Category: English

I wanted to stroke the campus heartthrob’s cat. It was the middle of the night, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I shot him a text. Avery: Hey, can I stroke it? Just once! His reply was immediate, and predictably formal. Rhys: Avery, that’s a bit forward. I pressed on. I knew I was good with my hands. Avery: I’ve got a great touch, I promise I’ll make it purr! One hand from head to tail, right? Silence. An hour later, he finally replied. Rhys: One hand won’t do it. Rhys: You won’t be able to grasp it. 1 Avery: No way! Avery: I can definitely grasp it! To prove my point, I immediately took a close-up photo of my hand and sent it to him. In the picture, my hand was cupped, angled just so to make my fingers look extra long and nimble. Avery: See? Plenty of room. I wasn’t delusional. His cat, Figaro, was only three months old. A tiny little thing. How could I not be able to grasp it? The top of the chat box flashed: Rhys is typing… It started, then stopped. Stopped, then started again. For a solid three minutes. All I could think about was the cat. I was getting impatient. Avery: How about you send me a close-up picture so I can check if it’s grown? 2 Rhys’s reply this time was surprisingly fast. Rhys: I’m a traditional man. I frowned, staring at the screen. What did being “traditional” have to do with sending a picture of a kitten? Rhys: It’s not appropriate at night. It’s already asleep. I was even more confused. Avery: Don’t lie. It’s definitely wide awake right now. Nighttime was prime zoomie-time for any kitten. I suspected Rhys was just using excuses. After that, he stopped replying. Rhys Alderidge was a legend in our department. First, because of his face—a chiseled, untouchable beauty that landed him the unofficial title of Campus Heartthrob. Second, because of his personality—infamously stiff, unapproachable, and stubbornly old-school. He’d broken a thousand hearts without even trying. We were in the same college, but different majors, so besides large lecture classes, we had zero overlap. Texting him at midnight about stroking his cat was, admittedly, a breach of social contract. This is going south, I thought, letting out a heavy sigh. Just as I was about to give up, my phone vibrated. Rhys had actually conceded. Rhys: If you want to stroke it so badly… fine. Rhys: But you have to come to my place. He added a familiar line. Rhys: I’m a traditional man. !!! He’d said yes! I was elated, scared he’d change his mind. Avery: Deal! No problem! Avery: Wherever you want to stroke it is fine by me! I’m flexible! The screen went quiet for a few seconds. Rhys: When did you… take an interest in it? 3 Why was I so obsessed with stroking Rhys Alderidge’s cat? Because it was my cat. Rhys was a kidnapper. He had effectively catnapped my beloved son, Figaro. Figaro was a scrappy, long-haired calico I’d found living under my dorm. He had a weird, chaotic patchwork of orange and black that made him look a little like a walking paint-spill—which is why no one adopted him. I’d been his biological human since he was a month old. I paid for his vet visits, built his little shelter, and fed him by hand. I couldn’t bring him into the dorm because my roommate was allergic, so I was saving up my scholarship money to rent an apartment. Rhys, however, had beaten me to it. He skipped straight past “adopt” and went directly to “steal.” But an opportunist never quits. I instantly developed a perfect new plan: Get close to Rhys. Lull him into a false sense of security. Then, steal my son back. 4 When did I take an interest in it? I thought back. Avery: Two months ago. Two months ago was when I first met Figaro next to the dumpsters behind my dorm. The top of the chat box flashed: Rhys is typing… After a long pause, he sent three words. Rhys: Me too. My fist clenched. What did that mean? He saw Figaro two months ago but didn’t take him in? He just watched while I did all the hard work—potty training him, getting him fed, turning him into a plump, healthy little creature—and then swooped in to claim him? This was a blatant theft of hard-won victory. It was infuriating. But I forced myself to calm down. Bigger picture, Avery. Bigger picture. I put on a friendly facade. Avery: Well, looks like we’re completely in sync then, aren’t we~ Avery: So, when can I come over and stroke it? 5 That night, Rhys just replied, It’s moving too fast, and then went radio silent. No specific date, no time. That wouldn’t do. A dedicated plotter like me hates uncertainty. I had to push him. The first thing I did in the morning was film myself applying hand cream and sent the video. In the clip, I massaged the milky lotion into my palms, smoothing it over my knuckles. Avery: Look, my hands are super soft. It’s going to be in pure ecstasy when I touch it. The chat box flashed Rhys is typing… for nearly a minute. Nothing ever came through. Why did he keep doing this? A bold thought crossed my mind—maybe Rhys just wasn’t good with phones. I decided to be more direct. Avery: Can you send me a video of you stroking it? Just to tide me over? (Stars-in-eyes emoji) He was silent for a while. Then, a familiar line popped up. Rhys: I’m a traditional man. Avery: … Was that a default auto-reply? Was something wrong with him? I didn’t know how to respond, so I just didn’t. About ten minutes later, my phone vibrated. Rhys had actually sent a video! 6 My heart did a little jump. I quickly tapped play. The frame held only a pair of hands. The fingers were long and slender, with distinct knuckles. Pale skin with faint blue veins underneath. The fingers were moving, sliding up and down in mid-air, a study in elegant motion. But they were trembling slightly, as if recording this brief clip had been a massive psychological barrier to overcome. I was momentarily confused. Why was he showing me his hands? Was I the type of person who just drooled over handsome men? I wanted the cat! With no Figaro content from Rhys, I resorted to trawling his old social media posts. I found an old video of him petting the cat. In the clip, Rhys was sitting down, his eyes lowered, silver-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up twice, exposing a clean, firm forearm. He looked gentle and studious. His long fingers were lightly petting the kitten’s head. The next second, the cat twisted its head and swiped a claw across his forearm, leaving a clear red scratch. He didn’t seem annoyed; a tiny, affectionate smile even touched the corner of his mouth. My roommate leaned over my shoulder. “He’s so handsome, and so emotionally regulated… I wish I were his cat.” She paused, then observed, “Look, he was just scratched and he’s still smiling.” She smirked suggestively. “Maybe he is a bit of a masochist. They say the quiet, buttoned-up ones are always the wildest ones in the sheets. Girl, whoever lands him is going to eat well.” Her words made me realize the reason for Rhys’s hesitation. 7 I sent a probing text. Avery: You never bring people you aren’t close with back to your place, do you? Rhys replied with a single word. Rhys: No. Aha! Case closed. He was so stiff and formal that he felt we weren’t close enough for me to come home and stroke his cat. I clicked over to his profile again, carefully scrolling through his posts. I needed a way to accelerate our relationship status. 8 Clutching a small pink gift bag, I found Rhys in his large lecture hall during the busiest break between classes. He was sitting alone, reading. He looked like a very serious ragdoll cat. “Rhys!” He visibly flinched when he saw me, blinking rapidly behind his glasses. His earlobes flushed pink. I pressed the pink bag into his hands, smiling brightly. “Open it, Rhys. See if you like it.” He took it, glancing nervously at the surrounding students, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Are you sure… you want me to open this in front of everyone?” I nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Open it.” He carefully peeled back the tissue paper. Inside lay a small, hand-knitted scarf that I’d stayed up all night to finish. “Happy belated birthday, Rhys!” The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, catching my radiant smile. Rhys froze, staring at me. When he finally registered what I’d said, his ear tips turned even redder. He adjusted his glasses to cover his confusion. “…Thank you.” The surrounding spectators immediately became alert. “Rhys actually accepted a gift from a girl?” “The Heartthrob is blushing…” I gave myself a mental high-five. Plan: Aced. Now that he’d accepted a gift and I’d wished him well, we were officially friends, right? It was time to claim my prize. “I knitted it myself,” I emphasized. He stroked the scarf, his eyes avoiding mine. “I love it.” “I was up all night working on it,” I pressed, following the momentum. He looked up at me, his eyes dark. “I understand your intentions.” The moment was now. I lowered my voice. “So, about what I asked last night…?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked away. “I’m a bit traditional. I need some time. Maybe next month…” My smile instantly faltered. He saw my face drop and pursed his lips. “Next weekend,” he revised quickly. I immediately deployed the innocent, doe-eyed appeal, gently tugging the sleeve of his shirt. “The day after tomorrow! Tomorrow! Please?” He seemed burned by my touch. He grit his teeth. “Fine.” “Thank you!” My mood instantly shifted, and I beamed. “I’m going to make sure I’m completely ready!” He looked at me, his gaze heavy, and his voice held a strange, determined finality. “I will be, too.” I didn’t understand what he needed to prepare for. 9 On the walk back to the dorm, my roommate linked arms with me, shaking her head in amazement. “Avery, do you know what Rhys said when a freshman tried to give him a gift last month?” She mimicked Rhys’s stiff, upright posture. “‘I do not accept bribes for my position.’ He refused without even looking at it.” “He’s pathologically good.” She suddenly leaned in, elbowing me. “But he took yours and said he liked it!” I thought she was overthinking it. “He just likes hand-knitted things.” My roommate sighed, utterly defeated. “Avery, you are a ruthless opportunist, but also a monumental idiot.” “Poor Rhys.” I tuned her out. I only had one thing on my mind: Figaro. Tomorrow, I could finally go to Rhys’s place and stroke him! I hadn’t seen him in so long; I was going to inhale his scent until I passed out. 10 I was too excited to sleep. Tucked under my covers, I suddenly remembered an important detail. I texted Rhys. Avery: Did you shave its butt hair? If not, I can come over and clip it tomorrow. Figaro was a long-haired cat; his rear end needed regular maintenance, or things got messy. On the other end, Rhys seemed to be struggling. After a long input delay, he replied. Rhys: Isn’t that… moving a bit too fast? I frowned at the screen. I told him the truth. Avery: I can’t wait any longer! This time, his input was even slower. So long that I thought he might have fallen asleep. Finally, the message popped up. Rhys: I’ve never done it before, but for you… I can try. Rhys: I’m very much looking forward to it. I was wondering why he’d be looking forward to clipping a cat’s butt hair. Then, another message arrived. Rhys: Since I’ve agreed to all this, can I ask for a small favor in return? I bit my bottom lip, hovering my finger over the screen. After three seconds of deliberation. Fine, I need the cat more. Avery: Sure. He almost instantly replied. Rhys: Can I call you ‘Babe’? I was confused. Avery: Why? He replied with utter seriousness. Rhys: It seems like people in our situation often use that term for each other. Our situation? 11 I stared at the words, my brain momentarily fried. Then, a sudden realization struck me—I understood! We were cat-buddies! People online who shared pictures and advice about their cats often called each other “Babe” or “Sweetie.” The logic was flawless. Relieved, I readily agreed. Avery: Okay, sure. Go for it. He immediately sent a strange, slightly outdated floral emoji with the caption, “Happiness Lasts Forever,” radiating a kind of rigid, uncontainable joy. My goal achieved, I decided to end the conversation. Avery: Goodnight, see you tomorrow. I was about to put down my phone when a voice note popped up. I tapped it. His low, rich voice poured into my ear, sounding as if he were right behind me. “Goodnight, Babe.” “See you tomorrow.” 12 Following the address Rhys had sent, I found myself standing in front of a substantial, secluded villa. “This is next-level luxury,” I murmured, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. The door opened. Rhys stood in the frame, his hair damp. He was wearing a white terry-cloth robe, and he’d taken off his glasses, making his features look sharper and his thick eyelashes more prominent. He seemed edgier than usual. I froze for a second. He spoke first. “My parents are at a visiting professorship abroad.” “…Oh.” So, he was completely alone? He held out a pair of fuzzy white kitten slippers. They were identical to the black ones he was wearing. I started to bend down, but he knelt first. “Let me.” “You don’t have to…” Before I could finish, his fingers deftly untied my shoelaces. His robe gaped slightly with the movement, and I accidentally glanced inside, catching a flash of taut, slightly pink-tinged muscle. My face went hot, and I snapped my head away. After I put the slippers on, Rhys gentlemanly ushered me inside. “So, can I stroke it now?” I asked, eager for the cat. “Has it gotten a lot bigger?” 13 Rhys’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He cleared his throat. “Y-yes,” he managed. I was impatient. “Where should I stroke it?” “You… where do you want to? Anywhere is fine.” “The living room couch, then.” I went straight to the point, plopping down and rubbing my hands together excitedly. “Bring Figaro out!” Rhys lightly coughed, the tips of his ears flushed red. He looked incredibly serious. “It’s not small,” he said solemnly. What did that mean? Was he bragging about how well he’d fed Figaro? As I wondered, Rhys very deliberately reached for a remote and closed all the living room blinds. ?? Then, he turned on a dim, amber-colored mood lamp. ??? I didn’t understand, but I respected the man’s eccentricities. The entire space was bathed in a hazy, slightly ambiguous light. He walked over to the sofa. Taking a deep breath, as if making a monumental decision, he sat down next to me. The bottom of his robe had slipped open slightly as he spread his legs. He leaned back against the cushions and lifted an arm to cover his eyes. He looked like a portrait of submission. His damp, dark hair, the half-open robe—in the dim light, he appeared both incredibly restrained and deeply ready to let go. I was stunned. This was what he meant by “traditional”? After a moment, he didn’t feel any movement, so he lowered the arm covering his eyes and looked at me, his expression wet with a kind of resigned vulnerability. “You… you don’t want to start?” I was just as antsy. “You have to bring Figaro out! If you don’t, how can I start?” The air froze.

