Category: English

Clint Grogan, the scion of one of the city’s most powerful families, was under the mistaken impression that I was in love with him. He arrogantly announced that he would accept my “pursuit.” And because I was a total doormat, I was forced into a relationship with him. This scion was ill-tempered, unreasonable, and constantly weaponized his handsome face to get his way. Three years into our relationship, I still couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with him. But, being the spineless coward I was, I didn’t dare break up with him. Just as I was agonizing over my predicament, I saw a message in his group chat: [I’ve never seen anyone with so little a personality. She keeps tabs on me if I’m even a little late coming home. It’s so annoying! Next time she does it, I’m just going to throw some money at her and be done with it.] I nearly jumped for joy. I could get paid and break up with him. My spineless self had finally hit the jackpot. 01 At six-thirty in the evening, Clint, who was usually home on the dot, was late. A thrill went through me. I expertly fished out my phone to probe his whereabouts. [Darling, I miss you so much! Are you on your way home?] After sending it, I closed my eyes, piously praying that Clint had a work dinner or a business trip. Anywhere but here would be fine. My luck was in. Clint replied a moment later. [Don’t be so clingy. I have a dinner thing tonight.] My eyes lit up, and I bounced on my feet with excitement. In a flash, I had arranged for a delivery of spicy crayfish, barbecue skewers, and beer. Clint despised such “garbage” food. Whenever he was home, I never got to eat it. I’d been craving it for over a month and had finally gotten my chance. I chewed. I chugged. Life couldn’t be more blissful. So blissful, in fact, that I completely forgot what time Clint was supposed to be home. By the time the doorman sent me a heads-up text, Clint was already at the door. I frantically called for the housekeeper to help me clear my beloved feast from the table. Then, I bolted for the bathroom. Clint had the nose of a bloodhound. The only way to hide the evidence was to take a shower. Warm water cascaded down, filling the room with steam. I stood under the showerhead, having just lathered up with fragrant body wash. Click. The bathroom door opened. Footsteps approached from behind, and a searing gaze locked onto my naked body. I cursed him as a “pervert” in my cowardly heart while hastily wrapping myself in a bathrobe, trying to tiptoe my way out of the bathroom. A little leftover soap was a small price to pay for my freedom. If I didn’t leave now, the beast of a man would surely pounce. I tried to slip past him with a strained smile and some small talk. “Honey, are you going to take a shower? Perfect, I just finished. You go right ahead…” Just as I was about to pass him, his hand shot out and clamped around my waist. With a tug, he pulled me into his arms. I gasped. His breathing grew heavy, and he lifted me with one arm, carrying me back into the shower stall. He turned the shower on full blast. The warm water soaked my bathrobe and his tailored suit. Clint loosened his tie, his eyes fixed on me. “You’re all wet. Help me wash up.” I shook my head frantically, but his quick hands had already untied my robe. A warm, calloused hand slipped inside, traveling upwards. Before I knew it, my protests had melted into soft moans as I went limp in his arms. I made one last, feeble attempt. “You must be so tired from your dinner… I feel for you. Maybe next time!” Clint’s hand, which had been deftly unbuttoning his shirt, paused. His eyes widened slightly. He cleared his throat and put on an air of great reluctance. “Fine. Then you can do all the work.” I was speechless. “!” Was that what I meant? My dumbfounded expression seemed to amuse him. He let out a low chuckle and captured my lips with his, his kiss trailing downwards. “Sophie, you didn’t rinse off all your body wash. It’s a little bitter…” I gasped, mustering a tiny spark of defiance. “Then don’t kiss it!” “Not an option.” … My cowardly resistance was no match for Clint’s beastly advances. In fact, it only seemed to egg him on. At one point, I was so exhausted I was about to drift off to sleep, only to open my eyes and find him still going. This went on until the middle of the night. When I woke up again, he was gone. I could hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. A dull ache spread through my entire body. I looked down and saw that my chest was a mess of love bites. That damn dog. I swear, one day I’ll break up with him. I cursed under my breath, punching his pillow to vent my frustration. My hand accidentally hit his phone. Just then, the screen lit up with a new notification. I picked it up. It was from his group chat. Someone had tagged him: [For real? Don’t tell me you’re just flexing on us again.] That narcissistic bastard, flexing? About what? I listened for the sounds from the bathroom; the shower was still running. Curiosity piqued, I opened the group chat. [@ClintGrogan, haven’t heard you complain about Sophie being clingy lately. Getting used to it?] [No. I’ve never seen anyone with so little a personality. She keeps tabs on me if I’m even a little late coming home. It’s so annoying! Next time she does it, I’m just going to throw some money at her and be done with it.] He had even attached a screenshot of our chat, of me asking when he’d be home. There was a deal this good? I nearly jumped for joy. I could get paid and break up with him. My spineless self had finally hit the jackpot. 02 The only reason I was dating Clint Grogan was because I was a total doormat. It was my junior year of college. I was in line for food in the cafeteria. Clint and his “white moonlight”—Seraphina Thorne—were there too, arguing about something near the serving counter. I didn’t care about them. My eyes were glued to the last three glazed pork knuckles in the serving tray. I watched them like a hawk, terrified they’d disappear. Just as my turn was approaching, Clint and Seraphina’s argument escalated. They moved back and forth, completely blocking my view of the pork knuckles. I’m not kidding, I was dying of anxiety. I leaned left. I twisted right. All I wanted was to see if someone had taken my precious pork knuckles. I was so focused that I didn’t realize I’d become the target of their argument. Seraphina pointed at me, my body still swaying as I stared at the food, and sneered, “Have you ever not had a girl fawning over you? Following you to lectures is one thing, but now they’re even stalking you in the cafeteria. And she’s not the only one! So you’re allowed to have simps, but I’m not?” Her voice was loud and filled with resentment. Instantly, every eye in the cafeteria turned to me. And me? I was still craning my neck left and right, my gaze locked on my beloved pork knuckles. It wasn’t until Clint walked over to me, his tall, broad-shouldered frame completely eclipsing my view, that I snapped out of it. He looked down at me, his expression complex. “You like it that much?” My mind still on the food, I looked up, confused. “Huh?” I glanced from Clint to a hostile-looking Seraphina and assumed they were mocking my love for pork knuckles. Slightly indignant, I muttered in my usual spineless fashion, “Can’t I like them? If I can’t, then I won’t…” Before I could finish my sentence, a collective “Ooooh” rippled through the crowd. Someone shouted, “You can, you can! He’s single!” Ah, in the blink of an eye, there’s only one pork knuckle left! Will I even get it? Before I could mourn my loss, someone shoved me. I managed to stabilize myself with a split. Close call. Seraphina retracted her hand and glared at me. “Have you no shame?” Then she burst into tears and ran out of the cafeteria. Naturally, Clint chased after her, leaving behind a cafeteria full of gossiping students and me, utterly bewildered and still in a split. Even then, I hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation. I happily ate my hard-won pork knuckle. But as soon as I got back to my dorm, my roommate pounced. “Sophie! When did you start crushing on Clint? You kept it hidden so well!” I was completely lost. “What are you talking about? That’s not true!” It was only then, scrolling through the campus gossip forum, that I learned all about my “secret crush” on Clint Grogan. No wonder the atmosphere in the cafeteria was so strange. What a ridiculous misunderstanding. I scrolled for a bit and saw that Clint and Seraphina had taken their argument to the campus lake. I rushed over, determined to clear my name. But when I got there, I walked right into a scene. Seraphina was locked in a passionate kiss with some other handsome guy, while Clint stood nearby, his face dark. My intended explanation, “I don’t have a crush on him,” died on my lips. Clint grabbed my hand and started walking away. Before we left, he shot a threat at Seraphina. “From now on, you go your way, and I’ll go mine. Our arrangement is over.” Then, he turned to me and declared, “Sophie, I accept your pursuit.” Wait, what? No! I hadn’t agreed to anything! I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip was like iron. I could only shake my head vigorously. “No, no, no…” Clint stopped and turned to me, a flicker of confusion in his arrogant eyes. “Didn’t you just say you liked me in the cafeteria? You don’t like me anymore?” “I don’t li—” His face instantly darkened. He took a menacing step forward, his tall frame completely engulfing my small, pathetic form. “Are you playing me?” he gritted out. I’ll admit, I was more than a little spineless. I caved. I rephrased, my voice small and resentful. “I like you.” And just like that, I was inexplicably in a relationship with Clint Grogan. I told myself he’d regret it soon enough. I could just break up with him then. But it had been three years, and we were still together. In those three years, Clint was ill-tempered, unreasonable, and constantly weaponized his looks against me. For example, he clearly didn’t love me, but he’d pull me into bed whenever he had a spare moment. Afterwards, he’d have the audacity to call me clingy, holding me tight and muttering to himself that only he could satisfy me. I mean, who says things like that? His insatiable appetite alone was enough to convince me I couldn’t spend my life with him. But I was too much of a coward to break up with him. At first, I was afraid of his temper. Now, I was afraid he’d literally screw me to death. God, my life was so hard. 03 Thankfully, it seemed Clint had finally grown tired of me. Thinking about his plan to pay me off, I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. He hated me being clingy. He hated me checking up on him. Hehe, well, I would just have to lean into that. As I was chuckling to myself, Clint emerged from the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “What are you laughing about? You seem happy.” “Getting paid to break up, how could I not be happy?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Oh, crap. I looked up, and sure enough, Clint’s face was a thundercloud. He narrowed his eyes, his voice dangerously low. “Sophie, what did you just say?” “I-I was just reading a novel. The side character in it is so lucky. The male lead gave her five million dollars as a breakup fee.” At that, Clint’s expression softened. He pulled me into his arms and scoffed. “Only five million? What’s so lucky about that? You have no ambition.” My eyes instantly lit up. So my breakup fee would be more than five million? I’ll take it! I’ll take it! 04 To make Clint despise me faster, I went into full-on drama queen mode. When he was at work, I spammed him with texts. When he was in a meeting, I blew up his phone with calls. When he was on a business trip, I’d ask him every ten minutes when he was coming back. Although Clint responded to every single message and call, after a while, I noticed the way he looked at me started to change. I was thrilled, convinced he was finally sick of me, and doubled down on my efforts. That evening, when he came home from work, I mustered all my courage, wrapped myself around him, and cooed, “Darling, I wonder if I might have the honor of tasting a home-cooked meal made with your love?” Coming home after a long day at work only to be met with a partner’s passive-aggressive demand to cook—I figured no one could tolerate that. Sure enough, Clint frowned and stared at me for several long seconds. Just as I was bracing for an outburst, he took off his suit jacket and walked into the kitchen. He put on the housekeeper’s pink apron and turned, gesturing for me, still frozen in place, to tie the strings for him. After I fumbled through it, he looked at me, his voice cold and threatening. “This is my first time cooking. If you dare say it’s not good, there won’t be a next time.” Wait, you’re planning on a next time? I complained silently but met his dark, intense gaze. My cowardice flared up again. My act fizzled out, and I just nodded and promised I wouldn’t. Hearing my promise, Clint suddenly clicked his tongue, his expression even darker than before. I was so scared I scurried out of the kitchen and spent the next hour giving myself a pep talk in the living room. Finally, Clint emerged with a single plate. On it was a piece of meat that had been almost completely carbonized. Using all my powers of imagination, I could just barely identify it as a pan-seared steak. As a foodie, I’ll usually try at least a bite of anything put in front of me. But this time, I was genuinely afraid of being poisoned. I couldn’t bring myself to taste it. I took a deep breath and resumed my act. “Did you take so long because you wanted me to starve?” “Take it away. I’m not eating it.” I kept my head down the entire time, afraid that one look at his cold face would make my voice tremble and ruin my performance. After my dramatic declaration, I scurried back to my room like a timid quail. Surely, this would make him break up with me, right? 05 Lost in thought, I accidentally fell asleep on the bed. I woke up to a gnawing hunger. “So hungry!” “Want some steak?” “Yes, yes!” I cheered before I realized it was Clint’s voice. I looked up. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, still in the shirt he’d worn home from work. He tilted his head back, looking down his nose at me as he condescendingly said, “If you want to eat, get up. I’ll go make it for you.” Making him wait on me was another way to be difficult, so I obediently nodded. Clint’s expression relaxed slightly. After a cold huff, he leaned down and put my slippers on for me. I followed him to the kitchen. This time, I watched him cook. Thawing, mincing garlic, heating the pan, adding oil… he moved with a fluid grace that betrayed no hint of a kitchen novice. The tantalizing aroma of searing steak soon filled the air. My stomach growling, I eagerly reached for the plate, but Clint blocked me. Is he teasing me? Refusing to let me eat? I looked longingly at the steak and backed away with a pout. Clint picked up the plate and walked to the dining table. Thinking his back was turned, I pulled a face at him. But he suddenly spun around. A glint of amusement flashed in his eyes, but his tone was gruff. “What’s with the face? Aren’t you hungry? Come and eat.” “Oh!” My eyes sparkling, I hurried to the table. As I passed the trash can, I glanced inside and saw several charred pieces of meat. I sat down and tried to make small talk. “Is Mrs. Gable not good at making steak? I saw a bunch of burnt pieces in the trash.” “No, her steak is great,” Clint replied nonchalantly, propping his chin on his hand. “Oh, then what about the ones in the—” Clint’s body went rigid. He shot up from his chair with a screech of wood against the floor. I looked up, confused. His ears were bright red. He crossed his arms, his face a mask of indifference. “What trash can? I didn’t make those. Don’t slander me. Searing a steak is so simple, anyone can learn it. I would never waste so many steaks just to make one for you.”

