Category: English

I’ve always been the type to get straight to the point. So when I found a photo of a strange girl sleeping in my sniper husband’s private album, I didn’t hesitate. I slid a set of divorce papers across the table to him. Either sign them, or cut ties with her for good. Aiden Pierce rubbed his temples, cutting me off, his voice laced with irritation. “She was just a hostage I rescued on my last mission. The kid’s got PTSD, I can’t just abandon her. Do you have to make a federal case out of this?” He leaned back, his tone hardening. “Besides, without me, where would you even go? You’d have nowhere to land.” His words struck me dumb. I just stood there, frozen. He must have seen the look on my face because he immediately realized he’d crossed a line and started to backpedal. But before he could spin some half-hearted apology, I asked softly, “Does ‘taking care of a hostage’ include holding her while she sleeps?” … My voice was barely a whisper, but it hit Aiden like a sniper’s bullet. His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid. The casual arrogance vanished, replaced by a cold, guarded alertness. He took a half-step back. “How do you know that?” How did I know? Because his dear Miss Sierra couldn’t wait to come and tell me herself. Before I could answer, Aiden’s posture softened completely. “Clara, Sierra’s not like the others.” “You don’t need to go after her,” he said, his voice almost pleading. I guessed he was afraid I’d do what I’d done before—hunt down any woman who got too close, just as soon as I caught a whiff of rumor. Afraid I’d leave Sierra a social pariah, just like all the others. But not this time. This time, I was done. I genuinely wanted a divorce. The way he was protecting her was proof enough that this girl was different. After all, he’d always let me deal with the other women from his past scandals however I saw fit. He called her “well-behaved”? If she were so innocent, why would she have sought me out? But I wasn’t going to be the one to expose her. Aiden would find out the truth on his own soon enough. “If she’s so perfect, wouldn’t it be better for you to just divorce me and marry her?” I suggested, my voice even. Aiden shook his head, his answer swift and absolute. “Clara, you will always be my wife. I will never divorce you.” A flare of anger ignited in my chest, but it was quickly extinguished by his cold, matter-of-fact tone. “So, you don’t have to bother Sierra. She’s no threat to your position.” The calculated way he said it, the way he reduced our marriage to a “position,” made my stomach turn. When had he started measuring love in terms of profit and loss? He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that when we first married, he was just a junior officer living in a cramped little house on the base. “Aiden,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “If all I ever wanted was your power and status, why would I have married you back then?” He stared at me for a long moment, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Clara, before you say something like that, take a look at what you’re wearing.” His eyes raked over me. “Without me, could you afford those five-figure outfits? That six-figure jewelry?” He closed the distance between us, pulling me into a rough embrace. His warm breath ghosted against my ear. “My paychecks go to your account, and my heart is with you.” The faint, metallic scent of gunpowder still clung to him from the training grounds. “As for where my body is… don’t be too demanding, alright?” I struggled against his grip, but he held me fast, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched my futile efforts. Finally, he let me go with a low chuckle. He leaned in close, his dark eyes boring into mine. “People who get too greedy, Clara… they end up with nothing.” Just then, his phone buzzed. Sierra. The call shattered the tense standoff and, in a way, saved me from further humiliation. He was right. On my own, I could never afford this life. Without him, I really had nowhere to go. Ever since my mother died and my father remarried, I hadn’t had a home to call my own. I twisted the diamond ring off my finger. He’d had it custom-made after his last commendation ceremony. I remembered the price tag clearly: seventy thousand dollars. The necklace I was wearing was part of the set, another two hundred twenty thousand. The dress I had on was nearly six thousand. Money I could never earn in a lifetime. But so what? I didn’t need jewelry. I could wear simple clothes. Instead of making me reconsider, Aiden’s words only strengthened my resolve. Over the next few days, I made the rounds of every law firm in the area. Each one turned me down. When I tried to file for a contested divorce directly, the clerks at the courthouse were tight-lipped and unhelpful. I dragged my exhausted body back to our house on the base one evening to find Aiden sitting in the living room, calmly reading the newspaper. “Find a lawyer willing to take your case, Clara?” he asked without looking up. His single question confirmed it. He was the one pulling the strings, making sure my efforts were fruitless. “I told you,” he said, folding the paper. “This divorce isn’t happening.” He held out a handkerchief. “Wipe your face.” I slapped it out of his hand. He just chuckled, unfazed. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve been cooped up in this house for too long. You’ve forgotten that the world isn’t black and white.” I said nothing, just turned away with a cold smirk. He wasn’t wrong. The past few days had certainly been an education. “Sierra had a moment of weakness, that’s why she bothered you,” he said, his tone turning conciliatory. “I promise she will never appear before you again.” “And you?” I challenged, meeting his eyes. “Can you promise to cut ties with her completely?” He sighed. “Clara, don’t be so naive. If it’s not Sierra, it’ll be someone else…” I let my gaze drop, tuning him out. My eyes fell on the plush, custom-ordered rug, but my mind was already elsewhere, mentally packing a suitcase for a volunteer trip. That morning, I’d seen a recruitment notice for the Spring Blossom Foundation’s “Classroom Project.” On my way to another failed lawyer’s appointment, I’d submitted my application. I’d just received the email—I was accepted. If I couldn’t get a divorce here, maybe leaving was the next best thing. When the volunteer term was over, I could find a lawyer in another state. Seeing that I was no longer arguing, Aiden stopped his lecture. After a moment of silence, he tried again. “I can’t cut her off completely, but I promise she will stay out of the public eye. She will never threaten your position,” he said. “All my money is yours. Why get worked up over something as meaningless as feelings?” He reached for me, but I stepped aside. A frustrated hiss escaped his lips. “What more do you want? Look at the guys in my unit. Which one of them isn’t living like this?” I knew. Of course, I knew. The men he worked with were far worse. One of his buddies who got promoted at the same time now had a string of women on the side. But just because everyone else did it, did that mean we had to? Seeing the irritation etched on his face, I swallowed the words. “I’m tired,” I said. “I’m going to bed.” The constant running around and hitting brick walls had left me emotionally and physically drained. I was asleep within fifteen minutes. When I woke again, the setting sun was bleeding across the horizon. My phone was lit up on the nightstand—a friend request from the Spring Blossom Foundation. I accepted, and a message came through almost immediately. [Ms. Evans, we’ll be meeting at the airport in one week to fly out as a group.] After confirming, they sent over a packet of documents and a list of things to prepare. It had been a long time since I’d dealt with this kind of paperwork, and it was a struggle, but for the first time in months, a feeling of lightness settled in my chest. It wasn’t until I saw Aiden at the base hospital a few days later that I understood why he’d been so scarce. He was with Sierra. They were walking into the OB/GYN clinic together. I glanced at my own appointment number on the screen. It would be a while. I found a seat a discreet distance away and watched. After some time, Sierra emerged from the exam room, her face glowing with a joy she couldn’t hide. A cold premonition washed over me. Sierra was pregnant. But Aiden… Aiden had a low sperm count. We’d been married for years without a child. If she was really pregnant, would Aiden finally agree to the divorce for the sake of his child? I stood up and walked toward them, no longer trying to hide. The thought of a potential divorce brought an involuntary smile to my face. But that smile froze on my lips. “Get rid of it.” I was only a few feet away when I heard Aiden’s voice, as cold and sharp as ice. Sierra clearly hadn’t expected it. The joy drained from her face, leaving it a ghostly white. She swayed on her feet. She looked at him with pleading eyes, but he remained unmoved, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features at her silent disobedience. “I will not acknowledge this child. And you will not have it,” he stated flatly. “I, Aiden Pierce, will not have an illegitimate child.” But Sierra seemed to misinterpret his meaning entirely. Her eyes landed on me. Without a second thought, she rushed over and dropped to her knees in front of me. “Mrs. Pierce, I know I’m shameless, I know I’m filth,” she cried, her hands clutching at my legs. “But please, I’m begging you, let me have this baby.” I couldn’t shake her off. I stood stiffly, afraid to move in case I fell, my eyes shooting daggers at Aiden. This is what you call not bothering me? “Mrs. Pierce, please, it’s a life,” she sobbed. “Please, I’m begging you.” A crowd was starting to form, their whispers filling the sterile hallway as they pieced together the drama unfolding before them. With every pointing finger and hushed comment, the blood drained from Aiden’s face, his expression growing darker by the second. And Sierra? Her shamelessness was breathtaking. Of the three of us, I was the only one drowning in humiliation. “Sierra.” Aiden’s voice was a blade of ice from behind me. The kneeling woman flinched. She turned her tear-streaked face to him, a desperate hope for pity in her eyes. Impossible, I thought. This was Aiden Pierce, the man who had clawed his way up from a grunt to a commander in the Special Forces. His heart was harder than anyone’s. But I was wrong. Aiden looked at Sierra, and for a fleeting moment, I saw something shift in his eyes. He let out an almost inaudible sigh before stepping forward and helping her to her feet. “Stop crying,” he said, his voice softer now. “We’ll talk about this back home.” He gently wiped her tears, his arm circling her shoulders to support her. Was this really Aiden? I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. By the time I snapped out of my stupor, they were gone. I was left standing alone in the hospital corridor like a fool, the murmurs of strangers ringing in my ears. I tilted my head back, forcing the tears back. What a waste. The whole spectacle had made me miss my appointment. I’d have to get back in line. It was nearly dark by the time I finished my own medical check-up and got home. I stepped inside but didn’t turn on the lights, standing in the entryway and letting my eyes adjust to the gloom. Every corner of this house was decorated to my taste, but now, it all just made me feel sick. Every surface was tainted with the memory of him. “You’re back?” Aiden’s voice came from the bedroom. He emerged a moment later, a glass of water in his hand. He offered it to me, a gesture that felt sickeningly familiar—the prelude to him asking for something. “Sierra won’t terminate the pregnancy,” he began, placing the glass on the table in front of me. He watched me, testing the waters. “I was thinking… we could let her have the baby, and you could raise it as our own.” I turned to look at him, and he flinched, his gaze darting away. As if realizing his own cowardice, he forced himself to meet my eyes again, his expression hardening into one of righteous justification. “The Fletchers did the same thing, didn’t they? The son who runs their company now was the one they brought home from the outside.” My heart sank into a black abyss. The Fletchers. They were the laughingstock of our entire circle. The illegitimate son was brought home, and he ended up driving the legitimate heir out of the family. Now, the wife and the mistress live under the same roof. I remembered the first time Aiden had told me about them, the disdain thick in his voice. And now, he had become the very thing he once despised. Perhaps my stare was too intense because he suddenly changed the subject. “What were you at the hospital for today? Are you feeling sick? Your physical last month came back completely normal.” … I lowered my eyes, ignoring his hollow concern. “Fine,” I said softly. The fake pleasantries stopped instantly. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Aiden, if Sierra wants to have that baby, let her.” His face broke into a wide, relieved grin. He’d completely forgotten to ask about my health. He’d completely forgotten that I had never said I would raise the child. He was the one who couldn’t have children, not me. With my “permission,” Aiden’s visits to Sierra’s apartment became more frequent and less discreet. Soon, the day to leave for the volunteer trip arrived. Aiden came home unexpectedly early that morning. When I got out of bed, he was already sitting in the living room, looking like he’d been there for hours. As I made breakfast in the kitchen, I heard him speak from behind me. “Clara.” “I just… have a bad feeling about something.” My hand, holding the knife, paused for a fraction of a second. I was silently grateful I’d moved my packed suitcase into the bedroom the night before. I hadn’t intentionally hidden the trip from him, but I didn’t want him to know either, fearing he’d create some new obstacle. I continued preparing the food, ignoring the unease in his voice. His soliloquy eventually died in the face of my silence. After breakfast, just as he was about to leave for the base, I called out to him. “Aiden, come back here after work today.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning back in surprise. I forced a small, unfamiliar smile. “There’s something I need to give you.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of pleasure in his eyes at my sudden initiative. But all I wanted was for him to be here to see the divorce papers I’d be leaving for him. By the time our plane landed at the Westbrook regional airport, my phone was long dead. The teaching site was in the most remote mountain area of the county. Most of the young adults had left for work in the cities, leaving only the elderly and children behind. After an afternoon of being jostled around on winding roads, the bus finally rumbled onto a smoother path. Chloe, the young woman who had first contacted me and was now our team’s logistics coordinator, was sitting next to me. “Clara, are you okay?” I managed a weak smile and a small shake of my head. I hadn’t realized how bad my motion sickness was. “We’re almost there. Just hang on.” As the road smoothed out, my nausea began to subside. I peeked through the curtain at the scenery outside, and a strange sense of familiarity washed over me. When we finally arrived at our destination, I knew why. We were only a few miles from Aiden’s hometown. The very next town over. I couldn’t believe the coincidence. Still, I wasn’t worried about running into anyone I knew. I had only stayed here for a month when we first got married. Aiden’s grandfather had insisted we hold the wedding on home turf. Our base housing in Riverton hadn’t been assigned yet, so we’d stayed in his old family home. “Clara, would you mind sharing a dorm room with me?” Chloe asked after she finished assigning the rooms. I nodded. “Of course.” After unpacking, with the unique chorus of country insects as a lullaby, I fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in months. The next day, I was up at dawn. Chloe was still asleep, so I tiptoed out to wash up. After a simple breakfast, I walked with the other teachers to the school. The four large characters above the school building made me stop in my tracks: The Pierce-Evans Project. It was from a lifetime ago. Back when Aiden had just been promoted to commander, he received his first significant bonus. His comrades used theirs to buy things for their families. Aiden used his to start this project. He said he wanted every child from his hometown to have the chance to get an education. But somewhere along the way, between our endless fights and growing distance, the project had been forgotten. Maybe that’s why I felt an instant connection to this place. I was filled with energy all day. When school let out, the gate was crowded with parents picking up their children. I stood to the side, observing. The area was poor, but the parents clearly valued education. Almost every child in the lower grades had someone waiting for them. The kids were bright and cheerful, waving goodbye enthusiastically even to us, the new teachers. As the crowd thinned, I prepared to head back. Suddenly, a booming voice called out from behind me. “You’re old man Pierce’s granddaughter-in-law, aren’t you?” “Old man Pierce’s granddaughter-in-law.” I hadn’t heard that title in a decade. I never thought I’d actually run into someone from his past here. I turned to see an elderly woman with white hair and neat clothes, likely one of Aiden’s grandfather’s old friends. I was about to deny it—who would know the difference out here?—but before I could speak, she let out a triumphant cry. “It is you! It really is old Pierce’s granddaughter-in-law!” Her shout drew the attention of everyone nearby. “City life must be good for you. It’s been over ten years, and you’re still as young and beautiful as ever,” she said, bustling over and grabbing my hand. “We have you and your husband to thank for this wonderful school.” …