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I took my coworkers out for drinks, only to realize I didn’t have enough money to cover the tab. Desperate, I walked up to the hottest guy in the VIP booth. “Hey, can you pay this for me? I’ll Venmo you later.” The guy tried to play it cool. “Miss, do we know each other?” I snatched the drink right out of his hand. “We don’t. But ask your bodyguard how many times he’s called me for a favor.” “I’ve saved your ass enough times. Can’t you return the favor once?” The man looked confused, but his bodyguard immediately covered his face with his hand. “Boss… it’s true. Every time you get blackout drunk, you attack anyone who comes near you. Except her.” “I’ve called her multiple times to beg her to take you home.” 1 The group of guys sitting around him perked up, looking at me like I was a unicorn. “Wait, for real? When Lu gets wasted, he’s like a rabid dog. No one can touch him.” “Yeah, I tried to help him to his room once and he nearly snapped my arm in half.” “Same. They say Lu is possessed by demons when he drinks. I didn’t believe it, tried to out-drink him, and ended up in the hospital for two months with multiple fractures.” “The doctor said it’s hyper-defensive instinct. He trusts no one when his inhibitions are down, so he attacks on sight. What makes this girl so special?” “I don’t buy it. Unless she proves it right now.” I raised an eyebrow and pulled out my phone, flashing my QR code. “Sure. Transfer me five hundred bucks first, and I’ll give you a show.” Someone actually whipped out their phone and sent me the money. Ding. Payment received. I pointed to the bar. “I’m gonna go pay my tab. Get him wasted, then come find me.” The whole booth started cheering and jeering. Only the man in the center, Luke Vance, narrowed his eyes at me dangerously. I wasn’t scared. I’ve seen him hugging a toilet bowl. I have photos. Heh. Look at him now, sitting there like a king in his VIP booth, all elegant and refined. A total fraud. I’d already seen him at his worst. I paid the bill and sent my coworkers home. Then I walked back to the booth. Hey, I took the five hundred, I had to deliver the show. Luke’s friends were trying their hardest to pour drinks down his throat. But Luke wasn’t having it. He grabbed my wrist, dragged me out of the club, and shoved me into his Maybach. Slam. The door shut so hard the car shook. Like a shaken soda bottle finally popping its cap. I rubbed my nose. “Hey, it’s not my fault you only trust me when you’re drunk. It’s annoying for me too, you know?” 2 It all started six months ago. I was leaving work late when I saw a guy sprawled out in the middle of the street, using a Citi Bike as a blanket. It was hilarious. Being terminally online, I had to take a video. But when I got closer… damn, what a face. Too bad he was wasted. Reeking of alcohol. He was muttering about being thirsty. I took out my water bottle and poured him a cup. He was surprisingly obedient, gulping it down. I tried to wake him up. “Hey, you can’t sleep on the street.” “Where’s your phone? I’ll call your friends.” He ignored me, snoozing away on the asphalt. I had no choice but to pat him down. Found his legs were incredibly long. Like, model long. I found his phone, unlocked it with Face ID (easy when they’re asleep), and FaceTime-d the first contact on his list. I pointed the camera at his face. “Hello? This phone’s owner is sleeping on the street. If you’re his friend, come get him.” The guy on the other end didn’t even ask for a location. He just screamed, “BACK AWAY FROM HIM! FIVE FEET! NOW!” I thought he was worried I was going to rob the hot guy. I scoffed. “Relax, I’m not interested in drunks.” “I’m sending you the location. Hurry up.” The guy yelled again, “Do not ignore me! Unless you want to die!” Psycho. I hung up. Then I sat on the curb to guard the guy. He decided my thigh was a better pillow than the bike. He slept like a baby under the moonlight. Ten minutes later, the friend arrived and looked at us like he was seeing a ghost. I swore, “Look, I didn’t touch him inappropriately.” As soon as I spoke, the guy shifted. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach, treating me like a body pillow. I couldn’t pry him off. I pulled his ear. “Hey! Wake up! Your friend is here. Let go!” He didn’t budge. I looked at the friend. “Help me out here. I can’t move his arms.” The friend stood five feet away, refusing to move. I was pissed. “Why are you just standing there?” He said, “I don’t want to die.” Me: “…” What? 3 The guy explained he wasn’t a friend, but a bodyguard. He pulled his car up, parking exactly five feet away. “You have to get him into the car.” “Are you sick? He’s your boss, not mine! I called you out of the goodness of my heart, and now I have to do the heavy lifting?” The bodyguard refused to help. He stood there with his arms crossed. I was furious. I took it out on the drunk guy, dragging him like a sack of potatoes. The bodyguard, probably afraid I’d damage the merchandise, finally stepped forward to help. Suddenly, the man who was dead to the world sprang up. Faster than I could blink, he pulled a Swiss Army knife from his belt. He shoved me behind him and slashed at the bodyguard in one fluid motion. The speed. The aggression. If the bodyguard hadn’t dodged, there would have been blood. I stared, jaw on the floor. What the hell? The bodyguard was back at the five-foot mark, smiling awkwardly. “See? That’s why I didn’t help.” “When the Boss is drunk, no one can get close. His defense mechanism is extreme.” I touched my neck instinctively. Okay, I’m out. But the drunk guy just put the knife away and rested his heavy head on my shoulder, falling back asleep. Me: “…” The bodyguard was baffled. “You are the only person I’ve ever seen get close to him when he’s like this.” Are you blind? He’s leaning on ME! I wanted to cry. “So what do we do?” “You have to put him in the car and drive him home. Can you drive?” “Ideally, yes. In practice… maybe?” “Please.” “Are you guys pranking me? Why only me? What about his parents?” “His parents died a long time ago. He only has a grandfather, and even he can’t get close.” This was insane. I had to use every ounce of strength to wrestle a 6’2″ man into a car and then drive him home. Afterward, the bodyguard added me on WeChat, saying he might need me again. “Get lost! Never again!” He transferred me five thousand dollars. I immediately typed back: “My pleasure! Call me anytime! But this is the rate every time.” 4 Two weeks later, late at night, the bodyguard sent me five thousand. [Miss Lin, emergency. Please come. Location sent.] I followed the GPS to the most exclusive club in the city. I opened the door to the VIP room and saw several powerful looking men knocked out cold on the floor. Paramedics arrived and wheeled them all out. The only one left was Luke Vance, holding his Swiss Army knife, backed into a corner, eyes bloodshot and scanning the room for threats. Honestly, he looked like a demon ready to kill. I didn’t dare approach him. My legs were shaking. I tried to return the money. “Nope. Can’t do it.” The bodyguard immediately sent another fifty thousand. “Understood. Danger pay. Is this enough?” “…” I didn’t mean that. But fifty grand! I’m just a corporate slave. I cannot say no to fifty grand. So, I walked up to him. Gently patted his shoulder. “Hey, don’t kill me. Put the knife down.” I really didn’t expect him to listen. He looked at me with blurry eyes for a long moment, then folded the knife away. Then he swayed and collapsed right into my arms. Oof! He was heavy. I lost my balance and we both went down. Luckily, right before we hit the floor, he twisted his body and became a human cushion. I landed softly on top of him.

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The day my biological family finally came to take me home, there was a car accident. My parents and the fake son who had taken my place, Julian, were all declared dead. Only my sister, Victoria, survived. From that day on, she hated me to the bone. She blamed me for the accident and the subsequent bankruptcy of the family company. To atone for my “sins,” I worked over a dozen jobs a day. Every cent I earned, I handed over to Victoria. I did it all to help her buy back the family estate, the villa filled with their memories. But the day I finally saved enough money, I walked up to the villa and saw the impossible. My “dead” parents were inside, alive and well, celebrating Julian’s birthday. Even Victoria, usually cold as ice, was smiling gently at them. When the cake was brought out, my mother mentioned me: “It’s Jace’s birthday today too, isn’t it? We’ve punished him for eight years. Maybe we should bring him back?” Victoria refused instantly: “We agreed on ten years. He needs to learn his lesson so he never dares suggest sending Julian away again. Not a year less!” I clutched my medical diagnosis in my hand and laughed until tears ran down my face. But Victoria… I don’t have two years. I’m going to die soon. It took me two hours to rummage through the apartment and find a blister pack of ibuprofen. I didn’t know if it was expired, and I didn’t care. I swallowed the pills dry, praying they would dull the pain that felt like a drill boring into my skull. I had just curled up on my cot in the corner of the living room when Victoria came home. Seeing me resting, pale-faced and eyes closed, she frowned. She stormed over, grabbed a handful of my hair, and dragged me into the guest bedroom. This room was a shrine. It held the memorial tablets for Mom, Dad, and Julian. I had knelt on the futon before these tablets thousands of times over the last eight years. Enduring the stinging pain in my scalp, I knelt down, numbness taking over. Victoria released my hair, her voice dripping with ice. “Today is the anniversary of Mom, Dad, and Julian’s death. I spent the whole day cleaning their graves, yet you have the audacity to lie here and rest?” “If not for you, they would still be alive! You will spend your entire life paying for those three lives!” “It’s been eight years since you killed them. Tonight, you stay on your knees. Eight hundred kowtows. Don’t stop until you’re done.” But I knew the truth now. Earlier that day, I saw her at the villa—the one she claimed was foreclosed. She was celebrating Julian’s birthday with the parents she claimed were dead because of me. I fought back the nausea caused by the pressure in my brain and asked, voice raspy: “Why haven’t you ever taken me to their graves to apologize in person?” Victoria paused, then looked at me with disgust. “An animal like you would only dirty their path to the afterlife.” “Jace, don’t try to stall. If you miss a single kowtow, you’re not sleeping tonight!” I closed my eyes. My mind replayed the truth I had uncovered today. There were no graves. They didn’t buy plots because they thought it was bad luck for living people. All those times Victoria said she was visiting their graves—leaving me to kneel for hours—she was actually visiting Julian. They called it “punishment.” All because eight years ago, when I found out about my true parentage over the phone, I asked them to send Julian away. He reacted by threatening to slit his wrists. So, for eight years, I carried the guilt of “killing” my parents. I let Victoria vent her hatred on me. A sharp blow to the back of my head snapped me back to reality. Victoria was forcing my head to the floor, again and again. “I told you to kowtow! Are you deaf?” “Jace, do you think a little suffering is enough to wash away your sins?” Blood soon trickled down my forehead. Maybe the ibuprofen was working, or maybe my nerves were dying, but I didn’t feel much pain. But before I could feel relieved, a familiar numbness spread through my limbs. I lost control of my body and collapsed sideways. Victoria stared at me, watching my breathing grow shallow. It took her a moment to react. She pulled me up, looking flustered. “What kind of act is this? Fine, I’ll take you to the hospital.” Just as we stepped out of the room, her phone rang. It was a specific, custom ringtone. She froze. After a second of hesitation, she dropped me back onto the floor and rushed outside to answer the call. I lay on the floor for a while, but eventually, I couldn’t hold it back. I vomited acid all over the floor. I recognized that ringtone. I had heard it many times before. Only today did I realize it was the special tone she set for Julian. While I was heaving, dizzy and sick, Victoria returned, her face dark. Seeing that I had vomited on her designer bag on the sofa, her anger exploded. She slapped me across the face. “You dared to ruin the gift Julian gave me? I shouldn’t have been soft on you!” The next second, I was dragged back to the memorial room. Victoria forced me to finish the kowtows. Only after she counted eight hundred did she let go of me, barely conscious. “Stay on your knees. You can leave when I’m no longer angry.” I don’t know how long I was out. I woke up to knocking on the door. I stumbled to open it. It was the landlady, Mrs. Higgins, coming for the rent. Before she could scold me, she saw the blood on my face and gasped. “Oh my god, child! What happened to you? Come, let me take you to the hospital.” At the hospital, after the tests, Mrs. Higgins was heartbroken. “You poor thing… you’re so young. How could it be brain cancer?” Seeing me pale, thin, and unable to eat, she called her son to bring homemade soup and fed me spoonful by spoonful. My eyes welled up. Eight years ago, when I found out my biological parents weren’t the abusive couple who raised me, this was the kind of mother I had dreamed of. Mrs. Higgins wiped my tears gently. “Don’t cry, honey. We’ll treat it. You can get better.” I shook my head. I transferred the last of my wages—money I was supposed to give to Victoria—to Mrs. Higgins. “Thank you, Mrs. Higgins. But it’s malignant. It’s too late.” “This isn’t enough for the rent and the medical bills you paid, but I promise, I’ll find a way to pay you back.” She tried to persuade me, but I insisted on discharging myself. As I walked down the hallway, passing a consultation room, I heard Victoria’s voice. “Mom, you shouldn’t have mentioned Jace yesterday. Julian had a nightmare that Jace came back to kick him out.” Then, Julian’s tearful voice: “I’m so scared he’ll come back and make me leave. If I can’t be with Mom, Dad, and Vicky, I’d rather die!” Through the crack in the door, our eyes met. Julian immediately screamed. “He’s here! He’s really here to kick me out!” He ran to the window and leaned half his body out. “Don’t send me away! I don’t want to go back to being abused by the Millers! If you don’t want me, I’ll jump!” Mom, Dad, and Victoria turned pale with terror, rushing to pull him back. Once Julian was safe, Dad and Victoria turned on me. Their faces were grim. They marched over and kicked me to the ground before I could even turn away. I clutched my stomach, coughing up blood. Victoria grabbed me by the throat. “Jace! You stalked us here? You almost killed Julian again!” “I’m going to make you feel the fear Julian just felt!” She and Dad dragged me to the rooftop. They tied my hands and dangled me over the edge. “This is just a small lesson. If you scare Julian again, it won’t be just dangling!” Listening to their footsteps fade away, I felt like I had run out of tears for this lifetime. I was the one switched at birth. I was the one abused for eighteen years by strangers. I was their flesh and blood. But just because I didn’t want to live with the son of my abusers, my own family deceived and tortured me for years. Now, they left me hanging off a building, terrified I would fall. I wasn’t resigned. I didn’t want to die like this. I tried desperately to grip the rope. But the tumor was pressing on my nerves. My right hand was losing feeling. My left hand wasn’t strong enough. No matter how hard I gritted my teeth, the knot on my wrist was slipping. I was sliding down, inch by inch. Just as I thought I was going to fall, Mrs. Higgins’ frantic voice rang out from above. “He’s here! Help! Someone help him!” I ended up hospitalized for another five days because of the muscle strain from hanging. When I finally returned to the apartment, Victoria was waiting, arms crossed, eyes dark. She sneered. “Jace, you’ve got guts. Running away? Did you think anyone would look for you?” “Crawling back after five days… I thought you had more backbone than that.” I looked at her, my voice hoarse. “I tore the muscles in my arms from hanging there too long. I was in the hospital. It wouldn’t be hard for the great Victoria Sterling to verify that.” She stiffened, her expression softening slightly. “I thought Dad would have let you down sooner. Whatever.” “You know now that Mom and Dad aren’t dead. We just wanted you to learn to be sensible. To stop targeting Julian.” “You still failed the test, but you are blood. After today, you can move into the Sterling mansion.” Before I could speak, she added: “But first, you have to apologize to Julian. Promise him you will never suggest sending him away again.” I refused flatly.