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Chapter 1 On my fourth birthday, my dad established the “Problem Penalty System.” One wrong word? That’s 30 extra math problems. Wake up one second late? 40 problems. Not loud enough during morning reading? 50 problems. “You have to study hard, Lucas. You have to do these problems. You need to be better than her child. You need to make the Vance family proud!” My dad raised me alone. It was hard on him. So I had to be good. I had to listen. Even if my hand cramped so bad I couldn’t hold a pencil. It went on until my first school field trip. While the other kids were trading snacks and playing Pokémon cards, I was kneeling on the ground, knees bleeding, frantically solving math problems. “Mrs. Miller,” my dad had said to my teacher that morning, “I assigned Lucas 200 problems today. Please take a picture and send it to me so I know this brat isn’t slacking off.” The other kids laughed and threw pebbles at me. “No wonder he doesn’t have a mom! Who wants a kid who only knows how to do math problems?” I buried my head low, thinking a secret, forbidden thought: If I were that woman’s child, would I still have to do math problems? … “Lucas, did you finish the 200 problems I assigned today?” Dad’s voice was low and heavy. To my small ears, it sounded like a monster grinding its teeth behind a door. “Dad, t-today… the bus ride on the field trip made me dizzy. I only finished…” My voice got smaller and smaller. Sweat slicked my palms as I gripped my pants. “Excuses! All excuses!” Dad’s eyes suddenly bulged, staring at me viciously. He snatched my backpack. “You got three wrong! Three! How can you get such simple problems wrong? How are you ever going to beat her kid like this?” “Twenty extra problems for every mistake. Plus another 60 before dinner. Or you don’t eat!” I grabbed the workbook back, my chest tight with a damp, suffocating feeling. Before the field trip, I thought everyone’s parents were like this. I thought every kid had to do hundreds of math problems a day. Dad glanced at me, seeing right through me. “What? You see them playing while you’re working, and you feel it’s unfair?” “Ha! Let me tell you, they are all losers! If they don’t study now, when will they? Every problem you solve makes you better than them!” I wanted to tell him my classmates weren’t losers. Sometimes when I got stuck on a hard problem, I’d secretly ask my desk mate, Chloe. She’d look at it once, know the answer, and whisper how to solve it. But Dad never believed me. He always said they were no good. Another thick stack of worksheets landed in front of me. The remaining 50 problems, plus the new 60. That’s 110 problems total. Dad said if I didn’t finish, I couldn’t eat. I scrunched up my face and rubbed my flat stomach. I hadn’t eaten lunch because I was afraid I wouldn’t finish the problems. Now it looked like I wouldn’t get dinner either. It was okay. I was used to it. Tears dripped onto the paper, blurring the ink. Plip, plop. I didn’t want to do math anymore. In a dark corner of Dad’s room, there was a hidden photo of two people. Dad was smiling a big, goofy smile. But the woman next to him had a giant ‘X’ scratched over her face. I found a slip of paper tucked behind the photo. It had a phone number on it. I knew she was the “bad woman” Dad talked about. The one who abandoned her husband and son. I used to hate her. I hated her for making Dad sad. I never thought about finding her. But now… I pulled an old, secondhand phone from under my bed. I pressed the screen, lighting it up, and dialed the number. “Hello? Who is this?” “Mom… I don’t want to do math problems anymore.” The voice on the other end paused. My heart jumped into my throat. “Little boy, what is your father’s name?” “Frank Vance.” Silence. “Where do you live?” Chapter 2 “Lucas! How many problems have you done?” My heart stopped. I hung up the phone in a panic. I was stupid. How could I hope the mom who threw me away would want me back? Lucas Vance, you’ve done so many math problems, why are you still so dumb? By the time I finished, my stomach was cramping so hard it felt like it was twisting into knots. Dad checked my work with a red pen, problem by problem. Every time he did this, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I was drowning. Suddenly, Dad smiled. A big, bright smile. “Good boy! You got them all right! That’s my Lucas. Dad knew you were the smart one.” Dad smiled, so I smiled too. These were the rare happy moments. “Lucas, tomorrow is your sixth birthday. How about Dad takes you to a fancy restaurant for a big meal?” “Okay!” My eyes lit up. Happiness bubbled inside me. Kids at school always bragged about their birthday cakes. I’d never had one. I was already drooling thinking about it. That night, even though Dad assigned me another 100 problems as punishment for something small, and even though I was starving and my throat burned, I fell asleep smiling. The next day, watching Dad stick six candles into a big cake, it finally felt real. “Lucas, close your eyes and make a wish.” I gazed at him. If only Dad could be this gentle all the time. I closed my eyes and made my wishes silently. [First wish: I hope Dad is healthy and happy every day.] [Second wish: I hope Dad stops making me do math problems.] When I opened my eyes, Dad’s face had turned cold. “Lucas, what did you wish for? Tell Dad.” My heart trembled. I whispered, scared, “Dad, the books say if you say it out loud, it won’t come true…” “You dare talk back? Getting brave, huh? Add 100 problems! Do them now! While you eat!” Whispers erupted from the tables around us. My face burned with shame. But I didn’t dare disobey Dad. I whispered, “I wished for Dad to be healthy and happy.” Dad froze for a second, his voice softening again. “Blow out the candles.” I took a deep breath, trying to gather enough air to blow them all out at once. But I hadn’t eaten properly in a day and a half. I was weak. I couldn’t even get a full breath out. Only three candles flickered and died. “Why are you always like this?!” Dad’s roar seemed to shake the roof. His eyes were filled with rage and madness. He flipped the cake over, smashing it onto the table. “You can’t even blow out candles like a man! You’re acting like a little girl! How are you going to accomplish anything when you grow up?” “Add 500 problems! Start writing now! You don’t leave until you finish!” I couldn’t hold back the tears. Looking at Dad, I hated myself. I knew Dad was sick in his heart. I had to do better. I shouldn’t worry him. But I was useless. Why couldn’t I do even the smallest thing right? If I was gone, Dad would be happy, wouldn’t he? I pulled out the workbook Dad made me carry everywhere. People started gathering around, whispering. A kind-looking grandma stepped forward. “Sir, it’s the child’s birthday. Is this really necessary? 500 math problems? When will he finish?” “Yeah,” someone else added. “Kids have it hard enough. Look at him shaking from hunger. Let him eat something!” Dad exploded. He screamed hysterically at them. “This is my son! How I teach him is none of your business!” “What’s 500 problems? If he can’t handle a little hardship, he’ll never amount to anything!” “If you want your kids to be losers, go home and raise losers! Don’t tell me how to raise my son! He’s going to bring glory to our ancestors!” “You! You’re hopeless!” Dad scared them all away. He looked at me coldly. “Cry, cry, all you know is crying. Just like a little girl. Add another 100 problems. Finish them or you don’t leave!” Dad went to the bathroom. I knew he went to smoke after yelling at me. He was probably frustrated that I was such a disappointment. The area around me cleared out. “Is this guy trying to dine and dash?” “Haha, probably putting on a show so he can steal the AC.” I wanted to defend Dad, but a man in a black suit walked up to me. “Master Lucas, please allow me to take a strand of your hair.” Chapter 3 Before I could react, I felt a sharp pinch on my scalp. The man carefully put my hair into a small plastic bag, took a photo of me, and vanished. I was too dumb to figure out what the weird man wanted. Was he a bad guy? I didn’t know. That day, I wrote for a long, long time. The numbers and symbols twisted together, blurring before my eyes. My stomach was empty and dizzy. While Dad wasn’t looking, I crawled under the table and picked up crumbs of cake from the floor, stuffing them into my mouth. They were dusty, but to me, starving for two days, they tasted like heaven. The restaurant was closing, but I still had 100 problems left. Dad dragged me outside by my arm. “Get on the ground and write. You don’t come home until you’re done.” People walked by on the street, glancing at me. Their eyes felt like needles. My knees were bleeding, sticking to my pants with a sharp, stinging pain. I didn’t dare cry. I just gripped my pen and wrote for my life. My sixth birthday ended like that, in a sea of math problems. Even in my dreams, all I saw were formulas and equations. As for the phone call and the weird man, I completely forgot about them. … “Happy Birthday, Ryan!” I sat in the corner, watching enviously as classmates surrounded Ryan. He looked like a little prince. I wanted friends too. But I had to bring my workbook even to the bathroom during recess. Otherwise, I couldn’t finish Dad’s penalty problems. “Lucas, yesterday was your birthday, right? Happy Birthday!” Chloe poked me, startling me. “Thank you!” She helped me with math problems and gave me a birthday present. I wanted to ask if we were friends. But I was afraid I was dreaming, afraid I’d just be a joke. Inside the blue gift bag was just a card and some candy, but I was thrilled. But the next second, Dad stormed into the classroom like a madman. He pointed at me and screamed. “Lucas Vance! What are you doing?! Instead of doing problems, you’re flirting with girls!” “I came to ask your teacher something and check on you, and look at you! Disappointing!” The whole class stared. Chloe turned pale with fright. She stumbled back three steps, staying far away from me, like I was something dirty. My blood turned to ice. I sat frozen in my chair. “Forget school. Come home and do problems.” “I walk in and see you flirting. Who knows what other shameless things you do behind my back!” He wasn’t done. He scanned the class with contempt. “I’m warning you all. My son is going to be a great scientist. You losers better not try to seduce him and drag him down!” On the way home, Dad tore the gift bag to shreds. The card became confetti. The candy was crushed into powder. “1,000 problems! Kneel on the balcony and write! Don’t get up until you’re done!” I wrote in a daze until my legs went numb, until I passed out on the balcony floor. After that day, the other parents petitioned to have me moved to the worst class in the grade. My classmates avoided me like the plague. Dad didn’t care. “Hmph. Geniuses are forged in hardship. So what if the environment is bad?” “Teacher, don’t let him sit with anyone. Let him sit by the trash can. It won’t affect his studies!” I huddled in the dark corner, smelling like garbage. Classmates threw trash at me. They called me “Trash Boy.” I did math problems desperately, but my hands shook more and more. I made more mistakes, and the penalty problems piled higher and higher. My fingers were deformed from pressing on the pen. Old blisters broke, new ones formed. I could never finish. I was always hungry, always dizzy. Until one day in P.E., everything went black, and I collapsed.

