Category: English

The year Liam was at his poorest, he was drowning in a debt that felt like an ocean, tens of thousands of dollars pulling him under. He couldn’t even afford groceries most weeks. My heart ached for him, so I spent my nights and weekends running a small stall on the busiest street downtown, selling handmade ornaments and little gift boxes, anything to help him climb out of the hole. On Christmas Eve, the air thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and cold promise, a young couple stopped at my stall. They bought a small, hand-painted glass apple, and the girl, her cheeks flushed from the cold, smiled at me. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “I hope you and your boyfriend have a love that lasts forever.” I smiled back, a genuine, warm thing that reached my eyes. I watched them walk away, hand in hand, and decided to pack up early, to go home and surprise Liam. Then I looked up, and my world tilted on its axis. Across the crowded street, under the festive string lights, was Liam. My Liam, who was supposed to be across town on a double shift, delivering takeout to make ends meet. He wasn’t in his worn-out delivery jacket. He was with a girl, someone I’d never seen before, who looked like she’d been spun from sugar and innocence. Her arm was looped through his, her head resting on his shoulder as she giggled about something. “Oh, Liam,” she whined, her voice carrying on the crisp air. “When are you going to get tired of this ‘poor boy’ act?” 1 I didn’t realize they were walking toward me until they were almost there. As they drew closer, the details sharpened into a cruel, high-definition picture. Liam was wearing a tailored wool coat, the kind that costs more than my semester’s tuition. He moved with an easy, careless grace that was utterly foreign, the quiet confidence of someone who had never wanted for anything. He was a stranger. His eyes, those beautiful, familiar eyes, swept over me and my little stall without a flicker of recognition. He was a customer, I was the girl selling trinkets on the street. He casually picked up the most elaborately packaged glass apple, the one I’d saved for a special sale. “Wrap this up nicely,” he instructed, his voice cool and detached as he handed it to me. I stared at his face, my own hidden behind a thick winter scarf. Disbelief was a cold knot in my stomach. Why wasn’t he working? Who was this girl? And why was he dressed like a prince when he’d told me he could barely afford new socks? Was this a lie? Or something else? I forced down the wave of questions, my voice muffled by the fabric as I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Is this for your girlfriend, sir?” The words were quiet, but loud enough for both of them to hear. I dug my nails into my palms, my entire being focused on his face, searching for any crack in the facade. But there was nothing. Liam’s expression remained placid, bored even. It was the girl, Chloe, who reacted. Her lip curled in disgust. “Ugh, as if. I don’t want that cheap garbage.” Liam blinked, then a small, amused smile touched his lips. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of her silky hair behind her ear. “Relax, sweetheart. This is for Ava. When we get back to my place, I’ll have a few crates of organic Fuji apples flown in for you.” She melted against him, her voice a saccharine purr. “You’re the best, Liam. But seriously, when are you going to tell Ava the truth? This has gone on long enough.” She sighed dramatically. “If you hadn’t lost that stupid game of Truth or Dare, you never would have had to ask her out in the first place. I can’t believe she’s still clinging to you.” Then, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, laced with venom. “I told you, all these charity cases are the same. They just smell the money on you.” Her words hit me like a physical blow, a crack of thunder that left my ears ringing. I ducked my head, pretending to fuss with the wrapping paper as tears burned hot behind my eyes. For his money? I thought of the past two years. The money I’d spent on him—on his rent, his groceries, his ‘debt’—had to be close to ten thousand dollars. My savings. My emergency fund. All of it, gone. If he was so rich, why had he let me? Why had he lied? I lived in a constant state of anxiety, skipping meals to save a few dollars, wearing my coats until they were threadbare, all because I was terrified his lenders would show up at our door again. Was it fun for him? Watching me play the fool? All those nights I’d held him, telling him everything would be okay, he must have been laughing inside. A bitter fire began to burn in my chest. I wanted to scream, to demand an answer. But before I could speak, Liam’s voice cut through my thoughts, a low murmur meant for Chloe. “Hey, come on. I haven’t told Ava who I am yet, so you can’t go spreading it around campus, okay?” Chloe pouted. “Liam, don’t tell me you’re actually starting to like her?” His body went rigid for a split second before he scoffed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just having some fun with her. You think I’d ever be serious about a girl like that?” His gaze, sharp and questioning, suddenly landed back on me. “Hey, lady. Is it ready yet?” I looked up, right into his eyes. The questions I wanted to scream died in my throat. My hand, trembling slightly, held the bag out to him. Chloe snatched it from my grasp before he could. “Come on, Liam,” she urged, pulling him away. “There are so many other stores I want to see.” I watched their backs disappear into the throng of Christmas shoppers, a thousand tiny needles pricking at my heart. So this is what betrayal felt like. It wasn’t a clean break, but a slow, grinding pain. He’d told me he wore his tattered clothes because he was afraid of collectors recognizing him. I’d believed him. I’d bought him new shirts and a warm coat, none of which I’d ever seen him wear. When I asked, he’d said they were too nice, that he was scared of ruining them, that he was saving everything I gave him like a precious treasure. And I, like an idiot, had felt a surge of tenderness for him. It had only made me work harder. It was all a lie. He must have looked at me every single day and seen a pathetic, gullible fool. My love, my sacrifice—it was all just a game for a rich boy with too much time on his hands. I closed my eyes, the festive cheer of the street suddenly feeling mocking and cruel. The energy to sell anything else had evaporated. Shivering in the wind that cut straight through my thin coat, I packed up my cart and began the long, lonely walk home. I didn’t know that after I left, Liam returned, a frown creasing his handsome face as he stared at the empty patch of sidewalk where my stall had been. He’d heard something in the vendor’s voice, a familiar cadence that had unsettled him. But there was no one there. It must have been his imagination. “See, Liam? I told you it was nothing,” Chloe said, her voice laced with impatience. “Besides, even if Ava found out, she’d probably just cling to you even tighter.” He scanned the crowd one last time, a faint, inexplicable unease settling in his gut, before letting her pull him away. He just hoped he was wrong. Back in our small, drafty apartment, I stared blankly at the ceiling. The sound of a key in the lock made my stomach clench. Liam walked in, holding a small, elegantly wrapped bag—the one from my stall. His voice was bright, full of the manufactured cheerfulness he always used with me. “Ava, baby, look what I brought you!” I didn’t answer. Liam was beautiful. There was no other word for it. He had finely sculpted features, and a small mole just below the corner of one of his expressive, almond-shaped eyes. When he looked at me, those eyes had always seemed to overflow with a love so profound it made me feel like the only person in the world. He was tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders and long legs. Even in the cheap, secondhand clothes he wore for me, he carried himself with an innate elegance. I’d once asked him why he didn’t try modeling to make extra money. He’d deflected, mumbling something about it being too competitive. Now I knew the real reason: he couldn’t risk someone from his real life recognizing him. He couldn’t risk me finding out and latching onto him for good. He came over to the couch and wrapped his arms around me from behind, nuzzling his face into my neck. His lips were warm against my skin. “Why so quiet?” he whispered. I gently pried his hands from my waist and slid away from his embrace. “I’m just tired,” I said, my voice flat. The energy to play along, to continue this charade, was gone. I was about to confront him, to ask him everything, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Liam pulled it out. A flicker of something—guilt?—crossed his face as he read the screen. He saw me watching and quickly shoved the phone back into his pocket, forcing a casual smile. “It’s my boss,” he explained. “Things are crazy tonight, they need me to come back in for a few hours.” I said nothing. I didn’t have to. He filled the silence himself, pulling a soft cashmere scarf from the bag he’d brought. He looped it around my neck, his fingers brushing against my skin. His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur. “I hope my Ava knows I want to be by her side for every holiday.” I looked up at him then. The little mole by his eye seemed to catch the light. I used to love his eyes, how they made me feel so completely seen, so cherished. Now, I couldn’t read them at all. They were just a beautiful, empty reflection. “Liam, I…” He cut me off, leaning in to kiss my forehead, his tone laced with a convincing regret. “I know, baby. I hate that I have to leave you for even a second. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.” And with that, before I could say another word, he was gone. I stared at the closed door. In the brief moment his phone screen had been angled toward me, I had seen the sender’s name. It was Chloe. The message read: The fireworks by the lake are gorgeous. Wish you were here. A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. What was I even holding on to? Maybe, deep down, I’d known something was wrong for a while now. I’d just chosen not to see it. But now the truth had been flayed open, raw and bleeding, and the pain in my chest was a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs. I fell into a fitful sleep, my dreams a chaotic reel of my time with Liam. I woke to a damp pillow, which I stripped from the bed and threw into the trash without a second thought. It was part of a matching set we’d bought together. It didn’t matter anymore. For months, I had pinched every penny, denied myself every small comfort, all to save a little extra money for him. And in return, I got this. A lie. A joke. My gaze fell on the thin coat I’d worn to the stall, still hanging by the door. It was useless against the winter wind; the cold seeped in from every direction. I took it down, folded it neatly, and dropped it into the trash can on top of the pillowcase. Then I called a cab and went to the largest, most expensive department store in the city. The moment I stepped through the revolving doors, I saw them. Liam and Chloe, standing near the jewelry counter, laughing at something he’d said. My first instinct was to turn and walk away, to pretend I hadn’t seen them. But Liam’s eyes were sharp. He spotted me. “Ava? What are you doing here?” I froze, the question catching me off guard. For a second, I couldn’t figure out what he meant by it. Chloe’s arm tightened around his. She looked me up and down, her expression a mask of pure condescension. “This place is a little out of your price range, isn’t it?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The air around us felt thick, heavy with unspoken things. Their questions were so full of holes, of contradictions. How had I never noticed before? It’s true what they say—sometimes you have to step away from the painting to see the whole picture. I took a deep breath, deciding it wasn’t worth it. I turned to leave. Liam sidestepped, blocking my path. “Since you’re here, you can help us pick out a Christmas present.” “Help who? Chloe?” I forced a cold, brittle laugh. “Sorry. I think I’ll pass.” The flesh of my palm stung where my nails were digging in. I had never, not once, said no to him. The look of genuine shock on his face was almost satisfying. “Ava, don’t be like that,” he said, his voice laced with a frustrated sigh. “Chloe is just my sister.” I held his gaze for a long moment. The little mole by his eye seemed to disappear into the shadows. “What kind of sister?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “The kind you kiss under the mistletoe?” Without waiting for an answer, I pushed past him and walked out of the store. From behind me, I could hear his strained voice trying to soothe her. “She’s just upset, Chloe. Don’t pay any attention to her.” Back on campus, I made it to my Political Science lecture fifteen minutes early, a first for me. The professor raised an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn’t used to seeing me. Between my classes and the stall, I was usually sprinting in at the last possible second, if I wasn’t late. My reputation with him was not stellar. I saw a flicker of approval in his eyes, but before he could say anything, Chloe swept into the lecture hall, a stack of books in her arms. She made a point of sitting right next to me. As she arranged her things, she let her left wrist fall onto the desk with a delicate clink. A gold chain bracelet, studded with tiny, winking diamonds. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice a low purr meant only for me. “Liam gave it to me.” I didn’t look at her. I just turned my gaze to the front of the room. My non-reaction seemed to throw her off. She sat in silence for the rest of the lecture. But as soon as the professor dismissed us, her voice rang out, high and panicked. “Oh my god! My bracelet! It’s gone!” She put on a convincing show of tears. “My boyfriend just gave it to me today! Please, can everyone help me look?” A sick feeling washed over me. I knew exactly where this was going. I started packing my bag, desperate to get out of there, but as I lifted my textbook, the gold bracelet slid from between the pages and clattered onto the floor. Chloe gasped and snatched it up. She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes wide with manufactured betrayal. “Ava! I can’t believe you! You stole my bracelet! My boyfriend gave this to me!” Her voice was loud, catching the attention of everyone still in the room. Murmurs and accusatory glances turned in my direction. I felt trapped, voiceless. I just wanted to disappear. And then I saw him. Liam was standing by the door, his face a thunderous mask, his eyes dark and fixed on me. “You told me you didn’t want a gift,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “So why would you steal hers?” I stared at him, stunned. The injustice of it all was a lump in my throat. “You really believe I did this?” The words came out as a wounded whisper. He didn’t have to answer. His silence was answer enough. He walked over, his expression cold and unforgiving. He placed a small, beautifully wrapped box on my desk. “I really thought you were different,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “I guess I was wrong.” He didn’t give me another glance. He just took Chloe’s hand and led her out of the room, leaving me alone in a sea of judging eyes. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t draw a full breath. Back in my apartment, I opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a silver bracelet. It was a near-perfect copy of Chloe’s, just without the diamonds. A consolation prize. A cheap copy for the cheap girl. I stared at it for a long time before closing the lid and shoving the box into the back of a drawer. A bitter smile twisted my lips. He didn’t even like me. He just liked the performance of liking me. And now he was giving me a knockoff of his real girlfriend’s gift as some kind of parting insult. This was the first expensive thing he had ever given me. Was he done with the game? Was this his way of ending it? I didn’t know. And I was too tired to care. I just knew I had to talk to him, to end this charade once and for all. I didn’t owe him a thing. And he had no right to humiliate me. Lying in bed, I scrolled through my phone, my thumb stopping on a post from the campus confessions page. It was a picture of Liam and Chloe from earlier that day, a candid shot of them laughing. The caption read: The King of Comp-Sci and the Queen of the Art School. Name a more iconic duo. The comments were a flood of heart emojis and congratulations. Buried deep in the thread was a single, confused comment: Wait, isn’t he dating Ava Miller? It was quickly lost in the tide. I turned off my phone and closed my eyes, the familiar ache returning to my chest. You can’t spend months loving someone, even a version of someone that doesn’t exist, and not feel the loss. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from Liam. Meet me at The Crestview Hotel this weekend. And pick out a nice gift to apologize to her. I stared at the message. This weekend was his birthday. So this was it. The final act. He was going to end things at his own birthday party. I hesitated. The gift I’d gotten him, the one I’d been working on for months, was already wrapped. It was a hand-bound book of sketches I’d made of all our favorite places, a deeply personal, heartfelt thing meant to show him he was cherished. Now, the thought of giving it to him made me feel sick. After days of wrestling with myself, I went. I took the gift with me. Not for him, but for me. It would be my final farewell to the foolish, hopeful girl I used to be. He was waiting outside the hotel entrance when I arrived. He was dressed down in jeans and a hoodie, still keeping up the pretense for me. I didn’t bother to call him on it. He looked anxious, pacing back and forth. He must have called me a dozen times, all of which I’d ignored. The relief that washed over his face when he saw me was palpable. He rushed over. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” My heart was beating a slow, steady rhythm. “I have something to tell you,” I said quietly. Before he could ask, the hotel doors swung open and Chloe came running out, dressed in a red party dress that looked like it belonged to a princess. Liam immediately shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s freezing out here. What are you doing?” His voice wasn’t angry, just soft with a gentle, chiding affection. She snuggled into his chest. “I was worried about you,” she cooed. Watching them, the last bit of air left my lungs. I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them, my resolve hardening into steel. “Liam,” I said, my voice clear and firm. “We’re over.” At that exact moment, the screech of tires sliced through the air. A car, coming too fast, was careening toward the curb. Instinctively, Liam grabbed Chloe, pulling her back and shielding her with his body. But in the chaos, in the one spot he couldn’t see, Chloe’s hand shoved hard against my back. I had been about to step back, to get out of the way. But the push sent me stumbling forward, directly into the car’s path. In the split second as my body was thrown into the air, my last glimpse was of Liam, his arms wrapped tightly around Chloe, murmuring words of comfort into her hair. She was the one who looked like the victim. I was just the collateral damage. As my body hit the pavement with a sickening thud, a strange sense of peace washed over me. It’s okay. This is okay. I don’t owe you anything anymore, Liam.