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She asked me once, her head resting on my chest in the quiet of our shared apartment, “If you ever made it big, Luke, would you leave me?” “Never,” I said. And for the next six years, I kept that promise. Through every failed audition, every soul-crushing rejection, every moment she was ready to give up, I was there. Then, she was the one who made it big. At the Lumina Awards, the industry’s golden night, she stood on stage, tears welling in her mascara-lined eyes, ready to announce the love of her life to the world. The spotlight swept past me, landing instead on the kid I’d taken under my wing. He stood beside Sienna, his own eyes glistening. “Luke, man,” he said, his voice thick with emotion for the cameras. “Thank you for taking care of her all these years. But love and gratitude are two different things. You can’t hold her hostage with kindness.” Sienna’s gaze found mine, and it was as cold as steel. “I transferred a hundred thousand dollars to your account,” she mouthed silently, a final, brutal transaction. “We’re even.” Six years of my life, reduced to a wire transfer. As the internet exploded with headlines branding me the obsessive “other man,” I made a single phone call. “Pull every film Sienna Croft has ever been in from every platform. Effective immediately.” You see, Sienna, you weren’t the only one who made it big. And in that moment, I knew I’d made a mistake all those years ago. If I had been the one to hit the big time first, I would have left you without a second thought. 1 After the awards show, in the sterile quiet of our now-fractured home, Sienna tried to soften the blow. “I’m grateful for the six years we had, Luke. For weathering the storm together,” she’d said, avoiding my eyes. “But you can’t force love. I knew it was over the day you brought Evan home.” She offered a final, hollow olive branch. “We can still be friends, though.” But by the next morning, friendship was the furthest thing from her mind. A coordinated smear campaign erupted online. The six years I’d spent supporting her were twisted into a narrative of coercion and emotional blackmail. Sienna went on a morning talk show, her face a mask of practiced sorrow. “When he first told me how he felt,” she said, dabbing a tear, “I never planned on saying yes. But he used Evan’s situation against me. For six years, I had to do what he said. Taking bad scripts, doing those terrible reality shows… I’m so sorry I gave my fans such a poor experience.” Six years had honed her acting skills to a razor’s edge. She bowed her head, and a single, perfect tear hit the floor. And there he was, right beside her, the boy I’d mentored, his own eyes red-rimmed. “Sienna and I were terrified of what he’d do,” Evan said, his voice trembling. “We never dared to even see each other alone. I never dreamed we’d be able to stand here together, in the light. Thank you all for your support.” Perhaps as a final pang of guilt, Sienna had another hundred thousand dollars wired to my account. I had to laugh. It was a bitter, hollow sound. The resources I’d leveraged for her, the deals I’d brokered from the shadows—the commission alone on any one of them dwarfed this pathetic sum. I didn’t say a word. This was a job for my PR team. The team I had secretly built over the years, a crack unit designed for the sole purpose of protecting Sienna Croft from negative press, was now about to be turned on its original subject. But when I called my department head, his voice was clipped and unfamiliar. “Luke, the entire department is resigning. The letters are on your desk. Sorry, but we won’t be working for you anymore.” The line went dead before I could respond. I scrambled to call the others. Each call went straight to voicemail. They’d all blocked me. The entire department, the one I’d built from the ground up to serve her, had abandoned me. A quick search confirmed my suspicion. They had all been hired by a new boutique agency, a joint venture co-owned by Sienna Croft and Evan Ross. I shrugged, a gesture that felt heavier than it should. They had no idea what they’d just thrown away. I started calling the major PR firms I had on retainer. But something was wrong. The same agency heads who had called me “Luke, my man” for years were now rejecting my calls. One of them, a guy I’d considered a friend, finally picked up. His tone was cautious. “Listen, Luke, I’m telling you this as a friend. Your ex… she’s been hand-picked by a major player. Someone with serious backing. She’s untouchable right now.” He sighed. “She wants to make her new boyfriend a star, and you getting in the way is bad for his image. Take the money and walk away. You don’t want to go up against the person behind her.” The person behind her? A cold smile touched my lips. Who could possibly have more power than me? For six years, I had moved mountains for her, all from the shadows. She never knew the extent of my influence, the true nature of my work. It was all because of that one damn question she’d asked. I was afraid that if she knew who I really was, she’d feel insecure, that our relationship would be built on an imbalance of power. So I played the part of a small-time manager, carefully lifting her up so that one day, she could stand beside me as an equal. Just as I was about to call my real team, my right-hand man, the hospital’s number flashed on my screen. I answered, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. “Mr. Walker? Your father… his room has been surrounded by a mob of radical fans! You need to get here now!” 2 “That’s the bastard’s mom! And if the son is harassing our queen and trying to tear down our king, you can bet the father is just as scummy! Don’t let him get away!” By the time I arrived, the entire hospital corridor was a chaotic sea of screaming fans, their phone cameras held high like weapons. Hospital security was completely overwhelmed. My bodyguards and I forced a path through the throng. Inside the room, I found my father, huddled in a corner, his face bloodied. “The bastard’s here! Get him!” “We’ve been shipping Sienna and Evan for three years, asshole! Who the hell are you to get in their way?” A phone was hurled at my head. My father, despite his injuries, lunged to shield me. The sound of sirens finally pierced the chaos. “Police! Everybody drop what you’re holding!” The mob’s makeshift weapons clattered to the floor. My father was rushed into emergency care. Seething, I pulled out my phone and dialed Sienna. “It was you,” I snarled, my voice raw with fury. “You told them where my dad was. Only you and I knew which hospital he was in.” There was a pause on the other end. When she finally spoke, her voice was cool and detached. “Fans can be resourceful, Luke. They dox people all the time. I know you’re upset about your father, but you can’t just throw baseless accusations around.” She hung up. But she had forgotten something. I still had the password to her private social media accounts. I logged into her official fan Discord server. And there it was, in a private channel for her most dedicated “stans”: a message from her, posting my father’s location and medical information. My hands started to shake. My dad had treated her like his own daughter. After her parents passed, he’d always set a place for her at our dinner table. Before I could screenshot the evidence, the system logged me out. A notification popped up: “Password has been changed.” She knew. My anger was choked by a wave of panic. My father’s doctor appeared, his face grim. “He’s older, Mr. Walker. The assault caused severe internal bleeding. We need to transfer him to a specialized trauma center immediately.” “Then transfer him!” I yelled, my voice cracking. The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Walker… the funds from your account won’t clear.” I froze. My father’s medical expenses were tied to my personal black card. The account held, at a minimum, nine figures. How could there be no money? It took a dozen frantic calls before a friend at the IRS gave me the news. “Someone tipped us off, Luke. An anonymous report with some very convincing-looking documents suggesting money laundering. All your domestic accounts have been frozen pending a full investigation. Don’t worry, if it’s clean, they’ll unfreeze everything eventually.” The floor dropped out from under me. I felt like I was plunging into ice water. 3 My friend didn’t say who reported me, but I knew. Only one person could have fabricated evidence that convincing. The person who had shared my life for the past six years. I hadn’t done it. The authorities would eventually clear my name. But the investigation could take weeks, months. The delay was a death sentence for my father. And then, the knockout blow. The news of the investigation broke online. Sienna was immediately in front of a camera, her eyes artfully red-rimmed. “He could be very controlling,” she said, her voice catching. “He did some terrible things to me and Evan. But he did help us in the past. I… I never thought Mr. Walker was this kind of person.” Evan stood beside her, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. “Was it because of me?” he whispered to the reporter. “Because Sienna and I fell in love? Did we push him over the edge? If I’d never fallen for her, maybe none of this would have happened.” Sienna squeezed his hand tightly. “No, Evan. It’s not your fault.” A photo of her clutching his hand went viral, catapulting to the top of every trending list. A high-resolution shot of Evan’s “perfect tear” became a meme celebrating their tragic, beautiful love. And I became the villain who tried to tear them apart. You two have to stay together forever! Show that monster Luke Walker what real love is! I’m literally crying. My ship is finally sailing! My choice was simple. Cooperate with the investigation and let my father die, or… My fists clenched. Or become the criminal they accused me of being. 4 I discarded the thought as quickly as it came. There had to be another way. I immediately initiated an emergency funding request. But the platforms that usually approved my requests in seconds were now rejecting me outright. I didn’t give up, assuming my name was temporarily toxic due to the money laundering allegations. I tried using a trusted friend’s credentials. The result was the same. Desperate, I called a contact at one of the firms, someone whose career I’d helped build. He spoke in a hushed, nervous whisper. “Luke, stop trying. Ms. Croft put the word out to the entire financial community. A total blackout. Anyone who provides you with capital is blacklisted. She’s got Mr. Morrison behind her, and nobody is willing to cross him.” He hung up and blocked my number. I couldn’t believe Sienna could be so ruthless. She had already used me to launch Evan’s career. Now she was systematically sealing every possible escape route. My eyes fell on the bank card she’d given me. The two hundred thousand dollars. I had sworn I would never touch her pity money. But now… my pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford. My father’s life depended on it. I handed the card to the hospital administrator. She ran it. The machine beeped. “Insufficient funds.” “Mr. Walker,” she said, looking uncomfortable. “It appears Ms. Croft contacted the bank and had the transfer reversed as soon as she heard about your legal troubles.” I nearly collapsed. A nurse had to grab my arm to steady me. My hands trembled. First, the false accusation. Then, clawing back the money meant to buy her a clear conscience. And while I was trapped in this bureaucratic nightmare, she and Evan were basking in the public’s sympathy, their careers soaring. I finally understood. She wasn’t just pushing me out of the way. She was building Evan’s throne on top of my grave. I called her. She let it ring a dozen times before answering. After a long silence, she sighed. “You helped him once, Luke. You couldn’t stand to see him suffer. I can’t stand seeing him as just some nobody in this town. The day you brought him home, bleeding and scared, I knew there was no future for us.” The phone felt like it was about to shatter in my grip. Her voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact. “I admit, I used you. I’ll cover your father’s transfer fees.” The call ended. A moment later, a notification confirmed the deposit. At this critical juncture, I had no choice but to swallow my pride and accept. But as soon as this is over, Sienna, I swear, you will pay for this. 4 (Continued) My father was stabilized, but it was a temporary fix. His ongoing treatment would cost a fortune. To make matters worse, the fan who had assaulted him was defiant, choosing jail time over paying any compensation. My accounts were still frozen. My friends pooled their money and covered a fraction of the bill, a gesture that touched me deeply but barely made a dent. The hospital administrator delivered the grim news: if I couldn’t secure more funding soon, my father would be moved to a standard ward. I sat slumped against the wall in the hallway, the rhythmic beeping of my father’s heart monitor a steady drumbeat of my own failure. Hope was a distant memory. “I hear you’re in need of some capital, Mr. Walker.” A group of men in sharp, ill-fitting suits stood over me. “We can offer you a loan,” the leader said with a slick smile. “But first… we need to see how serious you are.” 5 He showed me their company’s website on a tablet. It wasn’t a legitimate financial institution. This was the underworld of lending, a place of exorbitant interest rates and broken kneecaps. Loan sharks. But I had no other choice. As soon as my accounts were unfrozen, I could pay back any loan, no matter how predatory the terms. “Where’s the contract?” I said, holding out my hand. “I’ll sign. Anything under fifty percent interest is fine.” They laughed. “Slow down, Mr. Walker. We can offer you an interest-free loan.” I stared at him, confused. “All we require,” the man said, his smile turning predatory, “is some… collateral. Something personal.” He slid the tablet over. It was a contract for what amounted to a sex-for-loan agreement, demanding compromising photos and videos. “I’ll take the high-interest loan,” I said, my voice low and hard. “Sorry,” he shrugged, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Ms. Croft’s instructions were specific. This is the only deal on the table for you.” My eyes widened. Sienna. Again. Why was she pushing me this far? What kind of sick game was this? The contract was placed in my hands. The choice was clear: sign away my dignity and save my father, or watch him die. I couldn’t do it. With a roar of fury, I ripped the contract to shreds. “Bad move,” the man sneered, brushing a piece of paper off his suit. “We’re the only ones willing to lend to you. You’ll be back.” A wave of hot rage washed over me. I stumbled to the restroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head. When I walked back out, my blood ran cold. Nurses were forcibly removing my father from his bed, wheeling him out into the hallway on a gurney. I rushed to stop them. “His account is empty,” one of them said, shoving me aside. “This equipment costs ten grand a day, and we have paying patients who need the room. This is a private hospital, Mr. Walker. We’re not a charity.” “No!” They dumped my father onto a cot in the busy corridor and left him there. I scrambled to his side, cradling his head in my arms. “Ms. Croft said the offer still stands,” one of the nurses called over her shoulder with a contemptuous smile. “You can still think about it.” “What did he do to piss off someone like her?” another nurse whispered loudly. “Who knows? But everyone knows who she’s with now. This guy clearly doesn’t know his place.”

