Category: English

Because I was born with a “blessed fate,” Kevin Rowley’s mother paid me to be a companion for her son. Publicly, I was his adopted sister. Privately, I was his cherished, secret girlfriend. The diamond ring hidden in his drawer made me believe he was going to propose. Then I overheard him joking with his friends: “It’s been five years. The fate you stole for Abby is stable now. Isn’t it time you compensated your little girlfriend by marrying her?” “Who would marry a cursed-luck plaything?” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll get her heart broken and leave?” Kevin’s voice was laced with contempt. “She’ll be on death’s door if she leaves me. Unless she can find a man with a stronger fate than mine, she’s stuck with me for life.” So that was it. He cherished me not out of love, but to steal my life force for his one true love. He wanted me to be his personal battery, his plaything for life. I stumbled home in a daze, pulled out the original agreement, and laid my cards on the table with his mother. “I won’t be renewing the contract. Our arrangement is over.” 1 Mrs. Rowley was stunned. “Aria, you know what happens. Every time you’re away from Kevin for more than three days, your luck turns. Minor incidents end in blood, major ones in the hospital. Why can’t you just stay with us and be my daughter? We don’t need a contract anymore. Why do you have to go?” Just then, Kevin strode in, snatching the papers from her hand. His brow furrowed. “Who said you had to leave just because the contract is up? It’s not like the Rowleys can’t afford to feed you.” “I want to go back to the mountains,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ve been away for so long. It’s time I went back to see my master.” Kevin’s face darkened with disapproval. “What’s there to see in that backwater? You’ve been gone for years, and has your so-called master ever once contacted you? Every time you were sick, who was the one taking care of you?” Perhaps my gaze was sharper than usual today, because he met my eyes for a second and fell silent. He knew exactly why my luck always turned. As for why my master had become unreachable, that was a mystery to me, too. A deep-seated instinct told me his disappearance was connected to my stolen fate. After dismissing his mother with a few quick words, Kevin ignored my protests, swept me into his arms, and carried me into his bedroom. The moment the door closed, he pinned me against a cabinet, his mouth crashing down on mine. “Aria, what is it? Am I not good enough to you? Is my mother not good to you? You’d rather throw away the life of a princess to go back to that shithole and see some old man?” He was as domineering as ever, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste filled my mouth, just as the scent of another woman—Abby’s perfume—filled my nostrils. My body had no resistance to Kevin, but it had even less to Abby. If Kevin was a sun that drew me in, Abby was a fatal-force magnet. I’d always known she was special to him, but whenever I saw her, I felt an inexplicable joy, a happiness that far surpassed what I felt for Kevin. I’d even started to question my own sexuality. Now I knew the truth. I was drawn to her because she held a piece of me. She had stolen my fate. “Aria, the Rowley estate is your home,” he murmured, his voice softening. “It doesn’t matter if you’re an orphan or a jinx. My mother and I will always treat you like family. Why would you risk everything to go back and see someone who doesn’t even care about you?” “If you really want to go, I’ll take you when I’m less busy.” Every word was a carefully crafted trap, designed to sound like he cared. But knowing the truth, I saw the cracks in every single one. I fought against my body’s instinct and pushed him away. “Fine.” He didn’t love me. Even if I stayed, I would just waste away and die young. It was only a matter of when. My compliance seemed to ignite something in him. A dark desire flickered in his eyes. “Aria, this is what I love about you. So obedient. Like a little rabbit, makes me want to devour you whole…” He reached for my clothes. I clutched the collar of my shirt and shoved him back, stopping his advance. If my fate was a flame, then I was the lamp. Abby had stolen the flame, but until it fully merged with her, she couldn’t risk “breaking a taboo”—or all her efforts would be for nothing. That was why Kevin couldn’t touch her. And his insatiable desire for me? It was because I was the lamp. He couldn’t have the flame, so he took out all his frustrations on me. My rejection stunned him. Usually, all he had to do was stand there, and my body’s instinct would do the rest. Without my fate, I needed his proximity to feel warm, to feel that indescribable rush of happiness. He gripped my chin, a smirk playing on his lips. “Playing hard to get? Trying something new today, are we? I like it…” I watched with cold eyes as he leaned in to kiss me again. “This is the master bedroom,” I reminded him, my voice flat. The desire vanished from his face. For five years, I had been the woman he tangled with every night, but I had never been allowed to sleep in his bed. I’d never even been near it. He was afraid my bad luck would taint the room, and by extension, the Rowley family’s fortune. As Kevin hastily pulled me out of the room, his mother was coming down the stairs. “Kevin, where are you dragging your sister off to in such a hurry?” He didn’t miss a beat. “We have something important to discuss.” Mrs. Rowley looked at us suspiciously. “You two are always so secretive. You’re not up to something you shouldn’t be, are you?” 2 Kevin’s grip on my hand tightened. He pushed me into my own room before rushing to heat a glass of milk for his mother. “Mom, just drink this and go to bed.” Mrs. Rowley loved when he did this for her. It always helped her sleep through the night. “I’d like some too, Mom…” I started to say. Kevin shot me a venomous look. I’d always suspected there was something wrong with the milk, but I couldn’t believe Kevin would drug his own mother. It wasn’t until earlier today, when I found the sleeping pills hidden in his room, that I knew for sure. I decided to let it go. This devoted son drugged his mother every time he wanted to spend a night with me. What was one more time? Once I was gone, he’d stop. If I exposed him, it would only ruin their relationship, and I’d gain nothing. Half an hour later, Kevin tried to sneak into my room, only to find the door locked. He was furious. He actually called a locksmith to pry the door open. After sending the man away, he stormed over to me, his voice dripping with irritation. “It’s not your period, so don’t play the virtuous maiden with me. Aren’t you usually like a starving wolf? It’s only because I’m patient that I put up with you. Don’t push it.” He pulled a scandalously sheer piece of lingerie from a hidden compartment in my closet and tossed it at me. “Change into this. Stop wasting my time.” When I didn’t move, he became rough. Looking into his eyes—eyes that could show deep affection even to a dog—I was struck again by the cold, hard reality: he had never, ever truly cared for me. Who would fall in love with a tool to warm their bed? He yanked at my shirt, and the fabric tore, exposing my chest to the cool air. I fought down the overwhelming urge to press myself against him. For the first time, I didn’t throw myself into his arms. “I’m tired. Some other time.” My repeated rejections had pushed him over the edge. He grabbed my wrists, about to restrain me, when his phone rang urgently. Hearing the panicked sobs on the other end, Kevin rushed out to get Abby. Terrified that I would lose control and follow them like a lost puppy, I slammed the door shut. But Kevin kicked it back open. “Abby has a fever. Get over here and take care of her.” I looked at her chapped lips and flushed face. “You should take her to a hospital,” I said coldly. Abby came and sat next to me, taking my hand and pouting. “Aria, I don’t want to go to the hospital. I just want to be close to you. I don’t know why, but I feel warmer when you’re near.” She rested her head on my shoulder. Every cell in my body screamed with a traitorous joy at her touch, but I took a deep breath and shoved her away. “If you’re cold, have Kevin warm you up.” The thought of her stealing my life force while I’d been dancing around them like a fool sent a chill through me. Abby’s body began to tremble uncontrollably, her face a mask of pathetic misery. “Aria, why are you being so mean today? Kevin, I feel so sick…” She clutched her chest, her breathing shallow. Kevin immediately rushed to her side, gathering her into his arms. But I didn’t miss the strange, knowing look Abby shot me over his shoulder. A deep sense of unease settled in my stomach. 3 After settling Abby in his own room, Kevin came back and ordered me, “You’re sleeping with Abby tonight. And don’t forget, obeying orders is your job.” He was right. That was my job. But the employment contract had expired two years ago. When I first left my master in the mountains, I was naive and worldly. I was scammed out of all my money and ended up at a temple, desperate for food. That’s where I met Mrs. Rowley. The temple’s abbot told her I had a blessed fate and that forming a connection with me would greatly benefit her son. A devout believer, Mrs. Rowley immediately offered me a contract: “One million dollars for three years. Be my goddaughter.” My master always said that every meeting was fated. Starving and desperate, I couldn’t refuse. When I first arrived, Kevin despised me. But on my birthday, after he learned my birth chart, he suddenly warmed up to me. After accompanying him on a trip abroad to meet Abby, I found myself completely infatuated with him. Every glance made my heart pound. I wanted to be near him constantly. When I finally “won him over,” I was ecstatic. Now, I realized it was all a setup. After that trip, my luck began to turn. I became prone to illness and accidents. Kevin found a renowned monk to help me, but nothing worked. The monk’s only advice was to stay by Kevin’s side for my own safety. “Aria Sterling! What are you still standing there for? Get over there, now!” The more frantic he was, the more I suspected tonight was not going to be simple. He tried the same trick again, bringing me a glass of warm milk. If I drank it, I’d be out cold, just like his mother. “Didn’t you say you wanted some? And you’re always complaining about wanting to sleep in my room. Here’s your chance.” I picked up the glass and, when he wasn’t looking, poured most of it into the bedding. I hoped the few sips I’d have to take wouldn’t put me under too deeply. But as I raised the glass, I caught a familiar scent. The milk was just a distraction. This was the same fragrance that had knocked me out that night abroad. I bit my tongue hard, mentally chanting the complex passages my master had taught me to fight off the drowsiness. As I pretended to pass out, Kevin caught me and carried me to his bed. “Kevin, are you sure this will work?” Abby’s voice was a nervous whisper. “Her fate is strong. Stealing it completely will cure you for good.” “But I’m worried about the backlash…” “Don’t be. She loves me. As long as she gives it willingly, I won’t be harmed. The backlash will fall on her.” Lying in the bed I had once dreamed of, my heart turned to ice. My consciousness was fading, but the rage in my chest burned hot and fierce. When I woke up, Abby was completely revitalized, her cheeks rosy with health. I, on the other hand, felt drained and sick. It took all my strength just to sit up. “Aria, you’re awake! I told you, if I’m with you, I don’t even need medicine to get better.” A person who should have been dead long ago had stolen my life, and last night, she had used my body to solidify her hold on it. It was no different from borrowing my very life. In that moment, I hated myself for being so blind, for not learning a single one of my master’s skills. I had been a fool for years, completely unaware. I forced a smile, and my cracked lips immediately started to bleed. There was no point in arguing. All I wanted was to get out of this viper’s nest. But Kevin steadied me, his face a mask of concern. “Aria, you look terrible. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Too weak to struggle, I let him. After a series of tests, the doctor’s face was grim. “Her body’s systems are aging rapidly. We need to admit her for further observation.” I spent the entire day at the hospital, feeling my life force slowly slipping away. Kevin only remembered I existed after confirming that Abby was perfectly healthy. He came to my room, full of apologies, asking how I was feeling, but there wasn’t a trace of genuine worry in his eyes. Suddenly, Abby pointed at his arm and gasped. “Kevin, what is that? It wasn’t there this morning…” 4 Kevin tried to rub off the dark spot on his arm, but the skin underneath looked like it was about to peel away. I looked away, then down at the identical spots appearing on my own skin, and gave a bitter smile. Kevin’s hand trembled as he glared at me. “Aria Sterling, did you cheat on me? Did you get some disease and give it to me?” He could blame me for anything, couldn’t he? Didn’t he understand this was karma? The backlash wouldn’t kill him, but it would certainly make his life a living hell. The moment I learned the truth, I had decisively cut off all the love I had for him. He stared at the matching spots on my arm, his expression turning thunderous. As if remembering something, he grabbed me and dragged me out of the hospital, not even sparing a glance for Abby. The moment we were in the car, he pushed me down against the seat, his kisses landing sloppily on my neck. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. He looked at me, his face a picture of wounded betrayal. “Aria, you don’t love me anymore? I know I shouldn’t have said that, but… you used to love being close to me, didn’t you?” So that’s what this was about. He was testing me. Trying to see if I still loved him. And what if I did? He didn’t understand. The karma he deserved had already arrived. I shook my tingling hand and pointed out the window.

