Category: English

On the new dating show set, I’d just drawn the same number as my boyfriend, Lilyan, when a sweet-faced starlet snatched my card. “Looks like you’re my partner now,” she cooed to him. I moved to take it back, but my eyes caught the live comments: 【Our girl is making a move! So cute!】 【Sienna, move! Let our girl stand next to him!】 【Ugh, write Sienna off! We want Lily and Lilyan together!】 Lilyan took the card and returned it to me. “Haven’t you heard ‘first come, first served’?” he said coldly. The chat exploded with anger towards him and me. I turned to the starlet, my voice calm. “Security. Get her off my set.” 1 Lily froze. So did the live comments. 【What a manipulative bitch! Sienna’s pulling strings just to steal Lilyan from our girl! Does she have no shame?】 【This is what happens when you date a controlling monster. Poor Lilyan, he must be suffering so much with her!】 “I have a contract to be on this show! You can’t just kick me off!” Lily’s chin jutted out defiantly. The chat feed erupted in laughter. 【Yesss, that fighting spirit is so hot! Go, Lily, go! Take down that wicked witch!】 So now I was the wicked witch, was I? A cold smirk touched my lips. “I can. Because the director answers to me.” Just as I said it, the director scurried over, his expression panicked, ready to escort her away. Lily’s face went pale. Her eyes darted to Lilyan. “Lilyan…” she whispered, her voice trembling. He just stared back, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He didn’t seem to understand why this budding starlet was so fixated on him. He turned away, ignoring her completely. 【You’ll regret this, Lilyan!! One day you’ll see how amazing she is!】 【Our girl is so brave! I wouldn’t even have the guts to ask for a celebrity’s autograph, and she just goes for it!】 【That’s why she’s a warrior for love! How else could she melt the ice king’s heart? That snake Sienna doesn’t deserve him!】 Later, during a break, the director approached me, wringing his hands. “Ms. Vance,” he began, his voice dripping with apology, “I’ve already reprimanded Lily for her behavior. She was completely out of line.” He leaned in closer. “But… she was placed here by him. You see my position…” I frowned. “Him?” The director nodded grimly. I pinched the bridge of my nose, a headache beginning to form. “Keep her on a tight leash. If she pulls another stunt like that, I don’t care who he is. I want her gone. Permanently.” “Understood! Absolutely!” He bowed his way out of my trailer. “Wait!” I called after him. “Did the air-freighted package arrive?” “It did, it did! I’ll take you to it right now!” 2 Lilyan and I had kept our relationship under wraps. This show was supposed to be the warm-up for our official debut as a couple. And today, of all days, was his birthday. Lilyan was meticulous about his image. Three months ago, I’d commissioned a one-of-a-kind shirt for him from a legendary brand—a house that once tailored for Napoleon’s own family. It was designed in a vintage European style, a piece of art. But as I walked onto the set, the live comments once again flooded my vision, obscuring everything else. 【OMG! Lily, are you trying to kill him with that look? What man could resist that?!】 【My little vixen! I’d die for you!】 【Lilyan is one lucky bastard…】 There, in the middle of the set, stood Lily. She was swimming in a large man’s dress shirt. The sleeves were so long they swallowed her hands, dangling uselessly at her sides. But the collar had been crudely cut away, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her chest. When she saw Lilyan and me approaching, her eyes skipped right over me and locked onto him. She stuck out her tongue playfully. “Oops,” she giggled. “I think I opened the wrong package…” 【Hahaha, our girl’s little scheme. She knows how to get her man~】 【She’s got guts, I’ll give her that. If only I were that brave! Go, Lily, crush that bitch Sienna!】 【Only the closest people get to open your packages! Lilyan will be begging you to open his from now on~】 【Um… didn’t the other woman, Sienna, custom order that shirt? I remember reading she stayed up for nights personally working on the design…】 【So what if she did? A homewrecker is a homewrecker, no matter how hard she tries!】 The director shot me a look of pure terror. I said nothing. I walked straight up to her and—crack. The sound of my palm connecting with her cheek echoed through the silent studio. The live chat went nuclear. 【HOLY SHIT! THAT BITCH SIENNA DARED TO HIT OUR GIRL!】 Lily crumpled to the floor, a perfect picture of shocked innocence. 【STOP! SIENNA, YOU FUCKING SNAKE, YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS! THE DAY LILYAN COMES CRAWLING BACK TO LILY WILL BE THE DAY YOU DIE!】 Crawling back? Hardly. Not this man. A cruel smile spread across my face as I raised my hand to strike her again. But this time, a strong hand caught my wrist, stopping me mid-air. I whipped my head around to face Lilyan, my brow furrowed. “Feeling sorry for her?” He gently took my hand in his, his thumb stroking the reddened skin of my palm. He brought it to his lips and blew softly on it. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmured, his voice low. Then, his eyes, now glacial, fell upon the girl on the floor. “Let me deal with trash like this.” He shot a look at the director, then wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me away, not sparing Lily another glance. The chat feed was a torrent of fury. 