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The intern threw a massive dinner party for the whole company to celebrate landing a full-time position. After everyone was good and drunk, she secretly stuck me with the bill. I only found out about the dine-and-dash when the restaurant owner showed up at my door, demanding payment for the $20,000 feast. When I couldn’t pay, he put my name and face all over the internet. Angry netizens doxed me. They cut my power, dismantled my e-bike, and even beat my watchdog to death in my own yard. Desperate, I went to the intern, Poppy, begging her to explain everything and pay the owner back. Instead, she went online and started trashing the restaurant. “We’re basically public officials,” she wrote. “People beg for us to eat at their establishments. We graced your restaurant with our presence, and you should be grateful!” “And now you have the audacity to ask for money? You’re insane! If you don’t take that post down, I’ll have my uncle shut your place down for good.” Cornered and desperate, the restaurant owner hunted me down and hacked me to death with a kitchen knife. When I open my eyes again, I’m back on the day of the dinner. 1 “Tara, honey, I’m still a little shaky on these project accounts. Would you mind just… taking care of it for me?” The syrupy-sweet voice of our intern, Poppy, buzzed in my ear. A violent shudder went through my heart. It worked. I was reborn. Today was the day she was officially hired. It was also the day I had died. The celebratory dinner was in one hour. The office was already buzzing with anticipation, my colleagues having given up on work to sneak glances in their compact mirrors, touching up their lipstick and powder. Seeing me frozen at my desk, Poppy looped her arm through mine. “You’ve worked so hard, Tara. Don’t worry, I’m treating you to a huge dinner tonight to thank you!” The phantom terror of the blade, the cold seeping into my skin, still clung to me like a shroud. Instinctively, I shoved her arm away. “Do your own work.” Poppy’s lower lip trembled, her face a perfect mask of wounded innocence. “It’s not that I don’t want to! I just… I really don’t get this part. Or, Tara, maybe you could just take a little time to teach me? Please?” She delivered the lines perfectly. To anyone listening, it sounded like a senior employee on a power trip, refusing to help the new girl. In reality, I had explained the same process to her more than ten times. But Poppy loved playing the helpless newcomer, dumping all her responsibilities onto my desk. Just then, Director Yang, our boss, strode over, his brow furrowed as he fixed me with a cold stare. “Tara Vance. I know you’re busy, but you need to make time for the new hires. We were all new once. Have some empathy.” He wasn’t finished. “Besides, the project accounts are critical. I’d feel much better knowing you handled them personally.” “And today is a happy occasion,” he added, his voice softening as he glanced at Poppy. “It’s Poppy’s big day, and she’s thoughtful enough to treat us all to dinner. You don’t find grateful interns like her very often.” That was the cue for the rest of the hyenas to chime in. “Poppy’s been running around all day booking the restaurant and buying everyone fruit. The least you could do is help her out instead of dumping your own work on her.” “That’s what happens when you get a promotion. Suddenly you’re too good to do anything but boss people around.” “Careful what you say! She might get another promotion tomorrow and make you the first one she fires.” The project accounts were literally the intern’s job. Every other intern in every other department did them. But no one was going to stand up for me. They were all eager to get on Poppy’s good side, because Poppy was Director Yang’s precious niece. The office had devolved into a cacophony of accusations. Poppy, of course, stepped in to play the peacemaker. “Thank you all for sticking up for me, but it really is my job. I’m just slow, and I’m holding Tara up. I’ll get the reports done.” She sighed dramatically. “You’ll all just have to wait a couple of hours for me after work. I need time to figure it all out.” I just nodded. Fine. Let her do it. But Director Yang exploded. “Tara! Are you going to bully a new employee right in front of me?” he boomed. “I don’t care if you’re this company’s top performer. With an attitude like that, I have every right to fire you.” Poppy wrung her hands, the picture of distress. “Please, don’t yell at Tara anymore! It’s my fault, I’m too stupid to handle simple tasks. I’m sure it’s a pain for her to have to teach me when she’s so busy.” She turned to me, her eyes glistening. “Tara, don’t worry about the work. You take everyone to the restaurant. You can all start eating without me!” With Poppy’s performance, Director Yang backed off, slamming his office door behind him. But her words sent a chill down my spine, and the fine hairs on my arms stood on end. In my past life, the whole nightmare started because Poppy used my name and ID to run up that tab. I hadn’t stopped her from setting the trap, but I wasn’t about to walk into it again. The only reason the restaurant owner had agreed to let her run a tab on my name was my position—a manager at a prestigious city agency. But what if I wasn’t a manager anymore? What if I didn’t even work here? I typed up my resignation letter and emailed it directly to the head of corporate HR, bypassing Director Yang entirely. My colleagues were already packed up and ready to go. Seeing me still at my desk, one of them snapped impatiently. “What are you waiting for? We can’t go without you leading the way. Is it fair to make everyone wait for you?” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t you use Google Maps to find the restaurant? What are you, three-year-olds? Need mommy to hold your hand to cross the street?” Someone tried to smooth things over. “Come on, Tara. We’re all colleagues. We should go to a team dinner together. We wouldn’t leave you behind.” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Let’s be honest. You’re just afraid that if I’m not there, the restaurant will make you pay.” “Don’t worry,” I continued, enjoying the way their faces fell. “Your precious Poppy has already picked the place and paid the deposit. You can all go stuff your faces.” I had ripped away their polite masks, and they were furious. “She’s just a hick from the countryside. You can give her a fancy title, but you can’t get rid of that trashy attitude.” “And this is just what we see. Imagine how she must bully Poppy behind our backs.” “Only someone as sweet as Poppy would even think of inviting her. If it were me, I’d rather feed the scraps to a dog.” I knew my colleagues disliked me, but they’d always maintained a veneer of professionalism. Now, they were openly cursing my name. My work ethic had always been rigorous and no-nonsense, which they’d grudgingly respected. But ever since Poppy arrived, their dislike had curdled into personal attacks. Living through this a second time, I finally understood it was all Poppy’s doing. From her first day, she’d worked to win everyone over with a constant stream of coffees and pastries, making them all feel special. Building office relationships is one thing, and I respected her hustle. Then I discovered she was funding her generosity with our project’s expense account. I had naively thought that since she was Director Yang’s niece, stealing from the company would be an embarrassment to him. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Poppy had no shame. Payday was approaching, and I repeatedly urged her to replace the money. She always had an excuse. Finally, with no other choice, I used my own salary to cover the shortfall. As her direct supervisor, I was also responsible. The very next day, when the free coffee didn’t appear, my colleagues blamed me. They said I was a petty tyrant, using my new power to clamp down on Poppy. I couldn’t explain the truth, so I just focused on training her, hoping she’d become competent and I could be rid of her. But it only got worse. Whenever a task involved conflict or telling a client no, she’d find a way to push it onto my plate. Then, she’d swoop in afterward, playing the peacemaker, smoothing things over with more gifts and sweet talk. In the end, the difficult work got done, and everyone praised Poppy for her skill and diplomacy. In less than three months, my reputation was in the gutter while she was the office darling. Even so, after I first discovered the embezzlement, I didn’t think she was evil. When the restaurant owner came for me in my past life, I didn’t blame her, I just asked her to clear things up. I thought she was just a recent graduate who’d made a stupid, impulsive mistake. I never expected her vicious response. “So what if I used your name?” she had sneered. “You love playing the hero, don’t you? Why don’t you just cover this hole, too?” “I never said I wouldn’t pay back the expense money,” she’d continued, her voice rising. “You’re the one who had to make a big deal out of it and tell the whole company. This is your fault! If you had just let me handle the expense reports myself, I wouldn’t have needed to use your name in the first place!” Hearing those words again in my memory made my whole body tremble with rage. As they said, I was from the countryside. Every dollar I earned was earmarked for something critical: my sister’s tuition, my dad’s mounting medical bills. I didn’t have a cent to spare. But my position came with responsibilities, and I had covered for her. To fill that hole in the expense account, I’d had to beg my sister’s principal for an extension on her tuition payment. By the time the restaurant owner came at me with that knife, I was already at rock bottom. I had tried to hide in the office bathroom, but my colleagues had calmly pointed him in my direction. When the police arrived, I was already dead, bleeding out on the cold tile floor. A chill ran down my spine, but I forced myself back to the present. After my colleagues left, I took a shortcut to the restaurant. This time, the one who runs up the bill pays the bill. I used to think Poppy was some rich heiress who could easily afford a $20,000 dinner. It wasn’t until she refused to pay back the expense funds that I learned the truth: her entire family was blacklisted by creditors. Every cent that went into their bank accounts was instantly seized. The only reason she got this job was because of her dear old uncle, Director Yang. This time, I was going to enjoy watching Poppy fall into the very pit she had dug for me. The restaurant’s main dining hall was packed with my colleagues. Lavish dishes began to arrive—foie gras, wild truffle risotto, towers of seafood. Poppy raised her glass, playing the gracious host. “To all of my wonderful new brothers and sisters here! Thank you so much for taking care of me these past few months. Please, eat and drink as much as you like!” The room erupted in cheers. “Poppy, you’re amazing! I’ve never even heard of some of these dishes, let alone seen them. This is a real eye-opener!” “You’re so generous, Poppy! Thanks to you, we get to experience true fine dining.” “Seriously! What did our company do to deserve an angel like you?” My phone buzzed with notifications. Their social media feeds were flooded with pictures of the food, selfies, and gushing posts about their deep love and appreciation for Poppy. Right. Ten-tenths of that appreciation was probably for the wild truffles. Someone even tagged me in a comment. @TaraVance, you’re seriously missing out! Another one followed. You country folk have probably never seen food this good. What a shame! A slow smile spread across my face. Watching them devour every last bite, a profound sense of satisfaction washed over me. In my last life, the owner had cornered me outside the office, his grip like iron on my arm as he screamed about the bill. All those expensive dishes and fine wines added up to a staggering $20,000. Every penny I made went to my father’s medical care; I barely had enough cash on me for bus fare. He gave me three days to come up with the money. When Poppy refused to pay, I begged my colleagues to just split the bill. They turned on me in an instant. “Poppy was the one who invited us. Why should we have to pay?” “She used your name, not ours. This is between you two. Don’t drag us into it.” Some avoided my calls. Others literally turned and walked the other way when they saw me coming. I maxed out my credit cards, but it wasn’t even enough to cover a fraction of the debt. The owner, furious, slapped me hard across the face. “You people who work for the city, you think you can just bully us regular folks?” he had roared. “I’m telling you, if you don’t give me the money today, I’m not leaving!” My colleagues watched, their faces cold and indifferent. “How did our agency hire someone like this? She’s a disgrace.” “I say we just call the police. People like her are a menace.” They all knew Poppy had set me up, but not a single one spoke a word in my defense. Of course not. They’d gotten a free meal out of it. They were the ones who had benefited. The betrayal still felt like a shard of ice in my heart. When our department first started, nobody knew what they were doing. They constantly messed up projects, and when deadlines loomed, they would come to me, sometimes in tears, begging for help. In this economy, no one could afford to lose their job. So I would stay late, night after night, painstakingly fixing their mistakes. And this was how they repaid me. Remembering how it all ended, there was no way in hell I would ever sit at a table with those vipers again. After finalizing my resignation, I was walking out of the building when Poppy ran up and blocked my path. There was a flash of panic in her eyes. “Tara! You quit? Is this some kind of joke?” “Have you forgotten about your sick father? And your sister in high school? What are you going to do for money?” Her words sounded like concern, but I knew the truth. She was terrified that without my job, I had no way to pay her massive dinner bill. She knew every detail of my precarious situation, information Director Yang had undoubtedly fed her. When I first started, Director Yang had been so kind. He gave me extra gifts on holidays