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The moment the car crash took my parents, the clock stopped. I was eighteen. The world didn’t just end; it became a tidal wave of creditors and debt notices. I begged, tear-streaked and desperate, but the friends and “family” who had once filled our house vanished like smoke. Then, out of the wreckage, Audrey Sinclair appeared. She was my father’s former student, now the heiress to the Sinclair Empire. Under the cold, regal guise of the future Mrs. Maxwell, she paid off the last of the debt and silenced the collectors. But for the next ten years, we remained nothing more than engaged. A decade of standing on the sidelines, trapped in a bizarre holding pattern because I hadn’t yet “passed the Sinclair trials.” On my ninety-ninth failure—my body bruised and aching, a custom funfetti cake tucked under my arm—I accidentally overheard her talking to a friend. “Seriously, Audrey, how many times has Ethan failed the ‘trials’? I’ve lost count.” “He’s pathetic, Maya. There are no ‘Sinclair trials.’ It was a convenient fiction to stall for time and keep Leo Harrington within reach. How has he not figured that out?” Audrey’s voice was ice. “Ninety-nine, and counting. Pity isn’t in my vocabulary.” “But you’ve been engaged for ten years. The trials have to end sometime. What happens when he finds out? I heard Leo is flying back tonight.” “Leo isn’t the penniless grad student he was ten years ago, he’s a Wall Street golden boy. Our companies are already merging. The Sinclair heir’s spot was always meant for The Golden Standard, Maya. For Leo. I did what I had to do to hold the line until he was worthy.” The designer cake bag crumpled in my fist. A decade. A farce. My entire salvation, the lifeline I had clung to, was just a waiting room for her real love. The trials? A punchline. Tears fell, hot and bitter. My savior was nothing more than a magnificent liar, a director who’d cast me as the star of her decade-long distraction. I wasn’t playing this role anymore. 1 “But—” Maya’s voice was cut off. “Even if I hadn’t gotten engaged to Ethan, the family would never have let me be with Leo back then. My only option was to wait until he was the kind of man the Sinclairs would accept. As for Ethan—ten years of the Sinclair name was my biggest return to him.” Maya looked sick. “You gave him access to so many resources, and he turned them all down. Then he specifically demanded Ethan be the one to broker the final deal. He’s deliberately trying to hurt him, Audrey.” “If Ethan finds out, you’ll lose him completely. He might even hate you, and you know he has nobody else.” Audrey stood up, staring out the window. “I know all of it. But I just want to be with the man I love. Is that so wrong? The next trial will be impossible. He’ll walk away. It ends there. Don’t bring this up again.” “Making it impossible doesn’t mean the past disappears. Ethan fought through ninety-nine failures to marry you. He won’t just hand you over to Leo. He’s human, Audrey. He’ll break.” “Enough. I never belonged to him, so there’s nothing to ‘hand over.’ After Leo and I marry, I’ll send Ethan overseas for his doctorate. He always wanted to follow his father’s work. I’ll fund whatever he needs.” “You’re really going to see this through, aren’t you? Ethan has been the one by your side for a decade. How do you know Leo is still The Golden Standard you remember?” Maya sighed. “Fine. I won’t say anything else. Do what you want.” The silence that followed was heavy. The funfetti cake, which I had spent two hours trying to keep perfect, now lay on the ground, a colorful smear on the Persian rug. It was the perfect metaphor for my love for Audrey. Crushed, unrecognizable, a sticky, bitter mess. Ten years ago, the bailiffs were at the door, and my life had imploded. I was just a terrified kid who only knew how to study. Audrey had talked me down from the roof. She went from my father’s student to my fiancée. When the Sinclairs pushed back, she spun the story of my father’s life-saving kindness to her, securing her own father’s reluctant consent. I thought our bond was a sacred debt of gratitude. But then she told me I would be the best son-in-law, put me through business school, and let me shadow the Sinclair corporate affairs. She even kissed me sometimes, a quick, intoxicating brush of lips that felt like a reward. The suspicion about the trials had always been there, but the memory of those kisses, that brief taste of us, made me swallow it all down and try again. It had all been a lie. I scrubbed the tears from my face, straightening up and forcing myself to walk away. With every step, a piece of my affection for Audrey dissolved. Before I’d made it far, I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Ethan? What are you doing out here?” I turned and faced her, forcing a hollow smile. I pointed to the pitiful mess on the ground. “I was bringing the cake. Tripped right by the door, and it slipped. Heading back out to get a new one now.” The tension instantly left her face. She spotted the scrapes and cuts on my arms. Her eyes softened with practiced concern. “You went to another trial? I told you it doesn’t matter if you pass, I’ve already chosen you. You don’t need to—” The genuine concern I saw on her face the previous ninety-eight times now felt revolting. One second she was sighing over her long-lost love, the next she was pouring out this saccharine affection for me. You’re a phenomenal actress, Audrey. I watched her cold performance, avoiding her hand as she reached for my wound. I knew I couldn’t break the illusion yet. “I’m fine. Just clumsy. Sorry, I failed this one, too.” She was a professional. Despite my obvious coldness, she insisted on dragging me back to the Sinclair manor. She frantically searched for the first aid kit, treating my wounds as if I were a piece of priceless crystal. “Blow on it. The pain goes away.” A month ago, that sweet, maternal gesture would have melted me. Now, it made my stomach churn. This was the gilded cage she’d used to keep me compliant. She didn’t notice my inner chill. She kissed my palm—the familiar, sickening comfort of it—and then she said it. The line I’d waited a decade for. “Ethan, let’s get married.” My hand, which I was about to pull away, froze. She gripped it, looking straight into my eyes. “We’ve been engaged for ten years. People are gossiping that I’m unreliable, that I’ve moved on. We’ll have a spectacular wedding. The kind that shuts up every single person who has something to say.” I watched the self-serving fantasy play out in her eyes. “But I haven’t passed the Sinclair trials? Your father wouldn’t—” She cut me off with a kiss. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you pass the final one. I promise.” It was the ninety-ninth lie. If you don’t love me, why do you care what happens to me? “Ethan? You don’t want to marry me?” Her question broke my internal loop. To hide my true expression, I pulled her into a tight hug. But the warmth of my embrace was all a performance, and my eyes were utterly cold. She mistook it for passion and launched into a breathless description of the wedding planner. The distraction was a phone call. She glanced at the screen, and her lips curved into a smile she couldn’t hide. “Ethan, work emergency. I have to go now. You stay here and rest.” She rushed off, the joy in her expression undeniable. The identity of the caller was painfully obvious. I watched her retreating back, silently reciting my eulogy for our relationship. Audrey, you saved my life. I gave you ten years of my life as a repayment. The debt is settled. After she left, the immense space of the house felt desolate. I went straight to her private study, intending to draft a separation agreement. We didn’t have a marriage license, but ten years of entwined life meant we had ten years of separation to untangle. The moment I logged into her computer, I froze. Her messaging app was open. The thread was with Leo Harrington. His contact name was an emoji of a black knight. ‘Can’t miss the Princess’s birthday. Your Knight is flying in fast!’ Audrey’s reply: ‘Waiting for the Knight for the tenth time. ’ I scrolled, numbly, frantically, until the mouse slipped from my hand and I sagged onto the floor. I had known where she was going, but the sight of the evidence was a physical tearing in my chest. This was the truth of her “not-love.” She hated texting, she said. Too impersonal. We were always calls. Always voice. Always the distance. But here? Ten years only held 3,650 days. Their messages numbered in the tens of thousands. Daily. Intimate. Love was in the volume. Love was in the banality of their daily life. The clock struck midnight. A ding from the laptop. Leo’s Instagram post. ‘Happy Birthday, My Princess. Ten years of holding the line. Get ready for the most important day of our lives, three days from now.’ The photo: Two hands, clasped. His left index finger. The small, distinct crimson mole I’d seen a hundred times on campus. I wasn’t going to bless them. I picked up my phone and sent a text to a number I hadn’t dialed in a decade. ‘Are you still waiting? Do this one thing for me. Then I fulfill my promise.’ The reply was instantaneous: ‘Yes.’