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When tabloids exposed Marcus Sterling’s affair with a college student, I brushed it off. As his wife—the woman he pursued for seven years—I trusted him completely. Then, a pregnant girl showed up at our son’s birthday party, and I became the joke of New York’s elite. Marcus begged forgiveness, blaming alcohol and vowing to handle it. I believed him—until five years later, at a spa, I overheard a young woman in the next room complain about postpartum changes, then coo into the phone: “Marcus, if I hadn’t had your baby… I don’t want money—I want you to leave your wife!” My hand froze on the doorknob. By the time I regained composure, I was already filing for divorce. He wouldn’t need to leave me—I was already gone. … The moment I clicked “confirm,” my phone rang. It was Marcus. “Audrey,” he said, his voice casual, almost bored. “Something’s come up. I won’t be home tonight.” I touched my face, tracing the faint pinpricks from the countless injections I’d endured. All for him. Because he once said, “Audrey, a woman’s skin starts to go after thirty. I love the feel of an eighteen-year-old.” So I, a woman who wouldn’t even pierce her ears, subjected myself to needles to please him. And all the while, he had another child with another woman. “Okay,” I said. My calm reply seemed to catch him off guard. He was about to say something else, but I hung up. Then, I sent him a photo of the woman from the spa. Her name was Chloe. “See you at the courthouse,” I texted. Less than half an hour later, he was home. He didn’t look like he did the first time I caught him—there was no guilt in his eyes, no fear. He just calmly lit a cigarette. Then, he opened the door behind him. A small figure came running out. “Mommy!” I glared at Marcus, the words I wanted to scream caught in my throat. He grinned, a smug, infuriating look on his face as he swung our son, Leo, into the air. “Leo, what do you say we have a family fun day today?” “Yay! Fun day!” I knew what he was doing. He was using our son to threaten me. Just like five years ago, when Leo overheard us talking about divorce and had an epileptic seizure. He was convulsing on the floor, his little hand still clutching my clothes, gasping, “Mommy… don’t… divorce… Daddy… please…” The memory was like a knife in my heart. For my son, I had given in. But as we were about to leave, an unexpected guest arrived. Chloe, her eyes red-rimmed, was standing at our door, holding the hand of a little boy. Without a word, she dropped to her knees before me. “Audrey, please,” she begged. “Just give him back to me. It’s Ben’s birthday. He needs his father.” The little boy, Ben, burst into tears. “I want my daddy! I want my daddy!” Leo, whose hand was in mine, went rigid. The color drained from his face. I turned to look at Marcus. I saw a flicker of indecision in his eyes. My heart pounded. I reached for him. But in the next second, he took a definitive step to Chloe’s side. “I’m sorry, Audrey,” he said. “Not today. We’ll do it another time.” A roar filled my ears, and something inside me snapped. After that first humiliating scene five years ago, Leo had been mercilessly bullied at school. Kids would point at him, calling him a bastard, a boy with no father. The torment had driven him to the brink of suicide. I had found him on the ledge of our balcony, and it was only my own hysterical, desperate pleading that had brought him back down. Afterward, Marcus had sent me expensive jewelry and designer bags as an apology. But what good was money when all of New York knew the price my son and I had paid for it? “Marcus Sterling,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “if you walk out that door, my son and I are truly done with you.” He met my blazing eyes, and for a moment, I saw a flash of fear. But then Chloe grabbed Ben and darted toward the busy street. “What’s the point of living anyway!” she shrieked. “To be bullied like this? We might as well be dead!” Marcus’s face contorted in terror. He shoved me aside and sprinted into traffic after her. I fell backward, my head cracking against the stone steps. Blood streamed down my face, hot and sticky. Leo burst into tears, trying to press his little jacket against the wound. Then he turned and ran after his father. “Daddy, Mommy’s hurt! We have to take her to the hospital!” His small body was no match for Marcus, who was busy cradling Chloe in his arms, his face a mask of irritation. Suddenly, the other boy, Ben, started to cry. Chloe held up his arm, showing a faint red mark. “Why did you pinch him?” she screamed at Leo. “He’s just a child! What do you two want from us? If you want to hurt someone, hurt me!” She started slapping her own face, over and over. Marcus, seeing this, lost his mind. His hand flew out and connected with our son’s cheek with a sickening crack. “You’re just like your mother!” he snarled. “Completely spoiled!” He pulled out his phone. “The Garrison disciplinary camp? Yes, I have an unruly child for you. Come and get him. Immediately.” Leo crumpled to the ground, his hand on his swollen cheek, staring at his father as if in a trance. “It wasn’t me,” he whispered. “I didn’t pinch him…” My world dissolved into pain. I scrambled to my feet and threw myself in front of my son. “How dare you hit him! How dare you accuse him of something he didn’t do!” But Marcus only had eyes for Chloe and her son. He didn’t even glance at me. A van screeched to a halt beside us. It was from the camp—a notoriously brutal institution known for physical abuse, where a student had committed suicide just last year. My sweet, gentle boy did not deserve to be sent to a place like that. I spread my arms, shielding Leo. “Get away from him!” I screamed, feeling like a wild animal. “I’ll die before I let you take him!” Marcus’s gaze fell on the gash on my forehead, and for a second, his expression softened. But Chloe, with tears streaming down her face, pleaded, “Audrey, you’re only hurting him more! He’s misbehaving, and you’re stopping him from getting the discipline he needs!” That was all it took. Marcus’s resolve hardened. He grabbed me and threw me aside, letting the large, rough-looking men drag my son into the van. “Mommy! Mommy, save me!” Leo’s screams tore through me. He reached for me as I scrambled after the van, only to trip and fall hard onto the pavement. To the onlookers, I was the villain. They saw a man protecting a crying woman and her child from a screaming hysteric. They saw a mistress making a scene. Phones came out, recording my broken sobs. “Look at her, no shame. The other woman, and she’s the one crying.” “She’s psycho. Someone should call the cops and have her locked up.” … I sat there, numb, as their insults rained down on me. In the distance, Chloe was nestled against Marcus like a delicate bird, her eyes filled with contempt. Her lips formed a single, silent word. Pathetic. A flicker of pity crossed Marcus’s face, and he started to reach for me. But Chloe slumped against him. “Marcus,” she whimpered, “my head hurts.” He immediately turned his attention back to her, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to his car. As they drove past, Chloe shot me a look of pure triumph. At this point, who even cared? I went home. I packed. I hired private security. All that was left was to rescue my son. But at midnight, Marcus, who I had assumed would be gone for the night, walked in. He was drunk. He grabbed my chin, his grip tight. “Audrey, what’s with the long face?” he slurred. “I’ll keep Chloe and Ben set up somewhere else. They’re not a threat to you. Why can’t you just compromise a little?” Compromise? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I had compromised five years ago. And where did it get me? He had a whole other family. On her social media, Chloe had just posted a picture of the three of them celebrating a birthday, their backs to the camera. Meanwhile, my son was trapped in that cold, cruel camp. Marcus’s hand moved to my cheek, his eyes still holding a familiar trace of desire. “Audrey, let’s have another baby. A daughter. Once you have both a son and a daughter, you won’t want to leave me.” He pushed me down onto the bed, his hot hand sliding up my thigh. I slapped him. Hard. He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you crazy?” I shoved him off me and threw the divorce papers I’d prepared onto the bed. “I want a divorce.” His parents had never thought I was good enough for him anyway. Now that he was a cheater, there was no reason to continue this sham. His face turned ugly. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he’d finally had enough of me. For the first time, he didn’t try to talk me out of it. “You’re sure?” “Positive.” His eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed a pen and signed his name with a vicious slash. “Audrey Sterling,” he growled, “don’t come crawling back to me.” I didn’t bother to reply. I just took the papers, grabbed my bags, and walked out the door. The next morning, I sent the security team into the camp. Ex-special forces are efficient. They had Leo in less than ten minutes. In just one day, he looked like he had been through hell. His eyes were vacant; he didn’t even call me ‘Mom.’ My heart shattered. I rushed him to the car, desperate to get him to a hospital. But as we pulled away, a black SUV cut us off. Marcus and Chloe got out. “Get out of the way!” I screamed. “I have to get Leo to a hospital! You—” Before I could finish, Chloe dropped to her knees, sobbing. “Audrey, please, give me back my son! I can’t live without Ben! I’m begging you!” She started slamming her forehead against the pavement. I stared at her, horrified. “What are you talking about? What does Ben’s disappearance have to do with me?” “Audrey!” Marcus roared. “You’re still lying? You hired men to break into a school! What else are you capable of?” I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. He was attacking me over his mistress’s child, without even noticing the state of his own son. Leo started trembling, his face growing paler by the second. I knew I couldn’t wait. I scooped him up and tried to get back in the car. But Marcus, his eyes dark with suspicion, snatched Leo from my arms. “I’m asking you one last time, Audrey,” he said, his face a mask of cold fury. “Where is Ben?” Tears streamed down my face as I saw how roughly he was holding our son. “I don’t have him!” I cried. “We’ve been together for ten years! Is this really what you think of me?”

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I was with Jax for ten years. But the day he decided to go straight, his crew was already calling someone else “boss lady.” Those hands, which had seen their share of blood and battles, were now gently tying the laces on a young girl’s canvas sneakers. “Sandy,” he told me, “she’s not like you.” “You can run wild with me, no questions asked, no title needed. She can’t.” I didn’t look back that day. What Jax never knew was that my family had been waiting for me to get this out of my system. They had a good man waiting in the wings the whole time, just waiting for me to give him a title of his own. 1 The day Jax decided to wash his hands of the life, he pulled me into bed and the world outside ceased to exist. I stared at the shredded lingerie on the floor, a tangled mess of black lace. For a moment, I was speechless. “Jax,” I finally managed, “is it the end of the world?” The raw, desperate way he’d taken me… it felt like there was no tomorrow. He was smoking his usual post-sex cigarette, his eyelids heavy, a haze of smoke blurring his features. “Sandy, if I were to… break it off with you,” he started, the cigarette bobbing between his lips. “You wouldn’t, like, lose your mind over it, would you?” He said it like a joke, but a chill ran down my spine. Ten years with Jax had taught me to read every nuance. He liked his women obedient on the surface, but with a core of rebellion he could play against. Just like now. I took the half-smoked cigarette from his fingers, pushed down the storm churning inside me, and raised a lazy eyebrow. “Jax, do you still think I’m eighteen?” If I were still that eighteen-year-old in canvas shoes, I would have demanded answers. I would have made him pay for leaving me, consequences be damned. But I’m twenty-eight now… A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t finish the thought. Jax just ruffled my hair and stubbed out the cigarette as it burned down to his knuckles. “Sandy, let’s end it here.” “And stop smoking. For fuck’s sake, stop treating your body like it’s disposable.” “We’re not kids anymore. We can’t keep living like this.” In that instant, I froze. A breakup at twenty-eight. The first one to cry loses everything. The smeared makeup, the raw vulnerability—it’s a complete defeat. I tried to act casual, reaching for my jacket on the floor, ready to leave. But Jax’s long arm snaked out and pulled me back into his arms. Outside, the clouds were a swirl of dark ink, pregnant with a coming storm. His lips traced a path down my spine as he expertly adjusted the strap of my dress. He nibbled on my earlobe, just like he always used to. “Heard me?” he whispered. I didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to mind. His tone was that of a man in absolute control, a king speaking to his subject. “It’s about to rain. Stay a little longer, hm?” Ten years can smooth over any conflict, creating a deceptive calm on the surface. Jax must have forgotten. My temper… it wasn’t just for show. If we were going to break, it had to be clean. I straightened my back, pushing his chiseled, handsome face away, and offered a small, cool smile. “How long is this storm going to last?” He had someone else in his heart now. How long did he think he could keep me here? A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he recovered quickly. When he introduced the other girl, his words were simple, brutal. “Sandy, you’re a smart woman.” “Her name is Ava. She’s not like you. You can be in the muck with me, without a title.” “She can’t. She’s too pure.” I swallowed hard. The wreckage of our night was all around us. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say. What did he mean, I could be in the muck with him without a title? The black silk, the high heels, the slip dresses. For years, Jax had molded me into his perfect woman. Now that I’d finally perfected that sultry, dangerous look, he found it cheap? For a moment, I wanted to scream at him. But he put a finger to his lips, silencing me. It was a phone call. From the girl, Ava. “Jax? You said you were coming to pick me up…” her voice was a fragile whisper. “I’m all alone, and I’m scared…” 2 Jax left me for her. The roar of his engine echoed from the underground garage as a text message lit up my phone. [I’ll be out of town for a bit. Get your stuff out of the house.] [I’m having someone change the locks in two weeks.] I didn’t reply. I just moved through the villa I’d called home for five years, silently erasing every trace of myself. After a long while, my phone lit up again. Jax must have reached the terrified Ava by now. This was him, tying up the last loose end of our decade together. [Call me if you need anything.] [I can’t give you a title, but other than that, we can still be friends.] I had loved Jax for ten years. And in return, I got a casual dismissal. A friend. … The downpour lasted for two full days. The city was drowning, a damp chill seeping into my bones. I couldn’t sleep. I’d wake in the dead of night and flick a lighter open, just to see the small flame. The year I got with Jax, he was just a street hustler who couldn’t make rent, living in a damp basement apartment. In that humid air, the only light came from his lighter. Click. Click. The flame sparking, then dying. Jax, with his sharp buzz cut, had stared at me in my school uniform. “Think this through, Sandy.” “A guy like me, I’m not going anywhere.” “I can’t give you the future you want.” I was so damn naive back then. I took off my rain-soaked canvas shoes and tucked my ice-cold feet into the warmth of his chest, right against the thin fabric of his tank top. His body heat was like a torch, slowly setting me ablaze. There was only that single, flickering flame, but I stubbornly nodded. “Jax, I don’t want a future.” “I just want you.” We went through hell together. Nights filled with the smell of antiseptic and the rustle of bandages. Nights of desperate, clinging passion. Jax used to say that the day he finally went straight, the very first thing he would do was marry me. Now, he was going straight. And the first thing he did was cut me out of his life. I’m twenty-eight. I’m not a kid anymore. I can’t keep messing around. Besides, my family had a man waiting for me. Just waiting for me to give him a title. 3 I decided to leave the city. But first, I took the keys to the villa and went to Jax’s club. No makeup, no fancy dress. Just jeans and canvas sneakers. When I walked in, most of the guys didn’t even recognize me. It was only when I took off my cap that the crew—the same guys who used to eagerly call me “boss lady”—fell silent. They all knew about Jax and the new girl. The ones who were still loyal to me started trying to stir things up. “Sandy, for what it’s worth, we all think you and the boss are the perfect match.” “This new girl… she’s a lightweight. Can’t exactly show her off, can you?” “Why don’t you go talk to him? You know he always listens to—” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Ten years with Jax. I had an innocent face, but with a slash of red lipstick and a bit of eyeliner, I could look deadly. Plenty of men had their eyes on me, but Jax was always there to protect me. Anyone who dared to touch a hair on my head ended up hauling sandbags in some godforsaken desert outpost. If I shed a single tear, Jax would drop everything to comfort me. That was a privilege once reserved only for me. But this time, the guys didn’t get to finish their sentence. A porcelain cup shattered against the wall, right next to one of their heads. Jax’s face was dark with fury. “Anyone listening would think Sandy runs this place.” “Is this how you watch my business when I’m gone?!” The sprawling room went dead silent. That was the power Jax commanded. Only now, that power was being used against me. I started to explain, to defend the guys, but the girl behind him peeked out, her tone deceptively innocent. “Jax, is this the Sandy you told me about?” “She’s dressed just like me!” Jax’s brow furrowed as he looked me up and down. Jeans, canvas sneakers. It was a mirror image of Ava’s style. He looked at me with suspicion in his eyes. “Sandy, did you look her up?” If you looked closely, Ava did look about five parts like I did at eighteen. Especially in this outfit. I saw right through the girl’s little game, but I refused to defend myself. Instead of me investigating Ava, wasn’t it more likely that someone had investigated Jax’s tastes? After ten years together, he couldn’t even trust me on this… I pressed my lips into a stubborn line. Jax let out a short, sharp laugh. A sneer. “No matter how much you dress the part, you’re not eighteen anymore.” “Sandy, what are you fighting me for?” I blinked, unable to believe what he’d just said. “How about this,” Jax said, licking his lips, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Ten years. Name your price.” I froze. I had been with Jax for ten years. I’d taken a bullet for him. I’d taken a knife for him. But nothing, not a single moment, had ever hurt more than this. My nails dug into my palms, my voice trembled. “Jax, what did you just say?” “I said, I wasted ten years of your youth.” “Name your price.” He stood there, hands in his pockets. Even as a storm of emotion raged in his eyes, he forced the words out. I felt like I was going to collapse. Ava tugged on his sleeve, whispering, “Jax, don’t be so mean.” “Sandy didn’t do anything wrong.” He looked down at her, his expression softening as he gently brushed his nose against hers. “It’s okay, baby. Be good.” He pushed her behind him. “I’m not going to let anyone bully you.” That’s how he used to protect me. I couldn’t watch. A bitter bile rose in my throat. I looked down and saw the silver bangle on my wrist. The year he gave it to me, it was a snug fit. But the deeper I fell in love with Jax, the looser it became.