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The school bully hired me, the class valedictorian, to be his fake girlfriend just to one-up the school’s Golden Boy. He wanted a trophy; I wanted his money. So the whole school watched in horror as the most bizarre couple in history emerged. The violent, untamable delinquent would show up at my classroom door every day like clockwork to “clock in” for our PDA session. He’d start a fight; I’d stop it. He’d get angry; I’d calm him down. He’d pout; I’d pat his head. The student body whispered: “Is that a leash on a rabid dog? It’s like watching a wicked witch walking her poodle.” 1 Jax Thorne, the school’s notorious bad boy, cornered me in an alley. He leaned against the brick wall, something sticking out of his mouth, looking wild and unapproachable. At first, I thought he was going to mug me. Instead, he suddenly said he wanted to hire me to date him. “Why me?” I clutched my backpack straps, burying my face in the collar of my only winter coat. “You’re pretty.” He looked absolutely certain. When he took the thing out of his mouth to speak, I realized it was a lollipop. “You have good grades. You’re the valedictorian. You can crush that Liam Sterling. And you’re hot. I’ll pay you to be my girlfriend.” Oh. Crushing Liam Sterling was the key point here. “How much?” He named a number I physically couldn’t refuse. “Deal.” 2 Jax announced our relationship with all the subtlety of a fireworks display. He told everyone, probably even the stray dogs near the cafeteria. He wanted every living organism to know I was his. I accepted the title without blushing or skipping a beat. I had no choice. He paid way too much. I was in AP Calculus, and so was Liam. First place and Second place, sitting next to each other. It made sense. However— I glanced at our desks. Mine was tidy but cheap. His was organized with expensive, high-quality stationary. That was the difference between Liam and me. He came from money. I had no parents. 3 Jax swaggered past our classroom, poking his head in. His little minions behind him waved excitedly. “Sister-in-law! Hey, Sister-in-law!” I thought for a second. According to the contract, I should respond. So I nodded and smiled at his crew. To get out, I had to step over Liam. He was writing an essay. “Excuse me.” Jax said this was all about suppressing Liam. So I added thoughtfully, “My boyfriend is here to see me.” Liam’s hand paused. He moved silently to let me pass. On the surface, Jax was delivering milk to his girlfriend. In reality, he lowered his voice and whispered urgently. “Can you keep first place this time? I heard Liam’s parents got him some insane private tutor. Like, Ivy League level. If you aren’t confident, I can get you one too.” “Grades aren’t about tutors,” I said, taking the milk. “Talent can’t be tutored.” Jax gave me a thumbs up. “Badass.” We didn’t say much else, but to maintain the “lovey-dovey” atmosphere, we stood outside the door for five minutes, pretending to have a moment. Plenty of people saw it. Jax’s “official announcement” became undeniable fact. The school forum was refreshing like crazy. [WTF? Chloe Vance and Jax Thorne? Do they even know each other?] [I see Jax lurking outside her class every other period. He’s hot, but that’s scary.] [It’s real. Confirmed. Jax’s boys said Chloe got mugged and Jax saved her. Love at first sight!] I clicked on that comment and read it carefully. I turned to Jax, confused. “Mugged? Saved me?” “It’s to romanticize the meeting. Add some flavor to the story.” “If a mugger met me, would he steal my backpack full of practice tests or my coat with the frayed cuffs?” “We’ll add more lore next time.” He was certainly confident in his storytelling skills. 4 Jax and Liam. Natural enemies. Both handsome, both rich. In high school, people naturally gravitate toward the one with the good temper and good grades. Since Liam was Number Two, the title of “School Prince” fell on his head. As for Jax, his temper was explosive. No one dared to provoke him. He texted me. [You absolutely cannot lose to Liam!] “…” I replied: [Even if I beat him, no one will think YOU beat him.] [You’re my girl. If you’re number one, I look good! I’ll give you 10k for first place this time. Next time I’ll raise the stakes.] I stared at “10k” for a long time. Then, I picked up my pen and started grinding. Until a girl knocked on the window. “Excuse me, can you get Liam for me?” I didn’t look up. I just leaned forward so she could see Liam next to me. Liam went out. I knew who she was. His girlfriend. When he came back, he had a carton of milk and a bag of cookies. Homemade cookies. They smelled amazing. Maybe this was another reason Jax hired me. Because Liam had one. Weird competitive spirit. The next second, my phone vibrated violently. [I heard his girl brought him snacks?? Where’s mine?? I want some!! You can’t let me lose to him!] Gossip travels fast. I replied calmly: [No money.] The next day, my desk was stuffed with food. [From now on, I’ll supply you daily. You just have to pretend you bought it for me. Of course, so you don’t waste study time and let Liam win, I can come pick it up myself.] Then, I waited for Jax to appear at the window every day, leaning lazily halfway inside while I put the snacks in his hand. “Sigh, why are you so good to me? I won’t starve, you know. You insist on making me come get it.” He might as well have used a megaphone next to Liam’s ear. I played along. “I worry about you.” I don’t know how Liam felt, but Jax was thrilled. When I sat back down, Liam’s first words were: “You don’t have to do this.” I turned and looked at him. I remembered the milk and cookies I saw in the trash can this morning. This guy had two faces. Wasting food is shameful. I said, “I like him.” “I love him.” “…” I acted like a girl head-over-heels in love. “I’ll fight the world for him. You have a girlfriend, don’t you? Don’t you understand this feeling? I thought you would understand me.” Liam frowned. “But I won’t inconvenience myself for your romance. Stop going out to see him. It’s distracting.” I looked confused immediately. “How many times did I inconvenience myself for you, Liam? Love letters, gifts, passing messages… did you forget all that? Why is it a problem when it’s my turn? My god, Liam, you have no conscience. If you keep this up, I won’t forgive you!” Liam’s expression was unreadable. I glanced at him. I stopped talking. My acting was solid today. I deserve every penny. 5 I knew getting involved with Jax would bring trouble. But it didn’t matter. Trouble is weightless in the face of money. My homeroom teacher dragged me to the office. The teachers at this school looked at students with uncomfortable scrutiny. The office was full of people pretending to work, but their ears were pricked up toward me. “Teacher, you don’t need to break us up.” I struck first. Teacher: “?” I spoke firmly: “Love is unsolvable.” The teacher’s face turned black. “The most important thing for a student right now is studying.” “I’m first in the grade.” “Do you know the consequences of your actions?” “I’m first in the grade.” “Call your parents!” “I’m first in the grade.” “…” Oh, he asked for my parents. I smiled. “Teacher, if you want to find my parents, you’ll have to burn paper money to notify them downstairs.” This man once told me that wild kids without parents are hard to manage. Apparently, he forgot. “How many people in this school are dating? You pretend not to see them. You only target me. Teacher, besides the dating thing, you’ve criticized me countless times before. For the sake of fairness, why don’t you call Jax’s parents?” I was kicked out. I adjusted my collar and walked away calmly. I can endure his disdain and misunderstanding. But no one will cut the bond between me and my money.

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To get out of an arranged marriage, I faked being mute for six months. It didn’t work. I still ended up married to Marcus Thorne, the crippled, gloomy billionaire who ran the entire East Coast. Since my new “uncle” was in a wheelchair, I had to do all the heavy lifting. One night, I was exhausted, literally biting his shoulder to keep from screaming out loud. That’s when the comments appeared, floating in front of my face. [LMAO, they’re both faking. This is agony to watch.] [Babe, you can totally cuss him out. Our boss loves dirty talk.] [His legs are fine, he’s just a freak who likes watching her take charge.] I was so pissed, I broke my silence. “Marcus Thorne, you are f*cking useless!” He paused, then smiled, his thumb brushing my lips. “Hm? “Am I? My ‘useless’ legs seem to have cured your voice.” 1 I’m the villainess. Before I “woke up,” I drugged the male lead, Declan Hayes. My plan failed. The “innocent” heroine, Lily, got him instead. When Declan sobered up, he came after me. When he couldn’t find me, he started a corporate war against my family. Our company was bleeding money. My father, desperate, decided to marry me off. But no one wanted our failing business, and they really didn’t want me—a spoiled, volatile brat. So my dad turned to Marcus Thorne. The dark, cold, ruthless head of the Thorne Group. He was my father’s old business partner. My “uncle.” Back when I drugged Declan, Declan had pinned me down and forced the rest of the spiked champagne down my throat. Marcus was the one who rescued me. He tied my hands with his own silk tie. He made me kneel in his library and hit my palms with a wooden ruler. He was terrifying. But I was so high, I couldn’t stand it. That night, in front of portraits of his dead ancestors, I… assaulted him. I even broke the wheel off his chair. 2 After that, I ran. Now, Marcus was hunting me, too. Between the strangulation, the spiked champagne, and the screaming, my voice was completely shot. I left a note for my family and fled to Europe to “heal.” Six months later, they dragged me out of a Berlin nightclub. I pointed to my throat. The Thornes will never accept a mute bride. My father scoffed. “Our company is failing because of you. You being mute is the only reason they’re forcing him to go through with it—they know he can’t leverage this marriage for anything. “Besides,” he added, “he’s a cripple. You’re a mute. It’s a perfect match.” Me: ? 3 On our wedding night, I was shaking. My gloomy new husband rolled his wheelchair over to me. He tilted my chin up, his fingers gently probing my throat. “Mute?” I nodded, trembling. I’d heard stories. This man was vicious. And I hadn’t just humiliated him. I’d been forced on him. I was terrified he was going to kill me. “Good,” he murmured. “The walls in this house are thin.” Me: ? Marcus patted my head and handed me a small, heavy box. “My legs are… inconvenient. You’ll have to help me.” I stared at the box. You sick bastard. He was actually going to make his 20-year-old “niece” do… that. “Scared?” I nodded. Then I shook my head. I am Sloane Jiang. I’m not scared of anyone. I got on my knees, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the clasp. Marcus sighed, a long, weary sound. He scooped me up and settled me onto his lap, facing him. He put his hands over mine, guiding me. “You’re new at this, Sloane. Don’t rush. “Sit still. You don’t want to fall off. “It’s the best model money can buy. You can be… bold.” He was… teaching me how to operate his high-tech wheelchair. 4 My uncle was truly useless. I had to do everything. I was exhausted, overworked, and forced to… assist him. A month later, I was so tired I could barely see straight. I bit down hard on his shoulder, the only way to keep from screaming. If he knew I’d been faking being mute, he’d find new ways to torture me. I was mentally cussing him out when the glowing letters appeared. [I’m dead. They’re both pretending.] [Villainess, honey, you can scream. He’s so into dirty talk.] [He’s suffering too. Can’t move, just has to watch her… OMG he’s about to explode.] [She def doesn’t know his legs are fine. He’s just a perv who likes watching her be on top.] [Please, for the love of God, just insult him. We’re begging you.] Me: … I looked at Marcus. Sweat was dripping from his temples onto my collarbone. His cold eyes were dark with lust, and a low growl was stuck in his throat. His hands were gripping my waist, his veins popping. I decided to test it. My voice was raspy. “Uncle.” He flinched. “Uncle,” I said, “you are truly… useless.” His grip on my waist tightened, painfully. “Say that again.” My lips trembled. I let all my pent-up frustration out. “What, you deaf now, too? Fine. I said, you’re f*cking useless. You’re a worthless cripple.” He pushed the hair back from my neck. He was watching me, undisguised amusement in his eyes. “Hm?” Night fell. It got darker. His fingers traced my lips. “Am I? My ‘useless’ legs seem to have cured your voice.” 5 “Bastard!” I scrambled out of the bed, locking the door behind me. His legs were fine. He’d been lying to me. But I couldn’t call him out. If he got angry, he’d ruin me. The best solution was to run. Clubs, racing, golf, parties, models. As long as I was moving, he couldn’t catch me. I met my friends at a pool hall that weekend. They saw the new guy I had with me. “Whoa, over Declan already? He’s been looking for you, you know.” “Bored of him.” “Just like that? Sure. So, who’s the new boy-toy? He’s gorgeous.” His name was Leo. A model. My friend had been looking at outfits, and I’d been more interested in the man wearing them. [He’s the one! The puppy who only loves the villainess! So sweet, but so hot. He becomes a huge star.] [Sloane used him to make Declan jealous, and the poor baby fell hopelessly in love.] [Is no one thinking about Uncle Marcus? When he finds out she’s playing with other toys… the drama is going to be epic.] I handed my pool cue to Leo. “Five balls. Sink one, I’ll give you five grand.” “Sloane,” my friend hissed, “your dad is barely keeping the company afloat, and you’re just… setting money on fire.” I can live without love. I can’t live without being rich, beautiful, and the center of attention. “My dad spoils me.” They didn’t know I was spending Marcus’s money. Leo was… okay. I moved behind him, wrapping my arms around him to guide his hands. His ears turned bright red. “Such nice hands. Why can’t you aim?” He looked down. “Didn’t want you to lose your money.” Cute. “It’s not a loss if it’s on you.” After his shots, I patted his cheek. “Go have fun.” “So you’re really over Declan? Wow.” “Declan Hayes? Please. He was just a distraction.” “Ahem.” Someone was clearing their throat. I bent over the table, lining up my shot. Suddenly, a warm body pressed against my back. A dark voice whispered in my ear. “A distraction, am I?” I jumped. Declan. His hand clamped onto my waist. “You don’t just get to disappear, Sloane.” [NOOO! That’s the male lead! Get away from her! The heroine is supposed to see this!] [This is the scene where they meet! He’s not supposed to like Sloane yet!] [The plot point here is that he flirts with the villainess (Sloane) to make the heroine (Lily) jealous. God, I’m worried for Sloane.] I shoved him off. “Obviously.” I adjusted my earring. “I found better things to do.” He grabbed my wrist. “It’s not that easy.” He sneered. “I wonder… do you think I still have the security footage from that night? What if…” My heart stopped. But… my dad and Marcus must have buried that. This stupid plot. I would never do something that idiotic now. “What are you talking about?” my friends asked. Declan lit a cigarette. “She was… very naughty.” “Naughty how? Sloane climb into your bed?” He blew a cloud of smoke. “You don’t just do something like that and walk away.” The smoke hit my face. It stung. I slapped him. Hard. “You want to try that again?” He licked his lip, a slow, cold smile spreading. He looked… unhinged. If we were alone, he’d be choking me right now. [God, he’s so hot. And she’s so badass. This is my new ship.] [Are you insane? She drugged him! How can you ship that?] [I’m reading trashy fanfiction, not morals. And he’s no saint! Blowing smoke in her face? That’s either a threat or foreplay.] Leo suddenly shoved Declan away from me. Declan just laughed. “You think she’s a prize? You’re pathetic.” Leo grabbed my hand. “Sloane. Let’s go.” “Sloane.” Declan’s voice stopped me. “Let’s finish the game. You win… and I’ll call off the dogs. I’ll stop the attacks on your family’s company.” “Fine.” Either way, it didn’t matter.

