Category: English

It was Puppy Adoption Day at the shelter, so I posted on my socials: “Puppy near the university campus needs a home.” A DM came in almost instantly. “Is the puppy obedient?” “Very.” “Does the puppy take discipline?” “It’ll take whatever you give it.” “But you can’t hurt the puppy.” “Then can I be the puppy’s master?” “Wire me a hundred to show you’re serious.” The next second, a wire transfer for $100,000 hit my account. 1. I ran to the shelter manager, bursting with excitement. “Sarah, I found an adopter for Buddy! He’s rich, and he seems so kind.” Buddy was a sweet local mutt we’d rescued from a packed kill shelter truck. He’d thrown himself in front of his siblings to protect them, and the ordeal had left him with serious injuries. His tail was half gone, but worse, he was deeply mistrustful of people. I’d always hoped this brave little guy would find the perfect home. Sarah frowned. “Willow, you need to talk to this person again. Go over all the adoption details and explain Buddy’s situation clearly. The fact that he agreed so quickly… it feels strange.” “Oh.” A prickle of guilt went through me. “I, uh, didn’t tell him the specifics about Buddy. I didn’t even send a photo.” Before Sarah could get angry, I held up my hands in surrender. “I know, I know, my mistake. I’ll fix it right now!” I grabbed my phone. Me: You there? He replied instantly. Him: I’m here. Me: Are you absolutely sure you want to be the puppy’s master? Him: Yes. Him: Is there a problem? Him: Not enough money? The next second, another wire transfer. $10,000. Seeing all that money, I was genuinely embarrassed. I couldn’t lie to an adopter this generous. I declined the transfer. Me: It’s not about the money. Him: Then it’s a problem of not enough money. Another transfer notification popped up. $100,000. I counted the zeros. One, two, three, four, five. A hundred thousand dollars. The sheer amount left me feeling both ashamed and terrified. Me: Actually… there’s something wrong with the puppy. 2. Him: It’s not obedient? Me: No, it’s very obedient! Buddy was always so quiet. He was the most well-behaved dog I’d ever met. Him: Then you’re not ready? I get it. A girl might act on impulse and then have second thoughts. It’s okay to change your mind. Him: But if you ever find yourself looking for a master again, I hope you’ll come to me directly instead of posting publicly. This wasn’t an impulse. Finding a home for Buddy was something I had thought about for a long, long time. I defended myself. Me: No, that’s not it. I’m serious about finding a master. Him: Are you worried I’m a bad person? He sent a few photos of himself along with a link. Him: Here’s some basic info on me. I hope this puts your mind at ease. If anything were to happen, you have everything you need to expose me. I clicked the link. It took me to a Wikipedia page. Adrian Vance, noted entrepreneur and philanthropist in our city, just turned thirty this year… Handsome, rich, and charitable. My guilt deepened. I couldn’t deceive him anymore. Fine. I gritted my teeth and typed it all out. Me: The thing is, the puppy has… issues. I’m worried you won’t be able to handle it. A man like you could have any puppy you want—a prettier one, one with a better temperament… Adrian: It doesn’t matter. I would never be ashamed of my puppy. Adrian: And more importantly, you’re the only puppy I want. My heart skipped a beat. Me: The puppy… has some bad habits. The words were hard to type, so I just let them all spill out at once. Me: The puppy is very sensitive. It can have… accidents and drool when it gets scared. It has severe separation anxiety and is very wary of strangers, so the master would need to be with it every day. Also, the puppy is always hungry. It’s like you can never feed it enough… I was fighting for Buddy now. Me: Basically, there are a lot of problems. But the puppy really, truly needs a home and a master who will take good care of it. Can you accept all of that? A brief silence followed. I prayed he wouldn’t just disappear. Buddy wasn’t pretty or personable, just an ordinary, traumatized mutt. Who would choose to spend so much time and energy healing a broken dog when they could have a perfect one? Just as my mind started to spiral, my phone buzzed. It was an incoming voice call from him. I put in my earbuds and answered. “I will love the puppy with all my heart,” Adrian said, his smooth, rich voice with a cool edge filling my ear. “And I promise, I will always make sure the puppy is well-fed.” His voice was like a feather tickling the inside of my ear, and I felt a blush creep up my neck. “You… you really won’t be ashamed of the puppy?” “Never,” Adrian promised. At the same time, another transfer came through. $100,000. The memo line read: Security Deposit. “Are there any other problems with the puppy?” 3. Hearing Adrian’s voice instead of just reading his texts made me so nervous my fingertips went numb. I stammered, “N-no, no more problems.” I took a deep breath to steady myself, Sarah’s instructions echoing in my head. “Wait, actually, yes, Mr. Vance. I do have a few more questions.” His tone on the other end of the line was still gentle. “Don’t rush. Take your time. I’m listening.” “Mr. Vance, have you ever owned a puppy before?” “To be honest, no,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to learn. Can you teach me? I promise I’ll be a good master.” “Of course, no problem,” I said. “First, you need to have plenty of food and water ready. That’s the most basic thing.” Adrian agreed. “Second, you’ll need to buy a crate, a collar, and a leash.” He sounded surprised. “The puppy has to live in a crate? Isn’t that… cruel? I could prepare a separate house for the puppy if it needs its own space.” Oh, my god. Mr. Vance was so kind and thoughtful, and so ridiculously rich. He was really thinking this much about a dog. But a whole house? That was insane. “That’s really not necessary,” I advised. “A new puppy often feels safer in a crate. It gives them a sense of security.” “Okay, noted. I’ll buy a crate,” he said. “What about the collar and leash? Does the puppy have a preference? Oh, and should I get things like a muzzle, a whip, or a paddle?” I blinked. “The collar and leash can be whatever you like, Mr. Vance. The puppy won’t care about the style. It just wants to be with its master. A muzzle is fine, but I’d advise against using a whip. Puppies are fragile, and you wouldn’t want to hurt it. A paddle… sounds like it wouldn’t be too painful. The puppy could probably handle that.” “Understood,” he said seriously. “I’ll be gentle when I discipline it.” “Mr. Vance, you’re such a good person!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re willing to take in a puppy that anyone else would see as… broken.” For the first time, Adrian cut me off, his voice firm. “In my eyes, my puppy will always be the best puppy. I hope you can change your perspective and stop saying such things. It lacks confidence.” Huh? That was… bossy. What did my confidence have to do with anything? Was I supposed to lie and pretend Buddy was perfect? By any normal standard, he was a difficult dog. But judging by Adrian’s tone, he truly believed it. Fine. When it came to loving this puppy, I had to admit he had me beat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vance. You’re right,” I said quickly. “Your puppy is the best puppy in the world.” A soft chuckle came through the line. “Not quite.” “What’s not right?” I asked, confused. “My puppy,” he replied, his voice a low, mesmerizing hum, slightly distorted by the connection, “is the best puppy in the entire universe.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right. Your puppy is definitely the best puppy in the entire universe.” Hearing my simple agreement, Adrian laughed, a warm, genuine sound. He spoke to me like I was a child he was coaxing. “So, have I passed your inspection?” 4. My heart hammered against my ribs. I stumbled over my words. “Y-yes, you’ve passed.” “Am I the puppy’s master now?” Adrian asked. “Sort of.” “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” “It’s not official until after the home visit and you’ve signed the papers.” Adrian was quiet for a moment. “Are you free for a home visit this weekend?” “I am.” “Then, as the puppy’s master-to-be, may I ask you to do one thing for me?” “What is it?” “Could you please delete the post about looking for a master?” “Of course, Master-to-be,” I said without hesitation. After the call ended, I sank into the sofa, replaying the sound of Adrian’s voice in my head. The dark screen of my phone reflected my own smiling face. Several minutes passed before I finally picked up my phone, casually opened my socials, and deleted the post. 5. The weather had been gloomy for days, the sky heavy with the promise of a storm. The weekend arrived, the day Adrian and I had scheduled for me to visit his home. Twenty minutes later, I was in his car. He looked exactly like his photos—handsome, with an air of refined elegance. He wore a black trench coat over a crisp, well-tailored white shirt that highlighted his lean, athletic build. We drove in silence, the city skyline gradually giving way to rolling green hills. Why would a busy tycoon like Adrian choose to live so far out in the mountains? The thought made me a little uneasy. As if sensing my anxiety, Adrian spoke, his hands steady on the steering wheel. “Considering the puppy’s condition, I didn’t think living downtown would be suitable. I happen to own a villa out here, so I decided to move.” So that was why. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr. Vance,” I nodded. To break the awkward silence, I started explaining the basics of puppy care. “You have to be careful when giving the puppy shots. It can get scared and might scratch or bite. It’s a good idea to restrain it and use a muzzle beforehand…” “Shots?” Adrian sounded surprised. “Is that really okay? Wouldn’t restraining it be uncomfortable for the puppy?” “Not if you do it right,” I shook my head. “It can actually make the puppy feel more secure.” Thinking about the battles I’d had with Buddy during his vaccinations, I couldn’t help but smile. “Puppies are smart. They can sense what you’re about to do. So it’s best to take it by surprise. That way, it can’t refuse.” Adrian’s expression was serious. “Okay, I understand. A surprise attack, muzzle, restraints, and then the shot. Is that right?” “Exactly,” I nodded. “You’re a quick learner, Mr. Vance.” 6. Adrian wasn’t much of a talker, and halfway through the drive, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, we had already been at our destination for some time. The villa was huge, and a masterclass in privacy. Adrian led me inside. “There are no live-in maids here, so the puppy can play as much as it wants. We won’t have to worry about being disturbed.” He guided me through the house. “I’ve never been involved in this… scene before, so I’m not entirely sure what puppies like. I spent the last week doing research and rushing to set up this house. I hope the puppy likes it.” That explained the faint dark circles under his eyes. “Mr. Vance, you’ve put so much thought into this,” I said. “I think ninety percent of puppies in the world would love this.” He lowered his gaze to meet mine. “I don’t care if other puppies like it. I only care if my puppy likes it.” He was looking for a definitive answer. I tilted my head back and gave him a bright smile. “Of course, the puppy loves it.” Adrian showed me the different rooms he’d designed. Each had a theme: a playground, a clinic, an office… I watched as his calm explanation turned into a strained attempt at composure, and then, as he opened one particular door, his face went completely red. The room wasn’t large, but its contents were eye-popping. The sheer variety of… items made me wonder if he’d bought out an entire store. But something felt off. These things didn’t look like they were for a dog. They looked like they were for a person. “Mr. Vance, what is all this?” I picked up a small leather whip from an interrogation-style table. “It’s just for disciplining a puppy. Does it really need its own personal prison cell?” I slowly walked around the table to a wall hung with various contraptions. “Mr. Vance, how exactly are you supposed to use these on a puppy?” My fingers brushed against a fluffy, pure-white fox tail. Adrian’s eyelid twitched, his gaze quickly shifting away from the tail in my hand. I then picked up a leather paddle shaped like a cat’s paw. “Is this for punishment? I wonder if it hurts.” With that, I tapped the paddle against the inside of my forearm. The skin immediately turned red, and the paddle itself, surprisingly, changed from black to a soft pink. “Wow, it’s heat-sensitive,” I remarked. “The texture is nice, but that stings a little.” I held out my arm for him to see. A faint red paw print was visible on my skin. Adrian’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. I pouted. “Mr. Vance, when you discipline the puppy, can you please not use this one? The puppy is very sensitive to pain.” His breathing grew heavy, and the hand at his side clenched into a fist. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his voice raspy when he finally spoke. “Fine. I won’t use this paddle.” I was confused. He was the one who bought all this stuff. Why was he acting so reserved now? So strange. My eyes landed on a string of beads hanging on the wall. I picked them up. “What’s this, Mr. Vance? Is it a pearl necklace for the puppy?” I gave them a squeeze. “That’s odd. Why are the pearls so soft? It feels like rubber. Mr. Vance, did you buy a fake? How is the puppy supposed to wear this?” “Hey, Mr. Vance, what are you— Mmph!?” Without any warning, a rubber ball was shoved into my mouth. Adrian had finally snapped. His lips were against my ear, his voice a low whisper. “Master will now teach the puppy how to use its necklace.”

