Category: English

Fifteen years of being child-free by choice, and my husband has a secret son. More than one, it turns out. The other woman isn’t in a rush to get a ring. She’s played her cards perfectly. She knows I don’t have children, and in the eyes of the law, his children have a right to his inheritance. She doesn’t need to be his wife. Her kids will still inherit the empire my husband and I bled for, the one we spent half our lives building. I thought about this for a long time. If I divorce him, I can walk away with the majority of our assets, but what’s left would be more than enough for them to live on for generations. It would be letting them off too easy. If that’s the case, then bankruptcy it is. I’m on my own. As long as I don’t starve, I’ll be fine. Let’s just see how they manage to raise his precious children when the money runs out. 1 By the time I found out about my husband Trevor’s affair, his son was about to start preschool, and a second pregnancy was already in the works. The reason it took me so long to discover the truth is that not a single person in Trevor’s family is a decent human being. For years, they’ve all conspired to help him cover his tracks. The only reason I found out at all was because the other woman was pregnant again—this time, with twins—and Trevor accompanied her to a doctor’s appointment. Someone sent me a photo. An anonymous text from a number I didn’t recognize. It was a picture of Trevor walking into the maternity ward of a downtown hospital. When I saw it, I just stared at my phone for two full minutes. The anger was there, a hot coil in my stomach, but before it could spring, a cold, hard rationality clamped down on it. After all these years clawing my way up in the business world, I was long past the age of impulsive reactions. I wouldn’t confront him without knowing the full story. I paid a top-tier private investigator a small fortune. In just two days, every secret Trevor had hidden from me was laid bare. Four years ago, he had started seeing a recent college graduate. Three years ago, she gave birth to their son. And now, she was pregnant again. Twins. It suddenly made sense why Trevor’s mother had stopped her passive-aggressive nagging about grandchildren these past few years. I’d assumed she’d finally given up, accepting that we were getting older. The truth was, she already had the grandchild she so desperately wanted. 2 Once the affair was confirmed, I suppressed the volcano of rage inside me and didn’t say a word to Trevor. His infidelity was a fact. Screaming, crying, throwing things—none of it would change what he had done. What I needed to figure out now was how to maximize my own interests in the coming divorce. In the world of adults, self-interest has to come first. I found a quiet hotel bar downtown and spent the entire afternoon replaying the fifteen years of our marriage in my head. It was Trevor who had wanted to be child-free in the first place. I found it grimly ironic that he was the one to regret it. In the early years, when we were starting our company, we had nothing. No foundation, no connections. Even our families were less than supportive. To say we struggled would be an understatement. We ate, slept, and breathed that business, pouring every ounce of ourselves into it. And now, after all that sacrifice, the moment we could finally breathe, the first thing he does is find a younger woman to give him the children he told me he never wanted. The bitterness of it was like acid in my throat. I spent that afternoon on the phone with three different lawyers. The consensus was bleak. We never signed a prenuptial or postnuptial agreement. Even though Trevor was the one who cheated, forcing him to walk away with nothing would be nearly impossible unless he agreed to it. That path was a dead end. I needed another plan. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Trevor. He was asking why I wasn’t home yet. I glanced at the time. It was after ten. For the past few years, despite having a secret second family, he had maintained a flawless facade. Aside from the occasional late night for a “client dinner,” he was always home by ten. That was one of the main reasons I’d never suspected a thing. I’d forgotten a simple truth: a man who truly wants to cheat doesn’t need much time. By the time I got home, it was almost eleven. Trevor was on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. When he heard the door open, he looked up. For a man in his forties, he was in good shape—no gut, no bald spot. He had that mature, steady look that time can bestow. But I saw it. The flicker of his thumb as he instinctively locked his phone and placed it face down on the coffee table. It was a tiny detail I would have never noticed before. Now, it was magnified, glaring at me under a spotlight. Once suspicion takes root, every shadow looks like a monster. He walked over to me, his expression as normal as ever. He took my purse from my hand, his smile gentle. “Hey, you’re late. Long day?” For a second, I was stunned. How could a person do something so fundamentally destructive to a marriage and still not show a single flicker of guilt? For four, almost five years, he had hidden this from me. The man I shared a bed with had a mind so meticulous, so duplicitous, it made my teeth ache. He must have noticed my silence, because his expression shifted to one of concern. “What’s wrong?” I looked away, forcing myself to remain calm. I shook my head. “Nothing. Just tired.” After more than twenty years together, Trevor knew me too well. He could read the slightest shift in my posture, the smallest change in my tone. But the same was true for me. I knew this wasn’t an accident, him getting caught. It wasn’t a moment of carelessness. He was simply done hiding. Our company was stable, a well-oiled machine. I had weathered all the storms of our startup years with him, and now, someone else was ready to step in and enjoy the calm seas and sunny skies. On what grounds? I managed a few more noncommittal responses, careful not to betray any of the turmoil inside me. Trevor, likely still unaware of what I knew, acted completely normal, though his glances at his phone were a little too frequent. For a middle-aged couple, a quiet, predictable life can be a blessing. But some people can’t stand the quiet. A wave of raw impulse surged through me. I wanted to scream, to throw a lamp, to rake my nails across his handsome, lying face. I wanted to demand, hysterically, why he had betrayed me, betrayed us. For a fleeting, ugly moment, I even wanted to hurt him back in the same way, to have an affair of my own. And then, just as quickly, the wave receded, leaving me cold. The person I had been in that moment felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. Betrayal deserves punishment, but you don’t punish someone else by setting yourself on fire. Trevor was already rotten. I refused to become rotten too. 3 I knew I couldn’t keep up the charade for long, but moving assets takes time. A man who cheats is like a used tissue in a public restroom—disgusting and worthless. The two decades of shared history, the hardships we endured together… all of it became a sunk cost the moment I learned there was a third person in our marriage. And the sunk cost of my marriage to Trevor was devastatingly high. I was nowhere near as composed as I appeared. But the sharp, stabbing pain of the emotional impact was forcing me to become more and more rational. Trevor was a wreck. Our marriage was a wreck. But our company wasn’t. Not yet. Our lives were too deeply intertwined. Pulling one thread would unravel everything. This was far more complicated than simply filing for divorce. About two weeks after I learned the truth, Trevor finally noticed something was wrong. He stood in the doorway of my home office for a long time before finally asking, “Ava… what’s going on with you?” No matter how much I told myself to stay rational, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep next to him. Citing some minor, insignificant disagreement, I had banished him to the guest room for the past fifteen nights. My replies to his texts were clipped and perfunctory. He was a naturally suspicious man; he had probably already guessed the reason for my coldness. But since I hadn’t made a scene, hadn’t screamed at him or gone after the other woman, he couldn’t bring himself to ask the question directly. I rubbed my temples, trying to soothe a dull ache. I decided to go on the offensive. “I was looking over the financials. There are some irregularities. A few large expenditures don’t add up.” I knew exactly where that money had gone. And as the one who had spent it, Trevor certainly knew better than I did. His mistress, with one child and two more on the way, needed to be well taken care of. And Trevor, now a successful entrepreneur in his forties, had the capital to keep her satisfied. He froze for a fraction of a second. I saw his right hand, hanging by his side, clench into a tight fist. But he recovered quickly. “That was me,” he said, his voice calm. I lifted my head and met his eyes. He looked away, his explanation laced with guilt. “Mark and I have been making some small private investments over the past couple of years. I didn’t want you to worry, so I didn’t mention it.” Mark was his childhood friend. He would cover for Trevor without hesitation. I didn’t press for details about the “investments.” He didn’t offer any more explanations. He simply closed the door and left. He suspected I knew about his other family, but there was no panic in him. It was as if he was certain I would endure it. And if I didn’t, what could I do? If I filed for divorce now, it would be a gift to him. He would have everything: immense wealth, a loving family, perhaps soon to be three sons. And me? I’d be approaching forty, alone. Even so, there was no point in wasting another second of my life on a man this broken. 4 I found it increasingly unbearable to have Trevor play the role of husband in my life, but the transfer of assets wasn’t complete. The cold war between us had to continue. Maybe he was waiting for me to come to my senses. Maybe he was waiting for me to ask for a divorce. Either way, I had no intention of letting him off easy. Twenty days after I discovered the affair, I met the woman he was keeping. She must have heard something from Trevor, because she decided to provoke me directly, staging a “chance encounter” at the coffee shop I frequented. She was even sitting at my usual table by the window. The P.I. I hired had sent me dozens of photos and videos of her. I recognized her instantly. She was young, probably no older than twenty-five or twenty-six. The clothes she wore, the designer bag at her side—none of it was cheap. Trevor must have sheltered her well; she had a vibrant, almost naive energy about her. Her eyes held a sort of clear-eyed stupidity. For a moment, I thought of myself at twenty-five. Trevor and I had been married for just over a year, living in a cramped, second-floor walk-up on a meager salary. Our clothes were worn for years, faded from countless washes. It was during those years that we scraped together every penny to fund our startup. Late at night, overcome with emotion, he would sometimes swear he would never betray me. I believe, back then, some part of him meant it. What a pity that sincerity has such a short shelf life. I acted as if I didn’t know her. I ordered my usual coffee and sat at a table diagonally across from hers. I didn’t give her so much as a sideways glance. My initial assessment of her was quickly proven wrong. She moved to the seat directly opposite me, a provocative smile on her face. “Mrs. Hayes,” she said. So, she knew exactly who I was. This wasn’t a case of being manipulated or lied to. She was a willing participant. And now, she was trying to challenge me, openly and brazenly. Tsk. Did she have any idea that half of everything she ate, everything she wore, belonged to me? I took a sip of my coffee, my gaze drifting over her slightly swelling belly. “I’m sorry, have we met?” In the end, she didn’t have the courage to admit her sordid role in all this. She stammered out a flimsy, ridiculous explanation of how she knew of me. I said nothing, simply watching her with a half-smile. I wanted her to know that I saw right through her pathetic little game. A vine that spends its life clinging to a tree forgets how to withstand the wind and rain on its own. She didn’t last thirty seconds under my gaze before she scrambled away, her hasty retreat a picture of utter humiliation. I felt a pang of something like pity. For her, and for the state of the world. So young, with a whole life ahead of her, and this was the path she chose: to be someone’s broodmare. 5 Whether Trevor knew about this little stunt or not, the fact that the woman he was keeping had the audacity to confront me was his problem. I decided it was time to move the divorce proceedings to the top of my agenda. Before I could act, my phone lit up with a series of texts from my best friend, Jenna. She was sending me screenshots of the other woman’s Instagram stories—a constant stream of her flaunting her lavish lifestyle. This was nothing new, but today’s screenshots were different. Jenna added a message: She’s provoking you. Everyone needs a few trusted friends. I’d had Jenna follow the woman’s account months ago. If she so much as breathed in the wrong direction, I knew about it immediately. I opened the last screenshot. It was her latest post. The picture was of a child, laughing so hard he was practically rolling on the floor. Above it was a caption. The gist of it was: What does it matter how arrogant you are now? Everything you’re working so hard for will belong to my children one day. Ah, yes. I had almost forgotten. She has a child. I do not. And her child with my husband, though born out of wedlock, still has inheritance rights. This world is a real piece of work. I looked at the divorce papers I had drafted on my laptop. No matter how hard I fought, the most I could hope for was 70% of the assets. The remaining 30%, combined with the company’s annual profits, would be more than enough to support their family of five for the rest of their lives. I have her Instagram post to thank. It was the final push I needed to realize that this was not enough. It was far too easy for them. I clawed my way through hell to build this life. No one was going to walk on the path I paved without my permission.

