Category: English

My whole family could hear my six-year-old adopted sister’s thoughts. The moment the test confirmed I was in my mother’s womb, my sister, Claire, grew depressed. My family heard her inner voice, laced with sorrow: 【What do I do? Should I tell them? When they found Mom passed out in that frat house bedroom… I saw one of the frat guys running out, zipping his fly.】 When my mother heard that, she had a violent breakdown. She tried to get an abortion, but her health was too fragile for the procedure. She spent the pregnancy in a haze of self-destruction, and when I was born, we both nearly died. After my birth, Claire was terrified. For three days, she wouldn’t eat, her mind repeating the same thought over and over: 【I had a nightmare. The baby… when she grows up, she’s a sociopath. She’s going to take the company from Dad, and she’s going to throw me out of the house. She’s going to destroy us.】 And so, before I was even a month old, my parents dumped me in a state group home and never looked back. Eight years later, my mother was dying. She needed a bone marrow transplant. I begged my case worker to let me get tested. I was a perfect match. After the surgery, I pulled out my own IV and snuck down the hall to her room. I just wanted to see her. I saw her holding Claire, her face full of love. “Thank you, my Claire-bear, for saving Mommy. You’re my good girl.” Then she looked up and saw me, shrunk against the doorframe. 1 My breath caught. I looked at her, full of a desperate, stupid hope. “Mommy…?” The second our eyes met, my mother’s face went white. Her body went rigid, then began to shake. “Mommy! What’s wrong!” Claire screamed, jumping off the bed. I rushed forward, terrified. “Mom, are you—” My fingers had just brushed the sleeve of her hospital gown when a strong hand grabbed me by the back of my shirt and hauled me backward. Doctors and nurses flooded the room, pushing me out into the hallway. I looked up. A tall man stood over me, his shadow covering me completely. His eyes were dead. I didn’t dare look at him. My whole body was shaking. I twisted the hem of my thin jacket. “Dad…?” “Don’t,” he commanded. His voice was like ice. I stopped breathing. My father, Harrison Montgomery, took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and began to wipe his fingers, one by one. He was looking at me like I was something he’d scraped off his shoe. “Get her out of here,” he said to no one in particular. The door clicked shut. I crouched in the corner by the door, scrubbing my face and hands with the sleeve of my jacket, scrubbing until my skin was raw. If I was clean, maybe they would let me see her. A nurse paused on her rounds. “Are you the donor for 307? You look just like her.” She smiled. “Why aren’t you inside with your mom?” I froze. A tiny spark of joy lit up in my chest. “My dad… he said to wait out here.” I stood on my toes, peering through the small glass window in the door. She was so beautiful. My mom. Her eyes fluttered open and met mine. I was so excited. I started to wave. Her eyes widened in sheer terror. The monitor beside her bed let out a long, piercing beep. “She’s crashing! Something triggered her! Get the cart!” Harrison’s head snapped toward the window. His glare was a physical blow. He motioned to the two security guards at the end of the hall. They hauled me away. “I don’t get it,” one guard muttered. “Mr. Montgomery is usually a pretty decent guy. Why’s he so hard on a little kid?” The other guard looked at me with open disgust. “You don’t know? That’s the family’s dirty secret. The one from the incident. Mrs. Montgomery was attacked, and that… thing… was the result.” “If she hadn’t been so high-risk, they would’ve aborted it. They just threw it away instead.” I stopped struggling. I couldn’t feel the guard’s grip on my arm. So… I wasn’t his daughter. That’s why she hated me. I was the stain she couldn’t wash out. Two nurses came out of the room, carrying a balled-up hospital gown. I pulled free and ran toward them. I just wanted to ask if she was okay. “This is a limited-edition silk gown,” one nurse said, holding the gown by a single finger. “She just changed into it. Why throw it out?” “She said something dirty touched it. Said she felt disgusting.” I stopped. I looked at my own hand, the one that had brushed her sleeve. Through the window, I saw my father and Claire surrounding the bed. My mother was smiling at them. That night, back at the group home, I held the picture. It was a collage I’d made from magazines, cutting out different actresses’ features to build a face that looked like hers. I traced her paper cheek with my finger. My nose stung. She had never, not once, smiled at me. I curled up on my cot, hugging the picture to my chest, pretending it was her. The next day, I saw her again. She was waiting outside a private school, her arms open wide, smiling as Claire ran out. The look in her eyes… it was so warm. I watched from across the street, my chest aching. If she would just hug me, one time… Suddenly, she looked up, her eyes scanning the street. She saw me. And at that exact moment, Claire’s thought cut through the air: 【Should I tell Mom? That Maya’s been bullying me. She tells all the other kids I’m just the adopted trash.】 My blood ran cold. 2 My mother strode across the street, her purse clutched in her hand. My heart hammered. I fumbled with my jacket, trying to smooth it down. “Mom…” CRACK. The slap sent me stumbling back, my cheek instantly on fire. “Stay away from my daughter,” she hissed. It was the first time she had ever touched me. Her face was twisted with a disgust that was bone-deep. I just stood there, stunned, as she grabbed Claire’s hand and stalked away. Claire looked back over her shoulder, a tiny, triumphant smile on her face. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t wipe them away. It hurt. But it was her touch. Later, I thought she might come back. The sun went down. The school was empty. My mother never came. But Claire did. She brought her friends. They dragged me into the girl’s bathroom. One of them held me down while Claire used a plastic protractor from her bag to slice my cheek. “You don’t get to look like her,” she whispered, her voice a singsong. “She’s my mommy.” They went for my backpack. I clutched it, rolling onto my stomach. Inside was my collage-picture. They kicked me. In the ribs, in the stomach. I just held on, the breath knocked out of me. But they were stronger. Claire ripped the picture out. She looked at it, and her face went dark. “You’re still doing this? I tore up the last one.” “Mommy says you’re dirty. She hates you! I’m just helping her!” She grabbed my hair and shoved my head into a toilet, flushing it. “You’re so dirty, Maya! You’ll never be clean!” Wastewater filled my nose, my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. When I was limp, they threw me on the tiled floor. They tore my picture into tiny pieces and flushed it. I screamed, plunging my hands into the toilet bowl, trying to save the scraps. I only grabbed a few wet pieces. I couldn’t stop crying. After that, I only watched her from a distance. Until the day I saw the car. It was a silver sedan. It blew a red light, swerved to avoid a bus, and jumped the curb, heading right for my mother. Claire froze, her mouth open in a scream. I didn’t think. I just ran. I slammed into my mother, pushing her back against the brick wall. The car hit me. It was the first time I had ever been in her arms. “Mr. Montgomery,” his assistant said nervously, “the press is all over this. ‘Homeless Girl Sacrifices Self for Tech Heiress.’ It’s a PR nightmare. We need to control the narrative. Sir, perhaps we should… bring her home? Temporarily?” My father’s jaw was tight. He looked at his silent wife. He sighed. “Fine. For now.” Claire sat beside my mother’s hospital bed, her head bowed. And her thought came, clear as a bell. 【Maya wasn’t even hurt. I saw her. She paid that driver. It was all a setup. She staged the whole thing… just to get back in the house.】 My mother’s and father’s faces turned to stone. My father turned to the assistant. “Tell the doctors to stop all treatment.” 3 I woke up in the pool house. It was cold. A cot was set up in the corner, surrounded by dusty pool equipment. Through the sliding glass door, I could see the main house. I could see her. A maid wouldn’t let me out until my mother was gone for the day. The moment I stepped outside, a black cat darted out and hissed, raking its claws down my already-cut cheek. I screamed, falling back, shaking. The staff just watched. “Shadow! Get away from that! You’ll get sick!” Claire ran out and scooped up the cat. “Good kitty,” she cooed. “Don’t touch dirty things. It’s disgusting.” She handed the cat to a maid. “Take him inside. He needs a bath.” She shot me a look of pure hatred and walked away. “Disinfect this area,” she called over her shoulder. “And burn that cot.” I lay on the cold cement floor of the pool house, gnawing on a stale piece of bread a maid had thrown in. I didn’t care. I was here. I was close to her. I was never allowed to be seen. So I snuck out every morning and picked the most perfect, dew-covered rose from the garden and left it by her bedroom door. Then I would hide in the bushes to watch her find it. She had a piano in a glass room overlooking the garden. She looked like an angel when she played. I was lost in the music, hiding in the hydrangeas, and she suddenly looked up, right at me. She’ll be mad she saw me. I scrambled backward, tripped, and fell into the deep end of the pool. The water was ice cold. It filled my lungs. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. If I made a sound, she would find me. And I’d never get to watch her again. I woke up coughing. The gardener had pulled me out. “You crazy, kid? You were drowning! Why didn’t you make a sound?” He was a kind man. But I just clutched my shirt, terrified he’d tell. The wound on my side, from the car, was still healing. The pool water infected it. I was burning up with fever. But the next morning, I crawled out to the garden. I had to get her flower. I had just placed it on the doormat when the door opened. It was Claire. She looked at the flower, and her breath hitched. Her face turned red. She collapsed, wheezing. My mother ran out. And Claire’s thought was a siren. 【Why? She knows I’m allergic! She knows roses will kill me! I told her I wouldn’t fight her for Mom! Why is she trying to hurt me?】 My mother’s eyes turned red. She lunged at me, her hands clamping around my throat. “Why?” she screamed, squeezing. “Why are you always trying to hurt my family? You monster!” But I’m your family, too… I was blacking out. I feebly held up the second-best rose. “For… you…” She slapped it out of my hand, scooped up Claire, and ran inside, crushing the rose I’d left on the mat. I lay on the ground, gasping. My father came home early. He found me there. He grabbed me by the shirt and dragged me to the front gate, throwing me onto the street. His eyes were murderous. “If you ever come near my family again, I will kill you. Do you understand?” I was too sick to even nod. My throat was on fire. Two maids walked by, heading for their bus. “Heard that little freak tried to poison Miss Claire. Nearly killed her.” “And Mrs. Montgomery… her depression is back. She almost jumped from the balcony.” “That kid is a curse.” I couldn’t move. I just lay on the pavement, waiting to die. At dusk, Claire came out. She looked down at me. “Why aren’t you dead yet?” She smiled. “You’re so stupid. I’m not even allergic. A little Benadryl, and I’m fine. I knew Mom would flip. I got you thrown out when you were a baby, and I can do it again.” She whistled. Two Dobermans bounded out of the gate. They pinned me down, growling, their hot breath on my face. I was too terrified to even cry. Their teeth sank into my arm. My leg. I heard something snap. They were tearing at me, pulling me apart. I was going to die. I closed my eyes. And then I saw her. On the balcony of the main house. My mother. She was watching. “Mommy…” I whispered. She just stood there, her face blank. She didn’t move. She didn’t scream. She just watched. And for the first time, I felt… nothing. Mommy, why won’t you smile at me? Mommy, why won’t you hug me? Mommy… why won’t you save me?