【I’m so pissed I could scream! I know he’s going to grovel for her later, but watching him hurt her like this right now is infuriating!】 【I’m crying. Lilyan, you don’t deserve her fierce, beautiful love!!】 【Calm down, everyone. He’s so devoted to her later in the story. This snake Sienna will be gone soon enough!】 【I can stomach this… for the sweet moments to come…】 I stopped in my tracks. I’m not the kind of person who judges someone based on anonymous whispers and online chatter. But Lily… I couldn’t stand her. And these comments… I loathed them even more. I turned back. “Get Lily kicked off this show!” The comment feed, predictably, lost its collective mind. 【AAAAAAAAH I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! CAN WE PLEASE JUST KILL SIENNA OFF NOW? I NEED MY SWEET ROMANCE FIX!】 【I fucking hate homewreckers! You’re the one who ruined everything, and you have the nerve to act like the victim?!】 【I’m just waiting for the day Sienna gets what she deserves.】 A cold smile played on my lips. They didn’t know me at all. I was born to defy expectations. They wanted to see me and Lilyan torn apart. They wanted to see me fall from grace. Well, I was about to give them the disappointment of a lifetime. 3 Lilyan posted on his social media. It was a picture of the shirt Lily had been wearing, the collar clearly showing a jagged cut. The caption was short and brutal: 【Girlfriend’s gift was ruined. Pissed.】 The internet collectively short-circuited. 【Girlfriend? Wait! Since when are Sienna and the superstar actor together?!】 【Oooooh, so that’s why he suddenly agreed to a reality dating show! He brought his partner along!!】 【So the paparazzi leaks about Lily cutting up Sienna’s shirt were real? HOLY SHIT! Okay, Lily might have more followers, but trying to steal someone’s man is just disgusting!】 I scrolled through the comments, my mood lifting with every post. The live comment feed on my screen, however, was in a full-blown panic. They raged, calling the online fans blind and stupid for not seeing that I was the homewrecker. I scoffed. People who only felt brave enough to ship couples from behind a screen always thought they had the right to dictate reality. With Lilyan leading the charge, public opinion on Lily turned viciously. Her private messages were flooded daily with creative insults aimed at her entire family tree. The internet shows no mercy to a perceived homewrecker. Lily vanished from the public eye. A few days later, the director found me, looking hesitant. I took one look at his face and knew. “This is about Lily, isn’t it?” He nodded frantically. “That gentleman heard you kicked her off the show. He came to see me personally. Said he’s willing to add another ten million to the investment if we can just… smooth things over.” I frowned. “Why is he so damn persistent?” The director forced a smile. “He also said that in all future collaborations with you, Ms. Vance, he’s willing to offer a thirty percent profit share.” That got my attention. After a moment of thought, I nodded. “Fine. Lily can stay. And I’ll handle the PR nightmare.” The director’s eyes lit up. “But,” I added, my tone sharp, “she is benched. She does not participate in any of the show’s interactive segments.” “Understood! Absolutely!” 4 When the new location was ready, I arrived for the first day of shooting, impeccably dressed and made up. But as I stepped onto the set, I saw that all the cameras that were supposed to be on me had been moved. In my place, standing beside Lilyan as his partner, was Lily. I marched over to the director, my voice tight with fury. “Who authorized this change? I told you she was not to participate in the filming!” “I did.” A familiar voice came from behind me. I turned. Lily was clinging to Lilyan’s arm, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Lilyan…” I breathed, my disbelief warring with my anger. “Sienna, I’ve made a decision,” he said, his voice flat. “For this show, Lily will be my partner.” He paused, his gaze cold. “You… should just go home.” I thought I’d misheard him. From the day I first discovered him at the drama academy, funding his rise to superstardom, he had never, not once, dared to speak to me like this. “Why?” The word escaped my lips, a mix of genuine curiosity and shock. He scowled, his expression bordering on disgust. “You brought this on yourself.” He thrust a tablet into my hands. A video was playing. And as I watched, I finally understood what had happened to Lilyan. 5 I had agreed to let Lily stay, but only on the condition that she stay off-camera. After being exposed for wearing my gift, she was blacklisted online. No one would hire her. So, she ended up staying with the crew, doing odd jobs as a production assistant. But a film set is a place where people kiss up and kick down. Many nights, she was left behind long after everyone else, tasked with packing up all the equipment by herself. One such night, as she was finishing up alone, she ran into Lilyan, who had also wrapped late. She was crouched on the floor, and when she looked up, her eyes met his. He stopped, surprised. Her eyes instantly welled with tears, and she scrambled to her feet and ran off. Lilyan just frowned and walked away. From behind a stack of equipment, she peeked out, wiping a tear from her eye, her lips pressed into a tight line. After that, Lilyan started receiving videos from Lily’s friends. Videos of Lily being berated by low-level crew members. Lily on her hands and knees, scrubbing the studio floor. Even one where the set painters “accidentally” splattered paint all over her, and she wasn’t allowed to wash it off. Lilyan’s only reply was a single, dismissive text: 【Her methods are pathetic.】 