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The house was on fire with my parents inside when I called my husband for help. His voice was unnervingly calm. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sienna.” “The power was out. Stella was just being thoughtful, dropping off some candles for them.” “It’s probably just the candlelight flickering,” he said. “You’re far away. You’re seeing things.” My voice trembled. “It’s real! The flames have already…” He cut me off, his tone like ice. “If they get themselves killed playing with candles, that’s their own damn fault.” In utter despair, I raced to the scene, meeting the rescue crews there. What we found were two bodies, charred beyond recognition, blackened silhouettes against the smoldering ruins of my childhood home. I saw Stella standing a short distance away and screamed, pointing a shaking finger. “You! You did this! You’re a murderer!” My husband, Grant, lunged at me, his hand connecting with my cheek in a vicious slap. “What the hell is wrong with you!” he snarled, pulling Stella behind him protectively. His eyes were cold, vicious. “If you want to blame someone, blame your useless parents for not having the brains to get out of a simple fire!” He looked down at Stella, his voice softening. “Stella’s already traumatized by this disgusting scene, and you’re here making false accusations. You owe her a million dollars for emotional damages!” Just then, my phone rang. I answered, my hand shaking so hard I could barely hold it. My mother’s familiar voice came through the line. “You silly girl, did you forget your brother’s birthday? We’re all waiting for you. Finish up whatever you’re doing and get over here.” In the background, I could hear my father’s cheerful laugh. “Drive safe, sweetheart!” I froze, the world tilting on its axis. The phone nearly slipped from my grasp. If my parents were at my brother’s house… Then who were the two people who had just burned to death inside my home? 1 I stared at the two charred bodies on the ground, about to step closer to try and identify them. Grant grabbed my arm, his eyes filled with revulsion. “Sienna, they’re charcoal. Are you really going to touch that? How disgusting can you be?” Leaning against his chest, Stella immediately covered her mouth and made an exaggerated gagging sound. A chilling coldness spread from my heart through my entire body. Those were two human lives, and to them, they were nothing more than repulsive garbage. The hushed whispers of the neighbors reached my ears. “Does she have any shame? The fire trucks were here twenty minutes ago, but her car was blocking the fire lane. That’s what held up the rescue!” “The worst part is, she doesn’t have a scratch on her, but she just sat on the ground crying that her legs were too weak to move the car. And the guy was even worse! Instead of moving the damn car, he was too busy comforting her, just watching the flames get bigger and bigger…” “It was awful… you could hear them screaming for help inside. The firefighters couldn’t get through. They were burned alive…” Every word was a hammer blow to my soul. I trembled with rage, pointing at Grant. “You monster! Those were two people in there! You just let them die!” He was utterly unapologetic. “Stella was having a panic attack! Was I supposed to just leave her there? Besides, I didn’t start the fire. What does it have to do with me?” His voice dripped with scorn. “Sienna, the only reason you’re on this moral high horse is because you think it was your parents who died.” “They were too incompetent to watch a single candle. They were asking for it. Who else is there to blame?” This man, whom my parents had treated like their own son for five years, could say something so cruel after hearing of their deaths. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. “Are you even human!” Stella cried out, jumping in front of him. Her voice was thick with manufactured tears. “Sienna, please, it’s all my fault…” she sobbed. “I was just trying to be helpful, bringing them candles for the blackout. How was I supposed to know they’d be so careless they’d burn themselves alive? I wanted to save them, I really did, but I’ve always been terrified of fire. My legs just gave out…” “If you’re angry, hit me! Don’t hurt Grant! If you can’t forgive me, then… then I’ll go in there and pay for it with my life!” She made a show of trying to run into the smoldering wreckage. Watching her pathetic performance, a dark part of me wished she’d actually do it—that she would pay the price for the lives that were lost. But Grant was too quick. He swept her into his arms, holding her tight. “Stella, you’re too good. It was their own damn fault. How could this ever be on you?” I was done with them. I walked over to a police officer. “Officer, I’m the homeowner, Sienna Hale. Have you determined the cause of the fire? And have the victims been identified?” Before I could finish, Grant’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Sienna! When are you going to stop?” he snapped. “I already signed the incident report. It’s in black and white: accidental fire. And as for Stella’s car blocking the fire lane, I signed a waiver on your behalf. Just drop it.” His tone softened slightly, laced with a kind of patronizing pity. “Look, I know this is hard for you. I’ve already had my assistant select the best burial plots. Consider it a condolence gift from me for the loss of your parents. Let them rest in peace.” 2 I could barely breathe. The man who once cherished me was now twisting the truth, all for Stella. “Grant, this is my house that burned down! What right do you have to sign anything on my behalf?” My voice rose. “And more importantly, the people who died in there were not my parents! So on whose authority do you forgive Stella?” Grant looked at me as if I’d told the world’s greatest joke and let out a short, sharp laugh. “Sienna, have you lost your mind? At this time of night, your parents would have been in the kitchen making me dinner. If it wasn’t them, who else could it be?” Stella, right on cue, reddened her eyes. “She’s right, Sienna. The fire chief had Grant and me identify some personal effects earlier. The watch on the male victim’s wrist, the jade bracelet on the female’s… they were the ones your parents wore every day. There’s no mistake.” I pulled out my phone, ready to call my parents and prove them wrong. Grant snatched it from my hand, threw it to the ground, and crushed it under his heel. “Sienna, are you deaf? They’re dead! How long are you going to keep this up?” Shaking with fury, I turned back to the police officer. “Officer, please,” I begged, “I swear to you as the homeowner, the victims are not my parents. You can call them right now to verify it.” My voice grew firm. “Two strangers died in my home. I have to know who they really are.” Seeing my conviction, the officer took down my parents’ number and dialed. But the phone that had rung just minutes ago now met a cold, continuous busy signal. A flicker of triumph, almost imperceptible, crossed Stella’s face. “Sienna, I know it’s hard to accept that they’re gone… but you can’t make things difficult for everyone. How do you expect the officer to bring your parents back to life?” I ignored her, insisting that the police open a formal investigation. The officer, realizing something was amiss, gave me a solemn promise. “We’ll send the remains to the medical examiner for DNA analysis immediately,” he said. “Please come with us to the station to cooperate with the investigation.” After giving my DNA sample at the station, I went straight to the morgue. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the evidence tray. There was the old watch, engraved with my father’s name, and the jade bracelet with its tiny, familiar hairline crack. These two items… my parents truly never took them off. This was getting stranger and stranger. Who broke into my house, put on my parents’ most personal belongings, and died in a fire? As my mind reeled, the door swung open and Stella walked in. Under the stark, fluorescent lights, the two charred bodies looked even more gruesome. She took one look and couldn’t stop herself from dry heaving. Grant immediately pulled her into his arms, covering her eyes. “Don’t look. It’s filthy.” Stella, however, put on a pained expression. “It’s all my fault… If I hadn’t brought those candles, they wouldn’t have died. I should be the one to apologize to them…” She suddenly looked up at me, the light catching a defiant glint in her eyes. “But then again, with an IQ like that, they were just wasting oxygen. Their dying was probably a public service. Don’t you think, Grant?” Even though I knew they weren’t my parents, her callous disregard for human life made the rage in my stomach boil over. I lunged forward and slapped her hard across the face. “Two human lives, and they mean nothing to you?” I snarled. “You want to apologize? Fine. I’ll kill you right now and you can apologize to them in hell.” I moved to strike her again, but Grant grabbed my wrist. His eyes were devoid of any warmth, only a chilling warning. “Sienna, don’t push your luck.” “At the end of the day, it was your parents’ own incompetence. They burn the house down with a candle and die for it. They got what they deserved. Why should Stella take the blame?” Seeing him defend her so fiercely, I felt a wave of nausea. I looked him straight in the eye, my voice perfectly calm. “Grant, let’s get a divorce.” He was clearly taken aback for a second, then a mocking sneer spread across his face. “What, you’re trying to threaten me with a divorce? You really think too highly of yourself.” He squared his shoulders. “Stella just moved back. She’s about to launch her new design line, and she can’t be associated with any negative press. You want a divorce? Not until you agree to drop this whole fire thing. Forget it.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Stella and they walked out. As I watched their retreating figures, the last ember of love I had for him finally died out. 3 Determined to stay on top of the case, I spent a miserable night curled up on a bench at the police station. The next morning, however, an officer informed me that the case was already closed. Just as Grant had said, the fire was officially ruled an accident. He had already signed the paperwork and taken custody of the two bodies that were burned beyond recognition. Grant… for Stella, he was willing to trample all over the law. A surge of fury shot through me. I drove straight to Harrison Corp. Grant showed no surprise at my arrival. He calmly slid a credit card across his desk toward me. “Here. Compensation for you,” he said with a smirk. “You should really thank Stella. She has such a kind heart, she insisted on giving you ten thousand.” I stared at the card, utterly bewildered. Stella, kind-hearted? Impossible. Grant lifted his chin contemptuously. “Stella arranged an afterlife partnership for your parents.” “The intermediary paid her a hundred-thousand-dollar finder’s fee. It’s a joyous occasion, after all, and she thought you, as their daughter, should share in the good fortune. See how generous she is?” My voice trembled. “You sold their bodies?!” Stella smiled sweetly, picked up the card, and tried to press it into my clenched fist. “Sienna, on your parents’ special day… you should take this. Consider it the last thing they can give you.” I slapped the card out of her hand and onto her face, my voice a raw scream. “Stella, you soulless monster! Making money off the bones of the dead! Aren’t you afraid of being struck by lightning?” Employees began to gather, their whispers filling the air. “Why is the Design Director fighting with someone? That woman keeps hiding behind the CEO. Is she the other woman?” “I heard there was a fire at her house last night. Her parents died. The bodies she’s talking about… are they her parents’?” “Oh my god, is Mr. Harrison insane? Not only is he flaunting his mistress, but he let her sell his wife’s parents’ remains? That’s inhuman!” Hearing the escalating accusations, Stella’s face went from flushed to pale. Suddenly, she dropped to her knees with a thud, slapping her own face as she wailed. “Sienna, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have spent so much time with Grant just because I wanted to repay his kindness… I let you misunderstand our relationship…” “And I shouldn’t have brought candles to the house when the power was out. But I swear, I didn’t know your parents were… mentally unwell. I never thought they would burn themselves alive with a candle.” She looked up, her eyes swimming in tears, her voice growing more earnest. “As for the afterlife partnership… your mother told me about it herself, before she passed. She said she was forced into an arranged marriage with your father and never got over her first love.” “She couldn’t be with him in life, so I just wanted to grant her that happiness in death!” she cried. “And once she had found her partner, I couldn’t just leave your father all alone, could I? So I took the liberty of finding a match for him, too… I consulted a spiritualist. They are both perfect pairings!” Grant immediately rushed to help her up, his face grim as he turned on me. “Sienna, you are so ungrateful! It’s a fact that your mother was in love with someone else. Stella was trying to do a good thing, and you not only refuse to thank her, you attack her?” Stella’s cheeks were now red and swollen, making her look exceptionally pitiful. With Grant backing her up, the crowd’s opinion began to shift. “The director is being way too aggressive. The poor girl just sees Mr. Harrison as a brother, and she’s being accused of being a homewrecker!” “And her own mother was unfaithful, pining for another man. Miss Stella tries to honor her last wish and gets treated like this? That’s just cruel!” I was shaking with rage. Stella was smearing my mother’s name with disgusting lies. I lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and slammed her head against the wall. Seeing this, Grant kicked me hard, sending me sprawling to the floor. His voice was glacial. “You bitch. Who gave you permission to touch her?” “I have only ever seen Stella as a sister, nothing more. But you, with your narrow, jealous mind, have constantly harassed her. Now your own parents get themselves killed, and you try to pin the blame on her.” “I see I’ve been too lenient with you. If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll never learn.” He straightened his suit. “Security! Get her out of here. Tie her to the flagpole out front until she’s ready to reflect on what she’s done.” Just then, a familiar, anxious voice cut through the crowd.

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She threw me out of the car on the interstate, in the dead of night, all because I wouldn’t give the passenger seat to her assistant. “You want to act so tough, Ethan? Fine. Walk home. Or die out here for all I care!” Two weeks later, a local news report about a homicide finally jogged her memory. “It’s been two weeks,” she’d muttered, annoyed. “Is he still throwing a tantrum? Does he plan on living on the highway forever?” Her head of security, Marcus, had to deliver the news. “Ma’am… Mr. Hayes… he was killed.” “Impossible!” she’d snapped. “I was just angry! I left the security detail watching him from a distance! How could he possibly be dead?” Marcus hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “Ms. Blackwood, Liam Cole ordered the detail to stand down. He said it was on your authority.” He took a shaky breath. “And… there’s something else. The autopsy report is back. The anonymous heart donor who saved you all those years ago… it was Mr. Hayes. Not Liam Cole…” 1 The shredded remains of the autopsy report rained down on Marcus’s face. Victoria Blackwood, my wife, looked at him as if he were a traitor. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she hissed, her voice a blade of ice. “Conspiring with him to lie to me?” Sweat beaded on Marcus’s forehead. “Ms. Blackwood, I swear! This is what the investigation uncovered. I wouldn’t dare fake something like this!” Victoria pointed a trembling finger at the paper confetti on the floor. “Let me tell you something. Ethan can fake his own death for attention, he can throw any tantrum he wants, but he will not use Liam’s heart as a bargaining chip in his pathetic games.” Her voice was low, seething with a protective fury that was never, ever meant for me. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for Liam to live with that artificial heart? The slightest chill could kill him! Does Ethan Hayes have no humanity? To steal the credit for something another man nearly died to do?” Marcus flinched. My soul, a weightless observer, hovered in the air. I almost laughed. Even now, after all this, she still believed Liam Cole was the one who had saved her. Marcus was loyal to a fault. He would never lie to her. He had to tell her the truth, even if she wouldn’t hear it. He swallowed hard, his loyalty warring with his fear. “Ma’am, Mr. Hayes’s autopsy shows… his heart was also artificial.” “Is that so?” Victoria’s smile was pure venom. “Well, if they’re going to the trouble of faking a report that detailed, they might as well go all the way.” She straightened her suit jacket, her expression hardening into something cruel and final. “Let’s make the story real. Make sure he’s dead.” She turned and walked away, leaving Marcus standing in the ruins of her office and my life. 2 Driving home, Victoria’s manicured nails tapped an incessant, agitated rhythm on the leather steering wheel. When she stopped at a red light, she, a woman renowned for her unshakable composure, slammed her fist down on the horn. She kept replaying the words from the report in her mind. “Anonymous heart donor…” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. She lit a slim cigarette, leaving a perfect crimson stain on the filter, her face a mask of irritation. “Ethan, Ethan, Ethan,” she murmured to the empty car. “Your little games are getting more and more pathetic.” The car’s sound system, which she usually kept on a low classical station, had been switched to a news channel. 【…and in a major breakthrough, Olympia City Police have solved the string of recent highway murders.】 【The criminal gang’s final crime took place on the Evergreen Parkway, where their victims were a young man and a five-year-old girl.】 【Authorities say the man, whose name has not yet been released, used himself as bait to draw the attackers’ attention, buying precious time for the girl to be rescued.】 【Tonight, we pay our deepest respects to this selfless hero.】 Victoria froze. She reached out and silenced the radio. Exhaling a plume of smoke, she sighed. “Probably his sister, or his daughter…” A sad smile touched my spectral lips. No, Victoria. I didn’t know her. I just knew that it was better for one life to end than two. So I hid the little girl in a culvert beneath the highway, called 911, and led them away. I thought I could hold on until help arrived. But… I was bleeding too much. The artificial heart just couldn’t keep up. Victoria’s hand, the one holding the cigarette, paused mid-air. “The Evergreen Parkway…” She frowned. That was where she’d left me. Flicking the cigarette butt out the window, she gunned the engine as the light turned green, a cold sneer on her face. “Impossible. A man like him? We should be grateful he’s not the one out there hurting innocent people.” 