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My mom is a doormat. My dad is a saint. By some law of cosmic balance, they produced me, a walking catastrophe. At three, I spiked the church chili with Ex-Lax and then lit an M-80 in the men’s room. At five, I stole Mrs. Henderson’s racy lingerie and tucked it into Pastor Dave’s Bible. At seven, I forged a love letter from my dad to the town widow. At ten, I took a baseball bat to the old man who offered me candy to get in his van, then hog-tied him to a tree. To protect what was left of my “reputation,” my parents fled our hometown and never looked back. Until the year I graduated college, when my uncle called. “Your branch of the family ain’t got no boys. You’re a dead end. We need to talk about who inherits your daddy’s share.” “I found a man for your girl. He’s willing to offer $50,000. I need that for my son’s wedding.” “And I need you to sign over all your property and assets to my boy. It’s his birthright.” “Do as I say, and there’ll be a spot for you in the family cemetery.” Oh? We have a family cemetery? You should have said so. I’ve never dug one of those up before. 1 My dad, Frank, is the most famously “agreeable” man in the county. When my grandparents died, my Uncle Burt said that as the eldest, he should get the family house. My dad said, “That makes sense,” and moved into a tool shed on the edge of the property. Five years later, the county seized that plot for a new highway. The payout was $100,000. Uncle Burt said, “I’ve got three boys, Frank. You’ve just got the one girl. To keep the family name going, you gotta help your nephews out.” My dad said, “That makes sense,” and handed over $99,000. Three years after that, my dad married my mom, Linda. He asked Burt for a little of the money back. Burt just sneered. “Ask for what? That was a gift, you fool. You don’t ask for a gift back.” My mom is a world-class pushover. Her life motto is, “Oh, well. It’s fine. Everyone’s just doing their best.” If you push her, she retreats. If you yell, she flinches. Two pushovers, stacked on top of each other, make one giant target. They endured Burt’s exploitation until they finally couldn’t take it anymore and moved to the city. If you can’t beat ’em, run away. And then, as if by cosmic joke, they had me. All the anger they swallowed their whole lives, I was born to spit back out. At three, our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, yelled at my mom for “being as useful as a screen door on a submarine.” I waited until Mrs. Gable was in her outhouse, lit a pack of Black Cats, and tossed them in. The explosion was… memorable. At five, my dad walked past Mrs. Henderson’s porch and didn’t look at her, so she told the whole town he was “undressing her with his eyes.” I stole her leopard-print bra from the clothesline and put it under the pillow of Mr. Miller, whose wife was famously jealous. Mrs. Miller’s screams were heard three blocks away. Mrs. Henderson had to get stitches from the nail marks. At ten, the man on the corner offered me candy to “see what was under my shirt.” I waited until he turned around, hit him with a rock, and when he was down, I tied him to a tree and cut his arm with a box cutter “to let the bad blood out.” He woke up freezing and screaming, offering me his life savings to let him down. I took it, and my parents used it as a down payment on our house in the city. After that, my reputation as a hell-raiser eclipsed their reputation as pushovers. Life was normal. Until my uncle’s phone call. 2 The first day back home. We hadn’t even gotten our bags out of the car before Uncle Burt shoved three burlap sacks at us. “It’s corn season. Get to shuckin’.” My parents just looked at each other, took the sacks, and followed him to the field. It was 100 degrees, high noon. My parents disappeared into the corn rows while Burt and my Aunt Mavis sat in the shade, “supervising.” “Twenty years in the city, you forgot how to work!” Burt yelled. “Watch the ears, Frank! You break one, I’ll break your arm!” “Linda, you eatin’ at all? You’re slow as molasses!” When a neighbor walked by, Burt’s tone changed instantly. “Hey, Jim! My brother’s just such a hard worker, you know? Just got here and insisted on helping. Can’t stop him!” “Frank, buddy, take a water break! It’s hot!” As he said it, Burt “accidentally” kicked the water jug. It rolled into the dirt, spilling most of the water. “Oh, clumsy me!” Mavis chirped. “Well, no sense in wasting what’s left. Dirt don’t hurt! Drink up, Linda!” She picked up the muddy jug and tried to shove it at my mom. I shot forward, grabbed her wrist, and twisted. The jug came free. And, “oops,” it tipped over, pouring a cascade of muddy water right over Mavis’s head. “Aunt Mavis,” I said, my smile not reaching my eyes, “that’s enough.” “Why you little…!” She sputtered, looking around for a stick. My mom grabbed me. “Mavis, she’s just a kid, don’t mind her!” “A kid? She’s 22!” Mavis was ready to throw a rock. I picked up a large, flat stone. “Here, Auntie. Use this one. It’s bigger.” She reached for it. With a sharp crack, I snapped the stone in half with my bare hands. “You take a piece, I’ll take a piece,” I said, grinning. “Let’s see who’s still standing.” Mavis froze. 3 She scurried back to Burt. “That girl… she’s feral,” she whispered. “What?” “She just… she broke a cinder block. With her bare hands!” Burt squinted at me. I gave him a big, friendly wave. “It was a fluke,” he sneered. “Those two marshmallows couldn’t raise a wolf.” “You just watch yourself. The buyer is coming tomorrow. If he likes her, that’s $50,000 for us!” “I know, I know.” It was getting late. Mavis told my mom to go home and make dinner. “I’ll help!” I chirped. Mavis actually flinched. “No! You… you stay and help your father.” I watched them walk away. The field was empty except for Burt, my dad… and me. My smile faded. Five hours. In five hours, my “family” had insulted my parents 35 times and threatened them six. I finally understood why they never wanted to come back. They weren’t just relatives. They were parasites. Well, time to do some pest control. I grabbed a shovel and walked over to two small, grassy mounds at the edge of the field. “Uncle Burt, whose graves are these?” He puffed out his chest. “Your grandpa and grandma’s.” Ah. The ones who let this all happen. “Tsk. They must be so bored, stuck here for decades. Don’t worry, Grandma! I’m here! I’ll take you on a trip!” The shovel hit the dirt. I was digging fast. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Burt roared, scrambling to stop me. 4 I was too fast. He’d charge, I’d dodge, then run to the other grave and start digging. He was old and slow; I was a seasoned expert at chaos. In ten minutes, he was wheezing, and both graves were leveled. “That’s the family plot! That’s our heritage!” he screamed. Your heritage, I thought. I don’t care. I dropped the shovel and gathered a huge pile of dry corn stalks. “Don’t worry, Uncle, I’ll fix it! They say when a grave ‘smokes,’ it’s a sign of good fortune!” I flicked my lighter. The dry stalks went up in a whoosh of fire. “Look, Uncle! They’re on fire! This is way better than smoke! You’re about to get so lucky!” Burt’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he fainted. He landed, with a sickening thunk, right on the broken cinder block I’d left behind. “Sarah, run!” my dad whispered, terrified. “I’ll say I did it!” I just brushed the dirt off my hands. “Run? The game just started. I haven’t even said hi to Aunt Mavis.” “Your uncle…” “He’ll be fine. A little heatstroke never killed anyone.”