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1 The night before my sister was set to marry into the prestigious Ashton family, she finally spoke her mind. “Lindsay,” she began, her voice soft as ever, “I don’t think you should be my maid of honor tomorrow.” I was in the middle of fastening a bracelet I’d strung myself onto her wrist, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. Her voice was a familiar, fragile whisper. “I know you’re my only sister, but… the vitiligo on your face…” She let the words hang in the air. “People will talk. I don’t want Liam to think I’m like a flawed gem.” She finally dropped the act. “Frankly, having you stand next to me is embarrassing.” My hands froze. I never imagined she could think of me that way. Our mother draped a cashmere shawl over her shoulders, her silence a clear endorsement of Rachel’s words. “You’ve been good to me, Lindsay. You’ve always given me everything since we were kids,” Rachel continued, as if that made it better. “But tomorrow is the most important day of my life.” “Liam’s family is so prominent. I can’t have his friends mocking him… saying my family isn’t presentable.” … My gaze fell to the bracelet in my hand, a string of one hundred and eight lustrous pearls. I had chosen, polished, and threaded each one myself. It was supposed to be a part of her dowry, a gift from my heart. Now, it seemed, it was just another imperfection. Slowly, I unclasped the bracelet from her wrist and placed it back into its velvet box. “Alright,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. Rachel let out a visible sigh of relief. “Oh, Lindsay, you’re the best. I knew you’d understand.” Mom stroked Rachel’s long, silky hair, her eyes brimming with pride. “That’s enough standing around. Go get some rest. You need to be the most beautiful bride tomorrow.” I quietly gathered the accessories I had prepared for the bridal party, packing each piece away. I should have been used to it by now. It all started when I was thirteen. That summer, after a severe illness, a coin-sized white patch appeared on my left cheek. At first, my parents were frantic, taking me to every specialist they could find. But six months later, my eleven-year-old sister, Rachel, noticed a similar patch on her back while bathing. The atmosphere in our home turned heavy overnight. The doctors called it an autoimmune disorder. The treatment would be long, expensive, and offered no guarantee of a cure. I was thirsty late one night and overheard my parents arguing in their room. “Treat them both?” my father’s voice was strained. “The business is barely off the ground. Where are we going to find that kind of money?” My mother’s reply was a low, chilling whisper. “Then we choose one.” “Rachel is still so young. Her life is just beginning.” “Besides,” she added, “hers is on her back. It’s hidden. The chances of a full recovery are much higher.” “And Lindsay?” my father asked. “Lindsay… she’s the older sister. She’s sensible. She should let her sister have this.” Her voice dropped even lower. “And honestly, hers is on her face. The damage is done. Why throw good money after bad?” The glass of water slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. I didn’t cry. I just cleaned up the shards, went back to my room, and pulled the covers over my head. From that day on, I was the sensible older sister. Every resource, every ounce of attention, was funneled toward Rachel. All I ever got was the same tired refrain: “You’re the older sister. You have to look out for Rachel.” As I was ignored, the patch on my face grew from the size of a coin to cover nearly half my cheek, like a permanent flaw carved into porcelain. Snapping back to the present, I put the last piece of jewelry away. “Mom, I’m heading out.” She finally glanced at me, a slight frown on her face. “Be here early tomorrow to help. Even if you’re not the maid of honor, there’s still a mountain of things to do.” “I know.” I walked out of my sister’s room. In the living room, my father was laughing with his future son-in-law, Liam Ashton. When Liam saw me, his smile faded slightly. He gave a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment. His eyes flickered to the patch on my face for less than half a second before darting away. We had grown up together, inseparable childhood friends. Before he left for college abroad, he’d held my hand and promised, “Lindsay, wait for me.” But when he returned, he found a me with a scarred face, and a brilliant, beautiful sister by my side. He was disappointed. And I never explained that the groundbreaking proposals at the company, the ones that made Rachel shine, had all originated on my desk. Because, as my mother always said, the older sister has to support the younger one. I stepped out into the night. The wind was cool against my skin. I looked up at the moon. It was bright, round, and perfectly whole. 2 I arrived the next day before dawn. Even stripped of my title, my duties were endless. From the final check of the floral arrangements to confirming the details of the banquet menu, to running through the guest reception protocol one last time, I was a spinning top wound tight, never stopping for a moment. My mother was pleased with my compliance. She pulled me into the dressing room, directing the makeup artist on Rachel’s final touches. “Our Rachel is a natural beauty. Look at that skin. A little makeup and she looks like an angel.” She turned to me, a tight smile on her lips. “Lindsay, you should have the artist put some concealer on you, too. There will be a lot of guests today. Don’t let it be too obvious.” The patch on my face was too large. No amount of concealer could hide it; it only made my skin tone look uneven and more jarring. I’d tried once and given up. “It’s fine, Mom. I have to be backstage. There’s no time.” I could feel the pity in the eyes of the makeup artist and the other bridesmaids. I pretended not to notice. When the ceremony began, I stood in the darkest corner of the ballroom, a walkie-talkie in my hand, ready for any emergency. Rachel, wearing the gown I had picked for her, walked down the aisle on our father’s arm, toward Liam waiting at the center of the stage. She was breathtaking, a true princess. When my father placed Rachel’s hand in Liam’s, his eyes were red. He choked back a sob. “Liam, I’m entrusting you with our family’s most precious treasure. You have to take care of her.” The hall erupted in applause. I felt like a complete outsider. Every detail of this wedding had consumed the last six months of my life. Even the down payment on the red sports car Rachel received as a wedding gift came from my savings. My parents had told me the family’s finances were tight after years of paying for Rachel’s treatments. They couldn’t look cheap in front of the Ashtons. You’re the older sister, they’d said. It’s your duty to help out. But in this moment, no one remembered me. The officiant’s voice boomed from the stage. “Our beautiful bride, Rachel, is not only stunning but also one of Mr. Ashton’s most capable executives! She has single-handedly spearheaded several of the company’s most critical projects. A true talent!” I looked down, a bitter taste in my mouth. Those projects, those sleepless nights… they had all become jewels in her crown. During the reception, they moved from table to table. When they reached Liam’s friends, one of them let out a low whistle. “Hey, Liam,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “your new sister-in-law is… something else.” His eyes landed squarely on my face. A hush fell over the room. Rachel’s face went pale, her hand tightening on Liam’s arm. My mother quickly jumped in, forcing a laugh. “Oh, she’s always been a tomboy, all work and no play. The workhorse of our family.” Liam raised his glass, his gaze sweeping over me with a cool indifference. “Don’t be an ass. This is Lindsay, my wife’s sister.” I picked up my own glass, drained it in one go, and offered a thin smile. “Enjoy yourselves. I’m going to check on the kitchen.” As I walked away, I heard the whispers behind me. “Such a shame. I heard Liam and the older sister were childhood sweethearts…” “Yeah, but who would marry that? It’s humiliating to even be seen with her.” “The younger one is gorgeous and capable. She and Liam are a perfect match.” I slipped into the empty backstage area, finally able to breathe. My phone screen lit up with an old photo of Liam and me from high school. In it, the patch on my face was still small enough to be covered by makeup, and I was smiling, fearless. Liam’s eyes in the picture were full of me. “Lindsay, you… you weren’t like this before.” That’s what he’d said when he came back, after seeing my face and meeting my “talented” sister. He was right. I wasn’t. The bright, defiant girl I used to be had been murdered long ago by my parents’ mantra: You’re the older sister, you have to give way. I deleted the photo, erasing a memory that had already rotted away. 3 Rachel and Liam spent two weeks honeymooning on a private island. For those two weeks, the office was blissfully quiet. I poured all my energy into my new project: the ‘Aura’ smart home system. The day Rachel returned, she walked straight into my office. “Ugh, the honeymoon was so exhausting,” she complained, though her tone was dripping with pride. “Liam insisted on dragging me everywhere.” I nodded. “You should get some rest.” “Rest? No time for that.” She sat down across from me and picked up my project proposal. “Liam says the Aura project is critical. It’s the company’s core strategy for the second half of the year. There can’t be any mistakes.” A cold dread washed over me. “And?” I asked. Rachel looked up, flashing an innocent smile. “And so, Liam has decided that I will be taking the lead.” “Lindsay, you have so much experience. You can be my second-in-command, help me steer the ship. Okay?” My fingers clenched into a fist, my nails digging into my palm. On what grounds? The words burned in my throat, but I couldn’t force them out. I looked at her, and her eyes held the same entitled glint as they did when she was ten, snatching the only imported doll I’d ever owned from my hands. Back then, my mother had said the same thing: Rachel wants it. You’re the older sister, just let her have it. “Is this a company decision, or Liam’s decision?” I asked numbly. “Is there a difference?” Rachel laughed, clutching the proposal to her chest. “Don’t worry, sis. When the project succeeds, I won’t forget your contribution. We’re family. What’s yours is mine. Why draw lines?” She swept out of the room, leaving me alone in the suffocating chill. That evening, I went home. My parents were on the couch watching TV. “Did you eat?” my mother asked without looking up. I cut straight to the point. “The company gave Rachel the lead on the Aura project.” My mother paused, then a wide smile spread across her face. “Really? That’s wonderful! Our Rachel is so capable. Such a huge responsibility right after getting married. Liam really knows how to pick them.” My father nodded in agreement. “Rachel has the drive, and with her big sister helping her out, the project is sure to be a success.” My heart sank into a black abyss. “I was the one who developed that project. From start to finish.” “I know,” my mother said, her tone infuriatingly matter-of-fact. “But you’re her sister. Isn’t it your job to support her? She’s the boss’s wife now. If she’s secure, your life at