’s mother. The second I answered, her shrill voice pierced my ear. “Bob, you have three minutes. Get on every group chat and clear up this mess for Isabella. Now.” Confused, I opened my phone. It wasn’t just our company chat; it was chats with our corporate partners, too. All of them were flooded with pictures of Isabella and Caleb at a bar earlier that night. In the photos, her hand was on his thigh, their heads close together. It was damningly intimate. Isabella was the president of a major bank; her personal conduct and reputation were critical. No wonder her mother was panicking. “Ma’am,” I said coldly, “Isabella made her bed. Why is she afraid to lie in it?” My words sent her into a rage. “Don’t you take that tone with me, Bob! None of this would have happened if you weren’t such a curse! Isabella never missed a day of work in her life until she decided to marry you! Then suddenly it’s one ‘accident’ after another! Do you think that’s a coincidence?” “Honestly, a man whose own parents disowned him can’t have good fortune. Only my foolish daughter would treat you like a treasure. Marrying a man with a missing kidney isn’t a marriage, it’s a liability! And you have the nerve to criticize her?” She spat the words with such conviction, as if I were truly the one who had wronged her daughter. The reason my parents disowned me was because I had defied them, giving up our family home and a high-paying job in a major city to follow Isabella here. At the time, looking at the woman who cared for me so completely, I thought she was worth the gamble. It turned out I had bet on the wrong horse. The thought was another sharp jab of pain. Her mother was still ranting, listing all the ways I had brought misfortune to her daughter. I cut her off. “I’m breaking up with Isabella,” I said calmly. “You don’t need to worry anymore.” I hung up, leaving her sputtering in shock on the other end of the line. I had just lain back down when my phone rang again. It was my dad, from my hometown. We hadn’t spoken in years. I answered, bewildered. His voice was old and trembling. “Bob, you need to come home. Your mother… she’s not going to make it.” My mind went blank. The last time I saw her, she was strong enough to yell at me for leaving. How could she suddenly… My body moved before my brain could catch up. I threw on some clothes and ran for the door. I yanked it open and ran straight into Isabella. Behind her stood Caleb, sobbing hysterically. Before I could process what was happening, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Isabella had slapped me. “Bob! Who gave you permission to follow me? And to slander me and Caleb? When did you become so twisted?” I stumbled back, catching myself on a table. I touched my cheek, a bitter laugh rising in my throat. “Slander? Everyone at the office knows about you two. You don’t need my help with that. And follow you? That’s something someone who still loves you would do, Isabella. I’m done. I just want out.” My words clearly rattled her. A flicker of panic crossed her face. Caleb’s whiny voice cut in. “Bob, please don’t misunderstand. Isabella was just helping me because I’m not very good at my job. Why would you spread those horrible pictures in the group chat? How am I supposed to face anyone?” He clutched his chest, feigning a dramatic gasp. “You’re just playing games to hurt her. I can’t stand to see her upset.” He started wheezing. “Isabella… my asthma… I can’t breathe.” That was all it took. Isabella’s heart melted. She turned back to me, her eyes hard and cruel. “Break up? You think you can threaten me with a breakup to make me forgive what you did to Caleb? Not a chance, Bob. Get on your knees and apologize to him. Now.” I had to get to my mother. I didn’t have time for this. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “I shouldn’t have spread false photos to slander you and Caleb. Are we done?” My quick compliance seemed to surprise Isabella. But Caleb clutched his chest again, gasping for air. “Why does the perpetrator get to be so arrogant? We, the victims, are just supposed to accept a hollow apology? What about the psychological damage he’s caused?” Isabella wrapped an arm around him. “What do you want, Caleb? What will make you feel better?” “I can’t show my face in public,” he whimpered. “So let’s make it so he can’t either. Then we’ll be even.” He pulled a small, wicked-looking knife from his pocket. “I’ll just carve a few little words into your face, Bob. You’ll be ugly for a while, but once it heals, my anger will be gone. What you did could stain my reputation for life. This is just a small price to pay. You should be grateful.” My blood ran cold. I stared at the gleaming blade and looked to Isabella, begging her with my eyes. She turned her head away. “You did this to yourself, Bob,” she said. “Just take it.” I couldn’t believe it. This was the woman I had loved for eleven years. The next second, the blade bit into my cheek. I didn’t know what was on it, but besides the slicing pain, there was a searing, chemical burn. I screamed, thrashing, but Isabella held me down, her grip like iron. “Just a little longer, Bob,” she hissed in my ear, her voice demonic. “It’ll be over soon.” The agony was blinding. A surge of adrenaline gave me a strength I didn’t know I had. I broke free from her grasp and shoved Caleb to the ground. He had only fallen to a sitting position, but he let out a blood-curdling shriek. Isabella completely ignored my face, which was already starting to blister and swell. She rushed to Caleb’s side, frantically checking him for injuries. Once she was satisfied he was unharmed, she looked back at me, her face a mask of disgust. “Look at you, Bob. You’ve become a monster. He was just giving you a little punishment for what you did, and you attack him like that. If you keep this up, I really will never marry you.”

