Category: English

The billionaire CEO’s brother just threw a card at me. “Five million. Leave my brother and be with me.” 0 I sat on the plush sofa in the luxurious estate, gazing at the man before me. He had deep-set eyes, handsome features, and an extraordinary aura. The unexpected bank card left me utterly bewildered. “Five minutes are up. What’s your decision?” The man across from me glanced at the million-dollar watch on his wrist, his intense eyes fixed on mine. This whole mess started three days ago. I was sitting in a high-end luxury car, facing a CEO worth hundreds of millions. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, not a single cheap item on him. He looked every bit the successful businessman. But the moment he spoke, he sounded like every cringey, old-school romance novel CEO combined: “Man, you’re playing with fire.” My toes curled so hard, I swear they were trying to dig a tunnel straight to the core of the earth. After rejecting him for the hundred-and-fifth time, I finally gave in. That’s because I found out his brother was Julian Thorne—the very man I’d once glimpsed and couldn’t stop thinking about. He was my long-standing crush. Then, Leo took me home, and I became his ‘fake’ boyfriend, just to deal with his family. And the powerful man in front of me was my ‘boyfriend’s’ brother, Julian Thorne. My silence made Julian’s brows furrow. “If two million a month isn’t enough for your allowance, I can add another two million.” The man casually dropped another shocking number, just like that. What he said next, however, was surprisingly respectful and comforting. “We’ll be in a normal relationship, not a sugar daddy situation. You’ll have plenty of personal space. Work if you want, or don’t work at all; I can take care of you.” Every word Julian said was like a temptation, and they crashed down on me, one after another. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne, but I’m already your brother’s boyfriend. Please don’t overstep.” At my words, his eyes turned cold, and the air around us seemed to drop several degrees. “I told you, you’re breaking up with him.” His sudden oppressive aura startled me, but I quickly regained my composure. “I won’t break up with Leo. We’re even planning to get married in the future. I hope you can give us your blessing, Julian.” My polite, yet distant smile seemed to sting his eyes. A vein throbbed on his forehead, as if he was holding something back. I nervously swallowed. Just then, the front door clicked open. It was Leo returning. “Ugh, I’m boiling! What kind of crazy weather is this? Is it trying to steam people alive?” I secretly let out a sigh of relief, smiling as I walked over to take his jacket. As soon as I took his blue casual jacket, Leo shivered. “Why is it so cold in here? What’s the AC set to?” Neither Julian nor I spoke. He looked between us, then put his jacket back on. “So, Julian, how was your chat with Cicada?” Cicada was my nickname. I was born in the summer, and cicadas always buzzed at night, so that’s how I got it. Julian raised an eyebrow. “Cicada?” Then he gave me a meaningful look. Before I could say anything, Leo, being the chatterbox he was, started rambling. “Yeah, Alex’s nickname is Cicada. Cute, right?” To show off how close and sweet we were, he even deliberately added ‘cute.’ He also gave me a loving glance. “Cicada and I had a great chat. She really likes having me as a brother.” 0

Besides me, Leo was clearly choked up by Julian’s use of “Cicada” too. But he just found it unusual. After all, calling someone by their nickname, a sign of intimacy, was something you’d *never* see his older brother do. Still, it only stumped him for a few seconds before he completely forgot about it, loudly demanding dinner, totally different from how he was when I first met him. Julian nodded, calling the housekeeper to bring the food to the dining table. We all went over and ate. At the table, Julian kept finding ways to talk to me, his gaze laced with ambiguous warmth. My actual ‘boyfriend,’ however, was completely oblivious, focused entirely on his rice. “Even though Leo isn’t young anymore, he’s always been spoiled by the family. He’s a bit childish, Cicada, so please be patient with him.” I understood his hint and replied politely, “There’s nothing to be patient about. I think he’s great just the way he is. I, for one, happen to like the ‘puppy-like’ type.” Julian picked up a piece of lean meat and put it in my bowl. He feigned ignorance about the meaning of “puppy-like.” “Puppies look cute, but they only know how to whine, act adorable, and play pathetic. They don’t offer the same sense of security as a ‘wolf-dog’ type.” “Large dog breeds can be handsome too, and they’re capable of protecting their owner.” The atmosphere between Julian and me at the dinner table was subtly charged, while Leo was in a completely different world. He quickly devoured the food in his bowl, then looked up at his brother and smiled. “You don’t get it, Julian. Cicada isn’t talking about actual dogs. It’s a type of person.” He wiped his mouth and continued, “Cute and easy to pity, that’s a ‘puppy-like’ type, like me. Overly dominant, full of security, and bossy, that’s a ‘wolf-dog’ type, like…” Leo scanned Julian up and down, not daring to finish his sentence. “Like Julian, for example,” I smoothly interjected. Leo looked at me approvingly, as if to say, “Bro, you’re awesome!”

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It was a Latin ballroom aerial spin, and my husband, my dance partner, didn’t catch me. I fell to the floor, leaving me completely paralyzed. Noah frantically slapped himself, claiming it was an accident, swearing he’d care for me for life. He tearfully claimed financial strain forced him to stop paying my medical bills, only to turn around and buy his ex-girlfriend a custom-made haute couture dance outfit. I lost the critical window for treatment and would be bedridden for life. I grieved for my broken body, when I accidentally overheard him on a call with his buddy: “Are you being too cruel to Aria?! You deliberately didn’t catch her just so Skylar could win the championship.” Noah was silent for a long moment. “I’ve wronged Aria, but I’ll take responsibility for her until the end! Even though she’s lost her legs and her dream, she has my complete love!” Staring at my life, a dark abyss, I slit my wrists. As my blood splattered, Noah, with red eyes, claimed he regretted it.

“Why are your eyes so red? Are your legs hurting again?” Noah’s voice, as always, was gentle when he hung up the phone. For a moment, I couldn’t tell which was the real him. “The dance troupe just called, they want me to go over.” The dance troupe? Weren’t you just mocking me with your buddy? I stared intently at him, trying to find a hint of a lie in his gaze. He awkwardly tilted his head. That’s his tell when he’s lying. “The dance troupe said they could lend me some money so I can pay for your treatment.” I scoffed. It was only a few days ago, when the nurse came to urge payment, that I found out many of my treatment fees were overdue. That’s why I couldn’t get physical therapy. When I asked Noah, he looked troubled. “Paying for your legs drained my savings, but don’t worry, I’ll cover the costs even if I have to take out a loan.” I kept waiting. Until yesterday, when the doctor gave me the devastating diagnosis: “Missed the optimal treatment window, regaining the ability to stand will be difficult.” That’s when I understood my life was over; I’d forever be a bird in a cage. “Okay, you go.” I lay down, not clinging to him for company as I usually did. Only after the hospital room door closed did I bury my face and weep. I sobbed myself into a daze until I fell asleep, only to be woken by the TV news. It was Skylar. She had just won another Latin dance competition, surrounded by reporters for interviews. I saw myself before I was paralyzed: I was always first in every major competition, surrounded by countless reporters, showered with congratulations. “Skylar, who do you want to thank most for winning this championship?” “My first love. Thank you for always being there for me, encouraging me, and even buying me my dance outfit!” “Oh, and it looks like it’s a specially customized haute couture outfit!!” “Oh, whether it’s haute couture or not isn’t important! But he’s truly wonderful to me! Oh, come on! Don’t be so nosy!” Skylar’s pretty face flushed slightly, and she happily glanced to the side. In the corner of the camera, there was a hint of a light blue sleeve. That was the color of Noah’s shirt today. I nervously squeezed my hands. What if it was just a coincidence? What if it was just the same brand? I called the dance troupe director. My heart pounded with each ring of the phone.

“Noah? He didn’t tell me he was coming over!” He abandoned my surgery to celebrate Skylar’s championship win. Even knowing what the outcome would be, I still desperately needed confirmation. I looked at Skylar’s dance outfit, glittering with diamonds and incredibly luxurious, and couldn’t help but run my hands over my numb legs. So, “tight on money” and “forced to delay treatment payments” were just your lies. I sniffled, trying to hold back tears. “Director, I’d like to see the video of the competition from the day I fell.” The director was surprised. Before, I had always resisted this, even talking about it would make me break down. I fast-forwarded to the part where I fell. I leaped into the air; Noah’s body swayed, and the hand that was supposed to catch me paused five centimeters away from my body. I fell heavily to the ground. Immediately after, there was his gasp of alarm and his frantic attempt to help me up. Anyone watching would only think it was an accident. But recalling Noah’s nonchalant tone on the phone, I felt his swaying body, his hesitating hand, were so deliberate. For Skylar, he made me paralyzed, ruined my life. But he was the one who ignited my dream. During college, I repeatedly hit roadblocks in Latin dance competitions and had poor results. I decided to give up dancing after one last performance. The music had just stopped when I heard applause. “I’m truly grateful that such an excellent dancer exists in this world, allowing me to witness such beautiful dancing!” His voice was filled with undisguised admiration. That was the first time I met Noah. Two strangers who knew nothing of each other: one venting about future uncertainties; the other encouraging me not to give up my dream. I put on my dance shoes again, and after graduation, I reunited with Noah. I was filled with joy, yet I was rejected by major dance competitions at the peak of my career. After much asking around, I learned I’d been blacklisted by Noah’s ex-girlfriend, Skylar. Unable to afford my mom’s surgery, and seeing the critical illness notice, I knelt before Skylar. She made no demands on me, not even the typical “leave Noah” drama you see in TV shows. She just gave me a faint glance, making me understand the vast chasm between us. Skylar showed mercy, but my mom still missed the optimal treatment window and passed away. I dared not blame anyone, only weep bitterly in the dead of night, clutching my mom’s clothes. After I got together with Noah, I once brought this up to him. He was silent for a long moment. “Skylar can be a bit willful, don’t take it to heart.” My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Could a simple “willful” cover up the crime of causing my mother’s death? Noah irritably tugged at his tie. “So what do you want me to do? Hold her accountable for something irreversible?” “You can’t blame Skylar for this; it’s purely because you, as her daughter, were incompetent, which led to your mother’s untreatable death!” I was incompetent? I won every competition I entered! But I didn’t dare talk back. Afraid my peaceful life would be ruined by Skylar again.

