Category: English

I was bound to an Evil Sidekick System, but I’m a cat. The system sighed. [Whatever, the plot’s already a mess. Go seduce the male lead.] By day, he was unmoved: “It’s just a cat.” When no one was looking, he’d squat down: “Who’s my widdle fuzzy-wuzzy!!!” The system told me I had to leave, play the “White Moonlight” role. I had to wait for the male lead to get with the substitute female lead, then reappear. The three-year-timer went off. I cracked my claws. For cat’s sake. Let’s see what this “substitute” is all about. 1 When the so-called male lead appeared, I strolled over, rubbed against his jeans, and gave his ankle a little tail-curl. “Meow.” Then, I executed a perfect 10/10 flop onto the pavement. Human. Look at me. I dare you to feel nothing. Gasps erupted around us. “Oh my god, oh my god!” “Duchess! She’s so friendly!” “That is a quality cat. A true gentle-kitty.” Every time I meowed, a human would meow back. The guy next to the male lead looked jealous. “Liam, what’d you do? Duchess is all over you.” Anyone else would have been a puddle on the ground, phone out, snapping pictures. But Liam, unused to the attention, just took a step back. His voice was flat. “I don’t know. I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving.” And he just… left. I stared at his retreating back. Wait. He… he just walked away?? 2 I had a reason for approaching Liam. I was happily employed in the “Operation: Mooch from Naive College Students” program. They named me Duchess because my “Cat Morals” were impeccable. Life was good, except for one small annoyance: I hadn’t heard a normal human voice in months. It was all baby talk. “Who’s a widdle kitty-witty? Who’s my precious baby? Yeeeees.” And the meowing. So much meowing. Not from me. From them. Still, I was set. I was going to be the beloved campus cat for life. Until this “Evil Sidekick System” thing bound itself to me. A second later, it went stiff. [Wait. Why are you a cat?] [My data said to bind with the most famous female on campus! I was supposed to get the freakin’ Campus Belle!] I flicked my tail. Old-school system. These days, the campus belle has nothing on the campus cat. It tried again, cautiously: [Um. Meow? Would you be interested in a side hustle? Great benefits.] I was confused. [A side what?] The system realized it couldn’t unbind. It started to short-circuit, sobbing about how it “only bound the wrong person, it wasn’t a bad system,” and then it started humming “Mr. Brightside.” I took pity on it and allowed it to pet me, hoping it would shut up. It petted me and cried at the same time. So annoying. [Fine,] I finally hissed. [What do you want? What’s in it for me?] It brightened. [If you complete the mission… I can make you human!] Me: [So you can’t help me at all? Useless. And why would I want to be human?] System: [Uh… you can eat more stuff? And you live longer? Like, 80 or 90 years!] I was unimpressed. [Eat more ‘stuff’ like ‘crow’? Live longer to ‘pay bills’? No thanks. What’s the job?] It went quiet. [Okay, I have an idea. The plot’s weird anyway. Just… go seduce the male lead.] It braced for rejection. I just blinked. [That’s it?] So, I swaggered over. And he walked right past me. Fine, human. You’ve successfully piqued my interest. 3 It was dark when Liam finally returned to his dorm. He fumbled his keys, and they slipped, rattling down a storm drain. He squatted by the curb, staring into the abyss. “A magnet… I need to find a magnet…” This was my chance. I trotted up next to him, and he immediately scooped me up. Liam smirked. “Cats like watching drama, huh?” I gave him a warning hiss. Put me down. He got the message. “Fine, you little brat.” You’re the brat. I ignored him, stuck a paw through the grate, hooked the keyring with one claw, and flicked it out onto the sidewalk. Liam looked genuinely shocked. “Are all cats this smart?” I puffed out my chest. That’s right, human. Bet you want to pet me now, don’t you? A quiet laugh. “Smug little thing.” He gently rubbed my head. “Thanks,” he said, “but I can’t get too close.” “If I get scratched, I’d need a rabies shot.” “And… I can’t afford one.” I tilted my head. “Mrrow?” Rabies? From a cat scratch? I asked the system. [He’s a poor student. Works three jobs to cover tuition and living expenses. He’s not kidding. A rabies shot would wreck his budget.] Me: [What does that have to do with anything?] System: […Right, you’re a cat. It’s a vaccine humans get if they’re bitten or scratched by an animal, just in case.] Me: [Ugh. Pathetic male lead. Can’t even handle one scratch.] Humans. So fragile. [So I just have to not scratch him?] Right. I could work with that. 4 My campaign began. His attitude softened day by day. It went from: “Don’t come over here.” To: “I said don’t come over.” To: “Fine, come over.” To: “Come here.” To: “Here.” Three months later, he could still say (publicly): “It’s just a cat.” But at night, when no one was around, he’d drop his bag, squat down, and whisper-shout: “MY LITTLE FLUFF-NUGGET!” I didn’t even have to do anything anymore. Me: [Literally just breathing.] Liam: [Such skill! Such calculated affection!] System: [This guy’s personality switch is giving me whiplash.] I purred on his lap, flicking my tail. [What? You mean this isn’t a universal talent?] System: [I’m starting to think Cleopatra’s secret weapon wasn’t her beauty. It was just a cat.] 5 Liam started bringing me food. He’d seen other students give me the fancy stuff—Sheba, Tiki Cat. He apologized for only bringing me a bag of Meow Mix. Me: [Awesome. Second dinner.] Today, he brought a Churu tube. I loved this stuff. I buried my face in it. Liam, ever frugal, started squeezing the tube from the bottom, rolling it up like toothpaste to get every last drop. He squeezed a little too hard. BONK. The tube hit me right in the face. I froze. He hit me. Liam froze, too. He looked horrified. Then, he looked at the tube, wound up, and slapped it. “Bad tube!” he hissed. “Bad!” I cautiously leaned in again. He went back to squeezing. BONK. He hit me again. He was still hitting me. This human is trying to murder me with a meat-paste delivery system. I’d had enough. I gave him the BAP-BAP-BAP right on his face. How dare you, sir. I am not to be trifled with. It was the first time I’d hit him. He just stared, then said quietly, “When a cat slaps you… the first thing you feel is the toe beans.” Me: [?] I hissed and stalked off. I felt a little bad. I’d kept my claws in, but if humans were really that fragile, had I broken him? The next day, he wasn’t there. The day after, I waited by his dorm. His roommates left for class. No Liam. I panicked. [System! Did I kill him?!] System: [The odds of death-by-toe-bean are low… but not zero? Hold on, he’s not dead.] I followed his scent, slipped through a gap in his dorm’s window screen, and found him. He was just in bed. Oh. Sleeping. I hopped up and nudged him. Hey. My bad about the BAP-BAP. Wake up, pet me, and accept my apology. He didn’t move. I walked up to his face and sniffed. You’re… really warm today. And you smell… bitter.

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In the eighth year of my marriage to Adrian Monroe, he brought his little songbird home. That night, with my own two hands, I pushed the woman down the stairs. To punish me for my “unreasonable” fit of jealousy, Adrian pinned me to the floor, his foot on my back. “I told you,” he hissed, “don’t you ever touch her.” “If you can’t learn to behave, you can crawl back to the gutter you came from.” In the dead of night, I was forced onto a private jet, not even allowed a single glance at my newborn son. Three years passed before Adrian Monroe’s call finally reached my new husband. “The loan I took from your organization… could I have a little more time to liquidate some assets? I swear I’ll pay it back this time.” Hanging up, I toyed with the knife in my hand and glanced at Liam. “Time to go home and collect a debt?” I asked with a slow smile. “That’s my specialty.” … The moment I stepped off the plane, I went straight to the old Monroe estate. A woman was sobbing in the dimly lit living room. “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have a death wish? How dare you lay a hand on the lady of the Monroe house!” Her voice was shrill with panic. “Let me go right now if you want to live…” Clad in a crimson dress, I walked toward her, my heels clicking softly on the marble floor. I slipped off my sunglasses. The woman, Isabelle, looked up, her expression a mixture of shock and derision. “Well, well. If it isn’t my dear predecessor,” she sneered. “Couldn’t make it on your own overseas? Decided to come crawling back?” “Here,” she commanded, “come untie me. The position of Mrs. Monroe is obviously filled, but for saving me, I might just offer you a job as a maid.” I obediently walked over and untied the ropes. She tilted her chin up, her eyes dripping with contempt, and held out a slender hand, expecting me to help her up. When I didn’t move, she sighed, her voice laced with lazy arrogance. “Still so clueless, aren’t you?” She never finished the sentence. I grabbed her hand and slammed it down on the edge of the heavy oak table. With a sickening crack, Isabelle crumpled to the floor, screaming in agony. “Isabelle, it seems I was too gentle with you three years ago,” I murmured, crouching down beside her. “How about we make up for it today?” Watching her face contort in pain, the knot of rage in my chest finally began to unwind. “What are you screaming for, Miss Isabelle? Isn’t it perfectly natural for a master to discipline a disobedient dog?” I grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her across the floor, a bright, genuine smile on my face. “I hear Adrian took very good care of these legs after your little fall down the stairs,” I said conversationally. “How about we break them again, just for old time’s sake?” I picked up a heavy porcelain vase from a nearby table. Isabelle, through gritted teeth, spat at me. “Sienna, you’re a goddamn lunatic.” “Adrian loves me! He’ll never let you get away with this!” Her threat only made me laugh harder, a wild, unhinged sound. “That’s right! I am a lunatic. I have been for three years now. And there’s nothing I enjoy more than destroying the things Adrian Monroe loves.” My grip loosened, and the vase plummeted. The sound I’d been longing to hear was just a moment away. “Sienna! Adrian will kill you for this!” A hand shot out and caught the vase just inches from her shins. Isabelle burst into tears of relief, her voice raw with terror as she shrieked at the man who had just saved her. “Adrian! Adrian, help me! Sienna’s trying to kill me!” Adrian tossed the vase aside and scooped Isabelle into his arms, gently placing her on the sofa. Then, he turned to me, his handsome features twisted with rage. He stalked forward and slammed me back against the table. “Sienna. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” he growled, his voice dangerously low. “Violence doesn’t suit you. You know that.” I met his gaze, those deep, intoxicating eyes that had once been my world, and instinctively tried to pull away. His grip on me only tightened, his voice turning to ice. “I sent you away to learn how to be a proper wife and mother. Don’t stray from that path.” “Understand?” he whispered. On his cue, the same bodyguards who had thrown me on that plane three years ago filed into the room, armed with long batons. They stood before me, a silent, menacing wall. Adrian gestured with a finger, and they turned their backs to us. “Sienna, have you learned how to apologize yet?” He dragged me in front of Isabelle, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Apologize to Isabelle. Keep apologizing until she forgives you.” His face was a mask of cold fury. There was no trace of affection, no hint of longing after three years apart. “Or I have a thousand ways to make you pay.” Isabelle’s face was ashen. Seeing my silence, Adrian’s patience wore thin. He forced me to my knees, his hands pressing down on my shoulders with crushing force, just like he had three years ago. Adrian had fallen in love with a ballerina. He brought her into our home without a second thought. I stood by the bed in the guest room, my eyes red-rimmed, and demanded an explanation. Adrian just held the scantily clad Isabelle tighter. “Isabelle is new here. She’s afraid to sleep alone.” “As Mrs. Monroe, you should know some basic courtesy. Show some grace.” “Sienna, it’s been eight years. Anyone would get tired.” “You have a child now. Focus on being a mother. Don’t worry, the title of Mrs. Monroe is still yours, and the family fortune will go to our son.” “Just leave Isabelle alone, and we’ll have no problems.” But the love of my youth had been a burning inferno, and I would not allow it to be extinguished. I was convinced that no matter how much of a scene I made, I would be the one to win in the end. So I ignored his warnings. With cold determination, I pushed Isabelle down the grand staircase. The air filled with the coppery scent of blood and her terrified screams. “Adrian, save me! Save our baby!” “Adrian, my legs! The pain!” That night, Isabelle lost her baby and the use of her legs. Her screams of agony echoed through the hospital for what felt like an eternity. She paid a price. But the pain I endured was a hundred times worse. In my own hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic making my breath catch, Adrian threw a thick stack of divorce papers at my face. “Divorce? In your dreams, Adrian. I refuse.” He clicked a pen and crouched down, his voice dangerously soft. “Sienna, you don’t have a choice in the matter anymore. You intentionally caused grievous harm. Isabelle is being generous. She’s willing to sign a letter of forgiveness, on the condition that you sign these papers.” “Think about it, Sienna,” he whispered, his voice a cruel caress. “Our son can’t have a murderer for a mother, can he?” … Back then, Adrian used our son to control me. But now, he had no leverage left. I wrenched free from his grip and threw my arms around his neck, my voice a seductive whisper in his ear. “Adrian, did you miss me?” “Because these last three years, I’ve been thinking about you every single second.” Sensing a shift in my demeanor, his expression softened slightly. “I missed you too, Sienna. It’s good to have you back. Just apologize to Isabelle, and we can start over.” My eyes welled with tears as I rested my head on his chest, my voice choked with emotion. “Do I really have to apologize?” “Maybe… I can apologize in a different way.” Adrian smiled down at me. The next second, he felt a warm, wet sensation on his wrist. I pulled out a silk handkerchief and calmly wiped the blood from the blade of a small, sharp knife. “Adrian, wasn’t this the hand you used to force me to sign those papers?” “So? Do you like my apology?” The bodyguards surged forward, but Adrian barked at them. “All of you, get out! How much trouble can one woman cause?” He quickly ripped a strip from his shirt and tied it around his bleeding wrist, his voice trembling with a mixture of pain and excitement. “Sienna, it seems you learned a few new tricks overseas. Come on, show me what other surprises you have for me.” Before I could react, he lunged, snatching the knife from my hand. He leaned in close, his breath hot on my skin. “You know, Sienna, I find this new version of you… fascinating. Why don’t you play a little game with me? If you entertain me enough, I might just consider letting you go.” From the sofa, Isabelle, clutching her broken hand, shrieked at me. “Sienna! Three years ago, you pushed me down those stairs! The doctors said I could never have children again! Adrian told me not to hold a grudge against a madwoman, but why? Why won’t you just leave me alone?” “Let me tell you something, Sienna! Adrian is my husband now! If you dare try to seduce him, I won’t show you any mercy! If I hadn’t signed that forgiveness letter, you’d be rotting in prison right now!” The girl who once did nothing but cry in Adrian’s arms was now spitting threats with righteous indignation. I shoved Adrian away, my laughter echoing through the room. “Isabelle, I don’t need your forgiveness.” I snatched the knife back from the floor and, in a flash, plunged it into her other hand, pinning it to the sofa cushion before slowly dragging the blade across her skin. A spray of crimson arced through the air. I turned and met Adrian’s panicked eyes. He shoved me to the ground and rushed to Isabelle’s side, scooping her up. “Isabelle, don’t be scared. I’m taking you to the hospital.” As he carried her out, he threw a command over his shoulder to the bodyguards. “Don’t hurt her. Just bring her to me. Alive.” Adrian waited outside the emergency room for ten agonizing hours, refusing to eat or drink. And for ten hours, I was bound to a chair right beside him. His breaking point came when a nurse handed him a critical condition notice. His fury finally exploded.