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My mother came to me privately and asked me to sell her house. “Your father is having some business difficulties,” she said. “I want to give him a little support.” The house was the only asset my grandmother had left her—a small, solid harbor meant solely for my mother. Now, for my father, she was throwing her harbor onto the market at a steep discount. A buyer contacted me quickly. The woman’s voice was warm and overly friendly. “Hello, could you possibly hold the property for me? My partner wants to gift it to me next week for my birthday.” I glanced at the photo on her phone screen, the one she had up with her ‘partner,’ and I froze. It was my dad. I managed a bright, professional smile, nodding at the woman. “Of course. I look forward to meeting your partner next month at the closing.” 01 After our conversation, I made sure to confirm the buyer’s information again and again. “Just so I can reserve the property, may I please take down the full name and a contact number for the purchasing party?” It wasn’t until I saw the forms—the name, the ID, everything matching my father’s—that the cold truth settled like a lead weight in my stomach. It really was him. The woman handed the paperwork back, her smile wide and self-satisfied. “Such a sweet girl. I hope you find a man who cherishes you as much as mine cherishes me someday.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Next week is my thirty-fifth birthday. He told me he’d get me anything I wanted, no limits. This little condo is older, sure, but the location is downtown. A quick renovation, just the two of us, and it’ll be perfect!” Her ‘kind’ words were a shard of glass in my chest. My grandmother’s last gift to my mother—her safe harbor—was being sold off at a loss so my father could turn it into a present for his mistress. I fought down the nausea, forcing myself to test the waters. “What if… what if your partner can’t come up with the full amount?” I tried to sound apologetic. “I don’t mean anything by it, but buying property is a huge deal. It would be a nightmare if the deal fell through later…” She threw her head back and laughed, as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “If he can’t scrape together a two-million-dollar down payment, why would I bother with him?” She lowered her voice to a proud whisper. “I’m not afraid to tell you, sweetheart, a few of his company’s new projects have hit the jackpot recently.” She shook her wrist, flashing a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet. “See this?” she said, preening. “He just picked this up for me last weekend. On a whim.” I stared at the bracelet, the hatred a bitter heat on my tongue. “Your partner is so romantic,” I choked out, my voice tight. “When my mom had her birthday, my dad just gave her a thermos he got from a grocery store promotion.” The woman raised a perfectly sculpted brow, smugness radiating off her. “Men, honey, they know who’s worth spending money on.” She ran a finger over the bracelet. “Last week, I mentioned I was craving Japanese. He immediately booked a table at that place—two hundred dollars a head. Has your mom ever been anywhere like that?” My stomach twisted. I remembered last month, my mother’s birthday, when my father had claimed to be too busy with work and told her to just make herself a bowl of noodles. I took a deep, shuddering breath, swallowing the screaming questions that wanted to burst out. “He sounds incredibly thoughtful,” I managed, pasting my real estate agent’s smile back on. “I’ll get the documents ready for next week’s contract signing, then.” She tossed her hair back, pleased. Her phone buzzed with a message alert. She glanced down, a bright curve to her lips. “Ugh, he’s rushing me. He wants me to test drive. He insists on replacing my old car with a new Porsche; says the old one doesn’t suit me anymore.” She deliberately flashed the screen at me. The chat name on the lock screen read “Hubby,” and the last message was a pinned location for a luxury dealership. My nails dug crescent moons into my palms. Yesterday, my mom had asked him to take her to get her commuter scooter repaired. He’d told her he was locked in with an important client. She swayed her hips as she left, leaving a heavy, cloying cloud of expensive perfume behind. Before she disappeared, I used the excuse of needing an easy channel for closing details to add the woman, Vanessa, on WeChat. That evening, Vanessa’s social media updated. [Test drive surprise! Someone special said white matches my new dress.] The photo showed my father, Mitchell, holding open a car door, beaming, the dealership logo visible behind him. I scrolled down. Last Wednesday: [Midnight feeding] My dad, in a pristine apron, cooking a lavish seafood feast in what looked like a custom kitchen. When my mother’s arthritis flared up and she couldn’t stand to cook, he told her to eat instant noodles and manage. Last Sunday: [Gift haul unboxing] A sofa piled high with designer shopping bags. The family account ledger from that same week showed he had refused my mom’s request for a new refrigerator. In every photo, my father’s smile was indulgent and doting, a completely different man from the one who sighed and complained about “tough times” at home. I screenshotted every image, saving the evidence. My phone vibrated with an incoming call. It was my father. “Sasha, any progress on the house?” His voice sounded weary, stressed. “Your mother’s been nagging. Try to talk some sense into her.” I stared at the screenshot of him, arm-in-arm with his mistress, test driving a luxury car. “Dad,” I said softly, “what time are you coming home today? Mom made braised pork.” He paused. “Can’t. Client dinner. Gotta schmooze.” He sighed, heavily. “Business is just so difficult these days.” The call ended. I pulled up my mother’s recently posted social media update. It was a photo of her standing next to our old, yellowed refrigerator. The caption read: [Suddenly stopped cooling. The meat smells a little… off. Any suggestions for salvaging it, ladies?] The first comment was from my father. [Don’t waste it. Boil it longer, you can still eat it.] I saved the last screenshot, locked my phone, and put it away. Next