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1. A nasty flu had me feeling like death warmed over, so I had to beg my gay best friend, Ben, to drive me to the clinic for a shot. I was expecting a simple IV drip, but the intern on duty insisted that if I wanted to get better fast, it had to be an intramuscular injection in the glute. To avoid missing any more work, I gritted my teeth and agreed. But after I lowered my pants, the intern suddenly rushed out of the room in a panic and dragged Ben inside. “Oh my God, sir! Your girlfriend has a syphilitic rash all over her backside! How can you be with someone who has a disease that… filthy?” A surge of white-hot anger shot through me. I demanded she apologize, but instead, the intern turned around and posted a TikTok. The caption read: “Forced by my superiors to apologize after exposing a patient’s promiscuous lifestyle, but I know I did the right thing! Sometimes you have to speak up! #MedStudentLife #DoingTheRightThing” … I yanked my pants up, my hands shaking with rage, and spun around to glare at the girl whose name tag read, “Zoe, Medical Intern.” “What the hell are you talking about?” My voice was sharp with fury, but Zoe seemed oblivious, her face a mask of wounded innocence. “I just don’t want this gentleman to be deceived by you!” she declared righteously, before casting a shy, adoring glance at Ben. “I can’t stand people like you, who use a pretty face to cheat good men!” The so-called “good man,” Ben, pointed a bewildered finger at his own nose. His expression screamed, “Me?” I followed Zoe’s gaze and saw the undisguised infatuation swirling in her eyes as she looked at Ben. In that instant, it all clicked into place. Ben was wearing a bespoke suit, a Patek Philippe gleaming on his wrist. Paired with a face that could rival any A-list actor, it was enough to send an impressionable young girl’s imagination into overdrive. There was just one tiny problem: Ben wasn’t straight. I let out a cold, humorless laugh, done wasting my breath on her. I raised my voice, calling out into the hallway. “Head nurse! Could I speak to whoever is in charge here, please?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the clinic’s low hum, drawing the attention of several nurses nearby. A moment later, a middle-aged man with a tag identifying him as “Dr. Matthews, Department Head” hurried in. “Ma’am, is there a problem?” I pointed a trembling finger at Zoe and recounted everything that had just happened, word for word. As I spoke, Dr. Matthews’s face grew darker and darker. Zoe, faced with her superior, was clearly losing her nerve. Her eyes darted around the room as she anxiously twisted the hem of her white coat. “I… I must have made a mistake. I was just so shocked that I…” she stammered, trying to defend herself. I cut her off, my gaze sweeping sharply between her and the doctor. “A mistake? You think a flippant ‘I made a mistake’ is enough to repair the damage you’ve done to my reputation and my health?” I paused, letting the tension build before dropping the bomb. “Fine. I will undergo a full panel of tests right here, right now, in your clinic. If they show that there is nothing wrong with me, then not only will I sue Ms. Zoe for personal defamation and emotional distress, but I will also sue this hospital for gross negligence and for enabling its staff to spread malicious lies.” The color drained from Dr. Matthews’s face, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He whirled on Zoe, his voice a low, furious hiss. “What are you still standing there for? Since when can you diagnose a patient with your eyes alone? Who do you think you are? Apologize to this lady. Now!” Under the immense pressure, Zoe’s face turned crimson. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to argue. But what she did next, no one saw coming. “Waaaaah!” She clapped her hands over her face and burst into loud, theatrical sobs. 2. Dr. Matthews looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Ben just stood there, a perfect picture of “Who am I? Where am I?” confusion. I crossed my arms, watching her performance with cold detachment. Zoe sobbed, peeking at Ben through the gaps in her fingers, but her words were directed at her boss. “I… I just didn’t want this gentleman to be kept in the dark! He’s such a good person, why should he be deceived by someone who plays games with people’s hearts!” Growing more agitated, she dropped her hands, her red-rimmed eyes locking onto mine. “You know exactly how wild your life is, don’t you? If you’re going to be dirty, then stay away from decent men!” She spoke with such conviction, as if she were some righteous crusader. But from the moment we walked in, Ben hadn’t said a single word. How had she determined he was a “decent man”? Pure fantasy? I was so angry I had to laugh. Taking a step toward her, I didn’t back down. “Fine. Let’s say I ‘corrupt’ people,” I said, playing along. Then my finger shot out, pointing at a still-baffled Ben. “Then you tell me, who deserves to be with him? Who wouldn’t be corrupting him?” Zoe’s eyes flickered away, a suspicious blush creeping up her cheeks. She stammered, unable to form a single word. The answer was obvious. “That’s enough!” Dr. Matthews had reached his limit. “Zoe, one more word of this nonsense and you’re fired!” I ignored him, pulled my phone from my pocket, and began dialing in front of everyone. “Hello, 911? I’d like to report a case of public slander…” “Ma’am! Ma’am, please don’t!” Seeing I was serious, Dr. Matthews nearly jumped out of his skin. He lunged forward and pressed down on my phone, his posture utterly deferential, his tone almost pleading. “Please, calm down. This is our hospital’s failure. I promise you, I will handle this to your complete satisfaction!” He spun back to Zoe, his eyes like daggers. “Zoe! Do you want a future in this hospital or not? Is your residency position not important to you? I am giving you one last chance. Apologize to this lady. Immediately!” The words “residency position” finally snapped Zoe back to reality. She bit her lip, trembling with resentment, and gave me a stiff, reluctant bow. “I’m… sor… ry…” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the venom in her eyes could have killed. Dr. Matthews delivered the sentence. “Zoe, you are suspended from your rotation, effective immediately. You will write a ten-thousand-word formal apology, and a hospital-wide disciplinary notice will be issued!” Already sick and now dealing with this mess, I couldn’t even be bothered to get the shot anymore. I just turned and walked out. Ben walked me to my car. Seeing how pale I was, he asked worriedly, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” “I’m fine. Go on your date,” I said, waving him off. “Don’t keep him waiting.” Back home, I collapsed onto the sofa, my head throbbing. I ordered some medicine and takeout on my phone. While waiting, I idly scrolled through local TikToks. Suddenly, a video popped up. On the screen, a girl in a white coat was crying her eyes out for the camera. It was Zoe. The text overlay was dripping with self-pity: 【I just tried to warn a patient’s family that his “girlfriend” might have a nasty disease, but my boss forced me to apologize and told me to mind my own business… What is wrong with this world? But I know I did the right thing. I’m still a good person!】 The comment section was a war zone. 【Don’t cry, you did nothing wrong! You’re too kind for this world!】 【Some women these days have zero morals, but god forbid you say anything about it.】 【That patient probably reported you because you hit a nerve! Hugs!】 My blood boiled. This woman, who was supposed to be suspended and reflecting on her actions, was actively fanning the flames in her comment section, describing me in vivid detail. 【The woman looked so sick and haggard, a total mess. I have no idea how she tricked a guy like him. He was so handsome and classy—they were like night and day!】 I burst out laughing from sheer disbelief. What a master of deception, this “good person.” Fueled by rage, I started typing in the comments: 【I’m the “patient” you’re talking about, and here’s what actually happened at the clinic today…】 I was halfway through typing out the whole sordid affair when my doorbell rang. My medicine and food had arrived. I put my phone down, forced myself to eat a few bites, and swallowed the pills. The medicine hit me hard, and soon I was dizzy, sinking into a deep, hazy sleep. 3. I slept like the dead. When I finally opened my eyes, the world outside my window was pitch black. The flu medicine had worn off, and my head finally felt clear again, not like the cotton-stuffed mess it had been. I reached for my phone to check the time, but the screen immediately lit up with a relentless barrage of calls from Ben. It was a full-blown emergency. “Hello?” My voice was still raspy. “Oh my god, finally! Get on TikTok, right now! It’s a complete disaster!” Ben sounded frantic. A knot of dread formed in my stomach as I opened the app. The flood of DMs and comment notifications instantly froze my phone, turning the screen into a stuttering slideshow. That’s when I realized it. In my medicated haze last night, I must have accidentally hit send on that half-finished comment. 【I’m the “patient” you’re talking about, and here’s what actually happened at the clinic today…】 Just that one, dangling sentence, hanging awkwardly in the comments of Zoe’s viral video. And right below it, Zoe had performed a stunning reversal. She replied to me, her tone no longer defiant but impossibly humble: 【I am so, so sorry, ma’am. I was wrong, I was truly wrong. I shouldn’t have been such a busybody, and I never should have posted about this online. I’m just an intern who has studied for five years to get this one chance. Please, I’m begging you, have mercy. Don’t file another complaint. I’ll never be so “righteous” again. I’m on my knees apologizing to you.】 Her “retreat to advance” tactic was flawless. My notifications had become a cesspool. 【Oh look, the main character has arrived. Why’d you stop typing? Feeling guilty?】 【“What actually happened is…” is what? That you screwed around and caught something nasty?】 【The poor intern is practically begging on her knees. What more do you want? Just because you got caught doesn’t mean you can be a bully!】 【Look at her, can’t even finish a sentence. She knows she was exposed. Serves her right.】 I was shaking with rage, my chest tight. These people, based on one manipulative video and a few crocodile-tear comments, had already convicted and sentenced me. I clicked on Zoe’s profile and saw that she had pinned her reply to the top, every word painting her as a poor, bullied intern who was forced to abandon her “righteous” quest by a powerful abuser. Fine. You want to settle this online? Let’s settle it online. With trembling hands, I opened my camera, ready to record a video explaining everything. But a cold, impersonal notification box popped up on my screen: 【Your account has been temporarily suspended due to multiple user reports of violating community guidelines.】 My vision went black for a second. When I came to, I immediately contacted customer support, only to be told it would take three business days for a review. Three business days? By then, this whole thing would be ancient history. And just then, as if on cue, a friend request popped up on my messaging app. The profile picture was Zoe’s tear-stained face. I accepted, and a message instantly came through. 【I really didn’t expect things to blow up like this online. I know I was wrong, and I’ve already asked for your forgiveness. But as a medical professional, I still have to advise you: a girl should take care of her body. It’s better not to have such a messy private life.】 Her condescending tone, as if she were some kind of savior. I stared at the words, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. I was about to unleash a string of curses, but my fingers froze over the screen. What was the point of cursing her out? It would only give her more satisfaction. I deleted the long, angry paragraph I had typed and calmly replied with a few simple words. 【Are you at the hospital now?】 Zoe clearly hadn’t expected that. A few seconds later, a single “?” appeared. Seeing that question mark, a cold smile spread across my face. I ignored her and dialed Ben. “Ben, I need you to do something for me.”