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I spent three years following a D-list idol. After I edited a fancam that hit a million likes, he finally blew up overnight. Excited, I flew out to his fan meet-and-greet. By chance, I overheard a conversation between him and his manager backstage. “That fan site girl is here looking for credit again? Just because she cut a few viral clips, she thinks she’s some kind of hero!” “The video went viral because my talent is undeniable. What does she have to do with it?” Hearing this, I turned around, created a burner account, and spent the night sending his rival’s best performance trending up the charts. The comments section was instantly overrun by fans from all sides. “God-tier editor! My fave needs you too!” “Liam, you better hold onto this fan for dear life!” After I dropped several viral videos in a row, the D-list idol couldn’t sit still anymore. His studio DM’d me that night: “If you come back, we’ll send you a few signed autographs.” I sneered. Sorry, but your rival has already delivered his own brother to my doorstep! 1 “If it wasn’t for my talent being so strong, what would she have to do with it?” Talent? Strong? Hearing those words backstage, I almost laughed out loud. Three years since his debut. His acting was roasted by netizens for looking like a toad; his dancing was questioned by judges who thought he was performing a séance; and his singing was so autotuned it sounded like a robot. Where exactly did Jaxon Vane get this “talent”? I was so angry I turned around and walked away. His little assistant chased after me shouting, “Harper! You don’t want the face-to-face signing?” I didn’t want it. I didn’t want the VIP package I spent five grand on. I didn’t want this D-list idol I’d chased for three years, either. I was going home tonight to edit videos for his rival. I was going to show him who the real hero was! 2 I dug out an SD card that had been gathering dust. Inside, besides Jaxon’s videos, there was footage of his rival—Liam West. At the time, they were at the same music festival. Jaxon was late, so Liam covered for him and sang a few extra songs. I was bored waiting, so I casually recorded a few “fancams” (focused shots) of him. Later, Jaxon’s fans started tearing into Liam, claiming he hogged Jaxon’s performance time. The two fandoms caused a massive earthquake in our little circle, so I never touched that memory card again. Looking at it now— He was undeniably hot! His talent was undeniably strong! Fueled by this sudden passion, I immediately registered a burner account, edited the footage I shot back then, and uploaded it to TikTok and Twitter. After doing all that, I passed out. When I woke up the next day, my “Do Not Disturb” mode turned off, and my phone exploded with notifications. Ding-ding-ding! The video had gone viral! 3 Overnight, the video surpassed 100,000 likes. The comments section was full of screaming fans. “Ahhhh! How does such beauty exist in the entertainment industry?” “Passerby here. I fell down the rabbit hole immediately after watching this.” “What are these talent shows doing? How are they missing hidden gems like this everywhere!” “Omg, my house finally has a God-tier fan site! Liam West deserves to be seen!” The top comments were all joy about discovering a hidden gem. I happily scrolled through the comments until I saw a few that had suddenly jumped to the top. “Wait… do you guys notice this editor’s cutting style and watermark placement look familiar?” “Holy crap, I see it too. She looks like the fan site admin for that idol who blew up recently. What’s her name?” “The IP address is the same. The backpack accidentally shown in the reflection is the same. It’s confirmed—this is Jaxon Vane’s fan site admin!” 4 Wait! Are netizens detectives these days? How did they dig that up so fast! I felt guilty, so I quickly turned off comment notifications on the burner account. But it didn’t end there. My main account was getting flooded with DMs from fans. Jaxon’s_GF: “Harper, are you running away?” OnlyLoveJaxon: “Harper, did you start a burner? Our fandom forbids ‘multi-stanning’ (supporting multiple idols). You know the rules, right?” These voices were relatively mild. But later on, the main account’s comments section was overrun by angry fans. “Heh, you made enough money off us and now you’re ready to bounce, right?” “Your greed is showing. If no one dug this up, were you planning to grift money from both sides?” “You harvested so many of us ‘leeks’ (gullible fans), did you finish renovating your ocean-view villa yet?” The more I read, the angrier I got. To be fair, in the three years I chased Jaxon Vane, I spent countless amounts of energy and savings. Aside from the tiny creator fund incentives from the video platforms, I was doing this purely for love! Three years. I shot countless viral videos for him and edited three clips that hit a million views! I bought his endorsements by the crate, chased every music festival, and never missed a signing event. And now I’m “scamming fans” and “harvesting leeks”? Clearly, I was the leek being harvested! Just when my heart was hurting from the rage, a friend in PR sent me a screenshot. It was from a “water army” group chat (paid bot/troll farm). Someone had placed an order for a professional team to deliberately lead the rhythm and smear my reputation. I looked at that person’s avatar and ID— I remembered it clearly! That was Jaxon Vane’s manager’s burner account! 5 My PR friend joked with me: “If you had slid into his DMs privately earlier, maybe you would have seen his true face a long time ago. You wouldn’t have waited until now.” True. If I hadn’t had such strong boundaries—if I had just thrown money at him before he was famous—I might have been the “sister-in-law” (girlfriend) by now! It didn’t end there. The video on my burner account started getting mass-reported. After going through hell to successfully appeal the ban, the data, which had already raced to 500,000 likes, completely stagnated. I was dizzy from the stress all day. That night, I opened the app and even saw marketing accounts pushing a narrative— “Do current fan site admins make money from black-hearted schemes? A certain fan site couldn’t scam enough money, so she started reaching out to…” They actually bought marketing accounts to blacklist me! Jaxon Vane! If you’re going to be unjust, don’t blame me for being unrighteous! I furiously logged into my main account, deleted every single work, and completely deactivated the account. From this moment on. Jaxon Vane’s top fan site, “Wind Trace,” completely disappeared. Replacing it was Liam West’s fan site— “Walking With Light.” 6 After the account deletion, Jaxon’s fandom experienced a massive earthquake. Millions of data points vanished. The viral edits were gone, leaving only a few low-quality reposts saved by fans. Overnight, he was back to his pre-fame state. The news even spread through the entire industry circle. #JaxonFanSiteDeleted #StationSisterUnstan #LiamWestFanSite Several hashtags hit the trending list simultaneously. My heat index even reached a level the idol himself had never achieved. The comments section was filled with cheers. “Someone’s true colors were finally discovered! I won’t say who, but this is satisfying!” “Last music festival, his fans were cursing Liam West for taking up performance time. It was clearly Jaxon Vane who had no concept of time and showed up late. We were just saving the show!” “Hello Admin, can you look at my brother? @[Name] The kid has great skills, he just lacks one viral opportunity!” “To the person above, is that your admin? You’re just shouting! Liam, you have to cling to this admin for dear life!” So heartwarming! It was so heartwarming I didn’t even sleep. I not only posted the rest of my video stockpile but also stayed up all night searching for Liam’s past videos. I fought like this for a month. I not only dropped seven viral videos in a row but also rode the tailwinds of the trending topics to get the “Walking With Light” account to 100,000 followers. Even Liam West himself was dragged into the public eye by my heat. Netizens affectionately gave me a nickname— “The Strongest Station Sister.”

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I, in a fit of belated lust, started sponsoring a broke college kid. He’d swear, tongue in my mouth, that he was a pro who’d never fall for his sugar daddy. I’d push his face away: “Fine. You catch feelings, you’re a dog.” Later, he found out he looked just like my first love. He buried his face in my chest, eyes red, and whimpered, “Can’t a dog… can’t a dog bite here?” “Just love me, okay? Stop thinking about him. I can’t take it.” 1 The first time I saw Leo, I knew he’d be the death of me. He was just… electric. He was a server at the gay bar I owned. White shirt, black vest, slim waist, long legs. He was so beautiful it hurt to look at. He knew exactly how devastating he was, and his rejections were a performance art. A younger guy, blushing bright red, asked for his number. Leo replied with a perfectly straight face: “Dude, I’m all show, no go. Don’t waste your time.” I leaned against the bar, laughing. My laugh must have been too loud, because he glanced over at me. His eyes were cold and bright. Tsk. Even better. Ricky, my bartender, hooked a finger in the silver chain around my neck, pulling my attention back. “See something you like, Julian?” he purred. “Too bad. Leo doesn’t like men.” I raised an eyebrow, waiting. Ricky leaned in, his breath warm on my ear. “I already asked around. He’s only working here because he’s desperate for cash. We pay double what any other campus job does. Plus, he’s got a sweet mouth and a hard heart. He clears a fortune in tips.” “Is that so?” I swirled the bourbon in my glass, an idea taking root. “A sweet mouth, huh?” 2 I, Julian Thorne, have few virtues. But I am rich, and I am patient. When I see something I want, I get it. I had him looked into. The file was delivered to my office. Just a few thin pages, but they made me wince. Leo Sterling, 20. A computer science prodigy at NYU. His grandmother was in the hospital, long-term care. His father was a world-class scumbag. Ran off with his high school sweetheart years ago, leaving Leo to care for his mother, who had been paralyzed. The dad’s parting words were, “I’ve done my duty. Who the hell wants to be a nursemaid for a vegetable?” Leo sold the house, borrowed from everyone he knew, and somehow kept his grandmother’s heart beating. He was juggling medical debt and loans, going to classes, and working two jobs, ending his nights at my bar. My chest felt a little tight. If I had been in his shoes, I couldn’t have done half as well. In my mind, the script was supposed to go like this: I, the wealthy patron, offer to sponsor him. He, full of pride, curses me out and tells me to go to hell. Then, I swoop in, pay off his nana’s medical debt, and he, for the sake of his family, reluctantly and humiliatingly agrees to be mine. Thus begins our angsty, push-pull sugar daddy arrangement. That’s how it’s supposed to work. However, the reality was this: Leo stood in front of my desk, placed a folder neatly in front of me, and said in a clear voice, “Sir, this is my full health report, including recent bloodwork. All my vitals are excellent.” Me: “…” Before I could reset my expression, he continued. “Additionally, before we sign, may I review the specific terms of the arrangement? I’d like to understand the obligations, the confidentiality clause, and the termination conditions.” I managed a dry, “Oh.” I pushed the contract my assistant had drafted across the desk. He picked it up and just stood there, reading it. Line by line. I stared at his perfect profile, my throat suddenly dry. What was happening? I was supposed to be the one in charge. Why did I feel like the rookie while he was the seasoned negotiator? I cleared my throat. “Leo, do you understand what you’ll be… required to do?” He looked up. “Yes, I do.” He recited, as if reading a job description: “Kiss you, touch you, hold you, serve you, satisfy you in bed. Be on call, maintain loyalty, and provide physical and emotional value as needed.” “Stop, stop!” My face was burning. “You get it.” “The terms are acceptable, sir. I just have one request. I’d like specific days guaranteed for visiting my grandmother to be written into the contract, with priority execution.” I nodded. “Fine. That’s reasonable.” We signed. Just like that, Leo was mine. I got him in to see the best specialists in the city and set up a new treatment plan for his nana. He sat in the consultation room, perfectly still, answering the doctor’s questions with quiet precision. He was like a model student. I smiled. He was actually… kind of adorable. I knew he was brilliant. If life hadn’t buried him in debt, I never would have had a chance. 3 That weekend, I was dead asleep when my doorbell rang. A single, patient chime, once every minute. I have a violent hatred of being woken up. I stomped downstairs, ready to murder someone, and ripped the door open— Leo. He was standing there quietly with a small rolling suitcase. The morning light hit him just right, making him look unfairly beautiful. He saw my thunderous expression, pressed his lips together, and said softly, “Sir. I’m here to report for duty.” All my anger vanished. “Oh.” My brain hadn’t booted up yet. I just moved aside and let him in. Then, to my utter shock, he reached down, grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, and pulled it over his head. My eyes widened. Sculpted pecs, a tight six-pack, and a sharp V-cut disappearing into his jeans. I was instantly awake. And my nose felt warm. “W-wait, honey,” I stammered. “It’s 8 AM… you don’t have to clock in that fast.” He paused, shirt in hand. He looked at me, confused. Then he bent down and pulled something out of his suitcase. An apron. With a cartoon bear on it. He tied it around his bare torso, hiding the scenery that had just sent my blood pressure skyrocketing. “I did some research yesterday,” he said, all business. “A high-quality companion wears this when preparing breakfast for their patron.” Me: “…” I stared at the apron strings cutting into the muscles of his back. “You’re…” I finally managed, “You’re very diligent. Great work ethic.” He nodded, accepting the compliment. “Ms. Evans said you skip breakfast. That’s unhealthy. My cooking is decent. I’ll make you noodles.” He went into the kitchen and started prepping. I stumbled through my morning routine, then leaned against the kitchen doorframe, my eyes glued to him. That waist. Those legs. He was in the middle of chopping scallions when he suddenly stopped, turned around, and caught me staring. A faint blush crept up his ears. “Sir… would you like to touch?” Me: “…Huh?” He repeated, patiently, “You’ve been looking for a while. You can touch. It’s your right, as per the agreement. The tactile experience should be… acceptable.” He added, as if worried I’d decline, “I showered before I came.” I was floored. Wasn’t I supposed to be the one making the moves? Wasn’t he supposed to be shy? Why was he teaching me how to be a sugar daddy? 4 I dropped the pretense. I walked over, wrapped my arms around his waist, and untied the apron’s bow. The feeling of his skin—hot, firm, smooth—made me want to howl. I ran my hands over his sides, giving a little squeeze. Perfect. Leo’s body tensed. He gently took my wandering hand, lowered his head, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss against my fingertips. My entire nervous system short-circuited. “Did you take a class on this? You’re too good.” He shook his head. “No. I just want you to like me.” Who could possibly resist that? I was pressed against him, and I felt… something… hard. My eyes shot down. Damn. College kids really are full of energy. Leo immediately clamped his legs together, covering himself with one hand. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, his face red. “I can’t control it.” “What’s for breakfast?” I thought, my throat tight. I cleared my throat. “Nothing to apologize for. Come on.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. He followed, his breathing heavy. “What about the noodles, sir?” “Later. Business first.” He tumbled me onto the bed, both of us fumbling and eager. He slid his hands under my shirt, his skin scalding hot. He leaned in, smelling like soap, aiming for my mouth. I turned my head. It was pure reflex. I’d had partners before. Sex was easy. Kissing was not. Kissing felt… intimate. More real than skin on skin. Leo froze. He understood immediately. He didn’t try for my lips again. He just lowered his head, his hot mouth and sharp teeth finding their way to my collarbone, my chest. He was slow. Deliberate. I felt a shiver run down my spine. My fingers tangled in his hair. “Leo…” I rasped, not used to this kind of teasing. He looked up, his eyes clouded with arousal. “Sir… is here off-limits, too?” 5 I slapped his ass. “Alright, turn over.” He didn’t move. His eyes, wide and innocent, were glassy with moisture. He looked at me, then pressed his body against mine. I glanced down again. Good god. That “all packaging, no product” line was the biggest lie he’d ever told. He wrapped his arms around me, burying his hot face in my neck. “Sir… please, let me? I promise I’ll be good.” I stammered. “What? No. I’ve never…” He nuzzled my neck, looking pathetic. “I studied all night. I have the theory down. Just let me try?” He pulled back, his face inches from mine, and started peppering my cheeks and jaw with soft, pleading kisses. I’m only human. He knew he was winning. He whispered right in my ear, “I’ll be gentle, sir. I’ll make you feel good. Please, Julian.” My self-control evaporated. I felt like a decadent king, hopelessly corrupted by beauty. I squeezed my eyes shut, resigned to my fate. “Fine. You can try.” And so, Leo put his night of “studying” into practice. It was… not bad. He was clumsy, but incredibly patient and attentive. He kept watching my face, whispering. “Are you watching me, sir?” “You’re covering your eyes. Are you shy?” “You’re so responsive, Julian. You keep biting me.” I was mortified. “Can you please shut up?” He pouted. “Oh. I learned this part special. I thought… I thought it would be hot.” It was hot, but that wasn’t the point. I couldn’t take it. I planted my foot on his chest to push him away. He slowed down, his gaze dropping to the silver chain around my neck. The one with the ring on it. He stared at it for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, very gently, he tucked the chain behind my neck, hiding the ring in my hair. I was half-lost in sensation, and his pause was annoying. “What’s wrong? Don’t stop.” … He started again, with a vengeance. His lips found my heart and stayed there, a long, drawn-out torment. I tensed, my toes curling in his grasp. I think… I think I misjudged who was in charge here. Leo grabbed my hand and pressed it to his cheek, nuzzling into my palm. He looked at me, his face close. “Sir. Did I satisfy you?” He was too good at this. I had to admit, my heart, which I thought was dead, skipped a beat.