3 A week passed. I didn’t come home. It was only after she threw a lavish birthday party for Liam Cole that Victoria seemed to remember I existed. “What, is he really going to live on the parkway forever?” she asked Marcus, more annoyed than concerned. “Tell him the game is over. I had plenty of security watching him. He can’t fool me with some fake autopsy report.” Marcus hesitated, then decided the truth was the only path forward. “Ms. Blackwood… Liam Cole told my men to withdraw that night. He said… it was your order.” “Oh?” Victoria’s laugh was sharp and dismissive. “Are you telling me Liam forged my command?” He swallowed hard. It seemed Victoria had conveniently forgotten. Her personal security team answered to only two people. Her, and one other person to whom she had granted the highest level of clearance. It wasn’t me, her husband. It was Liam Cole. “Impossible,” she said, her tone flat and final. “Only Ethan would stoop so low as to frame Liam with a lie like that. I gave Liam that authority precisely because I was afraid of what Ethan might do to him, out of jealousy. I knew he’d try to use his position as my husband to hurt him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Liam is not that kind of person. He would never do something so underhanded. Tell Ethan to stop trying to bribe my staff.” “Ms. Blackwood!” Marcus pleaded, his voice cracking. “I swear I haven’t taken any money from Mr. Hayes!” Victoria held up a hand, silencing him. “You’ve been with me a long time, Marcus. I’ll allow this mistake once, maybe twice. A third time will have consequences. Think carefully about your next move.” A cold sweat broke out across his brow. 4 The moment she was out of the office, Victoria called my phone. Of course, I couldn’t answer. After a dozen rings went to voicemail, she left a message. Her voice was strained, tight with forced patience. “You’ve been making a lot of trouble lately, Ethan. The passenger seat has a better view, and the open air is good for Liam’s health. I owe him my life; it’s my duty to take care of him. This is about gratitude, not an affair. Stop fixating on it. You’re a healthy man. Try to think of someone else for a change.” She paused, and just before hanging up, her voice softened almost imperceptibly. “Honey… you’ve been gone a little too long this time.” Putting the phone down, her gaze fell upon a black umbrella clutched by a mannequin in a store window. Her hand came to rest against the cool glass. It was like five years ago, all over again. She was in a red dress, heels clicking on the wet pavement as she hurried through the rain. I was walking the other way, holding a black umbrella, and as we passed, our eyes met. A spark. A moment. We both turned back to look. I didn’t know then that she was the woman who had received my heart. By the time I found out, Liam Cole was already by her side. But she must have remembered. She knew I loved black. And red. That day, my black umbrella had tilted just so, sheltering her head from the downpour. My birthday was in a week. And the mannequin… it had my build, my height. She was about to call the sales associate, to buy it, when her phone rang. It was Liam. “Victoria… I can’t breathe…” Her expression shifted instantly from wistful to panicked. “I’m on my way!” 5 In the sterile hospital room, Liam sipped the broth Victoria spoon-fed him. He managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. I never thought the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation would cook for anyone.” She brought another spoonful to his lips. “That depends on the man.” Even without a physical body, a phantom ache shot through my chest. Because I knew. That man wasn’t me. Liam’s gaze drifted to the long, elegantly wrapped umbrella leaning against the wall. “I hear you picked that out for Ethan. Are you sure it’s okay to give it to me?” Victoria paused for only a fraction of a second. “You said you liked it, too.” I had to smile at the tragedy of it all. He likes blue, Victoria. He only said he liked black after he heard you bought it for me. Don’t you see that? I closed my eyes. A soul can’t do anything. I could only pray that whatever force governed the universe would let me dissipate, let me fade away, so I wouldn’t have to watch my own wife tear me down, piece by piece. 6 The story of my heroism spread through Olympia City. The organizers of the memorial service invited the city’s most prominent philanthropist to attend: Victoria Blackwood. She accepted without a second thought. As the city’s leading corporate citizen, she even offered to cover all the expenses for the memorial. No budget. A fitting tribute for a true hero. On the day of the service, she stood in the solemn, flower-filled hall. When she saw the name on the main placard—【In Loving Memory of Mr. Ethan Hayes】—her expression faltered. “The same last name…” she murmured. Then, a bitter smile. “If only my Ethan had half the character of this Mr. Hayes, we wouldn’t be where we are today.” It was just about repaying a debt to Liam. Why did he have to make it such an issue? She just couldn’t understand. After paying her respects, the event organizer approached her, the primary benefactor. “Ms. Blackwood, someone has raised questions about the autopsy report, claiming it’s a fabrication. Should we… perform another one?” “Who’s questioning it?” Victoria’s brow furrowed. The organizer looked uncomfortable. “Well…” Victoria’s patience snapped. “This man’s face and body were mutilated by his attackers. The coroner did their best to make him whole again. Who in their right mind would want to subject him to that all over again, and for what reason?” The organizer wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. I sighed. The irony was suffocating. She had no idea. It was her own man, Marcus, who had requested the second autopsy, all because she refused to believe the first one. In the morgue, Victoria gave the final order. “Cremate him. Let him rest in peace.” “Would you like to see him one last time, Ms. Blackwood?” “No,” she said, a flicker of genuine empathy in her eyes. “No one would want to be remembered that way, stitched together and broken.” My body was pushed into the incinerator. After a final, respectful nod, Victoria walked out of the hall. “What’s trending with men these days?” she asked her new assistant. The assistant, startled, quickly recovered. “For Mr. Cole, it’s always high-end luxury. Patek Philippe, Louis Vuitton…” “I meant for Ethan.” The assistant blinked. “You’re buying a gift for Mr. Hayes?” “Yes,” Victoria sighed. “There’s been… a misunderstanding between us. This isn’t just for his birthday. It’s an apology.” She patted the assistant’s shoulder. “I’m leaving this to you. The budget is unlimited. Get it done.” “Yes, Ms. Blackwood!” Behind her, my ashes were being sealed in an urn. 7 The assistant tracked down an original, handwritten manuscript from an obscure but brilliant composer, Arthur Finch, at an old collector’s estate. I had always been fascinated by his work. But the score was badly damaged, almost illegible. “Ms. Blackwood, Mr. Hayes loves Finch’s compositions. We’ve had this professionally restored, but it’s still not perfect. Perhaps I should just commission a custom luxury item instead?” “No.” Victoria stared at the tattered pages. “Anything that can be bought with money is a cop-out. Leave it. I’ll restore it myself.” “Ma’am?!” The assistant’s eyes went wide. Victoria knew how. In the early days, when she loved me most, she had learned about antique restoration to share my passion. For five days, she didn’t leave the studio. When she finally emerged, the Arthur Finch manuscript hung on the wall, pristine, as if the ink had just dried. “When he sees this,” she whispered to herself, “he’ll come back.” Just then, her phone rang. It was Liam, his voice a ragged whisper. “Victoria… I think I’m dying…” 8 She found him by the riverbank, soaked and covered in blood. He was coughing up water and blood, his hand gripping her blazer with surprising strength. “It was Ethan…” he choked out. “He tried to kill me…” My spirit froze. After a harrowing trip to the ER, once Liam was stable, he told his story through tear-filled eyes. “I knew Ethan was upset with you because of me. His birthday is coming up, and I just wanted to find him, convince him to come home and clear the air. But when I finally tracked him down… he was by the river… with another woman.” He choked on a sob. Victoria gripped his shoulders. “What happened?” Liam shook his head violently. “I can’t say… they weren’t wearing anything…” Victoria’s pupils constricted. “Ethan said… if I came back, I’d tell you everything. He said his meal ticket would be gone… I tried to run, but they pushed me into the river. If the tide hadn’t washed me ashore… I would have never seen you again, Victoria…” He clung to her, sobbing. I watched her face, my non-existent heart pounding. Victoria… you know me. Don’t you? You know I’m not that person. He’s lying! He got into trouble with his own creditors! Victoria gently pushed Liam back onto the pillow, her touch surprisingly steady. She wiped a tear from his cheek. “Get some rest.” Then she turned, walked out, and drove home. In the studio, she stood before the restored Finch manuscript. She dialed my number. Ten times. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred unanswered calls. Her eyes began to burn. The fingers on her right hand, raw and scarred from the chemicals and tools she’d used for the restoration, throbbed with a dull pain. RIIIIIP! She tore the manuscript from the wall. “ETHAN HAYES, YOU BASTARD!” The paper disintegrated in her hands. The violent motion tore open the healing cuts on her fingers, and droplets of blood spattered across the ruined notes. Panting, she threw open the studio door. Her staff, waiting outside, stared at her in alarm. Her face was flecked with her own blood. “Get the word out,” she commanded, her voice ragged. “I’m marrying Liam Cole. Announce it to the entire city. Spare no expense.” On the last four words, her grip was so tight on the doorframe, it seemed the wood itself might splinter.

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Six years after I died, I came back to the living world to collect a debt. Turns out, I racked up a massive bill in the afterlife. I’m an orphan, no parents to mooch off, so I pinned all my hopes on my best friend. But the moment I stepped into her house, glowing text started floating across my vision like a glitchy livestream chat: [ Help! The tragic heroine is spiraling again! She just smashed all the designer bags the male lead bought her. ] [ Her husband cheated, her son hates her… she’s been suicidal for a while now. ] [ Nobody dares to go in. They’re scared they’ll push her over the edge… Wait!? Who just took the door off its hinges?! And moved it?! And just walked in like she owns the place?! ] That would be me. I watched my best friend, Chloe, getting ready to slit her wrists. I grabbed her arm, snatched the knife away, and screamed with excitement: “Bestie! You know I hate snakes! But that Bvlgari Serpenti bracelet on your wrist? Exception made.” “Also, don’t die yet. I owe a ton of money in Hell and I need you to pay it off.” Hearing this, Chloe stopped crying. She forgot about killing herself. Instead, she started chasing me with the knife. “You brat! You didn’t visit me once when you were dead, but the moment you need money, I’m your first stop?!” The floating chat was confused: [ What kind of home invasion friendship is this…? ] 1 When I burst into the master bedroom of Chloe’s luxurious mansion, she was holding a fruit knife to her wrist. The maids were clustered outside, terrified to intervene. Until I grabbed her wrist and gave her a thumbs up. “Wow, Chloe. Flexing your diamond snake bracelet without me? Rude.” Chloe looked bewildered. The maids’ jaws dropped. The chat exploded with question marks: [ ??? ] [ Sis, are you seeing what I’m seeing? The heroine is literally committing suicide and you’re admiring her jewelry… ] [ She’s built different. ] Chloe stared at me with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. The despair in her gaze was replaced by pure shock. In my memory, she was bright and beautiful, always wearing a high ponytail, resilient and full of hope. She used to say: “Tay, you have to be my maid of honor when I marry Julian.” But now, looking at her pale face, her dull eyes, her messy hair, and crumpled pajamas… it felt like a lifetime ago. Chloe was so thin she looked like a skeleton. One touch and she might shatter. I’d never seen her this broken. A sharp pain pricked my heart. Six years. When I finally appeared before her again, she looked ready to pass out. She stared at me, buffering. I took the opportunity to snatch the fruit knife from her hand and leaned in to admire the blindingly sparkly bracelet under the light. “Bestie, you know I’m terrified of snakes. But Bvlgari? That’s not a snake, that’s art.” I looked at my own bare wrist and felt a pang of envy. Shamelessly, I said: “You selfish brat! Share the wealth. Take off that diamond encrusted thing and let me wear it for a bit.” The maids outside were staring like I was an alien. One of them couldn’t take it anymore and spoke up: “Who brought you in here? Have you no manners? You think you can just ask for a million-dollar bracelet and get it?” But the next second, Chloe stopped crying. She wiped her tears messily, took off the bracelet right there, and slid it onto my wrist. Her voice was hoarse, choked with sobs: “If you told me you liked it earlier, I would have bought you another one.” The maids looked at each other, eyes popping out of their heads. She actually gave it to her? 2 After the maids dispersed, I looked at the empty doorway. I dragged the door I’d removed back into place, leaning it precariously against the frame to block the view. Ignoring the chaos, I sneakily pulled a crumpled IOU from my pocket and handed it to Chloe with a sycophantic grin. “Guess what goodie I brought back from the Underworld for you?” Chloe was still a bit down, but at least she wasn’t trying to off herself anymore. But after unfolding my astronomical debt note, she transformed back into the crazy woman I knew from high school. No more staring blankly at the ceiling, no more pondering the meaning of life. She picked up the fruit knife I’d thrown away and started chasing me. Her voice wasn’t weak anymore. Her shout scared the birds out of the garden trees. The maids rushed back, only to see this: Chloe chasing me around the room with a knife. “Taylor! You dead brat! You didn’t visit me in a dream once, but now you show up for money?!” “Do I owe you from a past life?! I’m gonna kill you, let’s just die together!” I raised my hands in surrender, running for my life. “Chloe! Chloe! Don’t be like this! Let me explain…” The butler, arriving late and missing everything, quietly pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hello, sir. You might not believe this, but the Madam, who was too weak to walk earlier, is currently chasing someone with a knife.” 3 Chloe refused to pay my debt directly. She ruthlessly made me work it off as a maid in her villa. One thousand dollars an hour. I humbly started my career as a domestic servant. Because she was emotionally unstable, she often threw things and refused to eat. So, when the chef’s food was sent back to the kitchen again, everyone looked defeated. The head chef even started questioning his life choices. I glanced at the floating text: [ The heroine is basically anorexic. So pitiful. ] [ Ever since her parents went bankrupt and jumped off a building a few years ago, she’s been all alone. Husband doesn’t love her, son doesn’t love her. I would have given up too. ] [ It’s a tragic novel, what do you expect? Later, the male lead will force her to donate a kidney to the female villain. She almost dies on the table, and THEN he starts his redemption arc! Can’t wait! ] I walked into the kitchen and started chopping vegetables like I was chopping up a scumbag. I made a bowl of noodles and excitedly brought it to Chloe. Chloe had no appetite. She turned her head away, refusing to eat even when I tried to force her. She said bluntly: “I want to vomit when I see food. I can’t eat.” I raised an eyebrow at her dramatic flair. I picked up a piece of beef with chopsticks and switched to a baby voice: “Here comes the airplane~” “Say ahhh~” Chloe’s mouth opened wider than my fist. … Heh. Women. The chat was losing it: [ Is Taylor a new character? I’m dying laughing. She knows exactly how to handle the heroine. ] [ Has anyone noticed the heroine is gaining weight? She looks so much healthier now. Her beauty is coming back! ] [ Who is this Taylor? She keeps calling the heroine ‘bestie’, but she wasn’t in the story before? ] … 4 These days, with me by her side, Chloe rarely lost control. During my time in the Underworld, I learned everything about her last ten years. I knew about the nightmares of her parents jumping. I knew about her husband, Julian, keeping a mistress who came to the house to humiliate her. I knew Julian turned a blind eye, forcing her to apologize to the mistress on her knees. She had lost herself, pushed around like a puppet with no strings. … Today, I pestered Chloe to take a walk in the front garden. The chat sighed: [ Damn, bestie power is real. If the husband asked, he would have gotten a pillow to the face. ] [ Wait, I remember this plot point. This is when the grandparents bring back her demon spawn son! ] [ Taylor, don’t let Liam see her! He hates his mom. He’s her biological son but refuses to acknowledge her. ] … Before the text could finish, two elegantly dressed elderly people walked into the yard, holding a child’s hand. Chloe and I were currently fighting for space on a swing bench. Chloe smiled at me. But for some reason, this scene triggered her son, Liam. Liam furiously threw his limited edition model car on the ground, charged at us, and screamed: “Get lost! Why are you sitting on my swing!” He started shoving Chloe’s legs with all his might. Chloe’s smile froze. She grabbed my hand insecurely but looked at Liam: “Liam, don’t be like this…” The chat was wailing: [ Sob… she carried him for ten months, how can she not love him? She really wants to be close to her son! ] [ Ungrateful wolf, just like his dad! ] [ Seriously, can someone discipline this brat? He has no manners. I want to jump into the book and spank him! ] I raised an eyebrow at this hands-on-hips, angry little meatball. Looks just like his dad. Liam huffed arrogantly, sure that Chloe wouldn’t do anything to him. He looked like he owned the place. The next second, I sneered, grabbed him by the ear, yanked him onto my lap, and spanked his butt with full force. Smack! Smack! In the distance, his grandparents, who had looked indifferent, suddenly reacted. They hobbled over with their canes as fast as they could. “Who is this crazy woman?! How dare you hit my grandson! Put him down! Put him down!” Liam howled, crying harder: “Ahhh! Grandpa, Grandma, my butt hurts! She’s hitting me! Save me woo woo woo…” I didn’t stop. I hit him harder. Hearing him cry made me excited: “You brat! If your mom won’t teach you a lesson, your godmother will!” When I got tired, the grandparents snatched Liam from my arms and started wailing: “Oh my god! Are the servants deaf?! Security? Where is security?!” Three of them, hugging and crying. The chat exploded: [ Holy sht holy sht holy sht! Sis, you are my hero! You really did it!* ] [ Wait guys, why does the heroine look like she’s trying not to laugh? She looks… happy? ] [ Omg, she IS laughing! She’s not even hiding it! She’s laughing so loud! I feel like she’s about to applaud! Hahaha! ] The servants rushed over with spatulas and brooms, but when they saw the old couple pointing at me, they froze. Liam wiped his tears, face red, stomping his feet. He rushed at me to hit me. His grandparents joined in, grabbing my clothes. Chloe saw the situation going south and tried to block them with her arms. The servants rushed to break it up. Chaos. Liam wound up a chubby fist, but before he could hit me, I sat on the ground and started wailing: “Oh my god! Is there no justice?! Help! Help! Liam is hitting people! None of the kids in the Hope Class will play with him! Oh my god~” Liam blinked his big eyes, confused. Then he waved his hands frantically, trying to explain: “Liar! You bad woman! I didn’t touch you! …I… I didn’t!” Seeing me pushed down, Chloe, who was always composed, suddenly hardened her face. She shoved the people around her away. No one expected the gentle, patient mother to grab Liam by the collar, drag him into her arms, and spank him just as hard as I did. Liam started howling again. His grandparents couldn’t believe their eyes. They thought Chloe had gone insane: “Chloe Lu! You little bitch! You’ve lost your mind! I’m telling Julian! Let’s see if he tolerates this rebellion!” The servants tried to intervene: “Madam, please let the young master go! The master will be angry! Madam…!” Chloe ignored them. Her voice was ice cold: “Liam! What did Mommy tell you?! Can you hit people?! “What do you say now?!” Liam was stunned by the beating. He cried and begged: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I was wrong… I was wrong! Stop hitting me! Woo woo woo…” The servants stopped intervening. The grandparents stopped wailing. Everyone watched Chloe discipline her child live. “Who are you sorry to?! Speak!” I leaned in and whispered in Liam’s ear: “It’s Godmother.” Liam struggled violently. Seeing my smug face, he turned red, snot and tears flying: “I don’t want to call this bad woman Godmother! I don’t want to woo woo woo…” Chloe raised her hand again. Liam surrendered. He stopped crying and forced a smile: “Sorry Godmother, I was wrong.” I nodded with satisfaction. The chat was a mess, firing off confetti for me: [ Damn! Did I see that right? The brat never listened to her before! He always hurt her! She gave up on him! Taylor used a little trick and got the heroine back in the game! ] [ I’ve never seen the heroine this angry! Even when the husband paraded the mistress in front of her, she did nothing. Taylor gets pushed gently and she snaps… ] [ So satisfying! Following Taylor is like watching a revenge drama! I will follow Sister Tay forever! ] [ Heroine: You touch my bestie, I destroy your world (and beat my son). ] Liam’s grandparents were so angry they almost fainted. They called Julian immediately: “Come back quick! Your wife is leading a rebellion!”

