Category: English

One week ago, the real daughter of the Sterling family showed up at our doorstep. That was when I found out I was a fraud. A placeholder. But my biological parents were long dead, so the Sterlings decided to keep me on as a charity case. The newly returned heiress, Harper, seemed to have a bone to pick with me. Not only did she reclaim the attention of Mom, Dad, and my older brother, but she also set her sights on the fiancé who was supposed to be mine. I didn’t really care. I just wanted to survive and keep a roof over my head. But when I tried to return my fiancé to her, the usually gentle Liam showed a dark expression I’d never seen before. He gripped my waist tight, looking down at me with a suffocating intensity. “Chloe, I’ve known since we were kids. You can only be mine.” Just then, Harper pushed the door open. She blinked, flashing a smile that showed off her cute canines. “Liam, didn’t you promise Mrs. Vance you’d have dinner with me?” Weirdly, I suddenly heard a roar echoing from her soul. — “Get away from the female lead, you psycho protagonist! She belongs to the second male lead, you absolute trash bag!” 1. I’ve become weird. Normal people can’t read minds, but apparently, I can. Specifically, I can only read Harper’s mind. Harper is my sister in name, but she’s the true Sterling bloodline, and I’m the fake. The day she was brought back, Mom, Dad, and my brother Ethan held her and cried their eyes out. I stood off to the side, clearly an outsider looking in. From that day on, I knew my place. No more acting spoiled. No more willful demands. I just needed to be a quiet piece of furniture in this house. The whole world started revolving around Harper. Harper hated me, the imposter, which I understood. I had lived a life of luxury in her place for nineteen years while she suffered out there. I accepted my fate. I was pretty chill about it. Mom, Dad, and Ethan were hers. My childhood fiancé, Liam Vance, should also be hers. Harper had been visiting the Vance estate a lot lately. She’d come back and flex in front of me about how nice Mrs. Vance was to her, how polite and gentle Liam was, and how lively the house was with her around. My brother, usually close to me, looked like he wanted to say something but held back. Finally, Mom came to me. “Chloe, Harper has really taken a liking to Liam. She’s knitting scarves, baking pastries… If Harper hadn’t gone missing, she would have been the one engaged to him…” Before she could finish, I cut in. “Mom, as long as my sister is happy, I’m happy.” Mom breathed a sigh of relief, then seemed to feel a delayed pang of guilt. “Good child. Mom will keep an eye out for a great guy for you in the future. We won’t mistreat you.” I nodded obediently. But everyone knew how awkward my position in the Sterling family was now. Any ‘great guy’ would probably avoid me like the plague. Whatever. I never planned on relying on a man anyway. 2. Liam must have heard the rumors. He walked into my room casually, just like he did when we were kids. We grew up together; he used to love lounging in my room while I played house, forcing him to eat ‘fried rice’ I made out of Play-Doh. But this was the first time since we grew up that he barged in without knocking. “Liam…” I barely got his name out before he yanked me up from the sofa by my wrist. His grip was rough. I realized standing in front of him that I only reached his chest. Through his thin white dress shirt, I could see the definition of his muscles rising and falling. There was a dangerous, wild edge to him. He was mischievous as a kid, but grew up to be gentle and calm. I’d never seen this side of him. My wrist throbbed. I wanted to curse him out like I used to, but then I remembered—this guy was about to become my brother-in-law. Let it go. But when I stayed silent, he escalated. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me tight against him. Even though we were engaged early on, we had never been this intimate. “Liam, are you crazy?” I couldn’t help but snap, trying to struggle free. “Shh,” his voice was low and raspy, right in my ear. “Be good. Let me hold you for a second.” I struggled harder, but against his absolute strength, it was useless. He held me for a long time, then suddenly looked down at me. His eyes were dark, like they wanted to swallow me whole. “Chloe, I’ve known since we were kids. You can only be mine.” His predatory gaze made my skin crawl. The childhood friend I knew had turned into a wolf that had been lying in wait. 3. When Harper walked in, Liam didn’t let go. I was standing in the middle of a total nightmare scenario, scalp tingling with awkwardness. But Harper, clearly a girl of deep schemes, didn’t even flinch at the scene. She just smiled. “Liam, didn’t you promise Mrs. Vance you’d have dinner with me?” At that exact moment, her lips didn’t move, but I heard a roar full of primal rage. It hit the room like a thunderclap. — “Get away from the female lead, you psycho protagonist! She belongs to the second male lead!” Liam’s expression didn’t change. I thought I was hallucinating. But then came another line. — “Toxic male, get your ass downstairs and eat. Don’t bother the heroine.” — “Or I swear to God I’ll send you to prison myself!” Me: ? I looked at Harper, who was smiling innocently, and felt my worldview shattering. She had no idea I could hear her screaming internally. — “Big sis is here. I won’t let you hurt the heroine.” — “Got it?” 4. From then on, I kept hearing these bizarre rants coming from Harper’s mind. Like the day she came back from dinner with Liam and started bragging to me as usual. “Liam is so sweet. He heard I hate de-boning fish, so he picked all the bones out for me. He said there’s this amazing seafood place he wants to take me to next time. I’m totally going to love seafood~” In reality, her mind was spewing profanity. — “Eat sht!”* — “Liam, that son of a btch. Who was he showing that long face to during dinner? It’s not like I kidnapped him!”* — “He wants the heroine but also wants the Sterling family’s political backing to secure his place in the Vance empire.” — “Trash. Absolute societal garbage.” — “Useless except for his face.” — “I sincerely hope he has a micropenis.” — “Three-second wonder.” Me: … Me: “Pfft.” Harper instantly looked at me, her fake bragging expression cracking. Her inner voice fired up again. — “? What’s she laughing at?” — “Sigh, her mental state. She must be driven crazy by me.” — “Hope she’s okay.” — “But short-term pain is better than long-term suffering. Stay away from this cheating psycho and you’ll be happy for eight hundred lifetimes.” Harper walked past me up the stairs, then suddenly turned back and gave me a provocative smirk. “Sister,” she said. “Liam… I’m going to win him, you know.” She strutted away like a peacock fanning its tail. Accompanied by her excited inner thoughts. — “Yessss!” — “I’m amazing.” — “I should go get an Oscar.” 5. My brother Ethan came back from a business trip in Chile. He brought gifts. Harper and I each got a crystal bracelet. She got an extra pair of pearl earrings. I got an extra jar of artisan chocolates—I’d specifically asked Ethan to bring them. He knew I didn’t care much for jewelry but loved sweets. Harper eyed my chocolate. She wanted the whole jar. Ethan couldn’t handle her whining and soft-soaping. He turned to me. “Chloe, Harper has never had these before. Her old family couldn’t afford them… How about you give the chocolate to her this time? I’ll buy you more later.” I never realized before how good my family was at making empty promises. The moment I handed the chocolate to Harper, a hurricane raged in her mind. — “Wow. Just wow.” — “If he’s so good at selling dreams, why doesn’t he go into marketing? Spineless coward.” — “Useless trash man. His brain fell out somewhere over the Pacific.” — “Heroine, please give up on this loser already.” — “If this guy gets a wife later, he’s just going to let her bully you too.” — “Now he asks you to ‘tolerate’ giving up chocolate. Later, if his wife slaps you, he’ll tell you to ‘tolerate’ that too.” — “Heroine! Wake up!” — “There aren’t that many things in this world worth tolerating!” I looked up at her, stunned. There aren’t that many things in this world worth tolerating. I don’t know why, but that sentence hit a nerve. Snap. Two tears rolled down my face.

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Four months pregnant. My husband, an OB/GYN, was with me to get the results of my latest scan. The smile on his face froze the moment he saw the report. Then, he was dragging me by the arm, insisting I have an abortion. I stood there, stunned. The doctor had just told me the baby was perfectly healthy. I wrenched my hand free. “Why? What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer, but his fingers were already flying across his phone, scheduling the procedure. When he saw me backing away, his grip on my arm became a vise. “This baby cannot be born, Anna.” I clutched my stomach and called my parents—both of them OB/GYNs, like him. My father, the man who had always cherished me, raised his fist as if to strike my belly. My mother’s face was a mask of terror, her head shaking frantically. “No, this is wrong. All wrong.” Then, a chilling whisper from my father. “We need some guys. To be with Anna.” I didn’t understand why they wanted to destroy my child, my life. I tried to run. They locked me in a dark room. When I saw the blood pooling beneath me, I knew my baby was gone. My mother came for me later, a bright, brittle smile on her face. I screamed at her, demanding to know why, why they had done this to me. She didn’t answer. Instead, she had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. I died there, tormented and alone. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. It was the morning we were supposed to get the test results. 1 “Annie, you ready?” My husband, Mark, smiled at me from the doorway, his eyes shining. “Our first baby. I can’t wait to finally meet them.” “Come on, honey, let’s beat the morning rush at the clinic.” Hearing his voice jolted me back to the present. I felt the gentle, firm curve of my four-month belly, the warmth of the life inside, and I knew it was real. I was back. I had been reborn on the exact day my life had shattered. In my first life, Mark had been the perfect expectant father. He’d treated me like I was made of glass from the moment we saw the positive test. Every day, he’d buy something new for the nursery—a tiny pair of socks, a beautifully illustrated book. He’d already compiled a list of over a hundred names. Even though I was getting my prenatal care at the very hospital where he worked, he insisted on taking the day off to come with me to every single appointment. His excitement for this child was boundless, a radiant sun we both orbited. Then came the four-month check-up. We went to the appointment, holding hands, full of happy anticipation. Dr. Evans, my obstetrician, confirmed that the fetus was healthy, with all genetic markers, including for Down syndrome, coming back clear. Mark, being a doctor himself, asked to see the report. He was still smiling when he took it. And then the smile didn’t just fade; it shattered. A raw, animal fear flashed in his eyes. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and started pulling me out of the office, his other hand already on his phone. I realized with a sickening lurch that he was booking an appointment with the surgical unit. I dug my heels in, yanking my arm back. “Mark, Dr. Evans just said the baby is fine! Why are we doing this?” He ignored me, his focus locked on the screen. I tried to snatch the phone from his hand, but he spun away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes were bloodshot when he turned back to me, and his voice was a raw snarl I had never heard before. “Anna, listen to me,” he growled. “This baby cannot be born!” The sheer violence in his tone terrified me. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my knees went weak. While he was finalizing the arrangements at the front desk, I scrambled for my phone and sent a desperate text to my parents. They were both respected doctors; surely, they would talk some sense into him. They arrived in minutes. Seeing them didn’t faze Mark. If anything, a strange, chilling smirk touched his lips. I shrank into my mother’s arms, seeking the familiar comfort of her embrace. My father, however, bypassed me completely and slammed his fist into Mark’s jaw. “What the hell are you doing?” he roared. “The baby is healthy. Why would you schedule an abortion?” Mark didn’t even rub his cheek. He simply straightened up and handed the lab report to my father. The rage on my father’s face dissolved into the same stark terror I’d seen in Mark’s. His eyes widened, his hands trembling as he clutched the single sheet of paper. Then, he turned, his gaze fixing on my stomach, and he lunged, his fist raised. My mother threw herself in front of me just in time. The blow landed on her shoulder with a sickening thud. “Are you insane?” she screamed at him. “That is your daughter! Your grandchild!” My father just laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. He passed the report to my mother. The woman who had just protected me, the woman whose arms were my lifelong safe harbor, recoiled as if the paper had burned her. Her face went ashen. She pushed me away from her, stumbling back, shaking her head over and over. “No,” she whispered. “No, this can’t be.” A cold dread was coiling in my gut. “Mom? What is it? What’s wrong with the baby?” She didn’t seem to hear me, lost in her own private horror. “This is not going to work,” she muttered, grabbing my father’s arm. “Doing it here, at the hospital… it’s too public. I have another idea.” Her eyes, when they finally met his, were cold and hard. “We need some guys. To be with Anna.” My entire body went numb. I stood frozen, watching the three most important people in my world transform into monsters, all because of a piece of paper. What could it possibly say? And why wouldn’t any of them tell me? As my parents started to move toward me, instinct took over. I turned and ran. But my father was faster. He caught me by the arm, his grip unforgiving. I sobbed, begging them to let me go, begging them to just tell me the truth. They forced me into their car, stuffing a glove in my mouth to silence my screams. They locked me in a dark, foul-smelling room with five naked men. I was too terrified to even scream. I pounded on the door until my fists were bruised and bloody, but the world outside was silent. The men dragged me to the floor. Every time I fought back, they hit me. My child dissolved into a pool of blood that dried on the filthy concrete. A week later, my parents and Mark came to get me. “Anna, sweetie, we’re going home,” my mother said, her voice bright and cheerful. I stared at her, at the casual way she pretended nothing had happened, and something inside me snapped. A raw, guttural laugh escaped my throat. “Why?” I shrieked, the sound tearing at my vocal cords. “Why would you do this to me?!” The mask of maternal concern dropped, revealing a face of ice. My father slapped me, hard. “You ungrateful bitch.” I was still reeling from the blow when my mother’s gaze, sharp and venomous, pinned me in place. “Anna is confused,” she said, her voice clinical and detached. “We should take her to a psychiatric hospital.” From that day on, Mark made sure my life in the institution was a living hell. He sent people to torment me, to ensure I never had a moment of peace. The man who had once loved me more than life itself now wanted nothing more than my death. Three months later, he got his wish. I died without ever knowing why. What was on that report that made them all want to kill me? The terror of my past life flooded back, a cold tide in my chest. I rested a hand on my still-warm belly and took a deep, shaky breath. This time would be different. This time, I would find out the truth. At the hospital, I made sure I was the one who took the report from Dr. Evans. As she gave me the good news, my eyes were already scanning the page, my fingers closing around it. I thought that as long as Mark never saw it, I would be safe. But as we were leaving the exam room, he held out his hand, just like before. “Can I see the report, honey?” My heart stuttered, but I forced a playful smile. “What for? It’s just a bunch of numbers.” He chuckled, a sound that now seemed laced with menace. “I’m the father, and I’m an OB/GYN. Isn’t it normal for me to want to see it?” “Dr. Evans just told you we’re both perfectly healthy. You don’t trust your own mentor?” “Of course I do. I just want to be informed so I can take the best possible care of you.” I deliberately tucked the paper into my purse. “Well, today you don’t get to. Call it a pregnancy whim.” He played along, his tone indulgent. “Alright, alright. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” I smiled and linked my arm through his. “I’m just going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back, and then we can go home.” I clutched my bag and walked toward the bathroom. I had glanced at the report, but in my haste, nothing had jumped out at me. I needed to lock myself in a stall and study it, line by line, to find the monster hiding in the details. But the moment I stepped into the deserted restroom, a cold wave of panic washed over me. I fumbled inside my purse. The report was gone. I rushed back out into the hallway and saw him. Mark was standing twenty feet away, his face deathly pale. In his hand was the report that was supposed to be in my bag. He saw me and started walking toward me, his steps quick and purposeful. My survival instinct screamed at me to run, but he caught my arm before I could take more than a single step. His eyes were bloodshot, his gaze locked on mine with a terrifying intensity. “Anna,” he hissed, his voice low and urgent, “this baby cannot be born. We’re going to schedule the procedure right now.” In my last life, I never understood how the man I loved could change so completely in an instant. The raw hatred in his eyes was something I had never seen before. My body trembled, but this time was different. This time, I knew what to do. “HELP!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “SOMEBODY HELP ME! HE’S TRYING TO MAKE ME LOSE MY BABY!” The busy hospital hallway fell silent for a beat, then erupted into motion. In seconds, we were surrounded. Mark froze, clearly stunned by my outburst. I immediately dropped to my knees before him, my voice breaking with manufactured sobs. “Mark, please! The doctor just said the baby is healthy! Why are you trying to make me have an abortion?” He gritted his teeth, his voice a furious whisper. “You bitch. Shut your mouth.” He tried to haul me to my feet, but a burly man stepped out of the crowd and shoved him back. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” “My God, the baby’s fine and he wants to abort it? What kind of monster is he?” a woman gasped. “He didn’t want the responsibility, he should’ve thought of that before he got her pregnant,” another man chimed in. “Forcing a pregnant woman to have an abortion is illegal! Someone call security! Call the police!” Mark’s breath was ragged, his face contorted with a rage he couldn’t unleash. He glared down at me, trapped by the circle of strangers. Then, a slow, cold smile spread across his face. He pulled out his phone and made a call. To my parents. By the time they arrived, a small crowd was still gathered around Mark and me. My mother rushed to my side, her face etched with worry, pulling me into a protective hug. The moment she touched me, I flinched. Sympathetic onlookers quickly explained what had happened. My father’s face purpled with rage. He strode toward Mark, his hand raised to strike. But before the blow could land, Mark held up the lab report like a shield. “Dad, don’t look!” I screamed, trying to scramble forward to snatch it away. It was too late. My father took the paper and his eyes scanned the page. The change was instantaneous. The fury in his eyes flickered and died, replaced by a familiar, chilling horror. “Dad?” I whispered. When he looked at me, his eyes were red-rimmed and filled with loathing. The hand that had been meant for Mark swung without hesitation and cracked across my face. “You animal!” he spat. “Mark wants you to get an abortion for your own good!” The world felt like it was crumbling around me again. I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek, my voice trembling but defiant. “But Dr. Evans said the baby is healthy!” “I’m an OB/GYN too! Are you calling me a liar?” He drew back his fist, aiming for my stomach this time. My mother leaped forward, pushing me behind her. “Have you lost your mind? She’s pregnant!” she yelled at my father. But instead of backing down, my father let out that same, ugly laugh. “You feel sorry for her? This… thing… doesn’t deserve to be our daughter!” Gasps rippled through the crowd. People started murmuring, pointing at my father, disgusted that a man could speak about his own child that way. My mother, though, was no longer looking at him. Her focus was on the report in his hand. She knew my father, knew his gentle nature. She knew something on that paper must have broken him. “Let me see it,” she demanded. I grabbed her arm, my eyes pleading. “Mom, please. Dr. Evans said the baby is fine. You don’t need to look, do you? You can go ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.” I knew that the moment she saw it, I would lose her, too. She pulled me into a hug, stroking my hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your father and Mark are just a pair of incompetent doctors. They’ve misread something. Remember, I was the head of the department. I know what I’m looking at.” “No, Mom, please don’t,” I sobbed, clinging to her. “Please, I’m begging you.” But the more I resisted, the more determined she became. Seeing there was no stopping her, I fell to my knees again. “Mom,” I cried, my voice raw with desperation. “If you look at that report, you’ll stop loving me. Just like they did.” “That will never happen, Anna,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’ve seen every kind of report imaginable in my career. And even if this baby wasn’t Mark’s, I would still stand by you and protect you. You are the person I love most in this world.” Her gaze was so warm, so full of love, that for a foolish second, I believed her. I let her go. She took the report. The warmth in her eyes vanished as if it had never been there, replaced by a flicker of pure, cold malice that made me shrink back. Her face drained of all color. A bitter, twisted smile touched her lips. She wasn’t explosive like my father or Mark. Her control was what made her terrifying. “It’s alright, Anna,” she said, her voice a monotone. “The baby is fine. Get up now. We’re going home.” She said the words, but the hand she extended toward me was trembling violently. She was fighting to contain an earthquake of emotion. “No,” I whispered, scrambling backward, into the legs of the crowd. “I don’t want to go home.” My mother’s brow furrowed, her expression turning venomous. “Anna, what are you doing? You’re pregnant. You can’t be out here. What if something happens to you?” I saw them closing in—the three people I once called family. I grabbed the sleeves of two strangers, kneeling on the hospital floor. “Please,” I begged them, “please help me. I can’t go with them. They’ll kill my baby.” The onlookers hesitated. I was a pregnant woman, but I was also clearly hysterical. And these were my parents, my husband. It was a family dispute. Thankfully, one woman spoke up. “She’s pregnant and clearly distressed. You shouldn’t be forcing her. What if you hurt the baby?” My father’s face was a mask of fury. “We are the doctors! Do you think we don’t know what we’re doing?” he roared at her. The good Samaritan faltered. In that moment of hesitation, Mark lunged, grabbing me from the crowd and dragging me across the polished floor without a shred of care. The crowd watched, hesitant to physically intervene with family. But just as they were about to pull me through the automatic doors, a firm hand clamped down on Mark’s shoulder. “Let her go. Now.” A uniformed police officer stood behind him, his voice radiating authority. Mark instantly released me. My mother was already spinning a story. “Officer, thank you for coming. This is our daughter. She’s been having some… mental health issues. We’re just trying to take her home.” The officer looked at me, his expression skeptical. I shook my head, my voice finding its strength. “That’s not true,” I said, pointing at them. “They want to kill my baby. My perfectly healthy baby.” The three of them froze, but I could see the smug certainty on their faces. They believed they held all the cards. “If you don’t believe me,” I continued, my voice growing stronger, “check the hospital’s security footage. You’ll see them. You’ll see everything.” The officer dispatched his partner to retrieve the surveillance tapes. After they reviewed the footage, a female officer moved to my side, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. She faced my family, her voice stern. “Why are you trying to force this woman to terminate a healthy pregnancy?” My parents just scoffed. Mark stared at me with cold indifference. “Coercing a pregnant woman into an abortion is a felony,” the officer reminded them. Mark didn’t flinch. I turned to the police officer, my voice steady. “Let me see the report.” Their faces changed the moment they saw it. The truth had to be there. At the officer’s command, Mark reluctantly handed over the single sheet of paper. I took it from him. And as I read the words printed in neat, clinical black ink, I finally understood. I finally knew why this child had to die.