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On my childhood best friend’s birthday, he threw the doll I’d handmade for him into the trash. “It looks like absolute garbage. Who’d want this piece of crap?” I ran away crying as live comments floated past my eyes: 【Go on, be arrogant. You have no idea that doll is a key prop in this steamy webnovel. It has an empathic link to the heroine!】 【Don’t cry, Sophie! He’s just salty you didn’t vote for him for Campus King. Once he cools down, he’ll be digging through the trash to get it back and apologize.】 【Hehe, and once he discovers the doll’s little secret, he’s going to start all sorts of shameless, steamy things to sleep you into submission!】 I froze. Suddenly, I felt a warmth on my cheek, as if someone was gently wiping away my tears. Then, the live comments exploded: 【Holy crap, isn’t that the scholarship kid who has a secret crush on the heroine?】 【How did he get the doll?!】 1 When I gave my childhood friend his birthday gift, his “best girl-friend” Maya was there too. When she saw the doll, she gave Dylan a weird look and teased, “Seriously, dude? You’re into girly stuff like this?” Dylan’s face darkened. He stared at the clumsily stitched doll, his voice dropping. “This is the junk you got me for my birthday?” My eyes welled up with tears. When we were ten, I had asked him, “What do you want for your eighteenth birthday?” He’d blinked. “A doll that you made yourself.” It was because of a fairy tale he’d read. It said that if you received a handmade doll from someone important to you on your coming-of-age birthday, you’d be with them forever. “That’s the only thing I want,” ten-year-old Dylan had said. But now, eighteen-year-old Dylan was calling it junk. “Come on, Dylan, Sophie’s your childhood sweetheart. Can’t you be a little nicer?” Seeing my teary eyes, Maya playfully punched his arm, pretending to stick up for me. “Besides, she was too busy voting for Caleb to have time for you.” That seemed to be his trigger. Dylan let out a cold, bitter laugh and hurled the doll toward the trash can. “If you don’t have time, then don’t bother.” “Who’d want this piece of crap anyway.” The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. I turned and ran, sobbing. “Tsk, girls are so much trouble. Crying over every little thing,” I vaguely heard Maya’s dismissive voice behind me. Then she prodded Dylan with that same fake concern. “What are you waiting for? Go comfort her before she throws a massive fit!” Dylan’s reply was sharp enough to cut glass. “Comfort her for what? She cries a dozen times a day. Let her cry herself to death for all I care.” I ran home in shame and locked myself in my room, crying my heart out. That’s when the comments appeared before my eyes: 【Nooo, don’t cry, Sophie! Don’t blame him! Blame that evil side character for manipulating everything!】 【He doesn’t even know you made the doll! That manipulative tomboy, Maya, lied and told him it was some cheap thing from a street stall. He’s just mad you don’t care about him.】 【And you didn’t vote for him for Campus King! He’s jealous and hurt, that’s why he lost his temper and was mean to you!】 【Don’t worry, the toughest thing about Dylan is his mouth… well, besides that. He actually feels terrible. He’s going to go dig that doll out of the trash and come apologize to you like a puppy with its tail between its legs.】 【Hehe, after all, that doll is a key prop in this steamy webnovel. It shares your senses! Get ready to be pleasured by an insatiable hero until you can’t get out of bed!】 2 Reading the comments, my mind went blank. To be honest, I’d always thought my crush on Dylan was… weird. We were childhood friends, but after puberty hit, our personalities clashed. He was a rebellious thrill-seeker, always skipping class, getting into fights, and street racing. I, on the other hand, was a born crybaby and a total coward. One lap in his speeding car was enough to make me wail for miles. He’d offer a half-hearted apology to my face, then complain to Maya behind my back that I was “a high-maintenance princess, so dramatic and boring.” But it felt like I was under a spell, hopelessly in love with him. Now I understood. No wonder it felt so weird. It was all set up by the author! The comments were still flying: 【Once Dylan discovers the doll’s secret, he’s going to start all sorts of shameless, steamy things to sleep you into submission!】 【Like, during gym class, he’ll play with the doll and get you all hot and bothered, so you have to go ‘rest’ in the equipment room. Then he’ll follow you, lock the door, and pin you against the window for some forced seduction… you know what I mean, hehe.】 【Or when he’s jealous of you talking to another guy, he’ll rough up the doll in public until your legs go weak and your eyes lose focus. Then he’ll sweep you into his arms to claim what’s his.】 【Okay, hold up, that sounds kind of gross. Like some pervert from a creepy manga.】 【+1, that’s so tacky. Is that really a male lead in a female-oriented story?】 【Give me a break, you two moral guardians. If you don’t like it, get lost! It’s a smut fic, it’s supposed to be hot and steamy! Stop nitpicking everything!】 I trembled as I read. You guys get your kicks, but what about my feelings?! I felt sick to my stomach. I was about to rush out and grab the doll before Dylan could. But then… A clean, fresh scent enveloped me. I felt a warmth on my cheek, as if someone was gently wiping my tears away. Then, he carefully brushed the dust from my clothes and whispered, “I’d cherish it.” 3 The comments exploded: 【Holy crap, isn’t that Caleb, the scholarship kid who has a secret crush on the heroine?】 【What’s going on? This isn’t how the story is supposed to go! How did he get the doll before the male lead?】 【Oh no, that doll is the key to their relationship! Without it, the whole plot is ruined!】 Hearing that name, I froze. Caleb was the only scholarship student in our class. His face was extraordinarily handsome. So handsome that even though I was in love with Dylan, I couldn’t bring myself to vote for anyone else for Campus King. As a result, Dylan lost to Caleb by a single vote. But Caleb was the classic ice prince. He had a ‘do not disturb’ aura and kept to himself. In three years as classmates, we had barely exchanged a few words. How could he have a crush on me? The comments debated furiously: 【He might act all cold and aloof, but he’s secretly head over heels for the heroine.】 【How could he not be? When his grandmother collapsed from high blood pressure on the street, the heroine was the one who rushed her to the hospital. If not for her, Caleb would have lost his only family.】 【Ever since then, he’s been paying extra attention to her. The more he watched, the more he was drawn to her. He’s been falling for her on his own for three years. Now he even says her name in his sleep.】 【OMG, that doll shares the heroine’s senses! He’s so repressed, what if he does something… indecent with it?!】 My heart skipped a beat. I curled up in bed, my mind racing with anxiety for what felt like an eternity. But besides the feeling of being held gently, as if I were something precious, nothing happened. The faint, clean scent of soap from Caleb’s clothes lingered around me, like a sun-dried white shirt. It was fresh and comforting. Strangely, I felt a sense of peace. Drowsiness washed over me, and I drifted off to sleep. But I wasn’t asleep for long before I was jolted awake by a sharp pain. 4 I winced, a stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. I was already weak from my period. Crying over Dylan and getting caught in the rain on the way home hadn’t helped. Now, in the middle of the night, the temperature had dropped. The cold made the cramps unbearable. My parents were out of town, and our housekeeper was on leave. There was no ibuprofen in the house, no heating pads. Seeing me writhing on the bed, the comments immediately offered advice: 【Poor baby, just call Dylan already!】 【He’s cooled off now and feels terrible. He can’t sleep, he’s just thinking about how to apologize.】 【Just give him an opening, and he’ll come running to your door, tail wagging!】 I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t going to call him. Dylan always thought I overreacted. Once, I had to cancel a date with him because of cramps, and he’d grumbled, “Maya’s a girl too, and she still goes street racing and bungee jumping on her period. Why are you always acting like you’re dying?” Back then, afraid of upsetting him, I’d wiped my tears and forced myself to go. Not anymore. Ever since I saw the comments, the spell was broken. My head was clear. I didn’t want to bother Dylan. And I’d appreciate it if he didn’t bother me. The rain pattered against the window, a chilling dampness seeping into the room. I curled up, alternating between shivering and waves of pain. The comments didn’t get it: 【The heroine can barely move from the pain, but she’s letting her pride make her suffer.】 【I’m so annoyed. This could all be solved if she just gave in a little, but she’d rather torture herself.】 【My idiot-intolerance is flaring up. Besides Dylan, who else is going to help her right now?】 But I didn’t budge. Even as my lips turned white from the pain, I chose to endure it. Suddenly, it felt as if I had fallen into a soft, warm cloud. A profound warmth enveloped me, chasing away the chill. The pain in my abdomen began to subside, replaced by a gentle, soothing heat. The comments were in shock: 【Is Caleb insane? It’s the middle of the night, and he’s taking the expensive silk quilt he never uses and making a bed for the doll. Now he’s run out to buy a hot water bottle to warm its stomach.】 【OMG, what’s with that pained expression? Don’t tell me he already knows the doll is linked to the heroine!】 【Something’s not right. How does he know she has cramps and needs to be warmed up? You’d think he had an omniscient point of view, just like us!】 A jolt went through me. A wild idea popped into my head: Could it be… that Caleb could see the comments too? 5 The next morning, I was waiting at the school gate early. I wanted to intercept Caleb, get the doll back, and test my theory. But I waited and waited, and he never showed up. The comments were frantic: 【What is the heroine doing just standing there? Dylan and Caleb are already fighting down the street!】 I froze. It turned out Dylan hadn’t slept at all. He’d spent the night digging through the trash for the doll, planning to apologize to me. But he found nothing. So, with dark circles under his eyes, he’d gone to buy my favorite breakfast instead. And, as fate would have it, he ran right into Caleb, who was carefully holding the doll. Dylan exploded on the spot. “That’s my gift from her. You have no right to touch it.” He threw the first punch. By the time I arrived, alerted by the comments, Caleb was already on the ground. He was curled up, his arms wrapped around his chest, desperately protecting something. Dylan, clearly not finished, had a cold look in his eyes as he rained punches down on Caleb’s back. The comments were a flurry of opinions: 【Caleb is that weak? He’s 6’2”, and he’s getting beaten up by Dylan, who’s half a head shorter. No wonder he’s just a nameless side character.】 【Hehe, serves him right. He tried to steal from the male lead and get in the way of my ship. Hope his face gets smashed in!】 【The person above is nuts. Caleb isn’t fighting back because Dylan is trying to rip the doll away from him. If he lets go, the heroine would pass out from the pain.】 【Can I just say, the male lead is really questionable. The description says ‘dominant childhood friend,’ but he’s acting like a possessive creep.】 【Ugh, the side character stans are at it again, slandering the male lead! Dylan doesn’t know about the empathic link yet, what did he do wrong?】 【I agree. No matter how much you slander him, our heroine only has eyes for the male lead. She doesn’t even look at other guys. Eat your hearts out!】 As that last comment appeared, I thought I saw the light in Caleb’s eyes dim. 6 But a moment later, a sharp smack echoed in the air. Caleb’s eyes widened, a flicker of light returning to them. Because I had run in front of him. And, in my haste, I had slapped Dylan across the face. “Have you lost your mind?” I snapped. Dylan froze, his hand covering his cheek. “You… you slapped me? For him?” he stammered in disbelief. He pointed at Caleb, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. “He’s the one who stole the doll you gave me!” I helped Caleb to his feet, gently brushing the dust from his back and shoulders, just as he had done for the doll the night before. I turned to Dylan, my voice cold. “You said you didn’t want it. So what’s the problem if I give it to someone who does?” Dylan’s shoulders tensed. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking, each word a threat. “Sophie, you’ve crossed a line this time. Don’t regret this.” I couldn’t be bothered with him. I turned to Caleb, helping him up. “Come on, let’s go to the nurse’s office.” Caleb’s eyelashes fluttered. He nodded, carefully clutching the doll. Dylan was furious. “Fine. Fine! FINE!” He suddenly grabbed Maya, who had just arrived, and pulled her into a hug. “There’s no such thing as a platonic friendship between a guy and a girl. You’ve been acting like one of the guys, but you’ve always had a crush on me, haven’t you?” “So, how about we give it a shot?” Maya froze for a second, then, dropping her usual tomboy act, she blushed and nodded. I had to laugh. They were always slinging their arms around each other, hiding behind the “just friends” excuse. I had told Dylan it made me uncomfortable, but he’d just shrugged and called me petty. “We’re just bros. Are you really getting jealous over nothing?” Turns out, he knew everything all along. 7 In the nurse’s office, I dabbed at Caleb’s scrapes. Honestly, I hadn’t really believed he had a crush on me. For three years, he’d been cold to everyone, like a beautiful, emotionless statue. But as I leaned in with the cotton swab, the ice sculpture in front of me instantly turned into a volcano. His gaze darted away, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he tried to control his racing heart. Seeing him so flustered and innocent, I felt an unexpected thrill. It was like having a gorgeous, aloof cat that ignored everyone else, but would roll over and show you its fluffy belly, purring just for you. It was a little power trip, and I was enjoying it. “Sophie.” Caleb gently pulled my hand away, trying to look composed. But his ears, red as cherries, gave him away. I studied his expression, feeling even more delighted. What a cute, flustered boy. I wanted to pinch his cheeks. “Thank you for helping me,” he said, his eyes still avoiding mine. He held out his hands. “But I have to give you the doll back.” Thanks to Dylan, Caleb’s uniform was torn and dusty. But the doll, which he had cradled in his arms, was spotless. “It… it has an empathic link with you,” he explained earnestly, afraid I wouldn’t believe him. Maybe it was the “smut fic heroine” in me, but staring at his moving lips, I had the sudden urge to tease him. “Really?” I feigned disbelief and poked the doll’s cheek. My hair, as if on cue, brushed against the back of his hand. Caleb froze, his breath catching in his throat. “I don’t feel anything,” I said, blinking innocently. I deliberately took his finger and used it to poke the doll. “Or does it only work if you do it?” They say the fingers are connected to the heart. It must be true. The moment our fingers touched, I could feel his heart about to beat out of his chest. The comments went wild: 【Is he really that innocent? Just holding hands and he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.】 【Sophie, stop teasing him! I’m seriously worried he’s going to pass out.】 【Ahhh, why is this so cute? I officially support the heroine dumping the toxic childhood friend for the innocent puppy!】 As soon as that comment appeared, Caleb’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. I had my fun. I smiled and took the doll from his hands. But in an instant, it vanished from my grasp and reappeared in his arms. The comments explained: 【OMG, I almost forgot, the doll is owner-bound. If anyone else touches it, it teleports back to its owner.】 【In the original story, the heroine couldn’t stand the male lead’s insatiable appetite and tried to steal the doll back, but she couldn’t. He caught her in the act and used it as an excuse to ‘punish’ her.】 【LMAO, you smut fic writers will come up with any crazy rule to create a steamy scene!】 Someone noticed the implication: 【Wait, does that mean these two are tied together for life because of the doll?】 【Nooo, what about Dylan? I only ship the main couple!】 【Don’t worry, the link only lasts for six months. It deactivates after the heroine graduates and goes abroad with Dylan, since it’s no longer needed for the plot.】 Caleb, unaware that I could see the comments, explained with fluttering eyelashes that the doll’s link was only temporary. His ears were still red, but his eyes were sincere as he made me a promise. “During this time, I won’t do anything to disrespect you.” I smiled. “I know. I trust you.”