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Seven years after my divorce from Ethan. We ran into each other in a flower shop. He was there to buy flowers for his pregnant wife. I was just hiding from the rain. After a moment of charged silence, we managed to say hello. Ethan asked, politely, how I’d been these past few years. I answered, just as politely, that everything was fine. As we were about to part, he said something out of the blue. “You seem different, Leah.” I just smiled, offering no reply. The truth is, nothing about me had changed. I had just stopped loving him. 1. A damp, cold wind snaked through the gap in the door, and for a long moment, the only sound in the small shop was the relentless drumming of rain against the windowpanes. The awkward quiet was finally broken when the florist emerged from the back, cradling a bouquet of irises. “Mr. Vance, you and your wife are so sweet,” she said, beaming. “Coming all the way out in this weather to buy her flowers.” Ethan took the bouquet, his gaze flickering instinctively toward me. He had a habit of over-explaining. “Nora’s been a little emotional during the pregnancy,” he murmured. “The flowers seem to help…” I nodded and offered a few bland compliments. Seeing the rain outside begin to let up, I picked up my bag, ready to leave. As I reached the door, Ethan’s hand suddenly shot out and closed around my wrist. “Where do you live? Let me give you a ride.” “That’s not necessary.” I took a half-step back, creating a careful distance between us. My voice was perfectly steady. “I wouldn’t want your wife to get the wrong idea.” As I turned to walk away, I thought I heard him say something else. The wind was too loud; the words were lost. The only casualty of the encounter was the breakfast pastry in my bag, now soaked through with rain. A shame. I tossed the ruined croissant into a nearby trash can without a second thought. A gust of wind billowed the sleeve of my coat, exposing the faint, silvery scars that lined my wrist—souvenirs from a past life. I paused, the thought striking me with a strange lack of emotion. This was the seventh year since my divorce from Ethan. And the third year since I had truly, finally, let him go. There was no pang of sadness, none of the hysteria that had defined our separation. Looking at him had been like looking at a complete stranger. The rain had stopped. The sky was beginning to clear. I pulled my sleeve down and headed for the bakery. Stella, the young woman who helps me out, greeted me with a wide grin. “Leah, you’re here! I found a box when I was cleaning out the storage closet.” She pointed to a dusty cardboard carton in the corner. “Should I keep it, or toss it with the rest of this junk? I need to make room for the new dough sheeter.” I wiped the layer of dust from the lid. And there it was, in elegant, looping script: Ethan’s handwriting. For Leah. Stella’s interest was immediately piqued. “Ooh, who’s this from?” she teased. “Fancy packaging. Somebody was trying to impress you.” She eagerly scanned the box for a signature. When her eyes landed on the familiar name, she froze. Her voice dropped to a stuttering whisper. “Ethan Vance?” She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “Wait, the Ethan Vance? The legendary genius, the astrophysicist from MIT?” Her voice climbed with each question. “The one who discovered that new asteroid and was in all the magazines? That handsome-as-hell Ethan Vance?!” Stella’s gaze was now filled with a kind of bewildered reverence. “Leah, who are you?” I lifted the lid of the box. My voice was calm, a simple statement of fact. “I’m Ethan Vance’s ex-wife.” The paranoid, unhinged ex-wife. The one who had a stint in a psychiatric hospital. The one he considered the greatest shame of his life. 2. Under Stella’s relentless questioning, I finally sat down and told her the story of Ethan and me. When I first met Ethan Vance, he wasn’t some celebrated boy genius. He was just the problem child from down the street, the weird, quiet kid everyone in the neighborhood whispered about. No friends, no family to speak of. His parents were in the middle of a nasty divorce and treated him like a piece of luggage they were both trying to lose. The winters in Boston are bone-deep cold. I found him one evening huddled in the stairwell of our apartment building, shivering in a threadbare sweatshirt. He looked so lost. I couldn’t just leave him there, so I brought him home. One day, while we were all playing a board game, my father noticed something incredible about the way Ethan’s mind worked with numbers. It was a flash of lightning. From that day on, everything changed. My dad saw a spark in him that no one else had, and he fanned it into a flame. At ten, Ethan won the National Math Olympiad. At fourteen, he got early admission to MIT. By sixteen, a paper he published was making waves across the globe, and awards started piling up. Suddenly, the same parents who couldn’t get rid of him fast enough were fighting tooth and nail for custody. But Ethan did something none of them expected. He knelt before my father and bowed his head, a gesture so formal and final it silenced the room. “I know who was good to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I know who really loves me. From now on, you and Mom are my real parents.” He looked at me. “I’ll take care of you both. I’ll always take care of Leah.” From that day forward, Ethan’s trajectory was a straight line pointing up, but he never tried to leave me behind. When MIT accepted him, he insisted they find a place for me, lobbying for them to lower their admission standards. When he was offered a teaching position after his doctorate, he demanded they create an administrative role for me in his department. I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to keep up. But Ethan would look at me with that unwavering intensity. “When I was eight, my parents left me in that stairwell. I sat there all night, from dusk till dawn. You were the one who found me, Leah. You brought me home. I swore to myself in that moment that I would never, ever leave you. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. No matter how high I fly, I will never let you go.” That was Ethan. Stubborn to his core. Once he fixed on something, he never let go. It was true for his research projects. It was true when he pursued me. And, it turned out, it was true when he fell for someone else. “He cheated?” Stella’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “But you guys were childhood sweethearts. You grew up together. After all that, he cheated?” She leaned forward. “Who was she? Some rich heiress? A supermodel? One of those scheming, femme fatale types you see in the movies?” None of the above. Ethan’s affair was with a dark and wiry, entirely unremarkable girl who sold flowers from a cart at the farmer’s market. By the time he was twenty-seven, Ethan had achieved more professionally than most people do in a lifetime. He was no longer chasing accolades or money. He started pouring his energy into personal hobbies. He had no interest in stocks or golf or any of the usual pastimes. Instead, he developed a sudden, all-consuming passion for botany. Exotic imports, cheap annuals, common daisies, rare orchids—Ethan bought them all, filling a small greenhouse he’d built behind our house. His favorite, he always said, was the iris. The same type I had given him as a seedling for his birthday years ago. “This is the plant that started it all,” he told me once, his eyes gleaming. “To think that such an unremarkable seed, with the right human intervention, can be cultivated into something so magnificent. The process… it’s fascinating.” He said he loved flowers. But what he loved more was the process of making them bloom. In that small, glass-walled world, he was God. He decided what flourished and what withered. Life and death were entirely up to him. I never really understood what he meant. A flower was a flower. It bloomed when it bloomed. Why try to control it so much? But Nora, the flower girl who was helping him unload a shipment of soil that day, looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. “Professor Vance is right,” she said, her voice breathy with awe. “I feel the same way. A flower’s beauty depends entirely on the gardener’s care. Look how well this iris grew. That was all my work.” And just like that, on a crisp autumn day surrounded by blooming irises, they connected. Because of the flowers. And because of me. 3. After that, Ethan started ordering flowers from Nora all the time. Roses, lilies, lilacs, peonies. The house we lived in began to look less like a home and more like a botanical garden. And as the flowers accumulated, so did the time they spent together. Then one day, Ethan came to me with a proposal. He wanted to sponsor Nora’s education. “She’s just a teenager, Leah. She’s brilliant and hardworking. It’s a tragedy to let that kind of potential go to waste.” Nora stood beside him, nervously picking at the thick calluses on her hands. A small, anxious smile played on her chapped lips. “I’ll study hard, I promise,” she said, her eyes fixed on me. “My grades were good. I only had to drop out of school because my mom was in a car accident and I had to support my family. If you just give me a chance, I swear I won’t let you down.” Her young face was etched with a weariness that didn’t belong on someone her age. Looking into her earnest eyes, I was suddenly reminded of an eight-year-old boy, huddled and helpless in a cold stairwell. My heart softened. For a long time, I treated Nora like a younger sister. I bought her new clothes, taught her about skincare, and helped her navigate the social cues she’d never had a chance to learn. She called me her big sister, swore I was the kindest person she’d ever met, and promised that one day, she would repay my kindness. And she didn’t disappoint me. She was accepted into the very university where Ethan and I both worked. The night she received her acceptance letter, she climbed into Ethan’s bed. I had left work early that day, planning to cook a special dinner to celebrate her achievement. I walked into our home to find them tangled together in our bedroom, their clothes in a heap on the floor. In that single, shattering moment, I lost my mind. I threw the celebratory cake at them, smearing frosting across their bare skin. I tore through the house like a hurricane, smashing every pot and vase, shredding every petal and leaf until our home was a graveyard of flowers. Ethan shielded Nora with his body, his eyes cold as he watched my rampage. “That’s enough, Leah. Close the door on your way out.” His voice was flat. “You may not have any shame, but Nora does.” Between me and Nora, his choice was clear and instantaneous. He had chosen the other woman. I couldn’t breathe. I demanded he give me an explanation. He just frowned. “You are still my wife, Leah. As long as you don’t make trouble, Nora will never threaten your position.” Nora, for her part, scrambled to her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face. “Sister, I know I’ve wronged you, but Ethan and I are in love! We’re soulmates. We understand each other in a way no one else can. Don’t worry, I’ll never forget your kindness. I don’t need a title, I won’t fight you for anything. Just please, let me stay by his side!” I was only in my twenties. I was proud, and I had never known a hurt like this. I sent a formal complaint to the university, an email detailing their unethical and inappropriate relationship. I wanted to expose them. But reality delivered a swift, brutal lesson. The university was never going to fire a star like Ethan Vance. Instead, to appease him, they put me on disciplinary probation. Ethan then went a step further, releasing a public statement to the faculty, asking his colleagues to look out for Nora. “She is my student,” he wrote. “She is brilliant, diligent, and hardworking. I hope you will all, for my sake, give her the support she deserves. She has overcome immense hardship to get here. She may not have the most polished academic record, but in my eyes, she is the finest student I have ever had the privilege of teaching. She is my greatest pride.” He even admitted to pulling strings to get her into the university, acknowledging it was against the rules. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to ensure Nora had a brilliant future. And me? What was I? A joke? A footnote? I hid at home, crying myself to sleep every night, haunted by the smirking, whispering faces of colleagues and strangers. Ethan continued to tend to his irises, unbothered. “Don’t you get it yet, Leah?” he said to me one evening, not even looking up from his pruning. “Your job, your reputation, your entire status—it all comes from me. Without me, you are nothing. I told you Nora wouldn’t affect your position. Just be reasonable. Can’t we just live our lives in peace?” No. We couldn’t. I couldn’t bear it, living with a husband whose heart and mind were constantly with another woman. I started fighting back. I became hysterical, vindictive. I launched a scorched-earth campaign against them. When Ethan gave a major lecture, I swapped his presentation slides with intimate photos of him and Nora. When they gave a joint interview for a university publication, I stormed the room and screamed the truth about their affair. I wrote countless letters. I posted anonymous videos. All I got for my efforts was a diagnosis. Ethan was too smart. He provoked me into these manic episodes, then calmly recorded my breakdowns and presented them as evidence of my instability. His intellect, his status, his intimate knowledge of my every weakness—he used it all to crush me. In the end, I was the one who lost everything. I was fired from my job. My graduate degree was revoked. And then, Ethan Vance, my husband, had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. My voice was steady as I told this to Stella, but her eyes were red. She sniffled, wiping at tears. “What happened then?” Then, in the sterile quiet of the hospital, I found out I was nearly five months pregnant. And Ethan came to take me home. 4. The existence of the child forced Ethan into a truce. He checked me out of the hospital, took my hand, and spoke in that calm, rational voice I had come to hate. “Leah, I know I made a mistake. But you can’t keep acting like this. Your parents… they’re worried sick. People are gossiping about them everywhere they go. You’re not a child anymore. Can’t you stop being so selfish?” He placed my hand on my still-flat stomach. “Think about the baby. Think about your parents.” A tear slid down my cheek and landed on my knuckles. This time, I was the one who gave in. The fight had gone out of me. My spirit was broken. I spent my days like a ghost, wandering through that house filled with another woman’s flowers, staring into space. Ethan’s life became a neatly organized schedule. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were for me. He would come home, read to my growing belly, and talk about prenatal education. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays were for Nora. With her, he explored the sweet, dizzying passion of new love. He, a man with a chronic stomach condition, would accompany Nora to every trendy, new restaurant she wanted to try—spicy food, greasy food, bubble tea, ice cream. Whatever she liked, he ate without complaint. This was the man who once believed wasting ten minutes was a cardinal sin, now sitting patiently through Nora’s favorite vapid romantic comedies. This was the man who valued his career above all else, now engaging in childish antics to make her laugh. He put her name on one of his academic papers—in a completely different field—to boost her credentials. He blew off important seminars and played pranks on his colleagues, all to amuse her. He ground my dignity into the dust. And with it, he trampled the rules and ethics of the world he supposedly revered. The final, explosive moment came with the proposal. That was the year Ethan discovered a new asteroid, a feat that propelled him from academic stardom to mainstream fame. He was featured in international magazines, his brilliant mind and handsome face suddenly everywhere. And at this pinnacle of his life, he chose to share the glory with Nora. He named the asteroid Nora’s Horizon. Beneath the horizon, Ethan Vance and Nora promised to be together forever. On the night he officially received the award, he held a private ceremony for her at the city’s planetarium. Beneath the projected image of the asteroid that bore her name, he staged a wedding. When I saw Nora, radiant in a white gown, walking toward him… when I saw them exchange vows under that canopy of artificial stars, something inside me finally, irrevocably, snapped. We never had a wedding. I had begged him for one, but he had always dismissed it. “Leah, you know me. I hate all that superficial pomp and circumstance,” he’d said. “It’s a waste of time and energy that could be better spent on my work.” Because I loved him, I accepted it. And because I loved him, I had lost everything. My suppressed rage erupted. I stormed into the ceremony in front of all their guests, ripped the veil from Nora’s head, and slapped her hard across the face, twice. Ethan’s reaction was swift. He threw a glass of ice water in my face. His voice was arctic. “You’ve crossed a line, Leah.” He told me he wanted a divorce. He was leaving with Nora. I refused. I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t let him go. “If you walk out that door tonight,” I sobbed, climbing onto the railing of the planetarium’s observation deck, “I’ll jump, and I’ll take this baby with me.” Ethan didn’t leave. He pushed me. Maybe he only meant to scare me. To call my bluff. But the result was the same. I lost the child I had wanted so desperately. And I found myself back in the psychiatric hospital. This time, the diagnosis was severe depression.