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Everyone in New York City knew I was the gold digger who’d clawed her way into a marriage with Grayson Ford for his money. Grayson, however, only had eyes for the ghost of a girl his mother had once paid fifty thousand dollars to break up with him. The one that got away. So, the moment Ava Cole set foot in Ford Industries, the vultures in our circle started a betting pool, taking odds on how long it would be before Grayson kicked me to the curb. Some said three months. Others said six. I had every intention of fighting to save both my marriage and my money. But that resolve crumbled the moment I saw Grayson—a man who was usually a glacier in a bespoke suit—turn a rare, warm gaze on his new secretary. I can lose the man. I can’t lose the money. That evening, I walked straight into the city’s most exclusive speakeasy and laid down five million dollars. “I’ll take the one-month bet,” I said. 1 Who on earth doesn’t love money? I was intensely curious about this sainted ex-girlfriend of his. The day after I heard she’d been hired, I stormed into Ford Industries, dressed for battle and ready to see for myself. Grayson was in his office with a client. When he saw me walk in, his expression didn’t flicker. I was used to it. My husband had a face carved from ice. What could I do? He was handsome and rich. My only option was to spoil him. I’d just settled onto the plush leather sofa when his new secretary, whose back was to me, spilled a cup of coffee. It splashed, with almost theatrical precision, all over the new shirt I’d picked out for him that morning. The secretary’s face was a mask of calm. She expertly retrieved another shirt—one I’d never seen before—from the private adjoining room, her chin held just a little too high. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ford. You’ll have to change.” Despite the interruption in front of a client, Grayson didn’t reprimand her. He simply took the shirt and went to change. When he came out, adjusting his collar, he glanced at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. “How does it look?” he asked her, his voice casual. “It looks good on you.” Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, a silent understanding passing between them, followed by the ghost of a shared smile. Oh. I could smell the stench of betrayal from across the room. Before I could demand he shut the door for a private conversation, Grayson was already ushering the client out and toward the conference room. I stood up, my four-inch heels clicking furiously on the marble floor, but I couldn’t keep up with their brisk pace. The secretary, cool and detached, stopped me at the door. “Ms. Langley, there’s an important meeting today. Unlike you, some of us have things to do. We don’t have time to entertain you.” Her voice was low, but sharp. “For those of us who believe in earning our place in the world, our time is best spent on things that actually matter to this company.” A mocking smile touched her lips. “Besides,” she added, “you’re dependent on this company to survive, aren’t you?” I stared at her, this legendary woman who supposedly couldn’t be bought, this icon of integrity and strength. I let out a soft, deliberate “tsk.” Ms. Langley? Earning our place? What a perfect performance. The noble working girl who scoffs at the very capital that keeps the lights on. So this was his type. No wonder a bombshell like me didn’t even register on his radar. … When I agreed to the merger of our families, I already knew about the one that got away. Ava’s family wasn’t wealthy, and she was fiercely proud. She couldn’t stand the constant condescension from Grayson’s mother and had ended things, walking away without a second glance. Grayson had been hung up on her for years. On our wedding night, he slept in the guest room, clutching a cheap, hand-knitted scarf she’d once made for him. I scoffed, rolled over, and buried my face in my five-figure, custom-made silk comforter. It smelled divine. I slept until dusk the next day, then met my friends to continue the bachelorette party we’d started two days prior. It wasn’t until the fourth day of my marriage that I found out Grayson had fled the country for a “business trip,” a trip that lasted three months. The story of his blatant rejection spread like wildfire. Everyone in New York’s elite circles knew that the beautiful daughter the Langley family had pushed on the Fords couldn’t even keep her husband in their bed on their wedding night. The humiliation was… immense. Gritting my teeth, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I eyed his broad shoulders, his lean waist, the outline of his abs through his shirt. One evening, I found my chance and slipped something into his tea. We spent the night tangled together, a blur of skin and heat. The next morning, he woke up in a fury. “Aurora! Have you no shame? This is… this is coercion! You can’t just—” I crossed my legs, lounging against the headboard, and gave him a lazy, dismissive glance. “Please, Grayson. It’s called fulfilling your spousal duties. Besides, don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.” He was a mess of shame and indignation. “I’m warning you, Aurora. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will pull all funding from Langley Enterprises.” That got my attention. I immediately backed down, hopping out of bed. “Fine! Don’t sleep with me! It wasn’t that great anyway!” I, Aurora Langley, fear nothing. Except being broke. To seal this marriage, my father had reluctantly signed over thirty percent of his company’s shares to me. Threatening the family business was the one way to get to me. With Langley Enterprises still on shaky ground, I was living on Grayson’s dime. Pissing him off was not a good strategy. So, I decided to lay low and play the long game. And so, two years of our marriage passed. The numbers in my bank account grew exponentially with each passing day. Life without love but with plenty of money was a kind of blissful, hollow existence. It was certainly better than the years I’d spent after my parents, high on their first taste of success, had dumped me in a small town in the middle of nowhere to be raised by my grandmother. It was better than begging door-to-door in a storm to scrape together a few hundred dollars for her medication. I was done with the anxiety of wondering how we’d pay for things. I was done watching my grandmother’s trembling hands pull wrinkled dollar bills, one by one, from her old wooden box. From a very young age, I decided my life could be devoid of a soulmate, devoid of family, but it could never, ever be devoid of money. … Honestly, I truly did want to make things work with Grayson. That is, until his sainted ex showed up at our front door that night. Ava Cole held out the ruined shirt, her chin still tilted in that same posture of defiant pride. “Mr. Ford, just tell me how much it costs. I’ll pay you back in full.” Grayson, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a loose robe, paused at the sight of her standing in our doorway. His voice softened. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a shirt.” “Five thousand dollars. Cash or transfer?” I stepped out from behind him, plucking the shirt from her hand. A slow, deliberate smile spread across my face as I watched the color drain from hers. “Can’t afford it? That’s alright,” I purred. “I can just deduct it from your salary. Installments are fine.” … 2 “You went too far, Aurora! Do you need that five thousand dollars? Didn’t you see she was about to cry?” The second the door closed, Grayson’s anger was palpable, rivaling the morning after I’d drugged him. I sat down gracefully, taking a moment to admire my fresh manicure. “No, I don’t need the money. But why should I have to pay for her mistake?” “Her family is struggling, Aurora! That’s several months’ salary for her. She has a sick grandmother to support. How is she supposed to live?” “Is her financial situation my fault?” I countered, my voice dangerously calm. “If you know you can’t afford to make mistakes in life, you learn to be careful with everything you touch. Whether it’s a man… or a job.” Grayson was speechless for a moment. “You’re unbelievable,” he finally spat out, before storming upstairs to his study. The door slammed with a resounding crack. I just lowered my gaze to the wrinkled, unrecognizable shirt in my hands. He seemed to have forgotten. Two years ago, he’d developed a severe skin allergy. Even the finest custom-tailored fabrics irritated him. I had gone to a master tailor in Charleston, a man known for his work with a rare, limited-edition heritage silk. I’d bought the entire bolt. And then, with my own two hands, I had stitched that shirt for him, thread by thread. My carefully manicured fingers were pricked and raw by the end, but when I saw that rare flicker of genuine pleasure in his eyes, I felt the ridiculous, hands-on effort had been worth it. For a little while after that, our marriage had a hint of sweetness to it. But that was before Ava Cole’s return. Before I realized that Grayson—the man who treated me with such icy indifference, whose smiles felt like charity—could be so gentle with someone else. I never knew his eyes could hold that kind of warmth so effortlessly. I could faintly hear the low murmur of his voice through the closed study door, comforting her. It was quiet, but it grated on my nerves. A bitter laugh escaped me. I crushed the shirt in my fist and threw it into the trash can with a satisfying thud. A gift that isn’t cherished is meaningless, no matter the effort. Money, on the other hand, is loyal only to the person holding it. The next day, I called my friends and went on a marathon shopping spree. When I returned home, arms laden with bags from every designer on Fifth Avenue, I was stunned to find Ava Cole in my house. She was wearing a simple cotton dress, her hair in a low bun. Modest. Understated. An apron was tied around her waist. She was walking out of my kitchen, carrying a steaming tureen of what smelled like a hearty beef stew. 3 I stared at Grayson, who was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in some documents. I tried to rack my brain, wondering if I’d suffered some sort of memory loss. “What did I miss? When did we start the part of the show where you move into my house?” Ava’s eyes immediately welled with tears. She lifted her chin, her voice trembling with indignation. “Ms. Langley, does having money give you the right to bully people like this? You’re attacking my character and my dignity!” Grayson didn’t even look up from his papers. “You pushed her to the point where she was about to start delivering food to pay you back. That’s dangerous. You were never happy with the last housekeeper anyway. I told Ava she could work here instead.” “You have my word, Ms. Langley,” Ava said, regaining her composure and that infuriatingly righteous expression. “I will pay back the five thousand dollars as soon as possible. I won’t be in your debt for long.” “Hah.” I glanced at the stew on the dining table. “Did you bother to do any research before you started playing house? I’m allergic to mushrooms.” Ava flinched, but her face quickly settled back into a neutral mask. “Mr. Ford enjoys this recipe. If you don’t like it, Ms. Langley, you can have something else. I also made a salad.” “Tsk,” I clicked my tongue, applauding softly. “So, you’re paying off your debt to me with money you earn by waiting on my husband?” Ava’s face flushed. “You…” “That’s enough!” Grayson stood up, his face dark. “I asked her to come here. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop making things difficult for her.” “Grayson! She just appears out of nowhere at your company, and now she’s in our home! She is not here with good intentions!” I was losing my composure. A cold smirk crossed Grayson’s face. “Do you really think every woman is like you, Aurora? Don’t forget why you married me in the first place. This family, this company… I’m in charge of it all. And that includes your family’s little business.” The air crackled with silence. After a long moment, I burst out laughing. “Fine. You’re the boss.” I shrugged. “You two enjoy your dinner. I’m going out for martinis.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out, ignoring the stunned look on Grayson’s face. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ava. She was standing perfectly still, a look of pure, triumphant scorn directed right at me. … I drove aimlessly for a while before pulling over. I couldn’t explain the feeling. Seeing Grayson defend her left an ache in my chest, a hollow space that made it hard to breathe. I pulled out my phone. The screen was blank except for a single notification from my doctor’s office with my recent test results. Bored, I opened the file and started scrolling. When I got to the gynecology report, my eyes widened. Wait. Abnormal hCG levels? What did that mean? Was I… pregnant? My mind went into a tailspin. Last month, overcome by a rare wave of desire for him, I’d put on a silk slip and tried, with a little flourish, to seduce him. And now… this. As if on cue, a dull ache started in my lower abdomen, a phantom pain that felt like something was actually taking root. This baby… It was coming at the worst possible time. And the best possible time. A wave of melancholy washed over me. Because I had, in quiet moments, actually imagined… having a child with Grayson. 4 I had seen him once before, long before we were married. I was twelve, a year before my parents, who had finally struck it rich, remembered they had a daughter and brought me to New York. He had come with a team from his family’s foundation to donate supplies to the schools in our small town. He was only eighteen, but he moved with a quiet confidence. He was so handsome it made my heart ache. I saw him, and I never forgot him. So later, when my parents decided to trade me and Langley Enterprises’ most profitable division for an alliance with the Fords, I agreed. But he had always been cold to me. And our marriage was a business deal, tainted by ambition and money. There was never a moment for heartfelt confessions. There was never a chance to tell him I’d fallen for him when I was twelve. It was a shame, really. But then I thought, she’s the one who walked away from him. Why should I be the one to step aside now that she’s decided to waltz back into his life? If anyone should leave, it’s the expired ghost of his past. With that thought, I spun the car around and drove back, my foot heavy on the accelerator. The moment I opened the front door, I saw her. Ava was standing in the foyer, the house spotless behind her, as if she’d been waiting for me. She saw the storm on my face and a knowing look crossed hers. “Grayson already left for a meeting with a client.” She paused, her voice laced with condescension. “You really have a low opinion of me, don’t you, Ms. Langley? Did you think I would try to seduce him the moment you were gone? I’m not like you. I don’t do everything for money. If I did, you never would have had the chance to become Mrs. Ford.” She smiled, a cruel, cutting thing. “But a woman like you, who needs Grayson to survive… you must be terrified of losing him.” Her eyes flickered with amusement. “By the way, do you and Grayson sleep in separate rooms? I noticed while I was tidying up the master bedroom. Your side of the bed looks… untouched.” I ignored her, striding past her into the immaculate living room. My eyes landed on the coffee table. Sitting there, as if placed on display, was a single, gold-rimmed coffee cup. Used. A cold laugh escaped my lips. I swept the cup, the apron she’d worn, and a hairpin she’d “accidentally” left on the table into the nearest trash can. “Sorry, Ava. You’re fired. I don’t welcome people who help themselves to the owner’s private belongings. Nor do I welcome people who are obsessed with whether or not my husband is sleeping in the master bedroom.” I turned back to her. “Oh, and that coffee cup was part of a set worth twenty thousand dollars. I’ll expect you to reimburse me for the one you used. If you don’t, I won’t hesitate to file a police report.” Ava’s calm facade finally cracked. Her face was flushed with fury. “On what grounds? This is Grayson’s house! You can’t just throw me out!” I grabbed her arm and physically pushed her toward the door. “I can,” I said, my voice like ice. “Because I am Mrs. Ford.” 5 Night fell, and a cold rain began to pour. Ava remained outside the gates, a stubborn, pathetic statue in the downpour. I made myself a coffee and sat on the second-floor terrace, watching her, until Grayson’s car screeched into the driveway. He saw her there—the proud girl who had never bowed to anyone, now a tear-streaked mess locked out of his house—and his face contorted with rage. He looked up at me, his eyes burning with a hatred that chilled me to the bone. Without a second’s hesitation, he shrugged off his suit jacket, draped it over her trembling shoulders, and gently helped her into his car. And then I remembered. In two years of marriage, Grayson had never once let me ride in his car. I drove myself everywhere. Once, I’d been stranded on a back road outside the city during a torrential storm. The roads were flooding. Terrified, I’d called him, sobbing, but he’d hung up before I could even finish my sentence. So, this was the difference between love and the lack of it. … My phone rang, shattering the quiet. It was my mother, a woman I rarely heard from. She didn’t bother with a greeting. “The finance department at Langley just called. Grayson pulled the funding! The news just broke and our stock is already tanking. What in God’s name did you do to him?” I was silent for a moment. In the past, when I’d annoyed him, he’d threatened this. But he’d never actually done it. This time, he’d acted swiftly, without warning. I had clearly crossed a line. “Oh…” I said slowly, my voice devoid of any real concern. “I’ll figure something out.” She let out a theatrical sigh on the other end of the line. “Aurora, please, take this seriously. Your brother is about to take over the company. We can’t afford any problems. And don’t forget, you get a healthy dividend from Langley every month. Keeping him happy is keeping your own wallet happy, isn’t it?” She paused. “And whatever little tramp he has on the side, surely you can handle her. A woman with your looks?”