I watched the video again and again until Noah returned. He walked over, and seeing me watching the competition video, a flicker of unease crossed his face. “Don’t watch these, it’ll just upset you, and I’ll feel terrible.” His face was full of tenderness, but my heart was filled with mockery. “Didn’t you orchestrate this? Weren’t you behind all of this?” The words were barely out of my mouth when Noah, seemingly hurt by my attitude, his voice turned sharp. “What are you talking about? Aria, I’ve cared for you with all my heart since your accident, and this is how you see me?” “If it weren’t for me, with your leg broken this morning, your gambling addict father would have already abandoned you for dead, perhaps even selling your remains to cover his debts!” The more he spoke, the more genuine he sounded, wearing an expression that said, “How could you be so unreasonable?” “Wasn’t it for Skylar?” My voice was icy. “I…” The color drained from Noah’s face, and all the words he was about to say caught in his throat. “It’s not what you think.” After a long moment, Noah spoke, his voice dry. “When I gave her up back then, I wronged her.” “That’s *your* wronging of her, what does that have to do with me? Why should my legs be the price of your compensation to her? I’m not some mistress!” I was losing control. “Calm down! Look at it from another angle, it’s not all bad.” “I’ve repaid my debt to Skylar, and now I can fully devote myself to you, with no more ties to her.” “Even though you can’t walk anymore, you have *all* of me now!” I literally couldn’t believe my ears. “What’s so great about having a bastard like you?! I just want my body back!” After losing my legs, the brokenness of my body wore away all my strength. I couldn’t calmly love anyone anymore. Noah’s eyes instantly turned cold. “Looks like you haven’t realized you’ll be living off my charity for the rest of your life.” Soon, I understood the meaning of Noah’s words. I wanted a drink of water, but my wheelchair got stuck on the rug. “You stay here and reflect. Think about what kind of attitude you should have toward me from now on.” Noah slammed the door shut and left, a smug look on his face. I felt my mouth go dry, staring at the water glass just within reach. The thirst gradually morphed into a searing pain that scorched my soul. I don’t know how much time passed, when an uncontrollable urge to urinate swept over me. My catheter needed changing. Usually, Noah would change it for me at this time. I bit my lip tightly, furiously pressing the wheelchair’s control lever. The wheelchair shook violently, and I tumbled to the floor. I didn’t even care about the pain. I quickly crawled toward the bathroom. I desperately tried to arch my body, but still couldn’t resist my body’s needs. A warm sensation soaked my pants. I clenched my fists, wishing I could just die right there. The uncontrollable humiliation shattered my self-esteem far more than any verbal abuse. Not until the next morning, when the caregiver arrived. The caregiver lifted me onto the bed, deftly pulling off my pants, then unceremoniously wiping between my legs with a towel. I was turned over and over by her hands, like a dead pig waiting to be butchered. She looked disgustedly at the soiled items in her hand, constantly complaining, “It stinks! Can’t even control her own piss and crap.” “If I were you, I’d just die! Living is just wasting air and food.” I was shaking with rage, my teeth chattering. “This is your job, my husband pays you handsomely…” Before I could finish, the caregiver shoved my soiled pants into my mouth. The foul smell assaulted my nostrils, making me feel faint. “Shut up! Still making trouble even in this state! Mr. Noah is just taking pity on you, giving you a meal, just like he’d feed a stray dog on the street!” “For a rich man like Mr. Noah, money is just a number. His most precious asset is time, and his time is spent on…” The caregiver sneered, not finishing her sentence. But I understood what she meant. Half an hour ago, the dance troupe’s official SnapChat account posted some photos. Noah and Skylar embracing and dancing on a grand stage, with all eyes focused on them. That was something I could never achieve again in this lifetime. Why were my life and love so painful? I slit my wrist. As my blood stained the floor, I couldn’t help but wickedly wonder what Noah’s reaction would be. Sadness? Maybe he’d feel relieved to get rid of this burden! I thought death was the end, but surprisingly, my soul floated beside my body. My colleagues from the dance troupe were the first to come see me. “Oh my God, how could Aria be so desperate!”

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Dr. Alex Reed turned, his face flushed a deep crimson, and he looked at me, a soft plea in his eyes: “I’m not… quite sure how to use this… Is this right? Could you… could you help me with it?” A smirk played on my lips, my eyes darkening. My voice came out a low rasp, “Didn’t realize you were so… *adventurous*, Dr. Reed.” I was inspecting my bar as usual when I spotted a man at the counter, completely wasted. I sighed. I walked up to him, grabbing his collar, feeling a surge of irritation. “Why are *you* always here, getting hammered?” But then I actually looked at him, and my grip loosened. I swallowed, feeling a pang of apology. “My bad. I totally mistook you for someone else. Hi, I’m Noah Hayes, the owner of this bar.” The man squinted at me, his voice soft and slurred. “Hi. I’m Alex Reed.” *Ding-dong.* Alex’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it, swaying precariously, then stumbled out. I picked up the business card he’d dropped on the floor. The bartender came out from the back, looking a little troubled when he saw me. “Mr. Hayes, that customer… he didn’t pay his tab.” I just brushed a speck of dust from the card, a strange glint in my eyes. “Put Dr. Reed’s tab on my account.” I got a call and rushed to the hospital. My heart sank when I saw my father lying in the hospital bed. I stayed there all night. In the morning, the doctor who came to check on my father arrived. I stood up, and my gaze shot up, landing on a familiar face. I was surprised, but also a little pleased. It was the man I’d met last night. Dr. Reed looked at me, explaining the situation. “Dr. Miller, your father’s attending physician, has been transferred. I’m Dr. Reed, and I’ll be taking over his care now.” I looked at the man before me, now dressed in a crisp white coat, which gave him a cool, detached aura. I nodded to Dr. Reed. “Then I’ll be relying on you, Dr. Reed. But you look a little familiar. I think I saw you at a bar last night. Were you there, Dr. Reed?”

Dr. Reed paused for a beat, then shook his head. I yawned, said goodbye to Dr. Reed, and headed home to sleep. I was soaking in the tub, twirling Dr. Reed’s business card between my fingers. The photo on it, a younger version of him in what looked like a prep school uniform, flashed a confident, slightly mischievous smile right at the camera. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alex. Reed.” The next morning, I bought breakfast and headed to the hospital. I ran into Dr. Reed on the way, so I walked up to him and offered him the food. He was a bit distant with me, but I didn’t give up, pestering him every day. He always maintained a cold, indifferent attitude. One day, I bought breakfast again, looking for Dr. Reed. I ran into Dr. Miller instead. Dr. Miller smiled. “Looking for Alex again, huh? Alex isn’t on duty today. He should be resting at home.” I asked Dr. Miller for Dr. Reed’s home address. I reached an old, rundown apartment building, the narrow street reeking of… everything. I frowned, pinching my nose slightly. I knocked on Dr. Reed’s door for what felt like ages, but no one answered. So I just… kicked it in. Inside, I found him lying on a small, worn cot, covered in bruises and cuts. I had no choice but to carry Alex back to my place and call a private doctor. Seeing him so battered, a wave of pain washed over me. I went out to the balcony to clear my head. The weak figure on my bed slowly opened his eyes. I looked at him. “I’m awake?” Alex looked at me, his voice hoarse. “Where is this? How did I get here?” I sighed dramatically. “This is my place. I carried you here. Seriously, you’re so damn light. I’m not short, but picking you up felt like nothing. Like I barely used any strength at all.” Alex started to get up, ready to leave. I stopped him. “It’s already evening. Stay for dinner before you go. Don’t tell me you’re not hungry?”

Alex froze, but then followed me into the kitchen. I served him a bowl of porridge and some pasta. He sat stiffly, a little uncomfortable. I glanced at him. “Relax. I made it for both of us, and it’s not *that* bad.” Alex ate slowly. I watched him finish, then cleaned up. I couldn’t resist asking him, “Where did those injuries come from? If you don’t want to talk about it, then…” Dr. Reed cut me off, his voice flat. “Thank you for your hospitality. I know what you’re trying to do, but please, stop bothering me. You’re… a nuisance.” I froze, disbelief washing over me. Alex turned and left. I watched his retreating back, lost in thought. The next morning, I went to the hospital as usual, but instead of seeking out Dr. Reed, I headed straight for my father’s room. The door opened, and I looked up, surprised to see Dr. Miller, not Alex. Dr. Miller seemed to read my mind, offering casually, “Oh, Alex was transferred back to internal medicine. I’ll be handling your father’s case from now on.” I nodded absently, then, as if drawn by an unseen force, found myself at the bar. The moment I walked in, I saw Dr. Reed, his arm around another man. My gaze sharpened, my eyes darkening as I fixed on them. I didn’t know why, but a wave of irritation washed over me. I went to drink alone, getting a little buzzed. Then a hand snatched the glass from mine. I spun around, my gaze locking on Caleb Hayes. My irritation flared. “What are *you* doing here? What, aren’t you going to go find your ‘friend’ anymore?” Caleb seemed slightly embarrassed by my words. Then, without a word, he slid his hand beneath my shirt, his fingers trailing across my skin. I’d just been drinking, and his touch instantly set me on edge, a low hum of arousal stirring deep inside me.

I grabbed Caleb’s hand, my eyes narrowing, piercing him with a cold stare. “Stop it. Just stop touching me. I told you I’m not interested. So stay away from me.” Caleb immediately deflated. I glanced at the empty seat next to him, my face cold, and drank until midnight, finally stumbling home and collapsing into bed. My phone on the nightstand wouldn’t stop ringing, but I ignored it. When I finally woke up, I saw Alex Reed’s face hovering over mine. It took me a moment to realize I was in my own house. Seeing him there was unbelievable. I spoke calmly. “What are you doing at my place?” Alex placed a freshly made breakfast in front of me, taking his time. “Your father’s condition suddenly worsened yesterday, and I called you, but you didn’t answer. So I had no choice but to come find you. Your father’s condition is stable now.” I nodded in thanks. Alex left, and after resting for a while, I headed to the bar. Passing through a small alley, I heard a familiar voice. I stopped and walked into the alley. I saw Alex, someone grabbing his hair and slamming his head against the wall. I lunged forward, beating the guy senseless. The thug was furious. “Who the hell are you?! How dare you interfere!” I looked at the bruises on Alex’s face, my eyes darkening dangerously. I turned to the thug, my voice cold. “Did *you* do that to him? What right did you have?” The guy spat, a sneer twisting his lips. “Yeah, I hit him. That lowlife owes me loan shark money. I’m his creditor. Why *can’t* I hit him?” I let out a cold laugh, then unleashed a flurry of blows right to *his* face. The thug reeled back, blood gushing. It was only when Alex grabbed my arm, pulling me back, that I finally stopped. I pulled a card from my wallet and flung it at the guy, a sneer on my face. “This covers his debt and *your* medical bills. Don’t let me ever see you again.”