He’d clawed his way to the top of this industry; he could see through a transparent ploy for pity from a mile away. But then came the final video. In it, Lily was being held down on a bed, her clothes torn, while seven or eight phone cameras were pointed at her. “Stop pretending!” a man’s voice sneered. “You’ve done bed scenes before, haven’t you? Who do you think you are, some big star? You should be grateful for any role you can get! Nobody wants to hire you now!” The damsel in distress act. It’s a classic for a reason. A man’s instinct to play the hero. Lilyan stormed in and lifted her off the bed. Lily collapsed into his arms, sobbing, while the crew members stood by, frozen in terror. And in that moment, he could only think of one person who could be pulling the strings behind the scenes. Me. The live comment feed was ecstatic: 【YES! He finally sees what a monster she is! Now you know how much you fucked up, don’t you, Lilyan?】 【Even though Sienna had nothing to do with what happened to our girl, seeing her get put in her place is SO satisfying.】 【Serves her right for trying to ruin their love!】 I turned my gaze to the director. “He’s an idiot. Are you one too?” The director avoided my eyes. “Ms. Vance, I know you’re a successful businesswoman, but in our world, an A-list actor carries more weight than you do. Besides, Mr. Croft has his own production company.” I laughed out loud. He clearly had no idea that I was the one who funded that company. Lilyan was talented, no doubt. In just a few years, he’d become a major player in the industry. But when people find sudden success, they often start to believe they’re invincible. I looked at Lilyan. He seemed to think he finally had the power to defy me. I didn’t argue. I just grabbed my car keys and turned to leave. “In that case, I wish you all a successful shoot.” Lilyan frowned, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. I walked out to my convertible, but when I tried to unlock it, nothing happened. “So sorry, darling.” Lily sauntered out from the studio, dangling a new key fob. “Lilyan already gave this car to me.”

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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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My sister adopted a merman. A frail, beautiful creature from the Blackwood Registry. And then she threw him at me like a stray she’d lost interest in. So I cared for him. I nurtured him, watched him grow from a boy into a man, his body becoming strong and powerful under my roof. But his eyes were always fixed on my sister, and in them, I saw only hatred for me, the woman he believed had torn them apart. He killed me in my sleep. A brutal, intimate betrayal before he set my entire world on fire. Then, I opened my eyes. And I was reborn. This time, I went straight to the bar. This time, I bought the twin fox Beastkin, the ones with eyes that promised sin and salvation all at once. Two tails, sleek and silver, were already tracing patterns against my skin before the ink was dry on the contract. “Sweet Ava,” one of them purred, his voice a low thrum against my ear. “If you can’t tell us apart, there will be a punishment.” 1 The air in the club was thick with smoke and secrets. I let my gaze drift over the Beastkin attendants—all muscle and curated charm—but my interest didn’t spark until my eyes landed on a booth tucked into the shadows. There they were. A pair of fox twins. They wore tailored server uniforms—crisp white shirts, black silk vests—that seemed more like high fashion than work attire. Fox ears, silver-white and alert, twitched above their dark hair. The top buttons of their shirts were undone, black bowties hanging loose, revealing the elegant lines of their necks. In the dim, hazy light, they were intoxicating. One was the epitome of gentle grace, every movement so fluid he looked like he’d stepped out of a classical painting. The other was all fragile beauty, his eyes wide and faintly red-rimmed, inspiring a desperate, primal urge to protect him. The manager, following my gaze, practically trembled. “Miss Sinclair,” he stammered, his voice hushed. “Anyone but them. They’re—” He never finished. A cool glance from the booth cut him off, and he snapped his mouth shut. The one with the gentle face, the graceful one, picked up a tray of drinks and approached my table. He bowed, a perfect, elegant arc of his body. “Miss,” he said, his voice as smooth as aged whiskey. “My brother and I are in… a difficult situation. Our father’s debts are substantial. Would you consider buying a bottle?” His twin stepped up beside him, his voice a shy whisper. “We’d be willing to do anything for you, ma’am…” I was drowning in their beauty. The question escaped my lips before I could stop it. “How much to buy you both?” 2 Every human, upon coming of age, is granted the right to register a Beastkin companion. It’s a rite of passage, a status symbol, a partnership. I am Ava Sinclair. The Sinclair heiress. I’d turned my back on the family empire to chase my own dream, carving out a name for myself as an actress. I hid my background, wanting to succeed on my own terms. But my face was my fortune, and coupled with a talent for the craft and a carefully curated public image, Hollywood had been good to me. Then my cousin, Audrey, returned from her studies abroad