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After my boyfriend’s sister was raped and took her own life, I learned the truth. And I said nothing. His parents knelt before me, begging, but I turned them away with a cold heart. When reporters came to my door, I chased them off with a kitchen knife. But my boyfriend, Ross, didn’t leave me. Against his family’s furious objections, he married me. And after we were married, he tormented me day after day. He brought men to our home, forcing me to experience what his sister went through, over and over again. … Six years later, my body finally reached its breaking point. Using his family’s immense wealth, he subjected me to a Memory Trial. “Tina, you’re not even human! Do you have any idea how good Lila was to you? How could you do this to her?!” I lay on the medical bed, a ventilator breathing for me. My body was too heavy, too broken, to even attempt a rebuttal. “Stop playing the victim! You protected a monster. Everything that’s happened to you, you deserve it!” The machine that would extract my memories was being connected. I looked at Ross, shaking my head with all the strength I had left, my eyes welling with tears. Ross sneered. “Don’t waste your energy. So you feel regret now? It’s too late. Think of the suffering Lila went through! Why didn’t you speak?! You deserve to die.” He leaned in closer, his voice a venomous whisper. “They say the pain from this memory extractor is worse than being electrocuted. Today, you’re going to experience it firsthand.” Ross had staged my trial in the city’s Grand Auditorium. Twenty thousand people filled the seats, and the entire event was being broadcast live across the nation. The case of Lila Cole had been a national sensation, a story that shocked and horrified everyone. The police had given it top priority, but with my steadfast silence, the investigation stalled. Her death was officially ruled a suicide. Ross’s parents were here. When Ross and I married, they’d had a bitter falling out and had cut him off completely. But now, knowing their son was doing all this for his deceased sister, their hearts were filled with a complex, bitter grief. Mrs. Cole pointed a trembling finger at me, her voice cracking with rage. “You worthless bitch! You curse! All these years, and you still won’t tell us who that animal was! Did a dog eat your conscience?!” Mr. Cole supported his wife. The loss of their daughter, followed by their son’s marriage to me—the woman who knew the truth and said nothing—had aged them decades. Lila was their adopted daughter, but they had raised her as their own flesh and blood since she was a baby. Ross and I started dating in high school. Lila was still in middle school then, a bright, bubbly girl who would follow me around, playfully calling me “sis.” Ross had always let her get away with it. The audience below the stage seethed with righteous anger. Someone hurled an egg, and it splattered across my forehead, the foul-smelling yolk dripping into my eyes. To ensure the trial could proceed, Ross had security calm the crowd. The moment the machine switched on, it felt like a thousand needles were piercing my skin, my scalp. My pupils dilated in shock, and broken, whimpering sounds escaped my lips. The pain wracked my already shattered body, making everything worse. Ross stood nearby, a cold smile on his face, watching my struggles without a flicker of sympathy. A doctor, fearing I would pass out, prepared a syringe with a painkiller. Ross snatched it from his hand and replaced it with a powerful stimulant. “Sir, a dose this strong… her body might not be able to handle it. After the trial, she could…” Ross cut him off. “Use this.” As the stimulant flooded my system, the sharpest edges of the pain receded, replaced by a buzzing, frantic energy. Memories churned in my mind, a chaotic storm set to the soundtrack of the crowd’s curses and jeers. On the massive screen above, my memories began to play. The first image was of Ross. He was sitting with his back to me in a memorial hall. It was for Lila. The hall was draped in white mourning cloths. A large photograph of Lila sat in the center of the room. The girl in the photo had a brilliant, open smile, but the black-and-white of the portrait made it feel jarringly wrong. Lilies rested on her casket, which was surrounded by a sea of daisies. They were her favorite flowers. In the memory, Ross was a shadow of his former self, gaunt and withered. The scene played out from my perspective. I walked forward, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He violently shrugged it off. The words I wanted to say caught in my throat. He whipped around, grabbing a fistful of my hair and dragging me toward Lila’s casket. “You’re hurting me, Ross.” I clawed at his hand, trying to pry his fingers loose, my feet scrambling for purchase. He didn’t let up, throwing me to the floor in front of the coffin. My forehead struck the sharp corner, and I felt the warm trickle of blood. “What right do you have to be here? How dare you show your face to her?!” “When the police questioned you, why didn’t you say anything?! The security cameras caught you there! Who are you protecting?!” I trembled, looking at the rage in his eyes, but I remained silent. The image on the screen blurred. The audience grew more agitated. “She’s putting on a show! Trying to make us feel sorry for her by showing us Ross’s anger. What a manipulative bitch!” “Someone like her should just die!” Amid the roaring insults, the scene shifted. This time, it was our wedding. The announcement of our marriage had stunned the city. All of Lila’s friends had turned on Ross, spitting his name, saying he had forgotten how his sister died to marry such a venomous woman. On the way to the chapel, our limousine was vandalized by a masked group of people demanding justice for Lila. But after that, the day proceeded without any major hitches. I think, on that day, I must have been happy. It was my own naivety. I actually believed what Ross had told me. There were hardly any guests. The few of Ross’s employees who did show up were only there because he’d forced them to be. But still, in that moment, I felt a surge of happiness. On the screen, a single tear from my memory-self fell onto our wedding rings. I looked up, and Ross was smiling gently at me. We had no officiant; the ceremony was simple. But for me, it was enough. I knew he didn’t want a life with me, to grow old together. The scene cut abruptly. I saw myself in our basement, my hands cuffed tightly above my head. Ross sat in a chair nearby. The warmth was gone from his eyes, replaced by an icy resolve. “What are you hiding?” I closed my eyes, a tear tracing a path down my temple. “If you won’t talk, I’ll make you understand real pain.” His voice was like an icicle piercing my heart. He lit a cigarette. When it was half-smoked, he pressed the glowing end into my skin. My own scream was drowned out by the sickening stench of scorched flesh. A wave of dizziness washed over me. I didn’t know if it was from weakness or something else, but in the real world, I could almost feel the phantom touch of that cigarette against my skin again. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. The insults from the crowd were vile, but they were nothing. Compared to what I’d endured over the years, words couldn’t hurt me anymore. Maybe death would be a release. I bit down hard on my own tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “She’s trying to kill herself!” a doctor shouted. Ross, who was sitting right beside me, lunged forward. He clamped his hand around my jaw, forcing my mouth open. A spray of blood choked out of me. “You’d rather die than betray him?!” His eyes were bloodshot, ready to burst, his teeth grinding together. Doctors rushed in to treat the wound on my tongue. The effort had drained the last of my strength. I lay limp on the bed, a doll at their mercy. I managed a weak smile at Ross. It was the spark that reignited his fury, and the crowd’s. “So arrogant! How does a piece of trash like her deserve to live?!” “Go to hell! You piece of shit!” Amid the chaos, the screen changed again. The image was from high school. The desks and chairs were an old, familiar style. I was walking out of a classroom with Ross, my backpack slung over my shoulder. We were heading to the middle school building. We waited at the entrance for a moment before a voice as bright and cheerful as a songbird called out. “Bro! Sis! I’m here!” Lila came bouncing toward us, her own backpack bouncing on her shoulders, and linked her arm through mine. I casually pulled a lollipop from my pocket and handed it to her. “I knew it! You’re the best, sis!” Lila beamed. “Don’t be silly,” I chided, my cheeks flushing. A wave of sorrow rippled through the audience. Mrs. Cole broke down completely. “Lila… my sweet girl… Why couldn’t you just tell us who the monster was?! Why couldn’t you let her rest in peace?! My poor baby!” Her cries turned to choked sobs. “You… you deserve a horrible death!” The crowd was visibly moved. Mr. Cole, though a man accustomed to maintaining his composure, couldn’t bear to see his wife in such pain. He pulled her into his arms, murmuring comforting words, but his eyes, fixed on me, were filled with a burning hatred. The memory continued. After school, the three of us went to our secret hideout. It was in an old, abandoned park not far from the school, with a little creek running through it. We had pitched a small tent there. Almost no one knew about it. We’d often bring snacks and have small barbecues there. A collective gasp went through the auditorium. This was the place. This was where it happened to Lila. When the case was semi-public, this location was mentioned in the news as police searched for clues. But the place had been derelict for too long; they found nothing. Watching the screen, Ross began to weep. “It’s all my fault,” he choked out. “If I hadn’t taken her to that place, none of this would have happened.” Then his grief curdled back into rage. He turned on me. “Lila adored you! How could you be so heartless?! Is your heart made of stone?!” He slammed his fists against the metal guardrail of my bed, as if the violence could expel the fury inside him. His tears fell onto my hand, hot and stinging. “I… I tried my best, Ross,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Your best? You protected a criminal! You helped him escape justice! That’s against the law!” he roared, losing control. I closed my eyes, picturing the girl with the sun-drenched smile, a smile so warm it could melt glaciers. “Mr. Cole—” One of the doctors started to speak, then hesitated. Ross shot him a look so cold it made the man shiver. “Speak.” “It seems… she’s actively resisting. She’s trying to block that specific memory.” A humorless smile stretched across Ross’s face. “Good. Very good.” “Then increase the voltage. Let’s see just how tough she really is.” The doctor hesitated, but he obeyed. A powerful current shot through my skull, my limbs. My body began to go numb. I was losing feeling. I knew I didn’t have much time left. I clenched my jaw, refusing to make a sound. “Who are you protecting?!” Ross’s voice was a raw, desperate roar. I opened my eyes. Tears blurred my vision, and for a moment, through him, I thought I could see the bright, cheerful boy he used to be. “I… I can’t say,” I rasped. Ross’s face darkened. He stood up and loomed over me. “You don’t have to. I have my ways. The pain Lila felt was a thousand times worse than this. What you’re feeling is nothing.” I closed my eyes again, praying silently. Please, let this end soon. As the voltage increased again, my body spasmed, on the verge of shutting down. A doctor plunged a needle into my arm—a shot of adrenaline. The numbness vanished, replaced by an agony that felt like being crushed under a steamroller. Cold sweat soaked the sheets beneath me. Ross watched it all with detached cruelty. He was going to get the truth today, no matter the cost. He was going to get justice for Lila. “You brought this on yourself, Tina.” “You’ve denied Lila peace for six years. You owe her this.” Then, just as I felt my consciousness slipping away, the screen flickered back to life. The scene was a dark basement. I was huddled in a corner. The door was kicked open. Several grotesque-looking men walked in. The last person to enter was Ross. “Are you sure you won’t talk?” “Some of them are… sick. I’m giving you one last chance.” I shook my head frantically, tears streaming down my face. “No, it’s not that. I really can’t say. Ross, please, believe me. There’s a reason.” He strode forward and grabbed my chin, his grip like steel. “What reason could possibly be more important than Lila’s life?! Tell me!” “Fine. If you won’t talk, then let them take good care of you.” He turned and walked out, leaving me alone with them. No matter how much I screamed his name, he didn’t look back.