and was always lenient with my time-off requests. I thought he genuinely sympathized with the struggles of a kid from a poor family, so I told him everything. I never imagined he was just cataloging my weaknesses, using my family’s poverty to bury me in work, knowing I was too desperate for the money to ever quit. I smirked. “Why I need money is none of your business.” I had fought hard for this stable, respectable job, and I had treasured it. Even when I knew my colleagues hated me and my boss was exploiting me, I’d clung to it. My family’s situation left me no other choice. But being reborn had shown me that life had more options than I ever imagined. I had already accepted a long-standing offer from a Fortune 500 company. The salary was more than five times what I was making here. Seeing my nonchalant attitude, Poppy started to panic. “Fine! You want to leave? Then pay for the dinner first!” she shrieked. “I was going to pay for it myself, but you insisted on treating me as an apology! You said it was on you, that’s the only reason I agreed!” “I signed the bill with your name for the owner,” she lied, her voice getting louder. “You have to pay it.” The audacity was breathtaking. I just laughed in her face. “Whoever ate the free meal pays the price.” I clutched the box with my personal belongings and turned to leave. Suddenly, a foot shot out, and I went sprawling, my box flying as I crashed headfirst onto the pavement. My head spun, stars bursting behind my eyes. When I came to, a crowd of onlookers had gathered. “Hey! That’s her! The one from the city agency who doesn’t pay her bills!” “They make so much more than us small business owners, and they still have the nerve to cheat people!” Phones were out, cameras flashing in my face. A white-hot rage burned through me. I pushed myself up, my head throbbing, and forced the words through gritted teeth. “The one who dined-and-dashed was Poppy Yang! She’s the one who should pay!” Poppy’s face paled. She quickly made a call, summoning the restaurant owner. He arrived moments later, smiling and holding a credit card machine, thinking he was finally getting paid. My former colleagues chimed in from the sidelines. “The owner’s here now. Let’s see how she lies her way out of this one.” Poppy pointed a triumphant finger at me. “There she is, sir. That’s Tara Vance. Get the money from her!” The owner consulted a small notebook and then shook his head. “You must be mistaken, miss. The name on the tab is Poppy Yang. Why would I be asking this woman for payment?” He then pulled an employee ID card from his pocket. When Poppy saw her own ID card, the color drained from her face…

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The day my kidney stones flared up, Caleb left me stranded on the expressway. All because his childhood sweetheart called, crying about a broken pipe in her house. I begged him not to leave me there alone, but his face was a mask of cold indifference as he rolled up the window. “Call yourself a cab to the hospital.” By the time the ambulance got me there, I had already passed out from the pain three times. I was admitted, waiting for surgery. I called Caleb over a dozen times; he rejected every single one instantly. Then I saw a post on his sweetheart Anya’s Instagram story. “You mischievous boy… fixing a pipe and you got me all wet…” The picture showed Caleb’s strong, veined hands, gently dabbing a towel on the hem of Anya’s ridiculously short skirt. Later, after I recovered and was discharged, I took a solo trip to the old coastal town of Seacliff Harbor for a week. Suddenly, Caleb, who hadn’t contacted me in over ten days, started blowing up my phone like a madman. “Lina, why haven’t you been checking up on me?!” 1 Returning from Seacliff Harbor, I finally answered Caleb’s twenty-eighth call. “Lina, you haven’t been home for days. Where the hell did you go?” The accusation hit me the second I picked up. I didn’t answer, just walked calmly out of the airport terminal. It was rush hour, impossible to get a ride, so I waited by the curb. Eventually, it was Caleb who pulled up to get me. He got out, took my suitcase, and his voice dripped with sarcasm. “You vanished for so long, I almost thought you’d run away for good. But look at you, crawling back like you always do.” He continued, his tone shifting to one of command. “Our IVF appointment is in a few days. The doctor said this cycle is critical. You need to get yourself ready and stop running around.” He said it all while opening the passenger-side door for me. A cloying wave of women’s perfume hit me, so thick it made my stomach turn. I never wear perfume. “I’ll sit in the back,” I said, taking two steps back and pulling open the rear door myself. Caleb didn’t say anything. The car filled with a tense silence, so I put on my headphones and disappeared into my music. While we were stopped at a red light, he suddenly spoke. “Why are you sitting back there?” I couldn’t hear him over the music. “What?” Caleb turned to look at me, his eyes sharp. “I remember you used to insist on sitting in the passenger seat.” I remembered. Back then, I was trying to be one of those girls you see online, the cherished ones. I thought the passenger seat was the wife’s throne. I even bought one of those cutesy stickers and put it on the dashboard. Of course, that didn’t stop Caleb from letting his precious Anya sit there behind my back. Three months ago, I’d stumbled upon some dashcam footage Caleb hadn’t deleted properly. It was from a night when I was crippled with stomach pain, begging him to take me to the ER. He’d refused me coldly, only to immediately race off to pick up Anya for a concert. In the footage, Anya was in my seat, cooing at him. “Caleb, I haven’t seen you in days. I missed you!” His voice was a soft murmur. “I’m driving, don’t mess around.” “Then pull over for a second!” Soon, the car was parked on the side of the road. I heard the click of unbuckling seatbelts, followed by the soft, breathless sounds of intimacy. Later, I found a used condom under the passenger seat. After that, the seat didn’t seem so special anymore. “Lina?” Caleb’s voice pulled me from the memory. He’d parked the car and was staring at me. I took off my headphones and managed a small smile. “It’s nothing. I just realized how childish I was being before.” We arrived at our apartment building. I got out first and went straight to the trunk for my luggage. I’d barely taken a few steps when Caleb called my name, catching up to me. He tossed a wedding ring at me, the metal glinting under the streetlights. “Lina, can you stop being so careless all the time? If you can’t even keep track of a ring, how are you ever going to take care of our child?” I looked at the ring in his hand—a woman’s wedding band, identical to my own. “It’s not mine,” I said flatly. I held up my hand, showing him the ring already secure on my finger. Understanding dawned on Caleb’s face, followed by a flash of panic. He quickly shoved the ring into his pocket. “Oh, right. I gave a ride to someone the other day… a rideshare passenger must have dropped it. I’ll return it to her.” I watched the pathetic display, his acting skills as clumsy as ever. I knew exactly whose ring it was. Anya’s. It was an eight-year-old design, hard to find now. But to keep his little sweetheart happy, Caleb had a perfect replica made, a mirror image of mine. I didn’t say another word, just pulled my suitcase and started walking. Caleb hurried after me. “Let me get that.” I glanced at my watch. “We’ve got time this afternoon. Let’s go to the clinic.” If I was going to cancel, I needed to do it in advance. 2 Hearing this, Caleb let out a short, mocking laugh. “The appointment is in three days. What’s the rush?” “Let’s just get it over with. I have things to do later.” He waited for me downstairs, then floored it to the fertility clinic. Walking inside, Caleb scanned the crowded waiting room and frowned. “Lina, can you try to pull it together this time? All these failed IVF rounds… isn’t it obvious the problem is with your body? The doctor said you need to relax. Stop walking around with that long face all the time, it’s not helping you get pregnant…” I looked up at his face, a perfect picture of self-righteous indignation. For eight years of marriage, Caleb had a low sperm count. We tried for years to conceive naturally, but couldn’t. IVF was our only option. For me, the egg retrieval process was pure agony. But I endured it gladly, all for the dream of having a child that was ours. Now, none of that mattered anymore. I was about to speak when his phone rang. He answered without hesitation. A sickly-sweet voice purred through the speaker. “Caleeeeb~ My water heater’s broken again. I don’t suppose my favorite Mr. Fix-it has a moment to spare?” A smile touched Caleb’s lips, but it vanished the moment he looked back at me. He hung up, jangling his car keys. His voice was cold and final. “Something urgent came up. We’ll reschedule the IVF.” It wasn’t a discussion. It was a declaration. He was so sure I would just obey, just accept it. “Caleb,” I tried, “it’ll only take ten minutes. It won’t make you late.” He shook my hand off his arm. “The appointment was for three days from now. You’re the one who insisted on coming today. I don’t have time to indulge you!” I watched him walk away without a backward glance and drive off. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. It didn’t matter. I could cancel the appointment on my own. “Excuse me,” I said to the receptionist. “I’d like to cancel the IVF appointment for three days from now. And you can go ahead and close my file, too.” This meant I was giving up on IVF entirely. The receptionist looked up, surprised. “Are you sure? If we close the file, all your previous cycles will have been for nothing.” I nodded. “I’m sure.” After leaving the clinic, I remembered the postnatal care suite I’d pre-booked. I canceled that too. Once all the loose ends were tied, I walked into a bustling hot pot restaurant. Surrounded by the fragrant steam, I started composing a new social media post. My week in Seacliff Harbor had been beautiful. The photos deserved to be shared. I chose nine of the best, arranging them in a grid, and added a single word as the caption: “Fulfilled.” Likes and comments started pouring in, including one from Anya. A few minutes later, she updated her own feed. It was a picture of Caleb’s profile, his face a mask of concentration as he worked. “My childhood hero is always so reliable. All it takes is one call, and he drops everything to come running!” A stream of “OMG goals!” and heart emojis flooded her comments. I casually liked her post, then put my phone down and focused on my meal. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was Caleb. 3 I declined the call. He called back immediately. After this happened several times, I finally answered. “Lina, you went to Seacliff Harbor alone?” His voice was laced with anger. In the background, I could hear the faint sound of running water, like a shower. “We were supposed to go together when I had time, remember? What’s the point of you going on a trip by yourself? We talked about this, we were going to take our first family portrait there after the baby was born…” He droned on and on, and a wave of weariness washed over me. “I just felt like going, so I went,” I said simply. For eight years, I had asked him to take me to Seacliff Harbor. It was my mother’s dying wish for me. But every single time, Caleb had an excuse. “Lina, I’m just too busy right now. We’ll go when things calm down.” “I can’t get away from the office. Maybe in a few weeks.” “Let’s wait until the baby is born, then we’ll all go together.” “I don’t have time!” … By last year, he didn’t even bother making excuses. Just a flat, impatient refusal. I was done waiting. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up now.” I didn’t wait for a reply. I pressed the red icon and let out a long, slow breath. I felt… free. When I got home that night, the living room lights were on, filled with the sound of a man and a woman laughing. I pushed the door open. The two of them froze and turned to look at me. “Lina, what took you so long?” Caleb asked, standing up to take my coat. There was an edge of annoyance in his voice. My gaze drifted calmly to Anya. “Why did you bring her here?” Anya looked down, feigning shyness. “Oh, Lina, I’m so sorry. I was just in town for a business trip, and Caleb said I could crash here for a night. You don’t mind, do you?” Caleb glanced at her, then frowned at me. “Lina, if you mind, I’ll get her a hotel room.” “I don’t mind.” Their eyes both widened in disbelief. “Really?” I smiled. “You two are childhood sweethearts. You’ve been inseparable since you were kids. Why would I mind?” With that, I turned and walked toward the study. “Lina,” Caleb called from behind me. I didn’t stop. I just closed the study door behind me. I focused on my laptop, losing track of time until Caleb knocked for the fifth time. “Lina, are you really not angry?” Every other time he’d tried to have Anya stay over, it had ended in a massive fight. I’d accuse him of having no boundaries; he’d call me jealous and unreasonable. We’d go in circles, and it would end with us sleeping in separate rooms. My calm acceptance was clearly unnerving him. He kept asking, probing, making sure I wasn’t upset. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Caleb, I told you, I really don’t mind. What are you so worried about? You two could sleep in the same bed, and I wouldn’t think twice.” He studied my face, searching for any sign of anger. Finding none, he finally let out a long sigh of relief. “Okay, good. She’s only staying one night. She’ll be gone tomorrow.” 