and, in a grand show of familial duty, volunteered to take over the Sinclair Corporation. To prove her maturity and compassion, she registered the weakest, most pitiable merman from the Blackwood Registry, Finn. But then came the performance: she was embarking on a charity mission to rural West Virginia, she’d cried, and it was simply no place to care for such a delicate creature. She begged me, with perfectly crafted tears, to look after him for her. In reality, she was disgusted by him. I, on the other hand, had longed for a Beastkin companion for years. But my father, a man who valued pedigree above all else, always dismissed them as beneath our station. He’d forbidden it. So when Audrey pleaded, I caved. I took Finn in. I never imagined his heart was made of sea-stone. I poured my affection into him. I gave him everything. But his gaze was always distant, fixed on a memory of Audrey. He grew to resent me, convinced I was his jailer. So he murdered me and burned my house to the ground. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day. The day Audrey “saved” Finn. This time, however, I was lounging in an exclusive, underground bar. My phone buzzed incessantly with messages from her. I ignored them. My attention was entirely captivated by the breathtaking fox twins. And a new, audacious idea was beginning to form. 3 My assistant, Chloe, had been pacing anxiously. The moment she heard my key in the lock, she pounced. “Ava, my God! If your father finds out you were in a place like that, he’ll have my hide. He’ll have your hide.” My father had always been strict with me. Other heiresses had cycled through a dozen Beastkin by the time they were my age, but I was expected to remain pristine, untouched. When Chloe saw the two fox Beastkin trailing behind me, she froze. “Who—what are—?” “I found them at the bar,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “They looked pathetic. It was an impulse buy.” Chloe’s jaw dropped. The world had changed, and human-Beastkin relations were governed by strict protocols. The only legal way to acquire a companion was through an official, sanctioned Registry. The only exception was the mysterious Hale family. The Fox Kin. They ran the largest casinos in the country, their power absolute and untouchable. The only reason Chloe had even agreed to let me go to that bar was because it was Hale territory—a neutral ground where the Beastkin attendants were famously off-limits, their contracts strictly for serving drinks and providing conversation. On-site service, let alone a permanent sale, was unheard of. And yet, here I was, with two of the most stunning Fox Kin I had ever seen. I misinterpreted Chloe’s gaping shock, assuming she was just terrified of my father’s wrath. I patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I was discreet. No one saw me.” One of the fox’s tails, a magnificent brush of silver fur, swayed near my hand. I gave it a playful squeeze and found the texture addictive. “Besides,” I added, my voice light, “it’s just a bit of fun. It’s not like I’d ever choose them as my official companions.” Behind me, where I couldn’t see them, two pairs of identical eyes narrowed, and a dangerous current passed between them. 4 To celebrate my new acquisitions, I’d not only dropped a small fortune on the bar’s most expensive champagne but had also, in a fit of bravado, drunk far too much of it. My tolerance for alcohol was notoriously low. One moment I was lucid, the next, the world was tilting on its axis. A strange heat was coiling in my stomach. I ignored it, my voice a lazy murmur. “Alright, that’s enough for tonight. I’m going to bed.” Chloe nodded, moving to help me to my room, but a figure smoothly intercepted her. It was the gentler twin, the one who moved like poetry. Rhys. He gave Chloe a small, polite nod, his voice soft but carrying an authority that was impossible to refuse. “Miss Ava drank so much because of my brother and me. It’s only right that we take care of her.” The other twin, Liam, nodded eagerly, his pretty face a mask of concern. “You’ve had a long night too, Chloe. We can handle it from here.” Chloe looked into Liam’s wide, misty fox eyes and, to her own apparent surprise, found herself nodding. She turned and walked out of my penthouse like a woman in a trance. In my room, the world was a blur. I was lying on the cool silk of my bedsheets, my head spinning, sleep refusing to come. Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the room in shades of silver and black. My phone on the nightstand lit up, the opening chords of a ringtone about to shatter the quiet. A long, elegant hand shot out and silenced it before the first note could sound. Another hand took the phone and simply turned it off. A tongue, impossibly warm and slightly rough, like a cat’s, traced a line across the back of my hand, sending a shiver through me. In the haze, I felt someone lift my foot. Fingers gently worked at the buckle of my red stiletto. Click. The shoe fell to the floor. A furry tail coiled around my calf. My hand instinctively reached out and grasped it. The tail paused for a fraction of a second, then pressed more insistently into my palm, the fur like silk. It was ticklish. As my consciousness finally began to fade, a voice whispered in my ear, a velvet trap. “Ava. Tell me… whose tail is this? Guess wrong, and you’ll have to be punished.” 