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Five years after my suicide, Jovan Thorne got himself a new canary. Everyone said she was a lot like me, from her looks to her personality. I disagreed. I would never tie Jovan’s tie. I certainly wouldn’t celebrate his birthday. The only thing I ever did was find new and inventive ways to make his life hell. His misery was my happiness. 1 Everyone in Atheria City’s glittering, debauched social circle knew that Jovan Thorne despised me. It was because my mother, before she moved into the Thorne family mansion, was a masseuse at an exclusive spa. His mother, on the other hand, was the heiress to the Lancaster Group. He was born into a world of privilege and power, draped in silk and accolades. We were worlds apart. From the moment he first laid eyes on me, he wanted me gone, ground into the dirt. I couldn’t change the affairs of our parents, but I didn’t owe him a damn thing. So, I made it my mission to antagonize him at every turn. He was never good with words, always losing our verbal spars, and his precious gentleman’s code kept him from getting physical. All he could do was storm off, jaw clenched tight. While we were busy tearing each other apart, our parents slowly faded from the world, one after the other. And just like that, my last shield was gone. Jovan finally dropped the mask. Whenever I pissed him off, he’d lock me in the darkness of the old cellar. But a kid who grew up on the streets isn’t afraid of the dark. I’d scream insults at him through the heavy oak door, hurling every vile word I knew. One night, I must have truly broken him. He threw the door open, pinned me against the cold stone, and the sound of my white dress tearing ripped through the silence. I dragged myself up from the floor and slapped him across the face, the sound sharp and final. He seized my wrist, his eyes burning with a vicious fire. “You’re just like your mother,” he hissed. “A cheap whore.” I didn’t cry. My face was a blank canvas. I stood tall, looking down on him. “And you think you’re so noble, Jovan? You’re just a bastard. A filthy little secret.” I spat on the floor near his expensive shoes. Jovan wasn’t a true Thorne. He was the product of his mother’s affair. He had no idea how I knew, and the rage that flooded his face was terrifying. His eyes went bloodshot as his hands closed around my throat. “Say that again,” he growled, his voice dangerously low. “I’ll kill you.” Air became a luxury. My vision started to swim in black spots. But I wasn’t afraid. A part of me hoped he wouldn’t let go. The veins on my neck pulsed, a stark contrast to my pale skin. A smirk played on my lips, sharp and defiant. “Bas…tard…” The sounds of a struggle—thudding bodies, muffled groans—echoed from behind the door. The housekeeper and the staff were used to it. No one ever interfered. Only when the moon was high in the sky did Jovan finally shove me away and slam the door, leaving me in the suffocating silence. I licked my lips, the coppery tang of his blood a small victory. Once again, I pulled myself to my feet and walked barefoot back to my room. The housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, was waiting for me. She was in her fifties, with a kind face that was utterly wasted on her. Her loyalty belonged to Jovan. She handed me a pill and a glass of water. Without a second glance, I tossed it into my mouth and swallowed it dry. A flicker of something crossed her eyes before she turned and walked away, the untouched water still in her hand. The next evening was the Thorne Corporation’s annual gala. Jovan and I were both required to attend. My body ached all over. I’d slept the entire day and still felt like I’d been run over. Jovan never knocked. He kicked my door open, leaning against the frame with his hands shoved in his pockets. “If you don’t want me to start making trouble for your little friends, you’ll be downstairs in thirty minutes.” I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “Get out.” He dodged it easily. “Twenty-nine minutes,” he said, his voice flat. 2 In the end, I got in the car with him. The Thorne Corporation was a titan in Atheria, with its fingers in tourism, education, real estate—you name it. Jovan was a brilliant, ruthless businessman who knew how to command loyalty. As the primary heir, he’d been groomed for power, stepping in as Vice President while his father was still alive and sliding seamlessly into the CEO position. Tonight’s event was to launch their new entertainment company. We entered the venue separately, a silent agreement. Jovan was on stage, playing the part of the perfect gentleman in his tailored black suit and gold-rimmed glasses. The crowd below, a sea of glamorous celebrities and fawning socialites, watched him with pure adoration. It made me sick. I rolled my eyes and slipped out the back. The gala was held at a sprawling estate, rumored to have a private menagerie of exotic animals. I wandered for a while but couldn’t find it. “Miss Vance? Are you lost?” I looked up. A man in a dark green suit was watching me with curious eyes. He was pale, almost ethereal in the moonlight. I raised an eyebrow, a slow, playful smile spreading across my face. “You know who I am?” “Jovan Thorne’s sister? I don’t think there’s a soul in Atheria who doesn’t.” “Are you married?” I asked, cutting straight to the point. He blinked, clearly flustered. “No.” I crossed my arms and sauntered over to him, my gaze direct and sincere. “Marry me. Become Mr. Thorne’s brother-in-law. So, what do you say?” His face flushed a brilliant crimson. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. This guy was actually trying to play innocent. Sure, Jovan hated my guts, but the line of men willing to marry into the Thorne family, even through me, was endless. After all, I was his sister, and a minor shareholder in the company. I reached out and brushed my fingers against his hot cheek. “We could be at the courthouse tomorrow morning. And I could move in with you.” “Aya!” Speak of the devil. Jovan’s voice cut through the air like a whip. His security guard materialized and politely escorted the man in green away. Jovan stared at me, his face a mask of disgust. “Are you that desperate? That was Donovan, the family disappointment. A spineless coward. You’d really stoop that low?” I didn’t bother to answer, turning to leave. He grabbed my arm, yanking me back so hard I stumbled. I ripped my arm from his grasp, glaring. Then, a wicked smile bloomed on my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my eyes locking with his. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Jovan?” He was furious. Again. His fingers clamped down on my jaw, the pressure immense. For a second, I thought the bone might crack. “Slut.” It was his favorite word for me. I was getting tired of it. That night, he locked me in the cellar again. In the pitch black, he couldn’t see the bleak emptiness in my eyes, or the way my spirit was slowly breaking. I left several deep bite marks on his shoulder. They must have hurt, because the next day, he could barely lift his arm. That made me happy. I grabbed my purse, ready for a day out. It’s a small world. I ran into Donovan, the “spineless coward,” at a high-end lounge. He had a young woman cornered in his booth, forcing drink after drink on her. She looked like a good kid, innocent, not one of us. I strolled over and sat down, beaming at him. “Honey, I thought we were getting our marriage license today. Why didn’t you show up?” The entire lounge went silent. Donovan dropped his glass, which shattered on the floor like a thousand tiny stars. The girl beside him stammered, “Miss Vance, you… you and him…?” I nodded graciously. “We’re engaged! You should all come to the wedding. You too, sweetie,” I said, winking at her. The girl fled. I later found out she was a 19-year-old student Donovan had lured from her university. When I heard, I made a call. He spent the next month in a hospital bed. When Jovan found out, he looked at me, his expression unreadable. “You even beat up your own fiancé?” “What’s it to you? Jealous? You want a beating too?” He seethed, calling me a whore again. I picked up my glass of water and threw it in his face. “My mother was married to your father, legally and properly. Do you understand me? Say it again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.” 3 The Thorne’s new entertainment company had a rising star. An actor in his early twenties. I couldn’t remember his name, but he was handsome. My friend mentioned he had a passing resemblance to me. I nearly choked on my coffee. “That’s great. Now that you’ve said that, you’ve probably just jinxed his entire career.” “Are you and Jovan still at each other’s throats?” “When have fire and water ever gotten along?” I shot back. She sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. That night, Mrs. Gable informed me that Jovan wouldn’t be home for dinner. I was so delighted I ate two huge bowls of rice before floating upstairs. In the dead of night, I felt a presence by my bed. Jovan. The stench of alcohol rolled off him in waves. I pulled the covers tighter around me and told him to get lost. A moment of silence passed. When I glanced over, he was actually gone. Strange. He’d actually listened for once. The next morning, Mrs. Gable told me Jovan was sick with a high fever. I was meticulously painting my nails. “He’s sick? Call a doctor. What’s the point of telling me? I’m not a miracle worker.” His life or death was no concern of mine. I went out to have fun, same as always. He came back from the hospital a week later. They say illness makes you look frail, but not him. He looked as healthy as ever, his eyes just as cold. He found me painting and sneered. “There isn’t an artistic bone in your body. Don’t pretend to be cultured. It’s a waste of time.” “You’re right,” I said without looking up. “I am wasting time. It’s a shame the bars aren’t open during the day.” “You go to bars often?” Now it was my turn to sneer. I put down my brush and turned to him. “Don’t you have people following me 24/7? How could you not know I go to bars? Your employees are slipping. You should fire them.” He was holding a coffee cup. With his free hand, he pulled out his phone and did just that. Satisfied, I went back to my painting. That night, I put on a scandalously short dress and went to the grimiest, most chaotic bar I could find—a place where drugs, gambling, and prostitution were all on the menu. I picked the