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The System said: “Julian Sterling is going to destroy the world. You must stop him.” I pulled out my phone. “I’m calling the cops.” The System screamed, “Stop! Do you know what love is? Do you understand what ‘redemption’ means?” Redemption. Save and redeem. I nodded. “I got it.” The next day, when I tied Julian—the billionaire heir—to a chair in my apartment, the System collapsed screaming: “YOU DON’T GET IT AT ALL!!” 1 The System was emitting a high-pitched screech in my brain. I was annoyed. “Didn’t you say ‘save’? How am I supposed to save him without tying him up? How else is his family going to pay the ransom?” The System was losing its mind. “Are you a college student or a felon?! I swear I’m going to call the cops on you! Chloe, haven’t you read a romance novel? Redemption means saving his soul! Filling his heart with love! With sunshine!” I paused for a moment. “You mean… you want me, a broke college student, to save the soul of a billionaire heir with assets worth hundreds of millions? And fill his heart with love?” What the f*ck. I wake up every day and grind just to survive. Who’s coming to redeem me? Forget it. I’m going to destroy the world too. Julian had woken up. A pair of cold, dark eyes were staring right at me. “How much do you want?” he asked calmly. Wait, is this for real? I blurted out, “Two thousand dollars!” Silence. The System and Julian both went quiet. The System broke first. “Oh my god, why did I choose someone so useless! Kidnapping is bad enough, but who kidnaps a billionaire for two grand?!” I wanted to slap this foul-mouthed System. “Ask for too much and it becomes a felony kidnapping! Do you know the law? Use some common sense!” “I’ll give you twenty thousand. Untie me,” Julian said after a long pause, sounding almost like he was sighing. My rental apartment was shabby. The young master was thrown onto my small bed, lying on his stomach, hands and feet tied behind his back. The posture was undignified, but his expression was calm. He asked unhurriedly, “You kidnapped me for two thousand dollars?” The System kept barking in my head: “Don’t say it’s for money! Make him feel your love! Love! LOVE! Do you understand?!” Under the System’s duress, I stiffly changed my tune. “I did it for love.” The young master finally lost his composure. His handsome face was written with confusion. He paused. “Is thirty thousand okay?” Thirty thousand. That’s thirty thousand dollars. With tears in my eyes, I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “I don’t want money. I just want your happiness.” Julian was silent for even longer this time. He thought I was sick. I thought I was sick too. He struggled to lift his head to look at me, trying to figure out my angle. “You know my family will find this place. Soon they’ll find you and send you to the police station. It’s not too late to let me go.” Julian negotiated patiently. “Don’t worry. As long as you let me go, I won’t let them send you to jail. I’ll even give you a large sum of money. Is fifty thousand enough?” Fifty thousand! Oh god, fifty thousand. How many DoorDash meals is that? Just as I was calculating my beautiful life with fifty grand, Julian raised the stakes. “One hundred thousand. Let me go and I’ll transfer it now.” Stop talking, rich boy. I really can’t hold out much longer. I gritted my teeth and said, almost angrily, “I don’t want anything!” Julian was lying on his stomach. I sat halfway on him, untying the ropes on his hands with tears in my eyes. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. He’s so rich, why does he want to destroy the world? My life is so hard, why do I have to save him? Let him live my life where I can’t afford meat once a day, and I guarantee he won’t have time to destroy the world! It’s just rich people problems. I was so mad my teeth itched. I couldn’t help but slap the back of his head hard. “Let me tell you, go back and live a good life! Be positive, love life, do charity! If you’re bored, sponsor a poor student like me!” Julian got smacked. He buried his face in my mattress and didn’t speak for a long time. The room was quiet. The System spoke faintly in my mind again. “The villain definitely hates you now. It’ll be harder to redeem him.” I stopped untying the rope. “What do you mean? Is he going to take revenge on me?” “Hard to say. The only info I have is that he’s vindictive, ruthless, and cruel.” I looked down slowly. Julian’s wrists were red from the ropes. I was sitting on the noble ass of a billionaire heir. And I had just suicidally slapped the back of his head. I quickly got off him and used all my strength to help Julian up. Blinking my big eyes with utmost sincerity, I said, “I have no malicious intent towards you, and I won’t take your money. But to prevent you from taking revenge on me in the future, I have to do one thing.” The young master immediately went on alert. “What are you doing?” I reached out with trembling hands, trying to unbutton his shirt. “You dare?!” Julian’s face flushed red, and he began to struggle frantically. His white dress shirt buttons were hard to undo. I was already nervous, and he was struggling violently. I could only coax him gently, “It’s okay, it’ll be over soon. I’ll finish quickly.” Maybe because I had loosened the rope a bit earlier, the knot on Julian’s hands actually came undone. Before I could dodge, he flipped me over and pinned me under him. His face was cold and menacing as he choked my neck. “Who sent you?” I confessed without thinking. “The System! That money-losing System made me do it!” “Chloe!!” The System roared. “You coward!!” Julian frowned slightly. “What did he make you do?” “Make me… make me love you.” I thought about it and shook my head. “No, make you love me.” I spoke sincerely, and Julian believed it. He nodded calmly. “Oh.” I just breathed a sigh of relief when the large hand on my neck suddenly tightened. His dark eyes were cold and emotionless, as if looking at a dead object. I couldn’t breathe. The feeling of suffocation made my vision go black. “Relax. It’ll be over soon,” Julian comforted me gently. His low, melodious voice sounded like the whisper of the Reaper. In the moment of life and death, I finally grabbed his critical area. And squeezed hard. Come on! Mutual destruction! Julian’s face changed. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he didn’t dare apply more force. I raised my eyebrows arrogantly. Julian stared at me grimly. Our eyes met, filled with pure hate. He loosened his grip a little, and I loosened mine a little. But no one let go first. The System, which had crashed from fear earlier, was now mentally broken. It laughed inexplicably. “Haha, how is this not a match made in heaven? Maybe you’ve pioneered the path of pure hate redemption. Haha, I might as well die.” After speaking, the System went completely silent. During the standoff, the front door slammed onto the floor. I looked over in shock. Immediately, a crowd rushed in through the door. Police, reporters, countless flashes going off at Julian and me. Why are there reporters? A beautiful woman crying squeezed through the crowd. “Julian! You died so…” Her crying stopped abruptly when she saw the two of us. Julian suddenly lowered his head and kissed my cheek. “Baby, let go first. We’ll continue later.” 2 I reacted instantly, covering my face quickly, not forgetting to act. “I’m so scared.” “It’s okay.” Julian sat up, rubbed my hair, and slowly untied the rope on his feet. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Actually, there was no misunderstanding. The reporters were driven away. Julian faced the police alone. “This is my girlfriend. We usually play like this.” I sat in the back nodding furiously, chiming in, “Right, so what about my door?” Sadly, no one paid attention to me. “Your stepmother called the police, saying you were kidnapped by a gang of bandits.” The young and beautiful stepmother looked guilty. “Julian, I thought you were kidnapped, so I called the police.” Julian sneered. “Then I should thank you for caring about me so much.” Zero people care about my silently deceased door? I rent this place! And I am absolutely not paying to fix the door. I quickly got up, grabbed Julian’s arm, and said sweetly, “Auntie, then you have to pay for the door. You wasted police resources and trespassed on private property. But considering your age, I won’t hold it against you. Just pay me some emotional damage fees and repair costs.” Julian’s stepmother froze, looking helplessly at Julian, tears welling up again. “Julian, I…” Don’t even think about using relationships to get out of paying! I interrupted her quickly, stopping her pitiful act. “Auntie, don’t worry, we’re family. I won’t scam you. You’re a decent person; you’d be unhappy if I didn’t let you pay. Ju-Ju said you’ve always been generous.” “Ju-Ju?” Julian’s stepmother seemed unable to believe her ears. Julian also looked at me. I held his arm tightly to prevent him from turning hostile. “Yes, that’s my nickname for him. Calling him Julian feels so distant. Don’t you think Ju-Ju is catchy and positive?” She wanted to say something else, but I didn’t give her the chance. I decisively pulled out my phone and opened my QR code. “Let’s add each other on WeChat, and you can transfer the money to me.” She looked at Julian, then at me, and finally silently added me. “Taking classes for him? Taking exams? Picking up delivery?” She looked at me with a complicated expression. “Does Julian not spend money on you?” I said righteously, “We have a pure physical relationship.” Julian’s stepmother didn’t say a word and turned to leave. I didn’t forget to remind her, “Remember to transfer the money, Auntie!” Hearing this, the stepmother paused, then immediately transferred five thousand dollars. Wow! Rich people are generous! I gave a thumbs up and said sincerely, “Ju-Ju, your stepmom is a great philanthropist.” Julian stared at me for a while, then suddenly smirked. His handsome face coupled with that soul-snatching smile made it hard to look away, but I sensed a hint of danger. “Since we’ve met the parents, why don’t you come home with me?” I wanted to refuse, but his words were full of threats. “Do you want people to think you’re really a kidnapper?” Considering the police officer was still there, I swallowed my curses and smiled. “Sure, I’d love to.” Julian handed over the aftermath to someone else and prepared to take me home. I asked him to wait while I packed. I picked up my pot. Julian stood behind me. “Put it down.” Fine. Then I’ll take my fan. Julian said coldly, “Put it down.” I tentatively picked up the desk lamp. He was like a repeater. “Put it down.” Can’t take this, can’t take that! I turned around angrily, about to curse him out. Julian seemed to predict my move. “I’ll transfer you ten thousand later. Don’t take anything, okay?” I instantly softened, grinning. “Okay.” Sitting in Julian’s luxury car, I held my broken phone, grinning from ear to ear. I made fifteen thousand in just one day. Anyone would say I have a good life. Julian closed his eyes and suddenly asked, “What did you mean by that System you mentioned?” “Just what it means.” I was busy buying a new phone and didn’t have time for him. He paused and asked again, “What’s your name?” “Chloe. Chloe Fang.” He asked again, “How many people in your family?” I was getting impatient. “I’m an orphan.” “In college?” Julian opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.” I said seriously, “I have to remind you, your whereabouts are very easy to track. Why were you sleeping on the roof for no reason? It’s dangerous. If someone wanted to kill you, they could have just thrown you off.” Julian stared at me indifferently. “Then why didn’t you throw me off?” I quickly cleared my name. “Hey, watch your words. I’m not a psychopathic killer. I just wanted to redeem you.” “Redeem?” He smirked. “Are you going to redeem me in the future too?” I clasped my hands together, devout and serious. “Actually, I support you destroying the world. After I finish spending this fifteen thousand, can you blow up the world? I don’t want to face the life of a broke person anymore.” Julian raised an eyebrow. “I will destroy the world in the future?” So he doesn’t want to destroy the world yet? I called the money-losing System in my mind. “Come out! What now? What do I say?” The System was silent. He was staring at me with those clear, dark peach blossom eyes. I laughed awkwardly and explained, “No, I was talking nonsense.” He smiled without speaking. The more Julian smiled, the more panicked I got. I pleaded earnestly, “Why do you want to destroy the world? There’s no reason, Ju-Ju. Don’t you think I just love talking nonsense? Actually, I’m mentally ill. Don’t believe me, okay?” “No.” He sat up straight, half-smiling. “Starting now, I want to destroy the world.” I suspect this kid is targeting me on purpose. I darkened my face and threatened him half-heartedly, “If you want to destroy the world because of one sentence from me, then I’ll have to redeem you. From now on, I will haunt you like a ghost and make you fall in love with me.” The car slowly stopped. Before getting out, Julian chuckled low in my ear. “It’s okay, take your time.” “Maybe you won’t live to see that time.” He is definitely targeting me. With that, he turned to get out of the car. I gritted my teeth with hatred and kicked his raised butt. Get down. Julian was kicked out, stumbled, and almost fell flat on his face. “Ah, baby, I’m so sorry.” I quickly got out to help him up, patting his butt. Julian’s face was iron green, but I smiled cheerfully. “I didn’t mean to. You surely won’t be mad at me, right?” The Sterling family butler came out to greet us. A smile appeared on Julian’s face. He reached out and pinched my cheek hard. “How could I be mad at you? Baby, you are so cute. So cute I really want to strangle you.” I was in pain but couldn’t scream. I could only look at him with a smile, reaching out to pinch his cheek just as hard. I said sweetly, “Baby, actually, I love you so much I want to strangle you too.” 3 Julian and I entered the Sterling house with red marks on our faces. Grandpa Sterling was waiting for us. He heard there was a granddaughter-in-law and couldn’t wait to see me. Julian’s stepmother sat obediently by his side, eyes lowered, looking very meek. I was dressed very plainly. I thought I would be looked down upon, but the old man seemed to appreciate a broke person like me. “Look, kids these days are rarely this simple and unpretentious.” Old man, open your eyes to the world. All broke people are as unpretentious as me. “Eh? Why do you have red marks on your faces?” Grandpa Sterling asked suddenly. I smiled and touched my cheek. “We just love to play rough. Sorry you had to see that, Grandpa.” Hearing this, Julian’s stepmother turned pale and slowly stood up. “Dad, I’m not feeling well. I’ll go back first.” “Go, go. Sickly all day, no energy.” The old man seemed to dislike her, frowning impatiently. Before leaving, the philanthropist glanced at Julian. The look had a hint of resentment, quickly withdrawn, but I keenly caught it. I thought it was a plot where the stepmother hires a hitman, but it turned out to be a soap opera drama. Unfortunately, the feelings were unrequited. Julian never looked at her. I chatted with the old man for a while until he got tired. Julian helped him to rest, and the butler took me to my room. As soon as I entered the room, I stopped. Black curtains drawn tight, black carpet, black bed, even the closet was black. This was very unfriendly to someone like me who insists on pink bedsheets. I turned to look at the butler and asked sincerely, “This looks like hell. It’s so dark. Can I not stay here?” “Aren’t you staying with the Young Master? Madam said your relationship is good, so she didn’t prepare a guest room.” I smiled and shook my head. “Our relationship isn’t that good. Can I trouble you…” Before I could finish, Julian walked up from behind and interrupted me. “Uncle Zhao, she’s staying with me. You can go.” With that, the young master smiled at me slightly. “Baby, stop joking like that, or people will think we are liars.” Under duress, I had to swallow my anger and reluctantly walked into the room so dark I couldn’t see people. The door closed. Julian turned on the light, but I still looked resentful. “You didn’t say we were living together before coming.” “Didn’t you want to make me fall in love with you?” Julian walked past me, slowly taking off his watch, speaking calmly. “Spending day and night together, maybe you’ll succeed.” I didn’t think this psycho would fall in love with me, nor did I think I had that charm. But since I’m here, I just have to make the best of it. “So you’re sleeping in the same bed as me?” I asked the most critical question. The young master sat down calmly, took out a glass from the cabinet, and opened a bottle of wine that looked expensive. He poured himself a glass. “You can sleep on the floor or the sofa, but I will never sleep on the floor or the sofa.” I sneered immediately. “Then we sleep together. If I snore, grind my teeth, or fart at night, don’t regret it.” “Mmh.” Julian was as calm as could be. “If I sleepwalk in the middle of the night, just don’t be scared.” A worthy opponent. The wine on the table looked expensive. I poured myself a glass angrily. This wine must cost a fortune. Not drinking it is a waste! First time drinking liquor, I downed it in one gulp. Julian glanced at me but didn’t speak. “What kind of crappy wine is this? So bitter. Bitter and spicy.” I choked, taking a while to recover. After a while, my chest felt hot, and my consciousness drifted a bit. I sat next to Julian, staring at his face, forgetting what I wanted to say. After a long time, I finally remembered. I reached out to cup his face and shouted in surprise, “I remember! I wanted to tell you, you’re actually pretty big!” Julian slapped my hand away, his ears turning completely red. “What nonsense are you talking about?!” I took the opportunity to persuade him. “Look at you. Rich, handsome, highly educated, and remarkably well-endowed. What’s there to be unhappy about?” Thinking of my own crappy life, comparing it to others felt like a joke. I sighed. “I can’t even imagine what troubles you could have.” I suddenly remembered the philanthropist. “Don’t tell me it’s unrequited love. Your dad will die sooner or later. Your good days are ahead.” Julian finally snapped back and pushed me away. I floated down onto the sofa. Well, wherever I fall is where I’ll sleep for a while. “No sleeping.” Julian patted my cheek. “Tell me what else you know.” I suddenly felt so wronged. Sleeping was my only joy. Before, I had to work and study and never got enough sleep. Why can’t I sleep now? I was aggrieved to death. I asked him, “Why can’t I sleep? I haven’t slept well in a long time.” Julian frowned and lowered his voice. “I’ll let you sleep after you finish talking.” “What did the System tell you?” I thought about it. “He said you will destroy the world in the future, and no one can stop you. He also said you are vindictive and ruthless. He told me to love you, fill your heart with love and sunshine, treat you well, and redeem you.” “Anything else?” I closed my eyes again, planning to sleep. “Nothing else.” Julian picked me up, forcing me to stay awake. “Did anyone send you to assassinate me? Is the System a code name? Where is he?” This guy is too suspicious. “No.” I had to open my eyes. “The System is just a system. He crashed and stopped contacting me. How would I know?” I leaned on his shoulder, unable to control myself, complaining, “Do you have persecution mania? Do you think the whole world is your enemy? In this world, only I have the obligation to be good to you, and you don’t even cherish it.” Julian stopped talking. I was drowsy but felt something was wrong. Why did I answer whatever he asked? Is this what they call “truth after drinking”? Whatever. Sleep. I had a terrible dream. I dreamed I was tightly wrapped by a giant python. The black python was thick and strong, wrapping around my whole body. It didn’t eat me, just waited slowly for me to suffocate to death. No, no. This feeling of death-like suffocation was incredibly real. I struggled, trying desperately to break free. “Help, don’t eat me.” In the nick of time, I finally shouted out. A hand broke free and slapped the python’s big head. A crisp sound rang in my ear. My palm stung slightly. I opened my eyes slowly, confused. Because Julian was holding me in his arms in an extremely ambiguous posture. He buried his head in my hair, seeming to smell my scent. “What are you doing?” I was speechless. His expression didn’t change, nor did he try to explain. He slowly let go. There was a clear red mark on Julian’s fair face. Just as I was about to ask if he planned to murder me, the butler knocked on the door. “Sir is asking for you two.” … Yes, he has persecution mania. He had this problem since childhood. After some treatment, he still always feels someone is trying to harm him. Chloe fell asleep in his arms. Julian thought about it and didn’t let go. She had a reassuring scent. Holding her felt safe. At first, he only wanted to hold her for a while. Somehow it evolved into holding her tightly. A slap came. Julian froze, looking down. Their eyes met. Julian suddenly thought she looked cute. Her eyes were bright, like a puppy. He wanted to laugh, but he held it back. Because if Chloe knew his thoughts, she would jump up and hit him on the head. Flailing her claws, as if afraid of nothing. Chloe walked in front of him. Although she had never been here, never met his father, she was confident, as if she could solve any problem. Julian followed closely behind her. 4 Julian’s father expressed great disappointment about today’s events and told Julian to break up with me as soon as possible. I lowered my eyes, but Julian didn’t seem to listen at all. He held my hand in his and kept kneading it. He pinched my fingertips. I glanced at him unhappily. Do you have a death wish? This is a hand, not a stress ball. Julian’s father also noticed his small movements. In a rage, he slammed the table. “Look at what you’ve become!” Father Sterling was furious, but Julian smiled very happily. I silently stared at Julian. Does this guy have Oppositional Defiant Disorder? “I don’t even want to talk