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On a dating show, I got a call from a scammer. Suddenly, a text stream like a Twitch chat appeared in my vision. [Oh snap. Who’s getting their heart broken tonight?] [Wait, Chloe has a kid?!] [This wasn’t in the script…] But I didn’t have time for that. The person on the other end of the line wasn’t saying anything, just howling: “Mooooom…” I covered the receiver and smiled awkwardly at the camera. “Wrong number. Definitely a wrong number.” But then, chaos erupted on the other end. I heard glass shattering and a very distinct, very loud, beagle-like howl: “Arooooooo! Mom! Why don’t you want me anymore?!” CRASH! Next to me, megastar Julian Stone dropped his glass of water. Then, the howling intensified. “Aroooo! Mom, I miss you…” “Aroooo! Bad man! Don’t take my phone!” “Burp. Wifey, who is this naked guy in our house?” “Wifey! Say something!” Wait. That last voice. That sounds like my childhood friend, Liam. Shouldn’t he be on a film set? Why is he at my house? And who is naked? Julian Stone started wailing like a strangled duck next to me. “Nooo! Chloe! How could you get married behind my back?!” The chat stream floated by again: [LMAO. Is she running a zoo?] [Just add Julian to the harem. They’re missing a duck.] 1 I was on a dating reality show, Heartbeat Connection. The host prompted me to call my “crush.” I was hesitating when my phone rang. The other guests started cheering. “Pick it up! Pick it up!” The host teased, “Maybe your crush couldn’t wait and called you first!” The caller ID was an unknown number. I bit the bullet and answered. A howl blasted through the speaker. “Aroooo! Mom! You finally answered!” I sighed in relief and smiled at the camera. “Wrong number.” But then, something weird happened. Floating text, like a live stream chat, appeared in the air in front of me. [Wait, Chloe has a kid?!] [This wasn’t in the script…] [Oh snap. Who’s getting their heart broken tonight?] What the hell? Am I hallucinating? I rubbed my eyes. The text didn’t disappear; it multiplied. But I had bigger problems. My phone was about to explode. Physically. The person on the other line was howling—a specific, mournful “Aroooo” that sounded exactly like a beagle I used to own. His name was Buster. The first time the cops came to my house was because of him. He screamed so tragically the neighbors thought I was torturing him. He was the most regretful purchase of my life. More than once, I thought about jumping off a bridge with him in my arms. The howling continued. “Aroooo! Mooooom!” “Aroooo! Aroooo! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!” The host tried to save me. “Probably a prank call.” I snapped out of it and hung up. I gave an awkward smile to the camera. “Yeah, definitely a scammer.” The host nodded. “Right, right. Our Chloe is so young and beautiful, how could she…” My phone rang again. I smiled awkwardly, stuck my hand in my pocket, and hit decline. Ring. Decline. Ring. Decline. Ring. After a few minutes, the host looked pained. “Maybe you should answer. It might be an emergency.” I pulled out my phone with a grimace, praying to the PR gods. I already have enough haters. My career is just taking off… I pressed answer. A deafening “Aroooooo!” nearly ruptured my eardrum. “Aroooo! Mom, why aren’t you answering? Don’t you want me? Aroooo!” “Aroooo! Mom! Why did you abandon me?!” Besides the howling, there was the sound of destruction. Glass shattering, things falling. Flashbacks of Buster destroying my apartment hit me. Thank god that era is over. Feeling a sudden surge of empathy for whoever owned this chaotic creature, I said, “Baby, be good. Did you break something? Don’t move, you might cut yourself. Wait for Mom to come home.” The noise stopped. Then, sobbing. “Aroooo… so Mom didn’t abandon Buster?” “Aroooo… Buster misses Mom.” The chat stream went wild: [I don’t know what’s happening, but Chloe is so gentle! Love her!] [Does anyone else feel that motherly glow?] Then, CRASH! Next to me, Julian Stone, the A-list actor, dropped his glass. Then, more howling from the phone. “Aroooo! Mom, I miss you…” “Aroooo! Bad man! Don’t take my phone!” The host laughed awkwardly. “Haha…” I laughed awkwardly. “Haha…” The chat: [HAHAHAHAHA] So awkward. Help. But the awkwardness broke instantly when a new voice came on the line. “Burp. Wifey, who is this guy? Why is he naked in our living room?” “Wifey! Say something!” Everyone on set perked up. Ears open. The chat exploded: [OMG! Is this content allowed?] [Abs? Did he say naked with abs? Show me!] [Tea! We want the tea!] Someone even yelled, “Chloe, put it on speaker!” I covered the mic with my hand. I didn’t dare hang up, but I couldn’t let them hear any more. Because I recognized the second voice. Liam. My childhood friend. Shouldn’t he be filming a movie? Why is he at my house? And Julian was making it worse, sobbing like a dying duck. “Nooo! Chloe! How could you get married behind my back?!” The chat: [LMAO. Is she running a zoo?] [Just add Julian to the harem. They’re missing a duck.] The host saw my face and cut the feed. She handed me water, then got called away by the director. I scurried to a corner and put the phone to my ear. “Hello? Liam? Is that you?” “It’s me! It’s me! Wifey!” I rubbed my temples. “Liam! How many times? Don’t call me Wifey!” The chat floated by: [Nooo! The angst begins!] [Our puppy Liam is heartbroken. Sad. Childhood friends never win against the new guy.] [Better Liam than the scumbag who cheats on her and gets her killed by the mistress.] [Sob. Julian is okay too. He looks nice.] [Why does Chloe pick the trash men when she has flowers all around her?] 2 A few minutes later, the host came back, looking apologetic. I hung up on Liam, warning him to stop messing around. The chat: [Heartbreak for the puppy tonight.] [He took a ten-hour train in coach just to celebrate her birthday, and she hangs up on him.] [Justice for Liam!] The host scratched her head. “Chloe… Director Zhang wants to adjust the show’s content.” I nodded. “Sure. I’m flexible.” She hesitated. “But… he wants to move the shoot to your house.” “WHAT?!” I yelled. Everyone looked at me. I bowed apologetically and scanned the crowd for Director Zhang. “That’s an extra fee,” I muttered. Director Zhang popped up like a gopher. “Negotiable! As long as we can film there, money is no object.” I slapped my own mouth. Stupid mouth. Then my agent came over to apply pressure. Director Zhang had promised to recommend me to Director Shen for his new movie. Director Shen. Oscar winner. His new film was Oscar bait. Getting an audition with him was impossible for regular actors. If I got the lead role… I could be the youngest Best Actress in history. The temptation was huge. My agent whispered, “Bad press is still press. Even if you have a wild man at home, it doesn’t matter.” “I trust your character. And your acting.” “Chloe, you’ve waited so long for a break like this. You can’t say no.” I thought about it. Director Shen didn’t care about gossip, only talent. Seeing me nod, Director Zhang jumped for joy. Before I knew it, I was in a van heading to my apartment. They confiscated my phone so I couldn’t warn the “wild man” and “wild child” at home. According to a friend on the crew, the show had blown up. Viewership jumped from 5,000 to 120,000 as soon as they announced the location change. My heart was pounding the whole way. 3 Turning the key in the lock, I prayed: Please, nothing R-rated. Please. I pushed the door open. Something dark and heavy flew at my face. I didn’t even see what it was before everything went black. I woke up to two incredibly handsome faces hovering over me, glaring at each other. The noise was unbearable. “Get out! Don’t look at my wife!” “Aroooo! You get out! That’s my Mom!” “Tch. Mom? Does Chloe admit she has a son this big?” “Pfft! Your ‘mom’ doesn’t want you!” The chat: [HAHAHAHAHA] [They fight like elementary schoolers.] [Help, my eyes hurt from the beauty but my ears are bleeding.] I opened one eye. One face was Liam. The other… was a stranger. But he was just as hot as Liam. Liam is the youngest Best Actor winner. But this new guy… Wait, if I win Director Shen’s role, I’ll be the youngest Best Actress. So Liam will still be the youngest Best Actor? Whatever. Head hurts. The bickering continued. “Well, my mom didn’t say you were her husband either.” “My mom said men are trash.” I jumped up and covered the howling guy’s mouth. I smiled awkwardly at the camera. “He didn’t mean that! We treat everyone equally here!” I looked around. The crew was hiding in corners, covering their ears. “STOP!” I yelled. They ignored me. I sat between them, grabbing a mouth in each hand to silence them. I slammed a Pringles can on the table like a gavel. “Shut your mouths!” I pointed the can at them. “Freeze. Whoever moves, I hate them.” “I point, you speak.” I pointed at Liam. “You first. Shouldn’t you be on set? Why are you in my house?” Liam rubbed his butt, looking wronged. “I took leave. Not skipping.” I banged the table. “Is that the point? Professionalism! You can’t just leave!” Liam whispered, “But tomorrow is your birthday.” The handsome stranger started howling. “Aroooo! Tomorrow is Buster’s birthday too!” The chat: [Help! The second male lead is such a pure puppy.] [When will she realize he took the train for ten hours just for her birthday?] [Wait… who is the howling hot guy?!] [Is he… the dog? I remember Chloe had a beagle named Buster. His birthday is the same as hers.] My brain rebooted. The chat reminded me. I did have a beagle named Buster. I adopted him from a “Beagle Victims Alliance” group online. His birthday was June 22nd, same as mine. The owner gave him to me immediately when I commented. I tried to refuse, but they just said, “Open the door!” and dropped him off. I adopted him. And then I realized I was the victim. The piercing “Aroooo” brought me back. “Aroooo! Mom, why are you spacing out?” I looked at the 6’1″, eight-pack having man calling me “Mom” and blushed. I looked away. “Don’t call me Mom. Call me Chloe.” He pounced, rubbing his fluffy head on my neck. “Aroooo! Why?! Mom doesn’t want Buster anymore? Buster was good today!” “Buster pooped in the toilet! Didn’t poop on the rug!” “And didn’t steal chocolate!” He looked guilty. He definitely ate chocolate! I grabbed his jaw and tried to pry his mouth open. “Spit it out! Aroooo… barf…” “Aroooo! Mom, stop! Buster is human now! Humans can eat chocolate!” The chat: [He looks so pitiful with red eyes.] [Don’t be fooled! That is the Demon King Beagle reincarnated!] [Too late! Open the door!] I pulled my hand back. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” Wait! “So you knew dogs can’t eat chocolate and you ate it anyway?!” I grabbed a slipper. He ran around the room. “Aroooo! Don’t hit me! Buster knows he’s wrong!” “It’s not Buster’s fault! Chocolate smells too good!” 4 I sat on the sofa, fuming. Liam on one side, Julian on the other. Yes, Julian Stone was here too. He had joined the chaos. One poured tea, the other fanned me. They told me not to be mad at the “idiot.” I couldn’t tell them the truth—that Buster was my dead dog reincarnated as a human. So I said he was a distant relative with “issues.” The director had fled, leaving only the stationary cameras. The show had turned into a reality TV circus. 1.5 million viewers. Eventually, Buster came over, head hanging low, carrying the slipper I threw. “Aroooo… Sis, I was wrong.” (I made him call me Sis). He knelt and offered his head. “Hit me. Buster won’t hide.” “Just don’t throw Buster away. Buster is scared.” My eyes teared up. I saw the shadow of my dog over this man. I dropped the slipper and hugged him. “Don’t be scared. Sis said she’d never throw Buster away.” Liam crossed his arms, glaring at Julian, then at Buster. The chat: [HAHAHAHAHA] [Liam’s eyes are working overtime guarding against two rivals.] [Liam: I leave for work and come back to find my wife stolen.] We sat there until dark. Every time I got up for water, Buster gave me the puppy eyes. “Aroooo! Mom, where are you going? Don’t you want Buster?” Back to “Mom.” Whatever. A dog’s memory is short. I reached out to pat his head but missed because he was taller now. Awkward. Then, I felt fuzzy hair on my palm. Buster had bowed his head, arching his back to fit under my hand. He smiled up at me. “Aroooo! Mom!” I rubbed his head and felt a sob building in my throat. I ran to the bathroom. “Buster wait, Mom needs to pee.” I cried in the bathroom. When Buster died of old age, I thought about getting another beagle. But I couldn’t. Buster was irreplaceable. Unless he came back. But I knew he would leave me again one day. Suddenly, pounding on the door. “Aroooo! Mom, why are you crying? Did Buster make you mad?” Then, a crash. Liam fell. “Ow! Wife, are you okay? Coming!” Crash. “Wife, wait! Ow!” Chat: [LMAO how does someone fall on flat ground?] [Repeatedly!] [Julian: Don’t touch my shirt with your dirty hands!] [Liam: Stingy! Let me grab your arm!] I opened the door. The three of them were wedged in the doorway, fighting to be first. They all looked up. “Arooo/Wife/Chloe, are you okay?” I shook my head. “I’m getting water…” Buster shot out like a rocket. The sudden loss of mass caused Liam and Julian to collapse into a heap. By the time they scrambled up, Buster was back with water bottles, grinning. “Aroooo! Mom, drink!” I decided to play favorites. I shielded Buster. “Forget it, he’s a child.” Liam glared at Buster. “Fine. For Wifey’s sake.” Julian copied him. “Fine. For Chloe’s sake.” Liam: “?? Why are you copying me?” Julian: “Is your name on the sentence? So bossy. No wonder Chloe doesn’t like you.” They bickered. I tried to sneak away with Buster. Liam grabbed me. “Wife, you judge!” AHHH! Headache! I am never having boys. Chat: [Poor heroine. In the original plot, she meets the scumbag today. He locks her in a basement and forces her to have five sons, and none of them help her.] [Nooo! This is good! Just the four of them living together!] My heart skipped a beat. Was the chat predicting my future? I sat back down. Liam put his head in my hand. “What about me?” I flicked his forehead. “What?” “You pet him. Why not me?” I sighed. “You’re a human. He’s…” “Don’t care. I want pets.” Fine. I rubbed Liam’s hair. He smirked at Buster. Buster headbutted him off the sofa. I ordered takeout. Five dishes. Julian came out of the kitchen in an apron. “Chloe, get chopsticks. Dinner is ready.” I hugged Julian. “You’re so domestic! Some lucky girl is going to snatch you up.” Julian peeled me off. “Stop hugging. Someone’s eyes are literally shooting lasers at me.” I went to wash my hands. When I came back, the plates were licked clean. Buster was on a chair, belly round. Liam was wiping grease off his hands. Julian looked broken. “Are you starving ghosts reincarnated? Did you not eat in your past lives?” I sighed and got a rag. “I’ll take you out, Julian. What do you want?”