the company will be easier too. Why can’t you see the big picture?” “The big picture?” I laughed, a hollow sound. “Is my ‘big picture’ just handing over everything I’ve ever worked for to her?” “Lindsay!” my father’s voice was sharp, his face darkening. “Is that any way to speak to your mother? After all the sacrifices this family has made for your sister over the years, you can’t handle a little setback to help pave her way?” He stood up, his voice rising. “Has that disease on your face twisted your personality, too? Made you this bitter and jealous?” I stared at the two people I called my parents, and they felt like complete strangers. They couldn’t see my hard work, couldn’t see my pain. All they saw was my flaw, and Rachel’s perfection. I took a deep, shaky breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Fine. I get it.” I turned to leave. “Where are you going?” my mother called after me. “Work.” I didn’t look back. I couldn’t let them see the tears in my eyes. I stayed at the office all night. I compiled every core file, every piece of research for the project, and I bundled it all into an email to Rachel. At the very end, I wrote a single line: This is the last time I will ever step aside for you. 4 For the next month, I was Rachel’s subordinate. I watched as Liam’s eyes filled with admiration and love every time he looked at her. Occasionally, his gaze would pass over me, and the disappointment seemed to deepen. Then one day, my father called, his voice frantic. “Lindsay, get to the hospital, now! Your mother… she collapsed!” By the time I arrived, my mother was already in the emergency room. My father was pacing outside, his face ashen, while Rachel sobbed in Liam’s arms. A doctor emerged, his expression grim. “She’s in acute liver failure. She needs a transplant immediately.” “A transplant?” My father’s voice trembled. “But… a donor?” “We’ve registered her on the national network, but there’s no telling how long the wait will be,” the doctor explained. “The best option is a live donation from a relative. Her blood type is B-negative, RH-negative. It’s extremely rare. Are any of you a match?” We all looked at each other. Dad was Type A. Liam was Type O. Rachel and I were sent for blood tests. Every second in that waiting room felt like an eternity. Rachel clutched my hand, her palm icy and shaking. “Lindsay, I’m so scared…” I squeezed her hand back, patting it gently. An hour later, a nurse returned with the results. “Who is Lindsay?” “I am,” I said, standing up. “Your blood type is a perfect match with the patient’s. After a preliminary evaluation, you are a viable donor.” Every eye in the room fixed on me. Rachel’s hand slipped from mine as she let out a long, shuddering breath of relief. The nurse then turned to her, her tone clinical. “Miss Rachel, your blood type is B-positive. You are not a match.” Rachel froze. We all knew Mom had what they called ‘golden blood,’ the rarest type. We’d always assumed at least one of us had inherited it. No one ever imagined the lucky one would be me—the flawed, forgotten daughter. My mother was moved to the ICU. The surgery was scheduled for the next morning. I went in to see her beforehand. She was a frail figure in the hospital bed, hooked up to a web of tubes. When she saw me, her clouded eyes brightened, and she weakly reached out her hand. I walked over and took it. She opened her mouth, her voice a faint rasp. I leaned in close, my ear next to her lips. “Rachel, my sweet girl… I knew… I knew you would save me…” She called me by my sister’s name as she squeezed my hand. In that instant, I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. At death’s door, the only person in her heart was her perfect, flawless daughter. I wasn’t even worthy of being named. Slowly, deliberately, I pried her fingers from my hand. I looked at her, my face a blank mask. When I stepped out of the room, my father and Liam rushed toward me. “Lindsay, how is she?” Seeing the same desperate hope on their faces, I almost laughed. “The surgery can happen,” I said, my voice clear and cold. “But I have a condition.”

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I was born in a hospital toilet. My biological mother didn’t want me. She birthed me, flushed the toilet, and walked away without looking back. She thought I would be washed into the sewer and become a lump of rotting flesh. But I was lucky. My head got stuck in the opening. A nurse found me and pulled me out of the filth. The doctor said that although I survived, there might be sequelae in my brain, and the risk of cerebral palsy could not be ruled out. At that time, surveillance wasn’t perfect. After a week unclaimed, the hospital prepared to send me to an orphanage. But the moment the nurse handed me over, I, who had been quiet until then, cried my heart out. The nurse couldn’t bear it. She snatched me back. From then on, she became my mother. 1 Everyone said Sarah was a fool for adopting a child with brain damage, predicting endless hardship for her. But Mom would say, “What do you know? Holly is the best daughter.” She didn’t have maternity leave, so she had to bring me to work. To take care of me, she voluntarily applied for a transfer from the operating room to the general ward. Her salary was halved, and she had to work night shifts. The only benefit was that the neonatal ward had a supply of free formula. The nurses took turns getting some for me, and the head nurse turned a blind eye. But fate didn’t favor us. At six months, when normal babies can sit up, I couldn’t even roll over. Mom asked the pediatric specialist cautiously, “Holly is fine, right?” The specialist didn’t even look up as he ordered a brain CT scan. “Let’s do the scan first.” The radiologist frowned deeply upon seeing Mom. “Didn’t you tell him you work here? Why do a CT scan on such a small baby?” Mom bit her lip. She knew radiation could affect development, but the doctor had her cornered with one sentence. “If there is an abnormality in the brain, a day’s delay in diagnosis could lead to lifelong regret.” After the CT scan, the specialist studied it for a long time, adjusting his glasses. “The imaging results show no brain abnormalities.” Before Mom could sigh in relief, he continued, “But this is typical developmental delay.” “Without early intervention, it will affect her for life.” 2 Mom’s salary was barely $3,000 a month, and my rehabilitation fees alone were over $2,500. Even with rehab, the chance of me being like a normal child existed only in theory. Mom came out of the rehab center, her eyes red. Just then, I tilted my head in her arms and called out, “Ma… Mama…” Her eyes instantly lit up like morning stars. “I knew it!” “My Holly is the smartest!” She pressed her forehead against mine, secretly vowing, “I will cure you!” From that day on, Mom went to the rehab department after work to do odd jobs. She wanted two things: to reduce fees through labor and to learn the techniques secretly. The therapists didn’t understand why, but seeing she was a hospital employee, they turned a blind eye. But the Director of Rehabilitation, Dr. Zhao, was a principled woman. After kicking Mom out for the third time, Dr. Zhao warned her, “The hospital is for treating patients, not for pulling strings. If you come again, I’ll talk to your supervisor.” Mom slowly lowered her head, her hands clenched tight. The next day, she paid off all the arrears and didn’t enter the rehab room without permission again. During that time, she only ate two meals a day. “You spend all your money on her, what do you eat and use?” The nurses couldn’t stand it and shared their food with Mom. The head nurse quietly went to Dr. Zhao but was scolded back. Someone advised Mom, “Give up. She’s not your own flesh and blood. What if the rehab doesn’t work and she’s disabled? Are you going to support her for life?” Mom smiled. “Then I’ll support her for life.” The person didn’t persuade her anymore, only silently packing her child’s outgrown clothes for Mom. Neither of them noticed Dr. Zhao standing around the corner, listening to the entire conversation. 3 The next day, after rehab, Mom was about to leave with me. Dr. Zhao, passing by the door, suddenly stopped her. “We are short of a temporary logistics staff here. Not much work, paid, handle it after work. If you are willing…” “I am willing!” On the way back, Mom smiled. “Our Holly is a little lucky star. Even heaven is protecting you.” “My little baby will definitely get better.” From that day on, Mom went to the rehab room whenever she was free. Dr. Zhao, seeing this, deliberately lingered around her, teaching her hand by hand. Thanks to the rehab subsidy, our lives became much better. Mom finally didn’t have to rely on colleagues’ handouts to get enough to eat. In the rehab room, children cried inside, and parents cried outside. Only my mom was different; she could accompany me inside. Mom coaxed me, “Holly, let’s play a game here.” But the game wasn’t fun at all. It was painful and tiring, often leaving me sweating all over. I was young and didn’t know how to refuse. I just started trembling every time I saw the door of the rehab department. Whenever this happened, Mom’s eyes were bright, saying Holly wasn’t afraid, but her body trembled even more than mine. Finally, one day, Dr. Zhao told her, “You know everything for this stage. You can do it at home from now on.” Mom and I both breathed a sigh of relief. The corners of Dr. Zhao’s mouth turned up slightly. “I will regularly check the inpatient building.” Mom and I froze simultaneously. Dr. Zhao tucked her hair behind her ear, turned, and left, hiding her merit and fame. 4 Leaving the rehab environment, I wasn’t so resistant to “games.” At one year old, I stood up. Mom happily hugged and kissed me. At two years old, I learned my name—”Holly.” Mom picked me up and spun me around. “Everything will get better, it will get better.” But I saw Dr. Zhao behind her, looking at us with hidden worry. Three years old, kindergarten. Before going, Mom prepared small gifts for every teacher and greeted them. But I was advised to quit before I even finished a week. “She doesn’t understand instructions at all. Not only is her motor development lagging, but she also likes to hit people!” “How do you teach her at home? I think there’s something wrong with her brain!” The teacher’s sharp finger poked at my head. I almost subconsciously slapped it away. Slap! A red mark appeared on the teacher’s hand. She sneered, “Look! Look at this!” “Transfer her quickly, we can’t handle this.” Mom pulled me into her arms. I could clearly feel the rise and fall of her chest. “Apologize.” The teacher looked contemptuous. “In your dreams…” Mom looked up, her expression icy. “I recorded it.” “If you don’t apologize, I’ll play what you just said at the gate of your kindergarten.” “Let everyone evaluate your professional ethics.” The teacher’s face stiffened, but she still held her neck stiffly and didn’t speak. Mom continued, “I’ll post it on Facebook, send it to the class group chat, and let everyone admire it.” The teacher’s expression changed drastically, and she finally lowered her head. “So… sorry.” Mom took my hand, turned, and left. Back home, Mom asked me why I hit other kids. I said, “Because they all called me a little idiot.” Mom listened, was silent for a while, and told me firmly: “You are not wrong. They are wrong.” From that day on, I became an out-of-school child.