I carried Alex back to my place. I cleaned his wounds, my face remaining impassive the entire time. Alex, carefully, almost whispered, “Thank you. I… I’ll pay you back.” After I finished applying the ointment, I turned and went out onto the balcony for some air, ignoring Alex completely. He looked a little awkward, wanting to leave. I saw his hesitation, my voice flat. “I doubt you can even go back to your place right now. So, you want to sleep on the street?” Alex stopped, then finally conceded. I went to the bathroom to shower. Seeing the photos hanging on the wall only fueled the anger churning inside me. After my shower, I found Alex sitting on the couch. I walked up to him, pushing him down onto the cushions, fighting to control the rage in my heart. “Alex Reed, do you think you’re some kind of martyr? Letting yourself get beaten like that without fighting back, playing the saint? And then you’re canoodling with other men? Bravo, really. Just *bravo*.” Alex avoided my gaze, still unresponsive. I stared at him, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “Fine, fine. Good for you.” I roughly twisted Alex’s face towards me, my mouth crashing down on his. I bit hard, and he let out a muffled gasp. I seized the opening, my tongue plunging in, tangling with his like a furious storm. He pushed back, but I slammed his hands against the couch, pinning him. My hands, no longer innocent, roamed freely over his body. His fresh-from-the-shower scent, combined with the raw hunger inside me, ignited a desperate heat that burned through every inch of my skin. That night, reason crumbled, utterly consumed by a raging inferno of desire. The next morning, I woke up to find the spot beside me empty. I’d gotten up early on purpose, heading to the hospital to find Alex.

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At the party, my asthma flared up. I fumbled for my emergency inhaler. But the bottle was empty. My boyfriend, Liam, casually explained, “Chloe said her throat was dry, so I gave her your inhaler. Just take some throat lozenges; they’ll help too.” My breathing was already getting harder, each breath a struggle. “If her throat’s dry, why can’t she just drink water? You guys are trying to kill me!” He frowned, clearly annoyed. “Can you stop being so dramatic? You always act so delicate, like you’re made of glass.” “Chloe’s right, you’re just being extra.” I stopped arguing, sending a frantic message to my mom: “My asthma is flaring up, but Liam gave my inhaler to Chloe.” Liam saw the message and just shrugged it off. “Here you go again with this? Always running to your mom, are you in elementary school?” He snatched my phone, holding it high above his head, looking down at me with contempt. I tried to grab it back. The moment I stood up, my vision blurred, and I stumbled back onto the couch. “My asthma’s really bad, please help me,” I gasped, desperate. Just then, Chloe strolled over, still flaunting my inhaler in her hand. “Oh my, Princess Scarlett, are you *really* feeling bad? Or are you just trying to get attention?” “Ugh, I told you guys, women shouldn’t be at our guy’s nights. They’re always so whiny and just stir up drama, trying to compete with each other.” I fought for air, my eyes fixed on Chloe. She was Liam’s childhood best friend. She’d always been super chummy with guys, treating them like her brothers. Liam had mentioned Chloe more than once to me. He always said she was a real ‘one of the guys.’ At first, I actually had a good impression of the easygoing ‘female buddy’ Liam described. After our relationship became stable, Liam introduced me to his friend group. Chloe always went out of her way to act like a huge supporter of women. “Oh my god, Liam, you have such good taste, where did you find this princess?” “Swoon! Girls stick together, let’s ditch these smelly guys.” But deep down, I always sensed a hint of malice in Chloe’s eyes when she looked at me. Her methods were subtle, almost brilliant. She’d preach ‘girl power’ but then deliberately ignore me in her actions. For example, she’d constantly bring up their childhood memories at parties. I’d have nothing to contribute, so I’d just sit there silently. Then, she’d suddenly turn to me, all casual and friendly. “What’s wrong, Princess? You’re not mad because I’m talking to Liam, are you?” I’d mentioned to Liam that it made me uncomfortable. But he’d always just say I was being petty. He claimed Chloe was just trying to liven things up and that I was too sensitive. Now, though, Chloe’s malice was completely undisguised. “Princesses are just princesses, aren’t they? Are you upset we’re not all fawning over you, so you’re faking being sick?” The guys around us snickered, a wave of mockery washing over me. “I’m really not feeling well, give me the inhaler!” I raised my voice, a desperate plea. My sudden outburst made the room go silent for a second. Then, the mockery erupted even louder. Chloe draped her arm over Liam’s shoulder. She watched me gasp for breath, doubling over with laughter. “Oh my, she’s really good at faking it, Liam! Are you actually feeling sorry for her?” The others joined in, egging Liam on. “Yeah, Liam, you’re not gonna be whipped after you get married, are you?” “Don’t disgrace us, man! The man’s the head of the house, if a woman disobeys, you gotta teach her a lesson!” Liam couldn’t handle that kind of challenge. He stiffened his neck, refusing to look at me. “Who’s feeling sorry for her? She needs to be taught a lesson, always looking for trouble.” I couldn’t breathe. I desperately tugged at Liam’s sleeve, gurgling sounds escaping my throat. “Help… me…” Seeing my state, Liam hesitated for a moment. But Chloe spoke again, her voice dismissive. “Alright, alright, Scarlett, we’re all just regular guys here, we don’t fall for the damsel-in-distress act.” Knowing it was useless to reason with them, I tried to leave the private room. But as soon as I pushed myself up, Chloe shoved me back down. “The party’s not over, why are you leaving? You’re disrespecting me!” Her grip was surprisingly strong. I wasn’t careful, and the back of my head slammed against the wall. *Thump!* My head spun even more. Before I could react. Chloe screamed first.

She covered her mouth, her voice overly dramatic. “Oh my god, you’re so manipulative!” “I barely touched you, and you actually hit your head against the wall just to frame me!” Hearing that, Liam’s gaze turned even more impatient. “Scarlett, that’s too far.” I bit my lip, trying to clear my head. “I have severe asthma. If you don’t want a death on your hands, stop this now.” My throat burned, every inhale felt like drawing in broken glass. Chloe, however, dangled the inhaler in front of my face, showing it off, then dramatically took a huge puff. “Can’t give it to you, my throat’s dry.” “And I gotta say, you get what you pay for, this thing feels great.” I struggled to lift my hand, trying to snatch it. She laughed, easily raising her hand to dodge me. “Nope, not giving it to you.” Furious, my vision blurred again. Liam stood there, arms crossed, watching. “Look at you, begging like that. Chloe’s just using it for a bit, don’t be so petty.” “Chloe even saw your medical report; you don’t have asthma. You just get a little short of breath sometimes.” I forced myself to stay calm. “Liam, you’ve seen me have an attack before, why would I lie to you?” Before Liam could answer, Chloe interjected. “To get attention, obviously. In this day and age, there are always those attention-seekers faking illnesses.” “Heh heh, Scarlett, are you like those online princesses who also claim to have depression?” At her words, Liam’s friends erupted into even louder laughter. Some of them whistled. “Liam, your girlfriend is so uptight, she’s not half as cool as Chloe.” “Yeah, you’re gonna have your hands full when you get married.” I was gasping for air, using my last bit of strength to reach for the inhaler in Chloe’s hand. But just as my fingertips brushed it, she quickly pulled her hand back. I lost my balance and tumbled onto the carpet. “Oh my, she’s really selling the act!” Chloe exclaimed dramatically. Then she crouched down, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Hehe, hurry up and die. You dying will make things perfect for me and Liam.” She stood up, deliberately raising her voice. “Scarlett, stop messing around, get up! Everyone’s waiting for you and Liam to take a toast together.” Liam felt a flicker of concern. He stepped forward and helped me up. “What’s wrong with you? Are you really not feeling well?” “Help… me…” I struggled to get the words out. My hand tightened around Liam’s wrist, only broken gasps escaping my throat. “In… inhaler…” Liam’s brows furrowed, and a hint of panic and struggle finally appeared in his eyes. He looked at Chloe. “Chloe, maybe just give it to her.” Chloe’s face instantly dropped. She stubbornly hid the inhaler behind her back, stamping her foot in frustration. “Liam, are you blind? She’s totally faking it! Have you forgotten how she used to throw her little tantrums?” Then, she suddenly turned to the others and yelled. “See? These drama queens always put on an act, and Liam totally falls for it!” The guys around them immediately chimed in. “Liam, Chloe and us grew up together, would she really try to hurt you?” “These princesses, they just love to cause trouble, you can’t spoil her.” Liam’s expression changed. His hand, which was holding me, loosened a little. I could feel him wavering. On one side was my agonizing pain, on the other, Chloe and his friends’ manipulation. “But… her face looks really pale…”