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The day I found out I was pregnant, the 60-year-old billionaire who kept me, Arthur Howard, was at the hospital with his son and daughter-in-law for their prenatal check-up. When he saw me, he showed no concern. Instead, he told me to get rid of the baby. For the sake of the Howard family’s rightful heir, he said, the bloodline couldn’t be tainted. I didn’t cry or protest. I simply walked into the clinic for the procedure. I did it because in my past life, I fought tooth and nail to keep this child, and Arthur hated me for it. The day before he died, he even demanded I be buried with him. His descendants treated my son like a workhorse, a slave. In the end, I died at the foot of his cold, granite tombstone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day, the day he told me to have an abortion. This time, I was the one who brought it up first. “Don’t you worry,” I said with a placid smile. “I’ll take the best care of your son.” 1 As I died, I finally saw the truth. Charles Howard had never loved me. He loved only himself, and the heir who carried on his corrupted legacy. “Anna, darling,” Arthur had said in my past life, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. “I won’t be able to come with you for the procedure. My precious grandson needs me, you see. And a man of my standing… well, it wouldn’t do to be seen. You’re so understanding. You’ll get it, won’t you?” It was always the same. In public, Arthur Howard and I never appeared in the same frame. I suppressed the tsunami of hatred rising in my chest and replied with the practiced gentleness he expected. “I can go by myself. You should take care of yourself, too.” He nodded, pleased. He had always prized my obedience. “Anna, keep this quiet, won’t you? Don’t let a soul know, especially not my son. If he were to get the wrong idea… it wouldn’t be good for you. After all, you’re the one who’s going to be with me for the rest of my life.” “After my grandson is born,” he’d added, “I’ll marry you.” After six years together, it was the first time he’d ever mentioned marriage. But this time, I didn’t want it. In three days, I would be done with him forever. On my way to work, I stopped by a service and hired a private nurse to assist me post-procedure. The moment I stepped into the office, I saw Arthur bustling in with bags of fresh vegetables and prime cuts of meat. In my last life, when I was burning up with a fever and begged for a simple bowl of soup, he never once stepped into the kitchen for me. “I’m sixty years old,” he’d scoffed. “You really expect me to wait on a thirty-year-old woman?” I ended up dragging my limp body to the hospital alone. My hands were so weak that I spilled the scalding soup all over my hand, leaving a nasty scar that never faded. But seeing him today, I realized the truth. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook for someone. He just wouldn’t cook for me. Swallowing down my bitterness and the gnawing hunger in my stomach, I pushed open the door to the CEO’s office. There, on the plush sofa, sat Arthur’s daughter-in-law, Victoria. Her belly was barely showing, yet she was delicately nibbling on exotic, imported fruit. And here I was, summoned back to the office on a weekend without even having had breakfast. “Oh, Anna! I’m so sorry to drag you back here on your day off,” Victoria chirped, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. Arthur poked his head out from the kitchenette, his expression all business as he looked at me, but his voice softened as he turned to Victoria. “This company will belong to my darling grandson one day. Forget a weekend, if she were on her deathbed, she’d have to crawl here for him.” Victoria shot me a triumphant smirk, clutching her stomach and whining that she was hungry. But for all his effort, Arthur could only make broth. He was completely lost when it came to actual cooking. The billionaire tycoon was sweating, utterly flustered. He saw me and immediately barked an order. “Make lunch. My grandson is hungry.” I glanced at the beautiful sea bass in his hands—my favorite. I said nothing. 2 I simply took the fish into the small office kitchenette and transformed it into a fiery, sour fish stew, along with an entire spread of tart and tangy dishes. When I brought the food out, Arthur and Victoria were already seated at the table, waiting for me to set out the plates and silverware. I brought out three sets from the kitchen, carefully placing one in front of each of them. Then, I sat down and started ravenously eating the sour and spicy fish myself. Arthur stared, dumbfounded. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Anna! What the hell do you think you’re doing? I told you to cook, not to sit here and feast!” “And what is this garbage?” he snarled, gesturing at the table. “It’s all either sour or spicy. How is Victoria supposed to eat this?” I just smiled. How could she not? In my past life, I was their unpaid maid. I knew everyone’s tastes down to the last detail. It was because I catered to their every whim that when I was eight months pregnant, I weighed less than a hundred and ten pounds. I’m five-foot-five. This life, I would eat what I wanted. I would never again starve myself for these people. I finished my plate in minutes, patting my stomach in satisfaction. Then, I casually reached over and polished off all the fruit Arthur had so carefully prepared for Victoria. Victoria finally lost it. “Dad! What am I supposed to eat? Your precious grandson is starving!” Arthur, fuming, spun around and stormed back to the kitchen to whip up something else. But there was nothing left. I had used every last ingredient for my sour feast. In my past life, I was their doormat. In this one, I was still the company’s top salesperson. I wasn’t going to coddle them anymore. “You know the old wives’ tale,” I said nonchalantly. “‘Sour for a boy, spicy for a girl.’ I wonder which one the missus is having?” Arthur’s eyes lit up. He pushed all the sour dishes in front of Victoria. “Victoria, dear, eat up! These are all your favorites.” Victoria’s face was a mask of disgust, but she choked down the sour fish, the sweet and sour ribs, and the sour plum pork. I had to stifle a laugh. I knew for a fact she despised fish and anything sour. In the end, I was the only one who enjoyed the meal. Wiping my mouth, I walked straight up to Arthur. “Mr. Howard, I’ll be expecting my overtime pay for today.” His face went dark. “I’ll have accounting wire it to you.” I discreetly hit the record button on my phone, then waved it at him with a bright smile. “Thank you, Mr. Howard!” I called out loudly. As for the dishes, they could wash their own damn selves. Stepping out of the building, I looked back at the glass-and-steel tower that had been my cage for half my life. It had imprisoned not just my body, but my youth and my talent. The moment I was hired as a junior sales rep, Arthur had set his sights on me. For him, I abandoned my childhood sweetheart, Leo, who was waiting for me back home. I chose to become Arthur’s dirty little secret. When Leo came to the city to beg me to come back, Arthur had his men break his leg. I was so blinded by his counterfeit love back then. This life, I would repay every debt. An eye for an eye. Just as I made my vow, my phone rang. It was Arthur. “Anna, that was my daughter-in-law. She’s pregnant. I know you’re upset, but your behavior today was a profound disappointment.” “Tomorrow,” he continued, his voice cold, “you will hand over that five-million-dollar account to Victoria. And we will pretend this never happened.” As he spoke, I looked up. There, on the fifteenth floor, framed by the floor-to-ceiling window, was Victoria, looking down at me with an air of smug satisfaction. I laughed out loud. 3 “I have a hospital appointment tomorrow. I’m busy.” “And Arthur,” I added, my voice turning to ice, “don’t forget my bonus. The abortion isn’t free, you know.” “If I don’t have the money… well, you might just end up with another son.” The next morning, I treated myself to a lavish brunch at a high-end restaurant and charged it to the company account. In my past life, I was always so careful with Arthur’s money, trying to save every penny. This time, I refused to be the fool. When I arrived at the hospital, I ran right into Victoria, who was there for a check-up. Her eyes gleamed with triumph when she saw me. “Anna, you really are pathetic.” “You work yourself to the bone landing deals for the company, and in the end, you’re just paving the way for me.” Victoria was the sales manager, but she was utterly incompetent. There was no way she could handle the millions in business the company generated each year. In my past life, I was the fool who drank glass after glass of liquor, drinking until I got a stomach ulcer just to close a ten-million-dollar deal. The credit, of course, went to Victoria. Looking back, Arthur knew. He knew and he let it happen. Because Victoria was his daughter-in-law, his family. And I was just an outsider. Seeing me lost in thought, Victoria glanced down at her stomach. “Arthur specifically told me not to overwork myself. No drinking, nothing stressful. He said you could handle everything. All I have to do is focus on carrying Charles’s child.” “Sooner or later, this company will belong to me and Charles,” she sneered. “And you? You’re just a tool.” Victoria had always resented me for outshining her at work, taking every opportunity to put me down. Her taunts didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was a stray thought: how could a woman who had been on fertility medication for years suddenly get pregnant after three or four years of marriage? Who really had the problem? If Victoria was the one who couldn’t conceive, would Arthur, who was so obsessed with having a grandson, have treated her so well all this time? Could it be… Charles? I suddenly remembered a time when Arthur was discreetly researching male infertility, and the lab report for a low sperm count that I’d found in his pants pocket. If Charles had fertility problems, it all made sense. In my last life, Victoria’s pregnancy was high-risk from the start. But Arthur blamed me for not taking proper care of her, claiming it was my fault his grandson was born frail. He was so terrified I would try to claim a piece of the Howard fortune that he ordered me to be buried with him. My mind snapped back to the present when Victoria’s expression shifted. She realized why I, a single, childless woman, was in the obstetrics wing. “You’re pregnant?” she gasped. “You’re pregnant out of wedlock!” “Hah! I’m telling everyone in the company!” she shrieked, whipping out her phone, ready to destroy my reputation. I couldn’t leave the company yet. If this got out, Arthur would have no choice but to fire me. I lunged for her phone. Suddenly, Victoria screamed, “Help! She’s attacking a pregnant woman!” I froze, furious. She was pregnant, but so was I. Then, behind me, I heard the voices of Arthur and his son, Charles. Charles shoved me hard. I stumbled backward and fell as he rushed to Victoria’s side, shielding her. Arthur’s face was a mask of panic. “Victoria, are you alright? Is the baby okay?” “We should get you to a doctor, right now.” Then he turned to me, his face filled with crushing disappointment. “Anna, I thought you were better than this. I never imagined you could be so venomous, to try and harm my grandson. Go to HR tomorrow. You’re fired.” When I fell, my stomach slammed against the hard, tiled floor. Pain, sharp and blinding, shot through me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Charles looked terrified, taking a hesitant step towards me to check if I was okay. But Arthur’s voice cut through the air. “Charles, forget her! Look at Victoria, she’s clutching her stomach! She’s in pain!” Victoria’s weak cry came right on cue. “Charles, it hurts… the baby… our baby.” Charles turned to leave. I grit my teeth against the pain and saw Arthur standing there, watching me with cold, detached eyes. He saw me bleeding on the floor, and he chose to do nothing. I clawed my way forward, my blood-smeared hand grabbing the cuff of Charles’s pants. I looked up at his face, which still held a flicker of innocence. “Help… my baby,” I choked out. Charles froze. His eyes widened as he saw the crimson tide soaking through my dress, staining the white floor tiles red. But the urgent calls from Arthur and Victoria pulled him away. He scooped Victoria into his arms and sprinted towards the doctor’s office. The commotion finally drew a crowd of doctors and nurses. They gasped, shouting as they lifted me onto a gurney… As they wheeled me into the operating room, a nurse leaned close to my ear. “Ma’am? Ma’am, do you have any family here? We need them to sign the consent forms.” Through waves of agony, I stammered, “No… I have no one.” The nurse looked at my blood-soaked clothes, her expression full of pity. “But we need a signature for the surgery… what are we going to do?” “I’ll… sign.” The moment my name was on the dotted line, the anesthesiologist began to push the drug into my veins. Arthur Howard! I silently screamed. I will make you pay for this in blood. 4 The procedure was done ahead of schedule. The private nurse I’d hired never showed up. I was alone, lying on a cold hospital bed. But thank God for modern technology; at least I could order food and wouldn’t starve. The next day, as I was leaving, I went to get the official certificate for the procedure. Walking past a room, I saw Victoria surrounded by Arthur and Charles. And my hired nurse was in there with them. They were in the room right next to mine. On a morbid impulse, I pressed my ear to the door. “I’m telling you, she’s perfectly fine,” the doctor was saying, exasperated. “You can all go home.” Charles was packing Victoria’s things while Arthur followed the doctor into his office. I trailed them, listening from the hallway. “Doctor, are you absolutely sure the baby is okay?” Arthur pressed. Faced with the undeniable power of money, the doctor was exceedingly patient. “Mr. Charles Howard’s sperm quality is admittedly low, but the mother is healthy. As long as you’re careful, the baby will be fine.” So I was right. Charles Howard did have fertility problems. No wonder Arthur, the ruthless tycoon, treated his daughter-in-law like a precious treasure. Since he showed me no mercy, he could expect none from me. On the way home, I got a text from my landlord reminding me that rent was due. I spun the car around and headed straight for the office to get my money. The moment I stepped into the lobby, the whispers started. “How dare she show her face? After a scandal like that.” “No wonder she’s thirty and still single. God knows how she really got all those clients.” 5 “Exactly.” … I didn’t have to guess. Victoria must have spread the news about my pregnancy while I was unconscious, using it as an opportunity to snatch all my clients. What a beautiful dream. Ignoring the jeers, I walked into my office, only to find Victoria sitting behind my desk. All of my personal belongings were dumped in a pathetic pile on the floor. “Anna, your morals are a disgrace,” she said, looking up at me with an arrogant smirk. “Arthur said you should leave on your own. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll resign and get out.” In this life and the last, she’d stolen countless clients and bonuses from me. Now she wanted me to just roll over and quit? Not a chance. I threw the office door wide open and burst into loud, theatrical sobs. “This company is just using me and throwing me away!” I wailed for all to hear. “I just closed a massive deal, and now they want to steal my bonus and kick me out! This is inhuman!” The word “bonus” is a sensitive topic in any office. Instantly, every eye in the department was on me and Victoria. Victoria’s face cycled through shades of red and white. She was trembling with rage. “You’re the one who lost a major client because of your messy private life! I was being kind by letting you resign quietly, and you have the audacity to ask for a bonus? You’re delusional!” “Now get out, you slut!” I collapsed to my knees, my face a mask of pale misery. “Everyone, please listen to me! I bring in millions of dollars in business for this company every month, and my salary is only five thousand dollars! Is that fair?” “I work endless overtime, 364 days a year, with no extra pay!” “And now I find out that the chairman and the CEO gave my one-million-dollar bonus to Victoria!” My colleagues were stunned. A few of them immediately rushed to the finance department to check their own pay stubs. Those who couldn’t get in started muttering amongst themselves. “She’s the CEO’s wife, and she’s stealing bonuses from us regular workers? How are we supposed to survive? I wonder how much of our money she’s pocketed.” “Seriously. She’s the sales manager, but she doesn’t know a thing about sales. How does she get a million-dollar bonus every year? Meanwhile, Anna works herself to the bone for a measly five grand.” The head of finance, an older woman who knew everything, confirmed the story. That was all it took. Everyone believed me. Victoria panicked. “She’s lying! For key employees, we have a stock-option plan! The money is vested and paid out after ten years to protect the company’s interests!” “Not only does she have a depraved personal life, but she’s also undermining our company’s entire compensation structure! We can’t have someone like her here! Anna, go to finance and get your money!” Swallowing her pride, Victoria immediately transferred two million dollars into my account. I cheerfully packed my things and left. But the show was just getting started. In the chaos, HR forgot to revoke my access card. At 8 PM, I went back to the office and walked to the executive suite. In my past life, every night I worked late, there was one person who always stayed later: Charles. I knocked on his office door and walked right in. “Charles, your father’s mistress is pregnant.”