5 I woke to a splitting headache. A glass of water was being held to my lips. It was Liam. His big, expressive eyes blinked at me, the corners of his mouth turned up in a sweet, shy smile. He was still wearing last night’s uniform, the black and white fabric now hopelessly rumpled. He looked utterly devoted. “Th-thank you,” I managed, my voice hoarse. His gaze was intense, unwavering, as he watched me drink. His fluffy tail gave a happy little twitch. My cheeks grew warm under his scrutiny, and I took another long sip of water to hide my blush. The bedroom door opened silently. Rhys entered, carrying a tray laden with a steaming, fragrant breakfast. He placed it on a small table near the bed. It was uncanny how they could share the same face, yet project such different auras. Where Liam was all soft vulnerability, Rhys carried himself with a scholarly elegance. His dark hair fell casually across his forehead, and he wore a pair of thin, silver-rimmed glasses. A single, dark blue gem glittered in his earlobe. But if you looked closely, you could see a razor-sharp intelligence in his eyes, a glint of steel beneath the gentle exterior. The night I bought them, I’d demanded their files from the bar manager. The report was simple: Ordinary. Clean. Pitiful. Two brothers orphaned by their father’s gambling addiction, sold to the bar to pay his debts. It was the perfect backstory. So perfect that I never once suspected it was a lie, the first move in a game I didn’t even know I was playing. Rhys knelt gracefully, his movements fluid and natural, and slipped a pair of silk slippers onto my feet. At the same time, Liam pulled out the chair at the breakfast table for me, his expression earnest. Suddenly, a commotion erupted from downstairs. A crash, followed by shouting. In perfect unison, both twins frowned. I walked out of my room and onto the second-floor landing, looking down into the grand foyer. A merman, his form not yet fully matured, was thrashing against the grip of my household staff, roaring. Ugly wounds on his torso were still weeping blood, a gruesome sight. Then, he must have caught my scent. The raging stopped. He looked up, his reddened eyes locking onto mine with a terrifying intensity, as if he wanted to devour me whole. But when he spoke, his voice was laced with a broken, wounded betrayal. “Ava Sinclair,” Finn snarled. “Why didn’t you come for me yesterday?” 6 In that instant, I knew. He’d come back, too. Finn was reborn. The phantom agony of a blade sliding between my ribs flared in my memory, hot and sharp. I clenched my fists, forcing down the wave of hatred. I turned away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I gestured to my head of household, Arthur. “See to it that I never have to see an unknown Beastkin on my property again.” Arthur bowed. “At once, Miss Sinclair.” He was about to signal the security team, but something in my words—unknown Beastkin—seemed to snap Finn’s last thread of control. With a furious roar, he slammed his powerful tail against the marble floor. “You made me a promise!” he bellowed, his voice cracking with rage. “You promised you’d be with me forever!” His wild eyes caught sight of the two elegant foxes standing just behind me. His fury escalated. He lunged, not at me, but at a nearby pedestal, swiping a priceless Sèvres porcelain vase to the floor. It shattered, sending razor-sharp fragments flying. Several pieces embedded themselves in his tail, adding fresh wounds to the old ones. “Was it for them?” he spat, venom dripping from every word. “Did you leave me to rot at the Registry so you could buy these two filthy foxes?” Even in his weakened state, the primal strength of a merman was formidable. It took more than a dozen of my best security guards to finally subdue him. I didn’t spare him another glance. I turned and walked back into my room, shutting the door on the chaos. The sounds from the foyer gradually faded until there was only silence. I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillows. I couldn’t understand it. I just couldn’t. In my first life, I had given him everything, loved him so completely. How could he have been so cruel? How could he have killed me without a second thought? Liam started to move toward me, a comforting word on his lips, but Rhys put a hand on his arm, shaking his head slightly. So they just stood there, my two beautiful foxes, silent sentinels in my quiet grief. Two days later, there was another visitor. I was lounging in a silk robe when Arthur’s respectful voice came through the door. “Miss Sinclair, your cousin, Miss Audrey, is here.” 7 Audrey had officially registered Finn at the Blackwood Registry. But then, the unthinkable had happened. The little investment she’d made for her public image, the little sister she used as a dumping ground, had gone silent. Dozens of texts and calls had gone unanswered. To make matters worse, that ungrateful merman had somehow escaped his holding pen. Tracking him down would cost time, money, and effort—resources she couldn’t spare, not when she had her own life to live. And that was before considering his volatile temper and delicate constitution. This whole affair had become a PR nightmare waiting to happen. She needed her patsy. Left with no other choice, Audrey had reluctantly come to my door. What she wasn’t prepared for was the sight of me, her supposedly pure and obedient little cousin, draped languidly across the laps of two stunningly handsome fox twins. If she looked closely, she could see the faint, star-like scatter of red marks on the back of my hand and peeking above the collar of my robe. … I knew exactly