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It was two in the morning, and my phone was having a seizure. I finally fumbled for it on my nightstand, the screen a blinding white in the darkness. Mrs. Wallace. Of course. “Ava,” she slurred, her voice thick with what sounded like wine and entitlement. “The thermostat in the rendering. It’s set to 24 degrees Celsius. The numerology is all wrong. Bad energy. Make it 26.” For a second, my sleep-fogged brain struggled to connect. Then it clicked. The full-home design commission. I forced my eyes open, the grit in them almost audible. “Of course, Mrs. Wallace. I’ll make that change first thing in the morning.” Ten minutes later, a FaceTime request lit up the room. I let it ring. It stopped, then immediately started again. I sighed and accepted. Her face, slick with some expensive night cream, filled the screen. “The entryway,” she commanded, pointing a manicured finger somewhere off-screen. “The shoes you placed by the door. I would never wear those. Fix it.” I mumbled an incoherent agreement. A few minutes passed. Another FaceTime call. “The windowsill,” she snapped. “The planter is white. My husband prefers blue. A cobalt blue. And the pattern on it needs to be symmetrical.” I fought the primal urge to hang up. “Mrs. Wallace,” I said, my voice strained with forced patience, “these are just placeholder details for the initial rendering. You’ll be able to arrange the decor however you like once the renovation is complete.” I thought that was the end of it. I was wrong. Just as I was drifting back to sleep, a sound ripped through the quiet of my apartment. BAM. BAM. BAM. Someone was pounding on my door. 1 All traces of sleep vanished, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. I crept out of bed and peered through the peephole. My blood ran cold. It was her. Sharon Wallace. I unlatched the door, and before I could even process the shock, she was towering over me, radiating fury. “From 2:00 AM to 4:43 AM, I initiated 132 video calls. Why didn’t you answer?” The sheer audacity of the question left me speechless. “Don’t you dare use ‘I was sleeping’ as an excuse,” she sneered. “Your job is to be on call. 24/7.” I glanced at my phone. The call log was a solid, unrelenting block of her name. A hundred and thirty-two calls. Then driving across the city to hammer on my door. The dam of my professionalism broke. “I am not obligated to answer your calls in the middle of the night, Mrs. Wallace. That is my personal time.” Her face contorted. “Personal time?” she screeched. “The client isn’t resting, so what gives you the right to rest?” She pushed past me into my apartment. “Now, open your laptop and make these changes exactly as I say.” She began rattling off a list. “One, the desk mouse is wired. I use a wireless mouse. Change it. Two, turn off that accent lighting in the living room. Are you trying to run up my electricity bill? Three, the fruit bowl on the coffee table. Pears? Pears are for farewells. Are you trying to jinx my marriage? Change them to pomegranates. For abundance.” She finally paused, glaring at me. “You have ten minutes. Send it to me for review.” That was it. I was done. “You are my client,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “You do not have the right to give me orders, and you certainly do not have the right to show up at my home and pound on my door.” In all my years working my way up in my family’s business, I’d seen my share of difficult clients. But this level of aggressive, unhinged entitlement was new. “Are you leaving now, or should I wait for the police to escort you out?” I raised my phone, my thumb hovering over the 9-1-1 shortcut. She let out a string of curses and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I thought the harassment would end there. The next day, I went into the office early to revise her files. The moment I opened the design software, a video call came through from her. “Well, look who’s alive,” she chirped. “I told you to make those changes at five this morning. What have you been doing?” Before I could answer, she cut me off. “I’m going to watch you work. Go on. Faster!” I clenched my jaw. I am the daughter of the CEO of this entire corporation. The only reason I was here, hiding my identity and taking this abuse, was to understand the company from the ground up. On my screen, Sharon Wallace was lounging on a plush sofa, a green mask on her face, pointing at the design. “The plant in the living room. The third leaf from the top has a spot on it. Get rid of it.” I said nothing, but my internal monologue was a stream of pure venom. “And white flowers in the entryway? Are you trying to curse me? Change them to roses!” I took a deep breath and swapped the lilies for roses. Then we got to the master bedroom. Her eyes narrowed. She pointed a trembling finger at the pillows on the king-sized bed. “You bitch, Ava!” she screamed. “You want my husband and me to break up so you can crawl into his bed, don’t you!” My patience snapped. “And what evidence do you have for that insane accusation?” “Evidence? The pillows! They’re green, and they’re so far apart! What kind of sick game are you playing? I see right through you!” I slammed my mouse down on the desk. “My sick game? You’re the one who requested a sage green linen set! You’re the one who said a wider spacing on the pillows looked more ‘aesthetically pleasing’ for a California king! Have you lost your mind, Sharon?” I ended the call and silenced my phone. The world was finally, blessedly quiet. The quiet lasted less than five minutes. My supervisor, Mr. Davies, burst into the office, his face a thundercloud. He marched straight to my desk. “Ava, who the hell gave you the nerve to upset Mrs. Wallace?” he boomed. “You will call her, on video, and apologize immediately. Or you can pack your things and get out.” Apologize? I hadn’t done anything wrong. I suppressed my rage, pulled up the security footage from my apartment building’s hallway, and showed him the log of 132 missed calls. “Sharon Wallace harassed me all night, and when I didn’t answer, she showed up at my apartment and tried to break down my door,” I explained calmly. “Just now, she accused me of trying to sleep with her husband. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s her.” Smack. Davies slapped his hand on my desk, the veins in his forehead bulging. “If you want to keep your job, you will apologize. Now. Otherwise, you’re fired.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a hiss. “And your final paycheck? That five thousand dollars goes straight to Mrs. Wallace as compensation for your attitude.” Every word was a command. I felt my composure cracking. I looked him dead in the eye. “Dream on.” A cold, ugly smile spread across his face. “You’re forcing my hand, Ava.” He turned and raised his voice to address the entire office. “Listen up, everyone! Since Ava refuses to take responsibility for her actions, the whole department will pay the price! For every hour she refuses to apologize, five hundred dollars will be deducted from each of your paychecks!” The room erupted in groans and angry murmurs. “Just say you’re sorry, Ava,” someone whined. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t make us all suffer for it.” Greg, from two desks over, shot to his feet. “You want to be a martyr? Fine. But don’t drag us down with you. Some of us have mortgages to pay!” Then Quinn, who sat next to me, the one I’d always considered a friend, stood up. “Guys, don’t be too hard on Ava,” she said in a placating tone. “She just… only ever thinks about herself.” She looked at me with pity. “She’s not trying to get us all fined. She’s just petty like that.” Her words were a slap in the face. I laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “Quinn, if I recall correctly, you only got this job because my family pulled some strings, didn’t you?” Her face went pale. “I have the power to get you in here, and I have the power to get you thrown out.” She sank back into her chair, her head bowed. I looked around at the faces of my colleagues, the people I’d covered shifts for, helped with deadlines, brought coffee for. The people now glaring at me as if I were the enemy. My heart turned to ice. In front of everyone, I ripped my employee ID from its lanyard and tossed it on the desk. If the choice was between screwing over my colleagues and screwing over myself, I’d rather go back to corporate headquarters. Back to the position my father had waiting for me. “I quit.” Davies strode over, a smug look on his face. “Ava, Ava, Ava,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “A girl like you, with no connections, no special talent. Who’s going to hire you after you leave us? This firm has been good to you. Out there? You won’t even be able to afford rent.” I had lost all patience. I turned and walked toward the door. Let someone else have this godforsaken job. Just as my hand touched the handle, my phone rang. It was the corporate Compliance Department. “Ms. Scott?” a stern voice said. “Per the request of