about that slap mark on your face!” Father Sterling glanced at me, then took out several stacks of cash from the safe behind him and slammed them heavily on the table. I finally stopped playing dead. I pulled my hand back sharply, sat up straight, and looked at Father Sterling expectantly. Come on! Smash me with money! Give me money, let me roll! Father Sterling’s face turned red. He pointed at Julian and roared, “Slap him again for me, and all this money is yours!” My eyes lit up. Really? Daddy. Is money this easy to earn? “You dare.” Julian glanced at me and said in a low voice. I slapped him without thinking. “Bold! Is this how you talk to your father? I hit you not because of the money, but because you failed your father’s painstaking efforts!” Julian looked at me gloomily. I widened my eyes. “What are you looking at? Apologize to Uncle!” I stood up abruptly and advised earnestly, “I know you are a filial person. Uncle treats you so well. I can’t bear to let you father and son have differences because of me. No choice, Ju-Ju. I love you very much, but I still have to go. Let’s break up!” Although no tears came out, my tone was very sincere. I looked grief-stricken and reached for the tens of thousands of dollars on the table. Too sad. Can only run away with the money in tears. Just as I reached out, Father Sterling suddenly held my hand, seemingly deeply touched by my words. “Chloe, children as sensible as you are rare nowadays. Uncle spoke a bit heavily just now.” I froze. “Now it seems you and Julian are a good match. You must discipline him well.” Julian also stood up and put his arm around me. “Dad, now you know? Chloe is such a simple, unpretentious, non-greedy girl. You give her money, she doesn’t even want it.” Father Sterling withdrew his hand in shame and stuffed all the money back. “Uncle was too shallow. Chloe, don’t hold it against me.” I really wanted to cry this time. Not taking this money is no different from losing it. I walked downstairs in a daze and ate with the Sterling family. At the dinner table, I learned Julian has two younger brothers. One about his age named Ryan. They didn’t look much alike. Ryan sat the farthest away, eyes lowered. After saying hello, he sat down obediently to eat. There was also a four-year-old brother named Nate, looking sturdy and cute. Julian’s stepmother is named Catherine. She went to the same school as me before. After graduating from college, she married Father Sterling. The Sterling family relationships aren’t too complicated. After dinner, Julian had things to deal with and asked me to go back to the room to rest first. When I went upstairs, I met Ryan following behind me. To be polite, I waited for him. Ryan looked up at me. His dark brown eyes had no emotion. He said nothing. I didn’t know what to say either, so I smiled at him. We walked upstairs side by side and separated at the stairs. I lost tens of thousands of dollars. I lay on the sofa sighing in despair. When Julian came back, I threw a pillow at him. “That was tens of thousands of dollars! Julian, are you targeting me on purpose?” He caught the pillow easily and smirked. “I haven’t settled the score with you for hitting me yet.” I cursed his entire family in my heart. Julian walked slowly to me, sat down slowly, and said casually, “Stay away from everyone in this house, especially Ryan.” I always take such advice to heart. I nodded and silently moved away from Julian. Julian noticed my movement, glanced at me, and pulled me back with a cold face. “Not including me.” He knocked on my head with his finger, frowning slightly in confusion. “Aren’t you afraid of bad guys trying to harm you?” I really wanted to say, no one in this world is worse than you. But I didn’t say it. I just told him sincerely, “Nothing in this world scares me except poverty. As long as I have money, I am invincible.” Hearing this, Julian curled his lips slightly but said nothing. A large sofa. He read beside me, and I lay by his legs catching up on villain redemption novels. The quiet and comfortable environment was relaxing but also made my mind wander. I suddenly sat up. Julian looked up at me. I looked at him seriously. “Were you bullied?” He said without hesitation, “No.” I didn’t give up. “Then were you bullied by your family?” Julian didn’t change his expression, saying coldly, “No either. As you can see, no one in this house can do anything to me yet.” Impossible! There’s always a reason for becoming a villain! I held his hand, intending to warm his heart through thermal transfer. “Then tell the truth. Are you rebellious because of Catherine?” “Catherine… she is indeed a bit annoying.” He thought for a moment, closed the book with his other hand, and squeezed my hand slightly. “She chased me for a long time. Very annoying.” Me: “…Then what is the biggest setback in your life?” Julian smiled. “Baby, I’m different from you. My life has no setbacks.” I couldn’t smile. What does that mean? Is this dead thing speaking human language? Is he inhuman? The villain with no setbacks pulled the phone from my hand, glanced at the book title. “Better uninstall it. Reading this stuff all the time, you won’t live until the day the world is destroyed.” I raised an eyebrow and retorted, “If your life has no setbacks, why do you suspect someone wants to kill you?” Julian pinched my fingers, answering slowly, “If you hadn’t kidnapped me, I wouldn’t suspect someone wanted to kill me.” So it’s all my fault? I was dead inside. I exited the reading app, slightly dissatisfied. “I also think these redemption novels are unreliable. Kissing and hugging for no reason, is that serious redemption?” Julian always has a sharp tongue. I thought he would laugh at me, but he put the book aside. “It’s late. Time to sleep.” Julian slept on the bed, I slept on the sofa. All these years, I could sleep in any harsh environment. Sleeping on a soft, large sofa was already very good. The pitch-black environment helped sleep. I fell asleep in a while. I dreamed I was wrapped by a giant python again. Help. Why are there pythons everywhere? This time the python wrapped tighter, even biting my neck. So scary. Pythons evolve. I opened my eyes groggily. The pitch-black room prevented me from seeing who was beside me. Hot breath scattered on my neck and chest. My waist and back were hugged tightly. Julian buried his head in my neck like a dying ghost, inhaling deeply, as if he were a plant dying of thirst, lying on me to absorb water and nutrients.

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After I went viral. My best friend’s first move was to blackmail me with our chat history. “Girl, I’ve switched phones like five times, but I never deleted our texts. I’ve been waiting for this day.” “Don’t forget where you came from. You said if you got famous, you’d take care of me for life.” “Start by buying me a condo. Your dirty laundry is my biggest leverage.” I smiled and agreed. But even after I bought the condo, she still leaked the chats. Because she said she wanted to use my scandal to launch her own influencer career. I was cyberbullied into a deep depression and fell from a rooftop. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day I decided to start my social media journey. 1 “Harper, my bestie! Are you really going to start creating content?” Hearing Lily’s familiar voice in my ear, I realized I had been reborn. In my past life, ever since I started doing social media, Lily became exactly like those cliché “best friends” in the comment sections. Waiting for the day I blew up so I could support her. She said, “Our chat history is gold right now. I can’t bear to delete a single word. Once you’re famous, this is all blackmail material.” “If you dare to forget me, the scandal drops at noon, and your career ends by dinner.” At the time, I thought she was joking. After all, she was my only best friend. If I made it big, of course, she would benefit. Later, I did make it big. I treated her like family. I gave her cars, houses, cash—everything. But at the peak of my career, she publicly exposed our old chat history on a livestream. Lily said: “Harper, you reaped the benefits of the internet. Surely you wouldn’t mind letting me have my moment, right?” “Don’t worry, I’m just using you to jumpstart my account. Once I have a stable following, I’ll help you clean up your image.” Once the chats were exposed, my image was destroyed. Cyberbullying came in waves. I developed severe depression and fell from a rooftop. But thankfully, I was reborn. This time, I looked at the excited Lily. “Yeah. But my phone is dead. Can I borrow yours for a sec?” She eagerly handed me her phone. “Use it! Use it all you want.” “What’s mine is yours!” “Just don’t forget me when you’re famous!” I took Lily’s phone. Found my contact. Clicked in and cleared all chat history. Lily jumped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Harper! What are you doing?!” I shoved the phone back into her hands, putting on an innocent face. “Oops, sorry Lily, my finger slipped.” “There wasn’t anything important anyway. Deleted is deleted.” Lily scrambled in a panic, her face turning ugly. “Not important?! That was years of my hard work!” “If you get famous later, those were my chips!” I held back the urge to sneer and pretended to affectionately wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Lily, chips or no chips, you’re my only best friend. How could I forget you when I get famous?” She seemed soothed by my words, her expression softening. Lily hugged my arm back. “I knew you were the best. It’s a deal then, I’m your only Ride or Die!” Only Ride or Die? Ha. For a backstabber like you? You like using people to launch your career, right? Let’s see how I destroy you in this life. 2 Back home, I immediately started filming my first video. I already had experience going viral in my past life. Replicating my path to fame wasn’t hard. After posting my first transition video, it got over 10k likes that same night. Lily saw it and immediately DM’d me. “Harper! Your video has 10k likes! I feel like you’re about to blow up!” “I saw a bag today. How about you buy it for me first?” “Since your stats are so good, advancing me a little something shouldn’t be a problem!” Before I could reply, she sent a payment link. I clicked it. A bag worth nearly $5,000. Lily was exactly the same as in my past life—eager to take as soon as she saw me achieve a little success. I didn’t reply, nor did I pay. Late at night, Lily messaged again. “Harper, lonely night. Wanna see some spicy videos?” I immediately went on alert. Since the old chat history was gone, Lily was trying to manufacture new dirt. This time, I smartly replied with two words: “Not interested.” Lily was still baiting me. She sent several links in a row. “I’ve vetted these, all top-tier hot guys!” “Average 7 inches. You’d be missing out if you didn’t look~” Honestly, it’s fine for girls to be a little thirsty. But as a public figure, it’s forbidden. In my past life, these secret conversations between best friends became the tools she used to step on me to get ahead. I replied coldly: “Lily, I never watch these. Don’t send them to me anymore.” Lily sent a few question marks. “Harper, what are you pretending for? You used to beg me for these resources.” “Just because one video popped off, you think you’re better than me now? So fake!” That was a clever line. I thought for a moment and replied: “Lily, how could you think of me like that?” “When we went out to eat, didn’t I pay every time? When you got sick in the middle of the night, I drove across the city to take you to the ER.” “I don’t think I’ve ever wronged you. Instead, your aggressive attitude right now is chilling my heart!” Checkmate. Lily was so angry she called me directly. “Harper, are you sick in the head?” I suppressed my anger and silently picked up another phone to record. “What’s wrong, Lily? Why are you so mad?” Her shrill voice pierced my eardrums: “I said, did you take the wrong meds? What are you pretending for? Look at what you said, were you possessed by a ghost today?” “You won’t buy the bag I sent, didn’t we agree you’d take care of me when you got famous?” “Don’t forget where you came from.” I fake-sobbed twice. “Lily, only one video went viral. I haven’t even gotten a brand deal yet. Where would I get the money to buy it for you?” “Don’t you have savings? You can’t be unable to afford $5,000, right?” I put on my best “pity me” act: “But if I buy you the bag, I won’t be able to afford food.” “You have such a cruel heart, to treat me like this.” Lily was impatient: “Will you earn less once you’re famous? Any random ad is like twenty or thirty grand.” I didn’t forget to establish my persona. “But I have to screen them carefully. I can’t just take dirty money!” She blurted out: “Tch! You’re so high and mighty. If I were famous, I wouldn’t care what the ad was. If it pays, I’m taking it!” Hearing that sentence, I was incredibly glad I turned on the recorder. Seeing that moral kidnapping wouldn’t work on me, Lily reined it in. “Fine, you’re just starting out, it’s not easy. I’ll let you off this time.” “Once you get a brand deal, I’m coming to rip you off properly.” 3 Since that video went viral. Lily urged me to post new videos every day. This time, I was planning to replicate the video that got millions of likes in my past life. So the prep time for props took a bit longer. She couldn’t wait: “Ugh, you can go viral just by posting anything. Why wait half a month to post one?” “At this upload speed, I’ll be waiting until the next century for you to support me!” I ignored her and continued at my own pace. Three days later, I finally finished editing the video. The moment I posted it, I let out a huge sigh of relief. After exhausting myself for half a month, I could finally sleep well. The next day, I was woken up by Lily’s phone bombing. “Harper! Why are you still sleeping! Do you know you’re famous?” “That video got 5 million likes overnight! You have over a million followers now!” Her voice was full of excitement. “Now you’re really a big influencer. You shouldn’t have any excuse to refuse me now!” “How about this, you buy that bag for me first, and this afternoon I’ll go look at a car, okay?” I cut off Lily’s greedy voice by hanging up. The second I hung up, I blocked her. “Whew~” I exhaled a long breath. So satisfying. After I blocked Lily, she kept asking our mutual friends to contact me. I told them to stay out of it, that it was between Lily and me. A mutual friend said: “Lily says if you don’t reply to her, she’s going to expose you.” “She says you don’t care about old friendships and that fame went to your head.” “She says she has a ton of dirt on you and told you to watch out.” I deleted everything. What dirt could Lily possibly have? Keep dreaming. To my surprise. That night, I actually stumbled upon Lily’s livestream. She even titled it: [Come Spill the Tea! My Influencer Bestie Got Famous and Forgot Her Roots!] For some reason, she didn’t show her face. She wore a virtual doll mask over her head. “Tonight’s stream is just a warning. Don’t force me to drop the receipts on a certain ungrateful person!” People kept pouring into the stream, more and more rubberneckers. The chat was boiling: Who is it? Can the streamer just drop the name? Is it that girl who just blew up recently? I saw her last time, felt like she wasn’t a good person just from her face! I’m staying neutral for now! Netizens flip-flop so fast these days, my parents are getting whiplash. If you’re gonna say it, say it! Anyone who doesn’t name names is spreading rumors in my book! Lily waved her hand. “After all, we were besties. I don’t want to be too cruel.” “I hope she sees my stream, comes to her senses, and unblocks me soon.” Netizens typed furiously. What? Blocked after getting famous? If my bestie did that, I’d slap her into orbit! She’s fake. The first person she kicked to the curb after success was you. This bestie is already drowning in her ‘girl boss’ persona, doesn’t know up from down anymore. If my bestie was like this, I wouldn’t just expose her! I’d hammer her until she could never make a comeback in this lifetime. I used to watch these comments for fun. Now I know, the first people who can’t stand seeing you succeed are the ones closest to you. As long as you don’t conform to their wishes even a little bit. They’ll call you ungrateful. They’ll treat the sincerity you once gave them as chips to threaten you with. They want to suck your blood for a lifetime! Lily continued her act. “After all, I’ve been with her for so many years. I was there through her hardest times. Now that she’s finally made it, I still can’t bear to hurt her.” Chat: Girls are truly the gods of soft-heartedness. Your bestie treats you like this, and you’re still defending her! Sister, be my bestie, okay? If I get famous, I will never mistreat you. Sister, don’t be soft! You have to expose this toxic tumor of a best friend! Lily sighed. “Sigh, I’m still soft-hearted.” “If I wasn’t, I would have dropped her black history already. She has a ton of skeletons in her closet!” I was getting angrier by the second. I switched to an alt account and commented. Who knows if what you’re saying is true or false? Maybe you’re just using netizens to launch your own account! There were still some netizens who maintained their critical thinking. Yeah, no evidence, just running your mouth in a livestream. Who knows if it’s fabricated! If you have proof, post it! I have to rush to the next tea party! I got used for clout last time. Before I see evidence, I won’t speak for anyone. Some people empathized deeply with Lily. She said she didn’t want to be cruel. What can you guys do besides incite conflict? You’re defending her bestie so much, are you the bestie herself? You have the guts to block her, but no guts to face her on your main account? Blocked by an ungrateful bestie, still thinking about not hurting her by not naming her, yet being forced by you guys for evidence. Sis, I really feel for you. I was furious. I unblocked Lily right then and there. I messaged her asking what the hell she wanted! In the livestream, Lily picked up her phone and covered her mouth in surprise. “Babies, my bestie unblocked me.” “Do you think she saw my stream?” The chat scrolled rapidly: Was the person talking just now your bestie? What did she say to you? Did she apologize? Don’t forgive her just like that! She’s not apologizing because she knows she’s wrong, she’s afraid her career is ruined! Exactly! Support the streamer to expose her to the end! Don’t be soft! Lily smiled bitterly. “Do you guys know what she said to me?” She covered my profile picture, held up the phone, and showed the message to the netizens. “My bestie asked me, what the hell do I want by streaming?” As she spoke, tears fell from Lily’s eyes. “I thought our friendship of over ten years was indestructible, friends but more like family. But I didn’t expect that I was the only one who kept her in my heart.” “I’m just something she can discard at will after she gets famous.” Chat comforted her: Baby, don’t cry. It’s not worth it for this kind of person. You’re so pretty, doing social media you’ll definitely get famous faster than her. Starting today, I’m your first fan! Even like this, you didn’t expose her name. You’re such a kind baby, I feel for you. +1, can’t let that ungrateful person make money. I will support you to become the new influencer! Lily sniffled, her voice full of grievance. “That’s it for today’s stream. I want to go talk to her first.” “Babies, see you next time.” To gain followers, Lily even made a teaser for the next stream. Her desire for fame was practically overflowing from the screen. 4 After she went offline, she replied to me: “Oh, finally decided to unblock me?” “I didn’t expose you on stream today, that was me giving you face. I advise you not to be ungrateful.” I really didn’t expect that even without dirt, she’d dare to stream to launch her account. “What do you want? Use me for clout?” Lily sent a grinning emoji. “Not impossible.” “Look at how many people were in my stream today. How about we collaborate?” “You help me launch my account. Once I become an influencer too, you won’t need to support me anymore.” “Lightening your burden, how great is that!” I sneered, my fingers typing rapidly on the screen: “You want to eat my blood buns!” (profit from my misfortune) Lily: “Don’t say it so harshly. We’re sisters, what’s wrong with helping me once?” “Or are you just selfish and self-serving, not wanting the people around you to do better?” ??? Talk about gaslighting. “I support you posting videos and doing social media normally, but doing this kind of hype? I will absolutely not help you!” Lily: “Can’t understand nice words or harsh words, huh? Then don’t blame me for using some tactics.” After sending this message. Lily immediately posted a video on her account. The video was accompanied by sad BGM, packaging herself as a victim. Her caption read: “I thought it was an apology, didn’t expect it was a threat.” She also posted a cropped screenshot of the chat history. Once the video was posted, the army of 100k followers who followed her immediately swarmed in. “Oh my god, what a hard life. Is there anything more desperate than being backstabbed by your best friend?” “Sister, call the police. No need to care about old feelings anymore.” “So what if she has a lot of fans? Sis participated in the Great Fan Wars back in the day!” “Sister, you just point in the direction of the battlefield. I’ve never lost when it comes to cursing people out!” Her fans really loved her. They started searching the internet overnight for who the backstabbing influencer was. Maybe I didn’t clean up my alt account well enough when I commented yesterday. These “righteous” netizens actually found me. They commented recklessly under my main account. “So you’re the one who backstabbed your bestie, right? Sisters, hit report. We absolutely cannot let this kind of person become famous!” “Yo, only 1 million followers and you forgot your roots. Did you forget where you came from?” “I’ve disliked every single one of her videos and forwarded this to my family group chat. Fam, did I do the right thing?” “Sorry, I know a little bit of doxxing jutsu.” … Actually, I could post a video or livestream exposing Lily’s true face right now. But I decided to let the bullet fly for a while.