Liam looked worried, his gaze falling on my bloodless lips. Chloe suddenly slapped her own forehead with an “oops!” “Oh! I saw her go to the restroom earlier with a pad, she’s probably just having bad period cramps.” She said this, feigning concern for me. “Scarlett, if you’re just having cramps, why lie and say you’re having an asthma attack? You’re just unnecessarily worrying Liam!” Hearing her, Liam visibly relaxed. His eyes, when he looked at me, were filled with reproach. “You can’t pull stunts like that again, you almost scared me to death.” I didn’t have much strength left. Thankfully, I had taken preventive medicine before leaving the house. Otherwise, with all their delaying, I would have been dead by now. Chloe, hiding behind Liam, smirked at me provocatively. Then she pulled a small bottle from her bag. “Here, I have throat lozenges. Scarlett, isn’t your throat bothering you? Pop one in!” Without waiting for my consent, she shoved a throat lozenge into my mouth. The strong mint flavor rushed into my nasal passages, intensifying the burning sensation in my throat. I tried to spit it out. But she clamped her hand tightly around my jaw. “Swallow it! What’s wrong with you? You really are just faking this to get sympathy.” She only let go when I was choking and gagging, then turned to Liam. “See? She won’t even take it, what else could it be but an act?” Liam looked at me, then at the throat lozenge I had just spit out onto the floor. The flicker of panic in his eyes vanished, replaced entirely by irritation. He just thought I was overreacting, being dramatic for no reason. He sighed heavily, roughly pushing me onto the sofa. My back hit the armrest with a painful jolt, making me gasp. “Alright, let’s just drop it. Don’t ever do this again.” “No, I…” I tried to explain, but only guttural, gasping sounds came from my throat. Chloe patted Liam’s shoulder. “Come on, forget her, let’s go drink. If no one pays attention to her, she’ll be fine in a bit.” Liam nodded. As he walked away, he cast one last glance at me. His eyes held only impatience and annoyance, no worry at all. He was pulled away by Chloe towards the crowd, not forgetting to toss a final instruction. “Behave, don’t embarrass me anymore.” The surrounding group dispersed, joining Liam and Chloe to drink. I curled up in the corner, watching Liam and Chloe being egged on to take a toast together. “Come on, cheers, cheers!” “Don’t be a buzzkill, drink up!” “It’s just a game, your girlfriend won’t be that petty, right?” Through my blurred vision, I saw Liam glance at me from a distance, then wrap an arm around Chloe and kiss her… I felt the air being slowly drained from my lungs. I truly couldn’t breathe anymore. My phone lay on the floor where Liam had tossed it. But I didn’t even have the strength to crawl towards it. In despair, I suddenly remembered that last month I had put an asthma pill in my bag. I mustered my last ounce of strength, reaching out to feel around me. My heart leaped when my fingertips brushed against the chain of my bag. I desperately clawed at the chain, pulling it out, the leather rustling against the sofa. The bag was still open. I fumbled inside. A single pill rolled out, falling onto the carpet. That’s it! This was just an emergency slow-release pill. It wouldn’t work as fast as the inhaler, but it could buy me a little more time. I was practically in tears. But just as I stretched out my hand, and my fingertips were about to touch the pill—a high heel stomped down.

Right in front of my face, the heel repeatedly ground the pill into the carpet. It was Chloe. She smirked, looking down at me, her foot still grinding. “Oops, almost let you take your medicine.” My blood rushed to my head. “Get lost! I’ll kill you! My mom won’t let you get away with this!” The suffocating sensation overwhelmed me. After screaming that, I collapsed back onto the sofa, like a dying animal trapped in a cage. “Hehe, watching you rage so helplessly makes me so happy.” Chloe crouched down, poking my face with her long fingernails. “You deserve this, trying to steal what’s mine. Liam is *mine*. Even if I don’t want him, he’s certainly not for you.” With that, she forcefully grabbed my hair. “Alright, you can die now.” My scalp screamed in pain from the tugging. I tried to struggle. But I didn’t even have the strength to lift my hand. “I’m… Scarlett Vance—” Through my blurred vision, Chloe’s face was a distorted, grotesque mask. She cut me off. “Liam’s over there drinking.” She leaned closer to my ear, her voice sickly sweet. “He couldn’t care less about you. Do you think he’d be sad if you died right now?” I tried to bite her hand, but she easily dodged me. She stood up, patted my cheek, then yelled to Liam in the distance. “Liam, come look! Scarlett seems really mad!” Liam was called over by her. He looked at me, limp on the sofa, his brows furrowing even deeper. “What are you throwing a fit about now? It’s just period cramps, don’t act like you’re dying. Every woman gets cramps.” “I… I really have…” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Have asthma…” Liam’s gaze swept over my pale face, then to Chloe. Chloe shrugged helplessly, indicating she couldn’t do anything. Liam’s gaze settled on me, filled with utter disappointment. “Scarlett, I’m so sick of this. If you keep acting like this, we’re over.” With that, he turned sharply and walked away. Chloe scurried behind him, not forgetting to turn back and flash me a ‘V’ sign. I felt like my lungs were a leaky bellows, every breath a tearing pain. The snowflakes in my vision grew denser. Chloe’s face in the distance shimmered in the halo of light, appearing and disappearing, like a demon from hell. My eyelids felt incredibly heavy. Over there, a group of people were cheering around Chloe. In my peripheral vision, Liam and his good friends raised their glasses. Chloe pretended to be drunk and leaned into Liam’s arms; he didn’t push her away, instead, he tightened his arm around her waist. “Liam…” I called out, using every last bit of my strength. My voice was a mere whisper, barely audible. He inexplicably glanced back. Chloe immediately tiptoed and whispered something in his ear. He frowned, impatiently shaking his head. In that moment, the last shred of warmth in my heart turned to ice. I slowly closed my eyes. I regretted it so much. Why did I ever get involved with Liam? Liam was just a poor student from an ordinary family. My mother, on the other hand, was a billionaire entrepreneur. I was afraid Liam would feel insecure, so I never told him any of this. He always thought I was just slightly better off than him. Chloe walked back over. She crouched in front of me. “I heard you grew up in a single-parent household. If you die, your mom will cry her eyes out, won’t she?” “But it’s fine, Liam can go handle your funeral as the future son-in-law. Maybe your mom will be so soft-hearted, she’ll give all her family fortune to Liam…” Chloe was certainly dreaming big. But before she could finish, the private room door was suddenly thrown open. “Scarlett!” It was my mom’s voice. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Mom rushing towards me like a madwoman. “Scarlett!” The world before my eyes plunged into darkness.

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Every single day, I’d grab my binoculars and sneak a peek at my neighbor across the street. But lately, nightmares had been haunting me every night. So, I bought a security camera, desperate to find out what was causing them. What I found was totally unexpected: the scorching heat in the middle of the night, the fresh red marks on my neck in the morning, and my swollen lips in the mirror – they all came from *him*! He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower, towel-drying his damp hair. Through the window, I could make out his sharp, chiseled profile. His honey-toned skin practically glowed in the sunlight streaming through the pane, and the few water droplets still clinging to him stood out like tiny diamonds. My breath hitched, watching him through the binoculars. A blush crept up my ears. I had the binoculars propped on the windowsill, my right eye glued to the eyepiece. To avoid getting caught, I’d even pulled the curtains almost all the way closed. That should keep him from spotting me. After all, who’d ever think that in the shadows, a pair of eyes would be so intensely fixed on him? My gaze greedily swept up and down his body, drinking in his raw, masculine form. Seeing his oblivious expression, the thrill of secretly watching him peaked. My blood felt like it was boiling from the sheer rush, a dizzying pleasure washing over me. *Gulp*. I swallowed hard, my mind replaying the scene I’d just witnessed. After drying his hair, he picked up a bottle of water nearby. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and the water droplets that had lingered there began to slide. They traced a path down his sculpted collarbone, continued lower, leaving a shimmering wet trail across his perfectly defined abs. My eyes were locked on that single droplet, unmoving. Inside, I was silently cheering, so glad I’d splurged big time on these binoculars just for spying on him. The guy who sold it to me wasn’t kidding! I could see every single move he made across the way. Even… even the tiny water droplets rolling down his skin were crystal clear. After that droplet slid past his abs, it vanished, the view below completely hidden by the towel wrapped around his waist. The disappearing droplet, the still-wet trail – it somehow added a touch of something raw and tempting to his otherwise cool expression. I was a little bummed I couldn’t see more, but honestly, just getting to see Cole’s body like that made these binoculars worth every penny! Thinking this, I lowered the binoculars, rubbed my chin, and mumbled, “Honestly, I never would’ve thought Cole, a doctor, would have a body like that.” Yep, this definitely wasn’t my first time spying on Cole. But it was the first time I’d caught him fresh out of the shower. Before, he was always either glued to his laptop working or lifting weights. It was like his whole world revolved around work and working out. At first, I’d been so nervous watching him. But seeing his routine like that, my daily spying sessions just became a routine, like a daily check-in. Over time, I started feeling like I was Cole’s boss, and spying on him with binoculars was more like I was overseeing him. Just looking at Cole’s chiseled face, his totally bad-boy charm, who would’ve guessed his private life would be so… boring? But after seeing Cole’s body, I felt like all my hard work hadn’t been for nothing! I was practically humming with glee, just about to go back for another admiring look. The moment my eye touched the binoculars, I recoiled like a startled rabbit, then darted away from the window. *Huff, huff.* Pressed against the wall, my heart hammered like a drum. “Huff, huff. That scared me senseless!” “How could he… how could he have looked right at me?” I frowned, replaying the moment in my mind. When I’d pressed my eye to the binoculars, I hadn’t just seen Cole’s tempting body, but his gaze, too – a half-smile in his eyes. That look was aimed directly at me. I was certain I hadn’t imagined it. But then… “If he noticed, why didn’t he report me?” “Maybe… maybe I really did see wrong.” I murmured to myself, and the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became. If he’d caught me spying, I would’ve been reported by Cole and probably locked up by now. I wouldn’t be sitting here, perfectly safe. Perhaps that reason actually convinced me. I cautiously edged along the wall, peeking towards the window. “Where is he?” It had only been a few minutes, but when I looked again, the figure by the window was gone. Even without the binoculars, I could tell if someone that big was there or not. *Knock! Knock! Knock!* Just as I was wondering where he’d gone, the front door knocked. I froze, staring disbelievingly at the sound.