4 The sound of the shower started up in the bathroom. “Caleb, can you bring me a towel!” Anya’s syrupy voice called out. “Coming!” he answered, without a hint of irritation. He grabbed a spare towel and took it to her. “Be careful, the floor’s wet. I don’t want you to slip.” His voice was impossibly gentle. I thought about the times I’d forgotten a towel and asked for his help. He’d always snap, “Can’t you do one simple thing right? What are you good for?” I finally understood. It was never about what was done wrong. It was about who was doing it. At ten, Caleb knocked on the study door again. “When are you coming to bed?” I didn’t even look up from my screen. “You go ahead. I’m sleeping in here tonight.” The apartment soon fell silent. I don’t remember when I fell asleep. When I woke up again, it was three in the morning. I was about to get up for a glass of water when I heard hushed voices coming from the master bedroom. “Caleb, don’t you think this is… exciting?” A low grunt from Caleb, then his strained voice. “Don’t. My wife’s right in the study. It’ll be a mess if she finds out.” Anya persisted for a while longer. Finally, Caleb relented with a sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell her I’m working late tomorrow night. I’ll spend the whole night with you then.” I let out a derisive snort and shut my laptop. The next morning, I went to the office early. By the time Caleb’s call came through, I had already submitted the resignation letter I’d written the night before. My boss was stunned. “Lina, you’re at a crucial point in your career. Why resign now? Is there a problem? Maybe I can help.” I thanked him for his kindness but just smiled. “I’m just ready to try living in a different city.” He sighed, but didn’t press. He approved my resignation quickly. Caleb, of course, knew none of this. He had just woken up, his voice thick with sleep when he called. “Hey, babe. Want me to get you some breakfast?” “I’ve already eaten,” I said coolly. In the first few years of our marriage, Caleb always bought me breakfast. Adorable bento boxes, things he’d clearly put a lot of thought into. But then came the day I took a bite of a crab roe bun he’d brought home. His face had instantly turned to stone. “Are you that greedy? That was for a client!” He’d screamed the ugliest things at me. But I knew it wasn’t for a client. It was for Anya. She’d posted on Instagram about craving crab roe buns, and he, as always, had rushed to grant her every little wish. Caleb was silent on the phone for a long moment. “Okay… well, wait for me at home tonight. I’ll come back early and cook for you.” We had to get divorced sooner or later. I had just printed the divorce papers. “Okay,” I agreed easily. 5 So that’s why Caleb was so insistent on cooking dinner. He wanted something from me. “Honey, Anya’s been a huge help to the company lately. She doesn’t want much, just five percent of the company’s shares.” He said this as he placed the last dish on the table. A full, fragrant feast was spread before us. But his words left a bitter taste in my mouth, and my appetite vanished. I put down my chopsticks. “Alright,” I said with a small laugh. I went to the study to print out the share transfer agreement. When I came back, Caleb was still staring at me, dumbfounded. “Honey, you… you agreed?” He couldn’t believe it. In the past, anything involving Anya would have triggered a week-long war. But now, all I felt was a placid calm. I was leaving this city, leaving this life. None of it mattered anymore. It had nothing to do with me. “I’ve already signed my part. You’re the CEO, you just need to sign in three places.” He didn’t even bother to read it. He just grabbed a pen, scrawled his name, and handed the papers back to me. His whole demeanor softened. He even got up to ladle some soup into my bowl. “You know, you’ve been so much gentler lately. When we have our baby, our family is going to be so happy…” I didn’t reply. I just sipped my soup, thinking to myself: There is no ‘we’ anymore. Caleb left early the next morning. I’d seen his texts the night before; he wouldn’t be back for several days. Anya was dragging him on a trip, demanding his full attention to tour her new “office” and then get away for a bit. It would probably take a while. It was the perfect window. I called a real estate agent and listed the apartment for sale. This apartment, the one we lived in, was something I’d bought outright with five years of my own savings. It was meant to be my pre-marital asset, my safety net. But back then, Caleb was broke, couldn’t even afford his own rent. He just moved in with me. Over the years, as his company grew, he never mentioned moving. Whenever I brought it up, he’d just smile and say, “We’ve built so many memories here. Let’s just call it our marital home.” He promised to give me all the money he earned. And for the first few years, he did. Then it trickled down to just company dividends. Then I found out that when Anya moved to the city and needed a place to live, Caleb had bought her a two-story penthouse duplex. It was worth ten times what my apartment was. Since I was leaving, it was time to sell my property. The apartment was in a great location with excellent amenities. I priced it to sell, and it was gone in three days. After that, I sold off the rest of my shares in Caleb’s company and transferred half of our joint marital assets into my account. And then, I left the city for good. A week later, Caleb returned from his trip with Anya. On the way home, he stopped at a luxury mall and bought an expensive Chanel handbag. Anya beamed as he emerged with the box. “How did you know this was the exact one I’ve been wanting?” Caleb pulled the bag back protectively. “It’s not for you.” The smile froze on her face. A flicker of tenderness crossed Caleb’s features as he thought of me. “It’s for my wife. She’s been so gentle and understanding lately. No crying, no fighting… she’s given me everything I’ve asked for. She’s wanted this bag for ages. Think of it as a little reward.” But when he got home, swinging the shopping bag with a smug smile, his key wouldn’t turn in the lock. He frowned and knocked. “Lina?” The door swung open. Caleb lifted the bag, ready to present his surprise, but his expression soured in an instant. A burly man stood in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking him up and down. “Who the hell are you?”

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The fifth year of our marriage was the year my husband, Ethan, told me he’d found his soulmate. I, apparently, was just the daughter-in-law his parents had always wanted, not the other half of his soul. As a consolation prize, he offered me a check for five million dollars and sincerely suggested I take our daughter and disappear. The day I signed the divorce papers, my mother-in-law kicked him squarely in the ass. “You ungrateful parasite,” she hissed. “Take your little tramp and get out of my house!” My father-in-law, his eyes glistening with tears, looked at me and slid a thick portfolio across the table. It contained stock certificates and the deeds to all their properties. “Finally,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “These can finally go to my real daughter, where they belong.” 1 I was stunned into silence. Ethan was even more bewildered, but he recovered quickly, his face hardening with impatience. “You think this little act is going to make me stay? Forget it. It’s over. I already lost three years with Serena. I’m not losing another minute.” He puffed out his chest, a smug look spreading across his face. “I know you’ve always wanted a grandson. Well, Serena and I have a son. He’s three years old. I’ll bring them over to meet you tomorrow. The second you see him, you’ll fall in love.” He looked from his father to his mother, his expression triumphant. “There. Are you satisfied now?” My in-laws stared at each other, their mouths agape. In their eyes, I saw a cocktail of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. Disbelief? Pity? Utter contempt? Was I seeing things? Honestly, I’d initially agreed with Ethan’s theory. This had to be some kind of elaborate performance designed to guilt him into staying. After all, before they’d even met me, they couldn’t stand the idea of me. I was an orphan, a nobody. They’d called me countless times, begging me to leave their son alone. I was on the verge of giving up and finding a new target when they finally agreed to meet me. The moment they saw me, their attitude did a complete one-eighty. Suddenly, they were rushing us to the altar. The dowry was an eight-figure sum. Forty percent of the company stock. A real estate portfolio so vast I lost count—somewhere over eighty properties, I think. The traditional gold jewelry arrived in chests. I don’t know if marriage is a tomb, but it was most certainly a treasure vault. After the wedding, they treated me like I was made of spun glass, catering to my every whim. I remember once, watching TV, I casually mentioned that I loved a certain celebrity. The next day, my in-laws had him flown in for a private performance in our living room. He did backflips. Their adoration was so absolute that, over the years, I let my guard down. The wealth gave me a confidence I’d never known. I stopped trying so hard, stopped playing the part of the sweet, demure girl Ethan had fallen for. He started complaining. What happened to the innocent little flower he’d met? Why had she turned into a cactus? But back to the present. After a long, silent moment, my in-laws finally turned their bewildered gazes back to their son. “You’re going to bring your son to see us tomorrow?” my mother-in-law asked slowly. “He’s three years old?” my father-in-law added. “He’s… yours?” A paternal softness crept into Ethan’s smug expression. “Of course he is! I had a paternity test done. Serena and the kids have had it so tough overseas these past three years. She’s been raising four children all on her own. It’s been unbelievably difficult.” He shook his head, full of manufactured sympathy. “And she never once asked me for help. It was a complete accident that I ran into her after she moved back. That’s the only reason I found out I had a son.” “She’s strong, independent, gentle, and kind,” he continued, his voice swelling. “And her sons are so polite and well-behaved. You’ll absolutely love them when you meet them.” I was so shocked I couldn’t speak, my own expression now mirroring my in-laws’ look of pure idiocy. “Four… sons?” I finally managed to choke out. Ethan shot me a look of contempt. “A family like ours needs a male heir, Sophie. And while three of them aren’t mine, they’ll be great support for my son as he grows up. Every prince needs a court, right? Better to raise them loyal from the start.” He waved a dismissive hand at me. “As for Lily, she’s my daughter, and I won’t neglect her. I’ll make her a department manager or something when she’s older.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s the best I can do. If you ask for anything more, don’t blame me for getting nasty.” I fell silent, a dawning realization sinking in. Maybe the reason I’d successfully landed him all those years ago wasn’t because of my masterful charm, but because he was, and always had been, a complete and utter moron. Seeing my furrowed brow, Ethan’s temper flared. “What’s that look for, Sophie? Are you looking down on Serena?” “Let me tell you something,” he spat, “if an orphan like you could marry into the Hayes family, then so can she! And she gave me a son.” “And whatever my parents gave you as a dowry, they’ll give her double!” The words were barely out of his mouth when I saw my father-in-law and mother-in-law each raise a hand, all five fingers spread. Ethan blinked, and then a slow, greedy smile spread across his face. “Thank you, Mom and Dad! Fifty million! Now that’s more like it!” In the next instant, two blurs of motion cut through the air. I barely had time to blink before the sharp, wet crack of open palms against skin echoed in the cavernous living room. Ethan’s face twitched, his mouth frozen in a perfect “O” of shock. He stared at his parents, his hand trembling as he pointed a finger at them. “You… you actually hit me!” he stammered. “You hit your own son for an outsider? Have you lost your minds? After everything I just told you, you’re still siding with her? What has she done to you?” He took a menacing step forward. “I am the future of this family! You’d better think long and hard about who you’re betting on, or you’ll end up old and alone!” My mother-in-law didn’t even bother to look at him again. She just turned to her husband with disgust. “We were fools,” she said, her voice dripping with regret. “How did we raise something like this? You need to come with me to the temple tomorrow. We need to beg for forgiveness. What a terrible sin we’ve committed.” My father-in-law nodded, his face a mask of grief. “We should have never been so superficial. A handsome face, but a mind full of mud and a heart full of filth. Thank God we’re still here. Who else would look out for Sophie?” Superficial? What did they mean by that? The question had barely formed in my mind when I felt a scorching gaze fall upon me. Ethan, his face now a mottled red with rage, glared at me. “What kind of spell did you cast on them? Their own son! Their own grandson! They’re throwing us away for you!” “Don’t get too comfortable,” he snarled. “They haven’t met Serena yet. Once they see her, you think you’ll still be so smug? They’ll throw you out on the street where you belong!” I looked down at my own hand, then slowly curled my fingers into a claw. With a surge of fury, I lunged forward and raked my nails down his face. He screamed, clutching his cheeks as blood seeped through his fingers. “Sophie! You’re a damn shrew!” he yelled. “I let a viper into my own home!” I was about to let loose another volley of insults when my in-laws shouted in unison, “Bravo!” A strange feeling bloomed in my chest. Was it possible? Were they actually on my side? This wasn’t an act? I had attacked their son, the point of no return. This should have been the moment the charade ended, the moment they showed their true colors. But what was this? I had to admit, for the past five years, they had treated me better than any biological daughter could hope for. But deep down, I’d always maintained a sliver of doubt. I believed their kindness was transactional—they were good to me because I was their son’s wife, and in return, I would be good to their son. But I had just physically assaulted him, tearing the last shreds of civility to pieces, and they were… cheering me on. This had to be real. Ethan saw that his parents were still defending me, and his rage boiled over. “Just wait until Serena gets here!” he screamed, storming toward the door. “Then you’ll see what a real woman looks like!”