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The year Liam and I hated each other the most was the year he tortured and killed the dog I had raised for ten years, just to please his little secretary. In retaliation, I stabbed the secretary five times. I watched her scream and lose her mind like it was a work of art. Everyone thought Liam would take my life. Instead, he just threw divorce papers at me and said coldly: “You’re nothing but a dog the Miller family raised. If you want to be crazy, get out.” After that night, I disappeared. Until five years later, when I attended a gala in my father’s place and saw Liam’s secretary again. She poured red wine on me. “I was wondering who this was. Turns out it’s the dog the Millers threw away.” I grabbed a bottle of champagne and smashed it over her head. “Five years didn’t teach you how to be human. Today, I will.” 1 Sarah’s screams echoed through the hall. Her entourage immediately swarmed in front of her, yelling at me. “Who the hell are you?!” “Do you know who you just hit?!” “Let me tell you,” the loudest one pointed a finger in my face, “she is the fiancée of the heir to the Miller Group! You offend her, and Liam won’t let you off!” Someone even blocked my path, sneering, “I want to see which idiot has no eyes and dares to offend Liam’s heart. Everyone knows Liam is a wife-guy. Usually, if Miss Sarah even loses a hair, Liam turns the world upside down. And you just broke her head open!” Sarah clutched her bleeding forehead, glaring at me viciously. “I’m telling you, Charlotte, I was kind enough to let you go five years ago, but that doesn’t mean I’m afraid of you now! You were just a dog Liam kept at home! Five years ago I could ruin you, and since you dare to show up today, I can ruin you again!” I looked at the changes in Sarah over the last five years. I had to admit. Liam had taken good care of her. The woman who used to timidly call me “Mrs. Miller” could now publicly threaten to “ruin” me. Unfortunately, I’ve never been a pushover. Not five years ago. And certainly not now. Surrounded by the crowd, I looked at the shattered glass on the floor. I bent down, and to everyone’s shock, picked up a sharp shard. I smiled. “Sarah.” I walked towards her step by step. “Five years ago,” I dangled the bloody shard, “I gave you too much face.” “What?” I stared at Sarah’s lower abdomen, dragging the shard’s path through the air from her face down to her stomach. “Stabbing out your uterus wasn’t enough to teach you a lesson?” “In that case.” My smile turned sinister. Before anyone could react, I raised the shard and stabbed it violently towards her stomach. But. Before I could make contact, my wrist was suddenly grabbed. I heard a scream, and then Sarah’s tearful voice. “Liam.” “I’m scared.” Five years ago, when I pinned Sarah to the ground and stabbed her again and again, she had looked at him with the same terrified eyes and cried the same words. “Liam, I’m scared.” Time overlapped. A familiar voice came from behind me. “Charlotte, it’s been five years.” “How come,” Liam’s voice was dark, “you still haven’t learned to behave?” My wrist was yanked hard. The pain made me frown, but I didn’t submit like I did five years ago. Instead, it ignited the suppressed violence in my blood. I gripped the shard tightly, feeling it cut into my own palm. Just as Liam was about to snatch it away… I turned my head quickly and smiled at him. “Long time no see.” “Liam.” I drove the shard deep into Liam’s arm. Blood sprayed, blurring my vision. 2 The venue descended into chaos. I heard countless screams, shouts for security, and whispers of shock. “Who is this woman? Is she crazy?! She dared to stab Liam Miller!” “Wait, I heard Miss Sarah say five years ago… Didn’t Liam kick out an orphan the Miller family adopted, his nominal wife, five years ago? Holy sh*t, is that her?” “Doesn’t look like her.” “I heard that orphan had no family, only a dog. And because the dog offended Miss Sarah, it was tortured to death all night! Everyone in the elite circle has seen that video! The dog was skinned alive!” “Look! Liam is actually laughing!” Blood seeped from Liam’s arm. Sarah screamed, “Liam!” Then, ignoring her own bleeding forehead, she rushed at Liam like a maniac, shielding him behind her and screaming at me. “Charlotte! How dare you hurt Liam!” “The Miller family raised you for twenty years, and this is how you repay them? You ungrateful wolf! Apologize to Liam right now!” Watching Sarah act like the mistress of the Miller household, ordering me around, I only found it amusing. I looked at Liam. “Raised for five years, and you raised a dog to bark for you. Liam, do you feel satisfied?” Sarah’s face went pale. Liam immediately pulled Sarah behind him, just like five years ago. “Charlotte, we were done five years ago.” “I told you, my heart only has Sarah. I won’t love you, and I can’t like you,” Liam looked at me coldly. “I don’t care how you lived these past five years, or how you got an invite to sneak in here.” “But I will never let you return to the Miller family to harm Sarah again.” “Charlotte.” Liam looked down at me from his height. “I could have ignored your existence today, but since you hurt Sarah, you have to pay the price.” Liam clapped his hands, and a group of security guards surrounded us. “Do you choose to do it yourself, or should I?” A guard handed him a knife. Liam took it, waiting for my answer. But I laughed out loud. “Liam, do you think the world revolves around you?” I pointed at the knife in his hand. “If you have the guts, you’d better finish me today,” I stepped closer. “Otherwise, when it’s my turn to deal with you…” “Don’t you dare,” I leaned in close, articulating clearly, “kneel and beg for mercy.” “Hahaha.” My laughter echoed in the silent banquet hall. Liam’s face was dark. Seeing him tremble with rage reminded me of five years ago. He used my dog, Buddy, to force me to kneel and kowtow. He locked Buddy in a cage, taped his mouth shut, and threatened to slice him open if I didn’t beg. My pride was shattered. Watching Buddy in agony, I knelt and begged. “Liam!” I cried and pleaded. “Don’t hurt Buddy.” “I admit it! I was wrong! I know I was wrong!” I only had Buddy. My only wish was to take Buddy and leave the Miller family. I begged desperately. “Let Buddy go! Please let him go!” I will never forget the look of pain in Buddy’s eyes. And I will never forget the hatred carved into my bones. Facing Liam now, all that remains is unburned rage. “Liam, you’re just a dog played by Sarah,” I said word by word. “If your grandfather knew he handed the family to you, he’d crawl out of his grave to strangle you!” “After all, the Miller family is completely finished!” 3 My throat was strangled tight. My breath was stolen. Oxygen was fading. I met Liam’s crimson eyes and heard his vicious, insane voice. “Charlotte, don’t think I won’t kill you!” “You are just a dog of the Miller family,” Liam slammed me onto the floor. Champagne glass shards pierced my skin, cutting countless tiny wounds. The pain made me shudder. Liam grabbed my hair. “If I want you to kneel, you kneel!” “If I want you to die! You die!” Liam smirked at me. “But today, I don’t really want you to die.” “After all,” Liam patted my face, “such a good toy shouldn’t be broken so easily, right?” I looked at Liam, inches away. I remembered the day Sarah sent me that video, her tone bragging. I just told Liam the dog scared me, and he skinned it. Say, if next time I tell Liam you scare me too, will he skin you as well? So funny! Nominally you are Mrs. Miller, but you are lower than a servant. Now, looking at Liam’s expression, a metallic taste rose in my throat. As he raised his hand to slap my face again, I spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm onto his face. Seeing the momentary shock turn to disgust on his face, I laughed. “That’s right, Liam.” “How can you die so quickly,” I mimicked his tone and laughed, “After all, such a fun game has to be played to the end.” Since I came back. I never planned to let the Millers go. Everyone who hurt Buddy will pay. Buddy died a cruel death; how could I spare them? Seeing my stubbornness. Liam suddenly let go of my hair and wiped the bloody spit off his face. “True.” “Some things need to be tortured slowly.” “Since you’re back,” Liam looked at me, “let’s play.” Liam stopped looking at me and ordered the guards. “Watch her.” “Don’t let her run.” Then, Liam returned to his gentle self, turning to Sarah. “Does it hurt?” He gently wiped away Sarah’s tears. “I’ll take you to the private room.” Sarah collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “With you, it doesn’t hurt.” “With you here,” she choked out, “I’m not afraid of anything.” I watched Liam carry Sarah away. I sat on the floor, the tiny cuts stinging. The sycophants around me started spewing venom. “Who does she think she is? Daring to hurt Liam. It’s a mercy he didn’t half-kill her today. Get lost.” “Exactly! I heard before, she’s just an orphan Old Man Miller picked up. The family raised her, and she bit the hand that fed her by attacking Miss Sarah. She deserved to be kicked out.” “By the way,” someone laughed and opened their phone, “I still have the video of that dog.” The person opened their gallery and found the torture video. Others crowded around. “Let me see.” “I want to see too.” 4 Buddy’s screams rang out. It triggered something in me. I picked up a shard from the floor, grabbed that guy by his hair, and stabbed it into his eye. Screams drilled into my ears. I admired it like art, turning to see the people who were pointing at me moments ago now silenced. No one dares to mess with a lunatic. Especially a lunatic like me, who dared to take the life of the Miller heir. Even the security guards didn’t dare touch me. I looked at the crowd of cowards, spat out a mouthful of blood, dropped a “Useless,” and headed in Liam’s direction. Liam took Sarah to the private room and called his private doctor. The doctor carefully examined Sarah’s wound, but she cried, “Don’t look at me, look at Liam.” “I really didn’t expect,” Sarah choked, “Charlotte is even crazier after five years. I shouldn’t have been soft-hearted back then. She’s here now because she can’t let go of you.” “Back then, everyone knew Charlotte loved you to death. Just because you were a little nice to me, she embarrassed me in public and slapped me.” Sarah wiped her tears. “Liam, don’t let her ruin our relationship again, okay?” Liam sat by the bed, holding Sarah’s hand, comforting her softly. “I won’t, don’t worry.” “To me,” Liam scoffed, “Charlotte was just a toy. When I was bored as a kid, I’d lock her in a dark room and scare her with snakes and rats. Listening to her cry was fun.” “Later, I found out she was feeding stray dogs, so I poisoned a few. She actually pulled a knife on me for those animals.” Liam gritted his teeth. “That dog deserved to die.” I reached the door of the private room just in time to hear this. I remembered back then, Liam chained me up for three whole days. I was covered in wounds, yet he still choked me and demanded: “No birth control!” I still remember Liam’s sick, obsessive eyes clearly. “Since playing with you isn’t enough, then carry my seed. I want to see if your bones are still this hard when you’re pregnant with my child!” Later, Buddy brought the Old Man to save me. Buddy went with me to the hospital, where I ensured I could never be a mother. Even if I could never have children. I would never give birth to a child with Liam’s blood. That was also when. Liam decided to kill Buddy. My phone vibrated. I looked at the caller ID, my face softening. “You went to the gala for Dad?” His voice was gentle. “Heard the ex-husband is there too. Why didn’t you wait for me?” Hearing his voice, I couldn’t help complaining. “I’m about to get killed! Come save me before I die!” I hung up. I heard Sarah ask him, “What if Charlotte still wants to be with you?” Before Liam could answer. I kicked open the door. Facing Sarah’s shocked face, Liam immediately shielded her. “Charlotte! You really have no shame!” “You chased us here!” Liam looked at me with amusement. “What, want to come back and be Mrs. Miller? Who do you think you are—” I raised the knife in my hand, rushed to Liam, and stabbed it into his abdomen. I sneered at him. “Liam!” “Go to hell!”