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I had been with the company for eleven years. Then the owner’s son appeared out of thin air and became my new boss. To establish his authority, he decided to make an example of a veteran employee. That veteran was me. The first fire he lit was right under my chair. In front of our biggest client, he threw a cup of coffee squarely in my face. “This is what you serve our most important partner? This swill? You’re embarrassing the entire company.” Rage boiled in my lungs, but for the sake of the firm—my firm, in so many ways—I swallowed the jagged pieces of my pride and endured it. At the next company-wide meeting, he slammed my proposal onto the floor. “This isn’t a retirement home. We can’t afford to carry dead weight like you who just takes up space.” The next day, I didn’t quit. Instead, I had my personal assistant post a notice on the digital display in the lobby of the corporate building: 【Due to the emotional instability of the renting party’s management, the lease for the 17th floor will not be renewed upon its expiration next month.】 1 That notice sent a shockwave through the company. But the aftershocks hadn’t yet reached Preston Hayes’s feet. He probably figured his mother would hold up the sky if it ever decided to fall. His most pressing concern at the moment was pulling me out of his side like the thorn I’d become. “Ian. I’m surprised you have the nerve to show your face here today.” I’d just sat down at my desk when Preston’s voice slithered over my shoulder. He stood over me, arms crossed, chin tilted at an angle that suggested a deep personal relationship with the ceiling tiles. “I thought after yesterday’s dressing-down, you’d have the decency to pack your things and crawl away. You’ve got a thick skin, I’ll give you that.” I didn’t even look up, just calmly booted up my computer. “Preston, it’s working hours.” My composure seemed to needle him. He let out a sharp, grating laugh. “Work? Fine. Let’s find you some work, then. Can’t have anyone saying Horizon Media Group pays people to do nothing.” He slapped a file onto my desk so hard that the water in my glass sloshed onto the surface. “That Seraphina Monroe account. You’ve been on that for a while, haven’t you?” A knot formed in my stomach. Ms. Monroe. The “most important partner” who had been sitting right there yesterday when Preston had thrown his fit—and his coffee—at me. She was the firm’s biggest client of the year, the head of a project I’d personally nurtured for six months. After yesterday’s fiasco, her assistant had called, politely informing us that the partnership required “re-evaluation.” Preston was setting me up to take the fall. “Ms. Monroe has already made it clear she’s terminating the contract. I want you to go over there and win her back.” He dropped the command like a dead weight, then turned and swaggered away in his polished Italian loafers. He paused at the end of the aisle and added, “And if you can’t, don’t blame me when I humiliate you in front of the entire company. Again.” It was a mission impossible. Everyone in the office knew it. This was Preston’s way of forcing my resignation. A colleague, Rick, leaned over from the next cubicle. “Ian, he’s just trying to screw with you. Nobody could land that account now. It’s a suicide mission.” I managed a tight smile but said nothing. Picking up my phone, I dialed Seraphina Monroe’s assistant. “Hello, this is Ian Wright.” There was a brief silence on the other end. “Mr. Wright. Hello.” “I’d like to request a meeting with Ms. Monroe. Just to discuss the project itself, one last time. Regardless of the outcome, I feel we both deserve a proper conclusion.” The assistant sounded hesitant but agreed to pass along the request. Five minutes later, my phone rang. “Mr. Wright, Ms. Monroe has agreed. This afternoon at three, at The Cypress Lounge.” I hung up, a strange calm settling over me. When Preston saw that I’d actually secured the meeting, a flash of disbelief crossed his face before he masked it with a sneer. “Well, look at you. Don’t get your hopes up. You know the consequences if you come back empty-handed.” I ignored him and began preparing the materials for the meeting. Half an hour before I was due to leave, I walked toward the printer with the freshly organized proposal. Preston emerged from the break room with a cup of coffee, almost as if he’d been waiting for me. As he passed, his shoulder slammed into mine in a way that was anything but accidental. The folder flew from my grasp, and a snowstorm of white paper scattered across the floor. “Oh, my God, I am so sorry,” he said, his voice dripping with mock concern while his eyes danced with triumph. “I didn’t see you there.” Before I could even bend down, one of his shiny leather shoes landed squarely, deliberately, on the most critical pages of the proposal—the architectural diagrams. He ground his heel into them, leaving a dirty, scuffed footprint. He leaned down, his voice a low hiss only I could hear. “It’s all just garbage anyway. Don’t thank me for helping you take it out.” 2 A dead silence fell over the surrounding cubicles. No one dared to even breathe. Preston savored the moment, watching me, waiting for the explosion he so clearly craved. But I just looked down at the ruined proposal. Then I lifted my gaze to meet his and offered a serene smile. “It’s alright, Preston. You have a good day. Watch your step, it’s a long way down.” With that, I picked up my flash drive from the floor and walked away. The smirk on Preston’s face froze, his victory curdling. This was not the reaction he’d been expecting. Once outside, I went straight to a print shop near the lounge and had a fresh copy of the proposal printed and bound. The Cypress Lounge. The atmosphere was serene, the decor minimalist and calming. Seraphina Monroe was already there when I arrived. She wore a tailored, casual blazer, her focus entirely on the delicate tea set before her. She radiated a quiet confidence. When she saw me, she looked up, her eyes lingering on my face for a half-second too long. “Mr. Wright. Please, sit.” Her voice was softer, warmer than it had sounded over the phone. “Ms. Monroe, I want to apologize for yesterday’s… scene,” I said, getting straight to the point. She waved a hand dismissively. “I have no interest in commenting on your company’s internal politics.” Her tone was even, but her words were sharp. “I only want to know one thing. If a company can’t respect its own senior staff, how can I possibly trust it to respect my project?” The question was a dagger, pointed and direct. I paused for a moment. “You’re right, Ms. Monroe. I won’t make excuses for my company, or for anyone in it.” I pushed the newly printed proposal across the table toward her. “I came here today simply as the project lead, to give the proposal I’ve spent the last six months of my life on the presentation it deserves. It’s my responsibility, and it’s the respect your project is owed.” I didn’t mention Preston. I didn’t play the victim. I just walked her through every detail of the plan, every creative decision, and all the groundwork our team had laid. Seraphina listened quietly, never interrupting. When I finished, she spoke slowly. “Ian.” It was the first time she’d used my first name. “This proposal is excellent. Better, even, than I had anticipated.” I felt a sliver of relief. “But,” she continued, her tone shifting, “my contract is with a team, with a company. Not with one man.” “I understand,” I said, nodding as I gathered my materials, preparing to leave. Just as I stood up, she said, “I will reconsider the partnership.” The ambiguity of her statement caught me completely off guard. Back at the office, my colleagues looked at me as if I were a soldier returning from a hopeless battle. Preston, of course, was the first to charge. “So? Rejected, weren’t you? I told you you were useless!” I ignored him and walked back to my desk. He followed, his voice rising an octave. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Have your resignation letter on my desk by tomorrow morning. Don’t make me do it for you!” Just then, my phone rang. It was Seraphina Monroe’s assistant. “Mr. Wright, Ms. Monroe asked me to inform you that the partnership is moving forward. However…” The entire office was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “She has stipulated that you are to be the sole point of contact for the project. She will be in touch with you personally to discuss the contractual details.” The color drained from Preston’s face, then returned in mottled shades of red and purple, as if his blood were at war with itself. 3 Preston Hayes had probably never been so humiliated in his entire life. He’d tried to use this project to force me out, but instead, the project was back on, and all the credit was being laid at my feet. The look he gave me was murderous. But he couldn’t lash out in front of everyone, so he forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Well done, Ian. Guess even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.” With that, he stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him. The next few days were quiet. Preston left me alone, though every time we passed in the hallway, his glare was sharp enough to cut glass. I ignored his petty theatrics and poured all my energy into Seraphina’s project. One day, while I was in a video conference with her team, Preston barged in. “Ian, I need you outside. Now.” His tone was hostile. I frowned, apologized to the people on the screen, and stepped out. “What is it, Preston?” “You know the company is moving next month, right?” he asked, the question coming out of nowhere. I suppressed a smirk. Of course I knew. I was the one who had my assistant post the non-renewal notice. But on the surface, I remained impassive. “I heard something about that.” “My mother wants you to handle finding the new office space. The requirements are: a location no worse than our current one, a space no smaller, and the rent has to be cheaper.” He finished, then crossed his arms, a smug, expectant look on his face. He added, “Besides, the landlord of this dump is a pain in the ass. So many rules. It’ll be good to move. My mom is sick of dealing with the headaches over the lease.” It was another perfectly designed trap. Prime office space in the central business district was nearly impossible to come by. Adding the “cheaper rent” condition made it a fool’s errand. He wanted to watch me scramble and fail, giving him the perfect excuse to fire me for incompetence. “Understood,” I said flatly. “This came directly from my mother. If you screw this up, don’t expect any mercy,” he threatened. I didn’t grace him with another response and turned back to my meeting. I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I walked away. He thought I couldn’t do it. He had no idea that I owned nearly all of the top-tier office buildings in the entire CBD. If I wanted him to move, he would move. And if I didn’t want him to find a new office, he would never lease another decent square foot in this city again. Over the next few days, I went about my work as usual, never mentioning the search for a new property. Preston grew impatient, repeatedly stopping by my desk to ask for updates. “Ian, how’s the search going? Don’t you dare slack off on me!” “I’m looking into it,” was always my reply. His patience finally snapped. This afternoon, he marched to my desk and threw a stack of papers in my face. “This is what you’ve found? A bunch of dumps in the middle of nowhere? Do you want us to move the company to the suburbs to be eaten alive by mosquitoes?” The edge of a paper sliced my cheek, a sharp, stinging pain. I looked up at him, my expression cold. “Preston, for a prime location in the CBD, this is what the budget allows.” “I don’t care! My mother gave you this task, and you will get it done! If you can’t, then you can get the hell out!” he screamed, his voice echoing through the silent office. Everyone was frozen at their desks. Slowly, one by one, I picked up the scattered papers from the floor. Then, I looked directly at him and said, enunciating every word, “Preston, there’s something you might not understand.” “Over half of the Class-A office buildings in this CBD are owned by a single individual.” “And that individual has a reputation for being… particular. He has a strong aversion to unprofessional, emotionally volatile, and frankly… rude tenants in his properties.” Preston stared at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He didn’t get it. I smiled, pulled out my phone, and dialed my assistant. I put the call on speaker. “Marcus, please notify all CBD property managers. Add ‘Horizon Media Group’ to the restricted leasing list.” A crisp, respectful voice came from the other end. “Right away, Mr. Wright.” I paused for effect. “And Marcus? I don’t want to see that company name in any of my buildings. Ever.” The office was utterly, profoundly silent. “Mr.… Wright?” Preston’s voice trembled, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

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The moment I knew we were over wasn’t during a screaming match or a tearful confession. It was over a piece of cheesecake. I’d found a new bakery and was raving about it, holding out a forkful of the creamy dessert to my fiancé, Ethan. He loved sweets, usually snatching them from my hand without a second thought. But this time, he just gave me a tight, awkward smile. I didn’t think much of it, turning away to pull a compact from my purse and touch up my lipstick. But in the mirror’s reflection, I saw it. I saw Ethan carefully, almost surgically, break off the part my fork had touched. He palmed the tiny piece of cake, and when he thought I wasn’t looking, dropped it into the trash can beside our table. When I turned back, he was already putting the remaining piece in his mouth, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Wow, you’re right,” he said, his voice a little too loud. “This is incredible. We should get more tomorrow.” At the time, I brushed it off as one of his quirks, a new manifestation of a latent germophobia. It stung, left a small, cold stone in my stomach, but it wasn’t enough to end an engagement over. That stone didn’t dissolve. It sat there until a company dinner a few weeks later. Hailey, Ethan’s new assistant, took a bite of roasted eggplant, made a face, and then, in front of everyone, casually scraped the half-eaten vegetable from her plate into Ethan’s. Without a moment’s hesitation, he picked it up with his own fork and ate it. That night, when we got home, I told him I was calling off the wedding. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the picture of weary frustration. “Because I ate a piece of eggplant she gave me?” “Because she’d already taken a bite of it,” I corrected, my voice dangerously calm. “Audrey, people are right about you,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’re pathologically jealous. You blow every little thing out of proportion.” “Fine,” I said, the word feeling clean and final. “If you want out, I’m not stopping you. Just don’t come crawling back to me when you realize what you’ve lost.” He laughed, a short, ugly sound. He was so sure of me, so certain of my devotion that he couldn’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t be the one to break. He didn’t understand that even the deepest love can be eroded, worn down to nothing by a thousand tiny acts of disrespect. This time, I was really leaving. 