why she was here. But I was far too comfortable, far too content in the arms of my new companions, to be bothered with her problems. There had been a time, in my past life, when things between Finn and me had started to thaw. A brief, hopeful period. Then Audrey had stopped by my villa, ostensibly to visit him. That very night, Finn was drugged. He went into a feverish, violent rut, and I, abiding by my father’s strict rules, refused to touch him. I spent the entire night and the following day by the side of the cold bathtub, replacing the cool water on his skin, talking him through the agony. Afterward, he accused me of drugging him myself out of jealousy, then playing the saint to mock him. It wasn’t until the night before he killed me that I found it. Tucked away in a forgotten corner of the guest room Audrey always used, I found the empty packet of the very same aphrodisiac. Thinking of her smiling, treacherous face made my stomach turn. I didn’t even have the energy to pretend anymore. My voice was flat, dripping with contempt. “Spit it out, Audrey. I don’t have all day.” 8 Audrey froze for a second, the crocodile tears she’d been summoning drying up before they could fall. She had never heard her sweet, pliable cousin speak to her with such open hostility. But she was a born actress. She recovered instantly. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with manufactured vulnerability. “Ava, darling… I rescued a merman from the Registry, a poor, traumatized soul. But with my charity mission in the mountains… taking him with me would be cruel. It could aggravate his injuries. I heard… I heard he might have accidentally ended up at your villa the other night…” After Arthur’s men had subdued Finn, I’d had him delivered directly to Audrey’s doorstep. A few cuts and bruises were nothing to a Beastkin. If he was so devoted to her, then fine. I would be the good Samaritan and let him shatter his own illusions against the reality of her cold indifference. “I’m a very busy woman, Audrey,” I said, leaning back into Rhys’s solid chest. “Why would I have time to look after someone else’s companion?” The coffee table was covered in magazines, my face gracing half of them. I was an A-list star, a brand unto myself. My net worth eclipsed anything Audrey could ever hope to achieve. “But besides you and Uncle, I have no other family,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I don’t know who else to turn to.” “Then take him with you,” I suggested, my tone deceptively sweet. “I’m sure your devoted merman would be absolutely thrilled.” I caught a glimpse of a pair of wide, innocent eyes peering from behind the doorway. Finn. I couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “Besides,” I purred, running a hand through Liam’s silky hair. “I already have two of my own. I can’t have them getting jealous, now can I?” I beckoned with my finger. Liam, who had been waiting in the wings, immediately scampered over. He knelt on the plush rug at my feet, rubbing his face against my hand like a contented cat. The fur of his silver-white ears was exquisitely soft. “Oh, and by the way,” I added. Audrey’s face flickered with hope, thinking I was about to relent. “Your companion broke my vase. You’ll be paying for it.” In the end, Audrey left with a face like thunder, her credit cards several million dollars lighter. As she walked out the door, Rhys’s gaze followed her. The look in his eyes was so cold, so utterly devoid of warmth, that a shiver of pure dread snaked down Audrey’s spine. 9 With Audrey and Finn out of my hair, the next two days were a blissful escape. It turned out that living with people whose worlds revolved entirely around you was incredibly good for the soul. The only downside was when they announced they had to leave for a while. “The casino manager contacted our family,” Rhys explained, his voice calm and mature as he adjusted his glasses. “We have to go back and deal with the final settlement of our father’s debts.” Unlike Liam, Rhys had a natural reserve. He was tall and slender, and his posture created an aura of elegant distance. He also rarely let his ears or tail show. Except at night. Two small suitcases were already packed and waiting by the door. All they needed was my permission. “If you need assistance, I can send Arthur to handle it for you,” I offered. Liam pressed closer, nuzzling against my side like an affectionate puppy. “Thank you, sweet Ava, but my brother and I can manage this.” “Alright, then. Be safe.” Liam’s ears drooped. He hesitated for a long moment before pressing a small, fluffy object into my palm. It was a keychain, fashioned into the shape of a miniature fox tail. “I made this from my own tail fur,” he whispered, his cheeks pink. “If you miss me, you can touch it.” I gave the tiny tail a playful squeeze. In front of me, Liam let out a soft whimper, his blush deepening. Rhys, standing behind him with his arms crossed, simply raised an eyebrow. Defeated, Liam sighed and reluctantly pulled a second, identical keychain from his pocket. This one carried Rhys’s signature scent, a clean, cool fragrance like sandalwood. 