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A TV accident hospitalized superstar Scarlett Howard, revealing a secret: she wasn’t a biological Howard. I, the girl from a poor town, was the real heiress. The news exploded. The Howards welcomed me back on one condition: Scarlett and I star in a reality show. I expected a fight, but Scarlett was just obsessed with having a sister. I joined her, only to find her blinded by love for her cold fiancé, who doted on others. I went on the offensive. Scarlett was redeemed, gaining loyal fans. My design studio skyrocketed. My sweetheart, Liam, won my family over and started his company. All was well, except for Scarlett’s manipulative ex. Months later, he returned, claiming, “I see you as family, that’s why I wasn’t polite.” I feared she’d soften. Instead, she hit him with her bag. “Get away. Your germs are making my sister sick.” 1. I’d spent over two decades working my fingers to the bone in a dirt-poor small town, and then, overnight, I was transformed into Chloe Howard, the long-lost heiress to one of the wealthiest families in the city of Aurelia. The Howards descended upon my tiny design studio like a whirlwind, their tears flowing as they told me I was their real daughter. They brought me into their world, showering me with money, jewels, and property. But before the official family banquet, they made a hesitant request: they wanted me to appear on a reality show. “The show is a joint investment between our family and the Crawfords,” my new mother explained. “Your sister… Scarlett… she’s a famous actress, but her public image isn’t the best. Now that this secret is out, the online hate has gotten so much worse.” I listened, nodding along. “So, you want me to go on the show and play happy families with her? Put on a display of sisterly bonding to quiet down the media storm?” My mother looked down, shamefaced. I waved a dismissive hand. “What’s the big deal? You’ve given me a fortune in cash, jewelry, and real estate. A little reality TV? I’m definitely coming out on top here.” My mother let out a visible sigh of relief. But then, I leaned in, rubbing my hands together. “Just one question,” I whispered. “Do I get paid for this?” She blinked, and I hurried to explain. “It’s just… I’m a fresh graduate trying to get a startup off the ground. Cash is a little tight, you know?” I wasn’t lying. I was desperate for money. My design studio was brand new, only staying afloat because of the money I’d saved from part-time jobs and scholarships in college. A good chunk of it had come from my boyfriend, Liam. He was a recent graduate too, with dreams of his own. But we were both from humble beginnings, with barely two pennies to rub together. “Chloe,” he had told me, “the design industry is brutal. You’re young, you have to strike while the iron is hot. Let’s get your studio launched first. My dreams can wait.” I was a painter and a designer; my dream was to have my own fashion label. Liam was a computer science prodigy whose dream was to create a one-of-a-kind indie game. But he put his dream on hold for me. He poured every cent we had into my studio, and to give me a safety net, he chained himself to a desk job, becoming a corporate drone. So now, being a Howard… honestly, I wasn’t thinking much about family ties. I was thinking about grabbing every opportunity I could. How often does one get a chance to legally cash in without any moral strings attached? Hearing my question, my mother immediately handed me a credit card. “Chloe, there’s a million dollars on this.” My eyes widened. A million dollars! That was a number Liam and I couldn’t even fathom. “Mom, you’re literally my savior. Don’t you worry, I’ll give an Oscar-worthy performance on that show.” The words were barely out of my mouth when she handed me a second card. “I know you have a boyfriend, and that you’ve been supporting him. This is for him. Have him join you on the show. It’ll be good to have someone you trust by your side, so you won’t feel bullied.” I was so moved I could have dropped to my knees. Now Liam’s game studio could become a reality too. His dream and my dream, coming true together. Giddy with excitement, I clutched the two cards and went to call him. But as I was dialing, I saw her—the famous Scarlett Howard. She was on the phone, her eyes brimming with tears, arguing with someone. “It’s our families’ money backing this show! The Howards are major investors! I will not have you bring Amber on set!” Her voice was sharp, laced with the unshakeable authority of someone who had never been told no. I was just marveling at the sheer force of a true heiress when her tone crumbled in the next second. She was crying now. “Fine, fine, I agree, okay? Just… please, don’t talk about breaking off the engagement.” I pursed my lips. Well, damn. Looks like the princess was hopelessly in love. 2. The Howards knew what they were doing. They hyped the show by teasing the first on-air meeting between me and Scarlett. The “Real and Swapped Heiresses: First Encounter” gimmick sent the show’s popularity soaring before filming even began. As part of the strategy, they made sure Scarlett and I never met beforehand. The first time we laid eyes on each other was the day the cameras started rolling, live. The moment the broadcast went live, the viewer count skyrocketed past a hundred thousand. 【The real and fake heiresses meeting live? This is gonna be good.】 【Spicy! With Scarlett’s temper, she’s probably going to tear the new girl apart on sight.】 【A high-society catfight? I’m here for it.】 【Scarlett is 100% going to bully the real heiress.】 【Now that the real one’s back, that imposter Scarlett can finally get lost, lol.】 【Anyone who hates Scarlett is in for a treat today.】 【The Howards are probably ditching Scarlett to launch the real daughter’s career.】 【Or maybe the real one is ugly, and they’re using her as a prop to make Scarlett look better.】 The internet was a cesspool of speculation. Meanwhile, I was staring at my own reflection, feeling a little dazed. “Do I really have to dress this… cutesy?” My outfit was a full-on dopamine-dressing explosion, complete with pigtails. I wouldn’t have even dressed this young and sweet back in high school. My mother said nothing, simply adding two more adorable clips to my hair. Liam, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off me. “Your mom has great taste. You look so cute,” he texted me, followed by a couple of spicy emojis. Yep. The campus legend and academic god was, in private, a total flirt. I was used to it. I stepped into the camera frame, my stomach churning with nerves. First time on TV, and a live broadcast at that. Liam took my hand and twisted the cap off a bottle of water for me. Having him there instantly calmed me down. I was taking a sip when Scarlett arrived. And she wasn’t alone. With her was her fiancé, Gunther Crawford. The Howards and the Crawfords had an arranged marriage, one of those old-family-pact things. My mother had told me Scarlett had been obsessed with Gunther since they were kids, to the point of sheer foolishness. She’d even broken into acting just to be closer to him. And standing next to Gunther was another woman, one I recognized. Amber, a rising starlet who had been making headlines lately. She was the reason Scarlett and Gunther had been fighting on the phone earlier. The three of them walking in together was like watching a soap opera unfold in real-time. As they approached, I quickly stood up to greet them. The word “Hello” was still on my lips when Amber stepped in front of me, a saccharine smile on her face. “Looks like Mrs. Howard really went all out for your big meeting. She knows how much Scarlett adores cute things, so she dressed you up like a little doll.” It sounded like a compliment, but the subtext was venomous. She was pointing out that my own mother knew Scarlett better, and was manipulating me to win Scarlett’s favor. The online comments immediately lit up, saying the Howards cared more about the fake heiress than their real daughter. Some predicted Scarlett would use this to gloat about how much our parents loved her. Others expected me to blow up and assert my rightful place. They were all wrong. Scarlett completely ignored Amber. She rushed straight toward me and cupped my face in her hands. “You must be my little sister, Chloe! Oh my god, you’re so adorable! And your cheeks are so squishy!” Liam looked pained and started to step forward, but he checked himself, realizing it wasn’t his place. His hands just fluttered uselessly in the air. But I didn’t need his help. I threw my arms around Scarlett. “Big sister, you’re so beautiful! And you smell amazing!” Hah. Sorry to disappoint anyone hoping for a catfight. I’ve always had a soft spot for gorgeous women. And Scarlett was breathtaking, like a goddess straight out of an anime. I was already smitten. 3. From that first moment, Scarlett and I were inseparable. It was Liam who finally broke our sisterly bonding session by clearing his throat and introducing himself. “I’m Liam. Chloe’s boyfriend, and her childhood sweetheart.” He said it with a chest puffed out with pride, his eyes locked on me for that last part. Scarlett’s face lit up like her favorite ship had just set sail. Completely ignoring Gunther and Amber, she grabbed my arm, her eyes sparkling with gossip. “How long have you two been together?” “How did you meet?” “How long have you known each other?” She fired off the questions, and Liam answered each one. “Chloe and I were neighbors. We’ve known each other since we were born. We started dating after high school graduation.” “Twenty-five years,” he added, “and we’ve never been apart.” Scarlett sighed, her eyes filled with envy. “That’s so lovely. Childhood sweethearts, just like us.” At that moment, Gunther finally spoke up. “Hello. I’m Gunther, and this is Amber.” I tilted my head, my expression a mask of pure innocence. “Hi! Are you two a couple, too?” It was a direct hit. Scarlett’s face darkened, but not at me. “My sister asked you a question. Are you a couple?” Amber flushed and fidgeted. Gunther just frowned. “Scarlett, don’t make a scene. You’ll give people the wrong idea.” “Oh! You’re not?” I chimed in. “My bad! You two just seemed so much closer than Liam and I, I just assumed. So sorry.” I wasn’t in the entertainment industry. I was a newcomer, the long-lost daughter who knew nothing. It was perfectly normal for me to be clueless, right? My words hit their mark. Gunther immediately took a step away from Amber, creating a very deliberate distance between them. Scarlett looked pleased, and when she turned back to me, her eyes were practically glowing. “Come on, I brought you presents! Let’s go see.” She had no time for Gunther and Amber now; her world revolved around her newfound little sister. She led me to her room and threw open a suitcase. Inside was a top-of-the-line creative suite—a powerful laptop and a professional-grade drawing tablet. “I heard you’re an artist, and that you do digital work, so I got you the best gear.” My eyes went wide. This was equipment I could only have dreamed of before. “Sister, you are officially the best big sister in the entire world. I love you to death.” My praise made her preen. If she’d had a tail, it would’ve been wagging furiously. “There’s more! These two suitcases are full of clothes, dresses, and shoes I bought for you.” She opened another suitcase, and my jaw dropped. Staring back at me was the one-of-a-kind white dress from my studio’s collection that was auctioned off just a few days ago. “Sis, you were the one who bought this dress.” I was genuinely shocked. Scarlett was even more surprised. “Wait, don’t tell me… you designed this?” I nodded, a new wave of affection washing over me as I looked at her. “Sis, you’re my soulmate.” 【Wait, this has to be scripted, right?】 【This feels so fake. Who are they trying to promote here?】 【This is NOT how this was supposed to go.】 【That dress is gorgeous! Link, please!】 【So the real heiress is a designer, and the fake one bought her design without knowing? OMG, the drama!】 【Totally scripted! 100%!】 “My little cupcake sister, you’re a genius!” Scarlett jumped to her feet and started rummaging through her purse. “Here! Beauty club memberships, gym passes, VIP cards for every top restaurant in the city, and a black card with no spending limit. They’re all yours!” I stared at the thick cardholder she shoved into my arms, my eyes practically glowing with greed. “Sister,” I breathed, “you’re a legend.” 4. For the rest of that first day of filming, my sister was practically my shadow. Even Liam started to get suspicious. “Do you think she’s just putting on a show?” he murmured to me later. “You know, all sweet for the cameras, but then she’ll turn on you when they’re off.” I smirked, gesturing vaguely toward one of the cameras. “Still live, you know.” “I never talk about people behind their backs,” Liam stated, matter-of-fact. It was true. He was brutally honest, never one for scheming or gossip. So I gave his question some serious thought. “Honestly, I think my mom just knows her really, really well.” I propped my chin in my hands, posing like a flower. “After all, who could possibly resist a cute little cupcake like me?” Liam swallowed hard, nodding emphatically. “Right. Your sister clearly has impeccable taste.” “And so does Mrs. Howard, of course.” His gaze was so intense it could have melted steel. It was obvious he was a huge fan of my new sweet-and-sassy look. I wasn’t even trying, and he was completely hooked. “But are you okay with it?” Liam asked, his voice gentle. We were always like this—no hidden feelings, no dancing around issues. We asked things directly, unwilling to let small misunderstandings fester into real problems. His eyes were soft with concern. I shook my head. “Not at all. I mean, sure, she’s my biological mother, but she spent twenty-five years raising my sister. It’s only natural they know each other inside and out. It’s just like us, right?” A faint blush crept up Liam’s neck. Just then, my sister peeked her head around the corner. “You two are so adorable together.” “I ship it so hard.” Seeing her, Liam made an excuse and slipped out. Scarlett immediately sat down in front of me. “It’s obvious he’s crazy about you.” I smiled shyly. She took my hand, her expression turning guilty. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Chloe. Your life should have been… better.” I just laughed it off. “Sis, you really don’t have to apologize. Sure, my life was tough financially, but it was happy. I mean, I met Liam, didn’t I?” He was my soulmate. I couldn’t imagine life without him, and he couldn’t imagine it without me. “I graduated from a top university, started my own studio right after… my youth was full of wonderful memories. Besides being poor, there was nothing bad about it. Being poor is only a tragedy if it makes you bitter. And trust me, I’m not bitter. I got lucky.” Scarlett pulled me into a fierce hug. “Don’t you worry. From now on, your life will be even better. Big sister’s got your back.” I nodded firmly into her shoulder. “And I’ll always have yours, sis.” That night, Scarlett and I shared a room, staying up late talking. As a result, we were both yawning our heads off when we came downstairs the next morning. Liam looked from me to her and back again. “You know, you two actually look a little alike.” “Get out of here,” I scoffed. “If I looked like my sister, I’d be drooling in my sleep every night.” Even without a stitch of makeup, Scarlett was dazzling. I had to hand it to my biological parents; they’d hit the jackpot with her. “Chloe, if you’d grown up with the Howards, with money for all the best treatments, you’d be just as beautiful,” Amber said, descending the stairs in a full face of immaculate makeup. My sister’s head snapped toward her, disgust written all over her face. “You have money for treatments, and I don’t see you turning into a supermodel.” The comeback was so brutal, I had to physically stop myself from grinning. No wonder my sister had such a bad rap in the industry. That mouth was a weapon. “Scarlett, why are you so hostile towards Amber? She was just trying to comfort your sister. Why would you attack her for that?” Gunther stepped in, defending Amber. My eyes shot wide open, and I turned to Liam. He immediately held up his hands as if taking an oath. “Just so you know, I will never defend another woman over you. I’m on your side, unconditionally. Always.”