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The first time I took a client out, the dinner bill was $200. Finance would only reimburse me for $100. The finance director sneered, “Personal expenses are to be paid out of pocket.” I was so furious I couldn’t even eat. The next time I hosted the client, I didn’t touch a single bite. The client was confused. My boss was furious. Three days later, the ten-million-dollar deal was dead. My boss stormed into the finance department, his face a mask of thunder. “Tell me,” he roared, “why did you cut her reimbursement?” 01 The city lights began to twinkle, painting the heart of the metropolis in strokes of neon and gold below. I raised my glass, its crystalline surface reflecting the smiling face of Mr. Davies, and my own, flush with ambition. “To a successful partnership, Mr. Davies.” The crisp clink of our glasses was like the opening note of a symphony, heralding a grand new beginning. This was the project I’d been chasing for three months—a deal worth ten million dollars. The client was a titan in the industry, and their Director of Procurement was the man sitting across from me, Adrian Davies. Landing this account would completely change my standing in the company. The atmosphere was perfect. We moved seamlessly from industry trends to personal hobbies, and I could feel the flag of victory waving just within my reach. My heart pounded with a raw hunger for success, for the brilliant future I saw laid out before me. When the evening concluded, the bill came to $200. I paid with my personal card without a second thought, my mind consumed with the imminent victory and the absolute necessity of showing our client the utmost respect. Compared to a ten-million-dollar deal, two hundred dollars was a drop in the ocean. The next day, I submitted my expense report, the receipt neatly attached, to the Finance Department. I considered it a routine formality, nothing more. What I was met with, however, was the eternally frosty face of the Director of Finance, Miranda Vance. She picked up my report and scrutinized it like a cheap forgery, her eyes darting between my face and the paper. The only sound in the office was the rhythmic hum of the printer, an oppressive noise that made the air thick and hard to breathe. Slap. The flimsy piece of paper was thrown back onto my desk. It landed with a soft thud, but it felt like a silent, stinging slap across the face. “Rejected.” Her voice was utterly devoid of warmth, as if it had been dredged up from a frozen cellar. “Personal expenses are to be paid out of pocket.” Her tone was steeped in an unassailable arrogance, as if I were a common thief trying to swindle the company. My mind went completely blank. “Ms. Vance,” I managed, trying to keep my voice steady, though my fingertips were already going cold. “This was for hosting Mr. Davies. It’s all clearly itemized on the receipt.” Miranda let out a short, sharp laugh, a sound laced with venom. “You ate half of it, so you can pay for half of it. One hundred dollars, out of your own pocket.” She leaned forward slightly, each word a deliberate strike against my nerves. “Linda, don’t think I don’t know how you sales people operate—wining and dining on the company’s dime to make yourselves look important.” Her words dripped with condescending stereotypes and unconcealed contempt for my entire department. My face flushed a deep crimson, blood rushing to my head. “This wasn’t a personal expense. It was a business dinner, for the company’s—” “For the company?” she cut me off, her voice suddenly sharp and high. “Then why didn’t you just book out a Michelin three-star restaurant? Would you have submitted that bill too, expecting the company to foot it?” She added, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “You’re young. Don’t pick up those shady habits so early in your career. Trying to line your pockets with company money won’t fly with me.” “Line your pockets.” Those words were like four red-hot pokers driven straight into my heart. I felt a wave of humiliation and rage wash over me, so intense it felt like my blood had frozen in my veins. The few other employees in the finance department shot me glances of either pity or amusement, and their eyes felt like daggers in my back. I just stood there, my hands and feet ice-cold, the words of my defense caught in my throat. In the face of her authority, any explanation was useless. Finally, I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, and forced out a single word through gritted teeth. “Fine.” I picked up the condemned expense report and filled out a new one for only $100. As I accepted the outcome, a violent cramp seized my stomach. A heavy, indigestible stone seemed to have lodged itself in my chest, making every breath a burning effort. That $100 wasn’t much, but it felt like a mountain, crushing every last ounce of my professional dignity. I couldn’t sleep that night. Lying in bed, I watched the shifting patterns of neon lights dance across my ceiling, a reflection of my own chaotic thoughts. I kept replaying Miranda’s disdainful eyes, her cutting words echoing in my mind like a broken record. The intertwining feelings of injustice and fury burned through me, making my insides ache. It wasn’t about the money. It was about my professionalism, my hard work, my dedication to this company—all of it being so casually and cruelly trampled under her heel. No. I sat up in bed and told myself this would not happen again. I would not let something so petty undermine my professional self-worth. A stubborn resentment began to smolder within me. I swore I would prove myself with my results, prove that I, Linda Sterling, was not the person she made me out to be. I swore I would never again let my personal feelings interfere with my work. I thought this was a sign of mature restraint. I never imagined it was just the dangerous calm before another, far more destructive storm. 02 A week later, I hosted Mr. Davies for a second time. This was the crucial meeting to finalize the contract details. I arrived early at the upscale restaurant I had booked. The private room was elegant, with a stunning view of the glittering river. But my mind was heavy, Miranda’s words echoing in my head: “Don’t think I don’t know how you sales people eat and drink.” That sentence was a thorn in my side. Fine, I told myself. I’ll show you. I’ll show you whether or not I’m “lining my pockets.” Mr. Davies arrived on time, as gracious and amiable as ever. The dishes were brought out, one after another, each one plated like a work of art. I smiled, served him portions, refilled his tea, and engaged in lively conversation about every clause in the contract. I appeared professional, poised. But from beginning to end, the plate in front of me remained empty. I was on edge the entire time, only taking a few token sips of water. The aroma of the exquisite food filled the air, but the scent alone made my stomach churn. I didn’t touch a single bite. My gaze would occasionally drift, my entire being radiating a tense, distracted energy. Mr. Davies was a perceptive man. He quickly noticed my unusual behavior. He asked with concern several times, “Linda, is the food not to your liking today?” “Why are you only drinking water? Are you not feeling well?” Each time, I forced a smile and brushed it off. “Oh, no, not at all. I’ve just been a bit tired lately, not much of an appetite. It’s nothing, please, you enjoy.” My smile must have been painfully stiff; I could feel the muscles in my face twitching. The concern in his eyes slowly gave way to a subtle, yet noticeable, confusion. Eventually, he stopped asking. He just ate in silence, and the once-warm atmosphere between us became tinged with a delicate awkwardness. When the dinner ended, Mr. Davies’s smile was much more strained than the last time. As he shook my hand goodbye, his eyes held a flicker of something I couldn’t quite decipher—disappointment. He said a polite, “Let’s be in touch,” but unlike before, he didn’t mention setting up our next meeting. My heart sank. I dragged my exhausted body back to the office. The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was wrong. My colleagues in the sales department were all at their desks, heads down, silent. The door to my supervisor Mark’s office was shut. The next second, the door was wrenched open. Mark stood in the doorway, his face dark, his eyes shooting daggers at me. “Linda! In my office, now!” He practically roared it. My stomach dropped. I followed him inside. Bang! He slammed the door behind us, the sound making my heart jump. “What the hell was that tonight?!” Mark demanded, his hands braced on his desk as he leaned forward, his presence overwhelming. “The client just called me to complain! He asked if our company has a problem with him. Said you hosted him for dinner and didn’t eat a single bite, that you looked miserable the whole time. He thinks we’re slighting him!” Every word was like a whip cracking against my nerves. His voice was filled with accusation, with profound disappointment in my supposed lack of professionalism and my childish “tantrum.” An overwhelming sense of injustice tightened its grip around my chest, making it hard to breathe. I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell him about the finance department, about the humiliation over that $100. But the words died on my lips. I was afraid that if I told him the truth, I would sound petty, like I was making a big deal out of nothing. Risking a multi-million-dollar deal over a hundred-dollar expense? Who would believe that? Who wouldn’t think I was overreacting? All I could do was lower my head and silently endure it, my eyes instantly burning with tears. “Well? Cat got your tongue?” Mark’s anger was still blazing. Seeing my silence, he seemed to grow even more furious, slamming his hand on the desk. “Linda, I had the highest hopes for you! I thought you were sensible, that you had judgment! Do you have any idea what level of client Mr. Davies is? There’s a time and a place to be moody, and this was not it!” I bit my lip, hard, fighting to keep the tears from falling. He had no idea what had happened. In his eyes, I was just an emotional subordinate who had screwed up a critical dinner. Mark took a ragged breath, trying to calm himself, but his next words struck me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me completely stunned. “He also mentioned,” Mark said, his voice grave, “that he sensed a poor internal atmosphere and chaotic management within our company. He now has serious doubts about our future partnership. Do you understand how serious this is?!” Those words froze me in place. The blood ran cold in my veins. I finally understood the disappointment I had seen in Mr. Davies’s eyes. He didn’t just see a woman with no appetite. He saw a company that was harsh and unsupportive of its own employees. He saw the glaring evidence of a major internal conflict. How could a company that wouldn’t even support its own sales manager’s basic client entertainment, a company whose employees carried their resentment into client meetings, be trusted to execute a multi-million-dollar contract? I finally realized. It was all because of that $100. Because of Miranda’s dismissive “personal expense” and her high-and-mighty arrogance. I wanted to scream, to shout, to pour out all the injustice I felt. But my throat felt like it was filled with cement. I couldn’t make a sound. For the first time, I understood how, in the corporate world, a seemingly insignificant personal emotion could, through silence, inflict such catastrophic professional damage. An all-encompassing sense of powerlessness washed over me like an icy tide, submerging me completely. I’m finished. The thought surfaced in my mind with terrifying clarity. 03 The next morning, I was jolted awake by the shrill ringing of my phone. The name “Mark” flashed on the screen. My heart lurched. A deep, ominous feeling gripped me. With a trembling hand, I answered the call. Mark’s voice on the other end was heavier than I had ever heard it, laced with a raw hoarseness. “Linda… I just got the official email. Davies is canceling the deal.” His tone was a mixture of barely suppressed rage and, more than anything, a profound, weary disappointment. Boom. My mind went completely blank. The world suddenly muted, all sound fading into nothing. The phone slipped from my nerveless grasp and hit the floor with a dull thud. Ten million dollars. The project my team and I had poured months of our lives into. My hopes for a promotion, my career blueprint, all my effort and anticipation… Gone. Like a giant soap bubble, pricked and vanishing into thin air. The world was suddenly devoid of color. I don’t know how I managed to get to the office. The atmosphere was strange. Colleagues were gathered in small groups, whispering amongst themselves. Their voices were low, but they felt like a thousand tiny needles, pricking my ears, stabbing at my back. I could hear them clearly: “Did you hear? The big Davies deal is dead. Because of Linda.” “Seriously? I thought she was Mark’s star player.” “Well, I heard she gave the client a major attitude at dinner, threw a fit. Pissed him right off. A multi-million-dollar deal, gone just like that. Some people.” “Jeez, so unprofessional. Great, now the whole department’s year-end bonus is probably shot.” I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice. I hadn’t just lost the most important deal of my career; I was being branded as “unprofessional,” “moody,” and “a liability to the team.” In everyone’s eyes, I was the villain. My career had just been publicly sentenced to death. I walked numbly toward my desk, each step feeling like I was walking on broken glass. Just then, the door to Mark’s office was once again flung open. He strode past me, radiating a thunderous fury, and marched straight toward the finance department at the end of the hall. A moment later, a furious roar echoed through the entire floor. “Miranda! Get out here!” The office fell instantly silent. Everyone looked up in shock. I couldn’t make out the specifics of their argument, only the sound of Mark’s rage, which seemed powerful enough to tear the roof off, and Miranda’s sharp, unyielding replies. A faint flicker of hope ignited within me. My boss… does he finally know the truth? Is he standing up for me? But that hope was quickly drowned by a wave of despair. So what if he argues with her? The deal is gone. The client’s trust is lost. I’ve already been crucified. It’s too late. This whole incident made me deeply question my trust in the company, in the very idea of fairness in the workplace. A finance director who wielded regulations like a weapon, completely ignoring the realities of the front-line business. A manager who, when a problem arose, only blamed his subordinate without first trying to understand the full story. Was this company really worth my dedication? I sat down in my cold chair and opened my laptop. On the screen was the draft of the contract, on which I had typed in red letters: “VOID.” The word burned my eyes. Tears, which I had held back for so long, finally began to fall, silent drops splashing onto my keyboard. I felt like I had been abandoned by the entire world. Despair, like a ferocious tide, completely swallowed me whole. 04 Mark’s fight with Miranda ended in a stalemate. A colleague who was there later told me Miranda’s defense was simple: “I followed company policy to the letter. My process is rigorous and flawless. If the sales deal fell through, it’s because of incompetence in the sales department. Don’t try to pin that on Finance!” She used company policy as an impenetrable shield, and Mark had no comeback. Ultimately, the issue escalated to senior management. The result? Mark was officially reprimanded for “ineffective management of subordinates, resulting in a significant loss for the company.” He emerged from the meeting looking defeated. And I, Linda Sterling, as the one directly responsible, became the epicenter of the storm. What made my heart sink even further was hearing that Miranda, at a subsequent internal meeting, had made a pointed remark about “certain employees who lack a sense of responsibility and professional competence, yet attempt to challenge the authority of company policy with petty tricks.” Everyone knew she was talking about me. From that day on, Miranda’s retaliation began. It wasn’t a sudden storm, but a slow, creeping death, like being a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water. Every single one of my expense reports was blocked. From a few dollars for printing costs to several hundred for a travel allowance, nothing was spared. The reasons were always varied and absurd: “improperly formatted receipt,” “purpose of expense not detailed enough,” or simply, “this month’s budget is tight, try again next month.” Any document I submitted that required her approval would be intentionally delayed. An urgent request could sit on her desk for a week. This caused serious delays for the smaller projects I was managing. The clients were demanding updates, my team was anxious, and I was caught in the middle, overwhelmed. Mark spoke to me a few times. His tone was much softer now, his eyes holding a hint of guilt, but his words still conveyed his anxiety about the project timelines. He was clearly feeling the heat as well. Gossip circulated through the office that I had “pissed off the money god and was getting what I deserved.” My colleagues began to distance themselves from me, subtly at first, then more obviously. No one wanted to be seen as too close to me, afraid that their own expense reports would get the same treatment. I was like a walking plague, shunned by everyone. I always ate lunch alone. When I walked into the breakroom, any lively chatter would immediately cease. I felt a profound sense of helplessness and rage, as if I were trapped in a transparent glass cage—observed, judged, and isolated by everyone, with no way out. I tried to fight back. I got a copy of the company policy manual and studied the reimbursement rules, word for word. And there, buried in the dense text, I found it: “The final determination of what constitutes a personal expense for entertainment purposes rests solely with the discretion of the Finance Department.” It was a massive loophole, giving her absolute power. In other words, if Miranda Vance said it was a personal expense, it was. There was no appeal. Those cold, clinical words were her fortress and her sharpest weapon. At a company-wide weekly project meeting, with all the department heads and senior executives present, it was my turn to report on my project’s progress. As I was speaking, Miranda slowly, deliberately, cut in. “Linda, since everyone is here, I have a question for you.”