10 With Rhys and Liam gone, the penthouse felt unnervingly quiet. Lonely. I spent the entire day toying with the fox tail keychains. They were small but exquisitely made. That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Suddenly, a dark shape appeared at my window. A head of messy dark hair popped into view. It was Liam, looking at me with pleading, puppy-dog eyes. “Sweet Ava,” he whispered, pressing his face against the glass. “Can I please sleep with you tonight? Secretly?” It turned out that Rhys was the pillar of their small family, the one who handled all the serious business. Liam, left with nothing to do, was bored out of his mind. So he’d started a new routine: sneaking over to my place every night and slipping back home before dawn. We made a pact to keep it our little secret from Rhys. A few days later, sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the music room. I was leaning against the grand piano, my chin propped on my hand, listening to the fox boy play. The melody that flowed from his fingertips was beautiful and poignant, a love song just for me. When the final note faded, he rose from the bench, leaned in, and brushed his lips against mine. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at me, his eyes full of a desperate, earnest hope. “Ava,” he breathed, asking the question that seemed to consume him. “You like me best, right? Even if… even if I only have one tail?” He was like a child, always so needy for validation, so jealous of his brother. I smiled, a slow, indulgent curve of my lips, and murmured the easy lie. “Of course.” 11 Out of the blue, I received an offer that sent shockwaves through the industry. The ultra-exclusive luxury brand owned by the Hale family—the mysterious Fox Kin—wanted me to be their new global ambassador. This was unheard of. The Hale family, legend said, was protected by an ancient spirit of their bloodline, which was the source of their incredible luck and power. The current patriarch was a bona fide genius who had cornered the market in nearly every major industry in the country. Their foray into luxury goods was recent, but they operated on a level so far above the rest that they’d never bothered with celebrity endorsements. This was an opportunity I couldn’t refuse. The campaign was being shot in Paris, which meant Liam and I wouldn’t be able to see each other for a few days. On his last night, he was impossibly clingy, a storm of hurt and resentment brewing in his expressive eyes. I treated it like a childish tantrum, soothing him with patient reassurances before boarding the plane the next morning. The shoot was flawless. The makeup artists and stylists worked their magic, amplifying my features until I was something otherworldly. I came alive in front of the camera, a creature born for the spotlight. The photographer couldn’t stop raving. When we wrapped, my team went to exchange pleasantries with the brand executives. The shoes they’d put me in were exquisite torture, but I didn’t want to complain on someone else’s set. I excused myself to the restroom for a moment of relief. I kicked off the heels, leaving them in a corner, and padded barefoot across the cool marble floor. The sound of running water filled the opulent space. Suddenly, a pair of hands circled my waist from behind. My body was pulled back against a hard chest, and I was lifted effortlessly onto the marble countertop. For a terrifying second, my mind flashed with tabloid headlines of robberies and murders. A cold sweat broke out on my back. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened my mouth to scream. Then a familiar, cool voice cut through my panic. “Miss Sinclair,” he said. “It’s me.” 12 “Rhys?” He hummed in affirmation. I stared at him, bewildered. “What are you doing here?” He shifted me on the counter so I was facing him. Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he produced a pair of stunning red stilettos. After gently wiping the dust from the soles of my feet, he knelt and buckled them on. They fit like they were made for me. Impossibly comfortable. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the brand’s original shoes—the spring season’s limited-edition, sold-out-everywhere shoes—directly into the trash can. My jaw dropped. “Those were the spring limited edition!” Even I would have felt a pang of regret throwing away something so expensive, and Rhys was supposed to have a gambling-addicted father to worry about. “But they were causing you discomfort,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. He rose to his full height and stepped closer, cupping my face in his left hand. His thumb traced the outline of my lips. And then he kissed me. It was nothing like Liam’s hesitant, gentle kisses. This was a kiss of possession, of claiming. As he kissed me, a cascade of silver fur erupted behind him. One tail, then two, then three… eight. Eight magnificent, silver-white tails fanned out, each moving with a life of its own. They were like sentient appendages of silk and steel. Two coiled around my wrists, pinning them to the counter. Two more wrapped around my ankles. Others slid beneath the hem of my dress, tracing patterns on my skin. Two of the most mischievous ones burrowed into my lap, demanding attention. My legs, pressed against his, felt a strange, hard pressure against my calf that made me flinch. I kicked my feet restlessly, my voice a trembling mess. “Rhys—wait, something’s not—it’s uncomfortable—” He silenced me by moving his lips to my neck, his touch sending a jolt of lightning through my system. I went rigid, my mind short-circuiting. The fox boy, sensing my reaction, seemed pleased. His tails moved with even more confidence. Then he lifted his head, his dark eyes boring into mine, and he asked the question. “Me or Liam,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Who will you choose, Ava?”