The sudden knocking, combined with Cole disappearing from his window. These two things happening back-to-back made me connect them instantly. I bit my lip, forcing down the surge of unease, and cautiously started walking toward the front door. I’d only taken a few steps when something clicked. I turned back, pulling the curtains completely shut to hide the binoculars near the window. Given my current state, that move probably screamed “guilty as charged.” *Knock! Knock! Knock!* The moment I’d hidden the binoculars, the knocking started again, louder this time. “No, it can’t be Cole. Our houses are a fair distance apart. Even if he saw me, he couldn’t have gotten here so fast.” After a few minutes, my heart, which had been pounding like a drum, slowly returned to normal. My sluggish thoughts started to make sense. Reason finally kicked in, calming my frantic mind. I realized that the person at my door wasn’t Cole. I hurried forward and opened the door. Standing there was a delivery guy in a black T-shirt, looking impatient. His expression softened a bit when he saw me. But after he scanned me up and down, his face turned a little weird. “You were home? Why didn’t anyone answer when I knocked?” “Oh, I’m so sorry! I was just tidying up.” I offered an apologetic smile, taking the package from his hand. Feeling his eyes on me, I silently pulled my sleep shirt up higher, covering the red mark on my neck. I thanked him, closed the door, and went back to my room with the package. I tore open the box; inside was a security camera system. I’d painstakingly picked this one out on Amazon: dual lenses, dual screens, and super long battery life. Setting up the monitor was simple. I had it assembled in no time. But where to put it? That was the tricky part. “Where can I place it to actually capture whoever’s appearing in my room at night?” *Is it really a person?* I thought of the nightmares I’d fallen into every night, the red marks on my neck when I woke up, and what I saw in the mirror. And in those nightmares, the broad hands that had run over my entire body, and the long, thin fingers that had stirred my mouth and tongue. My memories churned, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was just a nightmare, or if it was real. At first, I truly believed it was just a nightmare. After all, the next morning, I hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary.

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My awful old man was finally dead. As the family’s only son and heir, I was stoked to head home and claim what was mine. But then, the “little daddy” I’d always tormented suddenly locked me up, and even… *tormented* me back. My head felt hazy, the world around me flickering in and out of focus. I lay on the bed, trying to move my limbs, only to find my entire body immobile. A warm, soft hand grazed my forehead, but it wasn’t long before I drifted back to sleep. Before losing consciousness, I thought I heard someone call out, “Madam.” Madam? The first mistress of the mansion, my mother, had passed away sixteen years ago. The only one left who could be called that now was the second person my father brought home six years ago. My father’s partner – Lysander. A tickling sensation spread across the soles of my feet. My instinct was to curl my legs, but then I realized I was still completely unable to move. I struggled to open my eyes, only to see Lysander, a faint smile on his pale face, gazing at me under the dim yellow light. My inner calves were incredibly sensitive. I followed his hand downwards and found it was a man’s doing. “Lysander! What in hell are you doing?!” Lysander, who usually dressed in those soft, almost feminine robes, had completely changed. He was wearing a dark, tailored shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the same smooth, luminous skin. Facing my fury, Lysander remained utterly unconcerned. The smile on his face was warm yet distant, and the long, white feather he held in his hand showed no sign of stopping its teasing movement. I saw that my perfectly tailored suit had been replaced by a deep blue silk robe. With every stroke of Lysander’s hand, the robe’s long hem had slid all the way up my thighs. My wrists and ankles were cuffed, ropes connecting them, forcing my body open on the bed in a spread-eagle position, leaving me entirely at Lysander’s mercy. “What am I doing, Young Master? Is it really that unclear?” Lysander’s voice was as soft as ever, but his actions were anything but gentle. I could feel my most vulnerable parts being shamelessly kneaded by Lysander, giving me almost no time to resist. The surging desire swept away all my pride and dignity. Lysander swung himself onto the bed, straddling my waist, his legs spread. Through the open slit of his shirt, I could see the defined muscles beneath his dark trousers. “You insolent bastard!” My face flushed crimson with rage, humiliated to the point of nearly blacking out. Yet Lysander remained calm, watching me, until he mockingly stripped off my trousers. Lysander looked at my already pathetic state and finally let out a laugh. “My father and I, we were just two apex predators circling each other. We might snarl, but we never truly went for the kill—a kind of twisted respect among our own kind. I’ve had my eyes on you, Young Master, for a long, long time. Tonight… I intend to enjoy myself to the fullest.” As his words faded, I watched, horrified, as he removed my last line of defense. The iron cuffs on my ankles spread my legs wide, allowing Lysander to easily prepare me, and then, he pushed deep inside. My face went pale with pain. I gritted my teeth and snarled, “I’ll get you, just you wait!” Lysander lifted one of my legs, not pausing for a second at my threat. His laughter mingled with his ragged breaths, filling my ears. “I’m afraid,” Lysander whispered, “you won’t get the chance.”

The chandelier in my vision slowly blurred. I didn’t know when I passed out, but in my dreams, I remembered the first time I met Lysander. As the family’s sole heir, even though my relationship with my father was terrible, we always maintained a basic, polite facade. Yet, on the very night of my mother’s memorial, when that bastard father brazenly—even grandly—brought Lysander home, I lost my temper like never before. “Has my lust blinded me, or something? On a day like this, how dare he bring his paramour home?!” I was consumed by rage, smashing almost everything in sight. I wanted to lay my hands on my father, but the household staff weren’t just for show; they held me back. It ended with me smashing a vase over Lysander’s head, and me being restrained, taking two hard slaps from my father. After that, I never gave Lysander a moment’s peace. It was fine when I was studying abroad and didn’t see him, but whenever we met, I’d inevitably fly into a rage. After several such incidents, my unbearable father finally banished me abroad. But to his surprise, I went into overdrive, finishing my credits early and returning home two years ago. I brazenly insisted on living under the same roof as my father. From then on, I abandoned my old fits of rage and adopted slyer, more insidious tactics. I leveraged the fact that this “little daddy” wouldn’t dare provoke me while my father was weakening. So I became even more reckless. I’d splash him with cold or hot water, make him kneel before my mother’s portrait as ‘family discipline’ when my father wasn’t home, or deliberately cut back his food. I even dragged Lysander to parties, pointing out pretty young women. I remember pretending to be drunk, lifting Lysander’s chin, and challenging him, “How long will this face of mine keep the old man happy? Or rather… what if tonight, I managed to charm some heiress, marry her, and have kids? Where would that leave my standing in this house then?” I watched Lysander slowly raise his eyes. His gaze was filled with a knowing, mocking smile. It mirrored the look from last night. Then, Lysander, dressed in a proper, intellectual-looking shirt, was shamelessly violating me, who was stripped bare and bound. I could hear voices from the other side of the wall, but my mouth was stuffed with fabric, sealed tight with the leather belt he’d taken from my trousers last night.

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His innocent white socks, clinging to Noah’s ankles, stirred a mix of purity and raw desire within me. My grip tightened, almost unconsciously. Noah trembled all over. I traced the hollows of his lower back, then subtly twisted my hand, gently bringing him pleasure. *How many rounds does a demon go in a single night?* I retracted my fangs. Not enough… As a modern demon, setting up a makeshift booth on a university campus isn’t all that unusual, is it? I lit the incense, and the lamplight made my crystal ornaments glitter, but I felt no excitement. Not far away, a hesitant figure hovered. I knew exactly who it was. I put on a perfect smile, waiting for him to come consult me about his emotional problems. I wasn’t a hasty hunter. Too much eagerness would only scare off a simple little creature. “Senior… do you have a cigarette?” Noah’s clear eyes were like the purest emeralds. I looked down at his knees, flushed from exercise, and my throat tightened. I felt a sudden thirst. I lit a cigarette for him, and Noah choked a few times. I leaned closer, patting his back to help him recover. Handing Noah a bottle of water, I noticed how small his hands were in comparison. It seemed I could cup both of his in just one of mine. Noah drank the water too quickly. A few clear drops escaped his lips, tracing a path down his Adam’s apple. They continued their descent, dampening his shirt, turning the white fabric translucent. I felt even thirstier. “Senior, you must be tired.” Noah offered the water bottle back to me, and I emptied it in one gulp. Noah’s ears seemed to be turning red. I glanced at the bottle’s rim, then at Noah’s still-damp lips… “Ah, an indirect kiss.”

Noah was a good boy, voted by the girls in his major as the one they’d most want to sleep with. Maybe it wasn’t just girls who thought so. “Smoking is bad for your health. If you know that, why do you still do it?” Noah shrugged. He had no idea how adorable he was. “Maybe because smoking offers a brief reprieve from an insatiable craving,” I said, picking up a cigarette but not lighting it. Noah leaned in, sniffing curiously, then frowned and wrapped it in a tissue. “Senior… do you like someone?” I didn’t answer directly, just chuckled softly and lit an aromatherapy candle. “Always suppressing it, Senior must be in a lot of pain, right?” Noah lowered his head, then picked up a pen and paper from my stall. His slender, articulated fingers wrote beautiful characters on the white paper. The words on the paper were clean and elegant. I leaned my head slightly, reading what he’d written: “The Lost One awakens the Sealed Demon.” Perhaps… I had underestimated Noah.

“That’s not something a good student should be doing,” I said, starting to pack up my stall. “What should a good student be like?” Noah reached out, stopping my movements. I looked up, meeting his resolute gaze. He used the candle to light the piece of paper he’d written on. The flames roared, burning hot in my heart. The firelight reflected in his eyes. In that moment, Noah said, “Senior, let’s date…” I couldn’t refuse. I carefully packed away my tools, then smiled at Noah. “Alright, but first, let’s… hit the gym together.” So I gave Noah the address of my regular gym. Noah looked confused. He didn’t understand what dating had to do with working out. I leaned close to his ear. “With that body, I’d make you *pass out* from pleasure.” “Do you even know how many times a demon goes in a night?”