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I bought myself a gorgeous urn. I excitedly imagined myself turning into ash and lying inside it. I couldn’t wait, so I swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills. Just as I was full of anticipation, ready to say goodbye to this world, a call from an unknown number interrupted me: “Is this Miss Lin? I want the urn you just bought. I need it urgently. Name your price.” I looked at the empty pill bottle and laughed in anger: “What a coincidence, are you dying today too?” “How about this? Whoever kicks the bucket first gets it?” “But I should be faster than you.” “If we die at the same time, mixing our ashes together works too.” Silence on the other end for a moment, then: “…Deal.” Chapter 1 Today is a good day to die. Before I go, I plan to treat myself. I never lived like a princess, so I might as well be extravagant in death, right? So I walked into a funeral home and picked out a super shiny, blinged-out urn. It was the complete opposite of my dull, gray life. The sales girl tapped her finger on the sample urn. “Full payment or installments?” Wow, insulting me even now. Who the hell buys an urn on installment? “Full payment,” I said firmly, slapping my credit card on the counter. “Sign the contract now.” The sales girl looked at me like I was crazy. The moment the card swiped, my phone buzzed. Caller ID: “Third Brother.” I rolled my eyes and picked up. Before he could speak, I cut in: “Not lending money, not giving gifts, not buying a house, don’t need insurance, won’t like, share, or comment on your posts…” He interrupted through gritted teeth: “Lin Yang, just… go die!” Then he hung up. I raised an eyebrow at the phone. Thanks for the invitation, already working on it. Walking out of the funeral home, I took a deep breath and pulled a bottle of sleeping pills from my bag. The doctor said the brain tumor pressing on my nerves would make the end excruciatingly painful. Better to… The phone rang again. Unknown number. Why does everyone want to interrupt my death?! “Hello?” I answered impatiently. The voice on the other end was confident: “Is this Miss Lin? I want the urn you just bought. I need it urgently. Name your price.” ??? I laughed in anger, chewing on the pills resentfully. “…Coincidence much? You dying today too?” …Silence on the other end for a moment. When he spoke again, he was suddenly polite: “Miss Lin, I’m Gu Yan. This urn is really important to me.” Gu Yan? The Gu Group heir who’s all over the financial news? I almost choked on the pills. “Is CEO Gu terminally ill too?” I looked at the empty bottle and explained, “This really isn’t about money.” I added fuel to the fire: “How about this? Whoever kicks the bucket first gets it?” Gu Yan’s tone suddenly turned smug: “Then it’s definitely me. I’m already cutting my wrists.” I wasn’t convinced: “Impossible. I should be faster. I just took the pills. If you want to beat me, you better hurry up.” “Where are you?” Gu Yan’s voice suddenly tightened. I thought I heard a kitchen knife drop. “I’ll send someone over right now.” He’s in a rush? Where did this sudden competitive spirit come from? “Don’t waste your energy.” “I’ve been unlucky since I was a kid. Suicide is the one thing I’ll definitely be faster at…” Before I could finish, a sharp pain exploded in my temples. Before losing consciousness completely, I used my last bit of strength to call my mom, planning to say goodbye. The moment it connected, everything went black. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was a handsome, angular face. “Awake? I’m Gu Yan.” I blinked. “I’m not dead?” “Stomach pumped.” He handed me a cup of water. “Doctor said you swallowed over three hundred pills. Almost died from overeating.” My phone vibrated. I glanced at a voice message from my third brother in the family group chat. I played it on speaker. His furious voice echoed through the ward: “Lin Yang, are you done yet? Ningning is getting married tomorrow, and you pick now to pull this stunt?” Gu Yan raised an eyebrow slightly. I replied calmly. [Yangyang Not Late: Yes.] As soon as I sent it, the system notification popped up: “Dad left the group chat.” A moment later: “Mom left the group chat,” “Second Brother left the group chat,” “Eldest Brother left the group chat.” …I stared silently at the (1) behind the group name. “Brilliant.” Gu Yan suddenly started clapping. “More exciting than our board meetings.” Chapter 2 I finally took a good look at this legendary financial tycoon. He was young and handsome, just unnaturally pale. He pulled a document from his briefcase: “About the urn…” “No deal,” I said firmly. “That’s the last bit of dignity I’m giving myself.” “One hundred million,” he said lightly. “Deal!” Before I could speak, someone answered for me. The ward door burst open, and my mother rushed in, smelling of perfume. Her eyes landed on Gu Yan, and her face changed instantly: “Gu… CEO Gu? Why are you here?” Gu Yan stood up calmly: “I came to visit my fiancée.” My mother and I widened our eyes simultaneously. Mother pointed at me, stuttering. “Fi… fiancée?” “Her?” I pointed at myself, trembling: Me? Gu Yan kept a straight face: “Yes. We both liked the same urn and plan to mix our ashes together after we die in a couple of days.” I almost choked on my own spit. The day after my stomach was pumped, I was lying in bed studying my brain CT scan. I looked up to see Gu Yan standing at the door with a fruit basket. He had swapped his suit for casual wear, looking much more approachable—if you ignored the three suited bodyguards behind him. “CEO Gu.” I pointed at the fruit basket. “Are you visiting a patient or making an offering?” Gu Yan put the basket on the nightstand: “Heard you like strawberries.” I froze. …I’m allergic to strawberries. The door slammed open. Third Brother, Lu Zichen, stormed in smelling of alcohol, followed by my parents and—Lu Ningning in her wedding dress. “Lin Yang!” Third Brother ripped the IV tube from my hand. “You f*cking—” His roar cut off abruptly as Gu Yan’s bodyguards pinned him against the wall. The room went dead silent. I looked down at the blood beading on my hand and suddenly found it hilarious. This is my family. Even when I’m dying, they have to yell at me first. Mother reacted first, pointing a trembling finger at the CT scan: “Is this true?” Father snatched the medical record, flipping through it loudly: “Impossible! Last week she was still—” Third Brother broke free from the bodyguards, grabbed my CT scan, and smashed it against the wall, voice shaking: “How can this be? Lin Yang, you’re lying about this now?!” “Zichen!” Father shouted, then turned to me, voice suddenly terrifyingly gentle, “Yangyang, Dad knows a brain specialist. We’ll transfer you, right now…” I shrank back. “No need. I’ve already hired the best medical experts from the Gu Group for her.” Everyone’s eyes shot to Gu Yan. He stood calmly by my bed, like a dutiful fiancé: “After all, Lin Yang is my responsibility now.” Third Brother froze, then sneered, “Buddy, who are you?” Gu Yan slowly pulled a photo from his jacket pocket and held it up to Third Brother: “Recognize this?” In the photo, a tiny me and a tiny Gu Yan stood in an amusement park. I was holding cotton candy, and he looked disgusted while wiping sugar off my face. The whole family was stunned. Including me. My family was “escorted” out of the ward. The last to leave was Lu Ningning. She looked back at me, lips trembling, saying something I couldn’t hear. After the door closed, I collapsed on the bed. “When… when did this happen?” I stammered. “Last night.” “Tech department stayed up all night photoshopping it,” Gu Yan said with a shrug. I stared wide-eyed: “You… why?” Gu Yan took an apple from the basket and started peeling it: “Just didn’t like what I saw.” I took the apple and took a bite: “So what’s your illness?” Gu Yan paused: “Who said I was sick?” “If you’re not sick, why buy an urn?” “Collecting.” I almost choked on the apple: “CEO Gu, unique hobby you got there?” Gu Yan sighed, suddenly unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a small scar on his chest: “Heart surgery last year.” I stared at the scar: “So…?” “So I’m half dead too,” he said casually. “Sharing an urn with you isn’t a bad deal.” My nose suddenly tingled, and I quickly looked down to gnaw on the apple to hide it. “By the way.” Gu Yan pulled a black card from his pocket and placed it on the pillow. “Medical expenses.” I stared at the card and laughed: “CEO Gu, is this you being my sugar daddy?” “Consider it an investment,” he said calmly. “I’m betting on your design talent.” “What design talent?” “Designing the urn.” He pointed to a folder. “My condition is, leave a QR code. Scanning it shows our photo.” I burst out laughing: “And then what? ‘Congratulations, you’ve scanned a pair of doomed lovebirds’?” Gu Yan actually nodded: “Could work.” We both laughed together. Chapter 3 Gu Yan’s heart condition was serious. How serious? Let’s put it this way. My death was a countdown; Gu Yan’s death could happen any second. “Mahjong! Full flush, kong on the river!” I pushed my tiles down. A wail erupted from the nurses in the ward. “Miss Lin! This is the ICU, not a casino!” the head nurse yelled. Gu Yan calmly pulled out a black card: “Damage compensation.” Gu Yan’s bodyguards were shaking with suppressed laughter. One accidentally knocked over the IV stand, pulling off Gu Yan’s ECG leads. “Beep—” The heart monitor flatlined instantly. “CEO Gu!” The bodyguards panicked. I didn’t even look up as I shuffled the tiles: “Don’t panic. He pulled this trick yesterday to skip rounds.” Gu Yan slowly reconnected the leads, and the heartbeat curve returned. He winked at me: “Fast learner.” The sight of the head nurse fleeing made me laugh until my IV tube shook. “Again?” he asked. I looked at the clock: “One more round, then radiation therapy.” “Coming back after?” “Yeah. I can play while on the drip. Just hang the bottle on the mahjong table leg.” Gu Yan laughed, and he looked kind of good doing it. Suddenly his face changed, and he clutched his chest and collapsed. “Gu Yan?!” On the third day after Gu Yan’s heart attack, I invented a new therapy—using mahjong tiles to spell out ECG patterns. “Look, sinus rhythm.” Professor Zhang, Gu Yan’s doctor, stood at the door, dropping his clipboard: “Miss Lin, do you know where the psychiatric department is?” “Yep,” I said without looking up. “Borrowed a deck of cards from their rec room last week to play ‘Guess Who Dies First’ with Gu Yan.” Professor Zhang looked like he’d seen a ghost. Gu Yan smiled weakly: “Professor, she’s just… expressing concern in a special way.” “Special?” Professor Zhang pointed at the abstract art on the wall made of CT scans. “She turned your MRI into Starry Night!” I puffed out my chest proudly: “Van Gogh would be proud!” Professor Zhang stormed off. Gu Yan looked at the ceiling and suddenly said: “When I was a kid, my hospital room was never this lively.” I stopped arranging tiles: “Why?” “Sick kids in the Gu family are weaknesses,” he said lightly. “The board questions your eligibility to inherit.” I imagined little Gu Yan lying in a hospital bed surrounded by suits pointing fingers, and suddenly got angry: “Damn it! I’ll go paint your headquarters Hello Kitty right now!” Gu Yan laughed until he coughed: “I’d be disowned.” “Even better,” I handed him an oxygen mask. “Be my henchman. I’ll treat you to spicy food and good drinks.” “With your savings?” He raised an eyebrow. “You maxed out your credit card for an urn.” “Hey!” I threw a pillow at him. “Who are you looking down on? I’m at least—” The door opened. Lu Ningning stood there with a fruit basket, eyes red like a rabbit: “Sis… can I come in?” My face fell instantly: “Wrong room. Your sister is in obstetrics.” Lu Ningning’s tears fell. “I… I came to apologize.” She rushed over and knelt: “Sis! I really know I was wrong! I peeked at your diary and found out what you went through all those years…” My blood ran cold. Chapter 4 That diary from when I was fifteen recorded every unbearable memory from the seven years I was trafficked. And the reason I was kidnapped was to protect my sister. All these years, I thought no one but me remembered. Lu Ningning tremblingly pulled out a stack of papers: “I… I found everyone you mentioned… the orphanage worker has been arrested, and that…” I snatched the papers. On top was a police report receipt. Dated the day I was diagnosed. “Why?” My throat was dry. “Don’t you hate me most?” Lu Ningning cried, makeup running: “How could I hate you? I just wanted your attention, but you always…” Gu Yan suddenly sat up: “Lin Yang, you look pale.” Of course I was. Memories I deliberately buried came crashing back—the worker’s belt, fighting dogs for food, the dark storage room… These bloody wounds never disappeared. They were reefs hidden under the skin, aching in every moment I felt unloved. “Get out.” I pointed at the door. “Everyone out.” Lu Ningning wanted to say more but was dragged out by Gu Yan’s bodyguards. After the room quieted, I realized I was clutching the papers tightly. “Want to talk?” Gu Yan asked softly. “About what? How I was abused for seven years? How I was locked in a cage like livestock to be picked? How I was sold three times?” My smile was uglier than crying. “Or how I came back to find this family never accepted me?” Gu Yan listened quietly, then said: “I was kidnapped when I was ten.” I looked up sharply. “My uncle hired them,” he said calmly, like telling someone else’s story. “They locked me in a basement, one cup of water a day, to force my dad to sign over shares.” My throat tightened: “Then?” “Then I escaped, went straight to the shareholder meeting.” He twitched his lips. “Appeared in the conference room covered in blood, exposed my uncle right there.” “So your heart…” “Root of the problem from back then,” he glossed over it. “My point is, pain doesn’t need comparison. Your pain isn’t less important just because mine was worse.” “And some scars look like defects, but who says they can’t be art from another angle?” My nose stung, and I looked down, pretending to organize papers: “CEO Gu, your chicken soup is a bit salty.” Gu Yan smiled and pulled a folder from the nightstand: “Speaking of which, I have a proposal.” Inside was a “Patient Alliance Special Action Plan,” detailing how to use our remaining time: Establish the Brat Foundation, treating unreliable parents. Teach every kid in the hospital to weave bracelets from IV tubes. Perform death metal at the Gu Group annual meeting. Send a box of screaming chickens to everyone who bullied us. Family Crematorium (Total destruction of toxic family). “This…” I flipped through the plan. “When did you make this?” “While you were snoring last night.” He handed me a pen. “Sign?” The plan was like a light suddenly turning on. I realized living doesn’t have to be waiting for death. It can be blowing up years of grievances into fireworks before the finish line. I signed my name with a flourish: “Happy cooperation, partner.” Gu Yan picked up the call button: “Nurse, we need two glasses of champagne.” “Alcohol is prohibited!” the head nurse roared over the speaker. “Then two bottles of saline,” I added. “Vintage ’82.”

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The childhood best friend who took care of me for thirteen years… In the fourteenth year, he called me a r*tard and a psycho. On my birthday, he dumped me at a bus stop and left with the new transfer student. I have autism. I hid behind the bus stop sign until late at night. His dad dragged him over to apologize, but he wasn’t having it. “I don’t owe her anything! She’s autistic! If I hadn’t taught her how to speak word by word, she wouldn’t even be functioning like a human!” “I’ve been her nanny for thirteen years. I don’t want to take care of her anymore!” Suddenly, floating comments (danmu) appeared before my eyes: [The male lead is jealous!] [His twin brother pretended to be him and hung out with the heroine all day. She didn’t notice and kept calling him ‘Brother Liam.’ Our jealous puppy was so mad he dug his nails into his palms.] [The heroine is born without empathy. The male lead is using this method to make her understand his feelings.] I froze. So it was his brother that day… Then, is it okay if he keeps pretending? 1 As soon as the school bell rang, I walked over to Liam’s desk. The new girl, Sarah, was standing next to him. Seeing me approach, she nudged him with her elbow. “Your little wifey is here.” Liam was correcting Sarah’s test paper. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t move. I called him: “Brother Liam, home.” Liam didn’t even lift his head. “Go back by yourself. I’m going to the library with Sarah.” I froze. Sarah explained, “It’s for the final sprint before exams. You probably don’t need it.” Autism makes it hard to adapt to change. In my understanding, going home with Liam after school is a fixed rule. Him telling me to go back alone left me at a loss. So I grabbed his hand. “Brother Liam, home.” I said it three times. Liam ignored me. Seeing me tugging at Liam, Sarah suddenly burst out laughing. “She’s like an NPC.” She tilted her chin at Liam. “Didn’t you say Ava listens to you?” Liam’s face changed. He suddenly shook me off with force. Affected by the sudden aggression, I screamed uncontrollably. The whole class looked over. Sarah hid behind Liam. “Whoa, is she crazy?” Liam dragged me out. He was furious. As we walked, he said, “You’re just a psycho who doesn’t know good from bad! Why act like you can’t live without me? You don’t need to study, but I do, okay?” I didn’t quite understand. I asked him, “So are we going home?” He had already dragged me to the bus stop. He sneered. “No!” He left me there and walked back. “Take the 362 home yourself!” 2 My hearing is sensitive. The noise of traffic and strangers affects me greatly. Without someone beside me, I didn’t dare move. I squatted behind the bus stop sign, covering my ears. Liam and Sarah walked past me. I called him, but he walked faster. Bus after bus drove by. I hid behind the sign until night fell. I don’t know how much time passed before Mom drove over and found me. Seeing me curled up in the dark, she hugged me with red eyes. She gave me my medicine, called Liam’s dad, and then took me home. There were many people at home, some I knew, some I didn’t. Mom helped me change into a beautiful princess dress, led me into the crowd, and asked me to cut the cake. Oh. Today is my eighteenth birthday. I didn’t cut it. I promised Brother Liam he would get the first piece of my birthday cake. I ran to the balcony to wait for him. The wind on the balcony was a bit strong, making my eyes sting. I craned my neck to look outside. My neck was sore by the time I saw Liam’s dad dragging Liam from the roadside. Half of Liam’s face was swollen. Uncle Miller scolded Liam, “How could you leave Ava at the bus stop! She’s never taken a bus alone!” Liam retorted, “Is she stupid? Can’t she swipe a card and get off at the stop? What could happen?” Uncle Miller slapped him on the back of the head. “What if she got lost? What if she got hit by a car? Can you handle the consequences if something happened to her?” Mom said if I see someone getting hit, I should stop it. Just as I was about to speak, I saw Liam shake off his dad’s hand and yell. “Why should I bear the consequences? It’s you guys who owe her family! I don’t owe her anything! She’s autistic! If I hadn’t taught her to speak word by word, she wouldn’t even be human! I’ve been her nanny for thirteen years, what more do you want?” I froze, belatedly clutching my chest. It seemed to hurt a little. Uncle Miller pointed at Liam. “You, you…” He stammered for a long time but couldn’t get the words out. Finally, he sighed, “But she only recognizes you…” Liam said resentfully, “No!” He continued, “I don’t want to take care of her anymore. I want freedom! Anyone can take care of her from now on, just don’t drag me into it!” Mom told me to observe and listen more, saying it helps me understand emotions and meanings. But they jabbered a lot, and all I understood was that Liam didn’t want to talk to me anymore. It was getting hard to breathe. A row of bullet comments (danmu) suddenly popped up above Liam’s head, scrolling from right to left. [Male lead is jealous!] [His twin brother replaced him and played with the heroine all day. She didn’t realize and kept calling him Brother Liam. Our jealous puppy was so mad he dug his nails into his palms.] [The heroine is born without empathy. The male lead is using this method to make her understand his feelings.] Male lead? Heroine? What does that mean? Liam turned to leave. Uncle Miller shouted at his back, “What about Ava’s birthday party?” Liam didn’t look back. “Can’t she not tell the difference? Let Lucas go!” The comments scrolled faster. [Heroine, don’t give up on the male lead! He hasn’t gone far. Just call him and cry, and he’ll come back immediately.] [He made you a necklace! He even planned when to kiss you!] [Anyone can be a heroine these days? Mute, blind, and now an emotionless autistic girl! The devoted male lead has it tough!] [Little autistic girl, if you don’t realize it soon, your Brother Liam won’t want you anymore!] … Don’t want me anymore? Liam’s back was disappearing. Panic seized me. I wanted to chase him downstairs, but suddenly saw a car stop at my gate. Someone got out. He stood up straight, revealing a face that was a carbon copy of Liam’s. He met my gaze and smiled at me gently. I stopped. My breathing… Seemed to return to normal. 