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They crucified me on the Willow Creek community forum. I was the heartless landlady, the one with the outrageously overpriced apartments. What they failed to mention was that my building was all-inclusive. Utilities, gigabit internet, central air and heat—all of it. In the summer, you could run the AC at full blast 24/7. In the winter, it was warm enough to walk around in a t-shirt. The entire building’s group chat was buzzing about me. Even my cousin, Mark, who helps me manage the property, couldn’t take the heat. “Liv, maybe just drop the rent a little? It’d save us a lot of headaches.” I didn’t argue. I just opened the tenants’ group chat and posted a new announcement. [To address the recent concerns regarding rental prices, we will be implementing a rate adjustment.] [Effective next month, rent for all units will be reduced by $400 to align with the market rate. Concurrently, the all-inclusive utilities policy will be discontinued. Each unit will be responsible for its own utility bills.] The moment I hit send, the group chat exploded. 1 “Liv, what the hell did you just post?!” Mark’s frantic call came through immediately, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I told you to lower the rent, not cut off their life support! Do you have any idea the kind of hell they’re going to raise now?” I calmly scrolled through the 99+ notifications lighting up the tenants’ chat, a flood of jubilant messages. “Mark,” I said, my voice steady. “Just watch.” In the group chat, a user named Jenna was being hailed as a hero. She was the ringleader of this little rebellion. Jenna, a recent college grad, was the one who wrote the tear-jerking forum post painting me as a greedy monster. She was the one who started this “Tenant Justice League” group chat, strategizing daily on how to take down the “old-school landlady.” And now, she was savoring her victory. Jenna: [Sisters! Do you see this?! VICTORY! When we stand together, even the capitalists have to bow down!] A cascade of cheers followed. [Jenna, you’re a legend! Gen Z is shaking up the workplace, and you’re shaking up the landlords!] [LOL, an extra $400 a month! Think of all the new clothes I can buy!] [I knew it! She was just bluffing. We called her on it, and she folded!] [@Jenna We’re taking you out to dinner tonight! You’re our champion!] Jenna responded with a GIF of a queen waving, the digital embodiment of smugness. Jenna: [It was nothing! I just can’t stand to see people get taken advantage of. We have to fight for what’s rightfully ours!] A cold smile touched my lips as I read the messages. On the other end of the line, Mark was still panicking. “What are you thinking? You give in like this, and they’ll be walking all over you from now on!” “Mark,” I said again. “Just watch.” I hung up. Just then, my doorbell rang. I opened it to find Jenna flanked by two other girls, all of them beaming. She tilted her chin up at me. “Olivia, look, this wasn’t personal.” “We just wanted you to understand that times have changed. You have to be fair in business, listen to the people. See? If you’d just done this earlier, we could have avoided all this drama.” I leaned against the doorframe, my face a blank mask, and watched her performance. “So, you’re satisfied?” I asked. Jenna took my question as a sign of surrender, her smirk widening. “For now. I hope you’ll continue to be this… reasonable.” “Right.” I nodded, then signed my name on the addendum to the new lease agreement. The terms were simple: effective next month, the rent would be reduced by $400. “Here,” I said, handing her a thick stack of the documents. “One for everyone. I’ll need them back by tomorrow.” Jenna accepted the stack like a general receiving the enemy’s sword, then turned and strutted away, her victory complete. I watched her go, a small, knowing smile on my face, and closed the door. 2 The euphoria of their win spread through the building like a contagion. Tenants celebrated in the hallways, their faces glowing with the thrill of getting one over on me. They even threw a small victory party in the courtyard—beer, barbecue, the works. It was quite a scene. Jenna was at the center of it all, holding court like a queen. She raised her plastic cup of beer, her voice ringing out across the lawn. “This is just the first step! The fact that she lowered the rent proves she knew she was screwing us! Next, we make her replace all the crappy old appliances with brand-new ones!” The crowd roared with approval. Mike from 302, the same guy whose rent I’d waived for three months when he lost his job, was the loudest of all. He held up a kebab, shouting, “Jenna’s right! We can’t let that old hag get away with it!” I stood on my balcony, silently observing the absurd comedy unfolding below. The next day, everyone returned their signed addendums. Each of them wore a poorly concealed smirk, their eyes a mixture of pity and contempt. I collected the papers. “Since we’re all in agreement,” I said, “the new terms will take effect on the first of next month.” Jenna crossed her arms, her tone a challenge. “You’re not going to regret this, are you, Olivia?” “Don’t worry,” I said, my smile cryptic. “I never regret my decisions.” And they, in turn, wasted no time showing me the true meaning of the phrase, “give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile.” The trash in the hallways started piling up. Takeout containers and beer bottles were left by their doors, sometimes blocking the walkway entirely. The cleaning lady complained to me several times, saying they wouldn’t listen to a word she said. Late-night parties and gaming sessions became the norm. The bass thumped through the floors, rattling my walls and my sanity. A few times, I went down to ask them to keep it down. They’d offer a giggling, insincere apology, and the moment their door was closed, the music would get even louder, punctuated by mocking laughter. A couple of days later, it got worse. The private parking spots assigned to my building were suddenly filled with unfamiliar cars. Several were even blocking the fire lane. I called property management. They were just as frustrated. “Olivia, it’s your tenants. They’re selling access to their parking spots.” “They posted on the community forum that since their spots are often empty, they’re ‘sharing’ them with people who need them. For ten or twenty bucks a pop.” “We tried to talk to them, but they claim it’s their right. They even said you, the landlord, approved it.” I hung up, a laugh bubbling up that was pure rage. I own this building. The deed is in my name, which means the parking lot is mine. I provided the spots and the key cards for their convenience, free of charge. And now, they were subletting my property and pocketing the cash. I stormed downstairs just in time to see Mike waving a sedan into a spot, a crisp twenty-dollar bill in his hand. He saw me and didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. Instead, he puffed out his chest. “Hey, Olivia. These spots are just sitting here empty. I’m just helping you monetize your assets. A little management fee, you know? It’s a win-win.” “My parking spots,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “When did they become yours?” “Oh, come on, don’t be so stingy,” Jenna chimed in, strolling over. “You already gave in on the rent, don’t get hung up on a little perk like parking. We put in the work to get this community’s rules straightened out. We deserve a little something for our efforts, don’t you think? Call it a consulting fee.” They had completely reframed my retreat as their rightful conquest. I looked at their shameless, entitled faces and didn’t say another word. I just took out my phone and dialed the number for the local towing company. “Hello, I’m at the Willow Creek Residences, Building 3. There are over a dozen illegally parked vehicles here. I need them all towed immediately.” 3 The tow trucks were impressively efficient. Within thirty minutes, two massive flatbeds were maneuvering through the lot. Watching his customers—and his cash flow—being hauled away one by one, Mike flew into a rage and tried to block my path. “What are you doing?! You’re killing my business!” Jenna, followed by a small posse of tenants, surrounded me, their faces contorted with righteous indignation. “Olivia, you’ve gone too far! What, you lost on the rent so you’re taking it out on our parking? We were just fighting for what’s fair! This kind of petty revenge is just pathetic!” Their twisted logic was so astounding it was almost funny. “My parking spots, which you were using to make money, are now being cleared of unauthorized vehicles. And somehow, I’m the one in the wrong?” “What do you mean, your spots? We live here, so we have the right to use them!” “Yeah! If you’re going to take away our income, you have to compensate us somewhere else!” The commotion was drawing a crowd of neighbors, which only emboldened the tenants to shout louder. That afternoon, flush with their perceived power, they doubled down. Jenna and Mike, leading their little delegation, knocked on my door again. This time, they came bearing a printed list of demands. “Olivia,” Jenna said, arms crossed, chin held high. “We’ve decided to let the parking thing slide. But our quality of life needs to be addressed.” “We’ve all agreed that you need to replace every mattress in this building with memory foam, all the sofas with genuine leather, and all the TVs with 75-inch screens. Consider it compensation.” I stared at the absurd document. Before I could speak, Mike jumped in. “Look, Olivia, we know you’re a good person deep down, and it’s not like you’re hurting for money. Just think of it as a little bonus for us young people trying to make it in the world.” “You even waived my rent once,” he added, a smug look on his face. “Be good to us, and we’ll remember it.” He was using my past kindness as leverage, as a weapon to control me. The sight of his face then was more disgusting than any of the insults in the group chat. I looked at him, my expression unreadable. “So, this is what you’ve all decided?” “It’s the will of the people!” Jenna corrected. “It was a unanimous decision! And if you refuse, we have no problem letting the whole neighborhood weigh in on this!” Just then, my phone rang. It was the property manager. “Ms. Hayes, I have to inform you that we’ve received formal complaints from over ten other residents about the tenants in your building!” “The complaints include noise violations, improper trash disposal, obstruction of common areas, and blocking the fire lane! This is extremely serious! If you don’t rectify the situation immediately, we’ll be forced to report it to the city and issue you a substantial fine!” I took a deep breath. “I understand, Mr. Davis. I’ll handle it immediately.” I hung up, a white-hot rage surging through me. I took their list of demands and, right in front of their shocked faces, tore it into tiny pieces. “Get out.” “All of you, get out.” Mike’s face flushed a deep red. “You… What’s your attitude? You want to see what we can…?” “Do you want to see if I can have you evicted by sundown?” I cut him off, my voice dangerously low. “Don’t forget, I hold the leases. And I have the right to reclaim my property with proper notice.” My sudden shift in demeanor stunned them into silence. They exchanged uneasy glances, their blustering bravado gone. “Fine! You just wait!” Jenna spat, before turning and leading her defeated crew away. I shut the door, pulled out my phone, and began composing the email I’d already drafted in my head. It was to my lawyer. You want fairness? You want to shake things up? Fine. I’ll give you exactly what you asked for.

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Chapter 1 1 My mother was a high-class escort. She died giving birth to me, so I was raised by her “sisters-in-arms.” Growing up, I was a sponge, soaking up every trick they used to handle men. I mastered the art before I finished high school. My “moms” all said the same thing: with my face, my body, and my skills, no man alive could resist me. Too bad I had a congenital heart defect. The doctors said I wouldn’t live to see twenty. On my twentieth birthday, a woman jumped from a penthouse… and landed on me. She was an heiress, dying from a broken heart. As she lay there, she learned she’d also fatally injured me—a patient who was already struggling. She was consumed by guilt. She insisted her heart be donated to me as compensation. With her last breath, she grabbed my hand. “Please,” she begged, “take my heart… and keep loving him for me.” After I recovered, I found him. I did everything I could to seduce the man she loved. I became his golden canary. He doted on me. I had everything I wanted. Until she showed up. And suddenly, I didn’t feel like playing this part anymore. … I’d already had the housekeeper reheat dinner twice. Julian Thorne still wasn’t home. No answered calls. No replied-to texts. I knew I was just his kept woman, but this had never happened before. Just last night, he’d held me and promised he would clear his meetings to be home for my twenty-second birthday. I scrolled aimlessly through Instagram. A new post froze my thumb. Julian—a man who never posted anything—had just dropped a full photo carousel. The center image: two hands, locked together. The other eight photos were all of the same woman. Playful, cute, sultry, tender. Serena. The woman my heart’s donor had lost him to. Julian Thorne’s “white moonlight”—the one that got away. No wonder he’d ghosted me. I scoffed. Men. You really can’t count on them. But my chest started to ache. An unfamiliar, heavy sadness welled up inside me. It happened every time Julian and I were intimate—this heart, which wasn’t mine, would pound like it was trying to escape my ribs. Sigh. Stupid girl. You’re dead, and your heart is still beating for this cold, worthless man. I picked up my fork. I wasn’t waiting anymore. I was just a canary; I had no reason to be sad just because the boss’s true love was back. But the ache in my chest ruined my appetite. I picked at the food and gave up. I showered and went to bed early. Clearly, he wasn’t coming home. I was just drifting off when the mattress beside me dipped. A familiar, cold embrace. The scent of cedar and expensive gin. It was Julian. He’d actually come back. I jolted awake, spinning around, hooking my leg over his, and pressing my lips to his throat. “You missed my birthday,” I whispered. “Your punishment is seven rounds, and you’re not allowed to leave this bed until morning.” I went boneless, hanging on him like silk. His breathing instantly deepened. “Don’t move,” he growled, ripping at his tie. His voice was a low, magnetic rasp. I smiled, kissing him harder. “Where’s my present? Or… are you planning to offer yourself instead?” My warm lips moved to his ear, the words a sultry promise. I’d been asking for a specific pink diamond necklace, and he’d promised to get it for my birthday. “You little demon,” he muttered, his control snapping. “You’re going to be the death of me.” The next second, I was sinking into the soft mattress, a ship tossed on his waves. I had to admit, Julian looked like a cold, abstinent banker, but in bed, he was a different animal. This past year, he’d kept me well-fed in every sense of the word. In the height of it, he clutched me tight and gasped out one word: “Serena!” The wild rhythm in my chest stopped. The ache turned blunt and heavy. I shoved him off me, hard, and pulled the duvet over myself. He froze, realizing what he’d said. The air turned stiff and awkward. After a moment, he reached for his wallet and tossed his Amex Black Card onto the nightstand. “Sorry. I forgot your gift. Buy yourself whatever you want.” I didn’t hesitate. I reached out, my fingers tracing up his arm, until I could snatch the card. I was a canary. For me, money was always more reliable than a man. As for the feelings of the heart inside my chest… I had no control over that. Seeing that I’d taken the card, Julian relaxed, shifting back into the doting man I knew. He tapped my nose. “You little gold digger.” He leaned in again, his eyes dark. I knew that look. It was the look he got right before he pinned me to the bed again. “I love the way you look in that white dress,” he murmured. “Go put it on. Be good.” It was a dress he’d bought for me. He always made me wear it when he was in this kind of mood. But now, after seeing his Instagram post, I understood. The dress. It was Serena’s style. A chill ran down my spine. Chapter 2 Even a canary has some pride. “I’m tired,” I said, turning my back. His face darkened. He didn’t care. He moved over me, pinning me down. “Jade. Don’t piss me off tonight.” I struggled, and we twisted in the sheets. This was new. He was usually respectful in this one area. If I said no, he’d go take a cold shower. He never forced me. But tonight was different. “You remember what you are,” he hissed, his voice cold. “You’re for sale. When the client wants to play, you play.” The next morning, he realized he’d gone too far. He held me, kissing me, apologizing. “I’m sorry, baby. I was drunk, I lost control. It was my fault.” I gave him nothing. “Come on, be good,” he coaxed. “You told me you’ve never been to an amusement park, right? I’ll take the day off. We’ll go to Six Flags, just us. A makeup for your birthday.” He was patient, trying to charm me. I was still furious, but my brain reminded me of my role. He was right. I was for sale. A good canary knows when to take the win. I stretched, letting out a little moan. “You were so rough… you hurt me. I don’t care. You have to dress me.” He chuckled, pulling me onto his lap. “Fine, you little demon.” An hour later, we were finally ready to leave. And an uninvited guest ran through the front door. Serena. “Julian, help me!” she cried, her perfect face frantic. Julian was by her side in an instant. “What’s wrong?” “My cat, Mr. Bojangles! He’s gone! I’ve looked everywhere, and you weren’t answering your phone. I didn’t know who else to call!” She looked so fragile. Then she saw me. Her eyes narrowed, and she deliberately tilted her head, letting her hair fall back. A pink diamond necklace sparkled at her throat. My birthday present. He hadn’t forgotten to buy it. He’d just given it to someone else. All my interest in Six Flags vanished. I was about to tell Julian to just go, but he was already pulling her toward the door. “Let’s go. I’ll help you look.” He didn’t even look at me. He just left. Wow. He really does forget you exist the second he’s out of bed. My heart ached again. I kicked off the Manolos he’d just buckled onto my feet and slid into a pair of comfortable flats. I dialed Roxy, my favorite of my “moms.” Julian gave me a black card. It would be a sin to let it go to waste. Roxy had been seeing a powerful lawyer, and she’d pulled some strings to get me a scholarship to a design school in Italy. I needed cash. In a single afternoon, Roxy helped me liquidate $250,000 from Julian’s card into my own account. He must have been very busy looking for that cat. Not a single call. I took my moms out for a huge dinner. Roxy told me my flight was in a week. They were all so proud. As the party ended, Julian finally called. “Where are you? I’ll send the driver.” One more week. I could play the part for one more week. I gave him the address. The car was waiting, but it didn’t take me home. It took me to a high-end private club where he sometimes met his friends. The second I walked into the private room, I saw him. Julian, with Serena nestled in his lap, talking to his buddies. “So, I’d like to formally introduce Serena,” he was saying. “The most important woman in my life.” One of his friends, Ben, looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. He smirked. “She’s the most important, huh? Then what about your ‘little treasure’?” Chapter 3 My stupid heart tensed. I was actually waiting to hear his answer. “You mean Jade?” Julian’s voice was lazy, thoughtful. “She’s… effective. Always helps me sleep.” The room erupted in laughter. All eyes turned to me. Julian looked over, his gaze meeting mine. He looked a tiny bit uncomfortable, but he recovered and beckoned me over. Serena, in his lap, just smirked at me. That damn heart. It was twisting again. Whatever. It’s true. I was born from a line of women who got paid for this. I was with him to fulfill a dying wish and to make my exit fund. I never expected love. Thinking this, I plastered a dazzling, sultry smile on my face. I walked forward, deliberately bumped into Serena, and slid right into Julian’s lap, displacing her. “You bad boy,” I purred, “If I take such good care of you… don’t I deserve a little reward?” Serena was stunned by my nerve. She grabbed her arm, “Ow! You pushed me!” Julian, who had been smiling, turned cold. “Apologize, Jade.” I shrugged. “Sure. For fifty thousand.” Julian’s smile was gone. “Jade, you really are a greedy, shameless little tramp.” Serena jumped in. “If Miss Jade loves money so much, why don’t we play a game?” “I’m listening,” I said, lazily twirling my hair. Her eyes gleamed with malice. “How about a striptease? $10,000 an item. What do you say?” Julian was staring daggers at me. He was a prude; he hated it when I even wore a low-cut dress out of the house. He would never let this happen. I didn’t even look at him. I scanned the room. Nine men, plus Serena. All of them watching. “No problem,” I said. “Ten people. $10,000 per person. Per item.” The men looked at Julian. He didn’t move. They all cheered. “Deal! Take it off!” Serena’s face tightened—she hadn’t expected me to include her. “Fine! Let’s see how low you’ll go.” I unzipped my jacket and let it slide off my shoulders, revealing the tank top underneath. I pulled out my phone and opened my Zelle. “One hundred thousand, please. Then we start round two.” The little “ping” of the transfers hitting my account was the sweetest sound. Money is the source of all happiness. Serena, seeing I was only in a thin tank top, couldn’t wait. “Next! Hurry up!” I looked at all the hungry faces, then locked eyes with Julian. His face was black. I just smiled, grabbed the hem of my tank top, and started to lift it. Who cares? It’s just a bra. You see more on any beach in Miami. The fabric had just cleared my stomach when a heavy suit jacket was thrown over my head, smelling of cedar. “Have you no self-respect?” I peeked out. Julian was in his shirtsleeves, his face thunderous. He snatched my phone, opened his banking app, and sent me $200,000. “You want money? Fine! But stop embarrassing me. Put your clothes on and go home.” “Julian!” Serena whined. He just patted her hand, his eyes still on me. “Thanks, Daddy!” I cooed. I leaned up, gave him a loud, wet kiss on the cheek, grabbed my jacket, and walked out.