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When my real family found the true daughter they’d been missing, I staged a hunger strike at home. “Now that the real daughter is back, you guys definitely won’t love me anymore. I’m going on a hunger strike. I’m going to enter my villain era.” My big brother, just like when we were kids, smacked me right on the butt. I froze. He turned bright red. After the real daughter moved in, my big brother snuck into my room one night. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you? Little sister.” 1 I always thought if our family ever had some dramatic “switched at birth” scandal, it would surely involve my big brother, Sebastian. Because honestly, the rest of us—Mom, Dad, and me—are total sweethearts with heads full of clouds. Sebastian, on the other hand, is this cool, brilliant, unattainable figure who often seems like he doesn’t belong with us goofballs. When Sebastian came home from work, I was busy packing my bags. He leaned against the doorframe, his long legs crossed. His gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high nose, hiding most of his emotions. But I could still feel his exasperation. He rubbed his temples wearily. “Princess, what are you fussing about now?” I shot him a sideways glance but didn’t stop packing. “Your biological sister is coming back. You guys are going to stop loving me any second now. I’m running away from home. I’m entering my villain era.” Sebastian scoffed. “Villain era? How exactly?” I stood up, annoyed. “None of your business. Anyway, the next time we meet, I won’t be the same Harper you knew.” Saying that, I grabbed a bag bigger than me and swung it onto my shoulder. Momentum took over, and I spun in a circle before face-planting on the floor. Sebastian sighed softly. I looked up at him, pouting, tears ready on command. “I fell and you didn’t even help me up. You just laughed. You don’t love me anymore. Waahhh~” Sebastian resigned himself to his fate and grabbed my arm to help me up. But I refused to budge. Right now, I was harder to wrangle than a greased pig. Sebastian had to crouch down to meet my eyes. He spoke in that gentle tone he uses to coax children. “Be good. Even without a blood relation, our bond over all these years is the same. Eat first, okay?” Sebastian held up a bowl of soup. It was my favorite—corn and pork rib soup. He had even thoughtfully picked out all the scallions. I don’t eat scallions, but I think the soup lacks flavor without them cooked in. So Sebastian always painstakingly picks every single green bit out for me. But I was still mad. I didn’t know what exactly I was mad about, but I was fuming. “I’m not eating. I’m on a hunger strike. You’re not my brother, you have no right to boss me around.” In my struggle, I accidentally knocked the bowl over. Sebastian instinctively moved the bowl away from me. So the entire bowl of hot soup splashed onto him. I watched the pale skin on his arm turn angry red instantly. But Sebastian, as if he couldn’t feel pain, grabbed my wrist with red-rimmed eyes. “What did you say? I’m not what?” Growing up, I was most afraid of Sebastian. I was the late-in-life baby, the only girl in this generation of the Sterling family. Even my strict grandfather would crack a smile when he saw me. So I was spoiled rotten by the family, practically lawless. Only Sebastian, my big brother, strictly managed me. Studies, friends, manners. I was willful and bratty, but thanks to Sebastian, I didn’t grow up crooked and even achieved a little success. I feared him, but I relied on him even more. So when I found out I wasn’t the Sterlings’ biological daughter, the first person I thought of was Sebastian. Big Brother isn’t my big brother anymore. What do I do? 2 Fear and uncertainty made me want to retreat. I couldn’t bear to imagine Sebastian patting another girl’s head with eyes full of adoration, couldn’t bear him telling me I wasn’t his favorite sister anymore. When I was little, I cried for three days straight when I learned Sebastian would eventually marry another girl. Now, even the sibling bond was gone? I was scared. My first instinct was to run. If I ran, I wouldn’t have to face it. Like an ostrich burying its head in the sand. But I didn’t mean to hurt him. I pouted, tears falling like broken pearls. Seeing me like this, Sebastian sighed in resignation. He used his uninjured arm to gently pull me into his embrace. “Don’t worry. Whether you are a Sterling by blood or not, Big Brother loves you.” He paused before the last two words, saying them softly, but I heard them. Hearing Sebastian’s familiar gentle voice, my anxious heart settled a little. I leaned into his chest and bawled, soaking his custom-made shirt until the pink of his skin showed through. Tired from crying, I looked up slightly and rubbed the top of my fluffy head against Sebastian’s chin. Like a little kitten. I’ve always acted cute like this with him since I was small. “What’s wrong?” Sebastian scratched my chin. “Big Brother, I’m sorry.” Sebastian gently patted my hair. “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt.” “How could it not hurt? It’s all red.” Sebastian hesitated before speaking. “Blow on it for me, Harper, and it won’t hurt.” I looked at this usually staid and serious brother in confusion. Was he acting cute? But I gently blew on his arm anyway. Looking up, I saw Sebastian’s pale face was flushed red. “Big Brother, do you have a fever?” Sebastian turned his head and coughed. “No. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” “Why didn’t you dodge earlier?” “If I dodged, it would have scalded you.” Sebastian pressed my head deeper into his chest, sighed lightly, and rested his chin on top of my head. “As long as I’m here, I won’t let you get hurt.” Hearing this, my eyes reddened again. I wrapped my arms around his waist and sobbed quietly into his chest. I felt Sebastian’s body stiffen instantly under my hands, muscles going taut. “Big Brother?” I looked up, staring at him with teary eyes. Sebastian put me down from his embrace and awkwardly scratched the bridge of his nose. “Stop acting cute. Eat your dinner.” I sat at the small table. Just as I picked up my spoon, my second brother, Julian, ran over excitedly. “Sebastian! Sebastian! The new sister is back! She’s gorgeous!” My hand shook, and the spoon fell back into the bowl. “I knew you guys didn’t want me anymore. I’m entering my villain era. I’m running away.” Sebastian shot a glare at Julian at the door, a look that promised murder. 3 I dragged my giant bag, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the door. I knew it wasn’t very imposing, but I had no choice—it was too heavy. Just as I reached the living room, I saw the three of them walking in, all smiles. The moment I saw Vivian, I froze. Julian, the idiot, said dopeyly, “Sebastian, look, this is the new sister.” Sebastian shot another glare, and Julian shut his mouth resentfully. “Harper.” Sebastian spoke with concern. I raised a hand to stop him, kicked the giant bag over to Julian’s feet, and walked towards Vivian in a daze. I reached out and touched her face. Warm. It’s a living Vivian. “Are you really Vivian Vaughn?” Vivian paused, then smiled and nodded. “The Vivian Vaughn who joined the band Neon Riot as lead singer before even graduating.” Girls, do you understand? I am meeting my idol. The real daughter is my idol. Ahhh~~~ A fangirl screech echoed in my head. “I’m your fan! Can I have an autograph?” Vivian graciously agreed. “We have a show next month. I’ll send you some VIP pit tickets. You can bring your friends.” Ahhh~~~ VIP tickets I couldn’t even buy with money! I held her face and kissed her on both cheeks. “Sis, you are my biological sister!” “I also love that cute drummer boy in your band. He looks so sweet but plays the drums so wild and cool.” “Sure, I’ll introduce you guys sometime. Let’s grab dinner.” Sebastian suddenly stepped in, pulling me aside. “Harper, your sister is tired.” “Right, right, right.” I affectionately pulled Vivian towards the stairs. “Sister, let me take you to your room. It’s right next to mine. Our rooms get the best light.” As we passed Julian, he suddenly spoke up. “So, are you still running away from home?” “Shut up.” I turned back to Vivian with a smile. “Don’t listen to his nonsense. Never happened.” I pressed my face against her arm. “Sister is so cool. Cuddles for Sister.” 4 That night, I went for a walk in the back garden to clear my head. Vivian was nice, and she was the idol I’d always loved. The Sterling family treated me the same as always, maybe even with a bit more caution. But my heart felt heavy. Suddenly, I saw Sebastian and Vivian talking in the gallery. That gallery was built specifically for me by Sebastian. It was filled with my paintings. He had said it was a secret base belonging only to him and me. Now, he and his new sister were standing in it. I watched him smile and pat Vivian on the head. It felt like a jar of boiling water shattered in my heart—a burning pain. Before, Big Brother only patted my head. The moment Sebastian looked at me, my only thought was to run. Run somewhere they couldn’t find me. Ignoring him calling my name from behind, I ran to the garage, grabbed a random car, and bolted. I found a nearby bar, wanting to numb my emotions with alcohol. My heart really hurt. Big Brother wasn’t just my big brother anymore. His doting love for me was finally given to someone else. So how was I supposed to face him in the future? Drink after drink poured into my stomach. But the more I drank, the more wrong things felt. My head was dizzy, my body was getting hotter and hotter, and panic was setting in. I tried to stand up and leave, but a man reeking of stale smoke grabbed me. “Little sister, all alone? Want big brother to show you a good time?” I struggled desperately, but I had no strength at all. Just as I was on the brink of despair, I smelled a familiar scent of pine and cypress. I heard two grunts of pain, and then everything around me went quiet. Vaguely, I heard a helpless sigh. Hot. So hot. In the back seat of the Cullinan, I desperately searched for anything that could cool me down. Next to me was a soft body that felt cool to the touch. I clung to it like a koala, pushing aside annoying clothes, using my face and lips to absorb every bit of coolness. “So cool, so nice.” My voice was thin and alluring. “Harper, look clearly at who I am.” I lifted my hazy eyes, rims red, tears brimming. “Big Brother, it feels awful. Help me.” Suddenly, my lips were captured, sucked on. Like a dying person in the desert, I frantically drank the life-saving water. “Help me, please, it hurts so much.” “Okay, Big Brother will help you.” My lower body suddenly felt cool. It felt like all the blood in my body was boiling… I bit my lower lip tight, but broken moans still escaped my throat. My mouth was suddenly blocked by a pair of soft lips. The moans were drowned out between teeth and lips. “Don’t make a sound, Harper.” The movements got faster and faster, too fast for me to handle. “Harper, I’m saving you. Don’t hate me.” Finally, my whole body tensed, spasmed, and then slowly went limp. The burning heat inside me slowly dissipated. I felt exhausted, and my consciousness drifted away uncontrollably.

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The day I announced my retirement, the internet threw a party. Twitter threads unraveled my career, Reddit celebrated my demise, and the industry breathed a collective sigh of relief. Only one person defended me publicly. Sophie. My boyfriend’s childhood best friend. “Maya is a brilliant voice in our industry. Losing her is a tragedy for cinema,” she posted, adorned with a heartbroken emoji. I was a top-tier screenwriter. My scripts didn’t just get made; they started bidding wars. But in my past life, Sophie had turned in a script identical to mine at the prestigious Horizon Screenwriting Lab. On the day of the awards, my boyfriend, Adrian—the golden boy of indie film—produced “evidence” that I was the thief. He claimed he was protecting the true talent: Sophie. I was buried under an avalanche of cancel culture. Lawsuits piled up. The debt collectors banged on my door at all hours. And on the day Adrian and Sophie went public with their romance, I drowned in the bathtub of my foreclosed apartment. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. The Horizon Awards. The moment before the fall. 1 “This is it, Maya. This is the one. We’re talking Oscars.” The voice belonged to Silas Grant, a director with a Midas touch and a shark’s smile. I jolted, the phantom sensation of water filling my lungs making me gasp. I blinked, the harsh studio lights stinging my eyes. I wasn’t in the tub. I was in the conference room at Paradigm Studios. My assistant and the legal team were staring at me. “Maya? The pen,” Silas urged, sliding the thick contract across the mahogany table. “Sign it so we can pop the champagne.” I didn’t reach for it. This script, The Unraveling, was my magnum opus. It had taken two years of bloodletting to write. In my previous life, I signed this contract with a shaking, happy hand. Thirty minutes later, Sophie was announced as the winner of the Horizon Grant with a script that mirrored mine scene for scene. Later, I wrote a short film to try and save my career. When I submitted it, I was told it was a 90% match to a script Sophie had registered the day before. She had mailed the drafts to herself to establish a timeline. I couldn’t prove a thing. Overnight, I went from “Genius” to “Hack.” I looked up at Silas. My throat felt like it was full of broken glass. “I’m sorry, Silas. I can’t sign this.” Silas’s smile didn’t drop, but his eyes went cold. “Excuse me? We agreed on terms. Walking away at the eleventh hour is suicide in this town.” “I can’t explain right now,” I said, my voice steadying. “I will give you a result, I promise. But I cannot put my signature on this document today.” He slammed a hand on the table. “Do you know how much prep we’ve done? You think you can toy with us because you have a couple of hits? You’re nobody without a director, Maya.” Silas could blacklist me with a phone call. He was the gatekeeper. But before I could speak, a junior exec checked her phone and gasped. “Sophie just started trending. She sold a script to Apex… the logline sounds exactly like The Unraveling.” Silas snatched the phone, read the tweet, and glared at me. “What is this?” I frowned, feigning confusion. “Silas, I swear, I didn’t plagiarize.” “You didn’t?” He laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “So what, she plagiarized you? The girl who’s been locked in a wifi-free writer’s colony for a month?” That was the trap. The Horizon Lab was a black box. No internet, monitored devices. If I claimed the script was mine now, everyone would assume I was the one who stole it from the “sequestered genius.” I stood up, smoothing my blazer. “Give me one week. I will write you something new. Something better. I won’t delay production.” Silas stared at me, calculating. My track record bought me a sliver of grace. “One week,” he hissed. “If you don’t have a script that blows my mind, you’re finished in Los Angeles.” 2 On the drive home, my phone buzzed. Adrian: Babe, Sophie won the grant! Taking her out for drinks to celebrate. Don’t wait up. Adrian and Sophie. They shared a history I couldn’t touch—sandbox friends, secrets, a bond forged in their quaint hometown. I used to edit Sophie’s work at Adrian’s request. It was amateurish, derivative. When I gave notes, she’d cry, and Adrian would accuse me of being threatened by her “raw potential.” I eventually stopped trying. In my last life, Adrian had been the one to twist the knife. He went on Good Morning America with timestamps and metadata, claiming I had access to Sophie’s cloud. It was all premeditated. Adrian had been funneling my work to her. But right now, rage was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I needed a new script. I packed a bag—just sweats and my laptop—and drove three hours to my cabin in Idyllwild. I bought this place last year as a sanctuary. In the other timeline, the bank seized it before I ever spent a night. I locked the doors. I unplugged the router. For seven days, I wrote like a woman possessed. I poured the grief of my death, the cold water, the betrayal, and the burning desire for rebirth into the pages. Adrian didn’t call once. He was probably too busy toasting to their victory. When I typed FADE OUT, I felt lightheaded. It was dark, gritty, and real. I drove to the local library to use their secure connection and emailed the PDF to Silas. Ten minutes later, he called. “Maya,” he breathed, the aggression gone. “This is… visceral. You’re a witch. Come to the office tomorrow. We’re fast-tracking this.” “I’ll be there.” I drove back to the cabin and collapsed onto the bed, sleeping for fourteen hours straight. I woke up to my ringtone screaming. It was Silas. He sounded apoplectic. “What kind of game are you playing? Sophie just signed a deal with Apex for a script that is virtually identical to what you sent me!” I sat up, the room spinning. “That’s impossible.” “Check Twitter,” he spat. “And lose my number. We’re done.”