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A new, gloomy transfer student showed up in our class. And, because I talk too much, I had been exiled to the “VIP seat” right next to the teacher’s desk. That’s when these weird pop-up captions appeared in my vision: [This is the m/a/ligned little mute, Leo. After being bullied, he turns into the story’s main villain.] My eyes lit up. I’d caught the keyword. Mute. A mute is good! A mute can’t snitch! 1 Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Honey, looked at the class. “Would anyone be willing to be our new student, Leo’s…” I shot out of my seat, waving both hands. “Ms. Honey! Yes, I do!” Ms. Honey pressed me back down into my chair with one hand, her gaze passing right over me. “…desk-mate?” The room was silent. Everyone was happy with their current seat partners. Everyone, that is, except me. I was the class pariah, exiled to the teacher’s-desk-adjacent VIP seat after a long and storied history of being snitched on for talking too much. Ms. Honey scanned the room and sighed, finally acknowledging my existence. “Mia, you’re moving.” She gave me a long, pleading look. “You need to be nice to our new student. And… especially try to talk a little less.” I saw Leo, who had been staring at the floor, flinch. But I was too busy celebrating. I was getting a conversation partner! I jumped up and gave a sharp salute. “Yes, ma’am! Mission accepted!” I hoisted my desk into the air and hauled it to the perfect spot in the back. Then I grabbed our new, gloomy student by the arm. “C’mon, don’t be shy! From now on, you’re my number-one conversation buddy!” He sat down silently. Sam, our Math Rep, turned around to say hi. I shooed him away. Don’t interrupt my bonding time! “So, I’m a Pisces, which means I’m super sensitive and I really can’t handle the silent treatment. I need, like, constant validation. My favorite hobby is cooking. I’ll bring you some of my homemade breakfast tomorrow. You’ll love it…” Before I could finish, Leo silently pulled a piece of paper out of his bag and stood it on the desk between us, blocking his face. Then he just… started reading. …Huh? I thought about it. What was this? Hide-and-seek? Okay, I can play. I shut up and hid my face behind my own book. I waited. And just when he started to relax… I let out a low, slow, truly evil cackle—hehehe… Hehehe… MWAHAHAHA—and ripped the paper away. “Boo!” He practically jumped out of his skin. “Mia!” Ms. Honey, at the front of the room, was not amused. I shot up. “Sorry, teacher! My fault! Won’t happen again!” I sat back down, only to watch Leo pull a literal brick out of his backpack. He set it on the desk between us and stuck a Post-it Note to it: [KEEP OUT]. Oh. So it was a border. The DMZ. I sighed. It’s fine. It’s fine. He might not understand me now, but I was sure that after a period of friendly (one-sided) conversation, he’d see my kind, warm-hearted nature. And besides, he was a mute. He couldn’t tattle on me, no matter how much I talked. Heh. Heh heh. 2 Before English class, Ms. Honey had us review our vocabulary. I’ve always been a “community learner,” meaning I scrounged answers from everyone around me. My front-deskmate would hold his book up. My back-deskmate would trace letters on my back. My old seatmate would mouth the words. It’s how I survived. My new front-deskmate, Sam, turned around and gave me a “don’t worry” thumbs-up. The person behind me tapped my back. I was ready. Except Ms. Honey, betraying all trust, announced a pop quiz. Written. All books were put away. Suddenly, I was all alone. I hadn’t memorized a single word. I’d spent all morning thinking about what kind of breakfast to make tomorrow. I snuck a peek at Leo. His profile was sharp, his jawline defined. He was writing, focused. I panicked. If he can’t talk, he can’t memorize. If he can’t memorize, he can’t write the answers. I was doomed. But as I squinted, I saw that what he was writing… actually matched the few words I did remember. Wait. I started copying, my pen flying. No wonder I could never memorize anything by yelling it at myself. The secret was silent studying! I made a mental note to try “silent studying” more often. In fact, I observed that Leo was a genius. In math, while the rest of us were frantically signaling for help, he’d just quietly draw one line, and the whole impossible problem would solve itself. I, naturally, praised him while trying to copy his homework. “Leo, you’re a genius!” I whispered, leaning in as he frantically tried to cover his paper. His ears, pale and delicate, were right there. “You’re my favorite person! We have to be seatmates forever! I am literally your number-one fan!” His ears turned bright red. He shot me an annoyed look and… covered his ears. Which, of course, left his homework completely undefended. Heh. Heh heh. 3 To prove my love was real, I woke up at an ungodly hour to cook. I made a huge batch and left half on the table for my parents. I burst into their room. “Good morning, creators of this amazing child! I have prepared a gourmet breakfast for you!” My mom went stiff, then pulled the covers over her head. She kicked my dad out of the bed. “You’re up.” My dad stumbled out, his hair a mess, and walked right past my culinary masterpiece. I was crushed. “You’re disrespecting my labor! That took me forever! You’ll regret this!” “I’ll regret it later,” he mumbled, pushing me out the door. “We’re late.” In the car, he asked, “So, still enjoying the VIP seat?” “Pfft,” I said. “I have a new seatmate. He’s great. He’s a mute, so he can’t snitch on me. And he’s a genius who memorizes everything silently. He’s so lucky to have me. I even woke up early to make him breakfast.” My dad just gave me this… this look. Of pity. I proudly placed the container on top of the border-brick. “My dearest Leo, if this breakfast meets your standards, will you finally agree to tear down this wall? To unify our territory?” He stared at the breakfast for a long time. He hesitated, then picked up the sandwich. He looked at me. I nodded enthusiastically. He took a tiny bite. His chewing… slowed. Then stopped. Five seconds later, a sound. “Bleeghh…” He clamped a hand over his mouth and sprinted out of the classroom. I froze. “Wait. He’s not a mute!” [The heroine’s cooking is so powerful it cured the villain’s mutism!] […Are we sure it’s not a deadly poison?] [He’s literally power-vomiting in the hallway. Poor guy.] What? My cooking is amazing! I didn’t even eat any myself! I saved it all for my parents and Leo! Some people just have no taste. 4 When Leo came back, his eyes were red. He ignored me completely. It’s fine. I’m not sensitive. “So, was it good? You liked it, right? Was it the tuna? I can make strawberry tomorrow, just give me some feedback!” He turned his back to me. “Hey, what’s your secret? How are you so smart? Did you eat special brain food as a kid? Can you send me the link?” He was silent for a second, then turned around, pointed at my head, then shrugged and shook his head, like: Nothing in there. …I was furious. That’s it. No more talking. I focused on my book, trying his “silent studying” method. I silently studied… I silently… I… zzz… My head flopped onto something warm. And soft. I unconsciously snuggled into it. A second later, I was shoved awake. Leo was facing away from me, but his entire neck was bright red. I rubbed my eyes and went back to “silent studying.” Zzzzz…

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The System assigned me a mission: Redeem the psychotic villain. So, I brought him straight to my house. “My kid brother is in sixth grade and, let’s just say, going through a phase. Your job is to watch him. If he acts up, you have permission to use force.” “Three hundred bucks a day. Room and board included.” The future villain, currently just a street thug named Jax, didn’t hesitate. He followed me home. But not even twenty-four hours later, he was trying to renegotiate. “You didn’t tell me the kid was like that!” “I need a raise!” I nodded furiously, not daring to argue. Because my little demon brother? He’s in sixth grade, stands 6’3″, and weighs 260 pounds. Oh, and he’s trained in MMA, boxing, and wushu… 1 The System told me I had to save Jax. Apparently, a tragic backstory would eventually turn him into a heartless, society-destroying supervillain. I was busy. I had a life. I wasn’t interested. So, I said no. But then the System dropped some intel: “Jax is a ruthless psycho. He’s domineering, brutal, cunning, and vindictive.” “He’s bad news now. Imagine what he’ll be like when he fully snaps…” Ruthless? Brutal? Cunning? Vindictive? My ears perked up. Is he really that tough? Then dealing with an elementary schooler should be a piece of cake for him, right? Suddenly, saving a villain sounded like a fantastic idea. I needed—desperately needed—a ruthless psycho to handle the monster living in my house. My brother, Leo. At three, he set the living room on fire. At four, he dismantled the structural integrity of the house. At five, he tried to base jump off the roof. At six, he threw firecrackers into a funeral procession… If he goes a day without a beating, he gets itchy. If you take your eyes off him for two seconds, he causes a catastrophe. Last year, at ten years old, he blew up a manhole cover and totaled seven parked cars… Now he’s in sixth grade, and the disasters are scaling up. My amateur attempts at discipline were failing. I couldn’t stop him from terrorizing the neighborhood. I needed a professional. I needed heavy artillery. I needed someone to beat the humanity back into him. Since Jax was a certified psycho, he seemed like the perfect candidate to humble a rebellious pre-teen. So, without hesitation, I accepted the mission: Save the Tragic Villain. The System then filled me in on the tragedy. Jax’s sister, Lily, was going to be tricked by their mother into being sold to her stepfather’s creditors, shipped off to Southeast Asia, and… well, it ends badly. Lily commits suicide. Jax snaps. He kills his stepfather, hacks up his mother, flees the country, changes his name, and returns as a serial killer hunting down everyone who hurt his sister. Hearing this, my first move was to find Jax and immediately fund Lily’s transfer to an elite, closed-campus boarding school. I made sure the scumbag parents couldn’t get within a mile of her. Lily was safe. Jax was suspicious. He cornered me, demanding to know my angle. I burst into tears before I could even speak. “I need you to beat someone up for me!” “Like, beat them within an inch of their life, but don’t actually kill them!” I listed Leo’s crimes through my sobs, recounting a decade of chaos. Jax probably just pitied me. When I mentioned $300 a day plus room and board, he nodded immediately. “Done. Beating people is my specialty. I can do ‘half-dead’.” 2 It was pick-up time at the elementary school. The streets were gridlocked. Jax and I stood in the waiting zone. He watched the sea of yellow school hats, looking bored. Seeing him zoning out, I elbowed him. I needed to prepare him. “Have you ever seen Attack on Titan?” Jax looked at me, confused. Suddenly, the ground began to tremble. Thump! Thump! Thump! A deafening, milky voice pierced the air. “Sis! Sis! Siiiis!” The high-pitched screech was like a sonic weapon. I plastered a stiff smile on my face. Jax looked up in shock. Among the swarm of tiny children, a 6’3″ behemoth rose like a skyscraper. He was wearing a yellow hat and a red scarf, thundering toward me. Thump! Thump! Thump! “SIIIIIS!!!!!” I took a deep breath, bracing myself. I shouted a warning to Jax. “Squat! Center of gravity forward!” But Jax froze. He stared at the incoming missile, eyes bulging. “That’s your brother?” “Primary school?” Yes. That’s my brother. Primary school. What’s with the look? Who says a sixth grader can’t be 6’3″ and 260 pounds? Did he eat your rice? Drink your milk? No. I didn’t have time to explain because I was already embedded deep into my brother’s ample gut, being carried ten yards down the sidewalk. Thankfully, Jax snapped out of it and peeled me off him. Otherwise, I would have been subjected to the “Human Centrifuge” spin cycle again. Once I was safely on the ground, I introduced them. “This is Leo. My biological brother.” Then I turned to Leo, putting on my scariest face. “This is Jax. He’s here to handle you!” Leo ignored me completely. He grinned at Jax, eyes sparkling with mischief. They stared at each other in silence. Jax: Stone-faced. Leo: Making faces. I stepped back and sized them up. They were about the same height. But Leo was built like a tank. Jax… well… he looked like a twig. “Ahem! Leo! Jax is in charge now! You have to listen to Big Brother Jax!” “He’s super mean. If you don’t listen, he will hit you!” Leo didn’t look scared. He looked thrilled. “Awesome! I like this guy!” “He looks durable!” Excuse me? Without warning, Leo launched himself vertically, executing a body slam directly onto Jax! Me: “Ah!” Passersby: “Ah!” Jax: “Oof…” It’s over. It’s all over. Jax is going to be crushed on day one. My herniated disc came from exactly this move! I closed my eyes in despair. Can even a villain withstand the Demon Child? But then… Jax stumbled back two steps, planted his feet, and caught him! His face turned beet red, veins popping on his arms. But he didn’t drop him. He even hefted Leo up a bit when he started to slide. Terrifying strength! In that moment, I thanked the System. Thank you for this mission. Thank you for letting the villain save me! 3 Our parents died in a car crash when Leo was in first grade. I was still in college, unable to care for him, so Leo went to live with our grandparents. They spoiled him rotten. Grief mixed with generational doting meant Leo got whatever he wanted. Naturally, he turned into a monster. With grandparents as his shield, he terrorized the household. With his size advantage, he became the school bully. In one semester, we were called to the principal’s office countless times. He was nearly expelled. If I hadn’t fought my grandparents and taken him back, Leo would be in juvie by now. I’m the only one who can somewhat control him. But they say you have to discipline them young. By third grade, I physically couldn’t beat him anymore. In fourth grade, he was 5’11”. Fifth grade, 6’1″. Now? 6’3″. The doctor says he’s still growing. I stopped growing at 5’3″. The envy burns. Now, he’s more rebellious than ever. My scolding does nothing. He hangs out with dropouts and street punks. They use him as a tank because he’s a minor and can’t be easily prosecuted. I tried to stop it, but I can’t physically restrain him, and emotionally, he uses our grandparents against me. “I’ll kill myself! I’ll starve! I’ll jump!” Modern kids and their threats. I considered sending him to a boot camp, but I was afraid it would ruin him. Thank god the System sent me a psycho. 4 Leo was salty about failing to crush Jax. On the way home, he kept testing him. Tripping attempts. Surprise tackles. Rear naked chokes. Jax neutralized them all effortlessly. Since our parents died, to protect Leo from bullies, I signed him up for everything: MMA, boxing, Wushu, Taekwondo… The coaches called him a prodigy. They said no normal person could handle him. They quit after two months because they ran out of things to teach him. Really, they were just terrified. Watching the two of them spar in the living room—it was a blur of motion. I thanked the System again. Villain Jax is amazing! Truly amazing! “I am the Golden Leg! He is the Iron Head!” Ya-ho! Ya-ho! Seeing Leo getting reckless, I slumped on the sofa and gave Jax a look: Go ahead. I won’t intervene. The living room erupted. “Ah! Not the face! I have Iron Head technique! Hah! Take my Golden Leg!” Jax, cold and ruthless: “Iron Head, huh? Golden Leg, huh?” Being physically dominated for the first time, Leo realized Jax was the real deal. He tried to pull out his phone to call Grandma for backup. I signaled Jax. He understood instantly. The battle for the phone began. It was chaos. Furniture flew. Leo lunged like a hungry tiger. “Avalanche! Mountain Press!” Jax dodged, spun, and countered with a Black Tiger Heart Strike. “Hmph. Child’s play.” Leo flailed his arms, attempting the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms. Jax didn’t flinch. He used a teleportation step, appeared behind Leo, and delivered a thunderous Buddha’s Palm strike directly to Leo’s ample buttocks. Jax’s internal energy was profound. Leo’s sixty-pound ass cheeks rippled in the air. Silence. Then, a roar that shook the foundations. “JAX! I’m gonna kill you!” “Who are you talking to? Say that again?” “I’m your daddy!” Smack! Smack! Smack! Jax snatched the phone and tossed it to me. Then he grabbed Leo by the neck and went to town on his backside. The sound was rhythmic. Pa-pa-pa. Leo, a 260-pound bull, twisted and turned but couldn’t escape. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I’d wanted to confiscate that phone for ages. He was addicted to games and weird, greasy short videos. But I couldn’t take it by force. Now Jax was here, solving my biggest headache. Phone gone, Leo’s eyes turned red. He pointed at me. “Give it back! Grandpa bought that for me! Who are you to take it?” My heart skipped a beat. I closed my eyes. Biological brother. Biological brother… Then I kicked him in the face. “Brat! You want to die? I’ll tear you apart!” I threw my phone and tackled him. Leo, as always, only defended, letting me hit him. But his mouth was still running. “Tyrant! Dictator! Why can you have a phone and I can’t? Unfair! I demand rights!” “You bully me! You hired a hitman! I’m telling Grandma!” “Unless you give it back!” I dragged him by the ear. He dragged me toward the door. “Let go! I’m running away! Better to die on the streets than live without a phone! You heartless…” He stopped. Jax was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, face blank. “Go ahead. Try to leave.”