most conspicuous table and sat down. It didn’t take long for a guy with bleached-blond hair to approach. His fashion sense was a train wreck, but I didn’t care. We drank, glass after glass. Soon, the world was spinning, and I was leaning into him. He was ecstatic, fumbling with a wad of crumpled bills to pay the tab as he wrapped an arm around me. He led me out the back, into a dark, narrow alley. My heels kept slipping on the slick pavement. I stumbled several times, and each time he roughly pulled me back up. “Hey, handsome,” I slurred. “Where are we going?” “To the after-party, of course.” I giggled stupidly. “After-party! Yes! I love after-parties!” He pushed me against a grimy brick wall. My vision blurred as I looked up at him. He started fumbling with his clothes, but the cheap zipper on his jacket was stuck. Frustrated, he just ripped it open. I let out a soft “Oh,” feigning sympathy. “Your jacket is broken.” “You’re more important than a jacket!” he grunted, lunging at me. I stared up at the single, flickering streetlamp overhead, my heart a placid lake. Suddenly, the weight on top of me vanished. I glanced to the side. What a shame. Jovan strode into the alley, his face a thundercloud. His men were already dragging the unconscious blond away. I remained on the ground, looking up at him. “Always the hero, aren’t you, Mr. Thorne? Ruining everyone’s fun.” My self-destructive performance sent him into a rage. He yanked me to my feet, and I fought back, kicking and scratching. “Let go of me! I said let go, you bastard!” My hair was a mess, and the strap of my dress had snapped, exposing my shoulder. Jovan ripped off his suit jacket and threw it over me, his eyes sharp as shards of glass. “You’re a Thorne, Aya. Stop acting like your mother!” CRACK! “Jovan, haven’t I told you? You don’t talk about my mother!” I’d put all my strength into that slap. His head snapped to the side. He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, then, to my horror, he smiled. His hand came back, fast and hard. The force of his slap sent me staggering backward. I crashed into a row of overflowing trash cans before crumpling to the ground. What the hell did this bastard eat? The force of it left me stunned, unable to get up. 4 When I woke up, I was in a hospital. A nurse told me I’d been unconscious for three days. No wonder I was starving. Jovan walked in, dark circles under his eyes, looking worn out for the first time I could remember. The sight of him filled me with irritation. I turned my head away, refusing to look at him. I was the patient now; I wouldn’t win a fight. He stood by the bed, his gaze fixed on my back. “You did this on purpose.” Silence. “Aya, did you do this on purpose? Answer me!” Still silence. “If you don’t say something, I’ll have your mother’s ashes dug up and scattered to the wind.” I shot up in bed, my finger pointing straight at his nose, a torrent of curses erupting from my lips—soulless, inhuman, worse than an animal. He didn’t react, just repeated the question. “Was it on purpose?” What the hell was he talking about? “You’re pregnant,” he said, his voice flat. “Two months.” I wasn’t surprised at all. “Oh, you found out?” I said, my voice deceptively calm. “You must be thrilled. You’re going to be an uncle.” His expression was strained, his tone laced with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” I scoffed, then lay back down, pulling the covers up as if settling in for a long rest. Jovan sat on the sofa across the room, his voice as cold as ice. “I’ve fired the entire staff. A new team is coming in. From now on, you’ll stay here and rest. You are not to leave this house.” I sat up again, staring at him, fighting the urge to scream. “Are you insane? Who are you to make decisions for me? You really think you’re the uncle?” “You know exactly who I am to this child,” he said, his gaze deep and unwavering, but still filled with that familiar contempt. Jovan himself came to pick me up from the hospital. When he tried to open the car door for me, I shoved his hand away and got in on the other side. When we arrived at the mansion, it was just as he’d said. Not a single familiar face remained, not even Mrs. Gable. He’d also posted several bodyguards around the property. I cursed him endlessly. He was treating me like a prisoner. Time crawled by. The actress who looked like me officially announced she was dating Jovan. I watched her smiling face on the television and felt a pang of pity for her. That bastard didn’t deserve anyone. Soon after, Jovan had to relocate overseas for an extended period to deal with issues at a foreign branch. I practically danced with joy. One night, unable to sleep, I wrapped a coat around my shoulders and went into the garden to look at the stars. The ground was slick with dew. My foot slipped, and just as I braced myself to fall onto the soft grass, a gust of wind rushed past my ear. A strong arm caught me, holding me steady. In the darkness, his eyes shone brightly. He looked young, almost boyish. I pulled my coat tighter and studied him. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you during the day.” “Miss Vance. My name is Liam. I’m on the night shift.” I was genuinely surprised. The bodyguards had shifts? Did the night shift pay better? Liam shook his head, his expression earnest. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure.” He was much more interesting than the daytime guards, who walked around with permanent scowls as if I owed them money. At least Liam could hold a conversation. From then on, I often sought him out to talk. One evening, while we were chatting, Jovan’s call came through. He’d threatened me with my mother again, forcing me to answer. I pressed the button, fighting back a wave of nausea. Jovan’s voice was tight with suppressed rage. “I’ve figured it out. You weren’t taking the pills, were you?” I instinctively didn’t want Liam to hear this, so I stood up and walked a little further away. “What pills? I’m perfectly healthy.” “Aya! You know what I’m talking about.” I looked up at the moon. It was so bright, just like the first night I’d ever spent in this mansion. A small smile touched my lips. “You’re only figuring this out now, Jovan? Isn’t it a little late?” He must have been livid. He was the one who pulled the strings, not the other way around. “Let’s make a deal,” I proposed. “You let me go, and I’ll disappear from your life forever. You can go back to being Atheria’s golden boy.” “And if I say no?” “Then I’m sure there are plenty of media outlets that would be very interested in Mr. Thorne’s private life.” “You really are a bitch, Aya.” 5 A bitch? I just wanted to be free. Was my mother a whore? She was just trying to survive. I was only seven when my mother was still a masseuse. Her life wasn’t pristine, but she earned her living with her own two hands. Jovan’s father saw her, claimed she looked just like his first love, and dragged her into the Thorne mansion, whether she wanted it or not. When my own father came looking for me, he died in a car crash on his way home. Suddenly, I was an orphan, lost on the streets without a mother or a father. It was only then that my mother agreed to all of Jovan’s father’s demands, on one condition: that they bring me to the mansion. He was so happy he sent his men to find me that very day. I lay back in the garden’s rocking chair, searching for my parents among the stars. The night air was cold. So cold it brought tears to my eyes. Liam stood nearby, silent. He handed me a handkerchief. I looked at it and let out a small laugh. Who even used handkerchiefs anymore? I took it and wiped my tears away. Then I remembered—my mother used to love them. She said they were convenient and clean. I looked up at Liam. He was still standing at attention, not looking at me, his face still holding that boyish innocence. A month after Jovan left, the new housekeeper took me to the hospital for a check-up. I insisted Liam come with us. He hesitated, clearly worried about breaking protocol. I rolled my eyes at him. “Dude, I’m the one you’re guarding. Do you listen to me or a schedule?” He thought for a moment, then got in the car. Honestly, I’d never met someone so straight-laced. The check-up went fine. While we were there, a friend called and invited me out. I lied and said I was out of the country. She yelled at me for not inviting her along. I didn’t know how to explain, so I just hung up. It had been so long since I’d been out. The world outside seemed to have gotten even more vibrant. A new coffee shop had opened next to the hospital. Ignoring the housekeeper’s protests, I decided I needed a cup. As fate would have it, Jovan’s actress girlfriend was there. She recognized me immediately and greeted me with a wide, bright smile. “Miss Vance! What a surprise to see you here.” I was thin, and my clothes were loose, so my pregnancy wasn’t obvious. I gave her a curt nod, wanting nothing to do with her. She seemed oblivious to my coldness and followed me. Liam stepped between us, and she looked at me with a confused, almost pitiful expression. “Miss Vance, could I just have a word with you?” With a sigh, I let her sit down. She was a chatterbox. Her endless stream of words made my head spin. I escaped to the restroom for a moment of peace. When I returned, she looked embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Miss Vance. I talk way too much, don’t I?” I shook my head politely. Her face was a little pale, and she seemed nervous. “I was worried you’d find me annoying.” I drained my coffee in one gulp and stood up to leave. The moment I got back in the car, a dull ache started in my lower abdomen. At first, it was just a throb, but then it intensified, feeling like a heavy weight was pressing down, pulling my entire body toward the ground. The pain was excruciating. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “Liam…” I whispered. No response. Of course. He was a bodyguard. He wouldn’t be in the main cabin with me. A soundproof partition separated me from the driver. I curled into a ball on the leather seat, then tumbled onto the floor. My hands clutched my stomach, trembling so violently I couldn’t form a single word. Then I felt something warm and sticky seeping out from under me. I reached down. Blood. So much blood. I never knew a person could bleed this much. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep bleeding before… before I died. Maybe it was for the best. I’d been tired of living for a long time anyway.