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Anton Ryder took three bullets for me. Each one should have been fatal. He practically offered his life to my father in exchange for my hand in marriage. Seeing his raw desperation, my father finally relented, offering the Syndicate’s Patriarch’s Seal—the ultimate symbol of power—as my dowry. But the day before our wedding, war broke out on our borders. Anton had to lead the charge. Before he left, he kissed me hard. “Wait for me, my love,” he whispered. “When I come back, I promise you won’t be leaving our bed.” Three years later, he returned. I took our two-year-old son deep into the desert territories to welcome him home. But when his convoy arrived, he stepped out carrying a frail, beautiful woman in a white dress. One of his men asked what was to be done with me. Anton took a long drag from his cigarette, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “Her old man’s dead. Who else does she have to rely on but me? Besides, the Patriarch’s Seal is in my hands now. I can marry whomever I please. And anyway,” he added with a chuckle, “she’s already given me a healthy son. She’ll be begging me for a proper title soon enough.” The men around him erupted in laughter. He seemed to have forgotten one crucial detail. The Seal was merely a symbol. I am the one and only heir to the Vance family. And my son can live without a father. 1. The jeering laughter continued, only to be cut short by the woman’s soft cough. Anton’s voice was instantly laced with concern. “Sera, my love, what is it? Are you feeling unwell again? Don’t worry, I’ll have a doctor see you right away…” Seraphina shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s just… the air here. I’m not used to it yet.” “I’m so sorry, Sera. That’s my fault,” Anton said, his tone apologetic. “The air in your room is too dry, it won’t help your recovery. Don’t worry, Elara’s room is the best in the entire compound, it gets the morning sun. I’ll have her switch with you.” Seraphina demurred softly, “Wouldn’t that upset your wife?” Anton’s voice was laced with a pained tenderness. “I told you, don’t call her that in private. You’ve been my woman for a long time now.” At this, the men in the room broke into another round of lewd, knowing chuckles. Seraphina, blushing, buried her face in Anton’s chest. When Anton had carefully carried her from the vehicle, his story to me had been different. He’d claimed she was a sister he’d adopted on the road. “Elara, her entire family was captured and executed by the enemy,” he’d explained. “If she hadn’t risked her life to bring us intel, you’d be waiting for my corpse right now. She’s been frail since she was a child and suffered with me on the front lines for three years. With her family gone, I took her in as my sworn sister. You don’t mind, do you?” If she were truly just a sister, of course I wouldn’t have minded. But it was clear now. It wasn’t a sister he’d adopted, but a wife he’d already taken. Suddenly, one of the men voiced a concern. “The First Lady has always had a fiery temper, boss. She loves you so much. If she finds out, all hell is going to break loose.” Another chimed in. “Yeah, she waited three years for you. What are you going to do if she demands her title?” Seraphina’s tone was laced with worry. “He’s right, Anton. Please don’t fight with the First Lady over me. I couldn’t live with the guilt.” But Anton just laughed, completely at ease. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ve already thought of everything. She’s used to being the princess. She’ll definitely throw a fit when she finds out, and I don’t want her taking it out on you. So, here’s the plan: I’m marrying you, that’s set in stone. On the day of the wedding, I’ll announce that we’re throwing a big birthday party for our son.” “She’ll never refuse that,” he continued, a smug look on his face. “By the time the party’s over, you and I will be officially married, the papers signed. It’ll be too late for her to do anything. With a two-year-old son, she’ll have no choice but to swallow her pride and stay by my side, without a title, for the rest of her life.” His words were met with murmurs of admiration. “Brilliant, boss! Only you could think of something like that!” “No wonder you had the boss’s daughter wrapped around your finger, willing to give you a son and wait faithfully for three years!” The room exploded with laughter once more. And through it all, Seraphina’s playful voice. “Oh, Anton, you’re terrible! You had me worried for nothing!” Anton stroked her hair. “Then let me make it up to you right now.” With that, he cupped the back of her neck and crushed his lips to hers. I turned away in silence. The old me would have kicked down the door, smashed everything in sight, and put a gun to Seraphina’s head, forcing her to kneel, apologize, and get the hell out. But motherhood had changed me. The sand you can’t hold, you let fall. The people by your side are what matter most. As the Vance heiress, my life has always been shadowed by danger. Anton had saved me countless times, taking bullets to his waist, his chest, even the back of his head. Each time, covered in his own blood, he would hold me tight and soothe me. “Don’t be afraid, Elara. I’m here. Anyone who wants to touch you will have to step over my dead body.” He loved me more than his own life. Or so I believed. But not all truths are meant to last forever. As I turned to leave, the door behind me creaked open. Anton’s voice, sharp with panic. “Elara?” “When did you get here?” 2. I didn’t turn around. My own voice was unnervingly calm. “Just now.” Anton let out a quiet sigh of relief. He stepped forward, pulling me into his arms, his voice a low whisper in my ear. “Elara, I’ll come to you tonight. I’ve thought of you every single night for these past three years.” I didn’t move, didn’t respond. He must have sensed my coldness, because his voice became cautious. “Elara, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy I’m back?” I was about to push him away when a delicate female voice cut through the air. Seraphina coughed into her hand. “Oh, sister-in-law, you’re here. My health is so poor, that’s the only reason my brother came to check on me. Please, don’t get the wrong idea.” At the sound of her voice, Anton immediately released me. The concern in his eyes was unmistakable. “The wind is strong out here. What are you doing outside?” Seraphina stepped toward us. “I heard your wife’s voice, so I wanted to come and say hello. Please don’t mind him, sister-in-law. He’s always been a worrier. He took care of me personally for the last three years, it’s just instinct now.” She wore a mask of sincerity. I looked at her pale face. “The Vance family can afford to feed another mouth. But we don’t shelter vipers.” Her smile froze. Anton’s brow furrowed, his voice a low growl. “Elara! She’s my sister, which makes her your sister too. Watch your mouth.” I gave him a cool glance. “I’ve always been abrasive, haven’t I?” His jaw worked, but before he could retort, Seraphina leaned weakly against the doorframe, her voice trembling with hurt. “Sister-in-law, I know you hate me, but I never wanted to take anything from you… I’m just… I’m so weak, I need my brother to look after me…” “He’s been by my side day and night. I understand why you’re angry. If you don’t like me here… I’ll just leave.” With that, she turned and staggered away. Anton shot me a furious glare and immediately chased after her. “Sera, don’t run! Your body can’t take the strain! I’m in charge of the Vance family now, you don’t have to listen to a word she says! Sera!” The two of them disappeared around the corner of the courtyard. Just as Seraphina turned the corner, my son, Leo, came toddling out, running right into her legs. Seraphina cried out, her foot slipped, and she crumpled to the ground. Anton knelt and swept her into his arms. “Sera, are you alright?” She lifted the hem of her skirt. A gash on her shin was bleeding freely. Rage contorted Anton’s face. He whirled on Leo. “Who told you to run around like that! Get out of my sight!” Leo burst into tears. “Mama… I want my mama…” I rushed forward, pulling him into my arms and kneeling to soothe him. “It’s okay, Leo, Mommy’s here. Don’t cry, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t be scared, Mommy’s got you.” The nanny who had been chasing him finally caught up, breathless. “First Lady, the young master was crying for you, I couldn’t stop him…” My voice was ice. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. The staff in this house usually know how to watch where they’re going.” Anton’s voice was a cold accusation. “Is this how you raise our son? No wonder he’s so unruly!” Seraphina leaned against Anton, her voice faint. “Brother, Leo is just a child, don’t scare him… I only fell and bled a little. I’m used to being hurt.” Then she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a tragic sorrow. “Sister-in-law, it was my fault. You were right to scold me. I wasn’t looking where I was going and ran into the young master. I’ll apologize to him.” She struggled to get up from Anton’s arms, crying out in pain at the slightest movement. Anton’s face filled with anguish. He scooped her up. “What are you apologizing for? If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’m his father, and I failed to teach him properly.” He looked at me and Leo with cold eyes. “Leo, I wasn’t here to raise you. But Elara, as his mother, you bear the most responsibility! I can’t trust you to raise him alone. You’ll only teach him your bad habits. Now that Sera is here, she can help. She’s well-mannered, gentle, and kind. She can teach Leo to be a good man.” My voice was dangerously low. “What are you saying?” Anton’s expression was grim. “I’m saying Leo will be raised by Sera from now on. You can go back to being the First Lady of the Vance Syndicate.” “In your dreams!” I spat. Anton’s tone was absolute. “I am the head of this family. I have that right. More importantly, Leo is my son. As his father, my right is absolute.” He set Seraphina down and roughly grabbed Leo. “A man takes responsibility for his actions. He must be punished.” “Now, you will kneel and apologize to your Aunt Sera!” He pressed down on Leo’s small shoulders, trying to force him to his knees… 3. Leo screamed, struggling wildly. “No! I want Mommy! I want Mommy!” My fists clenched. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I yelled for the house steward, snatched the pistol from his holster, and pressed the cold barrel against Anton’s forehead. My hand was perfectly steady. “Anton, you lay another finger on my son, and I swear I will kill you.” He sneered. “You’re pointing a gun at me with the skills I taught you?” He grabbed my hand, forcing the muzzle of the gun harder against his own temple. “Right here. Do it. Don’t go soft on me now. My body has room for another bullet for you.” I stared into his blazing eyes, my finger tightening on the trigger. “Fine. Then I’ll grant you your wish…” Before I could finish, Seraphina threw herself between us, shoving me hard. She crumpled to the ground, sobbing. “No! First Lady, please, don’t hurt him! Whatever he’s done wrong, take it out on me!” “My life is worthless,” she cried, “but Anton has to lead the entire Syndicate! His life is more important!” Anton ignored me and Leo completely, rushing to Seraphina’s side. The fall had split her lip, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. He lifted her into his arms and started for the door. “Sera, stop talking. Nothing is more important than your life. If she dares to touch you, I will never forgive her.” As he carried her away, Seraphina looked back over his shoulder, a triumphant smirk twisting her lips. The nanny took Leo from my arms, her teeth clenched in anger. “First Lady, the master has gone too far! If you hadn’t defied your sick father back then, if you hadn’t personally led a relief team to support his flank, he never would have made it out of that ambush alive. You nearly died for him, First Lady! Why won’t you let us tell him the truth? If he knew…” I raised a hand, cutting her off. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Leo was still terrified, his little arms reaching for me. I took him and held him close. After I got him back to his room and he’d fallen asleep, I summoned the steward. “Take my token. Send a message to the Prince of the West Side. Tell him… I accept his offer.” The steward was one of our oldest retainers. He hesitated. “First Lady, that man’s temperament is… volatile. You must think this through. Everyone knows he was trying to seize Vance territory even when your father was alive. If you agree now, he might…” “I have my own plans,” I interrupted. “Just go.” The steward had no choice but to obey. Late that night, a commotion in the courtyard woke Leo. It was Anton, returning from the hospital with Seraphina. I quickly sat up, pulling Leo into my arms. “Shh, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.” Leo was wide awake now. He burrowed into my chest, his big eyes looking up at me. “Mama, does Daddy not want us anymore?” A pain lanced through my heart. I looked into my son’s eyes and gently kissed his forehead. “You have me. That’s all that matters.” He snuggled closer, his small hands clutching my shirt. My son. Elara Vance’s son. I was all he needed. The next day, Anton came to apologize. “I know you’re still angry,” he began, “but it was just an act. Sera saved my life. She was almost eaten by wolves for me. I have to show her I’m on her side.” “I’ve been thinking,” he continued, “our son’s birthday is coming up. Let’s throw him a huge party. We can announce to everyone that I, Anton Ryder, have a son!” A cold smile touched my lips. So, it begins. 4. The man from the West Side replied quickly. “I return in five days. The bride price is already prepared.” Five days. The same day as Leo’s birthday party. Anton went all out for the party, a grand affair. But I noticed that his closest men looked at me with strange, pitying expressions whenever they saw me. The night before the party, Seraphina burst into the dining room, wearing a wedding gown. “Oh, sister-in-law, I’m so sorry! I got lost. I didn’t mean to come here. I was just trying on my dress, and Anton told me to take a walk to clear my head, and I must have taken a wrong turn.” I gave her a flat look. “If you’re lost, then get out. My aim won’t be off a second time.” Her face went pale. She gathered the massive skirt of her gown to turn, and in doing so, knocked a vase off a display shelf. She screamed. Just then, Anton’s anxious voice came from the doorway. “Sera, what are you doing in here? Come back with me.” He rushed in, shot a quick glance at me and Leo, and grabbed Seraphina’s hand to pull her away. I stared at the shattered porcelain on the floor, a cold rage building inside me. “Stop. Who said you could leave?” The steward immediately stepped forward. “Miss Seraphina, you have just broken an heirloom left by the late Mrs. Vance. It was the First Lady’s most cherished possession.” Seraphina’s face turned ashen. “I… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know it was some unlucky thing from a dead person…” Anton pulled her behind him. “Elara, what is this? Are you trying to settle scores?” My voice was frigid. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Anton snorted. “Well, I say no. And I’d like to see anyone here try to touch her.” The steward’s hand went to his gun, but Anton was faster. He drew his own pistol and fired, the bullet tearing through the steward’s wrist. As the steward’s gun clattered to the floor, Anton’s was already aimed at me. “Elara,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “want to try me, too?” So this is what it felt like to have a gun pointed at you by the man you loved. The steward knelt on the floor, clutching his wrist, his face white with pain as blood seeped through his fingers. “First Lady…” I said nothing more. Seeing my surrender, Anton turned and left with Seraphina. Five days later, a grand procession from the West Side, bearing wedding gifts, entered the gates of the Vance compound. At the same time, Leo’s birthday party was in full swing. And another set of gifts was being brought in—Anton’s wedding gifts for Seraphina. With all the commotion, no one paid any attention to the men from the West. Holding Leo, I stood at the top of the grand staircase. I walked down the red carpet that had been laid out, and straight into the bridal car waiting to take me to the West Side. Before I left, I gave an order to the still-recovering steward. “Tell our men to move out. They follow me. Now.” At the party, Seraphina, in her wedding dress, toasted with Anton. The hours passed. The party wound down. I never appeared. Anton finally grew restless. He sent a man to my private quarters to find me. The man returned in a panic. “Boss, the First Lady is gone!” Anton didn’t believe it. “How is that possible!”