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My best friend called me in the middle of the night for an emergency ab-touching session. Except the one who opened the door wasn’t some random guy she’d brought home. It was her little brother. “Abs. Fresh from college. All yours,” Sloane announced, shoving me forward. “My brother is your brother. Come on, Nate, say hi.” I squeezed my eyes shut, letting Sloane steer my hand across the warm, sculpted landscape of his stomach. But her brother wasn’t playing along. He leaned against the doorframe, his voice a low, teasing drawl that sent a shiver down my spine. “Why won’t you look at me, Audrey?” “You weren’t this shy two years ago.” Holy shit. Two years ago, when I rocked his world, I had absolutely no idea he was my best friend’s brother. 1 “Why won’t you look at me, Audrey?” His voice was a low murmur, laced with something that dangerously resembled amusement. “You weren’t this shy two years ago.” “What’s he talking about?” Sloane asked, her voice oblivious and booming. But I was already dying. A slow, agonizing death right there in the hallway of my best friend’s apartment. How was I supposed to explain to Sloane that two years ago, I’d mistaken her baby brother for my blind date, dragged him to a hotel, and proceeded to have the single most unforgettable night of my life? Nate, her brother, twisted the knife. “It’s just… you look a little familiar, is all.” Sloane’s head whipped around to face me. “Familiar? You two know each other?” The look of raw panic on my face melted instantly into one of wide-eyed innocence. I shook my head so fast my neck protested. “Nope. Never seen him. Total stranger.” “See? I knew it!” Sloane laughed, completely satisfied. “He just got back in the States two years ago, right when you were home dealing with that string of disastrous dates your mom set up. No way you could’ve crossed paths.” She punctuated her statement by grabbing my hand and slapping it, hard, against her brother’s sculpted abdomen. “Ngh…” Nate’s jaw tightened, and a low grunt escaped his lips. Damn. It was the exact same sound he’d made two years ago, just as sexy, but now it was layered with a deeper, grainier texture that was somehow even more potent. “What was that for?” he grumbled, rubbing the spot. “What was what for?” Sloane shot back, mimicking his grunt with a disgusted look. “Stop being weird.” She yanked me behind her like a protective mother hen. “And what is with this outfit? The hair, the shirt… who are you trying to seduce at this hour?” “Why, your friend, of course,” Nate said, his eyes locking onto mine, a predatory glint in them. The playful tone was gone, replaced by something sharp. “This… ‘unfamiliar, never-seen-before, total stranger’ friend of yours.” “You’re insane. Ignore him, Audrey, let’s go.” Sloane dragged me toward her bedroom. It was only fifteen feet, but my legs felt like they were made of lead, each step a clumsy, uncoordinated lurch. Just before the door clicked shut, I saw Nate leaning against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. His voice followed us down the hall, a hot whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. “Goodnight, Audrey. Sweet dreams.” 2 There was nothing sweet about my dreams that night. First, Sloane kept me up until the early hours, dissecting our college yearbook and gleefully tearing apart every single person we’d ever disliked. Then, there was Nate. I never would have imagined he had this level of persistence. At four in the morning, when my bladder finally screamed for mercy, I found him waiting for me. He was crouched by the bathroom door like a panther in the shadows. “I knew you’d have to get up, Audrey.” He rose to his full height, blocking my path. “Two years ago, in that hotel room, when I had you flipped over—” An alarm blared in my head. I lunged forward, clapping a hand over his mouth as if my life depended on it, which, in a way, it did. That night was a blur I tried desperately to forget. Only a couple of hours were actually spent in the bed. The rest of the time was a whirlwind tour of the suite’s other amenities: the shower, the desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows… Best not to dwell on it. I glanced back toward the bedroom. Sloane was a lump under the covers, dead to the world. When I turned back, Nate had closed the distance between us. His hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He was warm, solid, and smelled faintly of soap and something uniquely him. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck. “It really hurt my feelings, you know. Pretending you didn’t know me.” His voice was a soft, wounded murmur. “But seeing you again… God, I can’t stop smiling.” The stubble on his chin scratched gently against my skin, and his words were like a kitten’s claws, playfully but insistently scraping at my resolve. Stop it. Stop trying to charm me. “Were you waiting for me?” he whispered. I shoved at his chest, peeling his hands from my waist. “I was not. I have to pee. Unless you want to join me?” I added, my voice dripping with sarcasm. A slow grin spread across his face, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. “Can I? I could help.” I fought to keep my voice low, a harsh whisper. “Nate!” The next thing I knew, he had my wrist in his grip. With one smooth motion, he pulled me into the dark bathroom. 3 He lifted me onto the marble countertop as if I weighed nothing. The cool stone was a shock against my skin. Click. He’d locked the door. In the suffocating silence of the small room, his eyes seemed to glow, dark and feral. He braced his hands on either side of me, trapping me in the cage of his arms. “Nate, stop messing around. I’m your sister’s best friend. If she finds out, she’ll literally kill us both.” “I’m not messing around,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ve just… really missed you.” It was too dark to read the expression in his eyes, but I saw his silhouette dip lower. A memory flashed, hot and vivid: that night, him kneeling before me, his eyes wet and wide as he looked up, like a loyal puppy devoted to its master. My entire body went soft. No. Not now. I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Nate.” It was like he’d lost his mind. He mumbled, his voice thick, “Audrey, when you say my name like that, it just makes me…” His shadow moved closer. I held my breath. Just as our lips were about to touch, he veered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the underside of my jaw. He pulled back just enough to look up at me from under his lashes, his expression a devastating mix of reverence and hurt. “You slept with me and then you vanished,” he whispered. “I never forgot that.” Everyone knows a woman in her late twenties is in her prime. And right now, with him looking at me like that, every cell in my body was on fire. But a fragile thread of morality, of loyalty to Sloane, held me back. Finally, I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “Okay, so what do you want from me? It was a one-night stand. You expect me to take responsibility for it now?” He leaned in again, his breath ghosting across my lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” “Well, I am!” I gripped his shoulders, trying to channel my inner big sister. “Nate, listen to me. Whatever happened in the past, stays in the past. After tonight—hell, after this very second—we’re done. I’m your sister’s friend, and you’re my friend’s little brother. That kiss just now? It never happened. I won’t hold it against you. Tomorrow, we go back to normal.” The warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by a chilling darkness. Before I could slide off the counter, he seized my wrist, twisting my arm gently behind my back. His eyes were hard, his face set with a look of grim determination. “Then I guess,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, “we’re just not leaving this bathroom, Audrey.” 4 He wasn’t kidding. I didn’t get out of that bathroom all night. My nerves were shot, every muscle coiled tight with the fear of being discovered. But for Nate, the risk was clearly part of the thrill. One moment, he’d be sweeping the hair from my neck, whispering, “Don’t hold back, Audrey. Tell me what you want.” The next, he’d be kissing my earlobe, a devilish murmur against my skin. “Careful. Sloane might hear you.” I was a wreck, my entire body buzzing with a mixture of terror and exhilaration. By the time Sloane woke up the next morning, I was still fast asleep. “Seriously, Audrey? Since when are you the one who sleeps in?” I couldn’t even pry my eyelids open. “Please,” I groaned. “Just five more minutes…” Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. “Audrey, why is your mouth all swollen?” My eyes flew open. Sloane was leaning over me, her face a mask of clinical curiosity as she pointed at my lips. “It looks like you bit it or something in your sleep.” I shot up in bed like I’d been electrocuted, ready to spin some wild excuse. But the movement was too abrupt. The oversized t-shirt I’d slept in shifted, and one of the straps slid down my shoulder. Sloane’s gaze traveled from my face, down my neck, and her eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God! Is that a hickey on your neck?” she shrieked. “Tell me everything! Who is he?” “No, wait, it’s not what you think—” “I did it.”