1 The next day, I told my parents I was exploring the merger with the firm in the South instead. They were surprised but, seeing the resolve in my eyes, they supported my decision. After that conversation, Ethan initiated his usual cold war protocol. My number was blocked. I was unfriended, unfollowed, and removed from every shared game and platform. It was his signature move, a childish power play designed to isolate me and force my hand. He was confident I wouldn’t be able to stand the silence, that I’d be the one to click ‘Add Friend’ and beg for his forgiveness. But this time, my cursor hovered over the button, and for the first time, I didn’t press it. A week later, a notification popped up from the company-wide group chat. “To celebrate our CEO’s birthday, Ethan is hosting a party tonight at The Crimson Lounge. Attendance is mandatory for all staff. No exceptions.” To avoid making a scene and putting my colleagues in an awkward position, I went. The moment I stepped into the private room, I saw them. Ethan was in the main booth, the king on his throne, and Hailey was pressed right up against him. Her lips were practically touching his ear as she whispered something, her hand resting on his thigh. They were enclosed in a private bubble, a world so intimate that no one else dared to enter. A moment later, they both burst out laughing, their faces so close a slight turn of the head would have resulted in a kiss. I looked away, a sour taste in my mouth, and found an empty seat in a dark corner. As people started presenting Ethan with their gifts, I ignored the spectacle, focusing on the slow burn of bourbon in my glass. It wasn’t long, however, before a shadow fell over me. I looked up into Ethan’s impeccably handsome face, marred by the familiar look of impatience he reserved just for me. “Audrey, where’s my present?” In the past, I would have started planning his birthday gift months in advance. The most memorable one took me half a year to build: a scale model of the house from his favorite movie, Up. I’d handcrafted every detail, right down to the hundreds of tiny, multi-colored balloons. When I’d launched it, the little house floating toward the sky, he’d promised we would be like Carl and Ellie, together until the very end. I’d actually believed him. I never thought his forever would have a three-year expiration date. Faced with his demanding question, I gave him a flat, empty answer. “I forgot.” My indifference clearly enraged him. His patience snapped. “Audrey, are you done with this tantrum?” he hissed, keeping his voice low. “Are you really going to let one stupid little thing ruin my birthday?” I looked at him, really looked at him, and noticed a faint smear of pink lipstick near the corner of his mouth. Hailey’s shade. The bourbon in my stomach curdled. “I’m not throwing a tantrum,” I said, my voice as steady as a flatline. “And I was serious about calling off the engagement.” For a split second, his expression froze. But then Hailey’s hand found his, her touch grounding him, and his composure returned. She was at his side, her face a mask of concern. “Audrey, please don’t misunderstand,” she said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “I only gave Ethan my food because I hate to see things go to waste. If… if my presence makes you this uncomfortable, I won’t come to the next dinner. I can just wait and eat everyone’s leftovers at the end.” Her words hit their mark. Ethan’s face softened with a rush of protective pity. “Hailey, don’t say that. You deserve the best of everything in this world,” he said, turning his glare on me. “If anyone shouldn’t be here, it’s Audrey. Who the hell does she think she is? That everyone has to cater to her every whim?” Hailey placed a placating hand on his arm. “Ethan, don’t say that. Audrey might be a little… sensitive, but she’s still your fiancée. You should try to be patient with her. I really don’t want you two fighting because of me.” “Patient with her?” he spat. “Who does she think she is? If my parents hadn’t begged me to go through with this merger, I would never have gotten involved with her. She finds a reason to be angry about every little thing. I’m sick of it. It’s exhausting.” Hailey then walked over to me, placing a hand on my back and leaning in as if sharing a secret between girlfriends. “Audrey, listen,” she said in a tone of profound wisdom. “From one woman to another, you’re being a little dramatic this time. Ethan has been so stressed about this he hasn’t been sleeping. I know you two don’t seem compatible, but you have the merger to think about. Maybe you should both just take a step back.” I knocked her hand away. “You know what I admire most about you, Hailey?” I asked, my voice low and sharp. A cold smile spread across my face. “It’s your complete and utter shamelessness. The way you can spew that sanctimonious bullshit and steal another woman’s fiancé without even batting an eye. It’s truly a gift.” The smug satisfaction on her face vanished, replaced by a flicker of shock. Ethan, however, went from zero to a hundred. “Audrey, who the hell gave you the right to talk to Hailey like that?” “Am I wrong?” I shot back, my voice rising to meet his. “Then tell me, why does she have a matching version of every gift you’ve ever bought me, which she then makes a point of showing off at the office? Why is it that every time you and I have a fight, an exaggerated, twisted version of it becomes gossip in the breakroom, courtesy of her? And how, exactly, does she know about the birthmark on your—” “That’s enough.” The word was punctuated by a sound that silenced the entire room. A sharp, cracking smack. My world dissolved into a dull, ringing chaos. My vision, however, was crystal clear. I could see every face in the room turned toward me, their expressions a sickening collage of pity, contempt, and morbid curiosity. 2 When the ringing in my ears finally subsided, the first thing I heard was Ethan’s voice, loud and declarative. “Alright, everyone, new game,” he announced to the stunned room. “Hailey and I are taking a picture together. I want to see a thousand likes on it. The moment it hits a thousand, I’m dumping Audrey and taking Hailey to get a marriage license.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room without a backward glance. Just before the door swung shut, Hailey looked over her shoulder and gave me a look of pure, triumphant victory. After they left, the room began to empty. The spell was broken. Someone snickered as they walked past. “She has no idea who she’s dealing with. Pushed him too far, and now she’ll regret it.” Another person, one of the kinder ones, stopped by my table. “Look, your pride isn’t worth losing him over. Just go apologize. You know he’ll take you back. Before he really does go and marry Hailey.” I knew, of course, that this was all a twisted test. It was his way of forcing me to bend, to come crawling back and admit I was wrong. But this time, I wouldn’t. Not even if it killed me. Soon, the once-boisterous room was empty, leaving just me and the wreckage. I picked up a half-empty bottle of tequila from the table and drank straight from it, the fiery liquid searing a path down my throat. The burn brought tears to my eyes. A relationship that had spanned decades was really over. Just like that. A corporate marriage a thousand miles south. He couldn’t bother me there. I didn’t understand why, then, my face was already wet with tears. Back at our apartment, I started packing. Ethan and I were childhood sweethearts. We’d spent more of our lives together than apart. The sheer volume of shared history was suffocating. Untangling my life from his felt like an archeological dig. Here was the little red paper star he’d won in kindergarten. He had toddled over to me, his little legs working so hard, and pressed it into my palm. I could still hear his lisping voice: “I’m gonna give all the best things to you, Audrey.” Here was the photo he’d secretly taken of my mortified face the day I got my first period. I’d missed the health class lesson and was convinced I was dying of a rare disease. I’d run to him in a panic, telling him to take care of himself for the rest of his life, that he could get a new girlfriend but she couldn’t be prettier than me. He’d been utterly baffled until he figured it out. He ran to the corner store and bought me pads, and then we sat together and looked up how to use them online. He teased me for not paying attention in class, and I, red-faced and humiliated, bit his arm as hard as I could. Years later, he told me it didn’t hurt at all, but that it was the first time he’d ever felt something different for me. Then we were a couple, separated by different colleges, our relationship measured in bus tickets and mileage. Four years. One hundred and twenty thousand miles was the distance we crossed to be with each other. Back then, his world revolved around me. He never once complained about the hours on the road. My fingers brushed against a small, hard box. Inside were the simple silver bands we’d made for each other. I had moved back to this northern city for him the day after graduation. He’d immediately dragged me to a jewelry-making workshop. I remember the weight of the ring as he slipped it on my finger. “With this ring,” he’d whispered, “you’re mine. Locked down for life. Don’t even think about leaving me.” Neither of us could have imagined that he would be the one to let go. 3 The day Hailey interviewed for a position at the company, her performance was abysmal. Ethan was openly dismissive of her. I didn’t give the under-qualified, unimpressive candidate a second thought. I never understood how, against all odds, she was not only hired but was promoted from an anonymous cubicle dweller to Ethan’s executive assistant. The first time I truly felt the ground shift beneath my feet was when I saw my ring—our custom-made, one-of-a-kind ring—on Hailey’s finger. In the beginning, when I confronted him, Ethan was patient. He’d explain, soothe my fears, and charm me back into complacency. But over time, his patience wore thin, replaced by a constant, simmering irritation. My willingness to forgive, to compromise, to appease him, only emboldened him. His favoritism toward Hailey became more and more flagrant. Company dinners were catered exclusively with her favorite dishes. She started working half-days, spending the rest of her time with Ethan at lunches, galleries, and matinees, while her actual duties as his assistant were quietly offloaded onto my plate. Her name started creeping into our conversations with increasing frequency. First, it was casual praise and admiration. Then, it became comparisons. I wasn’t as easy-going as Hailey. I wasn’t as thoughtful as Hailey. One afternoon, during a coffee run, Ethan mentioned how good his iced latte was. Hailey, sitting nearby, pouted and said she wanted to try. Without a word, Ethan slid his cup over to her. She took the straw, the same one he’d been drinking from, and took a long sip, leaving a perfect pink lipstick print behind. Then, Ethan took the cup back and, without wiping it, continued drinking right where her lips had been. In that moment, it felt like an invisible hand had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it was bruised and aching. After that, Hailey’s “platonic” encroachments became more frequent and more brazen. She’d rub sunscreen all over his arms and neck at company picnics, claiming she was worried he’d get burned. She started bringing him homemade lunches on the same days I did, then would eat the one I made, gushing about my “amazing” cooking skills while Ethan ate hers. He even canceled the elaborate birthday dinner he’d promised me because Hailey came down with a minor cold. Every time I expressed my unhappiness, my sense of betrayal, he would shut me down with the same infuriating line. “God, Audrey, you have such a dirty mind. Hailey and I are just friends. It’s a completely platonic relationship. Stop projecting your own insecurities onto her.” Toward the end, even he didn’t sound convinced when he said it. The blow that shattered my remaining denial came when our industry held its annual gala. It was a black-tie event, and attendance with a partner was expected. Ethan never even mentioned it to me. He took Hailey. I only found out after the fact, when several acquaintances awkwardly asked if Ethan and I had broken up. When I confronted him, he somehow managed to be angrier than I was. “I was helping Hailey network! I was developing talent for the company! Why do you have to be so damn petty about everything?” We didn’t speak for a long time after that. Long enough that I thought, this time, it might actually be the end. Then, late one night, my phone lit up with a text from him: Babe, my stomach hurts. All the walls I had built, all my carefully constructed indifference, crumbled in an instant. And so the toxic cycle began again: I would confront him, he would get angry, I would placate him, and he would forgive me. I snapped the ring box shut and threw it into the trash bag at my feet. Deep in a drawer, I found one last artifact: an apology letter he’d written me when we were eighteen because he’d forgotten to text me back once. He had been so afraid of losing me then. Now, the only person he was afraid of losing was Hailey. I took the letter and tore it into tiny pieces, letting them fall like snow into the trash. With decades of emotional baggage cleared out, the apartment felt vast and empty. My heart felt like it had been emptied out right along with it. The company group chat was still buzzing with photos from the party. Hailey making Ethan laugh, Hailey feeding him a piece of his own birthday cake. My colleagues, sensing the shift in power, were all rushing to validate the new royal couple. “OMG, Ethan and Hailey are so perfect together.” “A guy needs a girl like Hailey, not someone like Audrey who’s always miserable and nagging.” “Let’s be real, Audrey only has her job because of her family. Hailey earned her position. There’s no comparison.” I was done reading. I closed the app and dialed my lawyer’s number. I told him to begin the process of liquidating all my investments in Ethan’s company, effective immediately. 4 The next morning, I went to the office to pack up my personal belongings. I walked into my private lounge—a small, quiet office Ethan had designed for me years ago—to find Hailey reclining on the sofa, her feet propped up on my desk. She was wearing a short, silk nightgown. Her makeup, her clothes, her personal effects were strewn across every surface. My things—my books, my photos, my awards—had been unceremoniously dumped in a pile outside the door. This room was my sanctuary. A place Ethan had created specifically for me. Everyone in the company knew it was my space; no one would have dared to set foot inside without permission. Hailey’s actions were a deliberate, blatant declaration of victory. She wasn’t just moving in; she was pissing on the ashes of my territory. I didn’t even bother speaking to her. I turned around, walked out, and called the police. In the sterile mediation room at the local precinct, Hailey’s composure finally cracked. “I was just getting a file for Ethan,” she said, her voice trembling. “Do you really need to call the cops over something so small?” “That is my private, personal space. Did I give you permission to enter it?” I asked calmly. “Entering without asking… isn’t that just another word for theft?” At the word ‘theft,’ Hailey’s eyes welled up with tears. I felt a familiar sense of dread. I knew what was coming. Sure enough, I turned to see Ethan standing in the doorway, his face a thundercloud. “Ethan!” Hailey cried, rushing into his arms. “I was just trying to help you get that file, but I think Audrey really hates me. She’s insisting I was trying to steal from her. I mean, you’ve given me so many gifts I can barely fit them in my new condo… why would I want any of her old things?” This room. This tiny office was Ethan’s reciprocal gift for the Up house I’d built for him. It was our “paradise,” a space filled with so many sweet memories. I had believed, foolishly, that this one place would remain untouched, a final bastion of dignity for what our love used to be. But Ethan seemed determined to personally tear down every last one of my illusions. He stroked Hailey’s hair, murmuring comforting words, before turning to the attending officer. “This is all a misunderstanding,” he explained smoothly. “We all know each other. Sorry to have wasted your time.” Then, he turned to me, his voice dripping with disgust. “What is wrong with you, Audrey? When did you become this bitter, jealous shrew? Does it make you feel powerful, using your position to bully an innocent employee like Hailey? You disappoint me. You really, really disappoint me.” His accusations rained down on me. Before I could even form a defense, Hailey started her performance again. “Ethan, don’t blame Audrey. It was my fault for being careless.”