your client, Mrs. Sharon Wallace, you are required to complete her design draft as specified. Failure to do so will result in a breach of contract, and you will be liable for a penalty of two hundred thousand dollars.” I laughed in disbelief. “She’s the one making baseless demands, and you’re siding with her without even investigating?” It seemed the entire department needed a complete overhaul. I was about to hang up when the voice on the other end added, “And given your history of insubordination, this penalty will be passed to your official mentor to be paid out of his medical leave fund.” My blood ran cold. William. “This has nothing to do with him!” William was the only person in this entire office who had been genuinely kind to me. He was in the hospital, recovering from a sudden illness. He didn’t have family money; he had a wife and two kids. Without that fund, he’d be ruined. I couldn’t let a good man suffer because of me. I swallowed my pride and my rage. “Fine,” I bit out. “I’ll finish the project before I resign.” The person on the other end chuckled. “Wise choice.” They had no idea what I was really thinking. A department this corrupt didn’t need an overhaul. It needed to be dismantled, and every single person in it needed to be fired for gross negligence. I walked back to my desk. Davies smirked when he saw me. “Changed your mind? I told you. Someone like you could never survive without this company.” He then placed a small, white device on the corner of my desk—a pet monitoring camera. Before I could ask, a shrill, tinny voice erupted from its speaker. “Ava! What are you waiting for? Get back to work!” My phone pinged. An email from Sharon. I opened it. It was a 20-page document titled “Working Protocol.” I scanned the list, each rule more insane than the last. If your hand leaves the mouse for more than three seconds during work hours, this month’s performance bonus is forfeited. Bathroom breaks may not exceed three minutes. Any longer will be considered an unauthorized absence. All messages from me must be answered within 20 seconds, including nights, weekends, and holidays. When communicating with me, you must address me as ‘Mrs. Wallace.’ The final rule, on page twenty, was the kicker. If any of the above protocols are violated, you must kneel on the floor and continue your work until I am satisfied. What fresh hell is this? I rolled my eyes and deleted the file. Trying my best to ignore the camera spying on me, I quickly finished a new version of the design and sent it to Sharon. A few seconds later, her voice shrieked from the camera. “Ava! You did not address me as ‘Mrs. Wallace’ in your email!” The command followed instantly. “Kneel! Now! And state the reason for your violation!” Her voice was so loud that the entire office turned to stare. Davies rushed over and put a heavy hand on my shoulder, his face beaded with sweat. “Just do it, Ava! Are you trying to get us all fined again?” Sharon’s voice, dripping with smug satisfaction, floated from the speaker. “Let me tell you something, sweetheart. In here, I am the law. And when you break the law, you get punished.” The threat was clear. “I’ll count to three. If you’re not on your knees, your entire company will be kneeling with you.” She laughed, a low, cruel sound. “What else is a bottom-feeder like you good for, anyway? Your only purpose is to kneel and keep me happy.” That was it. I couldn’t take another second. Helping my father, learning the business—none of it was worth this level of degradation. But if I didn’t kneel, all these innocent—well, mostly innocent—people would be dragged down with me. “Three… two…” I snatched the heavy ceramic mug from my desk. With a roar of pure frustration, I hurled it at the camera. It shattered on impact. “Kneel for my ancestors!” I screamed, my voice raw. “Who the hell do you think you are to command me? Fuck your rules! I’ve had it with you, you entitled, sadistic bitch! Get the hell out of my life!” I yanked the camera’s cord from the wall and threw the useless plastic on the floor. The office was dead silent. Davies’s face was a mottled purple. “Ava,” he hissed, “do you have any idea who you just insulted? That is the fiancée of the richest man in this city’s son!” An older employee, who had been quiet until now, stood up and pointed a trembling finger at me. “You’re insane, Ava! Don’t you know Mrs. Wallace could have us all blacklisted from the industry with a single phone call? You’ve ruined us! All of us!” Quinn jumped to her feet, her face twisted in rage. “You troublemaker! The future daughter-in-law of Robert Sinclair! Are you happy now that you’ve dragged us all into your mess?” She swung her arm, aiming to slap me across the face. I caught her wrist in a vice grip and twisted. She cried out in pain. “The son of the city’s wealthiest man,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You mean Leo Sinclair?” Davies froze, then let out a derisive snort. “So, now you realize who you’ve crossed?” I nodded slowly and pulled out my phone, opening my photo gallery to a recent family picture. In it, my brother had his arm slung casually around my shoulders. Standing behind us, beaming, was the man they all feared: Robert Sinclair. “Let me properly introduce myself,” I said, turning the screen for them to see. “My name is Ava Sinclair. And Leo? He’s my idiot younger brother.” The office was silent for a full thirty seconds. Then, it erupted in laughter. “Keep lying,” Davies choked out, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I could photoshop something more convincing than that.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright, Ms. Sinclair. If Robert Sinclair is your father, call him right now. If he shows up, we’ll all apologize to you. On our knees. We’ll even slap ourselves ten times each.” I smiled grimly and dialed my father. “Dad, it’s me—” CRASH! The office door flew open, kicked in with tremendous force. My phone was snatched from my hand and smashed against the floor. Sharon Wallace stood there, flanked by two burly men who looked like hired thugs. “You worthless piece of trash!” she shrieked, her face a mask of fury. “I gave you the honor of kneeling for me, and you dare to curse me?” She lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. I was forced to look at her two goons. “She broke the rules, and she defied me,” Sharon said to them. “Tell me, what do we do with lowlife scum like this?” “She needs to be taught a lesson, Mrs. Wallace!” they chanted in unison. I tried to break free, but one of them kicked the back of my knee, sending me crashing to the floor. The other pinned my arms behind my back. My kneecaps hit the hard floor with a sickening thud. I struggled, but their grip was like iron. Davies scurried to offer Sharon a chair. She sat, crossing her legs, looking down at me like a queen surveying a particularly disgusting insect. She extended one leg, the razor-sharp heel of her stiletto pressing into the back of my head. “Ava, since you can’t seem to learn the rules, I guess I’ll have to teach them to you myself.” At her nod, one goon twisted my arm while the other tightened his grip on my hair. A bolt of agony shot through me, and my body went limp, pitching forward. Thump. My forehead hit the tile. The world exploded in a flash of black and white. “Again,” Sharon’s vicious voice cut through the ringing in my ears. “Until I’m satisfied.” She pressed her heel down, grinding it into the floor, my head trapped beneath it. The pain was so intense I thought I would pass out. Thump. “What’s wrong, Ava?” she taunted. “Where’s all that fight? Where’s that backbone? Look at you now, kneeling like a pathetic dog.” Thump. Thump. Thump. The goon slammed my head against the floor again and again. A warm stream of liquid trickled down my forehead, blurring my vision. I bit my lip, tasting blood, and forced myself to look up at her. “When my dad gets here,” I squeezed the words through clenched teeth, “you’re finished.” Sharon froze for a second, then burst into maniacal laughter. “Your dad? What, is he some construction worker from a job site down the street?” Her eyes glittered with a new, venomous idea. “Fine. Let him come. Let him see what his daughter really is.” She leisurely stood up and retrieved a utility knife from her purse. I tried to turn my head away, but the goon held me fast. Click. The blade slid out, glinting under the office lights. “A worthless bitch like you should have it carved on your face for the whole world to see.” The cold metal traced a path along my cheek, sending a tremor of pure terror through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the searing pain. It’s over. It’s really over… The instant before the blade could cut— BANG! The main door of the firm was thrown open with such force it slammed against the wall. A powerful voice, filled with a familiar, grounding authority, echoed through the room. “You dare lay a hand on my daughter? Grant, liquidate every asset tied to the Wallace name. Terminate all our contracts with their family’s companies. Immediately.”