3 I have autism. I couldn’t speak until I was five. I have all the typical characteristics. No eye contact, no communication, no socializing, no empathy, weak emotions. Luckily, my parents are rich. After discovering these traits, they took me to see countless experts. They decided to build an inclusive kindergarten for me, accepting kids who couldn’t afford tuition, asking teachers to guide them to play with me, hoping I would learn to speak through daily interaction with peers. That’s where I met Liam. We first met outside the kindergarten. I chased a little girl out and snatched her lollipop. The girl cried. Her grandma scolded me in words I didn’t understand and pinched my arm. While I lay on the ground screaming, he walked by with his small backpack. He asked the grandma what happened. After understanding, he went to the convenience store next door, bought a lollipop, gave it to the girl, and apologized for me. The grandma left with the girl. Liam wanted to take me back. I didn’t move, pointing at the convenience store. Liam patted his pockets. After a while, he said, “Call me brother, and I’ll buy it for you.” I called him. And got what I wanted. He helped me, and made me speak. My parents reciprocated, showering Liam’s parents with gifts, quickly becoming friends. Not long after, Liam’s parents sent him to my house. When they arrived at the door, I was counting the railings on the balcony. I heard the conversation between Liam and Uncle Miller. “Why me? Clearly…” “Ava has autism. She needs a playmate by her side 24/7. She needs you.” “But I need you guys too!” “We owe them untold amounts for your brother’s illness. We have to repay the favor. Besides, the house is crowded now. Don’t worry, they will treat you very well.” Uncle Miller wasn’t wrong. My parents treated him very well. The room prepared for him was right next to mine. He got everything I got—new clothes, new toys. He even had a card. My parents said our allowance was managed by him. But Liam still cried the first night. I followed the sound and curiously touched the water flowing from his eyes. “I don’t like you,” he told me. “You’re just like my brother, a burden.” How could there be so much water in his eyes? I kept wiping, wiping, endlessly wiping. He finally hugged me back. My parents didn’t actually ask much of Liam, but he was stubborn. He said he wanted to make me useful. He made me call him Brother Liam. He would hold my hand all the time, teaching me when to say hello, when to say no, when to say sorry and thank you. He even acted like a tutor, assigning me tasks and giving rewards. I don’t know if my parents’ investment of money and manpower paid off, or if a couple of my wires finally connected, but under his help, I improved rapidly those years, becoming closer and closer to a normal person. And I became more and more dependent on him. My parents had connections. Liam and I were in the same class for kindergarten, elementary, and middle school. High school was a bit harder, so my parents donated a building to achieve the goal. In freshman year, I got my period in class. Because I was scared, I threw myself onto Liam. Liam pushed me away and ran to the school store to buy pads. The stain soiled my pants and his. After that day, Liam suddenly moved out of my house and went back to live with his family. I wasn’t used to it and threw a tantrum. He kept a straight face, ears red, and said, “We should keep a distance.” “No.” “Didn’t you hear what the classmates are saying?” I heard. They said I was his little wife. But I didn’t care. “Brother Liam, come home. I want to be with Brother Liam.” He looked at me with a complex expression. “Do you really want to be with…” Then he shook his head. “Forget it, you wouldn’t understand…” I don’t know what decision Liam made privately, but he suddenly changed. He managed me more and more, stricter and stricter, with more specific demands, as if trying to turn me into someone else. My mom clearly told me I could just study casually, but he insisted on my grades. He wanted me to go to A University with him. Seeing me score only two or three hundred points each time, he would get angry. He was anxious, and his anxiety infected me. I started getting irritable. Once, pushed to the edge, I threw a pencil case at him. He apologized, but didn’t change. “I know you’re tired, but if you want to be with me, you have to do these things.” My medication dosage increased. He didn’t care. If I didn’t listen, he would ignore me. I was terrified of him ignoring me. It caused physiological panic and shortness of breath. He was part of two-thirds of my life. All the rules I knew were related to him. I couldn’t imagine life without him. So I bowed my head to him again and again, until the transfer student Sarah appeared. Sarah was lively and jumpy, a huge variable in my stable relationship with Liam. She said she wanted to be friends with us and offered to help me study. But I couldn’t understand her notes. She always talked to Liam, making him laugh. She even took the reward stickers Liam bought for me. I pushed her down. Liam yelled at me for the first time. He sternly demanded I apologize to her. He was obsessed with correcting my behavior, not caring about my reasons. He yelled until I cried. I apologized because I listened to Liam. But to make amends, he gave my breakfast to Sarah. He bought water for Sarah in P.E. class. He was supposed to tutor me, but tutored Sarah instead. He even told Sarah about my autism. Sarah mocked me in the classroom. “Heard that getting you to say a sentence earns a thousand dollar reward. I talked to you so much, do you owe me tens of thousands?” “Liam says you’re obedient if given candy. Here, candy for you. Meow like a kitten for big sister?” I didn’t quite understand why she said these things, but I recognized the malice in her eyes. I threw the candy at her. Liam wanted me to apologize again. I refused. “If you don’t apologize, I won’t take you to the amusement park this weekend.” He kept a straight face. “You can’t hit people for any reason. An aggressive autistic person won’t have friends. I hope you remember this.” He didn’t seem wrong. But why did my chest feel so tight? Mom said if someone hits or scolds me, I can hit back. I yelled, “I don’t want her as a friend!” Liam roared, “Ava!” I turned and ran. I didn’t want to bow my head anymore. Mom found out about this when I got home, but she still took me to the amusement park. The sky was blue, and the balloons at the gate were pretty. I stared at the fountain in a daze. “Liam” arrived. Mom told me to call him Brother Liam. He agreed and accompanied me into the park. “Are you not angry anymore?” “Why would I be angry?” “I hit someone.” “You had a reason, right? Were you bullied?” I nodded. “Peaceful resolution is best, of course, but if not, just protect yourself…” He smiled. “I’ll handle the apologies.” He seemed a bit different. Very gentle, spoke slowly, walked slowly. Whatever I did, he looked at me with a smile. When I got my hands dirty eating cotton candy, he didn’t lecture me, just wiped my hands and praised me for eating well. I vaguely saw another identical face when I looked back once that day, but his face was livid. But “Brother Liam” was right beside me, so I didn’t mind. Turns out the one beside me that day was his brother, Lucas. 4 “Ava! Your Brother Liam is here! Come cut the cake!” Mom called me. I saw Lucas standing next to the cake with Mom, smiling at me. He wore a nice suit that made his waist look slim and legs long. The star pattern on the fabric matched his eyes perfectly. I ran down the stairs, slipped somehow, and flew forward. Lucas reached out to catch me, and I knocked him and the cake onto the floor together. Under everyone’s gaze, my eighteen-layer cake turned into a pile of smashed dough on the floor. Lucas landed on his back, and I fell on his chest. He hissed in pain but didn’t forget to shield my head with his hand, saving me from being smashed by cream. This scene happened so suddenly that the room went silent. “Ava! Apologize!” Liam’s angry face suddenly drilled into my mind. It was like a conditioned reflex. I panicked, scrambled up, hunched my shoulders, and hid behind Mom. Mom helped Lucas up. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” Lucas shook his head, then smiled at me. “Did it hurt, Ava?” I turned a deaf ear, staring at the shapeless cream on him, murmuring, “The first piece of cake was for Brother Liam.” Lucas realized. He bent down, picked up a piece of cake from the floor, and put it in his mouth right in front of me. “Thanks, Ava,” he smiled. “It’s delicious.” I stared at him blankly, unable to understand my emotions for a moment.

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1 The year I turned thirty-two, my dad’s nagging about marriage became an all-out, indiscriminate assault. So I promptly broke up with my supermodel girlfriend of four years, packed my bags, and moved back to my hometown. My best friend was floored. “Are you insane? I thought you were obsessed with Sienna’s face. You can really just walk away?” I scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. A woman like her is a thrill to date, but to actually marry her? Do I look like I want to spend the rest of my life catching her cheating and then forgiving her?” The words had barely left my mouth when a voice, as cold as ice yet terrifyingly familiar, cut through the air behind me. “Lucas, is that really why you dumped me?” … Dragging my suitcase back to the apartment Sienna and I shared, I bumped right into a guy walking out. He was wearing a flimsy tank top with Sienna’s oversized shirt thrown carelessly over it. Barefoot, he was carrying a pair of limited-edition sneakers in one hand. I recognized him. Aaron. A print model Sienna had recently signed. Barely twenty, bursting with a raw, youthful energy. I instinctively took a step back, melting into the shadows of the elevator bay. A few seconds later, Sienna followed him out. She was wrapped in nothing but a bath towel, her hair still dripping, her skin flushed with a post-shower glow. Leaning against the doorframe, she lit a slender cigarette, her expression a perfect blend of languid and weary. After a moment, she casually tossed an unopened box for the latest iPhone at him. “Here.” Aaron’s eyes lit up. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Sienna with a joyous shout. “Oh my god! No way, the new one! Sienna, you’re the best!” “Picked it up on my way back from the Paris show.” “I fucking love you, baby!” Aaron leaned in to kiss her. But Sienna’s patience had worn thin. With a slight frown, she turned her head, dodging the kiss. “Alright, that’s enough. Get going.” The boy didn’t seem to mind. He pouted, a mix of flirtation and complaint in his voice. “So cruel. Use a guy and toss him aside. Just a minute ago in bed you were calling me your little wolf pup.” He clutched the new phone box gleefully, blowing Sienna a kiss as he left. “Gone! See you at the studio tomorrow.” Only after he was gone did I step out from the shadows. Sienna clearly hadn’t expected me back from my business trip so early. She froze for a second, but the surprise quickly melted back into her usual mask of indifference. “You’re back. Didn’t you say—” “Flight got changed,” I said, my eyes fixed on her. “It was late. I didn’t want to wake you.” The faint, reddish marks on her collarbone were fresh and damningly obvious, but she showed no hint of shame. She walked over, reaching for my luggage. “You must be exhausted. I’ll run you a bath.” As she bent over, the towel loosened, revealing more of her flushed skin. It was as if the scene I’d just witnessed had never happened. Seeing me stand motionless, she raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?” Then, a flicker of understanding crossed her face, and a slow, lazy smile played on her lips. “Miss me?” She moved closer, her scent a heady mix of her floral body wash and another man’s cologne. Her hand slid expertly under the hem of my shirt. “Then let’s take care of business first, and then we can—” Her fingertips, calloused from years of handling cameras and paintbrushes, traced a path across my skin, raising a familiar, tingling heat. I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I pushed her away. I have to admit, I was addicted to Sienna’s body. I’d pursued her after seeing her just once at an art exhibition, completely thunderstruck by her beauty. But now, whether it was the ten-hour flight or the lingering image of the boy who had just left, all I felt was a knot of disgust. I had zero interest. Sienna was rarely rejected by me. She stood there, stunned for a moment, before her expression darkened. “What’s with the attitude?” My gaze dropped to the floor, landing on a single man’s sock on the entryway rug. It wasn’t mine. Sienna saw it too. She clicked her tongue, her face tightening with annoyance. A dead silence fell over the living room. She pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it, the smoke coiling around her like a shroud. “He’s just a model. Drank too much, had nowhere to go. I let him crash here for a night.” “We didn’t do anything.” 2 I stared at her, the white smoke a veil between us, obscuring both our faces. But we both knew how pathetic that excuse was. This wasn’t the first time. Sienna was born to be surrounded by admirers, a moth drawn to an endless series of flames. She was like this when I met her. My company was launching an art collaboration, and my friend took me to meet a rising avant-garde photographer. He warned me she was brilliant but had a terrible temper. I wasn’t a fan of artists; they always struck me as overly dramatic. And then Sienna walked in. She wore a simple white shirt, her slightly-too-long hair tied in a messy knot at the back of her head, a few stray strands falling across the bridge of her perfect nose. The moment she entered, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the conference room. Her face was a masterpiece sculpted by the gods. She lifted her gaze, and her almond-shaped eyes, the kind poets write about, swept over the room with a detached, almost careless coolness. I didn’t hear a single word she said that day. My mind was consumed with one thought: how to make her mine. After the meeting, a crowd swarmed her, trying to get her number. She turned them all down with an icy stare. Only I persisted, cornering her in the parking garage. After twenty-six years of being terminally single, it was the boldest move of my life. Maybe she was annoyed, maybe she found it novel, but whatever the reason, I became her boyfriend. And I had been, until now. But I knew that in our four years together, Sienna had never truly loved me. Or rather, she loved parts of me. She loved that I was independent, that I was “understanding,” that I could handle the PR disasters that constantly swirled around her. She loved that I never questioned the gossip, the late nights, the endless string of “friends.” Every time I caught her, she’d toss out a flimsy excuse, and I would forgive her. She once laughed at me, saying I was too clear-headed, not like a real man in love. She also joked that the day she met her true soulmate, she’d kick me to the curb without a second thought. Our relationship was held together by my tolerance alone. “You promised me you wouldn’t bring people back to the apartment anymore,” I said, my voice low, my eyes fixed on the sock. A flicker of mockery crossed her face. She was in no mood to placate me. “Since when did you get so hung up on details?” She leaned in, blowing a stream of smoke in my face, her eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “Can’t handle it?” “If you can’t handle it, then get the hell out.” She’d said that countless times over the past four years. And every time, I was the one who backed down, who apologized, who held her and begged her not to be angry. Over time, she learned my weakness. She knew that as long as she held that threat over my head, I was powerless. I turned my head away. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Sienna’s hand shot out, her fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. She had high, sharp cheekbones that gave her an intimidating intensity when she was serious. “Know when to quit, Lucas. Don’t push your luck.” I yanked my hand free and walked into the guest room. A few moments later, the front door slammed with enough force to shake the walls. Sienna was gone. She was angry. I knew it. After all, I was always the one to compromise, to soothe her ego. I’d never given her the cold shoulder like this before. I rolled over and opened my phone. In the family group chat, my dad had sent another photo of a woman. “Lucas, this is the one Aunt Katherine introduced. A university professor. You’re 32 this year, it’s time to get serious.” I switched to my work chat. My boss had tagged me. “@Lucas, HQ is setting up a new Brand Strategy department and they need a Director. I think your skills are a perfect fit. The resources and platform at headquarters are on a whole other level. Think about it.” My dad wanted me to come home for arranged dates. My company wanted to promote me and transfer me to headquarters, which just so happened to be in my hometown. The timing, the place, the people—it seemed I had no reason to stay in this city anymore. I sighed. To be honest, I really liked Sienna. She was beautiful, she had a killer body, and we were incredible in bed. Most importantly, she was a mess. Being with her was easy. I didn’t have to think about the future or take any real responsibility for her. I met her when I was buried in stress at work, just looking for a release. I’m picky about looks, a fatal flaw, but then I found Sienna. I had her during her prime years. She was the one who soothed me with her body through countless late nights while I was fighting for my KPIs. And while she had a revolving door of men, she was careful. All her flings had to provide regular health reports. I took precautions; I wasn’t afraid of catching anything. Finding another… partner… this compatible would be tough. But it couldn’t be helped. Dating is one thing, marriage is another. I liked Sienna a lot. But I also knew, with absolute clarity, that she was not the one. Now, the game was over. 3 Sienna didn’t come back that night. For the next few days, she completely vanished. My texts went unanswered. My calls went straight to voicemail. Then, a red exclamation mark appeared next to my messages. She’d blocked me. Her signature move: the cold shoulder. It had happened before. Sienna was a master of the silent treatment. Each time, I’d have to hunt her down at her art gallery or her favorite bars, groveling and begging until she’d unblock me. But this time, I was busy with my work handover. I didn’t have time to play her games. That evening, as I was booking my flight back to HQ, my phone rang. It was Sienna’s assistant. The background noise was deafening—thumping music and the riotous laughter of a crowd. “Mr. Hayes? Sienna’s had a bit too much to drink. She’s at a bar called Phantom. Could you possibly come and get her?” Sienna loved to party. Her family was loaded; art was just an expensive hobby. I once asked her why she didn’t join the family business. She’d scoffed, saying her mother’s illegitimate children were already tearing each other apart over the inheritance, and she couldn’t be bothered to join the fight. Besides, her grandmother’s and father’s shares would eventually be hers anyway. She just wanted to live her life exactly as she pleased. Sienna had zero career ambition. In that respect, we were polar opposites. Whenever I landed a big deal or got a promotion, I’d tell her, and she’d respond with a listless disinterest. She’d once said contemptuously that killing yourself for a salary that couldn’t even buy a bottle of Ace of Spades was pointless. I knew we were fundamentally different people. We had nothing in common except for the physical connection. I didn’t understand her soul; I only coveted her body. She ignored my efforts; she only took my compliance for granted. Which was fine. It meant that when we split, neither of us would be heartbroken. I thought for a moment, then agreed. After hanging up, I glanced at my flight details. Ten in the morning, the day after tomorrow. I sighed. I hadn’t really wanted to break up this quickly. We were so good in bed, and with the stress of a new position, I was kind of hoping for one last go. A breakup fuck. I clicked my tongue, a little disappointed. But since the opportunity had presented itself, I might as well go with the flow. … When I arrived at Phantom, Sienna was the center of attention in a VIP booth, surrounded by a glittering crowd. Men and women, all stylish, all beautiful, their faces glowing with the collagen of youth. It made sense. Sienna was rich, gorgeous, and generous. On her, even promiscuity was spun into the “untamed” charm of an artist. I subconsciously touched the fine lines around my own eyes, recalling something Sienna had once said with a hint of disdain. “Lucas, you’re 32. Can’t you take better care of yourself? Stop being so rugged.” No wonder she was tired of me. She was surrounded by kids in their early twenties. I stayed silent, standing at the edge of the crowd. Our eyes met across the booth. She acted like she didn’t see me, her gaze flicking away almost immediately. Aaron, his face flushed with alcohol, was practically draped over her, his voice syrupy. “Come on, Sienna, one more drink.” Sienna smiled. Under the shifting lights, her almond-shaped eyes shimmered like dark water, breathtakingly beautiful but utterly devoid of warmth. “Drinking like this is boring. You feed it to me.” “How?” Sienna didn’t answer, just lowered her gaze to his lips. It took him half a second to understand. A flash of ecstasy lit up his eyes. He tilted his head back and downed the glass of champagne. Then, Sienna’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of his head as she crashed her lips against his. Her kiss was anything but gentle; it was a release, an act of aggression. Aaron tilted his head back to receive it, the corners of his eyes turning red from a lack of oxygen. Champagne dribbled from the corners of their locked mouths. The atmosphere around them exploded. Whistles and cheers erupted from the crowd. I knew she was doing it for me. She was punishing me. Punishing me for not placating her the other night, for daring to give her the cold shoulder. It wasn’t until I walked right up to their booth that the noise died down. Everyone turned to watch the show. Sienna looked up, her expression placid. “What are you doing here?” I stared at that face, and for a fleeting moment, I was lost in the memory of four years, of countless nights tangled together. In the heat of passion, we had even said “I love you.” Did it hurt? Maybe a little. But it wasn’t agony. After all, I had always known who Sienna was. Promiscuous, always chasing the next thrill, incapable of saying no. Selfish, raised to be the center of the universe, never considering anyone’s feelings but her own. My voice trembled as I spoke. “Sienna, you’ve gone too far.” She looked at me, and though she was sitting and I was standing, I felt as if she were looking down on me. She wore that same placid expression, tinged with a faint, contemptuous smile. “Too far? You can always break up with me. I’m not stopping you.” I said nothing, just held her gaze. I couldn’t count how many times she’d used that threat against me. Eighty? A hundred? A friend next to her must have thought she’d pushed it, tugging at her arm. “Sienna, come on. Look at Lucas, he’s crushed.” And in fact, my eyes were red. If you’re going to put on a show, you go all the way. When that single tear hit the carpet, I saw her expression falter, just for a second. The hand holding her cigarette twitched. But she said nothing, only watched me with that cold, unwavering stare. The next second, I spoke, my voice barely a whisper. “Fine, Sienna.” “Let’s break up.” The mask on Sienna’s face finally cracked. For a moment, I thought she was going to flip the table. But instead, she laughed. It was a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes, a sound that seemed squeezed from between clenched teeth. “Alright, Lucas. You’ve grown a spine. But you remember this: I don’t do second chances.” “So don’t come fucking crawling back to me like a dog.” “I won’t,” I nodded, wiping the tear from my cheek. Then I turned and walked away, and I didn’t look back. Sienna didn’t come home that night. I spent the early hours deleting her from my contacts, my socials, my life, and packing the last of my things. The next morning, I was on the first flight back to headquarters. As the plane climbed into the clouds, I pulled out my SIM card and dropped it into the trash bag. 4 I never contacted Sienna again. Life back at headquarters quickly fell into a routine. I quickly adapted to the rhythm of the new department and even met the woman my parents had arranged for me to see.

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On the very first day of lectures, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a text from Mom. [Class is 45 minutes long. You’ve been scrolling TikTok for 31 minutes and 56 seconds! Is this how you repay me for sending you to college?] A split second later, my professor’s phone rang. She put it on speaker, and the whole lecture hall heard my mother’s banshee shriek. “My daughter is playing on her phone instead of studying! Professor, confiscate it immediately!” My professor, looking exhausted, replied, “Ma’am, Chloe is a college student. Parents really shouldn’t be micromanaging at this level.” My classmates snickered, whispering about the pathetic girl who couldn’t cut the umbilical cord. But I was frozen, staring at the new message flashing on my screen. [You are forbidden from eating that spicy takeout for lunch. Or else.] Mom was a thousand miles away. How did she know my exact screen time? And how the hell did she know I had just ordered spicy noodles? 1 [That spicy trash is full of chemicals. I’m giving you three minutes to cancel the order.] Another text. I jerked my head up, scanning the room frantically. The snickering had stopped; everyone was back on their own devices. The professor was droning on about syllabus policies. No sign of Mom. No suspicious figures watching me. My brain was short-circuiting. I couldn’t figure out how she knew my every move. My fingers trembled as I typed back. [Mom, how do you know what I’m doing?] Her reply was instant. [I can know whatever I want.] [Chloe, don’t make Mommy unhappy.] [You have 2 minutes and 12 seconds left.] [2 minutes, 7 seconds.] Buzz. Buzz. My phone vibrated relentlessly, counting down like a bomb. The numbers dropped too fast. It felt like a giant hand was wrapping around my throat, squeezing the air out of me. In my panic, I hallucinated Mom standing there with a stopwatch, her eyes dark and heavy. “You didn’t brush your teeth for the full three minutes. Do it again!” “School is two miles away. It took you twenty minutes. Did you stop to play on the way home?” “You took 12 minutes on this worksheet. That’s 18 seconds slower than last time. No sleep tonight. Do it again!” Ever since the divorce when I was twelve, Mom poured her entire existence into me. She was determined to raise the perfect daughter, to prove she didn’t need Dad. When I slept, what I ate, when I woke up—everything followed her script. I tried to rebel once. I locked my bedroom door on a Saturday to sleep in. Mom hacked the door down with a meat cleaver. “Why are you locking the door?! Are you doing something dirty inside?!” “Time is life! Get up and study!” We went through a dozen locks. eventually, I stopped locking the door. I stopped struggling. I let her pilot my life. No password on my phone. No lock on my diary. My clothes, my sheets, even my phone case—everything had to be pink. “Girls use pink. You like black? Black represents evil! It means your mind is twisted!” She threw away my black hoodies and forced me to keep my hair long, demanding I “look like a lady.” She denied my taste, my choices, my autonomy. Every time I pushed back, she would give me that heartbroken look. “You’re too young, you don’t understand. Mommy is doing this for your own good.” “With a personality like yours, you’d never survive without me.” “I do all of this because I love you!” Middle school through high school—six years of living in her shadow. I thought getting accepted into a university across the country was my escape ticket. But… [Time remaining: 1 minute, 11 seconds.] Her messages were flooding in. I quickly checked her Facebook. She posted selfies from her Zumba class every day. She had posted one fifteen minutes ago. She was definitely back home, not here in the city. I played the part of the good daughter. [Okay, Mom. I canceled the order.] The countdown stopped instantly. Maybe she just guessed I’d order the spicy noodles? It was my favorite, after all. But the screen time… I couldn’t explain that. Just to be safe, I turned off every privacy permission for my video apps. Then I checked my food delivery app. She wasn’t here. I was an adult. She wasn’t going to control my lunch. 2 Mom didn’t text again. I grabbed my spicy beef noodle soup from the delivery rack and snuck it back to the dorm. I put on a trendy idol drama to watch while I ate. Just as I was grinning at a romantic scene, a notification banner dropped down. [Stop watching that brain-rot TV show. Use your downtime to study.] I froze. A chill crawled up my spine. I scanned the dorm room. It was just me and two roommates. Did she install a micro-camera when she helped me move in? I tore the room apart looking for a lens but found nothing. Suddenly, a woman’s voice shouted from the hallway. “Who is Chloe Jiang? Phone ending in 2215!” “Chloe Jiang!” I rushed out. “That’s me. What’s wrong?” A woman wearing an apron with the spicy noodle shop’s logo looked at me with relief. She shoved a wad of cash into my hand. “Finally. Here. $23.50. That’s your refund.” “Where are the noodles? Give them back. Now.” “Your mother called my shop over a hundred times! She said my food is poison and she’d keep calling until I took it back.” “I can’t take it anymore! I’m not doing your business!” I stood there, paralyzed. The woman spotted the takeout container on my desk. She rushed in, grabbed it, and snapped a photo. She pulled out her phone. I saw the chat window. It was my mother’s profile picture. “Ma’am, I took the food back. Your daughter only ate three bites.” She sent the voice note, then looked at me with a mix of pity and annoyance. “Kid, if your mom doesn’t let you eat spicy food, don’t order it. You’re making me run back and forth for nothing.” Her words felt like a slap in the face. Students were gathering in the hallway, watching the drama. I slammed the door and dialed Mom, my hands shaking. “It was just soup! It wasn’t poison! Why did you harass the shop owner?!” Mom’s voice was calm, righteous. “This is the price of lying.” “If you had listened and canceled the order, or eaten something healthy, Mommy wouldn’t have had to do that.” She twisted it back on me. My anger exploded. “I am eighteen! Can you stop controlling me?! Can’t I have a shred of freedom?!” “How do you know everything I’m doing?! Tell me!” Silence on the other end. Then, a heavy sigh. “Chloe, I don’t like it when you yell.” My throat clicked shut. Conditioned reflex. Since I was a toddler, I knew the rule: My emotions didn’t matter. Only hers did. I couldn’t cry, couldn’t be annoyed, couldn’t get mad. Because if I did, her reaction would be ten times worse. Sure enough, she started sobbing. “I feed you, I clothe you, I suffered so much to raise you, and this is how you treat me?” “If it weren’t for you, I would have divorced your father years earlier. I endured him for you!” “Your father has no conscience, he cheated on me, and now you won’t even empathize with me? I should just die.” The familiar, suffocating guilt washed over me. I hung my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was wrong…” Hearing my apology, she sniffled, satisfied. She nagged me a bit more, then hung up. I buried my face in my hands and screamed silently. I was a thousand miles away, and I was still in her cage. My roommate, Sarah, patted my back. “Don’t cry, Chloe.” “Your mom is… intense. Hey, maybe you should apply for the study abroad program?” “I asked Professor Hayes. Freshmen can apply.” “Your mom might be powerful, but she can’t micromanage you from London or Tokyo.” “But…” Sarah paused, looking confused. “There are no cameras here. She doesn’t know us. How did she know which restaurant you ordered from?” Right. And she knew what show I was watching. I forced myself to calm down. When Sarah mentioned studying abroad, Mom didn’t text to stop me. She didn’t hear that. TikTok, delivery apps, streaming apps… it was all on my phone. A terrifying thought crossed my mind. I opened a delivery app and ordered a bubble tea. The second the payment went through, a text arrived. [Bubble tea is bad for your body. Cancel it!] I frantically hit ‘Cancel’. Instant reply: [That’s Mommy’s good girl.] I threw the phone across the room like it was a venomous snake. My eyes widened in horror. 3 I paid a computer science major to check my device. He confirmed it. There was a hidden monitoring app rooted deep in the system. The admin could see my screen in real-time. No wonder she let me travel so far. She bought my train ticket. Before I left, she “checked the schedule” on my phone several times. She had been installing spyware. I couldn’t uninstall it. I couldn’t block it. If the signal went dark, she’d be on the next plane. But… this was leverage. As long as I didn’t use the phone, I could do whatever I wanted. My heart started racing. It was the thrill of freedom. I explained the situation to my roommates. They were sympathetic. “I’ll buy all the dorm supplies,” I told them. “You guys just transfer me the cash.” I couldn’t buy in bulk, or Mom would get suspicious. Toilet paper, wipes, body wash—I bought them on my phone, following her strict brand requirements. Every time I ordered, her approval texts came in. [Don’t buy that cheap brand. Buy the one I told you.] [Don’t be stingy. Buy quality.] [Send me a photo when it arrives.] I played the obedient soldier. I kept the cash my roommates paid me. It became my secret fund. Using Sarah’s laptop, I submitted the application for the exchange program. In two weeks, I had saved nearly a thousand dollars in cash. I used cash to buy spicy noodles. I bought black clothes. I drank bubble tea. No one stopped me. I started smiling more. When Sarah suggested a music festival on the weekend, I actually said yes. I waited until 10:00 PM—Mom’s mandatory bedtime. I turned off my phone. Then I put on a black dress and snuck out. First time drinking alcohol. First time dancing under stage lights, bass thumping in my chest. I laughed loud and hard. This was what being young was supposed to feel like. We walked back to campus at dawn, buzzing with adrenaline. But as we reached the dorm entrance, my smile froze. My mother was standing there. 4 Mom audited my shopping orders every week. Yesterday, she noticed I bought an extra pack of pads. She suspected a health issue and called. But it was after 10 PM. My phone was off. She called the dorm warden to wake me up, only to find out I wasn’t in my bed. She flew to the city overnight. She looked at me with pure disgust. “Chloe Jiang, your wings have really hardened, haven’t they? Staying out all night!” “What are you wearing? That skirt doesn’t even cover your knees! Did you go out to find men?” Her rage boiled over. She pulled a pair of scissors out of her purse. She grabbed a handful of my long hair and hacked it off. “I told you not to be a slut!” “Liar! I know everything! You’ve been eating junk food! Buying things for others to get cash! Is this how you repay me?” “You are rotten to the bone!” She screamed curses, hitting and kicking me right there on the sidewalk. I had been through this a thousand times. I curled into a ball, protecting my head, staring at the concrete. I didn’t dare look up. I was terrified of meeting the eyes of the students walking by. My roommates tried to intervene. “Ma’am, calm down! Chloe was with us all night…” “Get lost, you tramps!” Mom shoved Sarah to the ground. “It’s you lowlifes who corrupted my daughter!” “She was perfect before she came here!” No… You forced me to be perfect. Suddenly, Mom grabbed my wrist. She yanked my head up. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair wild. “You’re coming home! You’re dropping out!” “You’re only safe when you’re with Mommy!” That sentence broke me. The dam holding back eighteen years of suppression burst. I lunged and snatched the scissors from her hand. I pressed the sharp tip against my own throat. “I am not going with you! I am not going back to that cage!” “Get out of here! Leave me alone or I’ll die right now!” I was done. Done with the pink room. Done with the suffocation. Done with being her pet dog. “Chloe, don’t be stupid!” Panic flashed in her eyes. I pressed harder. A drop of blood trickled down my neck. She froze. Then, she dropped to her knees. She started wailing. “What did I do wrong?! Why are you breaking my heart like this?!” “If you die, I’ll die too!” She started listing her sacrifices again, trying to weaponize her pain to make me bow my head. But it just destroyed my last shred of sanity. Shut up! I wanted to die. She wanted to die. Fine! Let’s all just die!