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Chapter 1 “Honestly, you’re kind of ugly,” my husband of seven years said, staring coldly at my tear-streaked face. “And when you cry, you look even worse.” With that, he walked out and slept in the study again. But his wife, the one who cried too much, had already swallowed a bottle of Paraquat and exited this world. I am the new Strategy AI sent to take her place. “System,” I asked, “how many points did the last host leave me?” [One.] “Fine,” I said. “Put it all into physical attributes.” That night, transformed into a 6’2″ powerhouse, I walked into the study. And absolutely wrecked my husband. The next morning, I sat on the edge of the mahogany desk, swinging my legs and pretending to smoke a cigarette. Smoking is bad for you, and considering this body just ingested poison yesterday, I decided to just chew on the filter. “Ugh…” A groan came from under the desk. Liam woke up. His usually cold, sculptured face was a mask of confusion. His silk robe was hanging off one shoulder, revealing a neck and chest covered in bruises and bite marks. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He looked like a beautiful, broken mess. Liam blinked, then winced as the soreness hit him. Especially there. He scrambled back like he’d been bitten by a snake, face red with rage, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Gwen! Have you lost your mind?! That was… that was marital r*pe! And how the hell did you… have… that?!” At the same time, the System, which had been blocked all night, started screaming in my head. [AHHHHH! You stupid AI! What did you do?!] [The Male Lead’s affection score just crashed through the floor! It’s almost at -100!] [Do you realize we’re in Hell Mode now?!] Ignoring the noise, I looked back at Liam with a doting smile. “Why so loud? You seemed to enjoy it last night.” Liam froze. Then he snapped. He flipped the heavy desk and grabbed an antique vase, hurling it at me. “Gwen! I’m going to kill you! I’ll kill you!!” Thanks to the National Radio Calisthenics Guide in my database, I hopped off the desk and dodged the vase with a perfect chest expansion move. I closed the distance in two steps, grabbed both his wrists with one hand, and pinned them above his head. With my other hand, I gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “Stop it. Be good.” I said flatly, “I’m done with your hard-to-get games. I like obedient men.” [Shut up, you defective AI! What the hell are you saying?!] [Yes, my database contains thousands of “Domineering CEO” novels.] [Who asked you that?! In this world, Liam is the CEO!] [Character overlap? No problem. He can yield to me.] […] While I argued with the System, Liam stared at me, pupils shrinking to pinpoints. He shoved me away violently and started dry heaving. “Urgh! Get out… divorce… you psycho…” I shrugged. “Talk to me when you’ve calmed down, my dear husband.” Hands in my pockets, I walked out of the study, stopping to pet Oreo, our British Shorthair, on the way. Downstairs in the dining room, only one person was seated at the long table. My mother-in-law, Evelyn. She was wearing silk, dripping in Cartier, drinking Moutai, and eating crawfish for breakfast. Her phone was on speaker, broadcasting a conversation with other rich wives. “I know, right? Gwen’s been here seven years and her stomach is still flat. She’s wasting my Liam’s time. I think there’s something wrong with her.” The voice on the phone agreed, “Exactly. If a woman can’t keep her man interested, what use is she? It’s a lack of charm.” “If only she had charm! Liam comes home late every night, and even when he’s here, he sleeps in the study. If she weren’t slightly more obedient than that fox Clara, I would’ve made him divorce her ages ago!” [Oh my god, I’m so mad.] [That old hag sees you standing there! She’s saying it loud on purpose!] [Get her, AI! Use the most vicious insults in your database!] [If you slap her down, the audience will give you 10 points!] The System was howling for blood. I nodded slightly. [Understood.] I walked to the table, my temporarily male body casting a large shadow. Evelyn’s fake smile froze. She glanced at me sideways. “What? See your elders and don’t even say hello? Is this how you were raised?” I stared at her blankly, took the unlit cigarette from my mouth, dropped it on the floor, and crushed it with my pink slipper. Evelyn frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” “There are minors present. No smoking.” Evelyn: ? System: [?] Evelyn’s frown deepened. “Gwen, what nonsense are you spouting this early? Are you still asleep?” I shook my head and looked around the luxurious villa. “I thought the Pearl of the Orient was in Shanghai. I didn’t know we had one here.” I bent down, took her hand with the jade ring, and pressed a gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. “Good morning, my beautiful Pearl. May your day be as dazzling as you are.” Then I turned and walked to the foyer, leaving a petrified Evelyn behind. [????] [Defective AI, what kind of database did you download?!] After I left, Evelyn sat there in a daze. Her friend’s voice crackled from the phone. “Hello? Evelyn? What happened? Did I just hear a man’s voice?” Evelyn stared at her hand, then at the door. “I… I think my daughter-in-law just… grew a pair?” “Huh?” [Audience Satisfaction: +20] [Available Points: 20] Chapter 2 The moment I stepped outside, I shrank. Liam’s shirt, which had fit perfectly a second ago, now hung off me like a tent. I looked down at my wrists—thin, pale, veins visible under the skin. Weak. [System, the gender swap wore off already?] [Duh!] The System sounded exasperated. [You’re supposed to use points for beauty or talent! Who wastes points on a one-night gender swap?!] [But I earned 20 points.] The System choked. [That… that was just luck! The audience probably hasn’t seen anything this weird before. Next time it won’t work! They want angst! Romance! Stop messing around!] Angst… I nodded thoughtfully. [Understood.] [Wait, when you say ‘understood’, I get a bad feeling…] Before the System could finish, a sneering voice called out from the driveway. “Well, well. If it isn’t my sister-in-law. Strutting around in my brother’s shirt? Trying to advertise that you finally got laid?” I looked up. It was Lucas. Liam’s twin brother. My brother-in-law. They looked alike, but their vibes were polar opposites. If Liam was a glacier, Lucas was a heatwave. Dyed red hair, black studs, eyes that always seemed to be flirting or mocking. He walked over, eyeing me up and down. “Where are your ugly glasses today? They made you look dumb, but at least they hid those swollen eyes. Now that I can see them… yikes. Even uglier.” I stayed silent. Lucas took that as encouragement. “Honestly, I don’t get why my brother married you. You’re plain, boring, and embarrassing to take out. Just furniture gathering dust.” [System.] [Yeah?] [Put all 20 points into Grip Strength.] [Um… wait, you’re not going to—] “No wonder my brother still pines for Clara after seven years,” Lucas scoffed. “A dry, tasteless woman like you isn’t worth a single finger on Clara’s ha—ACK!” I didn’t let him finish. Smack! I slapped him so hard he stumbled sideways three steps. His brain rattled. He looked at me, stunned. “You…” He clutched his swelling cheek. “You hit me?!” I answered with a front kick to his stomach. Lucas folded like a lawn chair, dropping to his knees and gasping for air. “Ahh—you crazy bitch! Do you know who I am?!” I grabbed a handful of his red hair and smashed his face into my knee. “AHH! My nose! Gwen, you whore! I—AH!” He tried to fight back, but I grabbed his arm and flipped him over my shoulder. I sat on his chest, pinning his limbs, and started slapping him. Smack! Smack! Left and right. [System, is this enough angst?] [You idiot! Not this kind of angst!! This is a romance novel, not a Kung Fu movie! Stop it!!] [Audience Satisfaction: +35] [Available Points: 35] The System went silent. […Actually, never mind. Keep going. No rush.] Finally, Lucas stopped fighting. His handsome face was a palette of blues and purples. “Stop… stop hitting me… Gwen, I’m sorry…” He sobbed. “Please… it hurts… why are you so strong? Did you eat spinach?” I stopped. But the moment I let up, Lucas started squirming, yelling insults. “Just you wait! You violent psycho! I’m telling my brother! He’ll divorce you so fast your head will spin! You’ll leave with nothing!” I pinned him down again and said flatly, “I may be violent, but you are shallow and stupid. Disrespecting your sister-in-law with filth? The famous family education seems lacking.” Lucas sneered, blood on his teeth. “So what? I’m rich and hot. You? A dwarf with no tits trying to act like a wife. It’s pathetic.” I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you admit you hate me. Hate requires attention. I thought you didn’t care about me at all.” Lucas froze. His eyes darted away, then back, sharper than before. “Who cares about you? Don’t flatter yourself!” Then he laughed maliciously. He pointed a shaking finger at the corner of the courtyard wall. “See that? Security camera. Everything is recorded. I can call the cops right now for assault. You don’t want to go to jail right before my brother dumps you, do you?” I went silent. The System panicked. [Defective AI! I told you not to be reckless! Now you have a record! How can you romance the lead if you’re in jail?!] Lucas saw my silence as fear. “Heh. Scared now? Tell you what. Kneel down, beg me, and maybe I’ll let this slide for the sake of family.” I stood up and stepped aside. Lucas smirked, starting to sit up. Then I stomped on his chest with my pink slipper, slamming him back into the dirt. Thud! His head bounced off the ground. “Ow! F*ck! What are you doing?!” He screamed. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll—” “Call them,” I interrupted, looking down at him. “Call the police. And tell them…” “Tell them you installed a hidden camera in your sister-in-law’s bedroom.” Silence. Lucas stared up at me. The System went quiet. Slowly, Lucas turned a shade of red that eclipsed his bruises. “W-what are you talking about?! Are you delusional?! You’re sex-crazed!” “I found the evidence,” I said calmly. Lucas opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “Lucas, you say you don’t care about me. But you target me constantly. You spy on me illegally. Why?” I leaned down, staring into his eyes. “Because… you have a crush on me.” “You have a crush on your brother’s wife.” “That’s why you rushed over here this morning. You saw on the camera that I wasn’t in my room last night. You thought I slept with Liam. You were terrified we reconciled, so you ran over to check. Right?” Lucas sputtered for a long time before exploding in shame. “No! That’s your fantasy! You crazy woman! Why would I like someone like… like…” “Is that so?” I lifted my foot and stomped down hard. Lucas groaned in pain. “Then take the footage to the police. Let them see how your sister-in-law beat you into the ground…” My gaze drifted lower. “…And how you got hard from it.” I whispered the final verdict. “Pervert.” Lucas froze completely. The red drained from his face, leaving it grey. His eyes went blank. Then, unable to handle the shame, he covered his face with his hands. And started crying again. “Ugh…” This time, the sobbing was full of despair. I squatted next to him and watched him cry. When the sobbing turned to whimpers, I spoke softly. “Lucas, I actually don’t mind that you like me. I won’t tell anyone.” He lowered his hands, looking at me with red, swollen eyes. A tiny spark of hope lit up. “R-really? Gwen… you…” I smiled. “But I’m a married woman. A good woman. I won’t cheat.” “So… you can be my dog instead.” Chapter 3 The light in Lucas’s eyes blazed brighter. Not happiness—rage. He scrambled up as if electrified. “You’re sick! Who wants to be your dog?! Get away from me! Psycho!” He scrambled away on all fours, terrified I’d slap him again. I stood up slowly. [Look how happy he is.] System: […] System: [Sister, your definition of happy is… unique. But he’s definitely broken. You broke his brain.] The heavy oak front door opened. Liam walked out. The soundproofing was excellent; he only just heard the screaming. He was in a charcoal suit, hair perfect, face cold. No trace of the vomiting mess from earlier. I thought he came to defend his brother. But he walked right past me. Didn’t even glance my way. He opened the door of his black Ferrari. Cold war again? I shrugged. I turned to go inside and make some goji berry tea for this poisoned body. “Clara is back,” Liam said to the air. “I’m going to the airport to pick her up.” I stopped. “Oreo hasn’t been eating. Clara studied veterinary medicine abroad. She’s moving in as Oreo’s live-in pet therapist.” “Gwen, this is my last warning. Stop your crazy antics.” “Clara is different from you. She’s kind. She’s fragile. If you scare her…” He paused, emphasizing every word. “Even if you are Mrs. Song, I will personally commit you to a mental institution. I will tell everyone you are insane.” “Trust me. I have the power to make you spend the rest of your life staring at a white wall, regretting today.” He drove off. I stood there in silence. The System was frantic. [It’s over! The White Moonlight is back! The ultimate weapon!] [And the Male Lead hates your guts. He’s going to lock you up! We’re doomed!] [No. Not yet.] I went upstairs, changed into a windbreaker and cargo pants. I went to the garage, picked a silver motorcycle, tucked my hair into a helmet, and mounted up. Key in. Ignition. VROOM. [Loading Database…] [Fast and Furious 1-9, Need for Speed speedrun guides, Bumper Car Tactics…] [Driving Skill: Loaded.] He thinks he’s the only one who can pick someone up? So can I. Chapter 4 Neither of us picked her up. Liam waited at the airport for five hours. A torrential downpour started, hammering the glass roof. For a CEO like Liam, five hours was an eternity. He finally left, exhausted and disappointed. But I was still there. I have patience. [Stupid AI, what are you planning? Are… are you going to assassinate the White Moonlight?!] I ignored it. I saw Clara coming out. I walked up and took her suitcase. “Hi. I’m Gwen. Liam left, so I’m taking you home.” Clara looked up. Doe eyes, confused at first, then horrified. “Gwen… you… you’re Liam’s wife?” She looked me up and down with disgust. She snatched her bag back. “I don’t need your fake kindness!” She turned and walked to the taxi stand. [She doesn’t like me?] [Duh! You’re the wife, she’s the White Moonlight! You are natural enemies!] [Oh. Nemesis. A nemesis cannot become a wife.] […Please stop using the internet. Your database is corrupted.] I watched Clara get into a taxi and noted the license plate. I got on my bike. There was only one road home. The rain was heavy. I rode slowly. Clara must have seen me. She said something to the driver, and the taxi sped up to lose me. I kept my pace. [Idiot AI! Chase her! If she gets away, why did we come?] [Slippery road. Speeding is dangerous. Good kids don’t speed.] […] Then it happened. Maybe the driver panicked. Maybe Clara rushed him. The taxi skidded on a turn, spun out, and slammed into the guardrail. The front end crumpled. Chaos. People screamed, calling 911. The driver was unconscious. Clara was pinned in the back seat. Smoke started pouring from the hood. Fire or explosion imminent. The rescuers hesitated. “Door’s jammed! Too deformed!” “It’s gonna blow! Run!” I parked my bike and pushed through the crowd. “Excuse me.” [System. Convert the remaining 35 points to Grip Strength. And loan me 20 points on credit. I’ll pay back double.] [Loan? Impossible! That’s against the rules… Tsk!] [Just this once.] I grabbed the car door with both hands. Veins popped. SCREEECH. Sharp metal sliced my palms, blood mixing with rain. I didn’t stop. CRACK! I ripped the driver’s door off its hinges with my bare hands. The crowd went silent. “Get him out!” I shouted. They snapped out of it and dragged the driver to safety. I walked to the back door. More blood dripped from my hands. Through the cracked window, Clara stared at me. Her face was white as a sheet. Her eyes held shock, disbelief, relief… and confusion. Her mouth opened, tears rolling down her face. I tore the back door off. The crowd pulled Clara out. As soon as she was safe, she fainted. But right before her eyes closed, she was looking for me. I was already on my bike, heading to the hospital to stitch my hands. Passersby filmed the whole thing.