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Before winter break, the new transfer student kept “accidentally” running into my childhood sweetheart. First, she’d twist her ankle. Then, she “just couldn’t understand” the homework. But my childhood sweetheart, Roman, is a possessive, unhinged germaphobe. So when the new girl, in front of me, hiked her skirt up and pretended to fall into his arms, Roman just stepped back. He watched her crash into the swimming pool and start to flail. “If you don’t want to live,” he said, his voice cold, “dying is always an option.” 1 My childhood sweetheart, Roman, is a germaphobe and dangerously possessive. He can’t stand anyone touching him. Except me. At his worst, he’d flinch if his own parents got too close. I’m the only leash that can hold this “mad dog.” In eighth grade, as the housekeeper’s daughter, I was sent to the same elite prep school as the young master. On the first day, I was walking past the gym in my school uniform skirt. Some idiot whistled at me. Roman grabbed a metal chair and threw it at his head. Even at a prep school filled with entitled brats, Roman was on another level. He was red-eyed, a total psycho, ready to fight the entire lacrosse team. But I just stood there. I said his name, just once. He froze. The psycho vanished. He just… turned and looked at me, his expression wounded. Mad dog to good dog, just like that. That day, the rumor that the unhinged school prince had been tamed spread across the entire campus. Soon, a new saying followed: If you piss off Roman, Sienna might be able to save you. If you piss off Sienna? You’re dead. It was cringey, sure, but it was accurate. And that rumor held true all the way through high school. Until sophomore year, when she showed up. 2 Her name was Sadie. Long, dark hair, an innocent face. She turned every head, not because she was stunning, but because she looked exactly like me. Even that aloof, don’t-touch-me vibe was a cheap copy. I saw Roman stare at her. As she passed us, she flicked her hair and shot me a look. Pure provocation. What she didn’t see was Roman’s brow furrowing, just slightly. A look of pure disgust. After first period, the teacher called me—as class president—to her office. The gist: “Please take care of the new student.” I nodded. When I got back, Roman was waiting for me, leaning against the doorframe. The second he saw me, his face lit up and he pushed off the wall to walk toward me. Sadie “happened” to be walking by at that exact moment. She stumbled, a perfect, graceful trip aimed right at Roman’s chest. Roman just frowned and took one step back. Thud. Sadie hit the floor, hard. Roman didn’t even look down. He was already at my side, smiling. 3 “What’s up? Teacher need something?” The girl on the floor, however, delivered her lines with impressive timing. She looked up, her eyes watery. “Sienna… I just got here. I didn’t do anything to you, did I? Why would you… why would you do that?” She looked so fragile, all damsel-in-distress. The few kids in the hall looked over. She thought she’d won. She didn’t get it. This is our school. They weren’t looking at her with pity; they were watching a train wreck. I’m known for being nice. I’m the class president. I don’t use the “mad dog” to bite people just because they’re annoying. But Roman stepped next to me, his whole body tense, radiating “don’t-touch-her” energy. The air in the hallway got cold. People backed away. Before the “psycho” could fully emerge, I grabbed his hand. “Let’s go,” I said. “She clearly doesn’t need help.” Instantly, the tension snapped. The only thing in Roman’s world was our joined hands. 4 The school gives us a two-hour lunch break, so most students go back to their dorms for a nap. I had to run back to grab a textbook. I passed the courtyard behind the cafeteria and heard voices. Then I heard my name. “Sienna is such a bitch! She’s always in the way! You need to figure out a way to get rid of her!” I looked. It was Sadie, sitting on a bench, eating from a lunchbox. She was completely alone. Then I heard another voice, a mature man’s, coming from nowhere. It sounded robotic. “Then earn more Conquest Points. Points solve everything.” Conquest Points? I froze. “You said this face was his type!” Sadie complained, stabbing her food. “Why isn’t he falling for me?” “He is,” the voice said. “The Conquest Value rose by one point today.” I was stunned. Roman. My Roman… was “conquerable”? “So what’s next?” Sadie asked. “That whole ‘innocent girl’ act isn’t working.” “Then change tactics. Men like novelty. Sienna is cold and aloof; she probably never shows him any affection. You be warm. Be passionate.” “Fine. I’ll try.” …I slipped away. 5 Sure enough, Sadie changed tactics. After class, she bounced over to our desks, a stack of textbooks in her arms. She was like a hyperactive sparrow, chirping away. The guy in front of us finally snapped. “Can you shut up? The teacher just explained this. Were you even listening?” Sadie tossed her hair. “I can listen and still ask questions, can’t I?” “They’re simple equations. If you still don’t get it, you should probably see a doctor.” “You don’t get it,” she said, leaning past him to smile at Roman. “I’m not really here for the answers. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you, Roman.” She propped her chin on her hands. “I like you.” The class went dead silent. Kids who were asleep were suddenly nudged awake. Roman, who had been doodling, looked up. He looked at Sadie. Then he looked at me, clearly waiting for a signal. I just turned my head and looked out the window, pretending to be bored. I heard him grind his teeth. His voice dropped ten degrees. “I don’t need you to. Get lost.” Sadie’s smile faltered. She opened her mouth to try again, but Roman grabbed the nearest textbook and hurled it. “Can’t you understand English?” The book smashed into the wall an inch from her head. A few kids snickered. Sadie stared at me, her face burning, and then stomped off.

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The second year of my arranged marriage to Julian Vance, my college boyfriend suddenly moves back to the city. My husband, usually a man of icy, perfect composure, hands me divorce papers. I stare at them. “What’s this?” His voice actually trembles. “Your old flame is back. I’ll get out of the way.” Me: “…Huh??” 1 I got home from the networking dinner at almost eleven. I kicked off my heels, rubbing the ache in my neck as I walked in, only to be blocked by my husband. Julian was staring at me, his face a cold mask. “You were drinking?” “A little.” He let out a sharp, cold laugh. “You don’t usually drink. What, so happy to see an old flame?” My brain was sluggish from the wine. It took a second to realize he was being passive-aggressive. I looked up, meeting his eyes. “If you have something to say, just say it. I’m exhausted.” His gaze drifted over my face, then suddenly locked on one spot, his eyes turning to ice. “Why is your neck red?” I instinctively reached up to scratch it. “I don’t know, a big bite, probably?” His tone was laced with sarcasm. “Was that ‘bug’ named Connor Grant?” Connor Grant. My ex-boyfriend’s name. Suddenly, Julian’s weird mood made sense. Before I could say anything, he thrust the papers in his clenched fist toward me. “Sign it.” My eyes dropped. I read the words at the top: DIVORCE AGREEMENT. No exaggeration, I sobered up instantly. “What?” I said, incredulous. “Why are you suddenly doing this?” “Isn’t this what you want?” he said. “Connor just got back, and you immediately run off to have drinks with him, coming home with…” His eyes darted back to my neck, and he fell silent. “I wasn’t drinking with him,” I argued. “I was with Mr. Kincaid from TransCore. I told you about that project.” “You were drinking with Connor.” He latched onto it. “Yes, he was there,” I explained, “but I didn’t know he would be! He and Kincaid are friends. They were all networking. I could hardly kick him out, could I?” The more ridiculous thought, I kept to myself. What right would I have to kick him out? We’re not even friends… Julian was silent for a moment. “Forget the TransCore deal. The margins are low anyway. I’ll find you something better.” A golden opportunity dropping from the sky was great, but I was still stuck. “Why do you care so much about Connor?” Julian and I have an arranged marriage. After a year, we’re still barely acquaintances. Our conversations revolve around meals and sleep, with the occasional update on our respective work. That’s it. This… robot-like mode even extends to our married life. We are intimate every Friday night. Three times. Exactly. In the year we’ve been married, there has not been a single exception. I’d complained about this to my best friend, Maya. She was floored, but finally just sighed, “I guess that’s just Julian for you.” Julian is a legend in our circle. Everyone grew up hearing their parents talk about him, living in his shadow. Being good at one thing is normal. Being good at everything, like him, is freakish. And on top of it, he’s hyper-disciplined and emotionally stable. It’s impossible not to admire him. I used to admire him, too. Until I married him. How is this high-spec AI my husband? The “golden boy” is definitely meant to be admired from afar. Living with him is a serious test of your sanity. The AI-husband spoke. “Why shouldn’t I care?” I clarified, “We dated, sure, but that was years ago. We broke up. I’m your wife now. There’s… nothing between us.” “I hope you mean that.” “What?” “I don’t allow flaws in my life. That includes my marriage,” he said. “I won’t have my marriage end because you cheated.” “…” So that’s what this was about. I gave him my most sincere guarantee. “I won’t.” Julian got the answer he wanted and turned, walking into the bedroom. 2 By the time I finished washing up, it was nearly midnight. I was lying in bed, half-asleep, when I heard him ask, “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” “What are the options?” “Crab and pork wontons, pan-fried beef potstickers, or strawberry pancakes.” “Potstickers,” I said. “Extra crispy this time.” “Mm.” Maybe I didn’t eat enough at the dinner, because the thought of Julian’s beef potstickers made my stomach growl. The high-spec AI was also a Michelin-star-level chef. I’ve eaten plenty of good food in my life, but Julian’s cooking was always on another level. The first time I had his crab wontons, they were so good I almost swallowed my own tongue. I swallowed. “Are the… potstickers already made?” “Yeah,” he said. “Made them tonight. While you were out drinking with Connor.” “…” I turned my head to look at him, suspicious. I had a strange thought: The Julian who mentioned Connor didn’t sound like an AI at all… If I didn’t know him better, I’d almost think he was jealous. My jealousy. But how was that possible? The robot spoke. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I pushed the ridiculous thoughts out of my head. But his little interruption meant I couldn’t possibly ask for the potstickers now. I was terrified he’d just shoot back with: Didn’t Connor feed you when you were out drinking with him? 3 I woke up late the next morning. Julian’s beef potstickers were already packed in a high-end thermos. He handed me a bottle of a freshly made kale-and-date smoothie and said a quiet, “See you.” Watching him leave, I suddenly thought that, robot or not, he did take pretty good care of me. I ate breakfast at my desk. Just as I was about to start working, my best friend Maya texted. Maya: Heard Connor Grant’s back in town! 😱 Me: Yeah, I know. Had drinks with him last night. Maya: WTF! **Maya:** SO FAST?!**Maya:**BABE! You’re a married woman! You gotta be careful seeing him!` Me: … This was my biggest headache. I hadn’t dated anyone in the years since Connor and I broke up, simply because I didn’t want to. But somehow, the rumor started that I was still hopelessly hung up on him. I tried to explain. It only made it worse. Even Maya, my best friend, thought I was just in denial. I called her directly. “I have explained this one million times. I have zero feelings for him.” “Okay, okay,” she said, not sounding convinced at all. “But you drinking with him… you better hope Julian doesn’t find out.” “…” “He already knows.” “HE WHAT?!” I was tired of talking about Connor, but I was suddenly very excited to talk about Julian’s non-AI behavior last night. I gave her the play-by-play of his strange reaction. I emphasized the part where he was so psycho he handed me divorce papers over it. “I mean, isn’t his perfectionism a little… extreme?” Maya saw it differently. “I don’t know, Chloe… sounds to me like he’s trying to keep you.” “What?” “He hands you the papers, you get scared, you back off from Connor. Makes sense.” “What if I’d actually signed them?” “Would you?” “…No.” Leaving aside the complex merger of our two family empires, on a practical level, I was not willing to divorce a catch like Julian. “The god is finally descending from Olympus!” Maya declared. Her dramatics made me roll my eyes. “It’s more like the high-spec AI is finally getting a personality patch.” “You should test him,” Maya said, her voice giddy. “See if it’s just a system glitch or if he’s actually turning human.” “How?” Her next words were loaded with suggestion. “Well, it’s Friday, isn’t it? Tonight, you two…” 4 Maya’s plan was simple. It also made me blush. All I had to do was… ask for more. His “Friday, three times” schedule was so unwavering that if I could get him to break it… well, that would prove the robot’s programming had changed, right? I hesitated. I debated. I almost chickened out. Finally, we were in bed. He leaned over me, our eyes met for a few seconds, and then he reached for the silk scarf on the nightstand, covering my eyes and tying it gently behind my head. I’d never questioned it before. I just figured it was his kink. But tonight, with a mission on my mind, I asked, “Why do you always cover my eyes?” Julian didn’t answer. He just kissed me. The wet, soft pressure on my lips pulled my thoughts away. Gradually, I forgot I was even supposed to be investigating the eye-covering thing. The world tilted and spun. He held me in his hands, lifting me high, setting me down gently, my heart constricting over and over. Finally, round three was over. Julian pulled the sweat-dampened scarf from my eyes. I was staring straight into his—calm, placid, emotionless. Even after seeing those eyes a hundred times, I still wanted to scream. How?! How, after doing…that…is he always so damn CHILL? He stroked my cheek, a placating gesture, and started to pull away— Rage and determination surged through me. I snapped my legs shut, locking them around his waist. Julian wasn’t expecting it. He toppled forward, his whole body landing heavily on mine. My hands instantly snaked around his neck. As he stared at me, completely stunned, I purred, “Can we go one more time?”

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