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At Julian’s 28th birthday party, someone “gifted” him a woman right in front of me. Instead of my usual gentle smile, I smashed a champagne glass, wrecked the party, and walked out. I packed my bags and left alone. Everyone said the helpless Mrs. Thorne wouldn’t last three days before crawling back. Julian didn’t care either: “She’s an orphan. Where else can she go without the Thorne family?” But countless “three days” passed. People even started to speculate I had died somewhere. Finally, Julian called for the first time. Only to find the number disconnected. Later, at a famous artist’s exhibition, a portrait of a woman’s profile captivated Julian. He offered an astronomical price to buy it. The artist, Leo, smiled apologetically: “This is the portrait of my wife I am most satisfied with. I cannot part with it.” Chapter 1 It was Julian’s 28th birthday party. I wore my most exquisite gown, entering on his arm. The moment we stepped off the stairs, Julian let go of my hand and left me there. Everyone’s eyes followed him. I was forgotten in the corner. People lined up to give him gifts. He gestured indifferently for the butler to take them away. Until someone presented a beautiful woman. All eyes turned back to me. Sympathy, schadenfreude, mockery. I’d seen too many of these malicious looks over the years. Julian’s expressionless face faltered for a second. That beauty looked too much like his dead first love. “Giving me a woman in front of Mrs. Thorne? You guys have some nerve,” Julian laughed playfully. The gift-giver fawned, “Mrs. Thorne is generous; surely she won’t mind.” It wasn’t that I wouldn’t mind; they just counted on me not daring to mind. An orphan raised by the Thorne family. How could I dare say “no” to the new head of the Thorne family? Julian twisted his wedding ring, amusement in his eyes. “Since Mrs. Thorne agrees, take her…” Before he could finish, I walked up to him. Looking at the woman’s face. The gift-giver was thoughtful indeed, catering exactly to Julian’s taste. Suddenly, I felt tired. I couldn’t listen to Grandma’s advice anymore about maintaining the dignity of Mrs. Thorne. I gently pushed the champagne tower behind me. The crystal pyramid crashed down with a touch. Glass shards and liquid flew everywhere. The banquet hall turned into chaos. Someone gasped: “Mrs. Thorne has gone mad!” Chapter 2 I ruined Julian’s birthday party. But he didn’t seem to care much. The butler arranged for the guests to leave, and servants cleaned up the mess. The beauty stayed, standing quietly beside Julian. Even her personality seemed to mirror his first love. In contrast, I really did look like the crazy one. Julian played with the beauty’s fingers, looking at me casually. “Why so angry? “If you don’t want to see her, I’ll put her up somewhere else. “Don’t worry. I swore to Grandma I would never threaten your position as Mrs. Thorne.” The woman beside him also tried to persuade me. “Mrs. Thorne, why be angry? A man like Mr. Thorne won’t have just one woman. “I only admire Mr. Thorne; I won’t affect your status.” I took off my ring. Placed it on the table in front of Julian. He raised an eyebrow. “Returning the ring to you.” Julian picked up the ring and tossed it into the air. The diamond sparkled before falling back into his hand. He tossed it backward to the woman: “It’s yours. Mrs. Thorne doesn’t want a ring worth millions anymore.” Julian stood up with a sneer, instructing the butler. “Find some etiquette teachers for her. I don’t want to see such rudeness again.” He walked a few steps, then turned back. He threw his own ring on the floor. It rolled and stopped at my feet. “Since you don’t want rings, let’s throw them all away.” Chapter 3 Julian left with the woman. The roar of his car engine was distinct in the night. The butler sighed beside me: “Madam, why provoke him? You know he resents you.” I picked up the ring at my feet and threw it in the trash. “Uncle Chen, go do your work. Don’t worry about me.” The butler sighed and left. I went upstairs alone, taking off the elaborate gown. Changed into a white T-shirt, found a suitcase, and packed all my clothes, which were distinctly separated from his in the closet. Other couples consider divorce agreements when they fight. But the only tie between Julian and me was a pair of rings. No one would guess that the bride and groom of the “wedding of the century” didn’t even have a marriage certificate. I still remember what Julian said at the wedding. “Only Wendy’s name can be on my family registry. Ava, you shouldn’t have married me.” But what could I do? I married him anyway, the man I had loved for seven years since I was a teenager. Thinking one day I could move him. But in the end, I became the Mrs. Thorne in name only. When I dragged my luggage out, the villa was silent. Just like the rainy night Grandma brought me home. Thirteen-year-old Julian stood on the stairs, looking at me coldly. But then he went to the kitchen. And brought me a glass of warm milk. Chapter 4 I booked a flight. Six hours of flying, three hours of driving, back to a remote town in the South. They say people want to return to their roots when they get old. But actually, a homeless person misses their hometown too. Even if there are no relatives left there. I rented a small courtyard in town. The local dialect was familiar yet strange. I left when I was small and lived in the North ever since. I had forgotten how to speak it. Luckily, the neighbor was also an outsider, just arrived earlier than me. He helped me out when I couldn’t understand the old lady at the market. The next day, I made corn fritters to thank him. Turns out he was a painter here for inspiration. He looked like a fresh college grad, radiating warmth and youth. Away from the people and things of the North. In this simple environment, I suddenly remembered I was only 25. But acting the part of Mrs. Thorne in the Thorne family made me feel old. I bought flowers from the street and filled the courtyard with roses. A small rocking chair sat by the flowerbed. Simple, but everything I wanted. The Thorne garden was full of yellow roses Wendy liked. An expensive piano sat in the glass flower room. That was specially designed by Julian for her; no one could touch it. When Grandma wanted to pull out those roses, Julian threw a huge fit. “If the roses go, I won’t come back to this house.” No one mentioned it again. Wendy and those roses became taboo in the Thorne family.

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1 At seventeen, I was tied up in an abandoned warehouse by my nemesis, left to burn alive. To save me, Christian armor took thirteen knife wounds meant for me. One of his legs was permanently damaged. He held me, his blood staining my white dress, but he was smiling. “Don’t be afraid, Elara. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.” Later, fearing I would be targeted again, he left for the Golden Triangle. For seven years, he fought his way up from nothing, becoming a fearsome warlord whose name alone struck terror into the hearts of men. He returned in a blaze of glory and, to the envy of everyone, made me his wife—the sole mistress of his domain. Until I saw the combat medic he brought back with him. She wore a pristine white coat, one hand resting on her pregnant belly, her smile both gentle and cruel. “Christian said a woman like you, who crawled out of the gutter, isn’t worthy of bearing his child. The day I give birth to his firstborn son will be the day you die.” I laughed. Right in front of her, I began to slowly, methodically clean a Browning pistol. As she screamed in terror, I aimed the barrel at her stomach and spoke to my trusted subordinate beside me. “Record this. Send it to Christian.” “Tell him his offspring and I can’t both live. Tell him to choose.” … When Christian arrived, the muzzle of my gun was pressed firmly against Amelia’s pregnant belly. He was still in his combat fatigues, dusted with the grime of the field, an aura of violence clinging to him that never quite washed away. “Put the gun down.” His voice was unnervingly calm, betraying no emotion. Amelia looked as if she’d seen her savior, tears streaming down her face. “Christian, save me… our baby… She’s insane, she’s going to kill our child…” I smiled, pressing the gun a little harder. “Choose, Christian.” He didn’t even glance at Amelia. His dark, piercing eyes were fixed on me. We were like two cornered animals in a standoff. He seemed to be searching my face for any hint that this was a joke, a bluff. He found none. The killing intent in my eyes was thicker than the scent of blood on his uniform. The air was dead silent. The subordinate next to me had palms slick with cold sweat. Christian’s personal guards had already raised their weapons, a dozen black muzzles all aimed at my head. One word from him, and I’d be turned into a sieve. Finally, he moved. He walked toward me, each step landing like a hammer blow on my heart. My knuckles were white around the grip of the gun. “Elara, stop messing around.” He reached me, his voice now laced with a soft, coaxing tone. The next second, he struck. His hand shot out like a viper, clamping around my wrist. He disarmed me with an effortless twist, so fast I had no time to react. BANG! A gunshot echoed through the space. Warm blood splattered across my face. My pupils contracted in shock. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Amelia. It was my subordinate, the one who had been recording for me. A neat hole had appeared in the center of his forehead. He crumpled to the ground. Christian holstered his pistol, his expression blank. He didn’t spare Amelia a single glance, just spoke coldly to the medic behind her. “Take Ms. Vance back to her room to rest. She is not to take a single step outside without my permission.” Amelia’s sobs caught in her throat, the triumphant look on her face frozen in place. She didn’t understand. But I was beginning to. Christian turned, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. He raised a hand—the fingertips calloused and smelling of gunpowder—and gently wiped the blood from my cheek. The gesture was as tender as if he were handling a priceless treasure. “Elara, I told you I would protect you for the rest of my life.” “So don’t do dangerous things like this again.” “And don’t force my hand.” His voice was soft, but it carried the unyielding weight of a command. With that, he tossed the gun aside and strode away. He never once asked me why I had done it. It was as if the man who had served me for five years was nothing more than an ant crushed under his boot. I stood frozen, an icy chill spreading through my heart. I raised my own hand and wiped away the last of the drying blood. I looked at my subordinate’s wide, unseeing eyes and gently closed them for him. Christian armor. Seven years to claw his way from a nobody in the Golden Triangle to an absolute monarch. He had taken more lives than I had eaten meals. He was no longer the boy who would foolishly take thirteen knife wounds for me. I had been so naive. I thought he had risked his life to save me, left his home to build an empire for me, married me in splendor… because he loved me. But it was never love. It was possession. I was his prize, the spoils of a war he had almost died to win. He could spoil me, indulge me, put me on a pedestal. But he would never, ever allow me to challenge his authority. The child in Amelia’s womb was his bloodline. His property. And I had tried to destroy his property. So he killed my man as a warning. I went back to our room. Everything was just as I liked it—opulent, decadent. On my vanity sat the pink diamond he had acquired for me at a European auction just last week. Only you deserve the most expensive things in the world, he had said. How ironic it seemed now. I pulled open a drawer. Inside was an array of modified firearms. Christian had never restricted my access to them. My Elara can do whatever she wants, he used to say. I picked up a small, silver pistol and began to polish it. Footsteps approached the door. Christian entered, carrying a bowl of congee. “You haven’t eaten all day. I had the kitchen make this for you.” He set the bowl down and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on the crown of my head. His voice was tired. “Elara, the child in Amelia’s womb must be born.” “That’s an order.” I said nothing, just stared at our reflection in the mirror. I once thought this was the happiest image in the world. “She is the only daughter of the Kachin State’s chief,” he explained, as if discussing a routine business matter. “She is a hostage in our peace talks. Her child is the collateral that secures our alliance.” “So, you slept with her for the alliance, too?” I finally asked, my voice as still and dead as a stagnant pond. His arms around me tensed. “Yes.” A single word. No hesitation, no remorse. I laughed. “You’re disgusting, Christian.” His body jolted. He tightened his grip, so hard it felt like he was trying to crush me into his very bones. “Elara, don’t say that.” “Once the situation here is stable, I will get rid of her. Then… we can go back to how things were. All right?” There was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of panic in his voice. I didn’t answer him. The night passed in silence. The next day, under the pretext of my being “traumatized,” Christian placed me under house arrest. For my own protection, he called it. It wasn’t long before Amelia came calling, oozing triumph. She dismissed the guards and sauntered in, her pregnant belly leading the way. “Elara, you must hate me so much right now.” I leaned back on the sofa, lazily flipping through a magazine, not even bothering to look up. “Do you really think Christian explaining things to you means he still cares? Don’t be a fool. He’s just afraid you’ll screw up his plans. A prostitute who crawled out of the gutter really thinks she’s the lady of the manor?” Her words grew uglier, more venomous. “Did you know, when he holds me, he says he’s been sick of your lifeless body for years? If you weren’t still useful, he wouldn’t even bother to touch you.” The corner of the magazine crumpled in my hand. I finally lifted my eyes to hers, my gaze like ice. “Are you finished?” My stare made her falter, but she quickly straightened up. “What? You want to hit me? Do you dare? Your man’s body isn’t even cold yet. Elara, I suggest you recognize your place. Be a good little ornament. When I give birth to the firstborn son, Christian will make me his official wife. And on that day, I’ll make you kneel and lick my shoes.” I looked at her face, twisted with jealousy, and suddenly found it amusing. “Amelia, do you really think that just because Christian is protecting you, I won’t touch you?” I set the magazine down and rose slowly, deliberately. I walked toward her, step by step. My aura forced her to back away instinctively. “What do you want? I’m telling you, I’m carrying—” SLAP! A sharp, clean crack of my hand across her face cut her off. She clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “Hit you?” I grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back. “I’m going to kill you.” I dragged her toward the second-floor terrace, her screams echoing through the villa. “Help! Someone, help me! Elara’s gone mad!” The guards outside rushed in, but froze when they saw the scene, too afraid to intervene. I slammed Amelia against the railing, half her body dangling over the edge. Below was a cliff of jagged rocks, a drop of a hundred feet. A fall would be certain death. “Elara! Let me go! You’re crazy!” Amelia shrieked, her face white with terror. I leaned in close, my lips brushing her ear, and whispered in a voice only we could hear, “You wanted to be the mistress of this land, didn’t you? I’ll grant your wish. Jump from here, and you’ll be the shortest-reigning mistress in history.” I applied a little pressure. Amelia let out a final, deathly scream. Just then, Christian and his men arrived. “Stop!” he roared, his voice thick with an anger he couldn’t contain. I turned and met his furious dark eyes. But a slow smile spread across my face. “Christian, you’re here.” “Look. Your woman is in my hands. Tell me, should I let her live, or should I let her die?” Christian’s face was so dark it looked like it could drip ink. The guards behind him raised their guns in unison once again. Amelia was sobbing. “Christian, save me! She’s going to kill me! She’s going to kill our baby!” He stared at me, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. “Elara, I’m saying this one last time. Let her go. Otherwise, don’t blame me for forgetting our past.” “Our past?” I laughed as if it were the funniest joke in the world. “Is there anything left between us? Not since you started sleeping with other women for profit. Not since you killed my man for a piece of collateral. Christian, from the moment you brought her here, we were finished.” My words were a knife, twisting in his heart. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes, but it was quickly consumed by rage. “So you’re going to destroy everything I’ve built?” “Yes,” I admitted without hesitation. “I’m going to destroy your child, destroy your alliance, destroy everything you hold dear!” “You’re insane!” he snarled, veins bulging on his forehead. “I’m not insane.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I just don’t love you anymore.” Those words were more lethal than any bullet. Christian’s body visibly swayed. The fire in his eyes went out, replaced by a raw panic I couldn’t decipher. As we stood locked in our standoff, a sudden wave of nausea washed over me, followed by a familiar, sharp pain in my lower abdomen. My face went pale, and my grip on Amelia loosened. She seized the opportunity, scrambling away to hide behind Christian. I clutched my stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. It’s over. My period was two weeks late. I looked at Christian, my mind a complete blank. He seemed to notice something was wrong, his brow furrowing. “What is it?” Before I could answer, the villa’s doctor rushed in. He saw the color of my face and immediately moved to support me. “Ma’am, you—” “Get away from me!” I shoved him off. I couldn’t let Christian know. I couldn’t. But the strange feeling in my body was intensifying. My vision tunneled to black, and I lost consciousness. I woke up in a hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling my nose. Christian was sitting by my bed, holding my hand, his expression unreadable. He saw I was awake. “Elara…” he began, his voice hoarse. I ignored him, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. It was still flat, but I knew something had changed. In the doorway, the doctor was speaking in a low voice to Christian’s second-in-command. “…She’s two months along. Her constitution is weak, and this episode has stressed the pregnancy. She needs complete rest. This child is a miracle.” My heart sank like a stone. A child. I was carrying Christian’s child. What was I going to do? Christian overheard the doctor. His body went rigid, and he turned to look at me. Our eyes met. A storm of emotions swirled in their depths: shock, elation, and a flicker of… something I couldn’t name. A struggle. After a long moment, he dismissed everyone. The room was silent, occupied by only the two of us. He walked to my side and bent down, as if to embrace me. I turned my head away. His hands stopped in mid-air. He awkwardly pulled them back. “Elara, we’re having a baby.” His voice trembled with a joy he couldn’t conceal. I looked at him, my expression cold. “Get rid of it.” The smile on his face vanished, frozen in place.