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My wife was heading back to her hometown to see family, and I realized she’d forgotten the specialty teas I’d bought for her mother. I rushed over to bring them to her, only to see her stepping out of a car in a full-length wedding gown. Waiting for her, beaming, was Liam, the guy she’d grown up with. They took each other’s hands, smiling into each other’s eyes like a pair of blissful newlyweds. It wasn’t until she spotted me standing a dozen yards away that Olivia finally, frantically, dropped his hand. “His mother is critically ill,” she explained, her voice tight. “Her only wish was to see him get married. I’m just doing a good deed, Ethan.” I managed a faint smile. I walked over and gently guided her back toward Liam, then joined the small crowd that was starting to form, clapping along with them. “So, when’s the baby due?” I called out, my voice booming unnaturally. “I want to make sure I get a gift!” 1 My enthusiastic cheer seemed to break the tension, and the small gathering of onlookers laughed and grew larger. Liam ushered the cheering guests into a nearby house before finally walking back to me. “Don’t be angry, Ethan,” he said, his expression a performance of sincerity. “Olivia and I are just putting on a show.” “If you’re really this uncomfortable with it, I can go explain it to everyone right now,” he offered. I nodded, gesturing for him to go ahead and clear things up. But Liam just stood there, frozen. Olivia shoved him behind her, glaring at me. “It’s just a favor, that’s all. Do you have any compassion, Ethan? Are you ever going to stop being so damn jealous?” I smiled again, a wider, emptier smile this time. “Well then, congratulations to the happy couple. I wish you a long and happy marriage.” Olivia’s face turned pale. She grabbed my arm and dragged me into a corner, away from the others. “Ethan, what the hell is your problem?” I didn’t say anything. Yesterday was my birthday. I had planned a whole evening for the two of us, a quiet celebration. But she had called me in a panic, telling me her mother had had a medical emergency and she had to go home immediately. I’d offered to take time off work to go with her, but she refused, saying she didn’t want me to jeopardize my job. And what was the result? The “mom” she was so worried about was Liam’s mother. While I was sick with worry for her, she was here, playing bride with her childhood best friend. Looking at the wedding dress she was wearing, how perfectly it fit, I realized this wasn’t a spontaneous act of kindness. This wedding must have been planned for a long, long time. A bitter, acidic feeling began to spread through my chest. She, however, thought I was just throwing a tantrum. “I already told you, I’m just helping Liam out. You don’t have to be so petty.” I shook my head. “You’ve got it all wrong.” “After the reception’s over, the three of us should go down to the courthouse together,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “We’ll get our divorce certificate, you two can get your marriage license. It’ll save everyone a lot of time and effort.” The word “divorce” made her freeze, her mouth falling slightly open. Just then, Liam walked over, supporting a frail-looking older woman by the arm. “Olivia, honey, Mom was worried when you didn’t come back inside. She wanted to see you.” The woman, who I assumed was Liam’s mother, was stooped over, coughing into her fist. She looked up at Olivia with a gaze full of adoration. “You’re such a good girl, Olivia. Liam, you better treat her right from now on. Oh,” she said, her eyes landing on me. “Is this a friend of yours?” As Liam’s mother looked me over with curiosity, Olivia rushed to explain. “He’s nobody, Mom. Just a stranger who stopped to ask for directions. It’s windy out here, you should go back inside before you catch a chill.” I heard the easy, familiar way she called the woman “Mom,” and a humorless laugh escaped my lips. I turned and started walking away. Olivia looked like she was about to follow me. But then Liam’s voice cut through the air. “It’s almost time for the ceremony to start. Let’s get inside, all our friends and family are waiting.” A moment later, the sound of cheering and car horns erupted behind me. Olivia didn’t follow. Of course she didn’t. No matter the situation, her choice was never going to be me. 2 After leaving Olivia’s hometown, I drove straight to my mom’s place. Olivia never liked the idea of living with my mother, so right after we got married, my mom volunteered to move back to the quiet town where she grew up. I’d bought her a nice little townhouse in the best development in the area, thinking that after all her years of hard work, it was time for her to relax and enjoy her life. Olivia had thrown a fit about the expense, giving me the silent treatment for three solid months. The only thing that ended the cold war was my mom offering to put the townhouse in both of our names, mine and Olivia’s. Now, as I opened her front door, the sight that greeted me made my heart clench. My mother was sitting at her small kitchen table, eating canned soup and saltine crackers. “Mom,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been sending you money every month. Why are you eating this stuff? It has no nutritional value.” She hadn’t expected me, and her face lit up with pure joy. “Ethan! What a surprise! Why are you here? Where’s Olivia?” I looked at the gray streaks in her hair, the lines around her eyes, and a wave of guilt washed over me. For years, I’d been so focused on making money, on pleasing Olivia, that I had completely neglected the woman who raised me. I made a decision right then and there: as soon as the divorce was final, I was moving my mom in with me so I could take care of her. “I haven’t eaten yet either, Mom,” I said, forcing a smile. “Let me take you out for a nice lunch.” She immediately waved her hands in protest. “Oh, no, that’s such a waste of money. You just wait here, I’ll cook something for you.” She bustled toward the kitchen. But when she opened the refrigerator, there was nothing inside but a few condiments and some wilted vegetables. “Mom, we’re going out,” I said, my voice firm. This time, I didn’t give her a chance to argue. I just took her by the arm and led her out the door. After a nice meal, I took her to the supermarket and we stocked her kitchen with fresh groceries. But as we walked up to her front door, we saw it was standing wide open. My mom, thinking they’d been robbed, hurried inside to see what was going on. A moment later, Olivia’s voice, sharp and imperious, echoed from inside the house. “Where have you been, wandering around outside? I have family coming over. You’ll need to pack a bag and find somewhere else to stay for a few days.” A surge of hot anger rose in my throat, and I stormed in after my mother. “Olivia,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Who are you telling to move out?” She jumped when she saw me, clearly startled. “Ethan! What are you doing here?” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “This is my mother’s house. Where else would I be?” She pursed her lips, completely unfazed. “Liam needs to borrow the house for a few days, and I already told him it was fine. Since you’re here, you can just take your mom and get a hotel for the weekend.” She said it with such casual entitlement, as if it were the most reasonable request in the world. In her mind, this was her house, and she was the one in charge. Liam, who had been standing off to the side, quickly chimed in. “Hey, Ethan. We just wanted to borrow the place for a bit, that’s all.” “If you’re really not okay with it,” he added with a smug little smile, “I can even pay you rent.” I shot him a look of pure disgust. Before I could even respond, Olivia scoffed. “Why would we give him money? You work hard for your money, Liam. Besides, this house is way too big for one old woman. It’s a waste. It’s better if your relatives get to enjoy it.” “And I’m a legal owner of this property,” she declared, puffing out her chest slightly. “He has no right to kick you out.” Her words sent a fresh wave of fury through me. But before I could unleash the tirade building inside me, the front door burst open again, and the house was filled with the loud, chaotic sounds of a crowd of people arriving. 3 Liam’s mother, Mrs. Davison, swept into the room, leading a boisterous group of people behind her. Her face was flushed with excitement, and she looked nothing like the frail, sick woman from the day before. “This is the beautiful home my daughter-in-law bought for me!” she announced to the crowd, her voice dripping with pride. “Isn’t it magnificent? My son is so clever, finding a wonderful wife like Olivia.” “You all just make yourselves at home for the wedding festivities,” she continued. “I’ve taken care of everything.” Her victory tour came to a halt when she noticed my mother, standing awkwardly by the doorway. Mrs. Davison’s brow furrowed, and her expression soured into one of undisguised contempt. “And who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing in my house?” She turned her head, shouting toward the front door. “What is wrong with the security in this neighborhood? They’re letting beggars just wander in off the street!” Her eyes snapped back to my mother. “Oh, I see. You must be the maid my daughter-in-law hired.” “Well, don’t just stand there gawking! Can’t you see we have guests? Go and make some tea, or I’ll have you fired.” My mother, completely bewildered by the situation, looked to me for an explanation. Before she could even speak, Mrs. Davison lunged forward and slapped her, hard, across the face. “Are you deaf? Did you not hear me talking to you?” she shrieked. “Look at you, dressed in rags. You should be grateful we’re giving you a job. How dare you ignore an order from the owner of the house!” “Now go make that tea, or I’ll fire you!” She had put all of her strength into the blow. My mother’s right cheek immediately turned a blotchy, angry red. “Mom!” I rushed to her side, steadying her as she stumbled back. Then, I scanned the room, my eyes landing on Mrs. Davison and the pack of relatives standing behind her. My voice was a low growl. “I’m giving you one minute to get out of this house,” I seethed. “If you’re not gone by then, don’t blame me for calling the police.” Mrs. Davison showed no fear. She just planted her hands on her hips and laughed. “And who do you think you are, giving me orders?” she sneered. “This house was a gift to me from my daughter-in-law. If the police come, the only ones they’ll be arresting are you two for trespassing.” My chest heaved with rage. I turned my furious gaze on Olivia. “So,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “Is there anything you’d like to say?” Olivia’s face was a mask of discomfort. She walked over to me, and for a split second, I thought she was finally going to come to her senses. Instead, she shoved my arm. “Shut up,” she hissed. “What’s the maid’s son yelling about?” “You’re both fired,” she announced, her voice ringing with finality. “Now get the hell out of here.” Mrs. Davison quickly added, “And let me check your things before you leave. Someone who looks as poor as you is probably a thief. You’re probably planning on stealing something on your way out.” That was the final straw for my mother. She had never been subjected to such humiliation in her life. She stood up straight and declared, her voice shaking but firm, “This is my house! You are the ones who need to leave!” Mrs. Davison’s face contorted with rage. “You’re still trying to squat in my house? I’ll teach you a lesson!” Before anyone could react, she lunged forward and kicked my mother squarely in the stomach. My mom’s head snapped back and hit the hard tile floor with a sickening crack. Then, she crumpled to the ground, unconscious. 4 At the sight of my mother’s limp body on the floor, all the color drained from Olivia’s face. She clearly hadn’t expected things to escalate to physical violence. “Mom! Mom, please don’t scare me!” I yelled, scrambling to her side. I didn’t have time to deal with Mrs. Davison. I fumbled for my phone and dialed 911. But Liam’s mother was still ranting, completely unrepentant. “Don’t you try to fool me, you old hag! Lying on the floor pretending to be unconscious won’t work. If you’re trying to set me up for a lawsuit, you can forget it!” “This is my house! If you’re going to die, do it outside! Don’t bring your bad luck into my home on such a joyous occasion.” Hearing this, some of the relatives she’d brought with her started to move forward, as if they were actually going to drag my unconscious mother out of the house. I shoved the first person back, my voice a roar. “If any of you touch her, I swear to God!” My expression must have been terrifying, because they all froze in their tracks. It was only then that Liam, who had been watching the entire spectacle unfold from the sidelines, finally decided to intervene with some phony words of peace. “Mom, it’s a happy day, what’s all this about?” he said smoothly. “Olivia, why don’t you take my mom on a tour of the rest of the house?” He glanced dismissively at my mother’s still form. “As for the maid you hired, her son is right here taking care of her. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” He called her “the maid” on purpose. It was a deliberate jab, meant to humiliate and provoke me. But right now, my entire world had narrowed to my mother, lying unconscious on the floor. I didn’t have the energy to spare for his petty, pathetic games. “Are you even human, Olivia?” I choked out, my voice thick with disbelief. “My mother treated you like her own daughter. She loved you. And this is how you repay her?” “She is lying here, and we don’t even know if she’s going to be okay, and you’re about to go give her attacker a tour of the house?” Olivia glanced from my furious face to my mother’s body on the floor, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of hesitation crossed her face. “I…” Before she could finish, Mrs. Davison cut her off. “You watch what you say, young man! Who are you calling an attacker?” she screeched. “It was your mother who was shameless, refusing to leave my house! Daughter-in-law, get these two out of here right now!” Olivia remained frozen for a second, looking as though she was afraid of things getting any worse. Sensing her wavering, Mrs. Davison suddenly clutched her own chest, letting out a dramatic gasp. That was all it took. The hesitation in Olivia’s eyes vanished, replaced by alarm. “Mom, are you okay?” she cried, rushing to Mrs. Davison’s side. She turned back to me, her face hard as stone. “Ethan, take your mother and get out. Now.” In that instant, the towering rage I had felt just moments before evaporated, leaving behind only a cold, hollow space filled with disgust and a profound sense of loss. The paramedics arrived quickly, and they saved my mother’s life. Later, standing by her hospital bed, looking at the tubes and wires connected to her frail body, I balled up my fist and punched the wall, a wave of self-loathing washing over me. The woman I had cherished, the woman I had placed on a pedestal for five years, had nearly gotten my mother killed. I wanted to ask Olivia why she had married me if she never loved me. But I knew, even as the question formed in my mind, that there was no point. The answer didn’t matter anymore. I stepped out of the room and called her. It wasn’t her voice that answered, but Liam’s, dripping with smug contempt. “Ethan, my man. Olivia’s in the shower right now. You might have to wait a bit.” He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “By the way, this house of yours is incredibly comfortable. I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave.” I didn’t say a word. I just ended the call. Half an hour later, my phone rang again. This time, it was Olivia. “Ethan, how’s your mom? It’s probably nothing serious, right?” she said, her tone breezy and dismissive. “This business with Liam will be over by tomorrow. When I get back, I’ll make it up to you. We can have a do-over for your birthday, and I…” “Don’t bother,” I said, cutting her off. “The divorce papers have already been sent to you.” “And one more thing,” I added, my voice as cold as ice. “I’m not letting this go. I’ve already downloaded the footage from the security cameras in the house. I’ll see you in court.”