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I opened my eyes in a new body, and my phone buzzed with a text. Are you dead yet? If not, get your ass over here and apologize. If Sarah forgives you, I’ll consider not breaking up with you. I dragged the System out and demanded an explanation. “…It’s like this. The original owner of this body completed the male lead’s 100 demands and has already returned to her original world to save her lover. So, I dropped you in here.” I grabbed my head and screamed, “I asked you to find me a man, not a scumbag!” “Don’t panic! I didn’t say you have to be with the male lead. There are plenty of hot guys here. Plus, the original owner saved up tens of millions of dollars that she didn’t spend. I brought you here to enjoy life!” Tens of millions? Suddenly, I felt much better. My phone vibrated again. Be in this VIP room in 30 minutes. Fix your attitude. Don’t be stubborn. My fingers flew across the screen: Account owner deceased. I hacked this account. Blocked. 1 ? You’re dead, so a ghost is replying to me? Stop playing these childish games. You know I don’t have much patience. Tsk. Technically, when the original owner left this world, if the System hadn’t dropped me in, this body would be dead. So I didn’t lie. Whatever. I’ve seen this script a million times. This male lead’s “100 demands” were definitely inhumane. Kneeling in the rain at midnight, donating corneas, kidneys, livers—the usual “abused heroine” tropes. I never understood the System’s twisted tastes. Seeing this kind of guy makes me lose my appetite. I have zero interest in dealing with him. After all, I’m rich now! Tens of millions! “System, check my account. Exactly how many millions are we talking?” “Let me see… eighty million. Why are you looking at me like that? You want to spend it now?” I was so happy I almost threw my pillow at the ceiling. “Spend! Of course I’m spending it! Having money and not spending it is a crime! Quick, find me the most expensive, most luxurious club in the city with the hottest male models!” “I want to order eight of them at once!” I was poor my entire last life. Finally, it’s my turn to be a sugar mama! 2 I quickly applied a cold, glamorous “ice queen” makeup look, picked out a stunning bright red dress, and spun a few times in front of the mirror. Great body. Curves in all the right places. Just like the real me. Satisfied. Just as I was about to leave, the phone rang. No caller ID. I answered it directly. “Chloe, it’s been thirty minutes. Why aren’t you here yet?” “Don’t think just because you’re my girlfriend you can do whatever you want. When you make a mistake, you apologize. Did you forget how to be a decent human being?” The disgust and impatience in his voice were practically dripping through the phone. I realized immediately—it was the scumbag. Gross. But I was in a good mood, so I decided to explain one last time. “Buddy, your girlfriend kicked the bucket. I’m a possessing spirit. So no, I won’t be coming.” “This person has absolutely nothing to do with you anymore. Don’t contact me again. Byeee~” I hung up swiftly and blocked the number. Flipped my hair, stepped into my heels. “Let’s go! Platinum Club!” 3 When the manager heard I wanted the most luxurious VIP suite and the most expensive male models, his smile nearly split his face. He hurriedly had someone show me the way and promised to bring their top guys over shortly. I was grinning ear to ear too. Never enjoyed life like this before. But before I even reached the suite, someone stopped me. “Yo, isn’t that Chloe?” “I thought you had a backbone. You kept saying you wouldn’t come, but here you are, rolling over like a dog.” “Liam! Your girl is here!” I looked the guy up and down, confused. He was dressed decently, but his face screamed “NPC.” Then, a stream of people poured out of the adjacent room. Someone started clapping. “I won the bet! I told you, she’s trained like Liam’s dog. Even if she throws a tantrum, she always comes back obediently.” “Ten grand. Pay up.” Another guy shook his head, sighing as he took out his phone to transfer the money. A man and a woman walked out from the center of the group. Judging by their looks and positioning, they were the alpha couple of the pack. The man sneered. “You finally decided to show up? I thought you were dead.” I silently assessed the group and called the System. “System, who are these people? Is that the male lead?” “…Yes. I didn’t know he was here.” So this is the male lead, Liam. And the woman next to him must be the female antagonist, Sarah, that he mentioned. But— What does that have to do with me? I smiled and gave him an OK sign. “Yes, that’s right. You should treat me as dead.” “If you see me in the future, act like you saw a ghost. Pretend you didn’t see me, okay?” I turned to enter my suite, but my arm was grabbed. Liam’s face was long. “You’re not apologizing?” “Why should I apologize?” “You knew Sarah was allergic to mangoes, yet you ordered a fruit platter with mangoes. She almost went into shock and had to go to the hospital. Shouldn’t you apologize?” I laughed. “She knew she was allergic to mangoes, yet she ate from a fruit platter with mangoes. Is she brain-dead?” A weird silence fell over the scene. Until a sob broke it. “Liam, don’t make it hard for Chloe. I believe she didn’t do it on purpose. It was dark in the room, I ate the wrong thing by mistake. Let’s just let it go.” I immediately jumped on that. “Hear that? The Pick-me Girl said she ate it by mistake. What’s wrong with you, forcing me to apologize?” “Let go. Let go.” I shook his paw off my arm. Looking back, everyone’s expressions were colorful. Sarah pointed at herself in disbelief. “…Did you call me a Pick-me Girl?” “Yeah, I speak my mind, don’t take it personally. Besides, your face looks pretty green right now, any problem?” “Chloe, don’t push it!” Liam roared. “If you didn’t come to apologize, then why are you here?” “To beg me not to break up with you?” “Is this your attitude when begging me?” I crossed my arms, narrowed my eyes, and looked at him like he was an idiot. “Beg my ass. Dude, this is a club. What do you think I’m here for?” Just then, the manager arrived leading a row of flamboyantly dressed male models right to me. Every type you could imagine. The manager bowed fawningly. “Ms. Fang, I brought the guys. are you satisfied?” Silence fell over the hallway. I scanned the line, my eyes lighting up. “Yes! Yes! Bring them all in!” I told the manager to bring them into the suite and ordered several bottles of expensive wine. Looking back, Liam’s group stood there, dumbfounded, staring at me like they had actually seen a ghost. 4 Just as I was about to enter the suite, my hand was grabbed for the second time. Again? Liam gritted his teeth. “Chloe, you came here to find men?!” I rolled a massive eye. “None of your business. I told you already, I’m not your girlfriend. Go accompany your high-maintenance tea set and stop annoying me.” I tried to shake him off but couldn’t. So I lifted my high heel and stomped down hard with the pointed stiletto. No mercy. Liam’s face turned green, and he let go instantly. He wanted to scream but held it in, his face twisting, mouth twitching. “Fine, Chloe. You’re really something.” “Don’t come crawling back to beg for my forgiveness later. Let’s go!” Liam waved his hand, leading his group back into their room in a huff. But the people behind him seemed reluctant, clearly wanting to watch more drama. I flipped them off with zero class and click-clacked into my suite. As expected of the city’s biggest gold mine. The quality of the male models was top-tier. Tan skin, pale skin, everyone had an eight-pack. Calling me “Sister” sweetly enough to melt my heart. I opened 6 bottles of champagne and touched enough abs to last a lifetime. I picked up the microphone and started singing my heart out. The boys were very supportive. Even though I sang terribly, they listened as if entranced. My piercing high notes occasionally attracted people passing by to peek in. Whatever. A diva naturally attracts an audience. I sat on the shoulders of the tallest, most muscular boy, singing with abandon. Just as I was about to hit a high note, Boom! The door was kicked open. Simultaneously, the 7 boys around me popped their party poppers. Confetti and petals filled the room, covering the intruder. Seeing the scene inside, the group at the door gasped. Liam was shaking with rage. “Chloe, get down!” … This dog again! I patted the muscle boy’s shoulder, signaling him to put me down. “Bro, you’re haunting me. What do you want now?”

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After three years abroad, I stumbled upon a livestream that was absolutely blowing up. The clickbait title read: “A-List Starlet DESTROYS OnlyFans Wannabe! You Won’t Believe What Happens Next!” I was about to scroll past, laughing at the trashy headline, when I froze. The woman being labeled an “OnlyFans wannabe” wasn’t some random stranger. It was my best friend, the one trying to make it as a serious actress in Hollywood. She was stripped down to her underwear, kneeling on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. And the backdrop? It was my $50 million Hamptons estate that I let her stay in. Surrounding her was a clique of flashy, over-dressed influencers and B-list celebrities, mocking her relentlessly. “What do you mean this is your friend’s house?” sneered a woman in a white designer dress, acting like she owned the place. “Everyone knows this is the location Liam secured for me to film in!” She flipped her hair, feigning generosity. “Look, Liam gave me this estate. If you want inside, fine. But you’re gonna have to crawl in naked.” “I mean, you’re basically an adult film star anyway, right? Being naked shouldn’t be a big deal for you.” The live chat was toxic: Yaaas Chloe! Drag her! That shameless tramp deserves it! Her ‘friend’ is probably just another sugar baby! Liam? Liam Sterling? That was my fiancé. Who the hell was this squatter acting like the queen of my castle, bullying my best friend right in front of my eyes? I saw red. I booked the next flight to New York immediately. Then I called my fiancé. “You have ten minutes to get your ass over here.” “And you better be ready to explain to these people who actually owns the Hamptons estate.” 