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I snuck into the city where my online boyfriend lives to surprise him. But instead of a romantic reunion, I overheard him talking trash with his boys: “What’s the use of a sexy voice if she won’t even send a pic? She’s definitely a troll.” “If the campus queen hadn’t rejected me, I wouldn’t waste my time sexting someone like that.” “It’s bad enough she’s probably ugly, but she’s thirsty as hell. Kept demanding to ‘verify the goods’ before we meet.” His friend laughed, “So you showed her?” My boyfriend smirked. “Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It was Xavier’s.” “Holy sh*t,” his friend gasped. “Your roommate? You said he was packing at least 8 inches. For real?” “Of course it’s real. Why would I lie?” “Xavier’s a real one. Saw I didn’t want to send nudes, so he offered to be my stunt double.” The group erupted in laughter. I laughed too. I’ve heard of hand doubles and leg doubles, but a “d*ck double”? That’s a first. I need this man’s file on my desk in three minutes. 1 I’m a “good girl.” Polite, modest, well-read, and respectful. Optimistic, cheerful, hardworking. Bullsh*t. That’s just the persona I maintain in front of the elders. The real me… Rebellious, spicy, wild at heart, petty, and definitely not to be messed with. And I have cravings. In every sense of the word. After high school graduation, I spent my days scrolling through hot guys on TikTok. Lean swimmers, golden retrievers, cold and aloof scholar types—liked and saved them all. Scrolling and scrolling, my heart started racing, and I got restless. So, I got myself an online boyfriend. Julian. One year older than me, currently in college. 6’0″ barefoot, broad shoulders, a tapered waist, abs you could grate cheese on. Most importantly, he’s allegedly packing 8 inches. I can’t believe I stumbled upon such a prime specimen. Life is good. Surprisingly, Julian turned out to be an upperclassman at the university I was about to attend. It felt like destiny. But Julian knew nothing about this. I kept it a secret because I wanted to surprise him when the semester started. To keep the mystery alive, I never sent him a face pic. Julian got annoyed about it, saying I wasn’t being sincere. He sounded so dejected on the phone. His hometown was just a city over from mine, less than thirty minutes by train. After thinking it over, I decided to just go find him. 2 To give me “security,” Julian reported everything to me. He even texted me where he was eating with his friends. Saved me the trouble of fishing for info. I followed the GPS and easily found the BBQ joint where they were hanging out. Among dozens of tables at the roadside stall, I spotted Julian instantly. He was even better looking in person than in his photos. It was midsummer, the wind was hot, and as it hit my face, my cheeks felt even hotter. I steadied my breathing and was about to walk up. Suddenly, Julian slammed his beer glass on the table, a mocking look in his eyes: “What’s the use of a sexy voice if she won’t even send a pic? She’s definitely a troll!” I stopped in my tracks. The blush on my face receded like a tide. Julian continued, “Just playing around. If the campus queen hadn’t rejected me and I wasn’t bored out of my mind, I wouldn’t even give her the time of day.” “It’s bad enough she’s probably ugly, but she’s thirsty as hell. Kept demanding I send nudes.” I pursed my lips, fists clenching involuntarily. Wait a minute. He was the one who bragged about his size and asked if I wanted to see. Why wouldn’t I look? Free show. Now he’s acting like I forced him? Amidst the jeering, someone asked, “So you showed her?” Julian smirked, looking proud. “Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It was Xavier’s.” “Holy sh*t,” his friend gasped. “Your roommate? You said he was packing at least 8 inches. For real?” Julian took a drag of his cigarette. “Of course it’s real. Why would I lie?” “Xavier’s a real one. Saw I didn’t want to send nudes, so he offered to be my stunt double.” The table went silent for a second, then burst into laughter. “Bro, I’m dead. So this relationship is superficially two people, but actually two people plus a…” More laughter. Julian frowned. “What relationship? It’s just sexting. She’s basically my dog. Once summer break is over, I’m kicking this ugly troll to the curb immediately.” Hearing Julian say these things again, I surprisingly didn’t feel much. Because right now, my mind was filled with that impactful photo. What was his name again? Oh, right. Xavier… 3 Sitting on the train back home, I started scrolling through Julian’s Instagram. But the guy was too narcissistic; he posted nothing but himself. I sighed. Looks like if I want to see what Xavier looks like, I’ll have to wait for school to start. I felt a pang of regret for a second, then opened TikTok to scroll through hot guys again. Just as I was about to arrive, I swiped onto a campus interview video. The topic was “Who is your campus heartthrob?” I wasn’t interested and was about to swipe away. But suddenly, I heard the name “Xavier.” The arrival announcement chimed. I turned up the volume on my earbuds as I walked out. I listened several times. I definitely didn’t mishear. And the university name matched. I thought back to that photo… Campus heartthrob Xavier. Pretty wild in private, huh? 4 As the semester approached, Julian grew colder. He took days to reply to messages. I gritted my teeth. If he wasn’t still useful to me, I would’ve blocked him ages ago. That night, looking at the one-sided chat log, I sent Julian a sticker, refusing to give up. This time, Julian replied quickly: “Hey, I don’t think we’re suitable. We can be friends, but let’s forget about dating.” I was lying on my bed with a face mask on, legs crossed. Seeing this message, my eyes lit up. I’ve been waiting for this day! I typed with a smirk: “Why? Did I do something wrong? Finger guns sticker” Julian replied: “No, don’t overthink it. It’s my problem.” I rolled my eyes silently. Classic f*ckboy line. Zero creativity. Inner monologue over, time to unleash my acting skills. Crying sticker “You don’t need to comfort me. I know I’m not good enough for you. You deserve a better girl. I wish you happiness.” Julian paused, his heart inexplicably twitching. A while later, he replied: “You’re great. Be confident, babe. It’s me who let you down.” “If you have any requests, just ask. I’ll fulfill them.” I got excited, ripped off my face mask, sat up straight, and voice-called Julian directly. When he picked up, I sniffled first, adding a hint of a sob to my voice. “Will you really agree to any request?” Julian gave a solemn “Mmhmm.” “Actually, I kind of know you’re not confident about your looks. Don’t worry, I don’t care. If you want to meet me, I can right now…” “Then introduce me to a new boyfriend.” I really didn’t have the patience to listen to his rambling anymore, so I interrupted. Julian froze. Three seconds later, he reacted: “Huh?” 5 I sighed. “Julian, actually, from the moment I saw your photo, I knew it was impossible for us.” “You’re so handsome. How could you like an ordinary girl like me? Being friends with you is already enough for me.” Julian, who was originally annoyed, instantly deflated. His vanity was satisfied, and he felt guilty at the same time. So he said, “Chloe, don’t belittle yourself. You’re great. I… I’ll introduce my roommate to you right now.” “He’s also very handsome. Many beautiful girls at our school chase him, but he rejected them all.” “This shows he doesn’t care about looks. You guys chat, maybe you’ll hit it off.” I stayed silent for a moment, then sighed softly. “Okay, I’ll try.” Then I asked casually, “By the way, what’s his name?” “Xavier. His name is Xavier.” Success! My eyes curved into crescents. I suppressed my excitement and steadied my breathing. “Okay, I’ll add him on WeChat first. Send me his contact.” “Julian, thank you.” Julian laughed. “Don’t mention it. Don’t forget, we’re friends now.”

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Preston Rhodes ran out on our wedding five years ago. He didn’t just get cold feet; he vanished. Now, he was back, standing in my office with a diamond ring in one hand and the audacity of a thousand men in the other, asking me to marry him. “Audrey, let’s make this official.” He gestured vaguely to the air, as if swatting away a minor inconvenience. “Bella gave me a son. My grandfather had to accept her into the fold because of the bloodline. The three of us… we can make this work.” He held the ring up, twirling it between his fingers with a bored elegance. “Bella doesn’t have your pedigree, obviously. I didn’t have a choice.” I looked up from the quarterly financial reports spread across my mahogany desk, staring at him as if he were a rare, fascinatingly stupid insect. Did this man miss the last century of social progress? Did he think he was living in a feudal fantasy because he forgot his medication this morning? He caught my stare and offered a smirk that was equal parts condescension and charm. “Why are you playing dress-up in this CEO role, Audrey? You should take a page out of Bella’s book. Give me a son. That’s the only legacy that matters.” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. Listening to him pontificate about male heirs and domestic submission was like inhaling toxic fumes. I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Legacy is just a bedtime story insecure men tell themselves to feel important, Preston.” I closed the folder with a snap. “Tomorrow, I’m initiating the hostile takeover of Rhodes Enterprises. If you’re going to work delivery to make ends meet, try not to be late. My time is money.” 1 Preston had always been arrogant. He hated nothing more than being ignored. He snatched the report from my hands, his voice dropping to a growl. “You will never be half the woman Bella is, simply because you don’t know how to be soft. What kind of woman treats her future husband like furniture?” When he saw my smile vanish, replaced by a glacial stare, he softened his tone, pivoting to manipulation. “Look, I know you’re hurt. But men of my status… we have needs. We have options. It’s the way the world works.” He sighed, feigning the burden of nobility. “I know you’re still hung up on me leaving the wedding. But Bella was showing. I couldn’t hide it. I had to be there for the birth. You can’t hold a grudge against a mother and child.” When Preston fled five years ago, I threw myself into the wreckage of my family’s company. I didn’t have time for romance or heartbreak. Hearing these archaic justifications now, unearthed like dinosaur bones, I felt absolutely nothing. “You have thick skin, Preston. You think this is the 1950s? You think I’m going to sign up for a sister-wife arrangement?” Preston kicked his feet up onto my desk, crossing his ankles in his signature playboy sprawl. “Audrey, five years and you’re still so naive. In our circle, every powerful man has a side arrangement. The Sinclair family needs to save face, right? We’ll get the marriage license after I introduce Bella to Grandfather. You’ll be the official Mrs. Rhodes. That title belongs to you.” He leaned back, examining his fingernails. “Besides, holding it all together while I was gone… it must have been exhausting. I’ve always said, running a conglomerate isn’t women’s work. Pack it up, Audrey. Go home. Cook me dinner.” He leaned in, trying to turn on the charm, attempting to brush my cheek. I recoiled as if he were radioactive. Feeling my revulsion, Preston’s mask slipped. “Audrey Sinclair. Stop acting like a pristine saint. Take the damn ring. Do you really think you’re some untouched virgin goddess anymore?” The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “It sounds like you know exactly what happened to me, Preston.” For a split second, he looked like he’d swallowed his tongue. Five years ago. The engagement party. Preston vanished. That same night, a catastrophic explosion ripped through the Sinclair main distribution center. Inventory destroyed. Lives lost. Crushed by the humiliation of being left at the altar and the devastation of my family’s business, I spent my nights drowning in bourbon. And then, one rainy night, in a haze of alcohol and grief, I was assaulted by a stranger. After it was over, the man—satisfied and cruel—whispered the truth. It was Preston. To force his family to accept Bella, he needed to devalue me. He paid for the sabotage at the factory. He paid the man to assault me. The goal was simple: drag the Sinclair name through the mud so we couldn’t sue for breach of contract, and drag me down to the gutter so I was no “better” than his mistress. I remembered lying by the window that night, staring at the rain, debating whether to jump. But I didn’t. Instead, I buried the girl I was. I took over the failing company. I fought in the trenches of Wall Street. Not for love. Not for happiness. But so my parents, with their graying hair and bowed heads, could look the world in the eye again. “Audrey, stop fighting it,” Preston said, his voice low. “I’m back. I’ll take care of the money. What else could you possibly want?” He reached out, grabbing my chin, trying to force a kiss. I didn’t think. I reacted. The slap echoed through the office like a gunshot. I slammed my hand on the security button. “If you see this man again,” I told the security team as they dragged him out, “throw him into the street.” Preston didn’t scream. He just smirked. “You’re fiery, Audrey. I’m the only one who can handle that. The ring is yours. I’ll wait for you to come to your senses.” Being thrown out didn’t stop him. For days, my office turned into a florist shop. Jewelry arrived by the crate. Lunch was delivered from his restaurants, a different menu every day. The notes were always the same condescending scrawl: Come back when you’re done playing boss. I didn’t even blink. I told my assistant to trash it all and block his number. We were in the final stages of