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I opened a BBQ joint in the apocalypse. While others are fighting zombies on empty stomachs, I’m feasting on sizzling, fatty pork belly every day. 1 This is my third day in this world. I stared at the pork belly grilling on the rack and let out a heavy sigh. Three days ago, a gas tank exploded in my restaurant. When I opened my eyes, both my BBQ joint and I had been transported to this godforsaken wasteland. There’s no one here. Just ruins everywhere you look. At night, there are no streetlights. Beyond the glow of my shop, it’s pitch black. The craziest part? There are zombies. Real-life, blood-soaked, limb-missing zombies like in the movies! Fortunately, for some reason, the zombies can’t enter my shop. So I’ve been hiding out here, safe and sound. I flipped the pork belly. Once it turned golden brown and started dripping oil, I took it off the heat, blew on it, and stuffed it into my mouth. Fragrant, fatty, delicious. My culinary skills are still top-tier. But there’s a catch. My shop currently has an endless supply of pork belly and beer, but literally nothing else. Every time I try to grab other ingredients from the fridge, an invisible barrier blocks my hand. A robotic voice chimes in: “Please open for business. Serve customers to unlock remaining ingredients.” After three days of nothing but pork belly, I’m about to throw up. But where are the customers? Aside from the wandering zombies, there isn’t a soul in sight. I can’t exactly invite a zombie in for a cold one, can I? I squatted by the door, holding a skewer, sighing and hoping a customer would fall from the sky. After squatting until my legs went numb, the doorway remained empty. The night was thick with fog, and the only sounds from the distant ruins were the wails of the undead. In this pitch-black world, my BBQ joint was the only speck of light. I downed the last of my beer and was about to head to the back room to sleep when a staggering figure appeared at the door. I thought it was a zombie, but then I squinted—it was actually a person! A young guy, maybe 5’9″, with a round face. Although he was covered in blood and stumbling, his eyes were clear… It was a real, live human! He was staring at me in shock, utter disbelief written all over his face, his hand trembling as it rested on the window. A customer! My brain screamed. Before I could even think, my hand flew to open the door. I put on my best customer-service smile, just like back at the night market: “Hey handsome, want some BBQ?” 2 Kyle sat in a daze at the BBQ table. It was a real BBQ joint. Surrounded by cheap green plastic chairs stained with grease, kegs of draft beer in the corner. The disposable chopsticks on the table looked cheap—classic night market style. The air was filled with the scent of roasting meat, mixed with oil and spices. Familiar yet strange. How long had it been since he’d eaten BBQ…? Since the apocalypse started three years ago, he hadn’t had a decent meal. Once a chubby guy pushing 200 pounds, he was now a scrawny 130. He was practically skin and bones. And now… he looked up at the shop owner. Was this BBQ joint in the ruins real or a hallucination?! The young female owner was grinning as she grilled a handful of pork belly. The fat rendered over the fire, dripping onto the charcoal with sizzling pops. The scent of cumin drifted through the air, melding with the meat aroma, making his stomach cramp and his mouth water uncontrollably. Kyle thought he should leave. This was the apocalypse. Nations had fallen. Only a fraction of humanity remained. How could a BBQ joint exist in a place like this? And such a normal BBQ joint at that—which was abnormal in itself! But the smell of grilled meat was like a rope, binding him to the spot. He couldn’t move. His eyes were glued to the skewers over the fire. He wanted to snatch them and shove them down his throat! Luckily, the torture didn’t last long. The owner sprinkled a final dash of chili powder, pressed the meat onto the grill one last time, and piled twenty skewers onto a plate. She then filled a huge glass mug from the beer keg. The frosty beer mug instantly beaded with condensation. She placed the tray and beer on Kyle’s table with a smile. “Thanks for waiting!” The steam from the skewers hit his face, carrying an aggressive, delicious aroma. Kyle was stunned by the smell. He stared blankly at the slightly charred pork belly and hesitated: “Is this… for me? Can I eat it?” The owner laughed. “Of course. But do you have anything to pay with?” Kyle thought for a moment, then frantically dug a few green crystals out of his pocket. He scratched his head, handing them over sheepishly: “Is this okay? Level 1 zombie cores. They can buy two corn cakes right now…” He lowered his head as he spoke, knowing their value was far less than this pile of meat. After all, this was meat. In the first year of the apocalypse, all livestock vanished. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate meat. Frozen meat sold for astronomical prices on the black market, if you could even find it. And this pork belly looked incredibly fresh. Kyle’s face flushed red. He wanted to run, but he was glued to the seat. It smelled too good. Even just one bite! These crystals were his only wealth. He had gotten beaten up protecting them just now. To his surprise, the owner picked up the crystals with curiosity, looked them over, and nodded. “Sure. If it’s not enough, tell me, I’ll grill more.” She went back to the counter. Kyle stared at her in shock, but the aroma of pork belly had already infiltrated every pore, bypassing his brain entirely! He grabbed a skewer and shoved it into his mouth— The meat was tender. Incredibly tender. Probably marinated beforehand. The fatty parts were charred just right. When he bit down, the hot oil and savory juices exploded in his mouth, scalding him. But he couldn’t bear to spit it out. He didn’t even feel the burn anymore, chewing every piece with reverence. Chili, cumin, sesame… the medley of flavors made Kyle’s eyes sting with tears. He finally realized what food meant. After this bite, he could die happy! “Drink some beer, don’t just eat the meat!” The owner called out: “It’s fresh draft, changed daily.” Kyle paused and looked at the beer. The huge glass was frosted over, water droplets sliding down its sides onto the table. The scent of wheat and alcohol mixed together. He grabbed the handle with trembling hands and took a slow sip. The ice-cold beer, carbonated and sharp, washed down his esophagus, instantly quenching the heat from the spicy meat. Every pore in his body sighed with relief! Kyle slammed the mug onto the table, eyes red, and shouted: “Awesome!” The owner glanced over and smiled. Before Kyle knew it, the twenty skewers were gone. When he snapped out of it, the plate was just a pile of metal skewers. No meat left. The beer mug was empty, not a drop remaining. Kyle rubbed his stomach, disappointed. He wasn’t full. His stomach was screaming for more. But he clenched his empty pocket and gritted his teeth to stand up. Seeing him stand, the owner trotted over. “Done? Want to order more?” Kyle smiled bitterly and shook his head. “Thank you… I’ll come back when I have money.” He took a deep, lingering sniff of the lingering aroma, pushed open the door, and stepped back into the night. 3 I lay in bed that night, holding the crystals, grinning like an idiot. Customer served. New ingredients unlocked, right? Sure enough, when I opened the fridge, the crystals vanished from my hand. Reaching in, alongside the pork belly, I pulled out a giant squid. Grilled squid, my love! Those twenty skewers were worth it! I picked out a few squids and threw them on the grill. I was so sick of pork belly. Tonight’s dinner: Grilled Squid! … For the next few days, no new customers came. This place is desolate. Aside from passing zombies, there are no living things. I survived on pork belly and squid for half a week. Even the squid was starting to lose its appeal. Was my prayer heard? Just as I wished for a new customer, there was a knock on the door again. I looked through the glass. It was the customer from last week. The boy named Kyle. He was shouting anxiously: “Boss! Boss, please save my brother! I can pay with crystals!” I realized he was supporting someone. It was too dark to see clearly before. The man was hurt badly, blood dripping everywhere. He couldn’t stand straight, leaning heavily on Kyle. Kyle’s eyes were red with desperation. “Boss, please! I brought crystals this time, lots of crystals!” This kid was polite when he paid last time and didn’t ask too many questions. I liked him. I quickly opened the door to let them in. “What happened?” Kyle wiped away tears, voice full of hate. “People ambushed me for my crystals. My brother came to save me and got jumped!” “He would have been fine, but he just killed a Level 4 zombie and hadn’t recovered yet…” “Those animals!” He clenched his fist, then begged: “Boss, do you have medicine? I’ll trade all my crystals!” He pulled handfuls of shiny crystals from his pocket. Green, yellow, red. They rolled on the table, glittering beautifully. A few days ago, I was living in a peaceful city. The worst violence I saw was a drunk fight with beer bottles. I’d never seen a living person this bloody. I didn’t care about the money. I told Kyle to put the man on the cot in the back room. It was my nap bed—small, but clean. Kyle struggled to get him onto the bed. His brother was tall, probably over 6’2″. His feet hung off the edge. I got a basin of hot water and wiped the blood off his face with a damp towel. Pushing aside his blood-matted hair, I realized this man was handsome. High nose bridge, sharp jawline. Even with his eyes closed, his thick lashes trembled. Even unconscious, his brow was furrowed tight in pain. His clothes were soaked in blood. I hesitated and handed the towel to Kyle. “You do it.” Kyle didn’t hesitate. He ripped his brother’s shirt open right in front of me. Wow. Defined muscles. That six-pack was stacked neater than my meat inventory. But it was covered in fresh wounds and old scars. Such a waste of a prime human specimen. I peeked from the side, handing bandages to Kyle. Since I lived in this shop, doing prep work and grilling, I kept a stock of basic meds. Kyle glanced at me, grateful. “Thank you, Boss. I’ll repay you.” I waved my hand. “Don’t mention it.” 4 When Leo woke up, he found himself in a bed. He froze. Since the apocalypse began, he had rarely slept in a bed. Zombies were like a plague. Once one person was infected, the whole area fell. So they slept on the ground, sometimes out in the open. Sleeping sitting up was a luxury. Usually, he’d wake up every hour or two. He hadn’t slept this well in a long time. Leo moved slightly, feeling the warmth of the down comforter. It smelled faintly of body wash. It was pumping heat into his body, cold from blood loss. As he looked up, a girl smiled and handed him two white pills. “Awake?” “You have a fever.” The girl was pale, with great skin. She didn’t look like she belonged in the apocalypse. Her eyes curved when she smiled, voice crisp. “Take some antibiotics.” Leo looked at her pale palm. Two white pills lay there. His pupils contracted. After the apocalypse, medicine prices skyrocketed. Pharmaceutical factories shut down. Drugs were scarce. Three years in, even a box of expired antibiotics cost several Level 3 crystals. And now, this girl was casually offering them like candy. Leo felt dazed. Was it poison? But his silly brother Kyle was urging him excitedly: “Bro, eat it quick!” If she wanted to kill him, she could have done it while he was out. No need for tricks. Leo paused, then took the pills and swallowed them with the warm water she offered. “Thank you,” he whispered. He fished a few red crystals from his pocket. “These are Level 3 crystals. For the medicine.” The girl didn’t hesitate, grabbing them all. “You’re not well, so you should eat light. But unfortunately, I only have BBQ here. How about some pork belly and squid? Mild spicy?” Leo didn’t process what she meant, but his idiot brother jumped up. “You have squid now?! Boss, give me 10 skewers! I brought enough money this time!” The girl rolled her eyes and gestured a size about the length of her forearm. “My squid is this big. Ten will kill you. I’ll grill 4, and 50 pork belly skewers. Beer?” Kyle nodded furiously. “Yes! Large mugs!” Leo rarely felt this helpless. Since the apocalypse, he became strong quickly. He could solo Level 4 zombies. But right now, he felt like an idiot. He didn’t understand a word they were saying. Pork belly? Squid? Beer? Are these code names for new ration bars? How could BBQ and beer exist in the apocalypse? But he watched as the girl put on an apron and struggled to pull a huge bundle of skewers from a freezer. The frozen squid was multicolored and covered in ice crystals. It really was as big as she said. Leo was lost. This really is a BBQ joint. When they were ambushed and he got hurt, Kyle dragged him here, saying there was a shop with a nice owner who could save him. He thought Kyle was hallucinating. Until they actually saw that tiny light in the cold night, and he passed out. So Kyle wasn’t crazy. There really was a shop?! Leo picked up the towel. It was still hot. He wiped his face, feeling sensation slowly return to his body. Over there, the girl had started the fire. Squid on one side, pork belly on the other. Sizzling. The fat from the pork dripped onto the charcoal, popping and crackling. The girl brushed oil onto the whitening squid, its edges curling. She pressed it down with a metal plate. Sizzle. Then she brushed on a thick layer of sweet and spicy sauce. The unique aroma of teppanyaki squid filled the room. “Mild spicy, right?” Her technique was pro. Fifty skewers of pork belly turned from red to golden brown, mesmerizing to watch. Kyle wiped his mouth, staring at the grill unblinkingly, like a dog waiting for scraps. Leo muttered, dazed: “…Sure.” The girl grabbed a shaker of chili powder, dusted the meat, and let it roast for two more minutes. “Order up! Kyle, go pour the beer. Mugs are in the bottom cabinet.” “Yes ma’am!” Kyle sprang into action, grabbing three glass mugs and opening the tap on the keg. Golden, clear beer rushed into the mug, topped with thick white foam, smelling of malt. Even Leo, who faced zombie hordes without flinching, rubbed his eyes and pinched his thigh. Hiss. It hurt. It’s real. Kyle dragged the plastic table and chairs in front of Leo and turned on the overhead light. The light reflected off the oily sheen of the meat. “Bro, eat! With your constitution, a little BBQ won’t hurt!” Kyle invited the girl to sit, then downed half his beer in one go. His face scrunched up, then relaxed. “Awesome!” “I’ve been dreaming of this. Saved all these crystals just to binge on skewers!” He grabbed a hot skewer of pork belly and stuffed it in his mouth— Explosion of flavor! “This is life,” Kyle said tearfully. “How long has it been since I had a full meal? Eating corn cakes and wild greens every day, my throat has calluses.” The girl clinked her glass against his. Leo swallowed involuntarily. “Eat!” the girl urged him. “You paid enough. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more in the fridge!” She handed him a squid skewer. The seafood umami mixed with charcoal and spices hit him like a cavalry charge! Warm lights, steaming meat, ice-cold beer. Leo looked at the skewer in his hand. His brain short-circuited. This was too unreal. Like a dream. A beautiful dream. He tentatively lifted the skewer. It was so big it needed two sticks. Thick sauce coated it, smelling sweet, salty, and spicy. He glanced at the other two, then took a bite. Thick, bouncy meat with a slight crunch. The unique texture of squid mixed with the sauce filled his mouth. It was real squid. Not dried tofu or synthetic meat. His mouth, used to tasteless rations, spasmed in delight. Leo ate faster and faster. Before he knew it, he was holding two empty sticks. He hadn’t even realized he finished the whole thing. He felt awkward. He was always the protector, saving the best for the elders and kids in his clan. Now he lost control. But the other two didn’t look at him. Kyle’s mouth was stuffed with pork belly, mumbling: “Bro, try the pork belly. It’s insane!” The girl boasted, “I use the best pork belly. Almost $3 a pound. Didn’t overcharge you!” “Right, right! Great value!” Kyle struggled to swallow. So Leo picked up a pork belly skewer… That night, they ate and grilled, grilled and ate. By the time they were full, a mountain of skewers sat on the table. Leo swallowed the last piece, sighed in satisfaction, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then he saw the pile of sticks and froze. They ate so much! How much was this going to cost?! The crystals they brought definitely weren’t enough. What now?! Maybe he could leave Kyle here to wash dishes!