week, on the day of the signing, I would be presenting him with a substantial ‘birthday gift’ of my own. 02 When I pushed open the door, my mother, Eleanor, was crouched in the kitchen, scrubbing the floor. The water she wrung from the mop was grey with soapy residue, and her fingers were red and chapped from the cold water. Her sleeve was stained with the dark residue of the herbal medicine she’d boiled this morning. “Mom.” My voice was rough. “Stop scrubbing. Did you get the fridge fixed?” She looked up, forcing a smile. “Your dad said we need to hold out a little longer. We’ll replace it once business picks up.” I stared at her split, cracked fingernails, a sharp, cold pang gripping my heart. Last year, when my dad was dealing with a flare-up of his rheumatism, she had shelled walnuts by hand to crush into his medicine, tearing off half a nail in the process. All he had said was that women were “just too delicate.” And she, my sweet, loyal mother, had actually started blaming herself for being too fragile. “How did the house talk go?” She steadied herself on the counter, clutching her lower back. “Your dad was coughing all night. I need to get that money together quickly…” I cut her off. I held out my phone. “Just look at this first.” Confused, she took the phone. Her fingers slid across the screen, bringing up Vanessa’s feed. The posts rolled past: Mitch smiling next to the Porsche [Test drive surprise]; Mitch in the kitchen making an elaborate seafood dinner [Midnight feeding]; and the most recent, most galling post: [Someone special said my bracelet was too plain, didn’t match my new dress.] The accompanying image was the Van Cleef & Arpels counter, a sales associate packaging a matching necklace. “I checked the price,” I said, my voice low and hard. “Even the cheapest version of that necklace is over eight thousand dollars.” “Th-this is…?” My mother’s hands were shaking. “This is the client who came to view the house today. Guess who’s buying it for her? My dad.” I watched her face as I explained, my words cutting through the air. “He cries poverty to us, Mom, but he’s pouring money into her.” “Impossible…” Her lips trembled. “Your dad said money was so tight he even had to cut my prescription coverage for a few months…” I pulled up the bank transfer screenshots. “Tight?” I pointed at the large, frequent transfers to Vanessa. “Eighty thousand dollars sent over three months. The notes all say ‘wellness investment.’” She suddenly stumbled toward the bedroom, returning with a rusted metal box. It was stuffed with yellowing receipts: my dad’s physical therapy bills, his vitamin subscriptions, his supplements. On every one, she’d written in her delicate script: Mitch’s health is paramount. The irony was staggering. At the very bottom was a photocopy of my grandmother’s will: Property bequeathed to Eleanor. May it be a place of shelter and refuge. My mother looked at the receipts, then the will, and the tears finally burst through. “How… how could he do this to me?” she choked out. “It wasn’t enough to take my money, to take my life—he wanted to steal my last anchor, too!” “Your grandmother warned me again and again…” She sobbed, caressing the copy of the will. “This house, Sasha, this was my root.” I picked up a recent receipt. Last week, Mitch took five hundred dollars for “holistic supplements.” That same week, Vanessa’s social media showed a new designer handbag. “Look closely, Mom,” I said, holding up the phone to the receipt. “His ‘supplements’ are what she’s wearing.” She suddenly snatched the phone, swiping furiously. Every photo of Vanessa’s boasting was a lash across her face. Mitch cooking, Mitch jewelry shopping, Mitch test-driving a new car. “When I was in the hospital last year for my surgery…” She stared at his adoring smile in one photo. “He said the hospital signal was bad… he was busy being her personal chef…” Tears splashed onto the screen, and then, slowly, a soundless laugh broke from her. “No wonder he always complained my medicine tasted bitter…” She grabbed the stack of receipts and hurled them against the wall. “Using my life’s savings to bankroll that little tramp!” In the flurry of falling paper, her bent back slowly, painfully, straightened. “Sasha.” She wiped her eyes, her voice now flat and cold. “Next week, for the contract signing, I’m coming with you.”

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On our wedding night, my husband, Bobby, made a bet with his best friend. “I bet you’ll cheat within ten years. And when you do, half your company is mine.” Bobby slammed his fist into the wall, a spray of blood marking the impact. “Serena, you listen to me!” he roared, his eyes wild. “If I ever lay a hand on another woman, I swear on my life, may I die without an heir!” For the next nine years, he was the perfect husband. He transferred his entire salary to my account, his phone’s location was open to me 24/7, and he was never alone with another woman. When his best friend’s wife confessed her feelings for him in a drunken stupor, Bobby threw a glass of wine in her face. “Try that again,” he snarled, “and I’ll let your husband deal with you.” I was more certain than ever that he would never cheat. But on the eve of the ten-year anniversary of our bet, I received a link to an anonymous cloud drive. Inside were over a hundred videos. Sex tapes of Bobby and his best friend’s wife, twisted together in every conceivable position. In one, the woman was lying on our marital bed. She looked into the camera, flashed a victory sign, and whispered: “Ten years are up. He lost the bet. And I won him.” So, you like to gamble, I thought. Fine. Let’s play this to the end. … The lights were still on in the living room when Bobby came home late that night. Just like always, he loosened his tie and leaned in to kiss me. “Serena, why are you still up? Waiting for me?” I turned my head, his lips meeting empty air. I pushed the divorce agreement across the coffee table toward him. “Sign it. I’ll see you at the courthouse tomorrow morning. Nine a.m.” The smile on Bobby’s face froze. He picked up the papers, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Serena, stop playing games. Tomorrow is our tenth anniversary.” Just then, his phone buzzed