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Chapter 1 I never thought my ex-flame would use a company meeting to destroy me. But there it was. On my laptop screen, projected for the entire boardroom to see. A video of him and his current girlfriend, going at it. The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room, amplifying the sudden, suffocating silence. Waves of shock and disdain crashed over me from my colleagues. Panic and shame clawed at my throat as I scrambled to slam the laptop shut. I turned, trembling, only to see Julian Thorne smirking, a cruel twist to his lips. “Can’t handle it?” he sneered. In that moment, I knew. He did this on purpose. He’d swapped my presentation. He wanted me humiliated. He wanted me to watch him making love to another woman until it broke me. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I remembered when we were in love. We were so close, just waiting for that final barrier to fall. Then, my so-called best friend set me up. I was framed for climbing into his bed, then accused of digging for the Thorne family fortune and stealing trade secrets. Because of that scandal, the Thorne dynasty nearly collapsed. Julian’s parents, driving frantically to deal with debt collectors, lost control of their car on a cliffside road. No survivors. Everyone blamed me. I became the villain of the century. Then came the diagnosis: Leukemia. Not wanting to drag Julian down with a dying woman, I left. That’s when I found out I was pregnant. Twins. One was born weak and sickly; the other was taken from me, missing without a trace. When I returned, desperate for money to save the only child I had left, I swallowed my pride. I agreed to be Julian’s assistant. I knew he only kept me around to torture me. I bit my lip, refusing to look at him. But my silence only seemed to infuriate him. He let out a cold laugh, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the mahogany table. “Take it off.” Two words. The room cleared instantly, colleagues fleeing the tension. I looked at him in disbelief. “Take off what?” “Vanessa’s dress got ruined. She’s in my lounge right now, and she doesn’t want to see your face. So, take yours off and give it to her.” Julian’s voice was ice. My chest tightened, a suffocating pressure building behind my ribs. I swallowed the rising bile of grievance. “Julian,” I whispered. “If I strip in the conference room, how am I supposed to walk out of here?” “Walk out naked. Or were you hoping someone would carry you?” He leaned back, eyes dark. “Think about your situation, Elara. If you want the money, be a good girl.” The threat hung in the air. I unclenched my fists. My baby was in the ICU. I couldn’t watch my child die. Slowly, I reached for the zipper. The office lights glared off the glass walls. Outside, people were watching, waiting to see my shame. Finally, I tossed my dress onto the table. Julian watched, savoring my humiliation. “Does it hurt, Elara? You deserve it. Compared to what you did to me, this is nothing.” His malice was undisguised. Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back. What did I do wrong back then? I was framed. No one believed me. I was innocent, yet I was the sinner in everyone’s eyes. I thought I had moved on, but the tears wouldn’t listen. Julian grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Crying? Already? Save your tears. You’re going to need them for what comes next.” He wiped a tear from my cheek with a rough thumb, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I’m in a good mood. Company retreat tonight. Everyone attends. Especially you.” He let go, and the stinging in my bones—the leukemia—flared up, nearly buckling my knees. I sank to the floor, hugging myself, shivering. Even after he left, the phantom sounds of that video echoed in my ears. Hours later, after everyone had gone, a coworker quietly handed me a spare coat. “What did you do to offend the boss? He’s going to eat you alive at dinner.” It was the only kindness I’d felt in months. I shook my head, unable to speak. The history between Julian and me was too heavy for words. I knew he had more humiliation planned for the retreat, but I had no choice. When I pushed open the door to the private room at the restaurant, I saw her immediately. Vanessa, nestled in Julian’s arms. She was wearing a red slip dress—definitely not the one I had taken off. She smiled at me. “Julian said your dress was too shabby for me. You aren’t mad, are you, Elara?” I looked at her gloating face, pressed my lips together, and lowered my eyes. “Does she dare be mad?” Julian scoffed, addressing the room. He slid three full glasses of liquor across the table toward me. “Late arrivals are penalized three drinks. You know the rules.” My doctor had been explicitly clear: No alcohol. Not with the leukemia. “I can’t drink,” I said, my voice trembling. Julian’s face went cold. “Can’t drink? How about this?” He pulled a check from his pocket and slapped it onto the table. “Fifty thousand dollars. Finish the bottles on the table, and it’s yours. Is that enough?” He sneered. “For a woman like you, who’d do anything for cash, this should be easy.” My heart shattered. I stared at the check. I thought of the ICU bills. I closed my eyes, grabbed the first bottle, and started chugging. One bottle. Two. The pain in my stomach blurred as the alcohol hit my blood. The room went silent as they watched their CEO’s face grow darker with every swallow I took. He hated me, didn’t he? He should be happy I was debasing myself. Why did he look so angry? I slammed the last empty bottle down, snatched the check, and shoved it into my pocket. “I’ll take the check—” Before I could finish, the burning in my stomach sent me running. I barely made it to the restroom before throwing up everything, blood mixing with bile. I was rinsing my face with freezing water, shivering, when I heard a sharp voice behind me. “I overestimated you. I thought you really didn’t care.” Vanessa walked into the frame of the mirror, applying lipstick. “You left, broke his heart, and now you crawl back to seduce him? Have you no shame?” I looked up, panic setting in. Vanessa capped her lipstick aggressively. “Keep your mouth shut. After Julian and I get married next month, I’ll tell you where your other kid is. Until then, stay out of sight.” Chapter 2 “My child?” My eyes lit up. When I first returned, Vanessa hinted she knew what happened to my missing twin. I had to believe her. I’d been searching for years while trying to keep my sick child alive. I stepped closer, desperate. “Where? Tell me!” But as I moved, I saw the hickeys on her neck. My breath hitched. Then, a sharp cramp in my stomach doubled me over. Vanessa watched coldly. “I’m actually worried you won’t live long enough to find out. Try not to die, Elara.” She clicked away in her high heels. Sweat drenched my back. I gripped the sink, forcing myself to stand. I had to live. For the kids. I dragged myself to the hospital. Dr. Liam Pierce looked at my test results and went silent. “Your condition is critical, and you’re drinking? Do you want to die? Your stomach is bleeding. You need to be admitted. Now.” My lips were pale. “Liam, I need the money. Just give me the meds, like usual.” He sighed, frustrated, but wrote the prescription. I visited my baby in the ward, then checked my bank account. Less than a hundred dollars. I clutched the fifty-thousand-dollar check, grateful I had sold my dignity for it. On the waiting room TV, news of the Julian-Vanessa engagement was breaking. They looked perfect together. My eyes burned. I went home to take my meds. I woke up at 3:00 AM to a dozen missed calls from Julian. Thinking maybe he felt guilty, I called back. “What kind of garbage was that proposal you submitted?” His voice was freezing. “Redo it. I want a satisfactory draft by morning, or don’t bother coming in.” I checked my laptop. I had sent that draft three days ago. He hadn’t even opened it. In the background of the call, I heard a woman’s moan. “Julian… please… I can’t take anymore…” “You started this fire,” Julian growled. “Already tired?” I hung up, tears streaming down my face. I spent the rest of the night rewriting the proposal to save my child. The next morning, I handed him the new draft. He didn’t even read it. He threw the file in my face. “I told you to redo it, not give me this trash.” He walked to the shredder and fed my night’s work into it, staring at me the whole time. I stumbled back, falling, hitting my bruised knees. My leukemia caused my bones to ache constantly, but my heart hurt worse. I looked up at his hate-filled eyes. “Okay. I’ll write it again.” I went back to my desk. Halfway through, a stack of contracts landed on my head. “Why didn’t you go to the meeting with Mr. Carter yesterday?” Julian demanded. “Remember your place, Elara. If you want money, do your job.” Yesterday? When he made me strip? How could I meet a client like that? “Yesterday, I—” “Excuses?” He cut me off. “If we lose this contract, the loss comes out of your pocket.” I nearly fainted. The contract was worth millions. I couldn’t pay that. He was driving me to a dead end. I rushed to Carter Corp to apologize. The receptionist kicked me out. “No appointment, no entry.” I waited outside for three hours in the scorching sun, then a sudden downpour soaked me to the bone. From the building across the street, I saw a silhouette in the window. Julian, swirling a glass of wine, smiling as I stood in the rain. How does it feel, Elara? his eyes seemed to say. I wiped rain from my face. I didn’t kill his parents. He never believed me. Then Vanessa appeared beside him. They toasted, laughed, and kissed passionately against the glass. My heart went numb. The rain beat down, reminding me of the past. Once, in a storm, a pervert followed me. Julian had appeared, soaked half his body to keep me dry under his umbrella. “I’ll protect you forever, Elara,” he had said. Now, he was the storm. I laughed until I cried, unable to tell rain from tears. Finally, Carter’s car pulled out. The window rolled down. It was Julian driving. Vanessa was in the passenger seat. “Mr. Carter,” I begged, rushing to the car. “Just ten minutes, please!” Julian laughed. “You beg with no sincerity, Elara. Look at you. Disgusting.” He floored the gas. The car grazed my knee, knocking me into a puddle. Vanessa mouthed Loser and gave me the finger as they sped away. I sat in the mud, powerless. But I thought of the hospital bills. I forced myself up, limping to hail a taxi. “Follow that Maybach.” Chapter 3 I followed them to a shooting range. I ran up to Carter’s group, holding the soggy proposal. But Vanessa grabbed Julian’s arm, smiling wickedly. “Julian, I have a great idea for a game. But we need Elara’s help.” My stomach churned. “If Elara agrees to be our target,” Vanessa purred to Carter, “you should give her a chance to pitch. Deal?” Julian paused, then tapped Vanessa’s nose affectionately. “You always have such fun ideas.” He turned to me, his face hardening. “Unlike some money-hungry women who are just boring and vulgar.” I stood there, swaying. I wanted to scream that I did this for our son. But I couldn’t. “Fine,” I croaked. I put on the protective gear and stood by the targets. Before I was ready, Vanessa fired. The bullet grazed my left ear. Blood trickled down. It burned, but I felt numb. “You’re terrible at this, Elara! You’re supposed to dodge!” Vanessa laughed. “Good aim,” Julian clapped. My heart bled. He was cheering for the woman shooting at me. Bang. Another shot hit my stomach. The impact knocked the wind out of me. I fell, gasping. “Julian! Did you see? Bullseye!” Vanessa squealed, hugging him. “You’re amazing, babe,” Julian said. Then he pointed at me. “Get up. Let her shoot again. Or the deal is off.” I looked at him, remembering the eighteen-year-old boy who used to hold the gun for me so the recoil wouldn’t hurt my shoulder. That boy was dead. I forced myself up. Vanessa fired again. A hit to the chest. I collapsed, hitting my head on the back wall. The world spun. “Is she dead?” Vanessa scoffed. “Julian, surely she’s faking it.” “She’s nothing,” Julian said. “Get up, Elara. Stop being dramatic.” I watched him pick up a gun. He aimed. I froze. The bullet whizzed past my nose, grazing the tip. Blood gushed out. Tears blurred my vision. Those eyes… they used to look at me with so much love. Now, only hate. “You said… if I did this… I’d get a chance,” I gasped. Julian frowned, tossing the gun aside. “I was joking. You didn’t actually believe me, did you?” My world tilted. Joking? With my life? “You’re despicable, Julian!” I screamed. “Despicable? I’m not even half as bad as you were,” he retorted, turning to leave with Vanessa. I panicked and grabbed Carter’s sleeve. He shoved me away. “Don’t touch me. I didn’t promise anything. Ask the lady.” I realized this was all Vanessa’s game. But before I could beg her, Carter grabbed my arm. “Actually, I changed my mind. Julian’s ex is dirtying my suit. Lick it clean, and I’ll listen to your pitch. Right here, in front of Julian.” Carter sat down, spreading his legs, pointing to a spot on his shoe—or perhaps higher. It was pure humiliation. My nails dug into my palms. “Hurry up!” Carter barked. He grabbed my hair and forced my head down. Terrified, I reached out and grabbed Julian’s pant leg. “Julian, please…” He paused. Then he kicked my hand away. “What does this have to do with me? Who do you think you are to ask for my help?” He lit a cigarette, pulling Vanessa close. “Open your eyes. I have a girlfriend. Flirting with me in front of her? Do you think I won’t hurt you?” My heart froze. I couldn’t defend myself. “Elara is so stupid,” Vanessa giggled. “Did you really think anyone would dare bully you without Julian’s permission?” Her words struck me like lightning. I closed my eyes, accepting the despair. Carter pushed my head down harder. “Enough chatting. Show some sincerity.” Chapter 4 Carter wasn’t really going to let me pitch. He just wanted to break me. As he forced my head down, I panicked. I grabbed a heavy ashtray from the table and smashed it against his head. Slap. Carter backhanded me so hard my vision went black. I heard the sound of a second blow coming, but it never landed. Julian had stopped his hand. For a second, I saw concern in Julian’s eyes. But then he smiled, a cruel, twisted thing. He pulled out his phone. “911? I’d like to report an assault.” My hope died. “Did you think I was saving you?” he whispered, leaning down. “Use your brain. I’m calling the cops on you.” I collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. “Why are you doing this to me?” “You owe me this,” he hissed. “Go to jail and think about what you did.” Vanessa stepped on my hand with her stiletto heel as they left. “Enjoy the cell, Elara.” Seven days in detention. The inmates knew who put me there. They tortured me. Maggots in my food. Ice water at midnight. Beating me in the bathrooms. “Who do you think you are?” the leader of the cell block shouted, slamming my head into the wall. “Trying to seduce Mr. Thorne? With Miss Vanessa in the picture? You’re trash.” I lay on the cold floor, hallucinating the old Julian. The one who brought me water after gym class. The one who ignored everyone else just to sit by me. When I was released, I dragged my broken body home. The door was smashed open. Men were tearing my apartment apart. “Pay up!” one shouted. “You owe us on the loan!” “I never took a loan!” I cried. “Get out!” Vanessa walked in, clapping. “Still feisty?” Julian followed her. “I took the loan out in your name. To cover the losses from the Carter deal. You messed up, you pay.” My blood ran cold. He was systematically destroying me. My bank accounts were frozen. How would I pay for the hospital? “Julian, please,” I begged, grabbing his sleeve. “What do I have to do for you to let me go?” He shook me off. “Let you go? Did you let my parents go? I want you to suffer for the rest of your life.” I fell to the floor. When his family went bankrupt, I watched him work night shifts, living in a basement. I left him because I was dying and pregnant, not because I didn’t love him. I tried to save him from my burden. “Search the place!” Julian ordered the thugs. “Take anything valuable.” They smashed my furniture. I tried to stop them, but they shoved me into a bookshelf. Books rained down on me. Vanessa picked up a brown leather notebook. “Ooh, what’s this?”