I was a demon hidden in the human world. A long time ago, I saved a little boy. It was the only good deed this demon had ever done. Time had brought us to this day. I wore a tight-fitting shirt, the lines of my muscles clearly visible even through the fabric. Noah’s steps faltered when he saw me. I pulled his hand. “Don’t worry, it’s just for exercise… nothing more.” He gathered his courage, brushed his hand over my arm, then with a surge of bravery, touched my abs, pulling my shirt up slightly. Across my stomach was a glaring, jagged scar. He tenderly touched the scar, pressing himself against me. My excitement soared. I looked down. Noah’s actions were far from innocent. For a split second, I wanted to grab Noah’s head and pull him down *there*, to use those soft lips to amuse myself… In the end, I just ruffled his hair. *Don’t rush… don’t rush…* My hand lingered in his smooth hair, unwilling to leave. I sensed the wetness. He was crying… “It’s an old wound,” I said. “I know.” Noah lowered his gaze. I suspected his wiped memories were returning. I started setting up the professional equipment, demonstrating a few movements for him. My muscles rippled subtly with each movement, an even more tantalizing sight beneath the black compression shirt. But Noah still seemed preoccupied. It wasn’t until I pulled him onto the exercise equipment. A few dozen minutes later, Noah was completely spent, lying motionless on the machine… His cheeks were flushed, his hair damp with sweat, his breathing uneven and ragged. His eyes, vacant with exhaustion, looked like someone who had just reached climax. “Senior… could you rub me down…” Noah was truly delicate. The moment my hand touched his skin, he began to moan. “Oh… ah…” I knew Noah didn’t mean it that way, but his voice made my wall of reason crumble. I massaged Noah’s thighs, my hand unwilling to leave his skin. Skin hunger? No, how could a demon suffer from such a human ailment? Noah suddenly lowered his voice, but the low groan at the end echoed in the empty room, reaching my keen ears. My hand, moving with a captivating current, kneaded Noah’s leg. I warned him,

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My wrists were cuffed, spread wide, shackled to opposite sides of the bed. My skin was a tapestry of purpling bruises and angry bite marks. Damien lay sprawled by the bed, lazily dragging on a cigarette. Then, with a practiced ease, he gripped my jaw, prying my mouth open before leaning in to kiss me. He watched my face flush crimson as I choked, a slow, dark smile spreading across his lips. “I told you,” he purred, “run again, and I’ll break your legs.” The dim lights of the bar cast a hazy glow over the counter, the air thick with the thumping bass of music and the roar of a hundred conversations. My phone buzzed relentlessly in my pocket, but I ignored it, letting the vibrations fade into the background noise. “Hey,” the girl in front of me chirped, pushing a glass across the bar. “This rum cocktail is on me. It’s the house special!” I took the glass, swirling the amber liquid idly. Through the ice, I caught a glimpse of her smile, a little too wide, a little too stiff. “You’re not drinking?” I asked. “Oh, I don’t really drink much myself,” she said, her forced smile still in place. “But since I dragged you out here, I had to treat you to something, right?” I didn’t reply. I just lowered my gaze, gently swirling the drink in my hand. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? It’s actually pretty good, you should just try a…” “Of course he won’t drink your poisoned little concoction.” A man in gold-rimmed glasses appeared out of nowhere, striding directly towards me. He smoothly plucked the glass from my hand. “Wh-what do you mean drugged? Why would I ever hurt him?” she stammered, her voice thin with panic. “Then drink it yourself.” Damien’s gaze was fixed on her terrified face as he thrust the glass back into her trembling hand. “I… I don’t drink,” she stammered, fumbling the glass. It crashed to the floor with a loud *smash*, shards scattering as she recoiled, eyes wide with fear. “Tsk. Such a golden opportunity, wasted,” Damien purred, his fingers pinching her cheek, a predatory smile on his face. “You’ll regret not drinking that glass later, I promise.” “Take her upstairs,” he ordered, his smile turning chillingly cold. “Make sure she gets a little… *treatment*. Let her know exactly what she threw away by crossing me.” “Damien,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. His head snapped towards me, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Instinctively, I lowered my gaze, avoiding his direct stare. “My dear brother, aren’t you going to be a good boy?” he purred, his fingers lightly tapping my cheek. “Why are you running around without your big brother’s permission?” He then plucked my phone from my pocket. “Remember to answer my calls on time from now on,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low growl. “And… you shouldn’t have called out to me just now, Julian.” I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me. “Don’t you want to stay and watch her apologize to you? Hmm?” Damien’s gaze burned into my back. “No,” I replied, not breaking my stride. I kept walking, only to be stopped by two hulking figures blocking my path. Damien slowly approached, slinging an arm around my shoulder, a chilling smile playing on his lips. “Come on, Julian. You’ve come all this way. Let’s have a drink and wait for the main event to begin.” In the main hall of the bar, men and women swayed and twisted to the pulsating music, while the bartender, bathed in a kaleidoscope of lights, expertly shook cocktails. From upstairs, muffled cries of distress echoed, the woman’s agony mingling with the crude laughter and lewd remarks of men, all barely contained behind a closed door. “Mmm, this drink is excellent,” Damien purred, his eyes fixed on me, a taunting smile playing on his lips. “Why aren’t you drinking, Julian? Big brother wouldn’t drug you like that *bad girl* did, would he?” His gaze, though, was chilling, like a viper ready to strike. I snatched the glass from the table and downed it in one gulp. “When can I leave?” I demanded, my voice tight with impatience. Damien glanced at his watch. “Hmm, just about time. Let’s go, Julian. Let’s see how our little friend is doing.” The door swung open, revealing Chloe. The girl who had been smiling just moments ago now lay on the floor like a broken rag doll. Her clothes were torn, her body smeared with sickening red and white fluids. Her face was streaked with tears, hair a tangled mess, her lips swollen. Her pale skin was a canvas of purpling bruises. My hands instinctively clenched into fists, a movement Damien caught from the corner of his eye. “Tell me,” Damien said, sauntering over to a nearby couch and seating himself. “Who sent you?” His men forced Chloe to her knees before him. Her eyes were vacant, her mind clearly still reeling from the horrors she’d just endured. “Start talking,” he pressed, his voice dangerously soft. “And be detailed. Otherwise… your brother…” The mere mention of ‘brother’ seemed to shock Chloe back to life. She struggled, her voice raw and hoarse. “No… don’t hurt him!” “That depends on how cooperative you are,” Damien drawled, roughly slapping Chloe’s face. “How could you try to harm *my* brother, all for the sake of your own?” He leaned close to her ear, his voice a chilling whisper. “You’d better go explain yourself to Julian. Otherwise… I’ll just have to collect my dues from your dear brother instead.” At his words, Chloe’s eyes filled with raw terror. She scrambled, crawling on her hands and knees towards me, clutching at my pants leg, her voice a desperate plea. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you! After I saved you that day, a… a bunch of terrifying men came to my small shop. They looked like devils, and they… they threatened me with knives! They said if I didn’t do what they told me, they’d kill my little brother. He’s only eight, he doesn’t understand anything. He’s in the hospital right now, still recovering from a car accident. Please, please, just let him go! Please!” The girl sobbed uncontrollably. I knew, of course, that she had drugged my drink. That’s why I’d kept swirling the glass, never taking a sip. I’d even suspected she was acting under duress. But I had drastically underestimated Damien’s possessiveness. I’d foolishly thought he’d turn his fury on those who orchestrated this whole thing. I never imagined that monster would unleash his rage on the victim herself. “Can I leave now?” I asked, looking at Damien, who sat on the couch, watching the spectacle unfold with a detached amusement. “How do you want to handle her, Julian?” he asked. “Do whatever you want. I’m going home.” I turned to walk away. The men at the door moved to stop me, but Damien raised a hand, dismissing them. And just like that, I walked out. The moment I was out of sight, Damien’s smile vanished. He stood, walked to the back of the room, and pulled back the heavy curtains. His eyes were glued to my figure as I exited the bar and got into a car, watching until I was completely gone. “Chop off the hand she touched me with, then mince it up for the dogs,” Damien said, his voice devoid of emotion as he walked from the window back to Chloe. “After that, make her swallow the rest of that poison she had for Julian, and dump her in front of the Sterling Syndicate’s factory. After all, what goes around, comes around, right?” “I… I understand now… Please… don’t!” Chloe whimpered, tears streaming down her face. “How about your brother takes your place then?” Damien suggested, his eyes cold as he watched the girl’s ashen face. “He’s a vegetable anyway, could die at any moment. Isn’t trading his life for yours a pretty good deal?” “N-no… you can’t!” Chloe wailed, fresh tears streaming down her face. She had practically raised her little brother. He was so smart and sweet. The car accident happened when he was just trying to help her by picking up groceries. Some reckless driver ran a red light, hit him, and fled. She’d borrowed money from everyone she knew, just to cover his medical bills and barely keep him alive. Even though he was in a vegetative state, as long as there was a flicker of hope, she’d never give up on him. Her own life was already ruined, but what would happen to her brother if she was gone? Chloe was dragged out, silenced. “Hmph, a truly devoted sister,” Damien scoffed, a dark amusement in his voice. “Go ahead and cover her brother’s ongoing medical expenses.” “Yes, Master Damien,” his subordinate replied.

“From now on, I don’t want you going out at night, alright?” Damien said, his gaze fixed on me as I sat on the couch, a flicker of disturbing obsession in his eyes. “I’m a person, not a pet,” I retorted, not even bothering to look up from the newspaper in my hands. “How can you say that about yourself?” he murmured, crossing the room and settling beside me, his arm snaking around my shoulders. “I’m just worried you’ll get hurt out there. Look, someone tried to drug you today.” He paused, squeezing my shoulder. “So, don’t make big brother worry, alright?” His words were soft, but laced with a chilling undercurrent of threat. ‘Brother?’ I scoffed internally. He was nothing more than a rabid dog. Ever since Father died, Damien – the one Father brought home and who’d always harbored a strange, possessive obsession with me – had grown progressively worse. I had to escape, and fast.