on the table. It was Leo, his best friend. The husband of the woman in the videos. Bobby put the call on speaker, and Leo’s furious roar filled the room. “Bobby! Are you even human, you son of a bitch?! I treated you like a brother, and you played me for a fool!” Bobby’s face went white. He shot a panicked glance at me. “Leo, calm down…” “Calm down?! I’ve seen the videos! A hundred of them! You two really had fun, didn’t you? Trying out positions we never even got to!” Before Bobby could respond, another call came through. It was Kelly. He answered it immediately, his voice softening into a gentle murmur. “Kelly? Don’t be scared. Did he hit you? Where are you? Are you hurt?” He paced the living room, his voice a low, soothing balm for the woman on the other end of the line, while I sat there like an irrelevant stranger in my own home. A moment later, the front door was kicked open. Leo stormed in, his eyes bloodshot, with a sobbing Kelly trailing behind him. “Bobby!” Leo lunged, his fist connecting with Bobby’s jaw. Bobby staggered back, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. But he didn’t even look at Leo. His first instinct was to rush to Kelly’s side, shielding her trembling form with his own. “Leo, if you’re angry, take it out on me! Don’t you touch her!” “Touch her?” Leo laughed, a ragged, broken sound. He spun to face me. “Serena! Do you see this?! Nine years ago, to prove his love to you, he made a show of throwing wine in my wife’s face! And I actually believed he was some kind of saint! Turns out they were screwing each other the whole time! And now that it’s all out, his first move is to comfort this slut! He hasn’t even asked you if you’re okay!” Every word was a poisoned needle, piercing my heart until I couldn’t breathe. Bobby pulled Kelly closer, his eyes finally finding mine, a flicker of pleading in their depths. “Serena, this has nothing to do with Kelly. It’s my fault. All of it. Don’t blame her.” Even now, he was protecting her. Afraid I would hurt her, afraid I would blame her. And what about me? What was I? I rose to my feet and walked toward him, step by deliberate step. “Bobby,” I said, my voice steady, “do you remember our baby? The one we lost?” His body went rigid. The color drained from his face, and the hand protecting Kelly began to tremble. “Serena… don’t.” “Why not?” I smiled, but tears streamed down my face. “I remember that day. I was lying in a hospital bed, and you were holding my hand, crying like a child. You told me the pain was killing you. And you know what, Bobby? I actually believed you.” As I spoke, my gaze fixed on the way Kelly’s hand instinctively flew to cover her stomach. Understanding dawned on Leo’s face. He lunged at Kelly, tearing at her clothes, a manic grin spreading across his face as he stared at Bobby. “Pain? You weren’t in pain, you son of a bitch! You were fucking ecstatic! She’s pregnant! With your child! It happened that day! The same day Serena had her miscarriage! You were holding my wife in your arms while you texted Serena that you loved her! You’re not a man, you’re an animal!” BOOM. My world collapsed. On the day I lost my child, my husband was with another woman, creating a new life for themselves. Leo had completely lost it, screaming that he was going to kill Kelly, that he wanted them both dead. Without a second thought, Bobby shoved me aside, throwing himself in front of Kelly, shielding her with his body. I stumbled, my forehead cracking against the sharp corner of the coffee table. A searing pain, and then warmth. Blood trickled down, blurring my vision. The world spun. Through the chaos, I could hear Kelly’s terrified screams and Bobby’s desperate reassurances. “Kelly, don’t be scared! I’m here!” The blood from my head dripped onto the floor, one drop at a time, blooming like a dark, beautiful flower. The doctor gave me five stitches and told me to stay for observation. Bobby didn’t even glance my way. He was standing guard outside another room. Kelly had been shaken by the ordeal and was inside being examined. He paced back and forth like a caged animal. Nine years ago, when I was hospitalized with acute appendicitis, he’d stayed by my side for three days and nights straight, his eyes red from lack of sleep. I’d stroked his face, my heart aching for him. “Serena,” he’d whispered, “as long as you’re okay, nothing else matters.” Now, I was bleeding, and he couldn’t spare me a single look. A nurse came out of Kelly’s room. Bobby rushed forward. “How is she? Is the baby okay?” “Don’t worry, Mr. Vance. The fetus is stable. The mother is just a bit emotionally distressed.” He let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, looking more shaken than he had on the day I’d lost our baby. Finally, he seemed to remember me. He turned and walked over. “Serena, what did the doctor say? Does your head still hurt?” He reached out, as if to touch the bandage on my forehead. I snapped my head up, my eyes locking onto his. “Bobby, you told me you fell in love with me the first time we met.” His hand froze. His gaze flickered. “You said I was the only light in your life.” “You said you would die without me.” My voice was a whisper, but each word was a knife, carving up the mockery of our past. His throat worked, and he finally managed to speak. “Serena, my love for you… it was real…” “Real?” I laughed, and the laughter turned into sobs. “Then is it also real that the baby in her stomach was conceived on the same day I had a miscarriage?” The question struck him like a bolt of lightning, leaving him ashen-faced. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Just as I thought he might offer an explanation, even a lie, the door to Kelly’s room opened. A nurse poked her head out. “Mr. Vance, the patient is very unstable, she won’t stop crying. Could you please come in?” Bobby flinched, then immediately scrambled to his feet and headed for the door. He glanced back at me, a flicker of something like pity in his eyes. “Serena, wait for me here. Kelly… her situation is delicate right now.” There it was again. Always for Kelly. I looked at him and felt a surge of bitter amusement. My head was throbbing, the bandage already stained red with fresh blood. But in his eyes, my pain was worth less than a single one of Kelly’s tears. He didn’t even ask if my wound was serious before rushing into that room. I could hear his gentle, cooing voice through the door, each soft word another slice into my already shredded heart. I don’t know how I made it home. The huge villa was empty, as cold and silent as a tomb. I sat on the sofa all night. From dusk until dawn. Bobby never came back. Not a single call, not a single text. I knew where he was. He was at the hospital, watching over Kelly and their child. Just like he had watched over me nine years ago. No. He was even more attentive now, more anxious. The difference between love and non-love was painfully clear. I opened my social media. Kelly had posted an update. It was a photo of Bobby, asleep by her hospital bed, one hand resting protectively on her stomach. The caption read: With you here, I can rest easy. Thank you, my hero. It was followed by a heart emoji. I stared at the picture, my heart grinding into dust. In college, a senior wouldn’t stop harassing me. Bobby found out and beat the guy so badly he ended up in the hospital. He’d held me then, as I shook with fear, and whispered, “Don’t be scared, Serena. I’m your hero. No one will ever hurt you again.” Now, my hero was protecting another woman. And I was just the old, discarded thing he’d left behind. It wasn’t until ten in the morning that the front door finally opened. Bobby walked in, smelling of exhaustion and antiseptic. He saw me on the sofa and froze, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Serena, you… you’ve been up all night?” He came closer, bringing with him the faint, cloying scent of Kelly’s perfume. I didn’t answer. I just looked at him. The wound on my forehead had seeped blood overnight, matting my hair to my skin. I must have looked pathetic. His brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you go back to the hospital to get that changed? The doctor told you to stay for observation.” A harsh, ugly laugh escaped my lips. “You remember that?” My laughter seemed to needle him. His voice turned cold. “Serena, can you stop with the sarcasm? Kelly just had a major scare. I couldn’t leave her.” “She had a scare?” I stood up slowly, advancing on him. “And what about me? I have five stitches in my head. I bled all over the floor. Do I just deserve that?” “It’s not the same!” he blurted out. “Kelly’s pregnant! If you hadn’t provoked Leo, would he have gone crazy? Would Kelly have been in danger? You should be the one thinking about what you did!” I froze, the blood turning to ice in my veins. He was blaming me. For everything. In his mind, Kelly was the innocent, fragile victim who needed protection. And I was the vicious, spiteful villain who started it all. I remembered a time, long ago, when a colleague at work stole one of my designs and tried to frame me. Bobby had heard my side of the story and, without a moment’s hesitation, had his team gather evidence and destroy her career. “I trust my Serena,” he’d said, ruffling my hair. “No questions asked.” Now, the man who had promised unconditional trust was pointing a finger at me, telling me it was all my fault, all for the sake of another woman. I looked at the face I had loved for ten years and saw a complete stranger. All the love, the resentment, the bitterness… it all vanished in that one moment. “Bobby,” I said, my voice eerily calm, “let’s get a divorce.” I pushed the signed papers toward him. “If there are no objections, sign it.” He glanced at the document, his eyes turning to ice. “Serena, what’s the point of this? Kelly and Leo’s marriage was a mistake. She was unhappy. I was just trying to comfort her.” “Comfort her?” I sneered. “Comfort her until she got pregnant with your child?” He didn’t deny it. Instead, he became defiant. “Serena, this is our family’s bloodline. I can finally give my parents a grandchild. Maybe you should blame your own barren womb. Ten years, and you couldn’t even give our family an heir. In a way, Kelly was helping you!” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I couldn’t breathe. I snapped. SLAP. The force of my hand striking his face echoed in the silent room. “You make me sick! These ten years, I must have been blind!” Bobby clutched his reddening cheek, his voice a low snarl. “If you want a divorce, fine. But not now. The annual company conference is in two days, and as my wife, you are required to be there.” SLAM! He stormed out, leaving me alone in the wreckage. On the day of the Vance Group’s annual conference, I arrived in a stunning evening gown, not as a wife, but as a shareholder. Kelly, her baby bump prominent, swept towards me. She leaned in close, a mocking smile on her lips. “You lost, Serena. Today, I’m going to show everyone who the most important woman in Bobby’s life really is.” Before I could react, she grabbed my wrist with surprising strength and slammed my hand onto her pregnant belly. In the same instant, she let out a blood-curdling scream and threw herself backward. “Aaaah—!” The entire ballroom erupted in chaos. Bobby’s face went sheet-white. He sprinted across the room, catching her just before she hit the floor. “My stomach… it hurts so much…” Kelly wailed, tears streaming down her pale face. She clung to Bobby’s arm with one hand, while the other pointed a trembling finger at me. “Serena… I know you hate me, but the baby is innocent… Why did you push me?!” Bobby, cradling Kelly, looked at me with pure, unadulterated venom. “Serena, I never knew you could be so evil!” “I didn’t,” I said, my voice shaking despite myself. “You dare deny it?!” he roared. “Do you want them both dead?! If anything happens to Kelly, I will destroy you! Security! Get this crazy woman out of here!” The flashbulbs of the press exploded around me. The air was thick with whispers. “She pushed a pregnant woman… What kind of monster is she?” “The barren hen is jealous of the one who can lay eggs.” “Get out of the Vance family, you vicious bitch!” The accusations washed over me, a tidal wave of hatred. Hundreds of eyes, like poisoned daggers, were aimed at me. I was frozen, unable to defend myself. Bobby carefully lifted Kelly into his arms. The look he gave me was devoid of any lingering affection, filled only with rage. Just then, a hand closed around my wrist. It was Leo. “Come with me.” Away from the crowd, he let go and pulled a USB drive from his pocket. “What’s this?” I asked. “Every hotel record, every bank transfer between Bobby and Kelly for the past ten years. And some… other highlights.” I stiffened. Leo’s voice was tinged with a desperate, hollow laugh. “Yesterday, that bastard asked me to step aside and ‘let them be happy.’ To bless their happy little family.” A cold smile touched my lips. “Did those two really think Serena Vance was a doormat they could just walk all over? Everything they’ve done to me… I will repay them a hundredfold.” Under the shocked stares of everyone in the room, I walked to the main stage and plugged the USB drive into the central computer. The massive screen behind the stage lit up. Bobby, who was about to carry Kelly out, froze. His face went so white he nearly collapsed. On the screen, crystal clear for everyone to see, was security footage from our bedroom. Bobby and Kelly, tangled together on our bed. Gasps rippled through the crowd. The people who had been screaming at me just moments before were now silent. Bobby’s face was no longer just pale; it was the grey of a corpse. He stared at the screen, his body trembling uncontrollably. He couldn’t accept that the perfect image he had so carefully curated was being destroyed in such a public, humiliating way. “No… that’s not real… it’s not real…” he muttered, lost and broken. He staggered backward and fell to the floor, the light gone from his eyes. “What is the tech team doing?” Bobby, on the stage, roared. “Turn it off! Turn it off now!” He lunged for the computer, but Leo was there, blocking his path. The crowd murmured, their attention glued to the screen. On the bed, Kelly looked directly at the camera and smiled, a triumphant, smug expression on her face. Bobby froze, his face a mask of horror. The video’s audio kicked in, followed by a recording of their conversations. Kelly’s voice, sweet and seductive. “Bobby, darling, the ten years are almost up. Are you really going to lose half your company to Leo?” Bobby’s voice, full of contempt. “It’s just a bet. That idiot Serena actually believed my whole devoted husband act. After the bet is over, I’ll find a way to get Leo’s shares too. The whole company will be ours.” “And your wife?” “Her? She’s just a pretty vase with no connections. Without me, she’s nothing.” Dead silence. Then, an uproar. The camera flashes were blinding, aimed at Bobby on the stage and me in the crowd. The board members’ faces were thunderous. “You ungrateful whelp!” Bobby’s father, shaking with rage, pointed at his son. His mother’s eyes rolled back, and she fainted. “Mom!” “Someone call an ambulance!” The scene descended into chaos. Bobby charged toward me, his eyes blazing. “Serena! You did this! You poisonous bitch!” He raised his hand to strike me. Leo stepped in front of me and delivered a swift, hard kick to Bobby’s chest. “You touch her, Bobby, and I’ll kill you.” Leo’s eyes were murderous. I pushed him aside, picked up a microphone, and walked onto the stage. The noise instantly died down. I looked at the man I once loved, now a pathetic heap on the floor, and felt nothing but disgust. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, my voice clear and cold. “As you can see, this ten-year marriage was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated business fraud.” “I, Serena Vance, am hereby announcing my immediate divorce from Bobby Vance.” I paused, my gaze sweeping over the horrified faces of the board members. “Furthermore, as a shareholder of the Vance Group, I, along with the other victim in this matter, Mr. Leo Vance, will be launching a full investigation into this fraudulent scheme. We will pursue legal action against all responsible parties.” I dropped the mic. With cameras flashing all around us, I took Leo’s arm and walked out of the ballroom, my head held high. Behind me, Bobby’s desperate, fading roars were the last sound I heard.

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The snarky little post I’d made on The Sprawl—a private forum for rich, disgruntled wives—had exploded overnight. I had vented about finding yet another piece of lingerie that wasn’t mine. Now, I watched the comments roll in, but one private message stood out, a blue-check account I didn’t recognize: @UnattainableIdeal: He didn’t cheat. He just wants you to flirt with him, Avery. He wants you to stop being so buttoned-up and boring. I snapped a photo of the pale pink lace slip I’d just pulled from between the sofa cushions—a damning piece of evidence if ever there was one. @AveryThorne: Are you sure about that? The typing bubble appeared and vanished several times. A few seconds of silence stretched. @UnattainableIdeal: …He wants you to wear it. I was done with the whole ridiculous, degrading scavenger hunt. This was the tenth piece of intimate apparel I’d found in our Boston penthouse in as many months. I ignored the anonymous user and grabbed my phone to call my lawyer, Leo. “Did you finally draft those papers?” 1 Miles Thorne pushed the door open, his expression as cool and detached as the polished granite countertop in the kitchen. I was sitting on the Italian leather sofa, staring straight at him. Next to me, the pale pink lace slip was a glaring, obvious spot against the charcoal gray cushion. Miles glanced over. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, brushed past me, landed on the lingerie, and then moved on without a flicker of acknowledgment. He simply walked toward the stairs. The sheer dismissal was a slap in the face. Impotent rage—that’s what the feeling was. He was bringing women into our home, leaving their secrets scattered for me to find, and he couldn’t even bother to offer a lie. He treated me like a ghost in my own marriage mausoleum. I snatched up my phone and went back to my post on The Sprawl, typing furiously. @AveryThorne: My husband is cheating, fine. But does he have to keep leaving lace slips and silky camisoles everywhere? What is his goal? To provoke me? Can’t he keep his affairs out of the house?! The comments poured in. WTF, is he serious? You haven’t yelled at him? He’s definitely doing it on purpose. Why are you staying, girl? Do you like the drama? I replied with cold cynicism: Look, he might be a player, but the man has money. Serious money. The collective wisdom of the internet told me to swallow my pride and stop looking for the evidence. A trade-off, Avery. While I was wallowing in this melancholy, the private message popped up again. @UnattainableIdeal: He didn’t cheat. He just wants you to flirt with him, Avery. He wants you to stop being so buttoned-up and boring. I narrowed my eyes. How could you possibly know that? No reply. I scoffed, taking the picture of the slip again and sending it. You sure? If you don’t find this repulsive, you have my respect. (Followed by a strong-arm emoji). @UnattainableIdeal: …He wants you to wear it. I actually laughed. This person was a complete freak. I was genuinely tired of this. I hadn’t looked at the account again, dialing my lawyer, Leo. “Is the divorce agreement ready?” Last month, I’d found a satin bunny costume tucked deep under the master bed. That was the last straw. I’d called Leo that night. But Miles and I had been married for five years, and I’d grown very accustomed to the life his money afforded. There was also the residual, old feeling of affection. I had loved him—until his nonstop work, his constant absence, slowly chipped away at the foundation until there was nothing left but two strangers sharing a very expensive zip code. My hesitation had stalled the process. I kept thinking I needed the right time to talk to him. Now, I thought, maybe he’s been trying to talk to me all along. Maybe this whole lingerie scavenger hunt was his clumsy, silent plea for me to end it. Fine. I’ll give him what he wants. Leo replied, “It’s been ready for a week, Avery. But I’m out of the country. Do you want to come to the firm and pick it up, or should I have my assistant courier it to you?” “Courier it,” I sighed. “Your firm is practically in the next state. I’m too lazy for that drive…” A cold voice cut through the silence of the room. “Avery. Who are you talking to?” I instantly hung up, turning to face him, forcing a casual look. “I thought you were in your study.” Miles stood on the bottom step, his eyebrows low, his gaze locked onto me. “Who were you just on the phone with?” Was he interrogating me? The man who was currently having an affair? I glared back. “Mind your own business.” I yanked the lace slip fully out of the couch, marched toward him, and threw it right at his chest. “Why don’t you mind your own first.” 2 Back in the bedroom, a message from my friend, Liv, flashed on my screen. Liv: Avery, seriously, you need to watch Miles. I heard he’s getting way too cozy with his new executive assistant. She followed up with a photo. Miles was leaning over a document, his face obscured by shadow, while a pretty, slender woman stood right next to him, leaning in, their shoulders practically touching. It was an unnervingly intimate angle. I let out a cold laugh. When was this taken? Liv: Just yesterday. I’d been at my spa retreat yesterday. That explained the fresh piece of lace on the couch. My fingers tightened faintly around my phone. It was a strange feeling—not sharp pain, but a deep, numbing ache of betrayal. But we were on the verge of divorce, so those ambiguous feelings didn’t matter. I thanked Liv. I noticed the annoying user, @UnattainableIdeal, had messaged me one second ago. @UnattainableIdeal: Does this make you angry? That your husband is doing this? My eyes widened. I typed back furiously. Is it not obvious enough?! Does he even see me anymore?! @UnattainableIdeal: It sounds like you really care about him. I was speechless. What nerve. The person continued: You should try to be proactive. Go to him, try to flirt a little, and tell him you’re bothered. I stared at the last phrase: tell him you’re bothered. It wasn’t really jealousy, it was disgust, but I was too tired to explain. He’s cheating. You think that’ll work? @UnattainableIdeal: It will. The certainty in that one word was maddening. I clicked on their profile. Just a bunch of blurry photos of houseplants. Nothing useful. @UnattainableIdeal: Most men are like this. I snorted. I sent a dry: Oh. I just wanted this person to stop, so I added: Fine. I’ll try it later. The account went quiet. Thank God. In reality, I turned off my phone and yawned. My eyelids felt heavy. Sleep beckoned. The world was ending, but first, I needed a nap. 3 I woke up starving in the middle of the night. I stumbled downstairs, groggy, planning to snatch a yogurt from the fridge. A sudden, low voice startled me into wakefulness. “Avery.” I nearly dropped the carton, whipping my head around. Miles was on the sofa, his long legs crossed, staring into the dark room. By the sliver of moonlight filtering through the window, I could just make out the intense focus of his eyes on me. I stammered. “W-w-what are you doing sitting in the living room?” His voice was husky, a low grate. “I forgot. What were you doing in the room?” I gave him a baffled look. “Sleeping, Miles. I woke up from a deep sleep. It’s the middle of the night.” Was it my imagination, or did he visibly freeze for a second? I grabbed my yogurt and waved dismissively. “I’m going back to bed. You should too.” Miles stared at me, his lips parted as if he was about to speak, but he ultimately remained silent. I woke up the next day just before noon. The first message I saw was from Liv. Liv: You’re not going to the Thorne corporate event? The updated guest list for the big commercial gala listed Miles’s new executive assistant as his date. As his date, Avery. Did you two have a fight? I quietly read the lines. A faint, bitter smile touched my lips. We were getting divorced soon. I didn’t need to be upset about this. But still… It was true Miles and I lacked passion, but we had always maintained a kind of stiff, polite respect. Now, with the lingerie and the public date, it seemed clear: he had found someone he genuinely cared about and was deliberately pushing me out. I would grant him his wish. The annoying user popped up again. @UnattainableIdeal: Did you try my advice? Did it work? Persistent, I thought. I hadn’t had the slightest intention of going to Miles and confessing my feelings. I sent a cold laugh. No, it didn’t work. We’re getting divorced. 