acquiring Rhodes Enterprises. Negotiations and board meetings consumed my life. Preston Rhodes was a fossil, a relic of a life I had discarded. He meant less to me than the dust on my laptop screen. Just when I thought he’d given up, a text came through from a new number. Fine. You want to end the engagement? Come to the Rhodes Estate. It’s the only way you’re getting the contract back. The engagement contract? I almost laughed. It was a worthless piece of paper. But I was curious. I wanted to see the final act of his circus. The next evening, I walked into the Rhodes family manor. Preston was there, sitting on the velvet sofa. Next to him was the woman—Bella. She looked small, fragile, clutching a baby to her chest like a shield. Preston’s eyes raked over my tailored suit and short skirt. A smug smile tugged at his lips. “Audrey. You made it.” He stood, moving to wrap an arm around me. I sidestepped him effortlessly. He leaned in, whispering, “That skirt… remarkably short. Trying to get a reaction out of me?” I gave him a look that would wilt flowers. He cleared his throat, pivoting to the room at large. “Audrey, I brought you here to settle things. Bella is gentle. She’s sweet. You’re… ambitious. Capable. You two will be like sisters. One big, happy family.” Sisters? Happy family? The absurdity washed over me. He was still hallucinating. He actually believed that after the betrayal, the sabotage, the rape, I would settle for being the matriarch of his twisted harem. “Preston,” I said, cutting off his delusion. “Is your brain still buffering? We aren’t family. Give me the contract so I can leave. The air in here is stale.” Preston’s face darkened. The charming façade crumbled. Before he could speak, Bella tugged on his sleeve. Her voice was a breathy whimper. “Preston, don’t fight for me… She just… she can’t accept her place…” It was a masterclass in manipulation, pouring gasoline on Preston’s fragile ego. He slammed his hand on the table. “Audrey! Don’t be ungrateful! Bella has ten times the grace you do. You walked through that door, so you follow my rules.” He pointed a shaking finger at the floor. “Bella, sit.” Then he turned to me, his eyes manic. “You. Kneel. Pour Bella tea. Apologize for your attitude. Or you don’t leave this house.” Kneel? Serve tea to the mistress? I looked at Preston’s twisted face, then at Bella’s triumphant smirk hidden behind false tears. I didn’t feel anger. I felt a profound, icy contempt. I stood my ground and smiled. “Preston. You really think you have the leverage here?” “You want me to kneel? There isn’t a single brick in this house that the Sinclair Group doesn’t effectively own right now. I haven’t foreclosed yet out of pity.” “And as for the tea…” My eyes slid to Bella. “She doesn’t have the pedigree to accept a cup of water from me, let alone tea. It might shorten her life expectancy.” “You bitch!” Preston roared. Veins bulged in his neck. He raised his hand, stepping forward. I didn’t flinch. I took a step toward him. “Go ahead. Strike me. Let’s see what makes the front page of the Journal tomorrow: Rhodes Stock crash, or the last shred of your reputation obliterated?” Preston floundered, scanning the room for a weapon, desperate to assert dominance. “Fine. Fine! You need to learn a lesson. The old ways are best. You need a stick to learn respect!” “Respect?” I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Your version of respect is bankrupting your family to fund your affairs?” “Silence!” he screamed. “You’re drunk! Look at you, loose, drinking with men at business dinners… you need discipline!” “Drunk?” I had one glass of wine at a gala before coming here. Bella shrank into the sofa. “Preston… maybe she had too much… it’s hard for a woman alone with all those businessmen…” She framed me as a slut with surgical precision. Preston was panting now, consumed by sexual jealousy and inadequacy. “Who were you with? Which man? I’m not dead yet, Audrey! You’re cheating on me?” It was pathetic. “Preston,” I said, my voice calm and sharp as a scalpel. “Instead of worrying about who I drink with, maybe worry about your liquidity? Worry about the three subsidiaries bleeding cash? Worry about the bank calling your father?” He looked blank. He knew nothing. He was a prince of nothing, signing papers he didn’t read. “You… you’re lying!” “Ask your grandfather. You’re a parasite, Preston. sucking the life out of your ancestors’ legacy while you play house with your little bird.” “Shut up! Shut up!” Humiliated in front of Bella, stripped of his delusions, Preston snapped. His eyes locked onto an antique ebony walking stick mounted by the fireplace—a heavy, brutal thing used for ‘family discipline’ in the darker chapters of the Rhodes history. He ripped it off the wall. “You disobey your husband! You act like a whore! I will execute the family law myself!” Bella gasped, covering her mouth, but her eyes were glittering with excitement. I watched him advance, swinging the cane like a madman. The fear was gone. Only rage remained. “Preston, if that stick touches me, the Rhodes family ceases to exist by sunrise.” He hesitated, the cane hovering. Then, the madness took over completely. “Family law? You’re insane,” I spat. “You drove me to this!” he shrieked. “Guards! Hold her!” Two burly house staff entered. They hesitated, looking at me—a CEO, a public figure—but Preston’s unhinged screaming terrified them. “She’s my fiancée! It’s a domestic matter! Hold her down or you’re fired!” “Don’t you dare,” I warned. But the men, fearing for their jobs, grabbed my arms. They forced me to my knees on the cold marble. My blazer tore. Buttons popped from my silk blouse, exposing my shoulder and bra strap. “Look at you,” Preston sneered, looming over me. “Disheveled. Reeking of alcohol. Just like those women in the clubs.” “You dress like a slut, you get treated like one.” Bella chimed in, soft and poisonous. “Preston… she lived abroad… maybe she’s used to being… loose…” “Loose? It’s depraved!” Preston raised the heavy ebony cane. “I’m going to beat the defiance out of you. I’ll teach you what a husband is!” He swung. The wood cracked against my back. The pain was blinding. It stole the air from my lungs. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. Crack. A second blow. Crack. A third. The pain was a fire spreading through my nerves. The staff looked away, ashamed, but nobody moved. The sound of wood hitting flesh echoed in the silent mansion. My sweat turned cold. Blood began to soak through the silk of my blouse. I lay pinned to the floor, my body seizing with every strike. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t beg. I didn’t cry. I lifted my head, shaking, and locked eyes with him. My gaze was a weapon. “Have you had enough? Will you submit?” Preston was panting, sweat dripping down his face, pointing the cane at my nose. “Agree to the marriage. Be a good wife. And I’ll stop.” I spit a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the pristine floor. My voice was a raspy whisper, but it carried. “Preston… go to hell.” His eyes went wide with fury. He raised the cane high for a finishing blow— The heavy oak doors of the parlor groaned open. A voice, old and trembling with horror, shattered the moment. “Ms. Sinclair?! What… what in God’s name is happening here?!”

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My arms-dealer father brought home a pair of twin bodyguards from an underground fighting ring. My sister, Vivian, chose the brother who fawned over her. That left me with the other one, the silent one with expressive mutism. I knew that rejected bodyguards were thrown back into the fighting pits to fend for themselves, so my soft heart got the better of me, and I took him in. He couldn’t speak, so I found doctors and therapists for him. He was an outcast, bullied by the others for his quiet nature, so I trained twice as hard, beating down anyone who dared to lay a hand on him. I spent my nights learning sign language and psychology, desperate for a way to connect with him. I thought my devotion would earn his undying loyalty. Until the night of the botched arms deal, when he watched as both Vivian and I were trapped by the flames. He didn’t hesitate. He ran to her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice clear. “I can’t let anything happen to Vivi.” His mutism had been cured long ago. As the explosion consumed me, he looked at me, and his lips formed the words: “I owe you this life. I’ll repay you in the next.” I opened my eyes and was back on the day we chose our bodyguards. … A stinging pain in my palm snapped me back to reality. The crescent-shaped wounds my nails had dug into my skin were a grim reminder that this was not a dream. My sister glanced at me, then wrapped her arm around our father’s, her voice a sweet poison. “Daddy, it looks like sister is still thinking. Why don’t you let me choose first?” Under our father’s doting gaze, she preened like a peacock, her eyes flitting between the two brothers, Zane and Kael. “I think I’ll choose Kael,” she announced, though her eyes had been fixed on Zane the whole time. “Sister is such a loner. She needs a bodyguard who knows how to read people.” I watched her performance, my mind replaying the scene from my past life. She’d said the exact same thing then, pretending to be considerate by offering me the more outgoing brother, Zane. She knew I would fall for it. She knew my heart was too soft. Back then, her act had worked. I’d not only let her have Zane but had taken the silent, brooding Kael under my wing. It wasn’t until the fire, when she cried for the brothers to save me first but held her hand out to Kael, that I finally understood. Zane, her sworn protector, was right beside her. The exit was closer to her. But she had always been certain I would yield, that my compassion was a weakness to be exploited. She got what she wanted and a reputation for being selfless. But this time, I met her confident gaze. “I’ll do as you say, sister.” The smile on Vivian’s face froze. She wasn’t the only one in shock. Kael’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No,” our father interjected. “Vivian, you’re fragile. You need the stronger protection. Kael has a speech impediment. He’s not suitable.” I understood. Father had already decided. This whole charade of letting us choose was just for show. “Daddy, let’s let sister choose first…” Vivian began, putting on her sweet, obedient daughter mask again. But Kael cut her off. “Sir, my speech impediment has been cured.” In my past life, Kael hadn’t spoken a word until the moment I died. But now? His eyes were no longer vacant. They were filled with a sharp, hidden pain as they met my scrutinizing gaze. So, he was reborn too. Watching his desperate attempt to be chosen, I thought of his last words to me—I’ll repay you in the next—and a bitter, ironic laugh threatened to escape my lips. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want him anyway. Father didn’t respond. In a blur of motion, Kael moved. One of the elite guards standing by my father’s side was on the ground, neutralized, in the span of a single breath. A flicker of surprise crossed my father’s face. Vivian beamed. She had always preferred Kael’s cold, aloof beauty. If not for his diagnosis, he would have been her first choice. Finally, my father nodded. “Very well. Kael, you will be with Vivian. As for Zane…” “He’ll be with Aria.” The silent Zane’s brow furrowed. He dropped to one knee, his voice tight and strained. “Sir, I cannot obey this command.” “You refuse?” My father’s face darkened. He might favor Vivian, but I was still his daughter. A bodyguard’s public refusal was a direct challenge to his authority. “Then you can crawl back to the fighting pits. The Smith family has no use for disobedient dogs.” I knew this would happen. A bodyguard who wasn’t chosen was discarded. In my past life, I couldn’t bear to see Kael sent back to die, so I kept him. This time, it was Zane’s turn. I stood by, a silent spectator. Vivian, however, was panicking. She rushed to Zane’s side, reaching for his arm, but he subtly moved away. She stomped her foot, her voice a petulant whine. “Zane, if you don’t go with my sister, they’ll beat you to death!” Zane looked up, his eyes burning with a fierce, unwavering loyalty. “My life’s only purpose is to serve you, Miss Vivian!” A blush crept up Vivian’s cheeks. I let out a soft laugh. This display of blind devotion was just as pathetic the second time around. “Sister!” Vivian whirled on me, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Are you just going to stand there and watch him die?” From the brothers’ perspective, she must have looked like a tragic, beautiful angel. I took a step forward. “Father, since Zane is so loyal to my sister, why not let them both serve her? One is good, but two is better. Vivian’s safety is what matters most.” My words were exactly what she wanted to hear. From the moment the twins had arrived, she had been torn, unable to choose. Father hesitated. “Aria, what about you?” I lowered my head, playing the part of the dutiful, self-sacrificing older sister. “It’s fine, Father. I’m the older sister. I should give way to Vivian.” Suddenly, every gaze in the room was filled with approval. A smile touched my father’s lips. “Aria, you’ve matured.” “However,” he continued, “things are unstable right now. Our enemies are watching. It’s not safe for you to be without protection.” I looked up, meeting his approving gaze and catching the complex emotion in Kael’s eyes. I didn’t care enough to decipher it. “If you’re worried, Father, you can send me to work with my cousin. I won’t cause any trouble for the family.” In my past life, I had no foundation in this family, so I had poured all my energy into saving Kael. Vivian was born when I was five. To ensure she was the sole recipient of their affection, my parents had sent me to live with distant relatives. It was only two years ago, when the family needed to