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1 I was always a whirlwind, a rambunctious spirit who could never sit still. My family, however, was a portrait of quiet dignity. No one else seemed to appreciate the chaos I thrived on. The year I turned fifteen, I stayed up all night, meticulously crafting a birthday present for my older brother, Michael. When he opened it, a kaleidoscope of paper butterflies erupted from the box, startling him. His face immediately darkened. The next day, I was sent to an etiquette coach. Michael stood there, his brow furrowed with disapproval. “Mrs. Keller, my sister’s… disposition will make her a laughingstock in our circle. I see no other way. I can only entrust her to you to teach her some discipline.” “In return,” he added coolly, “the Lucas family will see to it that your daughter is taken care of for the rest of her life.” The next time I saw him was three years later. Michael’s eyes scanned my poised, serene form, and a look of deep satisfaction settled on his face as he prepared to take me home. But I simply tilted my head, my expression one of innocent confusion. “I’m sorry, who are you?” … Michael froze for a second, then his expression soured as he reached for me again. “Stop playing dumb. You don’t recognize your own brother?” “Mom and Dad are back from their world tour tonight. Come home with me; we’ll surprise them.” His tone was sharp, and I instinctively took two steps back, only to be met by a firm push from behind. “Mia, dear, go home with your brother!” I turned to see Mrs. Keller, the woman who had spoken. Her warning gaze met mine, and I flinched. Mrs. Keller was my etiquette coach. She was the epitome of grace and virtue, a gentle smile always playing on her lips. But her eyes… her eyes held a hidden threat. “Remember to be on your best behavior when you get back. You don’t want to be sent back here!” I nervously wrung my hands, only for one to be taken in a firm grip. Michael looked down at me. “Why are you sweating so much? Are you hot?” I could feel Mrs. Keller’s dangerous stare on my back and quickly shook my head. “N-no. I’m not hot.” Michael nodded, then turned to Mrs. Keller with a polite smile. “Mrs. Keller, Eliza seems to be enjoying her stay with us so much she doesn’t want to leave. I’m afraid it might be a few more days before we can bring her back to you.” At the mention of her daughter, Mrs. Keller’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s no problem at all! Let her stay as long as she likes. She can stay forever if she wants!” “These past few years, you’ve found her the best schools, arranged for her to study abroad… I can’t thank you enough!” Michael gave a slight nod. “You’ve taught Mia to be so well-behaved. It’s the least we could do.” With that, he led me to the car waiting to take me home. During the entire ride, I sat primly in my seat, a careful distance from my brother. My hands were folded in my lap, my back was ramrod straight. I didn’t dare speak. Michael’s gaze on me was soft. “Excellent. You finally look like a Lucas heiress.” “It seems we should double Mrs. Keller’s compensation.” Soon, the car pulled to a stop in an exclusive, gated community. Michael got out first, then thoughtfully circled around to open my door, extending his hand to me. I had been taught these courtesies. They were etched into my mind. I lifted my left hand and gently placed it in his palm. I stepped out, planting my foot firmly before gracefully exiting the vehicle. The smile in Michael’s eyes deepened. “Very good, Mia,” he praised. But in the next second, the hand resting in his suddenly clenched! The sight of the villa before me was surreal and disturbingly familiar. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. Michael frowned. “What’s wrong?” Goosebumps erupted on my skin, but I had to maintain my composure. I quickly shook my head. “N-nothing.” He released my hand. “Then let’s go inside. I have a present for you.” I followed him. The closer we got to the house, the more my head throbbed. Once we were inside, Michael presented me with a beautifully wrapped box. “Mia, welcome home.” He opened it, revealing a delicate butterfly bracelet. The color drained from my face. My head felt like it was splitting open. The butterfly on the bracelet seemed to come alive, its wings beating as it flew straight at me. My vision swam, and I thought I heard a shrill, angry voice echo in my mind: “You stayed up all night just to pull a prank? Mia, it’s my birthday! Can’t you be considerate for once in your life?” I was never the favorite child. I was too loud, too boisterous. The Lucas family rules were strict. My brother, Michael, was born with an innate air of reserved elegance, making him the apple of our parents’ eyes. But I was different. I was a carefree whirlwind, a bundle of hyperactive energy that didn’t seem to fit the Lucas mold. Before I turned fifteen, my parents had me take three different DNA tests. Each time, they would stare at the results and shake their heads in weary resignation. “Mia’s personality is just so… untamed. She’s nothing like the other debutantes.” “Richard, are you sure she’s ours? What did we do to deserve this?” “She and Michael are supposed to inherit the company one day. With this lack of decorum, she’ll be a disaster…” They never bothered to hide their conversations from me, and I never took them to heart. I’d usually just flash a mischievous grin and wrap my arms around my mother’s. “What, you two don’t want me anymore? Did you forget who mediated your last fight?” “You two would never have made up so quickly without me!” My mother would sigh, exasperated, and tap my forehead. “Honestly, what are we going to do with you?” And so, my life before fifteen, though filled with my family’s disapproval, was not unhappy. Until the day I got into a fight with the daughter of my father’s business partner over a dress. My parents gave me the silent treatment for a full day before quietly conferring with my brother. “This personality of hers will be a liability when she takes over the company. Michael, you need to find a good etiquette coach. It’s time she learned some discipline.” Michael nodded. “I’ll arrange it after my birthday.” That night, I stayed up until dawn, creating a butterfly kaleidoscope for him. The next morning, I stifled a yawn and pushed the gift into his arms. “Happy birthday.” He looked at my red-rimmed eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. But when he opened the box, he used too much force. The butterflies were supposed to flutter out one by one, a beautiful, ethereal display. Instead, his rough handling sent them all bursting out at once. Two of them grazed his eyes, nearly blinding him. His face turned to stone. For the first time, his legendary patience snapped. He smashed the box on the ground. “You stayed up all night just to pull a prank? Mia, it’s my birthday! Can’t you be considerate for once in your life!” I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. He just turned and walked away. The next day, I was sent to Mrs. Keller’s. These memories used to be crystal clear. But now, all I could recall were fragmented images and the sound of my brother’s angry reprimand. The rest was a complete blank. My headache intensified, and I rubbed my temples. Michael watched me, still patiently holding out the gift box. Just then, a girl ran over and snatched it from his hands. “Wow, this bracelet is gorgeous! Michael, can I have it?” “But this is a gift for Mia…” Michael, never one to say no, looked at me with a conflicted frown. A memory flashed in my mind—my parents scolding me for not knowing how to share after the fight over the dress. I quickly forced a smile. “You can have it. Here, let me help you put it on.” I graciously fastened the bracelet onto Eliza’s wrist and even offered a compliment. “It’s beautiful. It suits you!” She looked baffled, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You’re really giving it to me? You’re not angry?” I patted her hand magnanimously. “Of course not. Mrs. Keller taught me that sharing is a virtue.” Michael’s frown smoothed out, a genuine smile reaching his eyes. But Eliza just glared at me, yanked her hand away, and stormed off to her room. I didn’t understand why she was upset and felt a flicker of panic. “What’s wrong with her?” I asked Michael. “Why is she still unhappy after I gave her the bracelet?” “Her?” The smile on Michael’s face vanished. “You don’t remember Eliza? She’s Mrs. Keller’s daughter. You’ve met her several times.” At the mention of Mrs. Keller, my expression shifted, and tension coiled in my stomach. Michael, ever observant, finally realized something was wrong. He cupped my face in his hands, staring into my eyes for a long moment, his own expression growing grave. A moment later, he was on the phone with Mrs. Keller. “Mrs. Keller, Mia has been acting strangely since she came back. It seems like she doesn’t recognize people. What’s going on?” Mrs. Keller laughed on the other end. “Oh, that’s perfectly normal. She’s eighteen now, right in the middle of her rebellious phase. She’s likely upset that you sent her to me and is just pretending.” “Many of the children I work with do the same thing when they go home. It’ll pass.” When he hung up, Michael’s frown had only deepened. He clearly wasn’t convinced. Before he could investigate further, the front door opened. A middle-aged couple wheeled in their luggage, their faces breaking into wide smiles when they saw me. “Mia’s home! Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” The woman rushed over and pulled me into a tight embrace. Another wave of pain shot through my head, but out of politeness, I didn’t push her away. They then proceeded to pepper me with questions, their affection overwhelming. I maintained a polite, distant smile throughout. By the end of our conversation, their satisfaction with me was palpable. I had also figured out that they were my mother and father. At dinner, my father mentioned a gala in a few days and said he wanted to take me. Eliza pouted. “Uncle, Auntie, can’t I go?” My mother patted her shoulder reassuringly. “There’s only one extra ticket, dear. If we take Mia, we can’t take you. Be a good girl, Eliza.” Eliza remained sullen, barely touching her food for the rest of the meal. As dinner was ending, I tried to appease her. “There’s only one spot. Why don’t you go? Don’t be upset.” Her eyes lit up, but Michael immediately shut it down. “No. You are the Lucas heiress. Eliza is just Mrs. Keller’s daughter.” “Many influential people will be at this gala. It’s a crucial opportunity for you to network.” I had no choice but to nod. “Alright, I’ll go then.” Suddenly, Eliza threw down her chopsticks and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. Watching her second rude outburst, I couldn’t help but ask, “Is she really Mrs. Keller’s daughter? Why is she so ill-mannered?” My mother smiled and stroked my hair. “She’s not a Lucas. She won’t be moving in high society. She doesn’t need to be so disciplined.” “I see,” I said, a flicker of understanding dawning on me. That night, I lay awake in my old bedroom, unable to sleep. I felt a gaping hole in my heart, an unbearable emptiness. But I made no sound, just lay there quietly, clutching the blanket. I even held my bladder until morning. My parents were ecstatic. “Mrs. Keller is a miracle worker! Mia’s rambunctious nature is finally gone!” “Now we can finally entrust the company to her without worry.” A few days later, Michael took me to the gala. With my arm linked through his, I moved through the crowd with ease, chatting with entrepreneurs and meeting other young heirs and debutantes. Michael beamed with pride and eventually let me wander on my own. I was heading to the balcony for some fresh air when a hand grabbed my arm. A young woman stood before me, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “Mia Lucas, you don’t recognize me? I’ve been looking at you all night. Why haven’t you said hello?” I was stunned by her rudeness. “Who are you? Let go of me! This is highly improper!” “Hahaha—” The girl burst out laughing. “What are you talking about? You, talking about being proper?” “Weren’t you the one who slapped me over a dress three years ago? What’s this, a case of amnesia?” My mouth fell open. A nerve in my brain snapped taut. “Slapped you?” Before I could process it, she gave me a hard shove. I lost my balance and stumbled backward, crashing into a waiter. Red wine and broken glass showered over me. Amid the gasps of the onlookers, I struggled to my feet, trying to maintain my composure. The girl, Sophie, raised an eyebrow, watching me intently, as if waiting for me to retaliate. But I simply straightened my dress, my face cold. “I will not admit to something that never happened. But for assaulting me, I will be calling the police.” Just then, Michael rushed to my side. He took in my disheveled state, and his brow furrowed deeply. “What happened?” Sophie stomped her foot. “Michael, your sister has lost her mind! Three years ago, she hit me over a dress, and now she’s pretending she doesn’t know me!” Her voice was loud, drawing a crowd. “What’s going on? The Lucas and Chen families have been friends for generations. How could Mia not know Sophie?” “Exactly! Everyone knows she hit Sophie over that dress. I thought she had changed, but now she’s denying it…” All eyes were on me. The pressure was becoming unbearable. “I said I don’t know her!” I cried out, my voice trembling as I pulled out my phone to call the police. “That’s enough!” Michael grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the scene. “Michael, I really don’t know that girl,” I explained meekly on the way home. But he wouldn’t listen. The car stopped in front of a hospital. I looked at him, surprised. “We’re not going home?” Michael got out and reached for my hand. I flinched, my face paling with fear. He froze, his expression complicated, but his voice softened. “Mia, let’s get your head checked.” “I don’t want to. I’m scared…” I shook my head, pressing myself against the car door. Michael’s lips thinned into a hard line as he pulled me out of the car without another word. After a full battery of tests, his expression grew even darker. The results showed I was in perfect physical health. “So Mrs. Keller was right. You’ve been faking it all along!” He dragged me home and threw me onto the floor. “Mom, Dad, and I sent you to Mrs. Keller for your own good! Do you have any idea how much we’ve spent? Five million a year for tuition, not to mention supporting Eliza this whole time.” “Why can’t you be grateful instead of being so rebellious?” “Do you know how important tonight’s gala was? The impression you made is out there now. Do you have any idea what the other debutantes will be saying about you behind your back?” I cowered on the floor, trembling, my legs too weak to stand. He looked at me with bitter disappointment. “If you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to send you back to Mrs. Keller for another two years.” “No!” The moment the words left his mouth, I fell to my knees, banging my head on the floor. “Don’t send me back! I’ll be good! I’ll be obedient! Please don’t send me back! I won’t do it again!” Michael’s eyes widened in shock. He bent down to help me up. “What are you doing? Get up!” But I just kept bowing, ignoring his pleas, repeating over and over, “I’m sorry! Please don’t send me back!” His face was a mask of distress as he tried to pull me up. A sneer cut through the air from behind him. “My mother never abused you. Who are you putting on this pathetic show for?” Michael looked up at Eliza, and his hands slowly fell away from me. His voice was laced with disappointment. “If you want to kneel, then kneel.” He turned and went into his study. I remained on the floor, my movements robotic and numb. Eliza crouched down in front of me, a sinister smile on her face. “If you don’t want to be sent back, you’d better listen to me. When your parents get home, you’re going to tell them to let me stay here forever.” “If you disobey, I’ll have my mother—ah!” Before she could finish, I lunged, my nails raking across her face. She and Mrs. Keller looked so much alike, so terrifyingly alike! Fear erupted from every pore, and I started screaming. “Shut up! Stop talking! Stop talking!” Michael burst out of the study and pulled Eliza behind him. She was clutching her bleeding face, shrieking. His eyes darkened, and he slapped me, the force of the blow snapping my head to the side. I froze, listening to his voice, cold as ice. “How dare you attack her? Go to the basement and reflect on what you’ve done! Don’t come out until you’ve learned your—” He stopped abruptly, a look of horror flashing across his face. Because the moment I heard the word “basement,” my body started to convulse, and then, I collapsed. “What are you pretending now?” he asked, his voice shaking. He nudged me with the toe of his shoe. When I didn’t respond, he quickly scooped me up from the floor. His hands were trembling. I had never seen him so lost. “Call an ambulance—” … When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital, surrounded by people. A doctor with a grave expression was removing a needle from the pressure point above my lip, scribbling notes in a chart. Michael’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice hoarse. “Doctor, why did my sister suddenly faint? I just had her examined. She’s perfectly healthy!” The doctor frowned. “The patient’s problem isn’t physical. It’s psychological.” “She has likely endured prolonged abuse. The trauma was so severe that her mind chose to forget.” He looked at the pale, horrified faces of my parents and brother and sighed. “If you want to know what your sister went through, the only way is through hypnosis.” “But, you need to be prepared…”

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