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Before dinner, my husband suddenly asked, “What if we stop loving each other? Whether it’s because of someone else, or just… we fall out of love. What happens to us?” I hesitated for a long time. “Maybe divorce is the best answer. You could find someone else.” The truth was, I already knew. I knew about his unusual feelings for that other girl. And I’d already heard him tell her: “Don’t cry. We’ll have a future.” 1 He put his fork down. His face went hard. After a long moment, he forced a laugh. “Tess, I was just kidding.” It wasn’t a joke. I knew. I had known his love. Which is how I knew, with certainty, that what he felt for that girl was real. Earlier today, at the hospital. The doctor, who had been gruff and impatient, read my report and his whole demeanor changed. He lowered his voice. “Don’t be scared. It’s not late-stage. With aggressive treatment, this is manageable.” I was walking out with the diagnosis when I saw them. Liam’s arm was injured. The girl was looking at him, her eyes red with pain. “Why did I have to meet you so late? I can’t even take care of you properly.” Liam looked flustered. Blood was seeping through the new bandage on his arm. He said, “Don’t cry. I’ll give you a future.” The words hung in the air. He froze, as if he regretted saying them. But she believed him. Her nose was red. She looked up at him. “Really?” Liam just frowned. He didn’t speak. I didn’t stay to watch the rest. I know Liam. I know his boundaries. As long as he was married to me, his body wouldn’t cross the line. But his heart. I couldn’t control his heart. 2 I wanted to know. What kind of girl was she? What made her better than me in his eyes? I found her profile through his phone. I had to see for myself. I had to see the woman who had so easily destroyed eight years of my life. We survived long-distance. We survived the pandemic. We survived being broke. But we were defeated by a “better girl.” I found her on the university campus. She was exactly what you’d expect. Young, vibrant. An old woman was struggling to collect cans, her back bent. The plastic bag ripped, and empty bottles scattered across the pavement. The girl, in a cream-colored coat, ran over and helped her pick up every single one. She helped the woman carry the heavy bag all the way to the campus recycling center. I followed, like a stalker. Suddenly, footsteps rushed up behind me. A figure blocked my view. I looked up. Liam. His arms were spread, shielding the girl from me, his lips trembling. “Tess, it’s not her fault…” Not her fault. Then whose fault was it? Mine? The girl finally noticed me. She looked over, startled. Our eyes met. She quickly looked away. 3 In a coffee shop. Liam sat across from me, his eyes full of pain. He said, “Tess, I…” He couldn’t continue. I wanted to know, too. Now that I’d found out, what would he choose? Would he end it with the “better girl”? Or would he end it with me? He opened his mouth, and finally, the words came out, strained. “Tess, I… I don’t think I love you anymore.” I didn’t say anything. But my body betrayed me. My eyes burned. He panicked. “Don’t cry…” He just stared at me for a long time before pushing the napkin holder across the table. He let out a breath, like a man relieved of a heavy weight. “Tess, we got together when we were eighteen. It’s been eight years… “I know I’m an asshole. I’m scum. “But Tess… after this long, my love for you… it’s turned into something else. It’s family. “Neither of us can fight that.” I asked him, “And her?” Liam was silent. “Maybe that will change, too. “But… I don’t want to lie to you right now…” He looked up, his voice bitter. “I haven’t done anything… physical. If you want, we can stay married. “But… all I have left to give you is responsibility. And the rest of my time.” How could I describe that feeling? Sadness? Despair? I was a prisoner, drowning. I knew I was going to die, but I had to keep my eyes open and just… wait. We sat in silence. Finally, I spoke. “Let’s schedule a time. We’ll file for divorce.” 4 It was evening when I left the cafe. The sunset was a violent, blinding red. Across the street, someone was hovering. Liam saw her instantly and sprinted over. The girl flinched, her face pale. Liam’s voice was sharp. “Nina, what are you doing here? “I told you to go back to your dorm. Have you been waiting this whole time?” Nina glanced at me, her eyes full of apology. She looked down at her shoes. “I… I was worried about you…” His expression melted. “Don’t overthink it.” Suddenly… An indescribable bitterness flooded my chest. I really thought there was nothing left that could possibly hurt me. 5 “Don’t overthink it.” That’s what he said to me at the bus station, right after graduation. I was sobbing, terrified of the separation. Everyone said graduation equals a breakup. Who could guarantee a long-distance relationship? He turned and hugged me tight. “Tess, don’t overthink it. As soon as I’m settled, I’ll come see you.” The same station. He took a bus north. I took one south. I was in a second-tier city. My first birthday alone, he promised he’d be there. He wasn’t. At 12:37 AM. A knock on my apartment door. He burst in, breathless, and grabbed me. “I tried so hard to make it,” he panted, “but I’m still late.” I found out later he’d spent his last dollar on the bus ticket. He couldn’t afford a cab from the station. He walked. My apartment was eight miles from the bus station. I thought, this is my life. It has disappointments, but the happy endings will come, even if they’re late. I was wrong.

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