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I saved my ex-boyfriend’s daughter in a car accident, but I lost my own life in the process. When he was sorting through my belongings, he accidentally found my diary. In the diary, he loved me deeply. He remembered every old scar on my body. To make up for my childhood regrets, he stood in the freezing cold on Christmas Day, fighting a high fever, just to build me a snowman. In the diary, we never broke up. We got married. Our life was stable, sweet, and full of love. It was a story that didn’t exist in his memory. It was a love buried deep, one he never knew existed. 1 Ethan’s daughter was saved in the crash. The person who saved her, however, didn’t make it. His wife held their daughter tightly, her face a mask of terror and relief. Ethan, however, was staring at the woman surrounded by the crowd. She was thin—too thin. Her hair was plastered messily across her face, obscuring her features. Someone in the crowd whispered, “That car was speeding like crazy. If that woman hadn’t rushed out and pushed the little girl away, she would have been…” His wife covered their daughter’s eyes, shielding her from the bloody scene. Ethan felt a strange, nagging familiarity. It took him a long moment before a hazy memory surfaced. This woman looked like his ex-girlfriend. Her name was… Chloe. The ambulance arrived quickly, taking both the woman and his daughter. His daughter, Lily, was lucky. Aside from a few scrapes, she was physically fine, though traumatized, refusing to leave her mother’s arms. The woman was indeed Chloe. The police told him she didn’t seem to have any family. No one came to identify the body. In her phone contacts, under “Emergency Contact,” there was only his number. Ethan was surprised. In his memory, they had only dated for two weeks, five years ago. Chloe had grown cold toward him quickly and eventually initiated a very rational, mutual breakup. They hadn’t been deep in love, so he hadn’t dwelt on it. But that was five years ago. He couldn’t believe Chloe still had his number. 2 Regardless of their past, Chloe had died saving his daughter. He was grateful. Upon learning she had no other kin, he volunteered to handle her funeral arrangements. A few days later, her landlord contacted him to clear out her apartment. He agreed. Surprisingly, Chloe’s apartment wasn’t far from his own, yet he had never run into her. She lived alone. The place was small but decorated with a warm touch. Life is unpredictable. He never imagined that seeing her again after all these years would be under such tragic circumstances. Chloe lived simply. There wasn’t much to pack. Halfway through clearing a drawer, he found a large stash of medication. He frowned and looked up the name on one of the bottles. Erlotinib. A targeted therapy drug used for cancer treatment. Chloe was sick? Underneath the pile of pill bottles, he found a thick, leather-bound notebook. He opened it. It was her diary. As an outsider, he knew he shouldn’t pry into the privacy of the deceased. But looking at the array of medicine bottles, the police officer’s words echoed in his ears: She has no family… only your number. Suddenly, he desperately wanted to know how she had lived these past few years. 3 Ethan went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, returned to the desk, and opened the diary. The entries were sporadic at first. He gathered that her childhood and adolescence had been rough. Chloe once had a happy family, but her father died in a factory accident when she was five—without compensation. Her mother fell into a deep depression and passed away early. She worked her way through college and stumbled into adulthood. Despite it all, she was optimistic. The tone wasn’t negative. The entries stopped for a long time, likely due to work. When they resumed, his name appeared. July 6, 2018 – Rainy I must be exhausted lately. I fell asleep waiting at the bus stop. I woke up shivering. There was a guy standing in front of me, holding an umbrella. I realized it was pouring rain—a total downpour. No wonder it was so cold. The guy saw I was awake but didn’t speak. I jumped up, confused, thinking I’d hogged the bench too long. Only then did I realize the rain was coming in sideways. The shelter didn’t stop anything. I realized belatedly that he was blocking the rain for me. Sure enough, the back of his shirt and pants were soaked through. It was dark fabric, so it wasn’t obvious at first. I thanked him profusely. He just shook his head and said, “You look tired.” Then, something embarrassing happened. My period started early. I stained the bench and my jeans. I wanted to die of shame. Luckily, his bus arrived. Before he got on, he took off his long coat and handed it to me. “This is long enough. It should cover it.” I tried to refuse, of course. He just smiled. “You can return it if we ever meet again.” Then he got on the bus. Writing this now, my heart is pounding. Chloe, look. He really didn’t recognize you. July 10, 2018 – Sunny My new neighbor is him. We bumped into each other at the elevator while taking out the trash. He clearly recognized me this time. He froze for two seconds, then smiled. My spine stiffened. I blurted out, “I… I washed your coat. I’ll bring it over.” So awkward. He smiled and said, “Okay.” He told me his name is Ethan. In my heart, I replied: I know. I know your name is Ethan. July 11, 2018 I regret returning the coat. Now what excuse do I have to talk to him? July 15, 2018 – Sunny It’s the weekend. I “accidentally” bumped into Ethan walking his dog when I went to take out the trash (I totally timed it). He sniffed the air and said, “Did you cook? It smells amazing.” I nodded, eyeing the takeout bag in his hand. “I made too much. Do you want to try some?” He looked hopeful but asked politely, “Is it convenient?” I nodded. “Super convenient.” He paused, then smiled. Chloe, you are so much braver than you were seven years ago. July 19, 2018 – Rainy Today is my birthday. No friends in this city, colleagues are just acquaintances. I was going to spend it alone. I ordered a small cake. When I opened the door to get the delivery, Ethan was coming out. He saw the cake and asked if it was my birthday. I nodded. He paused and asked if I was celebrating alone. I nodded again. Then… the elevator arrived, and he went down to dump his trash. Sigh. I was about to light the candle when the doorbell rang. Ethan was standing there with bags of groceries, smiling. “You treated me last time. Let me cook for you this time.” I was in a daze until he put on my apron. The food was delicious. Especially the beer duck. He put the candles on the cake and wished me a happy birthday so gently. Ethan, I was really happy today. Thank you. 4 Buried memories slowly sharpened in Ethan’s mind. He had always thought the bus stop was their first meeting. But according to Chloe, she knew him long before that. Yet he had no memory of it. The mystery grew, urging him to turn the page. August 1, 2018 – Sunny My feelings are complicated. Ethan is now my boyfriend. We were grocery shopping when he suddenly asked, “What are we? Just food buddies?” I laughed and said, “I guess so.” Then he asked if I wanted to be with him. I said, “Be with you to do what?” He looked at me, exasperated. “To date. To be a couple.” I froze. It felt like winning the lottery. When I didn’t answer, he stopped walking and looked at me. I thought about it, and I said yes. He seemed relieved. August 5, 2018 – Sunny I gave him a bento box for lunch again. He said I’m too good to him, that it makes him feel guilty. Compared to what he did for me, this is nothing. He doesn’t understand. He is the only person in the world qualified to accept my kindness. August 12, 2018 I’m sick. The flu, I think. Took the day off. I feel terrible. Ethan is on a business trip. I didn’t tell him; I didn’t want to distract him. On the phone, he asked why my voice was raspy. I said I slept poorly. He asked, “Why are you coughing?” I lied, “Choked on water.” He just said “Oh” and went silent. The next morning, he was at my door. He flew back. He made me porridge and soup. He propped me up with pillows because he remembered my back hurts when I sit too long. Being sick made me weak. I started crying into the soup. He panicked, rubbing my back, asking if my old waist injury was flaring up. He said, “I brought patches and painkillers. I was going to take you to a specialist when I got back.” I only mentioned my back pain once. He remembered. I cried harder. “You’re so good to me.” He laughed. “This counts as good?” No. It’s so much more than that. Being with him… at first, I just wanted to repay him. I was happy just to do that. But now, I’m the one getting greedy for happiness. August 27, 2018 – Cloudy Company sent me out of state to sign a contract. Six hours driving. I told Ethan I’d stay the night. But the landlord texted: Power outage in our complex. Won’t be fixed until 2 AM. Ethan… he’s actually terrified of the dark. And ghosts. I finished the contract and drove back like a maniac. Got there at 9 PM. I used my key. The apartment was pitch black. I thought he was asleep. I walked in and bumped right into a wall of muscle. He grabbed my arm, voice shaking. “Chloe?” I said yes. He exhaled a long breath. His hands were ice cold. “Trying to scare me?” he asked. I denied it. He hugged me tight, punishing me, and pulled me to the bed. I felt something in his hand. A small fabric pouch. I asked what it was. He said it was a protective charm his mom got him. He’d been squeezing it so hard it was damp with sweat. I laughed at him. He pouted and said he felt like the room was full of people. I suddenly remembered. Ethan is afraid of the dark, yet he once stood in the freezing dark of winter to keep a stranger safe for hours. He has always been a good man. In the dark, Ethan became very… active. I kind of hope the power never comes back on.

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The whole world knew my marriage to the A-list actor was a disaster. They were all just waiting for me to get publicly humiliated on the new reality show, Second Chances. But on the very first night, the famously aloof Rashawn Croft had a near-total breakdown when the producers assigned him a separate room. During a heart-to-heart, he tearfully complained to the entire world that I never spent his money. In a romance challenge, my one-off, playful “hubby” sent his heart rate skyrocketing to 140. And when he was handed a fake divorce agreement, he completely lost his composure, cried his eyes out, and threatened to sue the production company. The internet went wild: 【Dude, we get it. Turns out you were the miserable trophy wife all along.】 【OMG they baited us with a divorce drama and switched it to a romance! I am OBSESSED with this!】 【Elara, honey, stop smiling and look at your husband! He’s about to short-circuit and die over there!】 1 I’m a polarizing starlet who clawed her way up from nothing. My talent? My looks. My acting skills? My looks. My special abilities? You guessed it, my looks. I was comfortably floating in the C-list until the news of my secret marriage to superstar Rashawn Croft broke, and the internet had a collective meltdown. Besides the Grand Canyon-sized gap in our social and financial status, there was another reason for the shock: everyone in the industry knew Rashawn had a… subtle animosity toward me. At an awards ceremony, our eyes met by accident across the crowded hall. I was still in fan-service mode, flashing my brightest, sweetest smile. The man’s expression, however, twisted into something deeply uncomfortable. He instantly wiped the smile off his face and, in a moment of panic, actually rolled his eyes at me. When the clip went viral, everyone was baffled. Rashawn Croft, though famously cold and reserved, was known for being an impeccable gentleman. Composed. Emotionally stable. Yet, with me, his disdain was utterly undisguised. Later, fans dug up the few other times we’d been caught in the same frame. No matter how brightly he’d been smiling a second before, the moment he saw me, his face would freeze over. Combined with my naturally soft voice and penchant for being playful, the internet painted a picture of me as a desperate social climber, constantly fawning over a man who was repulsed by me. Now that our secret marriage was out, those old clips were trending again. Netizens jeered that his aversion to me was so visceral it was making his face turn red with rage. Hordes of anti-fans tagged the producers of Second Chances on my social media: 【Please, for the love of God, get a divorce. Let Rashawn go.】 【This girl’s got nerves of steel. My husband looking at me with that much disgust every day? I wouldn’t be able to smile.】 【I feel so bad for Rashawn. He’s normally so chill, but she’s pushed him to the point of rolling his eyes. Imagine how miserable his life must be.】 … Spurred on by the public outcry, Second Chances officially invited us onto the show. Rashawn and I had been forced together by our grandfathers; there were no feelings involved. Our daily interactions were no different from those of strangers. I was sick of our dead-water life. I accepted the offer without hesitation, ready to cash one last big check before the divorce. As I was happily counting the zeros on the contract, I noticed Rashawn staring at it with a complicated expression, his pen hovering over the signature line. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “My pen’s out of ink,” he mumbled, looking down. “There’s another one right there.” “That one’s broken, too…” I could tell he was reluctant. Figuring he didn’t want to waste his precious time on me, I leaned in, using my most coaxing tone. “It won’t mess up your schedule too much. Come on, please? For me?” “Well… alright. Fine.” Stammering, a faint blush creeping up his ears, Rashawn dazedly signed his name. 2 The show featured three couples and was broadcast live 24/7. Before filming, the director had given each couple a rough script outlining their conflicts and narrative arc. But considering my decade of consistently mediocre acting and Rashawn’s A-list status, the director ultimately decided to just let us play it by ear. The moment I trudged into the frame, wrestling with two small suitcases, the live chat exploded: 【Here we go! The main event has arrived!】 【LMAO, the other couples showed up holding hands or walking side-by-side. Rashawn not only walks separately from Elara, he makes her carry her own luggage.】 【So what if she schemed her way into a wealthy family? She’s still just the hired help with no dignity. They never even officially announced the marriage. The Croft family probably doesn’t even acknowledge her.】 The online roasting was brutal, but it wasn’t just online. Sophie, another actress on the show, noticed my struggle and took a subtle jab. “Elara, a woman’s hands are delicate. Marcus never lets me carry anything heavy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were Rashawn’s assistant.” Sophie and I debuted around the same time. She’s fiercely competitive and loves to show off. After marrying the director Marcus, she spammed her social media for weeks, flaunting her marriage into a “prestigious” family. Of course, compared to the Croft empire, Marcus’s family was small potatoes. So it was understandable that she was a little bitter when my marriage to Rashawn was revealed. Whatever. I was here for the money, not the drama. I ignored her. The show’s panel of experts, having clearly done their homework, had already accepted the narrative of me being the unwanted, long-suffering wife. Seeing my silence, they assumed I was swallowing my pride, their eyes filled with pity. The chat continued: 【Seriously? Sophie and Marcus are on a divorce show because he’s ‘too possessive’? Are they sure they’re not just here to flex? That gold-digger must be so jealous seeing how happy our Sophie is.】 【Serves Elara right for clinging to that old family arrangement. She made her bed, now she has to lie in it.】 Just then, the camera panned. Rashawn Croft was not, as everyone assumed, relaxing somewhere off-screen. He was struggling toward us, pushing five enormous, interconnected suitcases. The other guests, who had been whispering and watching the spectacle, fell silent. They all stood up to help him. “Rashawn, I thought you were a minimalist,” one of them joked. “Getting a little high-maintenance, are we? You want me to toss that garbage bag for you?” Rashawn coolly sidestepped their hands, his expression sour. I pushed through the crowd. “Uh, those are all mine,” I explained. “And that’s not a garbage bag. That’s Rashawn’s luggage.” The live chat erupted again: 【I’m dead. So Rashawn is the ‘assistant’!】 【So real. When my husband and I travel, all his stuff fits in one plastic bag too.】 【What’s so funny? Look at his face, he’s furious. It’s written all over him. Only Elara could piss off an Oscar-winner this badly.】 【Don’t hold back, Rashawn! Let it all out! I’m here for the daily dose of him being disgusted by Elara.】 The show wasted no time stirring the pot. For our first night, they decided we would draw lots to see if we’d sleep in separate rooms. I started to say, “Can we just skip the draw? Rashawn and I will just choose—” The words “separate rooms” were still on my tongue when the silent man beside me cut me off. “I’ll draw.” Sophie put on a show of sympathy. “It’s okay, Elara. I know you want to use this chance to stay with Rashawn. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” The chat found this hilarious: 【Look at how disgusted he is by her all the time. I bet they’ve never even shared a bed. No wonder she’s so desperate. Poor little rich girl.】 【Did anyone else notice Rashawn secretly glaring at Elara like five times in the last ten seconds? If looks could kill, she’d be dead. This is amazing.】 3 Rashawn nervously unfolded the slip of paper. He saw the word “SEPARATE.” The live chat and I let out a collective sigh of relief. 【Thank god they don’t have to share a room. Rashawn must have been terrified.】 【Okay but… Elara is stunningly beautiful. And her voice is so sweet. If I were Rashawn I’d be obsessed with her.】 【^^ Are you insane??!】 The host went around asking if we were happy with the results. Sophie, who had also drawn “separate,” looked sadly at Marcus. “I’m not used to sleeping alone. I’m worried I won’t be able to sleep.” The host turned to me, a glint in her eye. “Elara, you must be used to sleeping alone quite a bit, right? Any tips you can share?” I fired back with a saccharine smile. “Sorry, I rarely sleep alone.” No one would ever guess. Rashawn Croft had the face of an ascetic who was tired of the world, but behind closed doors, he had a bigger appetite than anyone. That “gentlemanly” reputation his fans loved so much? It mostly consisted of him driving me to the brink of exhaustion while playing dumb. Thinking back, I kind of regretted the hormonally-charged night I’d slipped on a bathrobe, walked into his bedroom, and sat on his lap, declaring, “Even if it’s a contract, we still have to fulfill our marital duties.” One of the main reasons I was so eager for this divorce was that my body just couldn’t handle the frequency anymore. When it was Rashawn’s turn to answer, his thick, dark lashes fluttered. His voice was low and cold. “If I’m not satisfied, can I change it?” The host, not expecting this, was momentarily stunned. “The rules say you can’t.” Rashawn took a deep breath. “Can I draw again?” The host shook her head helplessly. “No.” A flash of raw anger crossed the man’s already brooding features. I gently tugged on his sleeve. “Just follow the rules.” Rashawn nodded stiffly and walked away, his arms and legs moving in awkward, uncoordinated synchrony. The chat was confused: 【Is it just me or is Rashawn acting super weird? Does he… want to share a room with Elara?】 【No way. He’s probably just trying to save face for her in front of the cameras.】 【Oh no. I think I’m starting to ship them. Elara said one soft thing and he instantly obeyed.】 【Was that obedience or was he just disgusted into silence? The man was so rattled he forgot how to walk.】 Without Rashawn plowing his field, I slept like a baby and woke up feeling refreshed. The next day, I was up early. Sophie was in the kitchen making breakfast for Marcus. They were bickering over whether to have boiled or fried eggs. The argument somehow ended with them in a passionate embrace. Sophie even shot me, in all my bed-headed glory, a triumphant look, as if to say, “So what if you married a Croft? My husband loves me. Yours doesn’t.” A camera suddenly swung toward me. “Today is the couple’s chemistry challenge! Pop quiz: What does Rashawn like to drink for breakfast?” “Iced Americano?” I guessed randomly. After our marriage, Rashawn had started taking over his family’s business and was semi-retired from acting. He was up and off to the office before dawn every day. How was I supposed to know what he liked? A moment later, the host cornered Rashawn as he returned from his morning run. “Rashawn, what’s your favorite breakfast drink?” “Hot latte.” The host smirked. “And what’s Elara’s favorite breakfast drink?” “Iced Americano,” Rashawn answered without a second’s hesitation. “But I worry that drinking cold things all the time is bad for her, so I often switch it to a hot one for her.” I stared at him, completely shocked. “Rashawn, why didn’t you tell me? I always thought the housekeeper was getting my order wrong! Hot Americanos are disg—” I caught myself, realizing I was about to offend someone, and swallowed the rest of the sentence. The host was even more surprised than I was. “Rashawn, do you usually make breakfast for Elara?” Rashawn gave a slight nod, a hint of pride in his expression. “She’s so tired every night. She needs to rest in the morning.” Sophie, who had been enjoying the show, froze. The spatula clattered from her hand to the floor. The panel of experts watched with knowing, maternal smiles. 4 The host, determined to get some drama, fired off a dozen more chemistry questions. The final score: Rashawn answered every single question about me correctly. I managed to guess one correctly about him. I was still in a daze when the evening campfire chat began. Even though we lived under the same roof and had our fair share of… intimate contact, Rashawn and I rarely talked. We were both busy with our careers, and besides, Rashawn was the textbook definition of an earth sign: introverted, reserved, and impossible to read. I’d wanted to ask him about those viral clips of him glaring at me, to ask if he really hated me that much, but he always managed to sidestep the conversation before it even began. And yet, here he was, acting like he knew me better than I knew myself. The chat was buzzing: 【This is insane. Even the ultimate doting husband Marcus got a question about Sophie wrong. Rashawn got them ALL right. This can’t be scripted, can it? It’s kinda sweet.】 【Look at Elara’s shocked face. It has to be real. Her acting isn’t that good.】 Me: Thanks a lot, that’s a real backhanded compliment. 【I’m so curious. If Rashawn really despises Elara like everyone says, why would he make her breakfast? But if he likes her, why do they act like total strangers?】 【Agreed. This couple is so fascinating. The others feel like old married couples, but these two have this weird, electric ambiguity.】 The theme for the night was “Money.” The moment I saw the topic, I knew this segment was aimed squarely at me. The host started with Marcus and Sophie. “In your pre-show questionnaires, you both mentioned having some conflicts regarding family finances.” Sophie huffed. “Well, there’s that popular saying, ‘Where the money is, the love is.’ But Marcus still hasn’t given me his bank cards.” The female rapper from the third couple teased, “But at least Marcus loves to spoil you, Sophie. I always see you posting pictures of those thousand-dollar bags and jewelry. My man won’t even add me to his Amazon Prime account.” Sophie lowered her head shyly. “It’s not that big of a deal. I value emotional connection more than material things. But Elara is the one who really married her way out of poverty. She probably has more to say on this topic.” I caught the insinuation in her voice and gave her a sweet smile. “Marrying a rich man is pretty great. You’ll get it once Marcus reaches Rashawn’s level.” Sophie’s smile faltered. See? She brings it up, but she can’t take the answer.

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My roommate was the kind of genius artist who blooms early, dazzling everyone. She came from an old-money New England art dynasty—her father, a powerful figure on the Board of the Met, her mother, a former starlet with a permanent glow. She had been four years old when she first held a brush, ten when her first solo exhibition sold out in Chelsea, and by eighteen, her Instagram following rivaled a pop star’s. So, when I reported her to the school’s Ethics Committee for stealing my winning entry, everyone—from our department head to the campus security guard—thought I was delusional. A classic case of the untalented underdog cracking under pressure. I refused her hush money, trying to claw back my integrity, my truth. In return, she slammed the heel of her hand into my chest and sent me tumbling down the marble staircase. In the final, fading moments, I heard her voice, sharp and cold as shattered glass. “An orphan like you, with nothing but hand-me-down dreams? A joke.” When I woke up, the familiar, stale scent of our dorm room air conditioning filled my lungs, and the clock on the bedside table read: September 14th. Two days before the submission deadline. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight to my easel and slashed the painting to shreds. Now, it was her turn to panic. 1 The first time I stood up to her, after she’d won the Kestrel Prize with my canvas, the internet turned me into a villain overnight. It was all because of who Audrey Thorne was. The golden girl. Born into that rarefied air, she seemed to embody everything the art world adored. She was the one all the other girls at Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) wanted to be. No one, from her devoted fans to the casual onlookers, could believe that she, the luminous, gifted artist, would ever stoop to plagiarize. She was too good, too pure for such a tawdry scandal. To make matters worse, Audrey had used her acceptance speech to call for kindness, softly urging her fans not to “attack” me. “Sienna is a talented but clearly troubled soul,” she’d murmured, her voice laced with that perfected, gentle sadness. While the comments section flooded with praise for her beauty and “noble heart,” the digital detectives dug up my past. Orphan. Raised in a small-town group home. Didn’t even start oil painting until high school on a teacher’s advice. The narrative solidified instantly. “She’s got to be unstable. Why would someone like the great Audrey Thorne need her work?” “A desperate clout chaser. Going for the ‘black-and-red’ route—trying to build a career on controversy. Pathetic.” “Poor Audrey. She has to live with a toxic parasite like that. The school should just expel her for this character assassination!” The insults and fabrications hit me like a dense, driving rain. I sought help from our academic advisor and the other two roommates, Harper and Chloe, begging them to set the record straight. After all, they had seen me hunched over that easel for months. But I didn’t know what kind of deal Audrey had cut with them. They weren’t just unwilling to help; they were actively turning the screws. They did a joint Instagram Live, putting on a show of concern, tearfully urging me to “see the light.” “Just apologize, Sienna. Admit you were mistaken. Audrey is a kind person; she said she’ll forgive you and drop it,” Harper wept into the camera. I couldn’t do it. How could I confess to a lie I didn’t tell? The internet remembers everything. If I admitted to “slander,” that scarlet letter would brand me forever. The public didn’t see it that way, especially after Audrey leaked screenshots from her private fan group. The “evidence” showed her discussing creative ideas that seemed to align perfectly with the winning piece’s concept. Even I hadn’t realized how meticulously she’d planned this from the first day I laid down paint. A furious mob descended on the school’s social media, demanding my expulsion. On campus, students pointed and whispered, their eyes slicing me to pieces. Worst of all, the most extreme Audrey fans found the address of the old group home—The Haven—where I’d grown up. They splashed the main door with foul-smelling red paint and hurled abuse at the Director, Mrs. Sterling, and the younger kids. They screamed that the home raised “bad seeds,” and I was the proof: a “morally bankrupt trash” of a former resident. I could handle the attacks aimed at me, but The Haven had done nothing wrong. They didn’t deserve to be dragged into this firestorm. What I couldn’t wrap my head around was why Audrey, with her innate talent, would need to steal anyone’s art. The answer, I realized, was hiding in the last three years of dorm life. The brilliant child prodigy was gone. Fame and early worship don’t just elevate; they can also corrode the will. For years, Audrey had been too busy attending exclusive parties, filming perfectly filtered vlogs, and signing endorsement deals for luxury brands. She hadn’t spent more than a handful of dedicated days in the studio all semester. She couldn’t even replicate the quality of her own earlier work, let alone generate a new masterpiece. I cornered her one afternoon, warning her that I would call the police if she didn’t end the charade. Audrey threw her head back and laughed—a high, brittle sound. “Oh, stop. Name your price, Sienna.” Shedding her gentle façade, she spoke with a sickening superiority. “Having your little sketch crowned with my name? That’s your biggest break, kid.” “Keep fighting, and I have a hundred different ways to make you disappear.” I was done arguing. I pulled out my phone. That action—that simple gesture of defiance—was what truly enraged her. She lunged, shoving me back with a shocking violence. My head cracked against the corner of a step, and immediately, the slick, copper scent of blood filled the air. My legs were numb. As the world swam into a hazy, darkening canvas, I tilted my head and saw Audrey standing above me on the landing, arms crossed, her expression a mask of cold disdain. “An orphan like you, with nothing but hand-me-down dreams? A joke.” A storm of fury and profound injustice closed my eyes. The next time I opened them, I was back. The clock on the wall was mocking me: September 14th. Two days before the submission deadline. 2 “Sienna, how’s your Kestrel entry coming along?” “You know you can’t slack off. If you win, you’ll get the automatic Master’s placement—no GRE, no portfolio review. It’s huge.” “Just focus, sweetie. I know you can do it.” The earnest, concerned voice washed over me. I flinched, turning toward the sound. Audrey Thorne stood before me, her smile a perfect, radiant curve. She held out a pink, meticulously crafted strawberry tart. “I grabbed this for you. No pressure, just a little fuel for the final push.” I stared, frozen. I couldn’t reconcile this gentle presence with the face I’d seen twisted in sneering cruelty a moment before. Wait, where was I? One second I was dying on a cold staircase; the next, I was back in our cramped, brightly-lit dorm room. Before I could process the terrifying whiplash, two other voices chimed in. “Ugh, hello, catch it, Riser.” That was Harper, always snide. “Seriously, no manners. Typical. Didn’t they teach you how to accept a gift at the… home?” Chloe finished the sentence, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. Harper and Chloe had made it a point to freeze me out since they found out I was a scholarship kid from a group home. It wasn’t physical bullying, but their words were always barbed, meant to inflict a thousand tiny cuts. I usually shot back, refusing to be their doormat, but we’d kept up this toxic cohabitation for three years. This time, I ignored them. I launched myself off my chair, knocking the strawberry tart and the hand that held it aside as I bolted into the bathroom. Behind me, I heard Harper’s shriek. “Oh my god, Audrey, are you okay?” “The hell, Sienna! What is your problem? Did she just assault you in a daytime seizure?” Chloe raged. Audrey sucked in a theatrical gasp of air, but her reply was soft, forgiving. “It’s fine, girls. Sienna is probably just stressed about the deadline. There are so many of us submitting this year. Let’s not make it harder for her.” Same old Audrey. Always the martyr, the perfect, understanding friend. My past life screamed at me: She is a wolf in silk clothing. Chloe’s voice rose to a furious pitch. “I swear, she’s just jealous of you! You’re so nice to her, and this is how she repays you? She needs to apologize, right now! This is not over!” The two of them stomped off their beds, heading straight for the bathroom door, ready to drag me out and force a confession. But I had already locked it. I leaned against the sink, ignoring the banging and the muffled shouts. I looked into the mirror: my face was full, alive, bright. I reached up and touched my forehead. No blood. No sickening, deep gash. I clenched my fist and drove my nail into the sensitive flesh of my palm. The pain was immediate, sharp, and undeniable. I was back. I had a chance. The piece of art had not yet been submitted. I hadn’t been cyberbullied into oblivion. The Haven had not been vandalized. The rhythmic pounding on the door intensified. “Sienna, what is it? Did I do something wrong? Please, let’s talk. Don’t bottle things up.” If I hadn’t seen the truth, I might have been moved. But now, my only thought was a cold, sharp resolve: Audrey Thorne would never climb to the top on the back of my work again. After a moment, I opened the door. Audrey instantly moved in, her eyes wide with manufactured concern. Harper and Chloe hovered behind her, shooting daggers at me. I walked past all three of them, straight to my desk. I picked up my utility knife, flipped back the protective drop cloth, and, in a single, decisive motion, sliced my finished masterpiece to ribbons. Silence. Shock. Then, Audrey let out a sound so sharp it felt like a shriek. “Sienna! What is wrong with you?” She clutched her hair. Her voice was too loud, too distraught. “That painting was incredible! You—you just ruined it! The deadline is in two days! What am I going to submit?!” The word hung in the air: submit. In her panic, she’d forgotten the script. I had known she planned to steal it, but seeing her claim it so naturally, so instantly, made my blood run cold. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “It’s my painting, Audrey. I’m the one who decides what’s wrong with it. And what you submit is none of my business.”

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