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A billionaire heir posted a job listing on the campus forum: [My girlfriend has a temper. Looking for a little helper to run errands, buy food, and keep her happy. Salary: $15,000/month.] As soon as the post went up, girls swarmed it. Some wanted the money; others wanted to get close to the prince and replace the princess. When it was my turn, Julian narrowed his eyes, looking bored. “Wait on her hand and foot, no complaints. Can you do that?” “Oh, and one more thing: don’t ever catch feelings for me.” I agreed. But later, on the night I announced my relationship with someone else… He cornered me against a wall, asking word by word: “Is he richer than me? Does he treat you better than I do? Why do you want to be with him?” 1 Julian prepaid me three months’ salary. A total of $45,000. He didn’t even blink. He just said, “I looked into it. Your family situation is special. Take this first.” He was right. My parents died early, and my grandma raised me. But recently, Grandma got into a car accident and was lying in the hospital. The daily bills were crushing me like a boulder. I pressed my lips together. “Thank you. I will do this job well.” He raised an eyebrow, his tone casual and arrogant. “Of course. Bella is my ancestor. Serve her well, and you’ll be rewarded.” I nodded. “Okay.” Honestly, I didn’t expect this pie to fall into my lap. I wasn’t lively, and my presence in class was practically zero. Of course, I later learned from Bella what Julian actually said about me. He said: “That girl looks average, her social skills are average, and she seems honest. A bit like… an ancient maidservant. Only someone like that can handle your temper.” So, from that day on, I became Bella’s personal servant. One call, and I was there. In less than two months, I lost a noticeable amount of weight. She had a temper. She’d call me stupid at the drop of a hat, and when she got emotional, she’d slap me in public. My roommate, Zoey, found out and was indignant for me. “This money doesn’t seem easy to earn.” “She doesn’t even treat you like a human being.” “I really envy Bella. Just relying on a pretty face to make Julian treat her like that.” I had actually heard some stories about Julian and Bella. They were high school sweethearts. Bella came from an average family. After they got together, Julian covered her tuition and living expenses. In college, she didn’t want to live in the dorms, so he bought her an apartment across the street. You could say half of Bella’s temper was spoiled into existence by Julian. Speaking of which, Zoey suddenly grabbed my face and examined it. “Nina, if you put on makeup and pinned up your bangs, you’d definitely be prettier than Bella.” “Find a rich boyfriend too, and you won’t have to suffer like this.” 2 Of course, I didn’t think I was suffering. That was $45,000! I had never seen so much money in my life. If I had any wish right now, it would be for the golden couple, Julian and Bella, to stay together forever. But the next day, I received bad news. They had a fight. Bella smashed everything in the apartment. Then she called me over: “Clean this up, and make me something to eat.” I rushed to do it. Halfway through, my phone rang. I opened it. Julian sent me a message. [Are you at her place? How is she?] I glanced at Bella not far away. She had just showered and was sitting on the sofa with a face mask on, watching a popular drama on her tablet. I considered my words carefully. I replied: [Maybe you should come coax her?] I hoped they would make up. Otherwise, I was at risk of unemployment at any moment. Unless Julian’s next girlfriend was also high-maintenance and needed a servant. Julian didn’t reply. About twenty minutes later, the porridge I made was ready. I served it and was about to put it on the dining table. But Bella suddenly stood up from the sofa and ran past me, bumping into me. The bowl shattered, and the scalding porridge spilled all over my wrist. It was so hot I couldn’t help but hiss. Bella glanced at me. “Oops, why are you so careless?” “Clean it up yourself. I’m going to change. Julian is coming over.” With that, she went into her room. I endured the pain, squatting down to clean up the mess bit by bit. About ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Bella had changed into a pure white dress and put on light makeup, looking like a princess. And I was the princess’s maid. Grey and dusty, standing in the corner, waiting for her next command. The door opened, and I saw Julian. Every time he saw Bella, he brought gifts. Jewelry, bags, roses. Everything was jaw-droppingly expensive. Tonight was no exception. Bella looked at the luxury items in his hand and huffed. “You finally decided to come?” Julian stood at the door coaxing her, chuckling as he kissed her cheek. “Of course. No matter what, I can’t let you stay mad, right?” His tone was gentle, completely different from the Julian at school. 3 I had seen Julian a long time ago. I heard his family was not only rich but powerful. He was always surrounded by friends. When we first started college, I actually had a very brief encounter with him. I was working part-time at a karaoke bar. All kinds of people went there. Someone grabbed me and tried to force me to drink. It was Julian who blocked me, his voice cold: “Bullying a little girl? Are you even a man?” I didn’t expect him to be so humble in front of Bella. Soon, Julian entered the apartment. Bella saw me and said, “You can go back. We don’t need you here.” Then she took Julian’s arm, rested her head on his shoulder, and pointed to the food on the table. “I made all of this. Looks good, right?” I stood there, gently pinching my palm. Actually, I was used to it. In the past two months, Bella made me knit scarves, bake desserts, and write love letters. And in the end, in front of Julian, these all became things she personally did. Julian looked up, his gaze landing on the food. He patted Bella’s hair. “Mm, nice.” At this point, I felt like an eyesore, a very bright lightbulb. “I won’t disturb you two. I’m heading back to school.” Bella couldn’t wait for me to leave. “Mm.” I nodded and walked past them. Halfway to the door, Julian suddenly spoke, stopping me. He said: “Hey, you.” “Wait downstairs. I’ll drive you back.” Bella froze, a bit angry. “What do you mean? Aren’t you staying with me?” Julian coaxed her. “I have something to do. Be good, I’ll take you for seafood tomorrow.” Bella gave Julian a reproachful look, then stood on tiptoes and whispered something in his ear. I wisely went downstairs first. After waiting for about twenty minutes, Julian came down. His collar was slightly open, revealing a small red mark on his neck. A bit ambiguous. I glanced once and looked away. In the car, Julian sent a few more messages to Bella. After sending them, he put down his phone and turned his head, glancing at my wrist. He raised an eyebrow slightly. “I saw it earlier.” “Tell me, what happened?” I froze. He actually noticed. But I couldn’t tell him his girlfriend did it. He wouldn’t believe me, and he wouldn’t stand on my side. Worst case, I’d lose my job. I said, “Nothing, just accidentally scalded myself.” Julian didn’t pry. He sighed. “I’ll take you to the hospital.” Hospitals burn money. With my current financial situation, I couldn’t afford it. I quickly said, “No… no need.” Julian frowned. I waved my hand in front of him. “Really, it doesn’t hurt. No need to go. Let’s just go back to school.” “I still have to buy breakfast for Miss Bella tomorrow.” Bella was picky. She loved soup dumplings from a shop on Jiangning Road and red date porridge from Suian Street. Both places were far from campus. Every morning, I had to wake up at least an hour early to satisfy the princess’s stomach. I heard Julian used to do this himself. Hearing this, Julian narrowed his eyes. After a long while, he said, “Alright then.” Then he took out his phone and tapped on the screen. “I transferred you some money. Buy some ointment.” I looked. $3,000. This injury was so worth it. On the way, Julian’s phone kept ringing. He casually played a few voice messages. The last one was from a man. His voice was low, laced with laughter. “Isn’t your little ancestor’s birthday next month?” “How are you planning to celebrate this year? I’ll help you set it up.” Julian tutted. “Big, of course.” “By the way, I’ll ask Bella to bring her friend. See if there’s anyone you like. Master Xu, you’re twenty-two, time to date.” Soon, we arrived at the school gate. I got out and walked toward the entrance. But after two steps, a voice came from behind. His tone was lazy. “You’ve worked hard these days.” “If you encounter any difficulties in the future, you can tell me directly.” I stopped. I’m twenty this year. To survive, I’ve washed dishes, delivered food, and worked as a hotel receptionist, enduring day after day until I was nearly numb. I’ve seen all kinds of employers, but never one as kind as him. I didn’t turn back. “Okay.” “Thank you.” 4 The next afternoon, I went to the hospital. I paid the fees and chatted with Grandma. Her speech was a bit slurred. But I understood. She was asking, Nina, where did you get the money? How did you afford such an expensive nurse? I said, “Don’t worry, there are lots of kind people. Everyone is helping me.” After that, I received a call from Bella. “Bring me a jacket.” She sent an address. It was a bar. I quickly agreed. When I arrived, I realized Julian was there too. They were sitting together, playing dice. Bella took the jacket and casually said, “Find a place to sit.” I said okay and found a corner. Just then, my counselor sent a message asking me to go to her office. I stood up and walked to Bella, intending to tell her. But before I could speak, everything went pitch black. Power outage. The crowd instantly panicked, and I was pushed and nearly fell. Just then, a hand steadied me firmly. He held my hand and led me out of the crowd. His grip was surprisingly strong. I tried to tell him to let go several times, but it was too loud; he couldn’t hear. I don’t know how long it took before he let go. He pulled me into his arms, squatted down slightly, and rubbed his nose against my forehead. “Scared?” I froze for a moment before finding my voice. “Julian?” At that moment, the lights came back on. The man looked at me, quickly let go, and took a step back. His gaze was obscure. After a long time, he spoke. “Sorry.” “Mistook you for someone else.” I nodded. “It’s okay, I know.” I spent a lot of time with Bella, so my clothes picked up her perfume. Coincidentally, Bella had cut bangs a few days ago. Though she looked much better with them than I did. I quickly left the bar. After that, Bella intentionally showed off her affection in front of me several times. Whatever she wanted, Julian would find a way to bring it to her. She said, “Aren’t we a perfect match?” I nodded. “Yes.” Bella hummed triumphantly. Until once, I came out of the hospital after visiting Grandma and ran into them. Seeing me, Julian instinctively asked, “Visiting your grandma? Is she better?” Bella’s face changed instantly. “You know quite a lot about her.” Julian didn’t catch the tone. “Of course. I have to thoroughly investigate anyone I send to your side.” But that night, Bella coldly demanded to see my chat history with Julian. There was nothing there. Just money transfers and his instructions about Bella. After reading it, she handed the phone back. Time passed slowly. Finally, she spoke. “Nina, delete Julian’s WeChat.” “I’ll explain it to him.” I was silent for a moment, then deleted Julian right in front of her. She looked at me. “That’s right. You two are from different worlds anyway.” Yes. If not for Bella, Julian would never have known my name in this lifetime.