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After I paid off the ten-million-dollar debt for my sister, she decided to sue me. It started after I refused her latest demand for an exorbitant allowance. A few hours later, I found her post going viral: 【My sister is a monster. She’s living a life of luxury on the inheritance my parents left ME, but she won’t even give me a thousand dollars for living expenses!】 【She conveniently forgets she was the stray they picked up off the street. My family gave her a home, food, an education!】 【Now that she’s successful, she thinks she can bully a poor orphan like me and keep everything for herself!】 【I wish my parents had never taken her in. They should have let her starve!】 My knuckles were white, my fingers squeezing the phone. A few days later, she showed up at my door with a letter from her lawyer, demanding I sign over all my assets. That’s when I saw the GoFundMe she’d launched: 【Help an orphan reclaim her inheritance! Let’s crowdfund the legal fees to make sure this ungrateful adopted daughter pays for what she’s done and rots in jail!】 A chill washed over me as I read that line. But she didn’t know the truth. My parents had adopted her. She was the one who wasn’t their own. 1 “Just sign the asset transfer agreement, Olivia.” Avery slapped a thick document onto my coffee table, her posture radiating arrogance. “I spoke with a lawyer. As the adopted child, you have no legal right to my parents’ inheritance. I’m just taking back what’s rightfully mine.” I looked down at the agreement. It listed every asset to my name: the house, my investment portfolio, my savings, even the marketing firm I had built from the ground up over the last decade. My fingers, gripping the edge of the paper, were bone-white. I took a deep, shaky breath before I could speak. “Avery, it’s not what you think…” “Then tell me what it is,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “You’re living in a mansion, driving a Mercedes, blowing through my parents’ money, but you can’t spare me a dime for basic living expenses?” “Don’t you forget, if my mom and dad hadn’t taken you in, you’d be a nobody. An orphan who would have starved on the street. How dare you hold onto what belongs to me?!” An orphan. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I slowly lifted my gaze to her face, a face that bore no resemblance to my own. She didn’t know. She was the orphan. Years ago, Avery’s parents’ real estate venture collapsed, leaving them with over ten million dollars in debt. They couldn’t bear the weight of it. Together, they jumped from the roof of their unfinished luxury condo development. Before they died, they called my parents, their closest friends, begging them to take in their one-year-old daughter, Avery. For the next nine years, my parents raised her as their own, loving her with every fiber of their being. But then disaster struck again. When I was ten, my parents were killed in a car accident. From that day on, it was just me and Avery against the world. I shielded her from everything, including the truth. The first crack appeared at a family gathering a few years later when I overheard a distant aunt whisper, “With the Millers gone, I wonder how much of the estate will have to go to the adopted girl.” Avery heard it too. And she made the only assumption that made sense to her. “What, nothing to say? Feeling guilty?” Avery’s voice dripped with venom, pulling me from the memory. “Do you know why your real parents died? It’s because you’re a curse, Olivia. Anyone who gets close to you ends up ruined.” “You deserved to be an orphan.” “Shut up,” I finally managed to say, my voice a low warning. She paused, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, before her lips twisted into a cruel, triumphant smirk. “Oh, did I hit a nerve? Good. I’ll say it again. If my parents hadn’t adopted you, they wouldn’t have died so young. You’re a walking disaster.” I stared at her contorted expression, a profound sense of helplessness washing over me. After her biological parents died, their creditors eventually tracked Avery to our home. They showed up every week, demanding payment. I didn’t want her to carry that burden, so I quietly started paying it off myself. All these years, I worked myself to the bone to provide for her, to settle that crushing debt. I wore my clothes until they frayed at the cuffs, all so she could have a stable, comfortable life. But my protection hadn’t made her grateful. It had made her greedy. Insatiable. She lived a life of careless extravagance—designer bags, luxury vacations, curating a perfect “heiress” lifestyle on Instagram. When the money ran out, she’d come to me. If I ever said no, she would unleash hell. “Olivia, I’m giving you one last chance,” she said, her smile cold. “Either you sign this paper and give me back what’s mine, or I will destroy your reputation and see you in prison.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I looked her dead in the eye and said, enunciating every word, “The inheritance was left to me.” “To you?” she scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would they leave everything to their adopted daughter?” “Because I am their biological daughter.” She looked at me as if I’d just told her the moon was made of cheese, then threw her head back and laughed. “Olivia, you’ll even stoop to a lie like that to keep the money? That’s pathetic.” 2 “You were just some stray my parents brought home! There’s no way you’re their real daughter.” Her eyes glittered with mockery. “What’s next? Are you going to tell me you’re secretly a long-lost princess?” Seeing the disbelief in her face, I knew words were useless. I took a breath, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her toward my bedroom. She stumbled after me, shrieking, “What are you doing? Let go of me!” I wrenched open my closet door. A few sparse items hung inside—sweaters with pilled sleeves, blouses with collars washed pale. “Do you see this?” I held up a faded cashmere sweater. “It’s not that I won’t give you money. It’s that for years, every penny I’ve earned has gone toward paying off the family’s debt. Back when…” She cut me off. With a sneer, she pulled a stack of photos from her purse and threw them in my face. They scattered across the floor. Pictures of me at a business gala last month, dressed in a sleek evening gown, networking. A few others showed me getting out of the black Mercedes I used for client meetings. “You’re still lying!” she screeched, her finger jabbing the air an inch from my nose. “Wearing couture gowns, going to fancy parties, riding in luxury cars! Is that what you call cutting back?” I looked at her face, twisted with resentment, and my stomach churned. That gala had been a necessary evil to land a major client. The gown was rented. The car was a lease through the company. Behind every moment of glamour was a balance sheet stretched to its breaking point. “Avery, those were…” “What? For work?” she interrupted, her voice climbing. She grabbed her phone, her thumb flying across the screen. “Why don’t you explain that to my followers? Tell them what kind of ‘work’ requires a twenty-thousand-dollar dress.” Followers? My eyes widened as I saw her screen. It was a live broadcast. The viewer count was skyrocketing, and a torrent of comments was scrolling by at lightning speed. 【This adopted sister is shameless. Still making excuses after being caught!】 【She uses her dead parents’ money on expensive dresses but won’t give her sister a dime? What a piece of trash.】 【Go get what’s yours, Avery! Make the backstabber pay!】 “You’re live-streaming this?” I whispered, horrified. “Scared?” Avery smirked, turning the camera to capture my pale, shocked face. She mouthed a silent taunt at me. “I want everyone to see what a hypocrite you are. This is your social execution.” She turned back to the camera, her voice instantly breaking into a sob. “Everyone, you see? She won’t even admit it! My parents were so good to her, and in return, she’s stolen everything and tried to kick me out of my own home! I can’t even afford to eat… I’ve been living off the charity of friends… sob…” The comments exploded into a frenzy of rage and vulgarity. Someone threatened to find my address. “Avery! Turn it off!” I commanded, lunging for her phone. She dodged back, a vicious, triumphant grin on her face. “Turn it off? Why? You’re so good at spinning stories. Go on, tell your tale to a live audience. Tell them how you betrayed my parents’ kindness, how you’re trying to drive me to suicide!” I was shaking with a rage so profound it stole my voice. My silence was all the proof she, and her audience, needed of my guilt. “Nothing to say?” Avery ended the stream and shoved the agreement at me again. Her tone was magnanimous, as if offering a great kindness. “Just sign it. And because we were sisters once, I won’t even charge you interest on the money you owe me.” I took a long, slow breath. And then, finally, two words came out. “I won’t.” “Fine. Have it your way.” Her eyes narrowed, filled with a look of pure hatred. “You’ll regret this.” She snatched the papers from the table and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. 3 I thought if I ignored her, the storm would pass. I underestimated Avery’s talent for creating chaos. A few days later, my company was hosting a gala to celebrate landing a huge new client. The atmosphere in the ballroom was celebratory, the culmination of months of hard work. Until Avery arrived. Uninvited, she walked straight into the center of the room, dressed in clothes that looked deliberately worn and faded. As every partner and executive in my company watched, she gave a deep, formal bow. Her voice, when she spoke, was choked with emotion. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt. My name is Avery, and I’m Olivia Miller’s sister.” She turned to me, her eyes brimming with a carefully crafted blend of helplessness and sorrow. “I didn’t come here to make a scene. I just came to ask my sister one question, on behalf of my dead parents…” “Olivia… after Mom and Dad adopted you, they treated you like their own daughter. They gave you everything. When they died, they left us to depend on each other. I thought you would be my rock, my support… so how could you… how could you secretly transfer all of my inheritance into your own name?” She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking with heartbreaking sobs. “You drive luxury cars and wear twenty-thousand-dollar dresses, living this incredible life. But me? I can barely afford to eat. I just want what’s mine. Is that so wrong?” The buzzing ballroom fell silent. Every eye in the room was on me, filled with shock and suspicion. I tried to keep my composure as I stood and walked toward her. “Avery, let’s go home and talk about this. This isn’t the place.” She flinched back as if I’d tried to strike her, stumbling and collapsing onto the floor. Tears streamed down her face. “Olivia, why do you hate me so much? You threw me out of the house, you froze my bank accounts… I… I’ve been homeless for days…” Whispers erupted through the crowd. “I never would have guessed Olivia Miller was that kind of person…” “She’s adopted and she stole the family fortune from the biological daughter? That’s disgusting.” Just then, as if on cue, Avery’s face went white. She clutched her chest, gasping for air, and then her body went limp as she slumped to the floor. “Someone call 911!” The room descended into chaos. 4 After the gala, my credibility at the company was in free fall. Key partners began to pull back, citing concerns. A group of self-proclaimed “justice warriors” started protesting outside my office building with signs. The online campaign accusing me of “stealing from an orphan” intensified. I scrolled through the hateful comments and then quietly locked my phone. Compared to losing my parents and facing down a mountain of debt with a child to raise, this was nothing. But I never imagined Avery could sink lower. On the anniversary of my parents’ death, I went to the cemetery. After leaving flowers at their grave, I made my way to the plot where Avery’s parents, the Walkers, were buried. I stood before their headstone, looking at the warm, kind smiles in the engraved photograph. They had always treated me like a daughter, too. Tears pricked my eyes. As I stood lost in memory, a commotion broke the silence. I turned, stunned, to see Avery marching into the cemetery with a crowd of people and a cameraman in tow. “That’s it!” she shouted, pointing at the headstone next to hers. “That’s my sister’s biological parents’ grave!” Before I could react, she rushed forward and kicked the bouquet of white lilies I had just placed, sending them scattering across the grass. “You bitch,” she spat. “Did you come here to tell your dead parents the good news? That you stole my family’s money to buy them this fancy tombstone?” But she was standing in front of her own parents’ grave. The crowd she’d brought with her surged forward, cameras and phones pointed directly at me. 【What a monster! The Millers should have adopted a dog instead!】 【Her parents must have been trash to raise someone so evil! They deserved to die young!】 【I bet her mom was a whore. That’s why she doesn’t know any better than to steal what belongs to other people!】 The vicious curses rained down on me. “All of you, stop it!” I yelled, my entire body trembling with rage. “What, you don’t like that?” Avery walked up to her own parents’ headstone, swept all the offerings I’d laid out onto the ground, and stomped on them. “You’re so devoted to your dead mom and dad, aren’t you? Do they visit you in your dreams? Do they teach you how to be a backstabbing, ungrateful witch?” “Stop it!” I tried to push through to stop her, but the people she’d brought with her held me back. Some of them started picking up rocks and throwing them at the tombstone. “Let’s smash the grave of these losers who raised a monster!” “Yeah, make sure they have no peace in the afterlife!” Seeing this, Avery’s face lit up with manic glee. She picked up a large, jagged rock and heaved it at the headstone. “I’m telling you, your entire family line is cursed to have produced a parasite like Olivia Miller!” she screamed. “And you can watch from hell as I take back every single thing that belongs to me!” With a sickening crack, the rock slammed into the granite. The headstone fractured, a jagged line running right through the smiling faces of Mr. and Mrs. Walker. In that moment, the last shred of affection, of duty, I felt for Avery vanished. It turned to ash and blew away. “Avery,” I said. My voice was eerily calm. “You want your parents’ inheritance, is that right?” She froze for a second, then lifted her chin defiantly. “Of course! It was always mine!” “Fine.” I nodded, my eyes sweeping over the cameras. “Then I’ll see you in court.” 5 The day of the hearing, the courthouse steps were a mob scene. Avery’s supporters held banners and chanted slogans, their faces contorted with scorn as I walked past. “SHAME ON OLIVIA MILLER! GIVE BACK THE MONEY!” “THE LAW WILL PUNISH A TRAITOR LIKE YOU!” Avery stood at the top of the steps like a queen, surrounded by her adoring followers. She looked down at me, her eyes gleaming with the certainty of her victory. “Olivia, if you surrender now and sign the agreement, you might be able to walk away with a little bit of dignity.” I gave her a single, dismissive glance, then calmly pulled a thick manila envelope from my briefcase and held it out to her. “You should look at this first,” I said. “Then you can decide who should be surrendering.” She laughed. “Playing games until the very end.” She snatched the envelope from my hand. But as her eyes fell on the first page, her smile froze on her face. The first page was a copy of a faded, yellowed adoption certificate. The adoptive parents were listed clearly as my mother and father. And the name of the adopted child was Avery Walker.