4 The reply was instantaneous. A bright red exclamation mark followed by a two-word message. @UnattainableIdeal: Don’t do it! I raised an eyebrow. He was more stressed than I was. Why not? he asked. I gave a dry chuckle, typing quickly. He’s taking another woman to the biggest corporate event of the year. What am I supposed to stay for? To cheer them on? Silence. A long five minutes passed before a reply came. @UnattainableIdeal: Maybe he just wants to make you jealous. He’s hoping you’ll demand to go with him. I stared at the screen and almost burst out laughing. This person’s reasoning was truly astonishing. To justify this much callous behavior. I was done debating. I ended the conversation. I’m not going. He can bring the whole staff if he wants. I don’t want to see his stone-cold face anyway. I exited the chat. Leo’s firm was efficient. The next afternoon, the assistant couriered the package. I tore it open and pulled out the divorce papers. Two copies, all the necessary information filled out. All it needed were Miles’s and my signatures. I picked up a pen and, with careful, deliberate strokes, signed my name on the line for the wife. A hollow feeling settled in my chest. Five years. Just like that. I placed the signed papers prominently on the living room coffee table, packed a small suitcase, and headed to my own place—a pre-nup loft I’d bought before the wedding. I needed a quiet place to contemplate how I would spend the rest of my life after taking half of Miles Thorne’s fortune. 5 I spent two days at the loft, sleeping and eating, catching up on the emotional exhaustion of the last few years. On the third day, my phone nearly melted from Liv’s frantic calls. Liv: Avery! Are you really not coming?! Your husband actually brought the little secretary! Holy hell, Chloe is wearing a custom couture gown! You need to get here! If the Queen doesn’t show up, the mistress takes the throne! I read Liv’s chain of messages and looked at the few candid photos she’d snapped. Miles was in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, his expression utterly impassive. Next to him was the secretary, Chloe. Young, beautiful, and in a white mermaid-style dress that made her look like a pure, delicate flower. A knot formed in my stomach. It was a lie to say I wasn’t bothered. But then I reminded myself that I was divorcing him. Why should I care? I texted Liv back. I’m not coming. They can be happy together. I’m busy cashing out. Liv: …Are you serious? It’s Miles Thorne! Yes. It was Miles Thorne. The hardest man to catch at Harvard Business School, the one who’d pursued me for a full year before I finally agreed to marry him. The man who, despite his coldness after marriage, never once held back his wealth. My resolve wavered. Just then, the mysterious user popped up again. @UnattainableIdeal: Are you really not going to the event? Your husband looks incredible tonight. If you don’t go, he will be very disappointed. I stared at the messages, a surge of pure fury hitting me. Disappointed? He brought another woman as his date and he expected me to cheer him on? I typed, pressing down the rage. I don’t care. @UnattainableIdeal: If you went, he would be happy. He got you a gift. A gift? I gave a cold laugh. Was it another lace slip? Or something even more bizarre? I was about to block him when Liv’s call came through again, her voice vibrating with excitement. “Avery! Check the trending page!” I opened the social media app. #ThorneCEOandNewFlame was sitting at number one. I clicked in, and high-resolution photos and videos of the gala flooded the screen. Miles’s god-like handsome face was flawless under the lights. He and Chloe did, indeed, look like a perfect couple. The comments section was a battlefield. OMG! Who is that woman? Not his wife, Avery! Where have you been? They’ve been playing their own games for years. The secretary has serious game to land Miles Thorne. Am I the only one who thinks the CEO looks miserable? Like someone owes him ten million dollars. I couldn’t help but smile at the “miserable” comment. It was true; Miles in the photos looked like his jaw was set in concrete. As I was enjoying the schadenfreude, Liv shrieked into the phone. “Did you see it?! The necklace around her neck! The Heart of the Ocean! Miles bought it at auction last week for nine million dollars!” My heart plummeted. I had seen the news about that auction. I even joked with Liv that some woman was incredibly lucky. I just didn’t expect that woman to be his secretary. 6 He bought me a designer handbag for my birthday. The most expensive was maybe a few hundred thousand. It wasn’t that he was stingy. It was that he thought I wasn’t worth the grand gesture. A strange mix of bitterness and white-hot anger rushed through me. I took a deep breath. “Liv,” I said, my voice steady. “I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything!” “Send your emergency gown and your stylist to my loft. Now. Immediately.” Liv’s efficiency was startling. Within half an hour, my single-bedroom loft looked like a celebrity dressing room backstage. “Avery, you finally snapped? We’re crashing the party?” Liv asked, directing the stylist while practically bouncing with excitement. I sat in front of the mirror, looking at my slightly pale, tired face. My eyes, however, were blazing. “Crash it?” I smirked, letting the stylist pin up my hair. “I’m going to reclaim what’s mine.” I was still Miles Thorne’s wife. His date, publicly, had to be me. If a divorce was happening, I would be the one kicking him out, not the other way around. The stylist and makeup artist were world-class. In less than an hour, the mirror reflected a radiant, fiercely beautiful woman. A strapless gown of siren-red silk made my skin look porcelain. The high slit in the skirt gave fleeting glimpses of my long legs. My long, dark hair was swept up, a few loose curls framing a face defined by a powerful red lip. “Holy shit, Avery. If you dressed like this all the time, that secretary wouldn’t even exist!” Liv stared, slack-jawed. I smiled, a predatory curve of my lips, and grabbed a tiny clutch. “Let’s go. Time for the main event.”

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