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I’ve been bound to a “System” and tasked with saving a villain. Not just any villain—a reborn, blackened, paranoid, trust-no-one-type villain. [System: Okay, let’s pick your role. You could be the girl-next-door he grew up with, or perhaps the toxic side-character who becomes his right-hand woman…] “I want to be his mom,” I said. [System: ???] I smiled. “If this is a rescue mission, the best way to save him is to make sure none of the bad stuff ever happens at all.” This time, he’s going to be a happy kid. This time, he’ll have a mother. 1 On a perfectly normal day, a thing calling itself a “Rescue & Redemption System” hijacked my life. It told me I had to save a villain who had been reborn with all his dark memories. [System: He’s unstable and trusts no one. He might abandon you or misunderstand you because of other women. But if you just try hard enough, you’ll definitely win his heart!] I looked at the photo of the “villain.” He was a teenager with ice-cold eyes and a massive scar splitting his face. I was skeptical. [System: Now, let’s pick your identity! You can be his childhood sweetheart, the girl next door, or even the evil side-character who ends up working for him. Basically, any female role that can get close to him. Pretty cool, right?] I nodded. “In that case, I choose to be his mom.” [System: …….] I shrugged. “Boyfriends are high-maintenance. A son is an investment.” And just like that, I woke up as the mother of Milo Vance, who was, at this moment, a newborn. His father had just died in an accident, leaving the original “me” all alone. In the original story, the insurance payout attracted the wrong kind of attention. A local thief broke in, murdered the mother, and stole the money and the baby. The thief, a drunk and a gambler, was a broke good-for-nothing who figured he’d just raise the kid to be his free labor in his old age. This was before security cameras were everywhere, so he got away with it. But he didn’t “raise” the kid. He beat him. Milo Vance had a miserable childhood and never set foot in a school. When he was a teenager, the thief got drunk and let slip the truth of his origin. Milo killed him, ran away, and joined the criminal underworld, clawing his way up from nothing. I looked at the photo of him as an adult again. That scar, the one that ran from his temple to his jaw? The thief gave it to him. He looked less like a man and more like a cornered wolf. 2 Milo’s father had been an orphan, so we had no family to speak of. I took the $50,000 settlement check and went back to the small, rural hometown I’d grown up in. In this day and age, $50,000 was a real fortune. Most folks were just getting by. I kept the small house in the nearest big town; we’d need it when Milo was old enough for school. I was an orphan, too, basically raised by the whole town. Not everyone was a saint, but it was a tight-knit community. If you yelled, people came running. Not like the city, where you could be dead for days and no one would know. When I showed up with a baby, the town was shocked. But I had money, and Mr. Henderson, the unofficial mayor, helped me get a plot of land. I paid for the materials, gave everyone cash for their time, and bought burgers and barbecue for the crew. In no time, I had a dozen people helping me build a small house. While it was being built, I stayed with Mr. Henderson. His wife, Sarah, helped me with Milo while I was still recovering from the birth. Milo… he was already reborn. His dark little eyes were empty, holding a stillness that was deeply unnerving in an infant. But no matter how dark his soul, he was still just a baby. He ate, he slept, and that was it. He had some kind of infant pride, though. He never cried. Unless he was absolutely starving. Then he’d let out two sharp little grunts. And he absolutely refused to breastfeed. When Sarah laid him in my arms, he just turned his head and spat the nipple out. To be honest, I was relieved. I’d never been a mom. It was awkward. I’d bought formula and malted milk powder in town—both luxuries. Sarah would mix it and feed him, tiny spoonful by tiny spoonful. But he was a baby. What went in, came out. A little while later, he’d squirm and grunt. Sarah would change him, patting his bottom. “He’s going to be a real heartbreaker, isn’t he? So serious all the time.” Milo waved his little fists, as if trying to cover his face, and let out two tiny sobs. He wanted me. I smiled and took him. He stared at me, his gaze intense, curious. “I’m your mom,” I whispered. “And this time, you’re going to have a happy life.” 3 The house was finished. With the System’s help, I got the furniture set up, and Milo and I moved in. His favorite thing to do was lie in his crib and just… stare at me. Whenever he did, I’d scoop him up, tickle his stomach, and nuzzle his neck until he was squirming and flailing. He’d look so indignant, and I’d just laugh. Then I’d give him a bottle, and he’d be fast asleep. Just like that, Milo turned three. He was a homebody, but I made good snacks, so the neighborhood kids always came over to him. He had playmates, even if he just sat there with his little grumpy face, which earned him the nickname “Old Man Milo.” Today, I dressed him in yellow overalls with a little duck on the pocket, stuffed his pockets with candy, and hung his little canteen around his neck. “Go on, honey. Go play with your friends.” Milo, ever the cool guy, just hugged my leg and mumbled into my jeans. “Mommy. No go.” I crouched down and looked him in the eyes. “Today is a special mission for a brave explorer. Mommy will be right here waiting for you. I promise.” 4 I gently nudged him out the door. With the System, I had a live feed. He stood on the porch for a full minute, his face all scrunched up. Finally, his little legs started moving. He was heading for the big hay bales by the creek, where the town kids always played hide-and-seek. I’d taken him there a few times. A few adults saw him and waved. “Hey there, Milo! Where you off to?” He’d stop, tilt his head all the way back to look up at them, and after a long pause, say, “Out. To play.” They’d chuckle. “Alright. Don’t go too far, now.” He’s not a social kid. Usually, he just hides his face in my neck. But I taught him that when people say hello, you have to say hello back. It’s polite. He gave them a tiny nod. “Thank you. I know.” He’d pat his hat, a blue one with a little tiger on it. He once told me it was “babyish,” but I know he loves it because I always catch him fiddling with the ears. So, I sew little animals on all his clothes. 5 He finally got to the hay bales. The kids swarmed him. “Milo! You’re out by yourself?” “Where’s your mom?” A little girl pointed to his overalls. “I love your clothes! That duck is so cute!” Her voice was full of envy. In this town, in this decade, new clothes were rare. The boys just pointed at his hat. Milo puffed up, covering his tiger hat with both hands. “Don’t touch me!” he yelled. “Or you get no candy!” That got their attention. “Candy! He has candy!” They all stood at attention. Milo sighed, like he was bearing a great burden. “Sit down. You have to sit nicely to get candy.” They sat. He gravely walked down the line, placing one piece of candy in each outstretched hand. One of the kids was so happy he was licking the wrapper. “Your mom is the best. She gives you new clothes and candy. And she makes the best food. I wish she was my mom.” This started a chorus. “Yeah, me too!” This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Milo got mad. “She’s my mom!” he shouted, trying to snatch the candy back. “She doesn’t like you! Not any of you!” The kids yelped and shielded their candy. Milo, defeated, huffed, turned around, and stormed off. 6 He only made it a little way down the path before he got tired. He sat down, opened his canteen, and took a sip. He hesitated, then pulled a caramel from his own pocket and popped it in his mouth. His little cheeks puffed out. He looked like a chipmunk. A sparrow landed a few feet away, tilting its head, not at all scared. Milo watched it. Then he pulled a cookie from his other pocket, broke it into crumbs, and tossed them on the ground. The sparrow stared at him, then hopped over and started to eat. [System: Who’d believe that’s the heartless villain?] Milo wasn’t a scrawny, scarred wolf-cub anymore. He was plump and pale, his cheeks were round, and his hands were dimpled. He was a little white dumpling. “Rich soil grows beautiful flowers,” I replied. “It’s only natural.” [System: His affection for you is at 60%! This is unheard of! Saving a villain like this is supposed to take decades!] “Kids love the person who takes care of them,” I said, feeling smug. “That’s also natural.” [System: ….Show-off.] I laughed and went back to making chocolate chip cookies. On the system feed, I saw Milo rounding the bend by the big oak tree. I quickly went outside, holding a big, red candied apple. I was pretty strict about sugar, so this was a huge treat. I stood on the porch in my yellow sundress. As soonE as he came into view, I called out. “Milo!” His little walk turned into a trot, and then a full-on run. And he was smiling—a huge, goofy grin, showing all his little milk teeth. It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile that freely. I opened my arms, and he crashed into me. “Did you have fun today?” I asked, kissing the top of his head. He just rubbed his face on my neck and nodded hard. “Mm-hmm.” I set him down and handed him the apple. “Your reward, brave explorer.” His eyes went wide. He stuck his tongue out and gave the apple a tiny lick, then squinted his eyes in pure bliss. [System: Alert. The villain has become a fiend for sugar.]

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After I was cast as the other woman, I had the wife eating out of the palm of my hand. Not only did she start calling me a friend, she practically gift-wrapped her husband and pushed him in my direction. Unfortunately, she had a brother who was a human lie detector. Every time I’d successfully driven a wedge between the happy couple, I’d look up and meet his knowing, heavy-lidded gaze. It was enough to make my blood run cold. Later, I overheard her ask him, “Why are you always so cold to Mia?” He stubbed out his cigarette. “Because every time I see her, she hits me with that wide-eyed, damsel-in-distress look. She’s trying to reel me in.” He paused. “I’m just giving her some space. You can’t make it too easy for them. They don’t appreciate what they don’t have to work for.” She just stared at him, completely baffled. 1 The shouting match inside the sprawling Palisades mansion was escalating again. Declan’s voice was dark and obsessive, the sound of a man completely unhinged. “Audrey, the only way you’re getting a divorce is over my dead body.” The declaration was followed by the sharp shatter of glass and a choked-back sob. That was my cue. I pressed the doorbell. After a moment of charged silence, the heavy oak door creaked open. Declan stood there, a mess. A fresh cut split his lower lip, and angry red scratches snaked up his neck. It wasn’t hard to guess what had just happened. I lowered my gaze, pretending not to notice a thing. “Declan,” I said, my voice soft. “Thank you again for the job at the firm. I… I made you some congee.” His stormy eyes fell to the pink thermos in my hands, and the rage in his features seemed to soften, just a fraction. “It was nothing. Don’t mention it.” He attempted a smile, but it was a grim, tight-lipped thing. He made no move to take the thermos. “Sorry, something’s come up at work. I have to go.” As Declan brushed past me and disappeared down the driveway, I stepped into the foyer. Audrey was perched on the edge of a white sofa, her back ramrod straight. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but her spine was steel. When she saw me, a flicker of light returned to her defiant gaze. A pair of dimples appeared as she managed a small, sad smile. “Mia. You’re here.” I nodded, lifting the thermos with a deliberately bright smile. “Audrey, I brought…” My voice caught. I changed course mid-sentence. “I brought you some congee. I remember you said your stomach was bothering you last time. It’s supposed to be very soothing.” A nagging voice, the one I call my ‘script,’ buzzed in my head. That was for the husband. You’re lying again. I wrinkled my nose, lowering my voice to a whisper only it could hear. But he didn’t want it. Are you really going to let the first thing I’ve ever successfully cooked go to waste? Before I was dropped into this life, I couldn’t even boil water. Even with the script’s guidance, this simple rice porridge was the only thing I could manage. As if to prove my point, I subtly angled my hand, revealing a patch of red skin on my wrist from a careless burn. The voice faltered. Fine. But you still have to say the lines. You have to drive them apart. A small, triumphant smile played on my lips. 2 The script had bent the rules. I couldn’t push it. My eyes fell on the elaborate, untouched breakfast spread on the marble island—avocado toast, fresh fruit, a silver pot of coffee. I let out a wistful sigh. “You’re such a natural at this, Audrey. Not like me. All I can do is make porridge, and even then, I just end up being a bother to… Declan.” My breath hitched. Spencer had materialized behind me, silent as a ghost. Damn it all. It was always like this. The moment the poison left my lips, I’d find myself pinned by his clear, piercing eyes. He was like a radar custom-built to detect my specific brand of bullshit. I pressed my lips together. Audrey, oblivious, was already ladling the congee into a bowl. “Spencer! What are you doing here?” she asked, her smile genuine for the first time. “Have you eaten?” He stood there in a perfectly tailored suit, the top button of his shirt fastened, radiating a cool, almost severe elegance. His gaze landed on the thick, white porridge. “I have,” he said flatly. Audrey shrugged, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “Your loss. It’s Mia’s first time cooking. She made it for me.” A flicker of surprise—or something like it—crossed Spencer’s face. His eyes then moved, with unnerving precision, to the red burn mark on my wrist. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes clouding over with a subtle displeasure. “Is that so?” I instinctively hid my hand behind my back. It might have been my imagination, but Spencer’s expression seemed to darken further. He gave me one last, deep look before striding over and plucking the bowl from Audrey’s hands. She swatted at his arm, indignant. “Hey! You said you weren’t hungry! Why are you stealing my congee?” “Suddenly thirsty,” Spencer replied, his tone casual, but his eyes were fixed on me. “Is that a problem?” His question was for his sister, but his gaze was a challenge meant only for me. I just stood there, completely frozen. 