Damien’s hand tightened around mine, his eyes gleaming with a possessive affection, as if I were a precious pet cradled in his arms. “Kill him.” His voice was still soft, almost tender, utterly detached from the chilling command he’d just uttered. He shifted his gaze to the man tied to the target post opposite us, his eyes filled with sheer disgust. The man’s eyes, wide with rage and despair, were fixed on us. His mouth was tightly taped shut, allowing only muffled whimpers to escape. “Why?” I asked, my voice flat, my eyes lowered. “Hmm, let me think,” Damien mused, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “His reason for dying. Is it because he betrayed me, or tried to kill you, or… is it simply because… he wanted to take you away?” My hand, gripping the gun, tightened. Did he know? No… that was impossible. This plan was a last-minute decision, even I’d only found out recently. It was just bad luck that Damien had stumbled upon us. How could he possibly know…? Looking at the man before me, tortured beyond recognition, I couldn’t stop trembling. It felt like I was back years ago, witnessing Damien pour scalding hot oil over someone’s face. This man was always ruthless. If he knew that I hadn’t been forcibly taken during the raid, but had actively gone along, looking for an opportunity to escape… my legs would surely be broken. “Let him go,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. But the hand holding the gun wouldn’t stop trembling, a tremor so slight it was almost imperceptible, yet Damien’s sharp eyes caught it. Even though killing the man would be the safest option for me now, I couldn’t bring myself to murder someone who had done me no wrong. “Alright,” Damien purred. He released my hand, then curled an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “And my dear… what will you give me in return?” His voice dripped with his usual possessive affection, but a coldness deep within his eyes, like a viper fixated on its prey, went unseen by me, nestled in his embrace. “I won’t leave this place,” I stated. I turned my head, looking directly into his eyes. They were alight with a fierce blend of love, lust, and possessiveness, so intense it seemed to spill out. I knew he must be furious. Ever since I’d tried to break free from him, only to be knocked out and dragged back, I hadn’t stepped outside this mansion. No matter what I tried, nothing worked. I’d even attempted to provoke him, deliberately ignoring him and chatting happily with one of the maids. The result? Damien’s face darkened, and right in front of me, he poured scalding hot oil over the poor woman’s face. He then… He used a leather belt to bind my wrists, then threw me onto the bed. “If you won’t talk to me off the bed,” he snarled, “then we’ll talk *on* it.” He didn’t stop until I passed out. I was bedridden for three days after that. Now, the sight of a belt sends shivers down my spine.

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When I performed the pre-marital health screening for my best friend, Chloe, she tested positive for HIV. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she begged me not to tell her boyfriend, Derek: “Stella, please don’t tell him. I love him so much. He’s the one for me. If he knows, he’ll never marry me.” Bound by my professional duty, I strongly advised her to inform him herself. She swore up and down that she would. In the medical recommendation section of the report, I wrote: [Marriage deferred / Not advisable for procreation]. A month later, Derek, leading eighteen other men, stormed into my office, furious. They hacked at me twenty-eight times. Every single blow was meant to kill. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe standing by the door, a look of pure schadenfreude on her face. “Serves you right!” she sneered. Even after I died, their rage wasn’t sated. They didn’t even leave a complete body. They stuffed my dismembered remains into black garbage bags and dumped them in the city’s grimiest corners. Reborn, I found myself back at the moment Chloe and Derek came for their pre-marital health screening. Again, I wrote “Marriage deferred / Not advisable for procreation.” I closed my eyes, hiding the hatred boiling within, and swore to make every single one of them pay in blood. 0

“Stella, Derek and I are getting our marriage license today, so we’re here for our pre-marital check-up.” Sitting at my desk, I spun my pen, my mind a blank. I vividly remembered the sheer terror as Derek’s knife slashed towards my neck, the agonizing, soul-ripping pain when it tore through my chest. I was just pain. I couldn’t do anything else. The other eighteen men held me down, each taking a turn with their knives, butchering me like a slaughterhouse animal. Dark red blood splattered the walls, the floor a gruesome mosaic of minced flesh and limbs. A split second before my heart stopped, Derek hacked off my head and tossed it out the window. It bounced on the ground, and then, I felt nothing more. After my death, they still weren’t satisfied. They dismembered me further, stuffed me into black garbage bags, and tossed me into various sewers. I remembered their cruel, brutal faces with chilling clarity. “Stella! Stella Smith!” A familiar female voice dragged me out of the bloody, painful haze. I looked up to meet her worried eyes, catching a glimpse of Derek engrossed in his phone. The scene of them hacking me to pieces flashed before my eyes again. My nails dug into my palm, blood dripping onto the desk. The pain was less than a thousandth of what it felt like to be butchered alive. Seeing my ten fingers, perfectly intact. I was certain. I was reborn. “Stella, are you sick? You look so pale.” Chloe’s face was etched with concern as she reached out to touch my forehead. My body instinctively flinched away. *Screech!* My chair scraped across the floor, tipping backward. I crashed to the ground. “Stella, what’s wrong with you?” I swallowed the hatred churning in my gut, the words “Serves you right!” echoing in my mind. I couldn’t understand. I’d just written a medical report. How did *that* warrant such a fate? Ignoring her concern, I turned to ask my boss for leave. Seeing my pale face and cold sweat, clearly not faking it, my boss urged me to go to the hospital immediately. Just as I stepped out of the office, Chloe, who had been waiting by the door, grabbed my arm. Her fingertips dug into my flesh. I quickly yanked my arm away, keeping my head down, refusing to look at her. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from grabbing anything nearby and just ending her right there. Chloe stepped forward, trying to link arms with me again. “Stella, are you not feeling well?” I dodged her, catching a fleeting glimpse of a dark glint in her eyes. “Yeah, I need to go to the hospital first.” She reached for my hand again. I tried to shake her off. Having just reborn and now seeing those two demonic faces that terrified me. The sheer terror made me utterly powerless; I couldn’t get free. Chloe dragged me aside, looked around to ensure no one was watching, and then lowered her voice, scolding me. “Stella, what’s going on? I specifically arranged with Derek to come to *your* clinic for our check-up today because I knew you were working. How could you just leave?” My eyes widened in disbelief. We’d known each other since kindergarten, at three years old, inseparable until high school graduation. Even when we went to different cities for college, we called and Snapchatted every day. She’d had one breakup back then, and after it, she changed her Ins bio to “Sleep with all handsome men.” I worried she was falling apart, worried something bad would happen to her. I called every day to check on her, comforted her, told her jokes, hoping she’d get through it. Until one day, she said she was over the breakup. I was happy for her. Then her roommate told me to talk some sense into her, to tell her to value herself. That’s when I found out she’d started a “new boyfriend every week” routine. Later, she got bored and it turned into “one-night stands.” “Sleep with all handsome men” became her favorite motto. Ever since I learned about her countless one-night stands, both as a best friend and a doctor, I’d pleaded with her countless times. Not to change boyfriends so often, to always be safe, to always use protection. Every time, she promised she would. Then her roommate would send me a recording of her cursing me out in the dorm, saying I was nosy. Our childhood friendship gradually faded. Calls and Snapchats went from several a day, to once every two days, then once a week, and eventually, once a month. The last time we saw each other was six months ago. In my previous life, when she came for the check-up, I thought it was just a coincidence. I didn’t think much of it then. Now I understood. Chloe knew she had HIV all along. I stared intently into her eyes, not missing a single expression, and probed: “It’s just a check-up. If you’re healthy, what’s there to be afraid of?” 0Chloe rubbed her nose, a flicker of guilt in her eyes, and chuckled awkwardly: “Of course I’m healthy! What disease could I possibly have? You’re my absolute best friend, I just really, really wanted your blessing here.” I masked the raging hatred in my eyes, wanting to confirm my suspicions once more. “I already blessed you. If you’re healthy, it doesn’t matter who your check-up doctor is. I don’t feel well, I’m going to the hospital first.” This time, I would never put myself in danger again. She held onto my arm, a playful grin on her face. “Hehe! How can my health be more important than our wedding, right, Derek?” But I felt a deep malice in her words.

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Everyone in the city’s most powerful circles knew Julian Sterling was obsessed with my skin, pristine as moonlight. He even splurged a fortune to build a suspended crystal palace, just so he could sketch the most exquisite artworks on my body as dusk bled into night. He called me his greatest living masterpiece. But masterpieces, once touched by the mundane, become flawed. So, in the inferno that consumed his entire art gallery, he chose to salvage the cold canvases, leaving me to burn in the flames. As I lay dying on the frigid operating table, I heard his voice crystal clear, addressing the surgeon— “Be careful. Don’t ruin this skin.” “Seraphina is waiting to wear it.” They all believed I had turned to ash in that fire. But I came back. From the scorched earth, I rose again, a broken body reborn, and I came back for revenge. At the Sterling Corp’s charity gala, I saw my skin. It was on another woman. I wore an artistic veil, watching my ex-husband, Julian Sterling, with his new arm candy, Seraphina Hayes, as they stole the spotlight. Under the flashing lights, the skin on Seraphina’s back was flawless and luminous, so beautiful it was impossible to look away. It shimmered like pure moonlight, earning it the media’s nickname, “Moonlight Skin.” But it was mine. My gloved fingertips curled into a tight fist. The agonizing pain of being flayed alive three years ago felt like it was tearing through my nerves all over again. Julian basked in the admiring glances. He wrapped an arm around Seraphina, speaking in that familiar, overly sincere, utterly fake tone of his: “Many of you know my deceased wife, Stella Nova, once possessed the most perfect skin in the world.” I almost laughed out loud. Deceased wife? His gaze burned with feverish admiration as he caressed Seraphina’s back. “Now, medicine has allowed her to be reborn, in a different way.” The entire hall erupted in applause. They praised love, they praised technology, they praised a man’s devotion to his deceased wife. No one seemed to think it was utterly horrifying that a madman had flayed his wife and sewn her skin onto his mistress. The hatred churned in my gut. Just then, the host called out my new name. “Next, please welcome the rising entrepreneur, Ms. Blair Thorne, for her address!” It was my turn. I smoothed down my black gown and walked onto the stage. Each step of my heels was precise, firm, like I was treading on my enemies’ hearts. I took the microphone. My voice, hoarse from the fire, carried a strange, piercing quality through the speakers. “Hello everyone, I’m Blair Thorne.” My gaze swept over everyone, locking directly onto Seraphina. She seemed to squirm under my stare. “I’ve just returned to the country. I heard Mr. Sterling had acquired a truly exquisite treasure, and seeing it today, it certainly lives up to its reputation.” I paused, then smiled, changing my tone. “It’s just that I have a peculiar little hobby when it comes to collecting.” “I always believe that an object truly becomes art only when it’s placed in the right setting. If it’s placed in the wrong one…” I paused again, then spoke each word clearly, distinctly: “Then it’s just… trash… draped in human skin.” I watched with satisfaction as Seraphina’s face instantly drained of color. Only then did I turn my attention to Julian Sterling. His composure had shattered, and he was staring at me, utterly transfixed. I offered him a sweet smile. “Mr. Sterling, wouldn’t you agree?” The entire room fell silent. I glided off the stage, stepping over everyone’s stunned expressions. As I passed him, I leaned in, blowing a whisper into his ear, a sound only he could hear. “That gossamer silk is high-end.” “And frankly, not just any cheap imitation deserves to be wrapped in it.” I felt his body stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. With an even softer, more venomous voice, I delivered my blessing. “Julian Sterling, your new collection piece…” “Looks like it’s rotting already.” … The gala, naturally, ended in disarray. I, the madwoman who dared to publicly humiliate Julian Sterling, became the city’s hottest gossip. And Julian? He wasted no time trying to reclaim his dignity.