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In my last life, my parents divorced. My sister went with my wealthy mother; I was left with my bankrupt father. Who could have guessed that Mom’s remarriage would land her with an abusive monster, her life spiraling from bad to worse? Meanwhile, my father, having hit rock bottom, clawed his way back and built a new empire. My sister, eaten alive by jealousy, plunged a knife into my stomach. When I opened my eyes again, we were back on the day our parents walked out of the courthouse, divorce papers in hand. This time, my sister didn’t miss a beat. “I love Daddy,” she declared. “I want to stay with Daddy.” A giddy relief washed over me. I had no desire to relive a life on the run. 1 My sister, Sophie, wrapped her arms around Dad’s arm, her voice a saccharine sweet coo. “Daddy, please let me stay with you! I love you the most, and I don’t mind being poor, I swear!” To see Sophie, who’d been selfish and demanding her entire life, say something so selfless was enough to make our father’s heart melt. He was so moved, he completely missed the thundercloud forming on our mother’s face. “Absolutely not,” Mom snapped, stepping forward. “Sophie will have a hard life with you. I have to take her.” So, Sophie going with Dad meant a life of hardship, but me? I was apparently disposable. My parents fought over Sophie’s custody like two dogs over a bone. It was as if I were invisible, a ghost in the room. In the end, they couldn’t argue with Sophie’s own iron-willed decision to go with Dad. Only then did Mom turn to me, her choice made by default. I followed her into the gleaming black Mercedes that belonged to my future stepfather. Sophie, clutching Dad’s hand, practically skipped away. Just before she left, she shot a triumphant, challenging look over her shoulder at me. I didn’t care. After all, at this moment, Mom had all the money, and Dad’s life was a complete disaster. 2 In my last life, Dad dragged me from one dingy apartment to another, always trying to outrun his creditors. There was no way for me to focus on school. The collapse of his business and Mom’s departure had shattered him. He surrendered completely, hiding out in cheap rentals, drowning himself in bourbon, and letting the world fall apart around him. I was at the top of my class, but I couldn’t afford tuition. I had to take care of him, which meant dropping out to find work. We came from the same womb, but Sophie had always been the lucky one. She was beautiful and knew exactly how to charm our parents. They both adored her. Plus, she was younger. You’re the older sister, Tessa, they’d always say. You should be mature. Let your sister have her way. Even in divorce, she was the only one they wanted. But in this life, her choice to stay with Dad gave him a rare moment of victory in front of Mom. The second the car door closed, Mom started in on me. “You were never the pretty one, Tessa, and you have a difficult personality. We’re going to live with Arthur now. For God’s sake, don’t embarrass me.” It was almost funny. What kind of mother says that to her own daughter? But it didn’t matter. The car glided through a set of ornate iron gates and into The Ridges, a neighborhood of sprawling mansions. I knew my stepfather from the previous life was rich, but I hadn’t realized he was this rich. Arthur enrolled me in Northwood Prep, the best private academy in the city. A driver took me to and from school every day. To make up for the education I’d lost in my past life, I poured everything I had into my studies. I was driven, and it paid off. Every year, I was in the top three of my class. My mother, who had previously ignored me, was suddenly eager to attend parent-teacher conferences. For her, it was a chance to be envied by the other parents and praised by the teachers for having such a brilliant daughter. Since Arthur didn’t have any children of his own, my life in this house was, for the most part, peaceful and comfortable. “Arthur,” I said one evening, “I’d like to study abroad.” “Study abroad? Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother scoffed before Arthur could even respond. “Just because you get good grades doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want.” It was then I realized that sometimes, a person’s hatred for you doesn’t need a reason. Even if that person is your own mother. 3 Arthur wasn’t the monster my mother and Sophie had described in my past life—volatile, tyrannical, violent. On the contrary, I found him to be incredibly intelligent, though proud and guarded. The cracks in his marriage to my mother began to show not long after we arrived. My mother was a classic trophy wife—all beauty, no substance. In a way, she and my father were a perfect match. Dad was a textbook case of new money, a trust-fund kid who was all muscle and no brains. He’d used a combination of brute force and cash to win her over. While my grandparents were alive, they kept the family business afloat. After they passed, Dad let his pack of sycophantic “friends” talk him into one bad investment after another, losing everything his parents had left him. My mother immediately found his replacement and filed for divorce. My plans to study abroad were stalled by my mother’s objections. But with my grades, I knew I could easily get into a top university here in the States. “Sophie’s here!” “Maria, is my mother home?” I heard her ask our housekeeper. “Your mother is out shopping, dear. But your sister is upstairs reading.” I heard Sophie’s footsteps coming down the hall. Without knocking, she pushed my door open. “Honestly, Tessa, who are you trying to impress? There’s no one home. Put the book down.” With a flick of her wrist, she snatched the novel out of my hands. Sophie was officially in Dad’s custody, but she came to this house nearly every month to get money from Mom, along with new clothes and jewelry. She always left with her car stuffed to the brim. By the next month, however, she’d be back in ragged clothes. Our father, who had added gambling to his list of vices in this life, took everything of value and sold it for cash. My mother couldn’t bear to see Sophie living in poverty. She’d even tried to convince Arthur to let Sophie move in with us. Arthur had agreed, but surprisingly, our father refused to let her go. Sophie had become his lifeline, his tool for prying money and goods from our mother. “You’re going to read your brain into mush,” Sophie sneered, rummaging through my things. “What’s the point? You’re not as pretty as me, and Mom and Dad don’t even like you.” She paused, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “This life you have? This was supposed to be mine. I’m letting you have it. You just enjoy it while you can. It won’t last long.” She was right. In our previous life, this had been her princess bedroom. She surveyed the room with disgust. “Tsk, tsk. You don’t even know how to enjoy the good life. Look at all this junk you buy.” She gestured at my bookshelf. “All you do is stare at these stupid, smelly books.” I ignored her, letting her have her tantrum. “Sophie! Is that my darling girl I hear?” I watched, cold and detached, as they performed their little play of mother-daughter affection downstairs. When Mom came up and saw my room in disarray, she didn’t bat an eye. “What could you possibly find in her room? Come on, let’s go to mine. I just bought a ton of new clothes and jewelry. Take whatever you like.” She pulled Sophie out of the room, not once glancing my way, not a single word of concern for me. A few moments later, Maria, our housekeeper, came in with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. She began tidying my room with practiced ease. “I have never seen a mother play favorites so openly,” she murmured. It doesn’t matter, I thought. Her good days are numbered. 4 A furious argument erupted downstairs. “You have no shame!” Arthur’s voice boomed through the house. “You live in my house, wear the clothes I buy you, and you’re cheating on me with some boy toy!” The sharp crack of a slap echoed, and I knew it had landed on my mother’s face. Sophie immediately rushed to intervene. Arthur, blind with rage, shoved her, and she stumbled to the floor. “And don’t even get me started on you,” he snarled at Sophie. “The agreement was one daughter each. Why are you always over here? Every time you show up, half the things in this house disappear!” “She takes my things, what’s it to you?” Mom retorted. “Your things? Look at yourself. Is there a single thing on your body that I didn’t pay for? And now you expect me to support your entire broke family?” “Don’t you dare, Arthur Quinn!” Mom screamed. “If you weren’t sterile, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere!” That was it. That was the line. My mother’s words had utterly destroyed him. He lost all control, grabbing her designer bags and clothes and hurling them toward the door. When she tried to stop him, he threw her to the ground. None of the staff dared to step in. Sophie cowered in a corner, motionless. Arthur had married my mother for two reasons: she was beautiful, and she came with two children. After the wedding, he had begun to mentor me, treating me almost like a successor. In the previous life, however, my mother had used this to her advantage, squandering Arthur’s fortune without a second thought. Sophie was beautiful but utterly vapid. That would have been tolerable, but the two of them were both greedy and foolish. Mom’s affairs were one thing, but Sophie had bragged all over town that everything Arthur owned would one day be hers. Word got back to Arthur, of course. No man wants to hear that his inheritance is already being claimed while he’s still alive. And in the end, they weren’t his flesh and blood. There was a distance that could never be closed. In that life, he eventually brought his nephew to live with him, training him as his heir and throwing my mother and sister out. This time, my mother was still thrown out. But he didn’t kick me out. “Tessa,” he said to me later, “you’re better off with me than with that shortsighted woman.” All my efforts had paid off. Arthur knew I was smart, ambitious, and had a vision for the future. I had made a point of consulting him on every important decision, always showing him my respect. I had even privately told him I wanted to take his last name. My mother, obsessed with shopping and gossip, knew nothing of this, nor would she have cared. Mom refused to leave, screaming that she would die in this house. She underestimated Arthur. A self-made man who had built an empire from nothing was not the same as my weak, foolish father. He wouldn’t be manipulated by her theatrics. “Maria, pack a few of her things,” he said calmly, then called security. Just like that, my mother and Sophie were thrown out. As Arthur passed my room, he placed a hand on my shoulder. “You just focus on your studies, Tessa. This is grown-up business. It has nothing to do with you.” I nodded. A fool is a fool, no matter how many lives they live. 5 My life continued, undisturbed. My mother called me secretly, begging me to put in a good word for her with Arthur. Of course, I refused. So she began calling daily, hurling the most vile insults at me. Without Mom’s financial support, Sophie’s life became even harder. Her grades were terrible, and she hated school. Seeing this, our father pulled her out completely. He was already drowning in gambling debt. I focused all my energy on preparing for my college entrance exams. Arthur was incredibly busy and rarely home. Not long after, on my way to school, I was ambushed. The car was in for maintenance that day, so I was walking home. I had just left the school grounds when a man called my name. “You Tessa?” Before I could answer, he clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into a waiting van. They took me to an abandoned warehouse. Someone kicked me hard in the stomach, and I crumpled to the ground, the pain stealing my breath. They didn’t say a word. They just beat me. “Well, well, sister. Is the mansion comfortable?” Sophie stepped out of the shadows and looked down at me, her face a mask of contempt. “You little bitch,” she spat. “I really underestimated you. That old man treats you like a treasure. He kicked Mom out, but you’re still living the high life.” “I’m going to find out just what kind of cheap tricks you used on him. It certainly wasn’t with that plain, boring face of yours.”

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