manage some bad press, that my father brought me back. My cousin, who ran the family’s overseas arms trade, always brought Vivian limited-edition bags and jewelry when he came home. Even her nanny was treated better than I was. The money for Kael’s medical treatments had come from my own meager allowance, saved penny by penny. This time, I knew better than anyone: if I wanted to escape being a pawn, I had to seize every opportunity to build my own power. My cousin was cold and dismissive, assigning me to a low-level position in his company. I didn’t complain. I poured every waking moment into my work. Using my knowledge from my previous life, I quickly mastered the business, even seizing an opportunity everyone else had written off, landing a massive contract for the company. That success finally caught my cousin’s attention. He summoned me for a formal meeting. “There’s an important business dinner tonight. You’re coming with me.” The banquet was a sea of influential figures. My cousin introduced me to several key partners. “This is my uncle’s daughter, Aria Smith.” I was poised and articulate, my insights into the business impressing many. Soon, the rumor of the capable elder Miss Smith spread through the circle, eclipsing my sister, who was known only for her frivolous lifestyle. That night, when I returned to the Smith villa, Vivian stormed into my room the moment I opened the door. “Sister, you should just stay quietly at home.” I glanced at her. Her voice was sharp. “The Smith family business is run by men. As daughters, our greatest contribution is to marry well. Cousin has helped you, but your foundation is weak. If you mess up, you’ll not only bring shame to the family, you might lose your value as a marriage asset.” I responded coldly, “Vivian, by what right do you presume to plan my future?” I stepped closer, my gaze like steel. “You’ve enjoyed everyone’s favor your entire life. Does my carving out a path for myself threaten you that much?” “Sister…” Her face flushed, and she glanced at Zane, who stood guard behind her. Her eyes immediately welled with tears. “I know, it’s all my fault… If it weren’t for me, Mom and Dad would never have sent you away.” “Save your tears,” I snapped. “You’re not the one who should be crying.” “After you were born, they threw me away like trash so you could have everything. With those so-called relatives, I was beaten, starved, and almost assaulted. I escaped and survived on the streets like a stray dog!” I backed her toward the door, my voice a low snarl. “You can continue being the perfect little princess. No one is going to take that from you. But you will not tell me how to live my life!” “Sister, that’s not what I meant,” she sobbed, grabbing my sleeve. “I really do care about you. I want to make it up to you. Why won’t you let me… I might as well just die.” She made a show of running toward the window. Zane caught her, pulling her into a protective embrace. He glared at me. “Miss Aria! Miss Vivian has a pure heart. Do you want to push her to her death?” Vivian sobbed in his arms. “It’s not sister’s fault… It’s all my fault. I owe her…” Zane held her tighter, his eyes burning with anger at me. “Apologize to Miss Vivian.” I scoffed. “And who are you to command me?” Zane’s lips tightened, but before he could speak, I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. Vivian shrieked, “Sister, how dare you hit him!” My voice was ice. “I thought you were the expert on rules and etiquette, sister. Why can’t you control your own dog? A mere bodyguard, speaking out of turn to the eldest daughter of the house?” A flicker of rage crossed Zane’s eyes, but my colder gaze froze him in place. Kael, drawn by the commotion, arrived just in time to see it. He looked at me as if I were a stranger. I had no desire to waste any more time on these three. I pushed them out of my room and slammed the door. The next day, I was packing for a business trip, eager to escape the suffocating drama of this house. I had just finished dressing when my door was slammed open. Zane burst in, his eyes bloodshot and frantic. He grabbed my wrist. “What did you do to Miss Vivian? She ran out last night and never came back!” My face hardened. I twisted out of his grip, using his own momentum against him and kicking his knee, breaking his hold. “You are Vivian’s bodyguard. Her disappearance is your failure! Don’t come here taking your incompetence out on me.” “This is your fault!” Zane’s eyes were red with a desperate fury. “If you hadn’t provoked her yesterday, she wouldn’t have run off!” “Before our father finds out, you’re coming with me to find her and apologize!” The door was kicked open again. Kael rushed in. “Zane, the kidnappers just called. They have Miss Vivian.” Zane’s eyes narrowed, pinning me with a vicious glare. “The kidnappers want a daughter of the Smith family. You caused this mess. You will be the one to take her place.” “You’re insane!” I snarled, slapping him again. “Useless waste of space. You can’t even protect your own master, and you dare to lay a hand on me!” Zane spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes dark with malice as he grabbed my wrist again, his grip like iron. “Forgive me, Miss Aria. Miss Vivian’s life is at stake. I have no choice.” He twisted my arms behind my back. “Kael, help me!” Kael hesitated for a split second before moving to assist.

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On the way home from another day of bullying, I found a notebook with no name on it. I decided to use it as a diary, writing down the hell I was going through. Suddenly, the notebook wrote back. “Go to Northside High. Find Luke Vance. He will help you.” 1 July 26, 2009. Wednesday. Overcast. Today, Chloe and Jessica forced me to kneel on broken glass. They tore my clothes. They took photos. I cried and begged, but it didn’t matter. It only made them worse. My throat is raw from screaming, and there isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t hurt. I cried to my parents, but they said we’re poor. We can’t afford a better life. We can’t offend them because their families have money. They have parents who protect them. Even the teachers and the principal listen to them. Why don’t I? I don’t want to be bullied anymore. I want someone to protect me too. I ran my fingers over the bloodstains and tear marks on the page. I put down the pen. My knees were throbbing. The iodine my parents applied stung just as bad. Suddenly, the notebook moved. Words began to appear on the paper. “Don’t cry. Go to Northside High, Senior Class 3. Find Luke Vance. He can protect you.” I stared blankly at the words forming before my eyes. It wasn’t a hallucination. The handwriting was bold and forceful, like a boy’s. I picked up my pen and wrote: “Who are you?” “Doesn’t matter. Just find Luke. He’ll help you.” “Oh wait, it’s 2009. You need to tell him something specific.” “What?” I wrote. “Tell him: ‘I won’t eat cake ever again.’” I stared at the sentence, completely confused. If the physical pain wasn’t so sharp, I would have thought I was dreaming. After that, no matter what I wrote, the notebook didn’t reply. 2 The next day, I got on the 952 bus. The notebook was in my bag. This wasn’t the route to my school. I was going to Northside High. Just to see. To try. When you’re desperate, you grasp at anything, no matter how ridiculous. The words in the notebook were my only hope. Before leaving, I slipped a folding knife into my bag. Northside High wasn’t far from my school, Eastside High. It was the best high school in the state. I got off the bus and walked straight in. Luckily, we were all high schoolers, and the uniforms looked similar enough. Security didn’t stop me. I stumbled my way to the senior hallway and found Class 3. “Who are you looking for?” A boy standing by the door asked curiously. I gripped my backpack straps, keeping my head down. “I’m looking for Luke Vance.” “Luke’s not here. Try again later, kid.” He turned to go back inside, but I grabbed his arm. “Wait… can you tell me where he is? It’s urgent.” The boy hesitated, seeing how anxious I was. “At this time? Probably still awake from an all-nighter at the internet cafe. Try the breakfast joint on the street behind the school.” I bowed quickly. “Thank you.” The boy stepped back, waving his hands. “Whoa, no need for that.” Following his directions, I found the street behind the school. It was bustling with vendors. I watched the students passing by, wanting to turn and run a hundred times. Coming here based on a magical notebook? Impulsive. Maybe I was losing my mind. But then the memories of them dragging me by my hair into the boys’ bathroom flashed in my mind. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I was already here. Even the smallest hope was worth a shot. I spotted the breakfast joint on the corner. A few students in uniform were eating inside. In the corner sat a boy with bleached blonde hair. He looked like a delinquent. I twisted the hem of my shirt and walked up to a group of students. “Excuse me… do you know Luke Vance?” They paused. Suddenly, the blonde boy in the corner looked up. His eyes were bloodshot. “Why are you looking for me?” 3 I froze. Short sleeves. A tattoo on his neck. A scar across the bridge of his nose. Even with the scar, which most would call a disfigurement, he was unfairly handsome. It just added a dangerous edge to his look. But handsome or not… He definitely didn’t look like a model student at a top high school. Luke leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, looking reckless. Just like the “bad news” teachers warned us about. I instinctively wanted to run. Then I remembered the notebook. Would he really help me? “Cat got your tongue?” Luke slurped some noodles, then glared at me. “If you got nothing to say, get lost. You’re ruining my appetite.” I gritted my teeth, walked over, and sat opposite him. Under his scrutiny, I stammered, “I… I’m being bullied. Someone told me you could help…” “Hah.” Luke scoffed before I could finish. “You got the wrong guy. Help you? Who the hell told you to find me? Everyone at Northside knows I’m the one doing the bullying.” “Go back and cut ties with whoever told you that. They’re messing with you.” I bit my lip, remembering the notebook. “He said… if I told you one sentence, you’d help me.” “What sentence?” “Tell him: ‘I won’t eat cake ever again.’” Luke froze mid-bite. He looked up, his gaze turning ice cold. I shrank back in fear. Just as I thought he might hit me, he stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Let’s go.” I blinked. “Where?” “You wanted help, right? I’ll go kill them for you. Good?” He looked back at me. My scalp tingled. I waved my hands frantically. “I… I just wanted protection, not murder…” “Oh.” Luke nodded. He raised his arm, and I noticed he was wearing a watch that looked like a woman’s style. “How do you want protection? Bodyguard style? 24/7?” He turned back, the sunlight catching his grin. It was beautiful. I opened my mouth but couldn’t say a word. 4 Luke walked me to the gate of Eastside High. Seeing the school made my chest tighten like a giant hand was squeezing it. I couldn’t breathe. “Wait here a sec.” Luke ruffled his hair and walked off. I gritted my teeth and walked through the gate. The security guard glanced at me. “Exams are coming up. Stop hanging around with those thugs.” I didn’t answer. In the hallway, every student passing by made my skin crawl. I flinched at every accidental touch. When I entered the classroom, the noise died instantly. Chloe turned around and snickered. “Oh, look, Maya’s here! I thought you wouldn’t dare show up today.” Her laugh made my body go rigid. Fear flooded my veins. “What are you doing standing there? Get in!” The teacher shoved me from behind. I stumbled to my seat. “Exams are around the corner! Focus!” the teacher barked. My seat was in the back row. As soon as I sat down, Chloe turned around. She gave me a look of pure malice. I saw her mouth the words clearly. “Don’t leave after school.” … I rubbed the cover of my textbook, watching the seconds tick by. Every second, my heart sank lower. The nightmare… was coming back. I pulled the notebook out of my bag and reread the conversation. I thought of Luke. Would he come back? The bell rang. School was out. “Focus on your studies!” the teacher reminded us one last time before leaving. Chloe stood up and turned to face me. Luke didn’t come. I thought despairingly. No one is going to protect me. 5 Chloe cornered me. “Little bitch, you told the teacher, didn’t you?” She kicked me. I fell to the floor. Pain shot through me, bringing a cold sweat. “I… I didn’t tell anyone.” “Bullshit.” Jessica walked up behind Chloe, glaring at me. “If you didn’t tell, why did the teacher call me to the office?” “Little bitch, you didn’t learn your lesson yesterday?” Jessica grabbed my hair. From pain to numbness, I knelt on the floor, tears streaming down my face. They seemed to enjoy my suffering. “Scream louder!” Jessica pulled a black plastic bag from her backpack. She shook it in front of my terrified face, laughing. A crunching sound came from inside. “Kneeling didn’t teach you enough yesterday. Today, you eat it.” I realized instantly. The bag was full of broken glass. “No!” I scrambled up and shoved Chloe hard. Then I ran like my life depended on it. “You bitch! You dare push me?!” Before I could reach the door, a hand grabbed my hair and dragged me back toward the boys’ bathroom. “Run! Keep running!” Jessica pried my mouth open. Chloe opened the bag, ready to pour the glass down my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut in terror and despair. Praying for it to be over quickly. I trembled, waiting for the pain. But it never came. “You dare touch my person?” A familiar voice. I opened my eyes. Through the blur of tears, I saw Luke. He had dyed his hair black and changed into our school uniform. A cigarette dangled from his lips. He crushed the cigarette against the wall.