At my new brand “Phoenix Rising” launch event, he showed up conspicuously with Seraphina. Seraphina wore a backless gown, her “Moonlight Skin” on full display. The entire press corps’ flashbulbs seemed to gravitate towards them. What truly sickened me was the familiar scent clinging to her. ‘Moonlight Whispers’. It had been my proudest creation, a perfume I’d blended exclusively for Julian. Catalyzed by my body temperature, it released a unique, cool yet lingering base note. That scent was Stella Nova and Julian Sterling’s exclusive memory. Now, that memory was being brazenly sprayed by a crude impersonator. Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The look in his eyes as he gazed at Seraphina held infatuation, but also a fleeting hint of confusion. Because the scent was off. It was missing the most crucial ingredient. My body temperature. My soul. Seraphina, oblivious, clung to Julian’s arm and deliberately walked up to me, showing off. “Ms. Thorne, what a coincidence. Do you also like ‘Moonlight Whispers’?” “Julian says it’s the most beautiful scent he’s ever smelled.” I looked at her face, which was practically screaming provocation, and smiled. “Is that so?” “Yet, I always feel that fakes, no matter how good, never quite make the cut.” Soon, the launch officially began. I stood under the spotlight, holding a bottle of perfume, its dark liquid swirling within. “Thank you all for attending the Phoenix Rising launch event.” “Returning to ashes, then reborn.” My voice, a little raspy from the fire, was exceptionally clear through the microphone. “Today, I’m only introducing one product.” I raised the bottle in my hand and lightly pressed the sprayer into the air. “Its name is ‘Heart Ablaze’.” A strange fragrance instantly permeated the air. It wasn’t any kind of floral or woody scent. The top note was the scorching heat of a raging fire. The middle note was the icy coldness of betrayal piercing through bone. The base note was the scent of dead ashes, after everything had settled. “It was created to commemorate a lost love.” My gaze, dark and lingering, fell on Seraphina. “The top note is love, the middle note is betrayal, and the base note is ashes.” “What’s even more interesting is, it can awaken memories.” “It contains a special catalyst that can resonate in a magical way with certain ‘borrowed elements’.” As soon as the words left my lips, I aimed the perfume sprayer into the air and pressed it again. The fine, misty spray of perfume descended like a gentle rain, settling softly on everyone’s hair and shoulders. But the moment it touched Seraphina, a drastic change occurred! “Ah!” A piercing scream ripped through the venue. Seraphina’s flawless, luminous “Moonlight Skin” erupted in large, visible red rashes. It was as if countless invisible poisoned needles were brutally stabbing her. The imitation perfume on her, catalyzed by ‘Heart Ablaze’, transformed into a nauseating, putrid stench! The beautiful masterpiece, before everyone’s eyes, became a piece of rotting flesh! “It itches! It hurts so bad!” Seraphina shrieked in terror, frantically clawing at her back, instantly leaving streaks of blood. The entire hall erupted in chaos! Reporters’ flashlights flickered madly, capturing the horrifying scene. “Security! A doctor!” Julian Sterling’s face was ashen as he clutched a nearly hysterical Seraphina. Then he lunged onto the stage, grabbing my wrist with a force that threatened to crush my bones. Those eyes, once filled with false affection, now held only bloodshot terror. He stared at me, rigid. “What did you do?!” “Who… who exactly are you?!” Julian Sterling’s voice was tinged with a rare loss of control. I stood in the center of the stage, meeting his furious gaze, but offered no reply. Instead, I slowly, chillingly, offered him a cold, mysterious smile.

I turned and walked off the stage, crisp and decisive. My silence firmly hooked Julian Sterling’s sanity. And the real show had only just begun. After the launch event, I gave him a full three days to spiral. For those three days, the name “Blair Thorne” and her almost insane debut were the talk of the entire city’s elite. And the real lunatic, Julian Sterling, mobilized every connection he had, practically turning the city upside down to find me. But “Blair Thorne” seemed to have sprung from thin air, with no past, no traces. His punches landed in empty space, only fueling his deeper anxiety. Meanwhile, my second grand gift to him was quietly “blooming” in that lavish crystal villa. Seraphina was completely locked away by him. My private investigator told me that the best dermatologists in the city were sent to the villa, one after another, only to leave, one after another, at their wit’s end. The rashes were like a curse rooted in her flesh and blood; they didn’t subside but intensified. The catalyst in ‘Heart Ablaze’ specifically targeted the immune rejection of allogeneic transplanted skin. Medically, it’s called an “Accelerated Chronic Rejection Serum.” My little gift to Seraphina? She’d never get rid of it. Just as Julian Sterling’s patience and sanity were stretched to their limits. On the evening of the fourth day, I sent him a text: “Want answers? Meet me at our old spot.” Our old spot was the ruins of the burnt-down suspended art gallery. Three years ago, our love was buried there. Today, I would bury him there. The ruins were littered with broken steel beams, and the charred walls still bore the marks of the inferno from back then. Julian Sterling’s steps faltered slightly. He stopped about five meters in front of me, scrutinizing me warily. He hoarsely repeated the question from three days ago, but his tone now carried a hint of despair: “Who are you, really? Why are you hurting Seraphina?” I chuckled softly. “Hurting? Mr. Sterling, that’s an interesting way to put it. I merely let her experience firsthand what ‘rejection’ feels like.” “What are you talking about?!” “Don’t you, of all people, understand medicine? Don’t you know what the biggest risk of allogeneic transplantation is?” “It’s rejection, Julian Sterling.” His pupils constricted sharply. “You…” “What, did something click?” I took a step towards him, radiating the chill of hell. “Those things you said to the surgeon on the operating table three years ago, do you remember them?” Julian Sterling’s face completely lost its color. He trembled, taking a step back, as if he’d seen a ghost. “No… impossible, Stella is dead, I saw her with my own eyes…” “You saw her what?” I stood directly in front of him, slowly raising my hand. “Saw her burn to death? Or saw her flayed alive?” I lifted my hand, and my veil slipped. A face emerged, a tapestry of charred and newly formed flesh, crisscrossed with scars, like shattered porcelain forcibly reassembled. Some areas were newly pink, tender flesh, others were permanently carbonized, a disturbing yet shattered beauty. Julian Sterling froze. His eyes were wide, his Adam’s apple bobbed, his lips trembled, but no sound escaped him, as if his soul had been ripped from his body. “Well?” I gently caressed my disfigured cheek, my movements as tender as if I were touching a priceless artifact. “Between that perfect ‘Moonlight Skin’ and my ‘Shattered Porcelain’ reborn from fire, which one do you prefer?” I pointed towards the distant crystal villa, a cruel smile on my face. “One is my unique work of art; the other is a rotting fake.” “Mr. Sterling, the great collector, which do you choose?”

Julian Sterling finally managed to make a sound: “Ste…Stella…” “Wrong name,” I corrected him with a smile. “Now, I’m Blair Thorne. Stella Nova was burned to death by your and Seraphina Hayes’s own hands in that fire three years ago.” He instinctively reached out to me, wanting to touch my face, but his fingertips stopped an inch short in mid-air. Not because of its ugliness. But because that beauty, fractured to its extreme, once again ignited the twisted possessiveness deep within him. His eyes began to gleam, his breathing grew quick and shallow, and that familiar madness reignited in his pupils: “Even… even more perfect…” I watched the familiar, twisted fervor in his eyes and finally couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Julian Sterling, you truly are still that pervert.” “No, *this* is true art!” His voice held a sick fascination. “Stella, look, the marks the flames left on you are more perfect than any sculpture. This beauty, reborn from breakage, is practically God’s masterpiece!” I looked at his gleaming eyes, and a wave of nausea rolled in my stomach. He was starting again. Three years ago, he had looked at my skin the same way, with that collector’s appraisal. “Come back to me!” He stretched out his hand, his voice laced with commanding fervor. “I’ll make you a unique collection piece, grander than ever before!” “I’ll build a larger exhibition hall for you!” “Let the whole world come and admire this priceless treasure!” “Enough.” I took a step back, my voice as cold as a blade. Julian Sterling was unmoved; instead, he laughed with even greater abandon. “Are you still angry?” “That’s all in the past.” “Seraphina was just a replacement, a failed imitation.” “You are my true love, my most precious collection.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if being flayed was my honor. I pulled out my phone from my pocket and played an audio recording. Dr. Maxwell Vance’s clear voice echoed from the phone. “Object-induced Art Phobia is a rare psychological condition.” “Patients develop extreme fear of specific art pieces.” “This fear often stems from traumatic memories and can be activated through specific trigger words…” Julian Sterling frowned, scoffing. “Playing mind games.” “You think these psychology tricks can scare me?” I turned off the recording and said softly. “Are you sure?” Then, I spoke the hypnotic command phrase Dr. Maxwell Vance had carefully designed, word for word. “The operating table is on fire.” The effect was instantaneous. Julian Sterling’s body froze. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes wide with terror. “No… impossible…” He began to cough violently, clutching his head with both hands. “Scalpel… fire… fire everywhere…” I watched silently as he fell to his knees. Trembling uncontrollably. This once arrogant collector was now like a startled wild animal. “How do you like it, Mr. Sterling?” “Now do you know what fear feels like?” His eyes were filled with incomprehensible terror. His lips quivered, unable to form a word. I stood up, looking down at him. “This is just an appetizer.” “Every day from now on, you’ll live in this fear.” “The moment you see a scalpel, the moment you smell disinfectant.” “Even just hearing the word ‘surgery’.” “You’ll remember that fire.” “What… what did you do to me?” Julian Sterling barely managed to squeeze out the words, his voice utterly hoarse. “You tell me?”

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