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At seventeen, Alex Thorne and I discovered we were living in a romance novel. He was the hero. I was just a background character. Alex tore the book to shreds, furious. “I don’t give a damn about being the hero! And I will never love anyone else!” At twenty-two, just as the book predicted, I had to leave the country. Alex stroked my hair, promising, “When you come back, we’ll get married.” At twenty-seven, I returned. To attend Alex’s wedding to the female lead. 01 The ceremony was in an hour. I stood in the hotel lobby, staring at the welcome sign. “Groom: Alex Thorne; Bride: Autumn Chi.” It felt like I was seventeen all over again, pulling an unmarked book from a library shelf, only to see the cover: “Hero: Alex Thorne; Heroine: Autumn Chi.” It was a Pandora’s box. I was terrified to look inside. “What’cha looking at?” The seventeen-year-old Alex appeared, leaning over my shoulder, his chin hovering just above it. “What idiot is using my name to write a novel?” He took the book and started flipping through it, muttering the whole time. “What kind of stupid name is Autumn? The person I like is named Cora.” “Cora… where’s my Cora…” His voice got quieter as he read, until his face was pale. The book, starting from when Alex was twenty-two, told the story of his epic romance with the heroine. Everything in it, aside from the future parts, was a perfect match for our reality. And his Cora… was just a name in a flashback. “I don’t give a damn about being the hero! And I will never love anyone else!” Alex’s eyes were red. He ripped the book apart with trembling hands. “Cora, don’t believe it. That person… it’s not me.” I couldn’t say anything. Seventeen-year-old Alex held me, his voice choked with sobs and anger. “I hate the fall.” “Cora, from now on, I hate autumn.” … The boy’s pained voice faded, replaced by the lobby’s bustle. I came back to myself. Sunlight was streaming onto my shoulder. I looked out the window. Of course. It’s autumn. 02 “An autumn wedding. It’s too hot for this.” An older woman fanned herself as she walked into the hotel, complaining to her friend. “And did you see the date? It’s not exactly a lucky day. What was the Thorne family thinking…?” “It’s just Alex being in a hurry to get married. I heard he proposed five times before she finally said yes!” Her companion looked proud to have the gossip. “The Thornes have had this wedding planned for years. The moment she agreed, they put it together in a week.” “Wow. He must really be in love with that Autumn girl…” Their voices faded down the hall. I couldn’t help but remember. How much did the Alex in the book love Autumn? Enough to start planning their wedding six months after meeting her. Enough that, even though the love was mutual, he was so scared of losing her that he spent five years carefully maneuvering his way into her life. He was never a patient person. He was all impulse and swagger. He loved her so much… he completely forgot… Seventeen, picking up a shredded piece of the book. On a blank corner, he had childishly scribbled: “I, Alex Thorne, hereby warn all authors: 1. Alex does not want to be the hero. 2. The only person Alex loves is named Cora Lin. 3. … ” “This is not subject to change. Alex will only ever, ever love Cora!” … “Mommy, what does that say?” A little girl was pointing at the welcome sign. I followed her finger to the elegant script at the bottom: “We invite you to witness the ceremony that marks our lifelong decision. — Alex & Autumn” 03 Fifteen minutes had passed. I was still standing there, unable to take that first step. “Cora.” A familiar voice behind me. I turned, and my arm was instantly grabbed. “It really is you… Cora, you’re finally back.” I was pulled into a fragile, familiar hug. A choked sob sounded in my ear. My throat burned. “Mrs. Thorne…” Alex’s mother let out a small, broken sound, then quickly covered her mouth. “It’s… it’s my fault, Cora. I’m so sorry…” After graduation, at Alex’s 18th birthday party. He’d invited me to his house. We walked in the door and ran right into his mother. “Mom, I’d like you to meet your future daughter-in-law, Cora Lin.” Alex slung his arm around my shoulder, proud and confident. “Cora, this is our mom, your future mother-in… oomph!” I’d stood on my toes to cover his mouth, just as his mother rapped him on the forehead. Amidst Alex’s yelp of pain, we all froze for a second, then looked at each other and laughed. That was the first time I met her. It set the tone for every visit after: Alex causing chaos, me trying to contain him, and his mother cleaning up the mess. And in the end, we were always laughing. On my 20th birthday, she gave me the Thorne family locket. She’d promised me, her voice firm: “Cora, if Alex ever does you wrong, I’m kicking him out of this house and disowning him.” Now, she was telling me she was sorry. I hugged her back, patting her shoulder. All I could say was a thin echo of her own words: “It’s not your fault, Mrs. Thorne.” 04 She pulled away first. “Cora, this isn’t the place to catch up.” She quickly wiped her eyes, regaining her composure. “It’s hot out here. Come in, please. Sit down.” I let her lead me by the hand, and before I knew it, I was inside the ballroom. We only took two steps before she stopped, her voice suddenly tense. “Cora… don’t misunderstand…” I looked up, confused, and saw the wedding decor. Golden ears of wheat and bright sunflowers were mixed with flowers in every shade of autumn, creating a romantic, rustic field. Scarecrows stood guard. Baskets of fruit and vegetables were artfully arranged. A crescent moon hung over the stage. It was like a Van Gogh painting. It was like walking out of autumn and straight into… autumn. I stopped breathing. “Cora, please, the timing was just too tight. This was a design Alex commissioned years ago, we didn’t have time to change it…” I gripped her hand, cutting her off. “Mrs. Thorne, where is Alex right now?” “Cora…” I stared at the stage. At the very tip of the crescent moon, a single, perfect ear of wheat was placed. Maybe a grain of wheat fell from God’s hand and the wind just blew it there? Clutching that impossible hope, I asked again. “Where is he?” She was silent. Finally, she sighed. “He and Autumn are taking photos… They’re in room 1019.” I turned and ran. As the noise and colors blurred past me, I had the strangest feeling. My seventeen-year-old Alex was waiting for me.

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At twelve o’clock, I’d just pulled out my thermal lunch container when my colleague Brenda sidled up to my desk—empty bowl in hand, a wide predatory smile on her face. “Anya, your lunch smells amazing. You’ll share half, right?” I smiled politely and shook my head. “Sorry Brenda, this is all I have. If I give you half, I’ll be starving by three.” I thought it was a crass joke and she’d drop it. I was wrong. She pulled up a chair, sat across from me, dead serious. “How about this?” she leaned forward, conspiratorial. “I’ll transfer you five dollars a month, and you give me half your lunch daily. Deal?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “You’re young—eating less helps keep your figure. Win-win.” Her bizarre logic left me speechless. I stared at my food, hoping she’d take the hint. Instead, her chopsticks shot out like a snake’s tongue, snagging the largest piece of sweet-and-sour pork from my container. “C’mon Anya, don’t stay silent. You’re already cooking for one—adding a bit more won’t cost much. I’ll even give you cooking feedback. Five bucks buys a couple pounds of kale, and you get on my good side. Total bargain!” … Before I could even form a response, the prize piece of my lunch had vanished into her mouth. She chewed with a theatrical slowness, swallowed with a sigh of satisfaction, and even dabbed her lips with a napkin before speaking again. “Delicious. A little salty, though. Try half a spoonful less soy sauce next time. So, it’s settled. I’ll send you the five dollars at the end of the month.” With that, she pushed her empty bowl across my desk, expecting me to fill it. A bitter laugh escaped me. The fire in my gut flared, but my face remained a placid mask. “Brenda,” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Was the pork good?” She seemed taken aback that I dared to speak. For a second, she faltered, then plastered on that condescending, world-weary smile of hers. “Oh, relax, sweetie. It’s just one piece of meat. You didn’t think I’d actually eat it for free, did you?” “Oh? So you’re offering to pay? Excellent.” I nodded as if this was exactly what I’d been waiting for. Without another word, I picked up my phone, opened my messaging app, and sent a quick voice note to Mrs. Davis, my family’s private chef. I made sure to put it on speaker. “Mrs. Davis, could you please send me the digital receipt for today’s lunch? Yes, right now would be great. Thank you.” The air in our section of the office went still. Brenda’s smile began to look a little strained. Less than ten seconds later, my phone buzzed. I opened the image and shoved the screen right in Brenda’s face, tapping my finger on the grand total at the top. I watched, with immense satisfaction, as her expression shifted from smug amusement to confusion, and finally, to pure, unadulterated shock. The color drained from her face, her lips starting to tremble. “See it clearly, Brenda?” I pulled the phone back, my voice slow and deliberate. “The ingredients alone for my lunch today cost fifty-two dollars and eighty cents.” I looked at her ashen face, my tone one of sincere concern. “You can’t just eat one piece of meat a day, can you? You said you wanted half. Half would be twenty-six dollars and forty cents. We’ll say twenty-two workdays a month… that comes out to a mere five hundred eighty dollars and eighty cents. A little more than the five dollars you offered. By about five hundred and seventy-five dollars.” A choked snort of laughter erupted from a junior colleague in the corner. Brenda’s face turned a shade of crimson so deep it was almost purple. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. I ignored her, serenely picking up my chopsticks and selecting a glistening, translucent shrimp, which I popped into my mouth. Let’s see you try to grift my lunch again. Just then, my phone screen lit up with another message from Mrs. Davis. “Miss, for tomorrow’s lunch, would you prefer the A5 Wagyu with black truffle or the Lobster Thermidor?” My eyes still downcast, I typed back my reply. “Both. One of each.” The atmosphere in the office the next day was thick with something toxic. Colleagues who usually nodded hello now either stared right through me or quickly averted their gaze. It was painfully obvious. Brenda, smarting from her public humiliation, had no doubt spent the evening poisoning the well in every company group chat. She herself was in early, head buried in her work the moment I walked in. The back of her head radiated pure venom. I couldn’t have cared less. At three o’clock, our department’s sacred afternoon tea time, Brenda’s demeanor changed entirely. She sprang to her feet, beaming, phone in hand. “Bubble tea, everyone! My treat!” she announced, her voice loud enough to carry across the entire floor. “Think of it as my apology for yesterday’s little… misunderstanding.” She made a grand show of taking orders, going desk by desk, pointedly skipping mine as if I were invisible. Someone finally whispered, “Brenda, you haven’t asked Anya yet.” “Oh!” Brenda slapped her forehead with theatrical dismay. “Silly me! Of course. But someone who eats such gourmet lunches wouldn’t be interested in our cheap ten-dollar bubble tea, would she? I wouldn’t dare ask, what if she makes me send her the receipt?” A wave of muffled, cruel laughter rippled through the office. They were ganging up to isolate me. I didn’t even look up, the rhythmic click of my keyboard the only response I gave them. During my lunch break, I set out the two containers Mrs. Davis had prepared: one with A5 Wagyu and shaved black truffle, the other with a golden-crusted Lobster Thermidor. Just as I lifted the lids, my phone buzzed. A notification popped up: Brenda Smith has invited you to the group chat “The Loving Lunchtime Support Group.” I raised an eyebrow. The moment I joined, a message from Brenda tagged me. “@AnyaLin, welcome, welcome! The department’s lunch club is officially open! After a unanimous vote, we’ve all agreed that since you bring the best food, you’ll be in charge of our main course every day! The rest of us can just bring, you know, a fruit salad or something. What do you think?” The chat immediately flooded with messages of “Great idea!” and “I support Brenda!” I stared at the message, a wry smile touching my lips. Apparently, yesterday’s public shaming wasn’t enough for her. She was serving her face up for another slap. I simply tapped the corner of the screen and left the group chat. Let someone else be the fool. It was a blatant attempt to leech off me. A second later, I saw a new notification pop up on the phone of the colleague next to me, who I was on decent terms with. It was a screenshot of the “Anya Lin has left the group” notification. Beneath it, Brenda had posted a dramatic message: “Sigh. Young people these days have absolutely no sense of team spirit. Oh well, let’s just eat by ourselves and not bother Her Majesty.” I lifted a piece of Wagyu to my lips. It was tender, practically melting on my tongue. As I was about to dive into the lobster, my neighbor slid her phone over to me, giving me a pointed look. It was a link to the company’s internal, anonymous message board. I clicked on it. A bright red, pinned post title stabbed me in the eyes. EXPOSED: The Million-Dollar Lunch Queen in Our Department, a Selfish Hypocrite Hiding in Plain Sight. “The Million-Dollar Lunch Queen.” I had to admit, it was catchy. The post was even more vicious than I’d anticipated. The author, affecting an objective tone dripping with envy, painted me as a spoiled rich girl who’d parachuted into the company and looked down on everyone. “Her lunch every day costs more than what we spend on groceries in a week. When we asked her to help with a main dish for a group lunch, she just left the chat…” “Yesterday she humiliated a senior colleague in front of everyone with some fake receipt, showing no decency or respect…” “This kind of person is dangerously manipulative. Who knows what she’s really doing at a small company like ours. Ladies, stay far away from her…” There were already hundreds of replies. “I know who this is. Anya Lin. Always acts so high and mighty.” “OMG, how terrifying. She’s the definition of a textbook narcissist.” “Poor Brenda, getting bullied by a newbie like that.” I scrolled through the venomous comments, my face impassive, my heart a steady, cold drum. Brenda’s revenge had come faster than I’d expected. At two p.m., the director’s assistant tapped on my desk. “Anya, Mr. Williams wants to see you in his office.” As I stood up, every eye in the office turned to me, hungry for drama. A tiny, triumphant smirk was already playing on Brenda’s lips. I walked into the director’s office. Mr. Williams was rubbing his temples, his face a mask of exhaustion and annoyance. He didn’t offer me a seat. “Anya,” he began, his tone sharp. “You’ve been with us for a little while now. How are you finding it?” I remained silent. He slammed his thermos down on the desk with a heavy thud. “I saw the post on the forum.” He looked up, his eyes filled with accusation. “Anya, you know the saying, ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ Out of everyone in this department, why are they writing about you? Have you stopped to think about what you might be doing wrong?” His logic was so twisted I almost laughed. “It takes two to tango! If you had a better relationship with your colleagues, none of this would have happened! Now the entire department is a laughingstock in the company!” “Go apologize to Brenda. Be the bigger person,” he ordered, delivering his final verdict. “Get her to take the post down, and we’ll consider this matter closed. The company does not tolerate internal conflict.” I looked at his face, a perfect portrait of a man desperate to sweep a problem under the rug, and finally spoke. “Mr. Williams, are you telling me that if a thief breaks into my house, I should apologize to the thief for having a weak lock?” His face darkened instantly. He clearly hadn’t expected me to talk back. “Anya! What is that supposed to mean?” he roared, slamming his hand on the desk. “Do you even want this job anymore?!” I smiled, a breezy, unbothered expression on my face. “Of course, I do.” My calm reaction seemed to throw him off. He just stared, his chest heaving. “But Mr. Williams, I’d like to remind you of a few things.” “First, the company handbook explicitly prohibits spreading rumors and slandering colleagues. Brenda’s actions are a direct violation of company policy. As her manager, not only are you failing to address it, you’re asking me, the victim, to apologize. Wouldn’t that be considered management negligence?” The color on his face began to shift. “Second,” I continued, my voice steady but my gaze turning to ice, “you mentioned ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ Well, if a department constantly has issues with cliques, bullying, and drama that becomes company-wide gossip, doesn’t that suggest that maybe the department itself is the fire? That the whole place is rotten?” “You… you…” He pointed a trembling finger at me, speechless with rage. “And third,” I straightened my posture and smoothed down my blouse, my voice returning to a calm, professional tone. “I will not be apologizing. And it doesn’t matter if she deletes the post or not, because I’ve already contacted my lawyer. As for whether this incident will harm the company’s reputation… well, that depends on whether the company chooses to protect a slanderer or a victim.” “I’ve said my piece. I’ll let you get back to work, Director.” Without a second glance at his apoplectic face, I turned, opened the door, and walked out.

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1 The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, my husband, Dorian, invited me to go on a reality show about divorce. I knew he’d lost another bet to his little secretary. They’d made ninety-nine bets in total, and every single time, he’d thrown the game, letting her win. He lost the home we’d decorated together. He lost our wedding. He even lost the child we had created. Dorian let Stella perform the procedure herself, just to satisfy her morbid curiosity about the human body. When our seven-month-old baby was taken from me, I hemorrhaged and nearly died on the operating table. Now, he handed me the TV contract. “Aria, I lost another bet. It’s just a reality show, a way to appease Stella.” “Besides,” he added, “it’ll be good for your profile. Help you get acting work again.” He’d forgotten. The last time he lost a bet to Stella, he signed me up for a ten-picture deal for a series of erotic thrillers. “I won’t let a single frame of you get out,” he’d promised. The next day, a clip of me, completely naked, went viral. I was blacklisted by the entire industry. No director would touch me. I calmly took the contract and signed it. Dorian, satisfied, kissed my forehead. “Remember to choose ‘stay together’ in the final questionnaire. We’ll get off at the final stop together.” He didn’t know. We were never going to make it to the end of the line. … After I put the contract away, the phone rang. It was the funeral home. Dorian, who had been scrolling on his phone, glanced up when he heard the muffled, official tone of the voice on the other end. “Who died?” I hung up and gave him a vague answer. “A distant relative.” “Oh,” he said, and went back to his phone, walking out the door without a backward glance. As always, he forgot to wait for me. I didn’t let it bother me. I followed him out. But as I reached for the car door, he stopped my hand. He gestured to the car behind his. “Aria, you should drive yourself to the studio. I have to drop off some breakfast for Stella.” For a second, I was stunned. Then I quickly pulled my hand back. “Okay,” I said softly. He seemed surprised I wasn’t putting up a fight. For the first time in a long time, he gave me a gentle smile. “Make sure you eat something. You’re too thin.” My eyes fell on the back seat of his car. There were at least ten different kinds of breakfast foods, all still steaming. He must have gotten up early to buy them all himself. I looked away, remembering the time my stomach condition had flared up and I’d begged him to get me a warm glass of soy milk. He’d shot me an icy glare and handed me a carton of milk from the fridge. “I don’t have time. Just drink this.” Then he’d rushed out the door. He’d forgotten I was allergic to milk; the carton in the fridge was for him. He was never home anymore. It had expired weeks ago. By the time I snapped back to reality, his car was already gone. When I arrived at the studio, everyone stared at me. I ignored them and waited quietly. The other celebrity guests had already finished their pre-interviews, but Dorian was still nowhere to be seen. The director urged me to call him. I took out my phone, only to realize he’d blocked my number. The time before last, the prize for Stella’s winning bet was that he had to delete me from all his contacts. I put my phone away and offered the director an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t have his number.” The crew started whispering. “I bet she signed up on her own. The great Dorian Chase probably doesn’t even want to be here with her.” “After she made all those trashy films behind his back, sleeping with who knows how many men… he’s a saint for not divorcing her. How does she even have the nerve to show up on a divorce show?” The director was a friend of Dorian’s; he knew the truth. But he just blinked, and said nothing. I waited until nightfall. The other guests had all gone back to their hotels, but I remained in the cold, empty studio. An icy draft snaked through the window, and I couldn’t stop the coughs that rattled my chest. I wiped a smear of blood from my palm just as someone walked in. He heard me coughing and draped his jacket over my shoulders. “Sorry I’m late. Something urgent came up at the office.” I could smell the cloying scent of tuberose on his coat. Stella loved to bathe in tuberose water, so Dorian had built her a ten-acre tuberose greenhouse. Flowers that should have bloomed in spring now flourished in the dead of winter. I saw the faint red rash on his neck and discreetly looked away. Dorian was allergic to pollen. The worst time, he’d gone into anaphylactic shock right in front of me. I had cried, I had begged him to stop risking his health for Stella. All I got in return was a cold stare and a sharp, “Stay out of it.” I clutched the bloody tissue in my hand and shrugged off his jacket. I hated that smell. He knew that. My mother had died under the tuberose tree where my father had first courted her, on the day she caught him cheating. When we were young and in love, Dorian would always meticulously instruct the florist: no tuberose. He had sworn to me that he would never betray me. But flowers wilt. And hearts are fickle. The boy who had once loved me had found a girl he loved more. The crew called us for our one-on-one interviews. Dorian was still glued to his phone, a doting smile on his face. Everyone knew better than to disturb him. So I answered the director’s pointed questions alone, a one-woman show. It wasn’t hard. It was just acting. I treated it as my final performance. For the last segment, the director handed us each a slip of paper and asked the final question: “Do you still want a divorce?” Dorian finally looked up from his phone. By the time he took the slip, I had already dropped mine into the box. He followed suit, then joked with the director, “What’s with all the mystery? We have to wait until the last day of filming to open these?” He looked at me, his voice full of confidence. “We’re not getting a divorce.” He stood up and started to drag my suitcase toward the hotel. But just as we reached the entrance, his phone rang. A smile immediately spread across his face, and he stepped aside to take the call. I struggled to haul the heavy suitcase up the steps by myself. When he came back, I instinctively handed him his pajamas. He just shook his head. “Lost another bet to Stella,” he said with a light laugh. “She says we can’t sleep in the same bed for the next seven days.” My hand froze in mid-air. The old me would have started a screaming match. But now, I barely had the strength to breathe. I had no energy left for fighting. I pulled my hand back and lay down on the bed. “Do what you want. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” Dorian’s attention was already back on his phone. He didn’t even hear me. The next morning, there was a pink hair tie on his wrist. A lipstick stain on his collar confirmed he had left in the middle of the night. He unconsciously toyed with the hair tie, and I couldn’t help but remember a few years ago, when it was trendy to have your boyfriend wear your hair tie. I’d slipped mine onto Dorian’s wrist. He’d pulled it off and thrown it in the trash right in front of me. “You’re almost thirty,” he’d scoffed, not even trying to hide his disgust. “Stop playing these childish games.” I stared at the hair tie. I could just make out a tiny, embroidered ‘S’. It was a glaring reminder. He didn’t remember that Stella was a year older than me. But for her, he was more than happy to play childish games. “I got breakfast. Let’s eat.” It was the first time in our entire marriage that Dorian had ever bought me breakfast, even if it was just an excuse to cover for his nightly absence. Bringing Stella breakfast, however, had long been his routine. He handed me a glass of milk. I had told him so many times. He never remembered that I couldn’t drink it. But a single, offhand comment from Stella about her preferences was meticulously recorded in the notes on his phone. I’d seen it once by accident: a long, detailed list. I reached for a soup dumpling, but he slapped my hand away. A dark red mark instantly appeared on my skin. He pushed a bowl of congee towards me. “This is for you.” I suddenly remembered a post I’d seen on Stella’s social media earlier. Ugh, I’m craving hot, steamy soup dumplings so bad, the caption read, followed by a crying emoji. It all made sense. “We have an outdoor shoot today,” I reminded him. But he had already picked up the insulated food container and was walking out the door. Snow had started to fall outside. I laughed a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. When it came to Stella, nothing stood in his way. Not wind, not rain, not snow. I remembered when I was on location for a film and got caught in a landslide. I called him in a panic. He’d just called me dramatic and hung up. The disaster relief supplies he sent for me ended up in the wrong province. I almost died in that landslide. He was at an amusement park with Stella. The difference between love and not-love was so stark. And I only saw it clearly when I was on the verge of death. I forced the congee into my mouth. It was already cold. The soup dumplings, however, were still steaming. He must have held them close to his chest to keep them warm. I knew this because I, too, had once stood in the falling snow, clutching a container of warm soup dumplings, waiting for him outside his dorm. He was loving someone else in the exact same way I had once loved him. It made my devotion feel pathetic and absurd. The director informed me that Dorian would be absent from filming for the next four days. I was to continue with the other three couples. For four days, I was a ghost, a silent figure captured on camera. No one wanted to talk to the infamous porn star. And every day, Stella’s social media was a whirlwind of activity. Dorian took her skiing in the Arctic Circle. They went on vacation to Bali. They went to see the Northern Lights in a Christmas village. The pain in my body made it hard to think, but after a while, it dawned on me. The places they were going… it was the honeymoon itinerary Dorian and I had planned together, so long ago. My finger hovered over the screen. A drop of blood from my nose fell onto their picture together under the aurora, then another, and another. I fumbled for a tissue, and in my haste to wipe it away, I accidentally ‘liked’ the photo. A moment later, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. It was him. His voice was tense. “Aria, it’s Stella’s birthday. That’s why I took her on this trip.” I wiped away the last of the blood. “It’s fine,” I croaked. His voice softened. “Aria, after this show is over, my hundred bets with Stella will be finished.” “When I get back, I’ll make it up to you. We’ll celebrate our anniversary properly.” Just then, I heard a girl’s voice in the background. “Dorian, hurry! The fireworks are about to start!” He hung up abruptly. A calendar notification popped up on my screen. Tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of the day we got together. And I only had a few days left. My time with Dorian had taken up nearly half my life. The next day, for the first time in forever, Dorian didn’t break his promise. He showed up on set, on time. I wore the pale yellow dress I’d worn on our first date, but I had taken off the wedding ring I had worn for so long. It hadn’t fit for a while, but I could never bring myself to remove it. Until now. When I stepped out of my room, Dorian stared at me for a long time, then smiled and came to take my hand. “Aria, you’re too thin. You need to eat more.” Just like when we were young, when he would place the few pieces of meat from his bowl into mine and gently stroke my hair. “Eat up, Aria.” For a moment, I was moved. Then, Stella’s voice cut through the air. “Aria, you’re a celebrity for goodness sake. What are you wearing? You’re embarrassing Dorian.” She looked me up and down and snorted. Dorian just playfully tapped her on the forehead. “Stella’s joining us for the jungle expedition today,” he announced. Stella lifted her chin proudly. “What expedition? I’m your producer and director now! You’d better be on your best behavior, or I’ll make sure the cameraman gets all your worst angles.” Dorian just laughed and agreed to everything. When we got in the car, Stella slid into the driver’s seat. She shot me a provocative smile. “Sorry, Aria. I get carsick. You’ll have to sit in the back.” I said nothing and climbed in. They chattered on about their trip, and I closed my eyes, trying to rest. But I could see him glancing at me in the rearview mirror, again and again. Stella noticed. Suddenly, she cried out, “Ouch!” Dorian slammed on the brakes. “Stella, what’s wrong?” “My stomach!” she gasped, clutching her abdomen. “It hurts so much!” He turned to me. “Get out of the car. I’m taking Stella to the hospital.” I looked out at the snow-covered wilderness. Dorian had followed Stella’s directions and turned onto a different road. The rest of the crew was no longer behind us. “Take me back with you.” “We can’t do that!” Stella cried. “We can’t let Aria miss the shoot because of me!” She grimaced, her face contorted in pain. Dorian, seemingly lost to reason, dragged me out of the car. “The crew will be here any minute. You wait here. Stella’s not strong. She can’t handle this cold.” As the car sped away, I could barely stand. The snow fell harder and harder. I waited for three hours. The pile of bloody tissues next to me grew. I was on the verge of collapsing from hypothermia when a familiar figure came running towards me. “Aria!” I woke up in the production’s medical van. Stella was muttering beside me. “I’m so stupid, I can’t believe I gave you the wrong directions. Aria won’t be mad at me, will she?” Dorian held her close. “Of course not,” he cooed. The doctor standing nearby looked like she wanted to say something, but I shook my head at her. After only an hour’s rest, the director told us to resume filming. This time, the crew drove us directly into the jungle. Stella insisted on coming along. The snow was ankle-deep. I instinctively looked at Dorian. He used to carry me on his back when it snowed, so my shoes wouldn’t get wet. Now, without a moment’s hesitation, he lifted Stella onto his back. After a while, he realized I’d fallen behind. He saw my pale face and stammered, “Stella… she’s not feeling well.” I didn’t answer. I just trudged forward. We walked in silence. As we neared our destination, Stella announced she wanted to build a fire. Dorian carefully set her down and went to gather firewood. Stella glanced at the cameraman behind her, then leaned in close to me. “Aria, did Dorian tell you he wouldn’t divorce you?” “He was lying. On every single slip of paper, he wrote ‘divorce’.” “Do you know why?” she whispered, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. She stroked her flat stomach. “Because I’m pregnant with his child. He wants the whole world to witness your divorce, so he can marry me in a lavish ceremony.” For some reason, my heart, which had been numb for so long, started to pound. She continued, her voice a cruel hiss. “He never cared about that bastard in your belly. Otherwise, why would he have let you get rid of it? Tsk, tsk, you should have seen it. It was all purple when it came out…” A mouthful of blood erupted from my lips. Before anyone could react, I lunged at her, my hands closing around her throat. “You bitch! You took my baby from me! Give me back my baby!” In the struggle, a hand cracked across my face, and I was thrown backward. “Dorian, help me!” Stella screamed. “Aria’s trying to kill me! Oh god, I’m bleeding! Are we going to lose the baby?” I tumbled down the steep slope. When I looked up, Dorian was standing over me, his face a mask of fury. “Aria, if anything happens to Stella or this child, I will never forgive you.” He lifted Stella into his arms and turned to leave. “Let her stay down there and think about what she’s done,” he commanded. “No one is allowed to help her up.” The director hesitated. “Dorian, it’s freezing. There are wolves in these woods…” “She had the guts to attack a pregnant woman,” Dorian cut him off coldly. “You think she’s afraid of a few wolves? Pull your crew out now. Anyone who tries to help her, I’ll pull all funding.” A wave of metallic sweetness filled my mouth, and I coughed up more blood. “Dorian,” I called out to the furious man. He paused for a second, but he didn’t turn back. He didn’t hear my final whisper. “Happy tenth anniversary, Dorian.” The snow began to cover me. It was good. I wouldn’t feel pain anymore… The next morning, Dorian drove alone to the final destination of the reality show’s journey. There, the final result would be broadcast live to the entire nation. If both parties got out of their cars, it meant they were choosing to stay together. As a hearse passed him on the road, a sense of unease crept into his heart. He had told his assistant to bring me back last night, but I was nowhere to be seen when he woke up. He just assumed I had left early. He waited at the final stop for a long time. When a car finally pulled up, he rushed forward, his face full of joy. But when he saw who got out, he froze. At the same time, his assistant ran towards him, his face pale with panic. “Sir, something’s happened!” And on the car radio, a pre-recorded message began to play. A woman’s voice, soft and gentle. “To my dearest fans, by the time you hear this, I will have already left this world…”