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It was a few days after I gave Chad Pei my first time. My brother, Joshua, suddenly called and asked me to dinner. My eyes stung as I looked at the man who, not long ago, had whispered in my ear that he would cherish me for a lifetime. Now, Chad was blushing as he carefully peeled a shrimp for another girl. My brother, oblivious, just grinned at me. “Jealous? Feeling like you want to start dating, too?” I fought back the tears and managed a smile. “Yeah, Joshua. Weren’t Mom and Dad saying they wanted to set me up with someone really great?” “I’m in.” The bowl in Chad’s hand suddenly slipped and crashed to the floor. 1 A waiter quickly came over to clean up the shattered porcelain. My brother shot Chad a confused look. “Dude, what’s wrong with you? Get a girlfriend and you can’t even hold a bowl steady?” The panic on Chad’s face vanished in an instant, so fast I thought I’d imagined it. He leaned back, cool and composed, a slight smirk on his lips. “You got it.” Chloe Fuchs gazed at him, her eyes shy and shimmering like a spring pond. “Oh, stop it.” Chad leaned back in his chair, draping an arm casually over the back of hers, effectively pulling her into his space. He looked down at her, his expression radiating pure adoration. “What, you don’t like hearing that? Hmm?” Chloe gave him a playful shove. My brother covered his face, groaning about their public display of affection. I just kept my head down and focused on my food, pretending not to notice the way Chad’s eyes kept darting in my direction. Joshua returned to our previous conversation. “Lils, were you serious just now? If you’re not joking, I’m totally going to call up Connor Kang and set something up.” My hand tightened around my spoon. I took a sip of soup before forcing another smile. “Of course, I’m serious. Seeing how in love Chad and Chloe are, it just makes me want to find someone, too.” I put extra emphasis on the words in love. Chad’s hand, midway to his mouth with a spoonful of soup, paused for a fraction of a second. Then he turned to Chloe, his voice soft. “Careful, it’s hot.” My brother laughed. “Alright, alright! It’s about time my little sister started dating. I’ll call Connor as soon as we get home.” Clang. The sound of a spoon hitting the table was jarringly loud. Chad’s voice was low. “Sorry. Slipped.” Chloe took his hand, her voice laced with concern. “Did you burn yourself?” Joshua groaned again about being the third wheel, complaining that he shouldn’t have invited me out last minute, forcing me to suffer through their lovey-dovey display with him. Chloe’s cheeks were flushed the color of a sunset. Toward the end of the meal, Chloe excused herself to go to the restroom. Just then, my brother got a call and had to go move his car. Suddenly, it was just Chad and me at the table. He idly flicked a lighter on the table, one eyebrow raised. “Well, look at you, Lily Shen. All grown up.” His tone was laced with sarcasm. “Learned how to play hard to get, have you?” Even a fool could feel the sharp edge in his words. The bitterness I’d been suppressing rose in my chest again, a giant hand squeezing my heart until it ached. I struggled to speak, to force a smile. “What? Is there a rule that says you’re allowed to start fires, but I can’t even light a candle?” Chad’s lips parted, as if to say more, but then Chloe reappeared. He tossed out a hurried sentence. “Don’t overthink it. I’ll explain when we get back.” Then he left me, rising to meet Chloe with a welcoming smile. She said her professor needed her for something, so she had to head back to campus. Chad nodded in understanding, wrapping an arm around her waist to walk her out. Chloe looked back at me apologetically. “We have to go, Lily. See you later.” I just shook my head, mumbling that it was fine. As they left, Chad kept glancing back, but I just stared down at my plate, refusing to meet his eyes. When Joshua returned to an empty table, he was bewildered. “Where’d Chad go? He was supposed to pay today. Did he seriously dine and dash?” I didn’t answer. My brother, still not sensing my distress, just grabbed his coat and went to settle the bill. 2 We were stopped at a red light when Joshua finally broke the silence. “Lils, what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet ever since we left the restaurant.” I forced a smile, trying to change the subject. “Joshua… I think I want to come home.” He slammed on the brakes, his face lighting up with pure joy. “You finally want to come home? Seriously? That’s fantastic! I’m telling Mom and Dad right now. I’ll have Maria redecorate your room, anything you want. Just tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll make it happen.” As he started driving again, he continued to ramble. “So, when do you want to move back? Today? Is that too soon? Would it be a hassle for everyone?” I looked at him, suddenly anxious. He reached over and affectionately ruffled my hair. “Silly girl, what are you talking about? It’s never a hassle when family comes home. Don’t you worry about a thing. Hey, should we let Chad know?” I shook my head softly. “No, let’s not. It’s a small thing, no need to bother him. I wouldn’t want Chloe to get the wrong idea.” Joshua nodded, then launched into a detailed plan for redecorating my room. I turned my head to the window, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. The trees outside blurred into a green streak. It was on a day just like this that I first went to live with the Peis. When I was three, an old beggar came to our door. After my mother gave him a meal, he looked at me with an unnervingly serious gaze and told her, “If you want this child to see her eighteenth birthday, she must be raised far away from you. Otherwise, she is fated to perish before she turns ten.” My parents dismissed it as nonsense at first. But after my third birthday, I started getting sick. Constantly. The worst time, the hospital issued a critical condition notice. In a moment of panic, my brother reminded my parents of the old man’s words. After much debate, they decided it was better to be safe than sorry. So, they sent me to live with close family friends in the next city over. The Pei family. Chad’s family. I had lived in their home for fifteen years. By the time the car pulled up to the Pei’s villa in the hills, the tear tracks on my face had dried, and my brother was none the wiser. I jumped out of the car, feigning cheerfulness. “Hey, Joshua, just give me a minute. I’ll grab my stuff. I’ll be quick.” The garden in front of the villa was in chaos. Workers were bustling about, digging and planting. Seeing me, the Pei’s housekeeper looked flustered. “…Miss Shen. Why are you back so early?” I was confused at first, until I saw it: all of my luggage, haphazardly piled outside the door to the storage room. The housekeeper rushed to explain. “Young Master Pei said to move you to the east wing room. It’s just… it hasn’t been prepared yet, so we had to put your things here for now. Please, have a seat. I’ll get the staff to speed things up.” A heart I thought couldn’t break any further was brutally gouged once more. I managed a bitter smile. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t their fault. I bent down and began picking up my things, carefully placing my important documents back into my suitcase. The noise from the garden was a constant hum. I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Why all the sudden landscaping?” The housekeeper answered respectfully. “The young master said there will be a happy occasion in the family soon. The future Mrs. Pei loves lilies of the valley. So we have to clear out the… unimportant plants to make room for them. He had them flown in from overseas yesterday. They’ll be here this afternoon. They’re very precious.” My mind went blank. I loved tulips. I’d mentioned it to Chad several times, how I dreamed of having a field of them in the garden. He’d either frown and say it was too much trouble, or just wave me off and tell me to ask the housekeeper. As a guest in their home, I never felt comfortable making such a frivolous request. But lilies of the valley… they were a hundred times more delicate and difficult to care for than tulips. So, it was never about it being too much trouble. It was about who he was willing to be troubled for. At the very bottom of the pile was a box of things related to Chad. The 9,999 paper cranes he’d folded for me. Our first photo together, both of us careful not to stand too close, terrified his parents might see something. A piece of coral he’d brought back from his first deep-sea dive when he was eighteen. He’d said he hoped we would share many firsts together, that he only wanted to experience the wonders of the world with me. Flashbacks from last night flooded my mind—his arms around me, his voice coaxing me into one more time. It was more nauseating than any soap opera. I had laid in his arms and asked when he would tell our parents about us. He’d said, “Soon.” And soon turned out to be today, a dinner with his girlfriend. Tears fell again. The housekeeper asked gently, “Miss Shen, are you alright? The room in the east wing has the same layout, it gets plenty of sun. It just hasn’t been used in a while, so it’s a bit dusty. If there’s anything you’re not happy with, please just say the word. Otherwise, the young master will be upset with us when he returns.” I shook my head. “There’s no need. I’m going to stay at my family’s home for a few days.” She breathed a visible sigh of relief. I picked up my suitcase and pointed to the box of memories. “Please, throw all of this away for me.” The housekeeper looked stunned, but she eventually just nodded. Fifteen years with the Peis. Today, it was finally over. My brother was slouched in the driver’s seat, playing on his phone. When he saw me emerge, he leaped out to help with my suitcase. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few more days?” he asked. I glanced back at the villa, just a few yards away, and gave a bitter laugh. “No. I’m done.” 3 On the highway home, Chad called. I ignored it, treating it like a spam call. My brother was focused on driving and didn’t notice. He brought up the dinner again. I finally broke, my voice hesitant. “Joshua… how do Chad and Chloe know each other?” My brother sighed, lost in thought. “Ah, Chloe. She’s Chad’s ‘one that got away.’ His dream girl. He’s been single all these years, just waiting for her to come back to him. In high school, he even got suspended for her. She was waitressing, and some customer was harassing her. Chad grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it over the guy’s head. He broke the guy’s ribs, got his own leg broken in the fight, and they both ended up at the police station. Since Chad was a minor, they settled it with money, but because he’d skipped school to be there, he still got suspended.” He shrugged. “That’s what I heard, anyway. I wasn’t at the same high school. You were away at that summer camp, so you probably never heard about it.” My heart, already at rock bottom, plunged into an abyss. So that’s what happened. That summer camp. We were camping at a national park. That night, a few workers from a nearby construction site snuck into our campground. I can still feel it—the calloused hand on my thigh, the sticky, nightmarish feeling that clung to me like a disease. There were screams. I wasn’t the only one. The other girls’ parents arrived one by one, demanding answers. My parents were overseas. My brother was at his dorm and couldn’t get there quickly. I didn’t want to bother Chad’s parents. The only person I could think of was Chad. When I called him, my hands shaking, I expected him to drop everything and come right away. But his voice on the phone was vague. “…I’ve got something going on over here. Can you just hang tight for a bit? Okay? I promise, you’ll see me first thing in the morning. I swear it.” Disappointed, I agreed. The camp put us up in a hotel. I couldn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could smell was the stale smoke on that stranger’s clothes. The next morning, an exhausted-looking Chad appeared at my hotel room door. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I threw myself into his arms and sobbed. He stumbled back, sighing with a mix of helplessness and affection. “Hey, hey, I’m here now, aren’t I? What’s with all the tears?” It was only after I’d cried my eyes out that I noticed he was on crutches. He told me he’d injured himself playing basketball. That he had to sneak past the nurses at the hospital to get here. I was flooded with guilt and sadness. I gently touched his injured leg. “Does it still hurt? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” He gave a wry smile. “It hurts,” he teased. “But if you kiss it better, it might stop.” He froze after he said it, as shocked as I was. Because I actually stood on my tiptoes and placed a soft, fleeting kiss on his jawline. I tried to pull away, mortified, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms. His breathing was heavy, his voice suddenly thick and raspy, as if he was fighting for control. He spoke through gritted teeth, each word deliberate. “Lily! Kissing… that’s the guy’s job.” I just mumbled, “Oh,” my mind a complete blank. “Why are you crying?” My brother’s worried voice pulled me from the memory. He was about to pull over, but I grabbed a handful of tissues and quickly wiped my face, inventing an excuse. “…I was just so moved by Chad and Chloe’s love story.” Joshua looked at me, half amused, half exasperated. “You girls are so sentimental. It’s that easy to make you cry?” He was about to say more when his phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Chad’s name. I turned to stare out the window, terrified my expression would give me away. Chad’s deep voice, laced with a strange anger, filled the car through the speakers. “Joshua, do you have any idea where your sister is?”

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