3 My problem with Spencer wasn’t personal, not at first. It started a few weeks ago, on my first attempt to execute the ‘late-night chat’ scene. The script demanded I show up at the husband’s door in a silk nightgown. Except, I went to the wrong room. The thought of discussing nonexistent feelings with Declan was excruciating, so I improvised. I turned the seduction scene into a job interview. For thirty minutes, I sat in the dark and cried to the shadowy figure on the sofa about how hard it was to find a job in this economy. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. The lamp clicked on. Spencer was lounging on the sofa, looking impossibly relaxed and rumpled. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that was far more captivating than it had any right to be. He looked… amused. “Is it really that hard to find a job?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, thick with sleep. I was momentarily stunned. Then, scrambling to my feet, the hem of my short nightgown fluttered up, offering a fleeting glimpse of pale thigh. Spencer’s eyes darkened. “Are you done crying?” he asked, his voice suddenly raspy. His gaze felt predatory, and a strange flutter of panic went through me. I stammered an apology and fled. Ever since, I’d run into him everywhere. And every time I mentioned Declan’s name, Spencer’s face would turn to stone. I couldn’t tell if he’d figured out my whole act, but the uncertainty made me nervous. “Audrey, it’s my first day at Declan’s firm, so I should probably get going.” I stood up, desperate to escape. “Wait,” Audrey called out. “How are you getting there? Do you have a car?” I froze. My plan had been to hitch a ride with Declan—a perfect opportunity to stir the pot and save on an Uber. But he’d stormed out before he’d even had his coffee. I was stuck. “It’s fine, Audrey. I’ll just call a car.” Getting a ride-share out here in the hills was a nightmare, but for the right price, someone would eventually show. She shook her head, her brow furrowed with concern. “Absolutely not.” Her eyes scanned the room, landing on Spencer. They lit up. A sense of dread washed over me. Sure enough, before I could protest, she said, “My brother is the safest driver I know. He can take you.” Years of practice kicked in. I bit my lip, forcing my eyes to well up with manufactured vulnerability as I glanced at Spencer’s stoic face. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly trouble him… Spencer.” “It’s no trouble,” Spencer said, his voice flat. He didn’t even look at me. “It’s on my way.” Audrey frowned. “Your office is downtown, Spence. Declan’s is on the Westside. Are you sure you’re not getting your directions mixed up?” The skepticism in her voice was palpable. For a split second, I saw a muscle twitch in Spencer’s jaw. “I have a meeting with Declan,” he said, the words sounding like they were ground between his teeth. He paused, his eyes finally flicking to me. “It’s just a ride. Don’t read into it.” “I-I wasn’t,” I stammered. 4 Under Spencer’s heavy gaze, I buckled myself into the passenger seat of his immaculate sedan. The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife. Suddenly, the car pulled over on an unfamiliar street. “This isn’t the office,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I know,” Spencer said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Wait here.” I watched him walk into a pharmacy. A few minutes later, he was back, pressing a small tube of burn cream into my palm. “If you don’t know how to cook, don’t,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “You’ll just hurt yourself. And the result is… hard to swallow.” I barely managed to keep my expression neutral. He was the one who insisted on eating it. “And another thing,” he said, turning to face me fully. I instinctively shrank back against the window. Spencer let out an exasperated sound. “Am I that terrifying?” He sounded genuinely baffled. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no! It’s just… you turned so fast, your handsomeness startled me.” I did my best to blush, clasping my hands in my lap, trying to look as sincere as humanly possible. His own hands, which had been reaching for his phone, clenched into a fist. The tips of his ears turned a faint shade of pink. He cleared his throat. Then he tossed his phone into my lap. His expression was dead serious. “Why did you send me this?” When did I send him a photo? Confused, I picked up the phone. My blood ran cold. 5 On the screen was the photo the script had forced me to send to Declan. Me, in a tight-fitting dress that hugged every curve, with a ridiculously flashy diamond necklace drawing attention to my collarbone. The script’s prompt was to ask his opinion on the necklace—a classic, manipulative move. I’d cringed, sent it, and then, overcome with regret, unsent it moments later. I never imagined I’d sent it to Spencer by mistake. And he’d saved it. My first instinct was to delete it. He snatched the phone back before I could, his movements whip-fast. He checked to make sure the photo was still there, then let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. His eyes, dark and intense, were back on me. “Care to explain?” My mind raced. “I’m so sorry! I meant to send that to Audrey, to get her opinion on the necklace. I must have… clicked on your name by accident.” My voice dwindled as his stare grew more piercing. It was a pathetic excuse. His contact photo was nothing like Audrey’s. It was, however, almost identical to Declan’s. I thought about the original story, about how Spencer, upon discovering Audrey had given me her kidney, had me thrown into the ocean. Adrenaline surged through me. My cheeks flushed, and a genuine mist of fear clouded my eyes. He clearly didn’t believe my flimsy lie. To avoid being completely exposed, I decided to surrender. “I’m sorry.” His hand came up, and his thumb brushed gently, quickly, against my lower eyelid. It was the lightest of touches. His eyes were shadowed with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “You just love to reel me in, don’t you?” “What?” I hadn’t heard him clearly. His words were fast, almost angry. Meeting my wide, innocent eyes, I saw the tension leave his shoulders, the fists at his sides unclenching. The car started moving again. “Just try not to send things to the wrong person again,” Spencer said. From his low, strained voice, I understood the warning. He must have seen how terrified I was and decided to let it go. A wave of relief washed over me. “Okay,” I nodded, trying to look as docile as possible. “I won’t.” When he dropped me at the entrance to the office building, he didn’t even wait for me to get out before driving away. My mouth, which had opened to say thank you, closed. Maybe the meeting with Declan was just an excuse. An excuse to warn me not to send him suggestive photos. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that Spencer could see right through me. I made a mental note: stay as far away from him as possible. 6 My new position was Declan’s executive assistant. It came with a built-in office rival. From the moment I sat down, I could feel her eyes on me, sharp and possessive. I nudged the script with a mental question. Who’s that? The system scanned and delivered. That’s Jenna, Declan’s classmate and longtime assistant. Capable, but she’s in love with him. She not only tries to seduce him but also frames the wife for having an affair. She’s also the one who drugs him later in the story. So, it was her. Reading the original story, Jenna was the character I despised the most. She hid behind the “best friend” and “loyal colleague” titles, secretly pining for Declan but never having the courage to confess. She was fine with the status quo as long as he was single. But the moment Declan showed the slightest interest in Audrey, Jenna panicked. At a company gala, she drugged his drink and tipped off the press, hoping to force his hand. But through a twist of fate, Audrey stumbled into the room instead. It happened to be right when Audrey’s family business was going through a crisis. Declan, betrayed and furious, assumed Audrey had set the whole thing up to trap him. That flicker of love he’d started to feel was crushed under the weight of his anger. He married her anyway, but from that day forward, their marriage was a cold war of unspoken resentment and pain. The script added, Declan actually loves Audrey deeply. The deeper the love, the more he couldn’t accept her “betrayal.” Once the truth comes out, the groveling will begin. I almost scoffed. By the time the truth came out, Audrey would be missing a kidney and I’d be sleeping with the fishes, courtesy of Spencer. Declan’s redemption arc could go to hell. I was more interested in helping Audrey get a divorce. The script seemed to read my mind. Don’t waste your time. The bond between the main characters isn’t that easy to break. I couldn’t stand its smug tone. I mentally hit the mute button, cutting it off mid-sentence. Its tinny, indignant curses echoed in my head, and for the first time all day, I felt a genuine sense of satisfaction. 7 As Declan’s assistant, I had a front-row seat to Jenna’s masterclass in manipulation. Business trips, client meetings, contract negotiations—she was always by his side. But it didn’t stop there. A common cold, a headache, cramps—every minor ailment was an emergency that required Declan’s personal attention. I watched in silence as he, the CEO of a multi-million dollar company, personally brewed her a cup of ginger tea with brown sugar. The script’s voice resurfaced, dripping with sarcasm. If only I’d been assigned to Jenna. You’re an amateur compared to her. I ignored it and pulled out my phone. I was just about to “accidentally” send a picture of the cozy scene to Audrey when she appeared in the doorway. She stood there, her face pale, staring at Declan and Jenna. Her eyes, usually so bright, looked like dull, lifeless stones. It was heartbreaking. I silently cursed them both. My body moved before my brain could catch up. “Audrey,” I said, rushing to her side. I took her hand; it was ice-cold. I tried to pour some of my own warmth into her. She forced a smile. “I’m okay.” But the dimples in her cheeks were filled with bitterness. The moment he saw Audrey, Declan instinctively pushed Jenna away. “It’s not what it looks like…” he started to explain. But Jenna cut him off before he could finish. “Audrey, please don’t be angry,” she said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. “My cramps were just really bad, and Declan was just being a good friend.” The way she lowered her eyes, playing the victim, made my teeth ache. I couldn’t help but ask myself a question. Hey, script. Am I this annoying? I feel like Audrey can see right through Jenna’s act. Why is she always so nice to me? The script’s voice was flat, deadpan. Because all of your manipulations are aimed at the husband. The wife has no reason to be mad at you. Right now, Jenna is aiming at her. Of course she’s angry. She’s not an idiot. Even the script could see how furious Audrey was. Declan, however, seemed to be completely blind. The fact that he’d almost explained himself to Audrey seemed to infuriate him. His face hardened. “Stop being so dramatic. We’re just friends.” The last glimmer of hope in Audrey’s eyes died. She let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Dramatic?” She was too heartbroken to even argue. 8 Audrey turned and walked away, her movements sharp and final. She looked fragile, like a single gust of wind could shatter her. I started to go after her, but Declan was faster. He grabbed her arm, his face a mask of rare, unfiltered panic. “Stop making a scene. There’s nothing going on between us.” Audrey ripped her arm from his grasp. “Think whatever you want.” She met his frantic gaze, her voice weary and cold. “Declan, I’m tired. I don’t care what your relationship is with her. Let’s just get a divorce.” Divorce. The word was music to my ears. I almost jumped for joy. But for Declan, it was like a lit match to a barrel of gunpowder. His face went rigid, his eyes like chips of ice. “Don’t even think about it.” He grabbed her arm again, so tightly I could see her wince. “You think I’m going to let you run off to that doctor of yours, to Leo?” His voice dropped to a low, menacing growl. “You started this, Audrey. You’re stuck with me for life.” Even from several feet away, the intensity of his rage was suffocating. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for Audrey, trapped in his orbit. The script piped up again, smug as ever. See? He’s completely in love with her. He gets jealous when she even talks to another doctor, he just doesn’t realize it yet. After the truth comes out and he grovels, they’ll get their happy ending. To hell with their happy ending. A hot wave of anger washed over me, so strong it burned away my carefully constructed persona. I marched over and threw myself at Declan. “Let her go!” I yelled, pulling at his arm. “Stop bullying her!” Seeing me jump in, Audrey started to struggle again, afraid I would get hurt. Out of nowhere, Jenna appeared. In the chaos, she lunged forward and slapped Audrey. Hard. Twice. I saw red. “You son of a bitch, Declan! You just stood there and let her do it!” 9 Jenna had moved so fast, Declan didn’t have time to react. By the time he finally let go of Audrey’s arm, looking utterly stunned, it was too late. “I’m sorry, I…” CRACK. Audrey, her expression shattered, swung her hand across his face with all her might. “Get out,” she screamed, her voice raw with pain. “Both of you, just get out!” A flicker of malicious satisfaction crossed Jenna’s face before she quickly replaced it with a mask of pathetic sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Audrey, I didn’t mean to. I just saw you two fighting and I… I got scared for Declan.” She cast a pleading, tear-filled glance in his direction. “If you’re going to divorce him over this, then… then you can hit me back. I won’t mind. I don’t feel pain.” She bit her lip, looking for all the world like she was on the verge of collapsing. Audrey was raised better than to get into a physical fight. I, however, was not. I slapped Jenna across the face. She froze, stunned, for two full seconds before she launched herself at me like a wild animal. She was coming at me with everything she had. The world seemed to shift into slow motion. I could see Audrey’s horrified face, her hand reaching out to pull me back. But my body was already falling, stumbling backward. The back of my head hit something hard. And then, everything went dark.