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Mike Betts. The boy whose life I once shattered. He returned the favor, burning my world to the ground. He drove my parents to their graves and left me with nothing, forcing me to claw through garbage and fight dogs for their leftovers. Everyone said he’d finally gotten his revenge. But the night I threw myself into the ocean, Mike—who couldn’t swim a stroke—dove in after me. He lost an arm to a shark just to keep me alive. Then he spent billions on a team of specialists, all to erase my past and make me his wife. And it worked. Loving him became my entire world. But on our tenth anniversary, I saw him slip into the live-in nurse’s room at midnight. I heard her breathless cries, her voice melting into the memory of the woman who had always been his one true love. Through the wall, I heard Mike’s ragged whisper, laced with tenderness. “I’m only doing this to make her pain sharper when she finally remembers. You know you’ve always been the real light in my life, Tessa.” I popped the amnesia pill I’d been hiding in my palm. Mike didn’t know. I’d never forgotten a thing. But from now on, I would forget everything. Including him. 1 I waited for five hours before Mike came back to our room. The damp air clinging to him was thick with the scent of Tessa’s floral body wash, a cloying, humid smell. He practically jumped out of his skin when he saw I was still awake. A coldness seeped into my bones, but I forced a smile. “Why the big reaction? Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” His expression flickered through a series of emotions, his eyes darting away, unable to meet mine. “A client was being difficult. We drank too much. I just took a quick shower in the guest lounge.” The excuse was so clumsy it was almost funny. His reputation as ‘The Reaper’ in the corporate world wasn’t for show. What fool would dare force him into a late-night drinking session? I didn’t bother calling his bluff. Instead, I slowly pushed up the silk sleeve of my robe. A hideous, angry burn covered a large patch of my forearm. “Tessa did this,” I said, my voice flat. “I want her gone.” Mike’s gaze fell on the wound. His brow furrowed for a second, then smoothed out. “It’s just a small burn. I’ll have the doctor look at it tomorrow.” “She’s just a kid, fresh out of school, a bit clumsy,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. “You need to be more understanding. I’ll have her apologize, and I’ll make sure she covers the medical bills.” I almost laughed. Years ago, his own mother had called me a vixen, and he’d banished her back to their provincial hometown on the spot, not even letting her pack a suitcase. For all the years of our marriage, he’d replaced the entire household staff if I so much as shed a few more hairs than usual. He’d once told me, his voice raw with emotion, “Evelyn, you have no one but me now. I won’t let anyone, or anything, hurt you.” But now, this piece of ravaged flesh on my wrist was, in his words, “just a small burn.” Playing the part of the dutiful wife, I pulled my sleeve back down, hiding the ugly mark. “I know. I won’t hold it against a kid.” A kid who was the same age as me. I pressed my fingers to my temples and drew in a sharp breath. “My head hurts.” A side effect of the memory-wiping drugs. This time, though, the pain was real. “Hurting again?” His voice was heavy with fatigue. “It’s been years, you should be over this by now. Evelyn, stop using your old ailments as an excuse. You’re running the staff ragged.” He paused, his tone growing colder. “And don’t wear me out, either. I have an international conference call early tomorrow. I’m exhausted.” A dead silence fell over the room. The stabbing pain migrated from my head to my heart. “Okay,” I whispered. My fingers brushed against the cool metal on my left hand. Without any pressure, the wedding band I’d worn for years simply slid off. It felt like a thousand needles were piercing my brain all at once, the pain so intense that my vision swam with black spots. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, willing the tears not to fall. The memory of Mike, his eyes red-rimmed as he placed this ring on my finger, shattered frame by frame, flaking away until it was nothing but a blur. The next morning at breakfast, Mike couldn’t find me. He tore through the mansion in a panic, even calling in a private security team to search the grounds. They finally found me in the wine cellar. Coiled beside me was a highly venomous viper. The snake’s head lunged forward. “Don’t move!” Without a second thought, Mike threw himself over me, shielding me with his body. The fangs sank into his neck. His face turned a ghastly shade of blue-black almost instantly. He was rushed into the ER. For twenty-four hours, they pumped him full of new blood, barely pulling him back from the brink. The doctor, his face grim, tore into Mike’s assistant. “Why were you ten minutes late? He was this close to dying!” Every pair of eyes in the room turned on me like daggers. It was my fault. On the way to the hospital, I’d insisted we go back for my teddy bear, wasting precious time. Mike’s assistant of ten years finally snapped, his voice shaking with rage. “A stupid bear is more important than Mr. Betts’s life? After everything he’s done for you, you don’t even care if he lives or dies!” Mike’s expression hardened instantly. “You’re fired. See HR on your way out.” Silence returned to the room. Only then did he turn to me, forcing a reassuring smile onto his pale face. “Don’t listen to him. If it makes you happy, I’d give you my life, not just some teddy bear. I wouldn’t even blink.” I hugged the faded, well-worn bear and gave him a goofy smile. It was strange. Mike wasn’t on any medication, so why was his memory so bad? This wasn’t just some teddy bear. It was the one he’d given me back in high school. It had cost five hundred dollars. A sum that had taken him five months of scrubbing toilets to save up. For me, back then, that wasn’t even enough to cover the cost of the gift wrap. So, in front of the entire class, I’d thrown the bear in the trash. Then I’d pulled out ten thousand dollars in cash and thrown it in his face. “Here. Go get a taste of the real world, and stop trying to disgust me with your trash.” My gaze drifted to his remaining hand. Years of a pampered life had made it smooth and soft. A far cry from the hands of that boy, raw and peeling from corrosive cleaning agents, swollen with chilblains. Mike’s hands were never meant to look like that. Even the woman I was now could see that. The door to the hospital room banged open. Tessa burst in, throwing herself at Mike’s bedside, wailing. The force of her entry sent me stumbling to the floor. The burn on my arm, which she’d inflicted days earlier, split open. Blood soaked through my sleeve. Mike’s eyes, filled with concern, were only for Tessa. It wasn’t until a nurse came in for rounds that he seemed to remember I was even in the room. He looked at me, a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes. “Tessa’s just… overly empathetic. Don’t read too much into it.” Then, as if suddenly remembering my headache, he told the doctor to take me for a scan. But through it all, he never once looked directly at me. He never saw the crimson stain spreading across my sleeve. The doctor stepped away to grab something, leaving me alone in the hallway. Suddenly, a violent force yanked me backward. Tessa had me on the ground, snatching the teddy bear from my arms and shoving it hard against my face. Her voice was a venomous hiss. “You bitch! Now you’ll know what it feels like to suffocate!” Panic seized me. Cotton filled my nose and mouth, and the world dissolved into a frantic, suffocating blackness. I struggled, my subconscious screaming Mike’s name. My nails scraped bloody trails on the linoleum floor. The hospital room was just a few feet away, but no one came. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I heard Mike’s voice, calm and distant. I thought I was saved. But he just watched, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to the doctor who had followed him out. “Dr. Lee, if you would. Process this memory for Evelyn. Just like all the other times.” Tessa’s shrill voice exploded in my head. “You would’ve learned your lesson by now if Mike didn’t wipe your memory every single time!” So this wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t the first time Mike had let Tessa hurt me. A torrent of shattered memories crashed into me, each one a shard of glass in my mind. On our wedding day, Tessa moved into our marital home. Time and again, under the guise of getting revenge for Mike, she’d thrown scalding coffee on me, pushed me down the stairs. She’d even pinned him to the sofa right in front of me. He’d struggled, pushed her away. Until that one night, when he finally gave in. He’d stood there, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes bloodshot as they met mine. His voice was a raw rasp. “Evelyn, there’s too much baggage between us.” He was right. The humiliation of our youth, the ruin of my family, the arm he’d lost for me. It was a sea of blood and vengeance that we could never cross. I was dragged onto the treatment chair, electrodes clinging to my scalp. Mike walked over, his face a mask of complicated emotions. Seeing the tear tracks on my cheeks, he leaned down and kissed me. “Sleep now, Evelyn. When you wake up, everything will be new again.” As he reached for the switch, the doctor’s hesitant voice cut through the air. “Mr. Betts, the memory wipes have become too frequent. It could cause permanent damage to Mrs. Betts’s brain.” Mike paused, his voice laced with a strange helplessness. “But I can’t let her hate me.” Zzzt. A raw jolt of electricity tore through my brain, scrambling the ugly, painful past into meaningless static. My fingers went limp. The teddy bear I’d been clutching so tightly rolled off the bed and into the trash can beside it. Just like that day in high school. Only this time, no one was coming to fish it out. I slept for a long, long time. When I opened my eyes, I saw a handsome, vaguely familiar face looking down at me. I frowned, yanking my hand from his tight grip. “Who are you?” The man’s body went rigid, and a wave of pure panic flooded his eyes. “Evelyn, it’s me, Mike. Your husband.” He grabbed my hand again, his grip so tight it felt like he might shatter the bones. “We’ve been married for three years. You love me, remember? You told me I was your entire life.” When I didn’t respond, he started rambling, repeating how much I loved him over and over. I rubbed my throbbing temples. I seemed to remember the facts he was stating, but the feeling—the love—was gone, as if it had been surgically carved out of me. I found myself soothing him out of habit. “I’m sorry, my head is killing me.” Mike’s expression froze, looking deeply unnatural. He glanced away, his eyes landing on the teddy bear in the trash can. A deep frown creased his forehead, and he immediately called for a nurse. “What is this piece of junk? Get it out of here, now!” I watched the bear, its fur stained with dried, dark red blood, and subconsciously touched a small cut on my own lip. Mike’s body tensed. “Did you have a nightmare?” he blurted out, then quickly added, “Dreams aren’t real, Evelyn. Don’t believe any of it.” His attempt to cover his tracks was clumsy and laughable, but I couldn’t even summon the energy to question it. I just watched them take the bear away. “A ruined old bear,” I said calmly. “It was time to throw it out.” Just like our love. Mike must have sensed something was wrong. Though doctors had ordered him on strict bed rest, he started clinging to me, staying by my side nearly twenty-four hours a day. Except, of course, at night. I always woke up when he slipped out of bed to go to Tessa. Sometimes, they would even come back to our bedroom, making love by the side of the bed where I lay. “Mike, when are you going to let Evelyn get her memories back?” Tessa’s voice, choked with tears, was startlingly clear in the spaces between their passion. “You’ve sacrificed ten years of marriage for your revenge, and I’ve waited ten years for you. It’s enough. It’s really enough.” “Soon,” Mike would always say. Lost in his own world, he never saw the venomous hatred in Tessa’s eyes when she looked at me. She started secretly taking my medication. She didn’t know that Mike, terrified I might discover their affair, was already adding even more drugs to my meals every day. My memory began to fray, huge blank patches appearing in my days. I’d often sit by the window for hours, staring at nothing. Mike seemed pleased with this. He saw it as me being less clingy and seemed relieved. How ironic. After all the effort he’d put into turning me into a broken woman whose world revolved only around him, he was now tired of the burden. I said nothing. I just went on with the slow, quiet process of unloving him. Until the night it all exploded. During dinner, the front doors of the mansion were thrown open. Tessa, her hair a mess, burst in and dropped to her knees in front of me. “My mother has a heart condition! Come after me if you want, but leave my family out of this!” she shrieked, her voice thick with sobs, as if I’d committed some unforgivable crime. Outside, a sea of flashing lights pulsed against the windows. Reporters had surrounded the house. “Mr. Betts, do you have any comment on your wife’s online post, in which she accuses you and Ms. Vance of having an affair?” “Mr. Betts, was your decade-long devotion all a lie?” For ten years, the story of Mike Betts’s undying love for me was the fairy tale of our social circle. Now, the fairy tale was shattered, and with a third party involved, all the blame was aimed squarely at Tessa. The reporters’ microphones were practically in her face, their questions sharp and cruel. Mike’s face darkened, his eyes a brewing storm as he looked at me. But in the end, he didn’t touch me. He just pulled Tessa to her feet and told her he would handle it. He turned away, calling his assistant, telling them to arrange for Tessa and her entire family to be sent abroad. Tessa’s eyes went cold. She furiously tapped on her phone. Less than a minute later, Mike’s phone rang. Tessa’s parents, distraught from the news, had been in a fatal car accident. Tessa crawled toward me, her hands clawing at the leg of my pants. “I was wrong, I was so wrong…” she howled, her words a jumbled mess, yet she skillfully directed all the blame onto me. “You warned me in high school… not to take what was yours… I should have learned my lesson when I got expelled… Now my parents are dead… I’ve ruined my family…” Mike’s eyes turned blood-red. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so fierce I thought the bones would snap. “How could you be so vicious?!” Tessa wailed, banging her head on the floor before me. “I’m begging you, leave my family alone! I don’t want anything anymore…”

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