1. I clicked into the stream, ready to drop a few thousand dollars in “Super Chats” to support my best friend, Anna. Instead, I watched as she was blocked at the massive iron gates of my property. Even though she had the keys. No matter how many times she repeated, “This is my best friend’s house, she let me stay here!”, the security guards—people I didn’t recognize—wouldn’t budge. “Mr. Sterling gave us strict orders,” one guard said coldly. “Today, the estate belongs to Ms. Chloe Vance.” I was stunned. This was supposed to be Anna’s big break—a livestream reality show debut. The premise was simple: the cast brings the venues, and they live together for a week. Even though I hadn’t been in the States for a few years, I never skimped on supporting her. I immediately offered her my Hamptons estate, “The Dune House,” for filming. So what the hell was happening? On screen, the group of women surrounded Anna, laughing. “You? A nobody with a sketchy background knows someone with a house like this?” “Don’t compare yourself to us. You probably rented this for an hour to flex. This is obviously the location Liam got for Chloe!” “Your ‘best friend’ is probably imaginary, or just some other girl trying to bag a rich guy. Hilarious!” Chloe Vance, looking like the lady of the manor in her white dress, looked down at Anna with fake sympathy that barely masked her smugness. “Anna, honey, if you couldn’t secure a venue, just say so. We’d understand. You don’t have to lie and say the house Liam gave me belongs to your friend.” Anna flinched just looking at Chloe. But thinking of me seemed to give her strength. “It really is my friend’s house. I have proof…” Before she could finish, someone splashed a full glass of water right in her face. Her shirt soaked through instantly, clinging to her skin. Instead of cutting the feed, the camera crew zoomed in on my friend, who was desperately trying to cover her chest, looking humiliated. Chloe smirked. It was obviously intentional, but she gasped, covering her mouth with zero sincerity. “Oops! My bad, Anna. Hand slipped.” “But we can’t delay filming. Why don’t you take off that wet shirt before you come inside?” “Even though Liam gave me this place, I have to take care of it. If you drip water on the antique rugs or the art, you definitely couldn’t afford to replace them.” She looked Anna up and down, sneering. “Besides, considering your… past work, showing some skin for views is just another Tuesday for you, right?” Anna’s face went pale. She tried to defend herself, but Chloe’s posse was already reaching out, tugging at her clothes. The chat went wild. LMAO finally! Can’t stand her! She’s always acting innocent but we know she’s thirsty. Show us what you got! Chloe is the queen of calling out fakes! I rubbed my eyes. I thought I was hallucinating. But no. That was Anna. My Anna. And that was my house. It was the property old Mr. Sterling begged me to accept when Liam and I got engaged. I bought it as our future wedding home. My money. My name on the deed. I left it empty when I went abroad to be with my parents for their retirement. So since when did it belong to Chloe and “Liam”? On screen, Anna was outnumbered. Her buttons popped off. She was down to her bra, sobbing. “Please! I’m done! I quit! Just let me go!” Chloe laughed, delivering the final blow. “Honey, you signed a contract. You can’t just quit.” “As the owner of this house, I make the rules today.” “Either strip naked and crawl inside, or pay the $5 million breach of contract fee. Your choice.” Seeing Anna’s despair, my rage burned away all reason. Who was this absolute trash acting like she owned the place? I boarded my flight. Just wait until the real owner shows up. 2. By the time I landed in New York and drove out to the Hamptons, the crew had started filming Day 2. I rolled up with a team of bodyguards and stormed past the confused security at the gate. I burst into the living room just in time to see Anna kneeling on the floor, shivering. She was wearing a humiliatingly short maid outfit. In front of her was a pile of chewed-up food someone had spit onto the marble floor. Chloe frowned, acting distressed. “Anna, your punishment yesterday was to serve us today. But look at this mess. You haven’t even cleaned the floor properly.” “Here, let me help you.” She lifted her foot and stomped on Anna’s head, trying to force her face into the vomit-like mess. My pupils dilated. I didn’t think. I sprinted forward and slapped Chloe across the face with everything I had. Crack. Chloe stumbled back, screaming. I pulled Anna up. She was a wreck. My heart broke. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, hugging her tight. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” Anna realized it was me and stopped shaking for a second. But then panic set in. She tried to push me away. She turned to kneel before Chloe again. “Ms. Vance, I’m sorry! It’s my fault! Don’t be mad at her! I’ll clean it up right now!” Chloe recovered from the shock of the slap. She clutched her red, swelling cheek, the “gentle girl” mask slipping completely. “You bitch! You hit me?! Do you have any idea who I am?!” I looked at Anna. Before I left, she was bright, confident, ready to take on the world. Three years later, she was broken. I grabbed Anna, forcing her to stand. “Get up! Do not kneel! I am here now!” I turned and kicked Chloe square in the stomach. “I don’t care who you are. The President could be here and I’d still beat your ass.” “Let’s see who dares to stop me!” Chloe shrieked and fell backward—landing right in the pile of gross food. The other celebrities finally snapped out of it, rushing to help her but recoiling at the mess on her dress. They turned on me instead. “Who the hell is this psycho?! Don’t you know Chloe is Liam Sterling’s girl?!” “Liam will literally kill you for touching her!” The livestream chat was exploding: Is this the ‘friend’? Looks like another escort. Probably sleeps with some old oil tycoon and thinks she’s tough. Chloe has Liam Sterling backing her! He buys her million-dollar diamonds like they’re candy! This girl is dead meat. Liam Sterling. Liam Sterling. I finally laughed. Last night, Liam sent me a voice note whining about when I was coming back for our wedding. And now he was apparently Chloe’s knight in shining armor? 3. I pulled out my phone and dialed Liam. He answered instantly, sounding excited. “Tara! Babe! You called! Did you miss me? I’m flying out to see you as soon as I wrap up this deal!” My voice was ice. “Save the flight. Get your ass to The Dune House. Right now.” “You have ten minutes. Come tell everyone here who this house actually belongs to.” The room erupted in laughter. Chloe and her squad were losing it. “Did she just pretend to call Liam? That acting is worse than Anna’s!” “Birds of a feather! You’re both delusional trash!” “If Liam isn’t here in ten minutes, you’re stripping down and scrubbing the floors with your tongue!” Anna was trembling, tugging my sleeve. “Tara, let’s go… we can’t fight them.” I smirked. “There is no one in New York I can’t fight.” Ten minutes later, the roar of a sports car engine cut through the air. Liam strode in wearing a sharp black suit. “Tara!” He started, smiling, until he saw Chloe sobbing on the floor behind me. His expression shifted to annoyance. He frowned at me. “Tara, did you hit Chloe?!” I was waiting for an explanation, and he was questioning me? Whack. I slapped him too. “I hit her, and now I’m hitting you.” “Watch your tone when you speak to me.” Chloe screamed and threw herself into Liam’s arms. “Liam! She’s crazy! She’s jealous you gave me the house!” I crossed my arms, staring Liam down. “The deed is in my name. I paid for it. Since when do you have the right to give my property away?” Chloe looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Liam… is that true?” Liam froze. His face turned red with embarrassment, then anger. He lowered his voice, hissing at me. “Tara, stop making a scene! I already promised her. Just sign the transfer papers later. It’s supposed to be our marital home anyway, so I own half of it in spirit!” I laughed so hard I nearly choked. Then I slapped him again. “You broke ass, gold-digging loser. You beg me for a marriage alliance and then act like a big shot with my assets?” Liam’s eyes bulged. “Tara!” I didn’t stop there. I grabbed Anna’s hand and walked up to Chloe. Slap. “That’s for lying about her career.” Slap. “That’s for squatting in my house.” Slap. “And that is for breaking her spirit!” My bodyguards blocked anyone who tried to intervene. The chat, previously full of Chloe fans, started turning. Wait… is this security for real? She just slapped Liam Sterling! Is this scripted? I’m calling the cops! This is assault! Chloe, the “Sweetheart of America,” was now swollen-faced and shaking. I massaged my wrist, glaring at Liam. “You’ve clearly forgotten that the Sterling family only survived because of my family.” “Last chance. Get these people out of my house. And tell them who owns it.” Before Liam could speak, a furious roar came from the entrance. “Who owns it? Chloe owns it!” 4. I stared at the man walking through the door, my jaw practically hitting the floor. “Tyler?! What the hell?” Chloe saw him and lit up like she’d seen God. She threw herself into his arms. “Tyler! Baby! It hurts so much!” My brother, Tyler Vance, looked heartbroken. Then he walked over and slapped me. Hard. “Tara, you spoiled brat!” “It’s just a house! How dare you hurt Chloe like that!” My ears rang. I stumbled, tasting blood. “You…” I gasped. “Why don’t you ask what she did to Anna?!” Tyler glanced at Anna, who was bruised and disheveled. In the past, he treated Anna like a second sister. Now, he just frowned, dismissing her. “It’s just girl drama. Does it warrant this violence?” “Apologize to Chloe. Now. Or don’t blame me for what happens next.” I saw the light go out in Anna’s eyes. I realized then: Liam wasn’t Chloe’s biggest backer. My own brother was. I spit blood on the floor. “Apologize? She’s not worth the dirt on my shoe.” Chloe started crying on cue. “If Tara is your sister, Tyler, then forget it. I deserve it. I’m just an outsider.” Tyler melted. He looked at me with pure hatred. “Tara, if you won’t learn, I’ll teach you.” He snapped his fingers. “Restrain her!” Ten bodyguards rushed me, pinning me to the ground. Thud. My head hit the marble. Blood trickled down my forehead. “You won’t admit you’re wrong? I’ll beat it out of you!” Tyler yelled. “Hit her ten times for every slap she gave Chloe!” Blow after blow landed on me. Anna screamed. She dropped to her knees. “Tyler… Mr. Vance! Please! It’s my fault! Punish me! Leave Tara alone!” She banged her head against the floor, begging. Tyler ignored her, cooing at Chloe. “Whatever you want, babe. I’m doing this for you.” Chloe pretended to be conflicted, but her eyes were venomous as she looked at Anna. “Well, since Tara won’t apologize… I guess Anna has to take the blame.” “I won’t be mean. Anna, since you’re an ‘adult actress’ anyway… just strip naked and walk around the room once. Then I’ll forgive you.” The room went silent. Anna froze. She had fought so hard against those rumors. She was a serious actor. Yesterday she slammed her head against a wall to avoid stripping, ending up in the ER. Now Chloe wouldn’t let her go. “If you don’t…” Chloe sighed. “Then I guess Tara keeps getting hit.” I felt like my eardrums were going to burst from the slaps. Anna looked at me, then at the camera. If she did this, her life was over. I screamed, struggling against the guards. “ANNA! NO! DO NOT DO IT!” “I apologize! I’m sorry! Stop!” Tyler scoffed. “Too late. Lesson number one: missed opportunities don’t come back.” “Either she strips, or you take a hundred slaps.” Anna looked at me, tears streaming down her face. She mouthed, I’m sorry. She closed her eyes and took off her jacket. Then her shirt. Her pants. Until she was just in her underwear. The men in the room leered. The chat was disgusting. Knew she was a slut! Couldn’t wait to show it off! Gross. She’s probably diseased. She deserves this. Anna covered herself with her arms, shaking. Chloe blinked innocently. “Anna? I said naked. Why are you half-assing this? Do you want Tara to suffer?” Anna flinched. I screamed until my throat tore. “ANNA! STOP!” She smiled at me. A sad, broken smile. Her fingers went to the clasp of her bra. Click. Just as it was about to fall, the front doors were blown off their hinges. A convoy of Rolls Royces screeched into the driveway. Dozens of elite security operatives swarmed the room. And then, two voices I loved more than anything thundered through the hall. “Who the FUCK dares to touch my daughter?!”

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

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

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

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