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The day I died, my killer fell apart. To be precise, my indirect killer, who, in reality, was the one who directly signed my death warrant. My mother always hated me. She said I was trash, nothing but a tramp who lived to seduce men. She first said that when I was in elementary school. This Christmas, she left me at home with three of our neighbors—three men—while she went to the mall with my aunt and cousin. I cried. I told her I was scared and begged her to take me with her. She just laughed at me, her voice full of contempt. “They’re adults, Lily. Your father’s friends. What are they gonna do, hurt you? Besides, with a body like yours, who’d even want you?” After she left, I was raped. Then murdered. My body was cut up and flushed down the toilet. When they realized I was missing, my relatives wanted to call the police. My mother stopped them. She insisted I’d obviously just run off to “mess around” with some boy. And then, finally, they learned the truth… Mom was holding a bright red dress up to my cousin, Chloe, her face glowing with a tenderness I had never seen directed at me. She beamed, “This color is just perfect for my Chloe.” My cousin tried to refuse, but Mom insisted, “It’s the holidays! You have to wear something festive.” My aunt, Carol, looked uncomfortable. “Sarah,” she said, “since we’re here, we should get something for Lily, too.” I really did need new clothes. The winter coat I was wearing—well, the one my body was wearing—was from two years ago, when I was 15. Dad bought it for me. I’d grown so fast I couldn’t even zip it up anymore. But Mom’s face soured. “Buy her something? Why?” “So she can look even more like a tramp to lure in men? Besides, Lily’s always been cheap trash. She doesn’t deserve nice clothes.” Chloe and Aunt Carol looked embarrassed, even though they were used to hearing her talk like this. All our relatives knew Mom didn’t like me. She’d been spoiled her whole life. First by my grandparents, then by my dad, who treated her like a princess. Chloe told me that when Mom was pregnant with me, she was actually excited. She kept saying she hoped I’d be a boy, so I could protect her alongside Dad. Too bad. I was a girl. I was born premature, weak, and sickly. Grandpa, Grandma, and Dad started giving me some of the attention they used to give her. Mom decided I’d stolen their love. From then on, she hated me. The less she cared, the guiltier they felt, and the more they doted on me. Which just made her hate me more. It was fine when they were around. But when they were gone, she was a monster. She once stared at me, her eyes full of pure venom, and whispered, “I regret not killing you in the womb.” I still shiver when I remember that look. I snapped out of the memory. Mom was already dragging Aunt Carol out of the store, as if she was afraid my aunt would actually buy me something. I suddenly felt so sad. But Mom… even if you wanted to buy me clothes now, I can’t wear them anymore. I followed them as they kept shopping. Dad, who was away on a business trip, called. He warned her, “Lily’s a young woman now, Sarah. Don’t leave her home alone when you and Carol go out.” Mom pouted, instantly annoyed that he cared about me. “Lily, Lily, that’s all you care about! What about me? I’m your wife~” I heard Dad’s good-natured laugh on the phone. “Of course I care about you. I care about you the most.” After they cooed at each other for a few seconds, Dad repeated, “Seriously, Sarah. Keep Lily with you. Men who’ve been drinking are dangerous.” She mumbled “uh-huh” and hung up. She kicked at a pile of dirty snow on the curb. “They really mean it when they say a daughter is her father’s lover from a past life,” she muttered. “Little tramp.” I just watched, feeling that weird, familiar sting behind my eyes. Dad knew what Mom was like. He texted my cousin, Chloe. Mom heard the ping and looked at Chloe, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “My, my. Aren’t we popular? Who’s texting our little Chloe during the holidays?” Chloe didn’t dare say it was Dad. She made up a quick lie. But she took Dad’s warning seriously. A minute later, she said, “Aunt Sarah, maybe we should head back? It’s freezing out here. And it’s no fun for Lily to be all alone.” Mom hated when anyone showed me an ounce of sympathy. “She’s not alone, is she? She’s got Mr. Henderson and his sons with her.” Aunt Carol chimed in, “Sarah, they’re all men, and they’ve been drinking. Lily’s a grown girl now. It’s not safe.” Mom just scoffed. “Not safe? They’re adults! They’re our neighbors! And besides, look at Lily. All skin and bones. What man would even want her?” I listened, and my heart physically ached. How strange. My heart had been carved out of my chest, so how could it still hurt? Two hours ago, Mom had said the exact same thing to me. Today was December 27th. Our neighbor, Mr. Henderson, had come over with his two adult sons, Mark and Ben. My aunt and cousin were there too, so it was a full house. Everyone was drinking. The women were fine, but the men got wasted. After lunch, Mom suggested she, Aunt Carol, and Chloe go shopping, leaving me behind. I saw the way the men were looking at me. Their eyes were… slimy. I started to tremble. They weren’t the nice, friendly neighbors I knew. They looked like animals. I grabbed Mom’s sleeve, pleading. “Mom, I want to go with you. I don’t want to stay here… I’m scared!” She yanked her arm away and sneered. “Lily, they’re practically your uncles! And stop being dramatic. You think they’d be interested in you?” Before I could say another word, she pushed me into my bedroom, locked the door from the outside, and left the key and my phone on the coffee table. She didn’t know. The second she was gone, they unlocked the door. They came in. They… they did it. It was brutal. I tried to scream, to fight, to call for help, but they clamped their hands over my mouth and nose so hard I couldn’t breathe. By the time they were finished, I was dead. Mom, if you had just listened to Dad… if you had even just called me, you would have known. While you were at the mall, saying those things… Mr. Henderson and his sons were frantically cutting my body into pieces and flushing me down the toilet. Mom… the bathroom floor was so cold. It hurt so much. Mom took Chloe and Aunt Carol to get their nails done. I watched from the side, a little envious. I’d only been with her to a nail salon once. The little gems and sparkles were so pretty, glinting under the lights like crystals from a fairy tale. I was leaning on the counter, just staring at them, and Mom saw me. She slapped me. Right there in the salon. “What are you looking at? Want to get your nails done so you can be a better hooker?” I was stunned, just holding my cheek. Everyone stared. Mom didn’t even look at me again. But now, she was telling Chloe, “Chloe, your fingers are so long and white. Any color would look beautiful on you.” I lowered my head. Chloe texted me. No reply. She was starting to look really worried. While Mom was getting a top coat, she snuck outside to call me. Of course, I couldn’t answer. She looked even more panicked, pacing back and forth. I wanted to comfort her, but when I reached out, my hand passed right through her. I went silent. My eyes burned. Just then, another mother and daughter walked in. The daughter was helping her mom pick out charms. “Mom, this big one! It’s so pretty!” The mom tapped her on the nose. “My baby has the best taste!” They were so happy together. I stared, my eyes cold with envy. When I finally looked away, I saw Mom was watching them, too. Aunt Carol noticed. “What’s wrong, Sarah? Jealous?” My heart jumped. Yeah, Mom. Are you jealous? Do you wish we were like that? But she just clicked her tongue and looked away. “I am. That little girl is so sweet. Not like Lily.” Her voice was full of disgust. “Carol, you don’t know the half of it. Lily is so manipulative. She only acts pitiful around my parents and my husband, making it look like I’m the bad guy! She’s always sucking up to them, trying to steal everything that’s mine!” Aunt Carol just sighed. She knew Mom’s mind was set. But for some reason, Mom seemed agitated. She pushed the expensive charms away. “Forget it. Just give me a plain color.” A minute later, she stood up. “This is boring. Let’s just go home. God knows what kind of trouble that brat is stirring up.” My chest felt tight. Mom… did seeing them make you think of me? The daughter you left at home? But it was too late, Mom. The blood and hair I left in the bathroom… it was all cleaned up by then. When they got home, they went straight to my room. It was spotless. As if nothing had happened. If I hadn’t lived it, even I would have thought it was all a bad dream. Chloe was even more worried. She looked at Mr. Henderson and his sons, who were pretending to watch TV. They saw her looking and quickly looked away. Chloe knew something was wrong. She tugged on Aunt Carol’s sleeve. Aunt Carol caught on and asked them, “Where’s Lily?” “Oh,” Mark stammered, forcing a laugh. “I think she went out. Saw her take a call and leave.” Ben chimed in, “Yeah, yeah, you know kids her age. Probably wanted to hang out with her friends.” But Chloe knew I wouldn’t just leave, and my phone shouldn’t be off. She and Aunt Carol looked at each other. “We need to call the police.” The men flinched. But Mom stopped them. She was furious. “Call the police? For what?” Her voice was cold, certain. “You don’t know Lily. I do. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows my parents are coming tomorrow! She wants to use this to tell them I… I abused her!” Aunt Carol and Chloe were speechless. “Sarah, what are you saying…” Mom just snorted, her eyes flashing. “I’ll show her. I’ll show her who they care about more! That little bitch! Nobody go looking for her! When she comes crawling back, I’m going to break her legs!” Chloe was frantic. “Aunt Sarah! Lily’s not like that!” Mom just sneered. “You’ve all been fooled by her act! I saw her just the other day at the mall with some boy. She’s been dating behind our backs. She’s definitely out messing around with her boyfriend right now!” This finally convinced them to wait. The next day, I still wasn’t back. Mom got up early, made pancakes for Chloe, and braided her hair. I watched her hands weave through Chloe’s dark hair, so gentle, as if she was afraid of pulling a single strand. The winter sun streamed in, landing on them. It was a perfect, peaceful picture. Like they were the real mother and daughter. I felt a pang. Mom… if Chloe were your daughter, would you treat her like me? Is it me you hate, or just… the girl who is your daughter?

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The year I was at my heaviest, I sat on the school’s biggest bad boy and made him cry. The harder he cried, the more amped I got. I even straddled him and wiggled a few times. It felt… lumpy. From that day on, he’d sprint in the other direction the second he saw me. Three years later, at a class reunion, someone joked, “Maya’s so skinny now, she can’t make Zane Zhou cry just by sitting on him anymore.” He leaned forward, slowly crossing his legs. My entire body went hot, and I blushed all the way to my roots. 1 I’d almost completely forgotten what Zane Zhou looked like. For all of high school, he ran from me. He ran so fast that my memory of his face was just a blur. Freshman year, my new deskmate warned me. “That’s Zane Zhou. His grandfather basically owns this city. He’s bad news. If you see him, you walk the other way.” My mom had told me the same thing. You’re in the city now, Maya. Be humble. Don’t make trouble. I listened. I really did. So when I saw him on the practice field one day, cornered, one against five, I kept my head down. The five guys were seniors, and they were circling him. He saw me and actually yelled, “Maya!” I squinted, took a few steps closer, and realized who it was. I turned around and walked the long way. A second later, I heard a yelp of pain. When I got back to homeroom, I was worried he was actually hurt. So I told everyone. Then I told our homeroom teacher. When Mr. Henderson dragged the entire class out to the field, we found him. His shirt was ripped, one side of his face was swollen, and he had a black eye. It was the first time I’d ever seen him up close. All the girls in my class were obsessed with him, saying he was tall and handsome, with “deep-set, model-like eyes.” Right now, he looked like the homeless guy who panhandled outside the 7-Eleven. I couldn’t help it. I snorted. Our eyes met. He struggled to his feet, winced, and pointed at me. “You. Just you wait.” Mr. Henderson kicked him in the butt, which made him howl. The next evening, I was walking out of the cafeteria when he and his crew blocked my path. I clutched the chicken leg I was holding behind my back and swallowed hard. I’d only taken one bite. It would get cold. I forgot my mom’s warning. I forgot my friend’s warning. I was just hangry. “What do you want?” I snapped. “You’re mad I didn’t help? You were outnumbered five to one! If I jumped in and we won, wouldn’t that be even more embarrassing for you?” His friends shuffled, looking down. He just stuck his chin out. “You’re as big as a house, Maya. You shouldn’t be eating a chicken leg.” …That’s it? How juvenile. I tried to push past him. He grabbed my arm. I yanked it back, and my chicken leg—my beautiful, precious chicken leg—flew out of my hand and landed in the dirt. It was fine. I could just rinse it off. Pick the gravel out. He lifted his foot and stomped on it. Then he ground it into the asphalt, twisting his heel. My eyes slowly lifted from the greasy smear on the ground to his face. Rage, like a volcano, erupted inside me. I screamed and tackled him. One of his arms was already in a cast from the fight yesterday. His other arm was useless against my sheer mass. I sat right on his stomach. “You! Monster! You killed my chicken! That was my one chicken leg for the whole year! Waaaaah!” Zane’s face went from pale to bright red. And then, two lines of tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. A crowd started to gather. Someone yelled, “Go get a teacher!” At that, his friends scattered. The harder he cried, the more amped I got. I straddled him, grinding my hips down. Just like you did to my chicken. I didn’t know why, but it felt… lumpy. Someone finally managed to pull me off. I was depressed about that chicken leg for a solid month. The only thing that snapped me out of it was getting first place in the district on my midterms. 2 After that, Zane Zhou avoided me like I was the plague. He was a legacy admission. His mom was on the school board. I heard his middle school grades weren’t good enough for the worst high school in the city, let alone our magnet school. As a kid who’d been on the free-lunch program my entire life, I hated guys like him. Especially since he’d murdered my chicken. But I was also terrified of him. I was scared he’d tell his mom and get my scholarship revoked. Or just get me expelled. For an entire semester, I waited for the principal to call me to his office. I had nightmares about it. A rabid dog would chase me, pin me down, and just as it was about to bite, its face would morph into Zane’s. Then, at the final assembly, the principal said he had an announcement. The gym was hot and stuffy, but my back was cold with sweat. I was already calculating how to tell my mom I’d have to go work in the mines with her. The principal called my name. “Maya Chen. For the school’s new academic excellence scholarship. First place, eight thousand dollars.” It wasn’t a scholarship. It was a lifeline. It meant I had living expenses. It meant my mom could quit that job at the mine before her lungs gave out. The principal also gave a shout-out to Zane Zhou. His grades had gone from dead last to the middle of the pack. My friend, Chloe, whispered that he had a crush on Sarah Jenkins, the class “it girl.” Sarah was always top ten and had publicly said she’d never date a guy with bad grades. Zane’s desk was always piled with gifts from girls. He’d sweep them all into the trash. Except for Sarah’s. Hers, he put in his backpack. He stopped making trouble. When we passed in the hall, he didn’t call me “Fatty Maya.” Actually, he just… didn’t look at me at all. By senior year, he was the “unattainable ice-prince” of the school, turning down girls left and right, supposedly waiting for Sarah. The only other time we interacted was at graduation. Mr. Henderson, our old homeroom teacher, pulled me aside. “Zane’s mom wanted me to pass on a message. She said, ‘Thank that pretty, chubby girl in your class for me. She sat on my son and knocked some sense into him.’” I scratched my head. His mom was weird. When I turned to leave, Zane was standing in the office doorway. Our eyes met. He looked away. I looked down. We brushed shoulders as we passed. And that was it. 3 I wasn’t going to come to the reunion. I was about to start my senior year of college. I was juggling two part-time jobs and trying to lock down an internship. I was exhausted. Then Chloe called. “You have to come, Maya. This is networking. Plus, Zane Zhou is the one organizing it. Remember? The guy you sat on?” I groaned. “Chloe, please don’t bring that up. Fine. I’ll go.” I hid in the corner of my tiny apartment, my face burning. I was older now. I finally understood why it had felt… lumpy. I showed up to the reunion deliberately trying to look like I didn’t care. No makeup, a faded old hoodie, and my favorite tote bag with a supermarket logo on it. I was, by far, the most underdressed person there. In contrast, Zane Zhou was the center of the room. He was at least 6’2″, broad-shouldered, and wearing a white button-down with the top two buttons undone. It made me think of that chicken leg. I swallowed. The second I walked in, Chloe dragged me over. “Zane! Look who it is! Maya Chen!” A few people chuckled. “Maya’s so skinny now, she can’t make Zane cry just by sitting on him anymore.” Zane’s expression went stiff. He leaned forward, slowly crossing his legs. My whole body went hot, and I started fanning myself. “Wow, it’s warm in here. I’m just gonna get some air.” “Warm? Just take your hoodie off,” Chloe said, and yanked it straight over my head. The hoodie was a size XXL from my heavier days. It came off in one easy pull, revealing the thin tank top I had on underneath. I was standing right in front of him. His gaze dropped. He got an unobstructed view right down my top. I scrambled to pull the hoodie back on, my face on fire. Chloe was oblivious. “Damn, girl! You lost the weight, but you kept all the good parts! You could still make a guy cry sitting on him now.” I pulled my hoodie tight, but I snuck a glance at Zane. His ears were bright red. 4 Zane finally spoke, and we all realized this wasn’t just a party. “My tech company just opened its headquarters here,” he said. “We’re hiring. The pay is good, benefits are included. If you’re interested, send me your resume.” Chloe nudged me, showing me her phone. She’d already pulled up his company’s website. “Maya, this is literally your major.” I froze. I never wanted to have anything to do with Zane Zhou again. I hadn’t told anyone, but I’d seen him at The Stonewall, the local gay bar, when I was waitressing a private event. I’m not judgmental, but… it was weird. But I needed to move back home. My mom, trying to “help” with tuition, had secretly gone back to working in the mines. She had early-stage lung disease. I needed to be here, to take care of her. My hometown was an old industrial city. New tech companies were rare, and the ones that were here were just tiny, dead-end satellite offices. The starting salary on Zane’s website made my heart pound. That night, I tossed and turned. I had that dream again. A big, friendly dog runs at me, tackles me, and starts licking my face. Then it looks up, and it has Zane’s face. I woke up in a cold sweat. My phone rang. An unknown number. “Ms. Chen? This is ZenTek. We’d like to invite you for an interview next week.” It was Zane’s company. I hadn’t even applied. My mom’s doctor texted me. Her surgery was scheduled for next week. “I’ll be there,” I said into the phone. I had to go home anyway. Might as well. The day of the interview, Zane wasn’t there. The tech director and I hit it off. They didn’t even want me to intern; they offered me a full-time position. The starting salary was exactly what they’d advertised, no “probationary” cut. I knew I was good. I didn’t know I was this good. It would have been rude to say no. But my mom’s surgery got rescheduled, so I had to start a day late. The next morning, I ran into Zane in the elevator. “Good morning, Mr. Zhou,” I said respectfully. He swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t say anything. The elevator dinged. The second the doors opened a crack, I stuck my foot out. Through the crack, I saw a pair of long, gorgeous legs. The doors opened. It was Sarah Jenkins. She ignored me and launched herself into Zane’s arms. “Zane! I thought you were in meetings all day!” “Something came up,” he said. I stepped out of the elevator and turned back. Zane was standing stiffly, his hands hovering in the air, while Sarah hung off his neck, smiling.

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