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I confessed to Julian seventeen times. Each time, he rejected me without hesitation. Just as I was about to give up, I accidentally stumbled into his room. The cold walls were plastered with my photos. On his bed lay a body pillow with my image. A whiteboard meticulously tracked my interactions and intimacy levels with every guy I knew. I froze on the spot. Seriously? After all this, he still has the nerve to say he doesn’t love me? So, I pretended not to know and sent him two messages. “Mr. Vance, I’ve thought it through. I won’t bother you anymore.” “By the way, I have a kissing scene tomorrow. Want to come give me some pointers?” 1 My dad sold me to Julian Vance. His company was on the verge of bankruptcy, and in desperation, he came up with the brilliant idea of selling his daughter. The Vance family is old money, famous in elite circles. Dad went straight to them. At first, he tried to sell me to the eldest son. The eldest son was already married, but my dad didn’t care. He said rich guys always have a wife at home and a side chick outside. So basically, he wanted me to be a mistress. I obviously refused, crying snot and tears at the Vance family gate. Maybe my crying face was too ugly, because the eldest son wasn’t interested. Instead, the reclusive second son, Julian, looked down at me. His face was cold, features sharp, eyes dark and distant. I had heard rumors about him. He was the black sheep of the family. Antisocial, weird, always alone. Even his father disliked him. My dad had no hope with him and was dragging me away, but Julian stopped us. He leaned down slightly and asked eighteen-year-old me: “Do you want to come with me?” I don’t know what I was thinking at the time. Maybe I was just tired of being pawned off by my dad. Or maybe Julian was just really, really good-looking. So, I nodded and asked: “Can I?” 2 Julian gave my dad a huge sum of money and took me back to his villa. I assumed I was his trophy bird in a gilded cage, but something was off about him. He spent a fortune to keep me, fed me well, treated me well, but never touched me. Our rooms weren’t even on the same floor. I lived in the sunny master bedroom on the second floor. He lived in the dark, damp basement. At first, I thought he was waiting for me to get older. But after two years, when I turned twenty, he still showed no interest. I figured maybe he was shy, so I decided to take the initiative. I put on a white dress, channeling that innocent “first love” vibe, showing off my collarbone and arms, and greeted him at the door. Julian just frowned, took off his suit jacket, and wrapped me up like a burrito. “You’ll catch a cold wearing so little.” Then he walked straight to the basement without looking back. I didn’t give up. The next day, I posed seductively on the sofa, giving him “come hither” eyes while slowly lifting my shirt to show off my abs. Julian pursed his lips and asked, confused, “Why isn’t the AC on if it’s so hot?” The third time, I put on perfume and threw myself into his arms. He leaned down, his breath tickling my ear. Just as the mood was getting steamy, he asked: “Did you not shower? You smell weird.” … It was like winking at a blind man. So, I decided to be direct. 3 The day I confessed to Julian was a normal weekend. During dinner, I told him I liked him. I thought he’d say yes. After all, he was so good to me. He never hesitated to give me money. When I said I wanted to be an actress, he set me up with an agency and resources immediately. But just as I was feeling confident, Julian’s spoon paused. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Don’t let it happen again.” I thought he was just being dense, but he really rejected me. I cried under my blanket that day, heart-wrenching sobs until the sun went down. I didn’t understand. If he didn’t like me, why keep me? Why be so good to me? It’s easy for a naive girl to fall for that, okay? But I am persistent. After crying, I confessed seventeen more times. Each time with a different speech, full of deep emotion. I refused to believe he wouldn’t be moved. But he really wasn’t. He rejected me ruthlessly every time, saying there was no possibility between us. Even though I liked him, after being rejected seventeen times, I lost hope. I realized he was a stone that couldn’t be warmed. That night, Julian went on a business trip. I was sitting on the stairs, hugging my knees and crying, when a snake suddenly slithered past me. I jumped. I remembered seeing a small snake when I first moved in. I was terrified, and Julian had the whole villa fumigated. I hadn’t seen a snake in years. Where did this one come from? Cold sweat dripped down my back as I watched it. It went downstairs to the basement, straight to a door, and slipped through the crack. That was Julian’s bedroom. If a snake got into his bed… Just thinking about it gave me goosebumps. I wanted to go in, but I remembered Julian’s rule. He never let anyone into his room, not even the housekeeper. He always locked it when he left. Maybe he was in a rush today and forgot. Hesitating, I grabbed a stick and pushed the door open, thinking of the snake. But what I saw froze me in place. 4 Julian’s room was minimalist gray. But the wall facing me was covered in photos. Photos of me. From when I was eighteen entering the house until now. Different times, places, expressions. Some were from my Instagram, some were selfies I sent to tease him, and some were candid shots I didn’t even know he took. My eyes widened in shock. Then I looked at the whiteboard next to the wall. It was filled with Julian’s bold handwriting. “Greg, college classmate. Chats with Ranran every few days. Average looks, no threat.” “Zhou, record label owner. Frequent ‘accidental’ meetings. Ulterior motives. Handled. No threat.” “Xie, obsessive fan. Stalked Ranran. Reported to police. In jail. No threat.” … It detailed every interaction I had with the opposite sex. Every name had an X next to it, except the last line. “Perry, male lead in Ranran’s new drama. Rising star, clean record, good looking, popular with women. High threat.” Note: “Likes to message Ranran. Minimize contact outside of filming.” I stared at the board dumbfounded. He was… investigating me? If he didn’t like me, why do this? Why block me from other guys? I suddenly remembered college. Guys chased me, but after Julian visited, they’d all distance themselves. Could Julian actually like me? My heart pounded. I scanned the room and my eyes landed on his bed. It was neat, but the pillow was out of place. It was a body pillow. With a life-sized print of me on it. My face burned instantly. I imagined him sleeping with that pillow every night. I thought he was a gentleman. Turns out he’s a pervert. But if he likes me this much, why reject me? I couldn’t figure it out. The snake slithered out the window while I was staring. I looked at the wall of photos and remembered his rejection today. “Ranran, I’m not interested in you. I just see you as a sister. Stop thinking like that.” Who makes a body pillow of their sister? What a pretender. I pretended I saw nothing and quietly left his room. Looking at the sunny sky outside, I let out a long breath. Then I took out my phone and sent him two messages. [Mr. Vance, I’ve thought it through. I won’t bother you anymore.] [By the way, I have a kissing scene with Perry tomorrow. Want to come give me some pointers?]

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Here is the translation and adaptation of the short story, localized for a Western audience with the requested formatting and stylistic adjustments. My husband is mute. At our wedding, it was his best friend, Kathleen, who spoke his vows for him. After we were married, his mother called me barren, a worthless wife, and he just stood there, face flushed red, unable to say a word in my defense. When Kathleen pushed me down the stairs, I lay on the floor, my head bleeding, and watched myself miscarry our child. My husband could only make strangled, desperate noises, powerless to help. Everyone told me the same thing: “It’s hard for him, too. He’s mute, Lucy. You have to be patient.” I believed them. Until the company gala. I left early and found him in the stairwell, shielding Kathleen from a group of drunk guys. I heard his voice, perfectly clear, for the first time. “Let her go,” he warned them, each word a cold, hard stone. “Or I’ll make sure you disappear from this city.” Kathleen looked up at him with pure adoration. “Liam,” she breathed. “You were so heroic.” Then my husband turned and saw my ashen face. And just like that, he was mute again. It turned out his voice only existed to protect one person. And it wasn’t me. 1. I stood frozen, watching Liam’s mouth move, the articulate threat dissolving back into the meaningless, guttural sounds I knew so well. His eyes were wide with panic, like someone who’d just had their most shameful secret exposed to the world. Kathleen’s expression faltered too, but she recovered instantly, rushing to my side and grabbing my hand. “Lucy, don’t misunderstand. Liam was just… he was so worried about me, he forced the words out.” Her voice was thick with a feigned vulnerability. “You know how he is. He’d do anything for me.” I ripped my hand from her grasp, my eyes pinned on Liam. He couldn’t meet my gaze. He looked down, a frantic sound caught in his throat as his hands flew into a flurry of sign language. [It’s not like that, Lucy. Let me explain.] I stared at his long, elegant fingers. The same hands that had gripped my hospital bed in a display of helpless agony the day I lost our baby. The memory was now a grotesque joke. A laugh escaped my lips, sharp and humorless. I turned and walked away. Liam reached for me, but I flinched away as if his touch would burn. “Don’t touch me.” My voice was so cold, I barely recognized it myself. He froze, the panic in his eyes deepening into despair. Back home, I locked myself in the bedroom. I used to think our quiet house was a peaceful sanctuary. Now, it just felt suffocating. Every corner reeked of lies. A little while later, there was a knock on the door. It was Liam. He didn’t try to enter. He just dragged his fingernails down the wooden door, a high-pitched, grating sound. Once. Twice. It was our private signal. It meant something was urgent. It meant he was begging me. I ignored it. After half an hour, the scratching stopped. I thought he’d given up, and a strange, unwelcome flicker of relief passed through me. Then my phone buzzed. It was a call from Kathleen. I didn’t answer. She followed up with a barrage of texts. “Lucy, Liam’s gone. He was so upset. I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid.” “He loves you so much. Please don’t be mad at him because of me.” “My cat seems sick, and I’m all alone and scared. Do you know where Liam is?” The last message was a tearful voice note. I opened the bedroom door. The living room was empty. Liam’s coat and car keys were gone. On the coffee table was his notepad, left open. Scrawled across the page in a messy, desperate hand were the words: [Lucy, believe me. I only love you.] I stared at the sentence, and a wave of nausea rolled through me. He loved me? Was this his love? Running to another woman the second his lies were exposed? I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello. I need a background check. Liam Vance, and a woman he’s close with named Kathleen Bell.” “I want everything. From the day they met until now.” 2. The next day, I went to work as if nothing had happened. Liam didn’t come home. His mother, however, called right on schedule. “Lucy, what did you do to upset Liam now? Life is hard enough for him as a mute man. Do you have to push him to his breaking point?” “Kathleen called me. She said you were being unreasonable. Liam’s at her place now. You need to go pick him up immediately!” I hung up on her. That evening, Liam finally returned, his face etched with exhaustion. Kathleen was trailing behind him, carrying a container of homemade soup. “Lucy, Liam was worried you hadn’t eaten, so he asked me to bring this over.” She smiled, a picture of innocence, as if the scene in the stairwell had been a figment of my imagination. My mother-in-law followed them in, immediately taking Kathleen’s hand and glaring at me. “Look at how thoughtful Kathleen is. Then look at you. Can’t even take care of your own husband!” “If it weren’t for Kathleen, who knows where Liam would have ended up last night!” Liam just stood there, head bowed, wringing his hands, the very image of guilt and helplessness. I watched them, my heart a block of ice. I walked to the dining table, picked up a document, and held it out to him. “Sign this.” His mother snatched it from my hand. “Sign what? A divorce? I’m telling you, Lucy, the Vance men do not get divorced!” Kathleen leaned in, her face a mask of concern for Liam. “Liam, don’t do anything rash. Lucy’s just upset right now.” She reached for his hand, but he recoiled as if burned, his pleading eyes fixed on me. I ignored him and spoke to his mother. “It’s not a divorce. It’s a company document. Urgent.” She looked skeptical but, seeing my resolve, said nothing more. Liam, seemingly wanting to ease Kathleen’s worry, took the pen and quickly signed his name at the bottom. His signature, like his appearance, was neat and clean. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and innocent as always. [Lucy, please don’t be mad anymore. Okay?] I took the document without giving him a second glance. Just then, Kathleen pointed to an emerald bracelet on my wrist. “Lucy, that bracelet is beautiful. Was it a gift from Liam?” It was. It was the gift he’d given me when he proposed, and I never took it off. I waited for his reaction. As expected, he froze, then began signing rapidly. [It was my engagement gift to Lucy.] Kathleen’s face fell in disappointment, her lip jutting out in a pout. “Oh… I see. It’s just so pretty.” She looked at Liam, her eyes full of longing. “You’ve never given me a gift like that, Liam.” A flicker of conflict crossed his face. He glanced at Kathleen, then back at me. Finally, he picked up the pen and wrote on the notepad. [Lucy, what if… you just let Kathleen borrow it for a few days? She has an important party next week.] In that single moment, my heart didn’t just break. It turned to dust. 3. I stared at the words on the paper for a full ten seconds. Then, I smiled. I unclasped the bracelet. But instead of handing it to Kathleen, I looked directly at Liam. “Are you sure?” He shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, avoiding my eyes as he nodded. [Just for a few days.] “Okay.” I nodded. Then, before any of them could react, I raised my hand. SMASH! The bracelet shattered against the marble floor, emerald fragments scattering like shrapnel. My mother-in-law shrieked. “Are you insane, Lucy?!” Kathleen gasped, hiding behind Liam, her face pale with shock. Liam shot to his feet, staring at me in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. I stood amidst the glittering debris, my voice calm. “It’s broken. Now no one can have it.” I turned and went upstairs to pack. Liam followed, signing frantically at the door. [What is wrong with you? I’ll buy you a new one!] I ignored him, stuffing clothes into a suitcase. He grabbed my wrist. [Don’t go!] I threw his hand off. “Liam. We’re done.” He swayed, his face deathly pale. As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, his mother was still screaming insults at me. I walked straight to the door. Liam blocked my path, his eyes red, signing the same thing over and over. [I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please don’t leave.] I looked at him and found it all so pathetic. “Can your apology bring back my child?” He flinched as if I’d slapped him and froze. I pulled open the door and walked out. Behind me, I heard the sound of something else shattering, followed by his mother’s furious shouts. I didn’t look back. A few days later, my investigator handed me a thick file and several audio recorders. I spent the entire night acquainting myself with the “pure friendship” of Liam and Kathleen. It turned out, Liam wasn’t born mute. At age ten, a severe fever damaged his vocal cords, leaving him unable to speak for a year. During that year, he was showered with attention and care from everyone. Especially Kathleen, who became his self-appointed “spokesperson.” When his voice returned, he made a choice. He stayed silent. He discovered that being a mute got him more than speaking ever did. And Kathleen was the sole keeper of his secret. They were bound together by this twisted arrangement for twenty years. I listened to a recording of Kathleen bragging to a friend. “Liam? Of course he’s not really mute. He just can’t be bothered to talk to people who don’t matter.” “Lucy? She’s just a tool. The Vance family business needed her family’s connections. Why else would he marry her?” “It’s better that the baby’s gone. I was getting sick of looking at her.” I squeezed the recorder, my nails digging into my palm. 4. I thought I would be shaking with rage, but I was terrifyingly calm. The next day, I got a call from Kathleen. She was sobbing, claiming she’d accidentally broken my mother-in-law’s favorite antique vase and was about to be thrown out. “Lucy, can you please talk to Liam for me? He listens to you.” I let out a soft laugh. “Isn’t he at your place? Why don’t you talk to him yourself?” There was a pause, then more dramatic crying. “He… he won’t see me. He won’t answer my calls. I don’t know what to do.” I leaned back on my sofa, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Then you should get on your knees and beg him. Just like I was on my knees, begging him to save me the day I lost our baby.” Kathleen was speechless. I hung up, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. A short while later, my doorbell rang. It was Liam. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. He was holding a small, elegant cake box. When he saw me, he forced a hopeful smile. [Lucy, I bought you your favorite cake.] He signed, watching my expression carefully. I didn’t let him in. I just leaned against the doorframe. “What do you want?” He seemed taken aback by my coldness. He started signing again, more urgently this time. [Kathleen didn’t mean it. She’s young and immature. Don’t hold it against her.] [I’ll talk to my mom. Don’t worry.] I watched him rush to defend her, the irony thick enough to choke on. “Liam, are you here to bring me a cake, or to be Kathleen’s lawyer?” His face drained of color, his hands frozen mid-air. I shut the door, cutting him off completely. That night, I received a picture message from an unknown number. It was a photo of the box from my old storage room—the box that held all of my baby’s things. The tiny clothes, the soft toys, the sweater I’d knitted by hand. Now, they were all piled next to a dumpster, spattered with filth. Beneath the photo was a single line of text. [Eyesores belong in the trash.] Blood roared in my ears. I drove to the old house like a madwoman. The storage room door was open, the inside ransacked. The contents of the box were scattered everywhere, trampled and ruined. The little wooden horse I’d carved for my child was snapped in two. I fell to my knees, gathering the soiled keepsakes one by one, tears streaming down my face. Just then, Liam and Kathleen arrived. Kathleen gasped theatrically. “Oh my god, what happened? Everything was fine when I left!” Liam rushed to my side, trying to help me up. [Lucy, don’t be like this. If they’re broken, we can buy new ones.] Buy new ones? I looked up, my eyes burning with a hatred so intense it felt like it could incinerate him. “Get out!” He recoiled, startled by my ferocity. Kathleen stepped forward, playing the peacemaker. “Lucy, don’t blame Liam. A burglar must have broken in! We should call the police!” I grabbed the broken half of the wooden horse and hurled it at her with all my might. “You did this! Kathleen, I’ll kill you!” The wood grazed her cheek, leaving a thin, red line on her perfect skin. She screamed and dove behind Liam, crying hysterically. “Liam, I’m so scared… she’s lost her mind…” Liam instinctively wrapped his arms around Kathleen, shielding her completely. He turned to me, his eyes cold with disappointment. And then, I heard his voice. He hadn’t used this voice to say his vows. He hadn’t used this voice to defend me from his mother’s insults. He hadn’t used this voice to call for help as I bled out on a hospital bed. But now, for a meaningless scratch on another woman’s face, he spoke. He had honed twenty years of silence into a razor-sharp blade, and he plunged it straight into my heart. “Apologize to Kathleen. Now.”

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The first thing I did after being reborn was secretly move my parents’ graves. In their place, I buried the ashes of a stray dog. Not only that, I poured manure all over the site. Why? Because in my past life, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart insisted on paying respects to my parents with him. From that day on, my life spiraled into endless misfortune. Meanwhile, she flourished. She landed a job at a top tech company and even won the lottery. Not long after, I died of a sudden illness. My spirit lingered, and I heard her gloating to my boyfriend: “Thanks to your dead girlfriend, I swapped our fates. She had no idea how lucky she was. Now everything that was hers is mine!” Hearing that, I wanted to scream, to tear them apart. Then I opened my eyes. I was back to the day she asked to visit my parents’ grave. Chapter 1 “Sarah, is this where your parents are buried?” Emily looked at me with wide, curious eyes. I nodded. “Yes, my mom and dad are right here.” Her eyes lit up. She bowed deeply before the tombstone. “Sarah, let me burn some paper money for them too,” she said, smiling sweetly. “It’s just a token of my respect.” In my past life, I was touched by her gesture. But this time, I knew better. Her “token of respect” was a ritual to steal my luck. I replied coldly, “No need, Emily. They’re my parents. It’s more sincere if I do it myself.” Emily’s face fell instantly. She turned to look at my boyfriend with misty eyes. “Mark, I just wanted to show my respect! I didn’t mean anything else!” “Sarah,” Mark chimed in, frowning at me. “Emily is just being kind. Why are you rejecting her like that?” I looked at the two of them and sneered internally. “Fine,” I said flatly. “If you want to burn it, burn it.” As soon as I spoke, Emily shot Mark a look. Mark turned to me. “Sarah, let’s go buy some flowers to put on the grave.” In my past life, this was how he lured me away. When we returned, Emily had already finished her ritual. I asked her what she burned back then. She looked flustered but brushed it off. I didn’t think much of it. Only after I died did I realize she had stolen my family’s fortune. This time, I wouldn’t stop her. After all, the ashes in that grave didn’t belong to my parents. My parents were safe in a cemetery back in my hometown. The only thing protecting Emily now was… well, nothing good. As I walked away with Mark, I saw Emily pull out a stack of yellow paper from her bag. I noticed faint red markings on them—her birth date written in her own blood. I smiled, pretending not to see, and followed Mark down the hill. When we returned with the flowers, Emily was done. She took the bouquet from me, beaming. “Sarah, I asked your parents to bless you too!” I gave her a faint smile but didn’t say a word. Looking at the triumphant glint in her eyes, I couldn’t help but smirk. Chapter 2 After saying goodbye to Mark and Emily, I went straight to the hospital for a full checkup. The doctor told me I was perfectly healthy. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. In my past life, I died from a mysterious illness. This time, that wasn’t going to happen. When I got home, my phone rang. It was the company I had been dreaming of joining—a high-security government contractor. They told me I passed the interview and wanted me to start ASAP. I was stunned. In my past life, I never got this call. Instead, Emily got an offer from a huge tech giant on her way home from the grave. But this time, the luck was mine. Since the job was in another city, I packed immediately. Just as I finished, Mark showed up. “Sarah, Emily didn’t get the job offer.” He looked at me with concern. “She’s really upset. I’m going to go keep her company.” I smiled. “Sure, go ahead.” Mark paused, studying me closely. “Sarah, are your parents really buried there? Like, always been there?” “Of course,” I nodded without hesitation. I knew he was suspicious. Mark and Emily had once dragged me to a fortune teller who told them I had incredible luck and ancestral protection. That’s why they targeted me. “Mark, would I forget where my own parents are buried?” I asked, feigning hurt. Mark laughed, relaxing. “True, that would be crazy.” “I’ll go check on Emily then.” I pretended to care, telling him to comfort her properly. “Sarah, you used to hate it when I hung out with Emily. Why are you pushing me to go today?” he asked before leaving. I smiled sweetly. “I didn’t like it before! But she’s sad, right? Go be a good friend. I trust you, Mark!” Mark nodded, satisfied, and left. The moment the door closed, my smile dropped. I called my landlord. I told him I was moving out immediately and didn’t even care about the deposit. I booked the earliest flight out. Sitting at the airport, I finally felt safe. I couldn’t imagine what other traps they had waiting for me if I stayed. But now, Emily’s bad luck was just beginning. She had just spiritually adopted a stray dog as her ancestor. And with the manure I poured over the grave, her luck wasn’t just stolen—it was poisoned. As for Mark? Being with her would only drag him down. I needed to be as far away as possible. Chapter 3 In the waiting lounge, I scrolled through my phone. Mark had posted a photo on his Moment (social media feed). It was him and Emily on a trip together. They looked intimate, more like a couple than friends. I stared at the photo, feeling a wave of detachment. We started dating a year ago. A classmate dragged me to a fortune teller, and Mark and Emily tagged along. They heard my birth date and the fortune teller’s praise. After that, Mark pursued me relentlessly. I didn’t understand then. Now I know he was chasing my luck, not me. He wanted me for Emily’s sake. I smirked and turned off my phone. When I landed, a company car was waiting. They had arranged housing for me in a secure compound. Seeing the patrols, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in two lifetimes. After settling in, my new boss told me to take a few days to adjust before starting next week. I went straight to bed, exhausted. I slept like the dead until my phone rang. It was Mark. “Sarah! Come to the hospital, quick!” his voice was frantic. “What?” I asked, feigning confusion. “Emily and I got into a car accident! We’re at the hospital. Come now!” “Mark, I can’t,” I said calmly. “I got a job. I’ve already left the city.” “What?!” Mark roared. “You didn’t even have an interview! How could you have a job?” “And I saw you yesterday! I know you’re just jealous because I’m with Emily!” “Sarah, stop being childish and get over here!” I laughed softly. “Mark, I really did get a job. Also, I realized you care way more about Emily than me.” “So, Mark, we’re breaking up.” I hung up before he could respond. It was over. Now, the bad luck was all theirs. My luck was back where it belonged. He called again. I frowned and turned off my phone. Finally, a good night’s sleep. Chapter 4 Over the next two weeks, I settled into my new role. My boss was impressed with my work and even promised me my own project if I nailed the current one. I was motivated. Mark and Emily kept calling. I blocked them, but they just used new numbers like relentless cockroaches. Every time I heard Mark’s voice, I hung up immediately. A friend back home gave me the tea. Emily was having a terrible time. The car accident scarred her face, and she needed reconstructive surgery. Mark broke a rib. Worse, before the crash, Emily had dragged Mark to a high-stakes poker game. They lost everything. Now they were drowning in debt. “Sarah, you won’t believe it,” my friend whispered. “They got into the accident because they were fighting in the car after losing all that money!” “And now loan sharks are chasing them.” “Don’t let Mark guilt-trip you. He was cheating on you the whole time!” “I know,” I said with a smile. “Thanks for telling me.” I hung up, feeling vindicated. In my past life, Emily went straight from the “grave visit” to celebrate her job offer with Mark. That’s when they started gambling, thinking her stolen luck made them invincible. This time, her luck was cursed from the start. I was glad I escaped. The next morning, Mark called again from another new number. “Sarah, please! I really need you!” “Mark, did you forget? We broke up.” “I never agreed to that!” he shouted. “I just got hurt, and you dump me? You have to take responsibility!” “Why should I be responsible for an accident you had with Emily?” I scoffed. “Besides, aren’t you two happy together?” “Please, stop calling me.” I was about to hang up when Emily’s screeching voice came through. “Sarah! That wasn’t your parents’ grave, was it?! What did you do?!”

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