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Four years after I died, my grandmother rummaged through my old things, found my dead cell phone, and somehow managed to call Julian. “Sarah, it’s been four whole years, and you finally remember to call me?” Julian’s voice was dripping with venom. “What? Did your sugar daddy run out of money? If you’re broke, go sell yourself on the street. Don’t come crying to me.” He didn’t stop there. “Let me make this clear. I don’t want to see you for a single second. I’d rather be dead.” On this end of the line, Grandma froze. Her hunched back looked incredibly lonely in the empty living room. She held the phone with trembling hands and asked carefully, “Julian? Did you and Sarah have a fight? I… I can’t find Sarah.” After she spoke, her cloudy eyes stared blankly into the empty room. Then, as if a memory briefly flickered, she murmured to herself, “Oh, that’s right. Sarah died. She’s gone. How did I forget again…” Chapter 1 maybe it was because I couldn’t let go of Grandma, but after I died, my soul stayed by her side. Unfortunately, Grandma had Alzheimer’s. She often forgot that I was dead. Today, she had another episode. She wandered out to the park alone and forgot the way home. The stubborn little old lady sat on a bench, muttering to herself, “It doesn’t matter if I’m lost. When Sarah sees I’m not home, she’ll definitely come find me.” My ghost was hovering right next to her. She wasn’t even far from our apartment, but because she couldn’t hear me, I couldn’t guide her. As the sun began to set, I started panicking, floating around frantically. She was nearly eighty; if she spent the night in the park, she wouldn’t make it. Luckily, Grandma seemed to realize this too. Seeing the park empty out, she finally stood up. She grabbed the first person she saw. “Have you seen my granddaughter, Sarah?” I knew the drill. Usually, people would chat with her, realize she was confused, and call the police. Once the cops came, she’d be safe. Unfortunately, she grabbed the wrong person. She grabbed Julian. Julian looked down at Grandma, his tone laced with impatience. “Where is Sarah? Why are you out here alone? It’s late. If she’s leaving an old woman alone in a park, she’s probably out with…” Chapter 2 He didn’t finish the sentence, probably out of respect for Grandma. But I knew what he wanted to say. She’s probably out sleeping with some random guy. See? Even though I’d been dead for four years, this man’s hatred for me hadn’t faded a bit. Grandma didn’t catch his drift. Seeing Julian made her face light up. “Julian! You haven’t come over for dinner in ages. You love my pot roast, don’t you? Tomorrow is your birthday. Come over. I’ll make it for you.” She patted his arm. “You young people need to work through things. Sarah is a good girl, she just bottles things up. When she left today, she said she was going to buy you a birthday gift. She wants to surprise you tomorrow.” My heart ached. Grandma’s memory was stuck on that day. Four years ago. Back when we were still in love. Back when we were inseparable, before she showed up. Julian sneered. “Grandma, this isn’t funny. Sarah and I broke up. If she’s buying a gift, it’s probably for some other guy.” Grandma froze. “Broke up? But… Sarah never told me. Julian, don’t be mad. When Sarah comes back, I’ll scold her!” The little old lady looked so fiercely protective. I wanted to hug her, to tell her not to be angry, but my arms passed right through her body. Four years, and I still wasn’t used to being a ghost. Chapter 3 Julian laughed, a cold, harsh sound. He clearly didn’t believe a word she said. “I told you, we are done. If this is some trick Sarah told you to play, I’ll let it slide this once. But please, do not mention her name in front of me again.” Just then, two neighborhood ladies walked by and spotted Grandma. “Mrs. Miller! Why are you still out here? Did you forget where you live again?” one asked. Then she whispered loudly to her friend, “Poor thing. It’s just her and her granddaughter, and then the granddaughter died four years ago. She’s all alone.” Right. I died four years ago. I remembered that birthday. I had gone to the mall, bursting with excitement to buy his gift, only to see him walking arm-in-arm with another woman. I walked out in a daze. Then, my phone buzzed. A DM from a stranger. It was a selfie. A girl wearing a men’s white dress shirt, lying on messy hotel sheets. The caption read: They say high school sweethearts are hard to beat, but what about a childhood friend? I recognized the shirt. I had sewn the top button on myself. I had even stitched a tiny, unique flower pattern on the cuff—something I learned from YouTube. Julian wore it to every major meeting. He called it our love token. And now, it was on her. That was the moment I learned how cheap love could be. Chapter 4 Hearing the neighbors, Julian went rigid. Disbelief washed over his face. “What did you say? Sarah is dead?” He grabbed the woman’s arm. “You’re lying, right? Sarah paid you to say that. That woman is an expert liar.” The neighbors looked at him like he was insane. “Who is this guy? Is he crazy? Who jokes about death? That’s bad luck.” Grandma seemed to drift back to reality. Her lips trembled. “That’s right… Sarah… Sarah isn’t here anymore…” Julian stood there, frozen, looking ridiculous. My spirit followed Grandma and the neighbors back home. I was relieved Julian didn’t follow us immediately. Back in the apartment, Grandma sat on the sofa, stroking a framed photo of me, wiping away tears. “Oh, Sarah. You were so young. Why did you have to go before me?” I tried to wipe her tears, but I couldn’t. I could only cry with her. “Grandma, I didn’t leave. I’m right here.” But she couldn’t hear me. Then, the doorbell rang. “Grandma, open up. It’s me, Julian.” I panicked. No. He couldn’t come in. If he saw my things… Chapter 5 Grandma was slow to react. She turned her head toward the door. Outside, Julian shouted, “Grandma, let me in! I thought about it—Sarah can’t be dead. She’s just trying to trick me into coming over. Well, I’m here! Stop pretending! Open the door!” He started pounding on the door. I was furious. He was going to scare her. The old Julian would never have done this; he used to speak softly to her. Now, he was practically breaking the door down. I rushed to the door, swinging my ghostly fists at him, screaming, “Yes! I lied! I tricked you! Now leave! Get out!” But my fists passed through him. I cried in frustration. Inside, a loud crash made me rush back. Grandma was fine. She had just dropped the picture frame. She picked it up, wiping the glass. “It got dirty. Sarah loves this photo. Thank goodness it didn’t break.” It was the photo Julian took of me. I wanted to tell her: I don’t like that one anymore, Grandma. I like the one of us together.

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At my wife’s birthday party, her date for the evening pinched his nose and declared that I stank. She just laughed, ordering her security to strip me and throw me in the pool. “Why don’t you wash off that reek of poverty and filth,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “You can get out when it’s gone.” My dogs, the pack I’d raised myself, surged forward, trying to drive off the men holding me under. But my wife simply ordered the staff to beat them all to death. They had no idea. They thought they were just dogs. They didn’t know I could command beasts. Amid the jeering laughter, I lifted the lifeless body of my youngest pup into my arms and raised the ivory whistle to my lips. “Today,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise, “not a single one of you is leaving this place.” 01 The moment the words left my mouth, the garden erupted in howls of laughter. “Did the water go to his brain? Blowing a whistle? Does he think he’s some kind of hero? He’s going to break a tooth talking like that.” “Ooh, such big words. I guess we didn’t wash him clean enough.” “Here, let’s give him another rinse.” With that, they grabbed my head and shoved it back under the chlorinated water. Clarissa watched from the patio, a serene smile on her face, making no move to stop them. Of course she didn’t. This was all her command. But this time, the hands that had been impossible to break free from felt like paper. I threw them off with ease. Seeing me resist ignited Clarissa’s fury. She stormed over, not caring about the water soaking her designer dress, and grabbed me by the collar. “Cole, you dare fight back?” she seethed. “You’re a charity case from the mountains. If it weren’t for the Sinclair family, you’d still be running with wild dogs.” “Listen to me, Cole. If you want to keep living under our roof, you will get in that pool and wash the stench off you. The Sinclairs do not shelter trash.” I brushed her hand away. “Clarissa,” I asked, a humorless laugh in my voice, “what on earth makes you think I need the Sinclair family?” Her face flushed crimson. Ever since the Sinclair Corporation had started its meteoric rise three years ago, no one had dared to speak to her like that, least of all the man she despised most. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Who the hell do you think you are, Cole? You and your filthy mutts—every cent spent on you came from us!” “Don’t you dare play the saint with me.” I flicked a few drops of water from my shirt. “You’ve got that wrong,” I said calmly. “I’ve never used a single cent of Sinclair money. In fact, the question is, how much have the Sinclairs enjoyed spending mine?” It was the truth. Three years ago, the Sinclair Corporation was on the brink of collapse. Her father, Arthur Sinclair, had come to me, bearing my family’s token. My grandfather had told me before he died that if anyone ever came with that token, I was to help them, as long as it wasn’t for some wicked purpose. So I left the mountains with my pack and, as he wished, I married Clarissa. With my skills and connections, I opened doors for the Sinclair Corporation that had been sealed shut for decades. I made them the undisputed titans of Apex City. My words silenced the party. Every eye turned to Clarissa. She was trembling with rage. Her hand flew up to strike me. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! The Sinclair name has stood for a century! What are you that you dare say such things?” Cradling the small, still body in my arms, I couldn’t dodge in time. The slap was hard and clean. The taste of blood filled my mouth. That slap brought the rage simmering beneath the surface to a full boil. I looked at her, my voice cold. “Miss Sinclair, aren’t you afraid of what your father will say when he finds out about this?” Clarissa just waved a dismissive hand. “My father’s gone senile. That’s the only reason he fell for your tricks. Today, I’m going to make him see that a person like you will never be worthy of me.” I didn’t know if this was her idea or her father’s, but I was done talking. I turned to leave with my fallen companion. “Wait!” It was Lance’s voice. “Mr. Miller. It wouldn’t be right for you to just walk off with Sinclair property, would it?” I turned back to face him. “I’ve told you. Nothing I have belongs to the Sinclairs.” Lance’s lips curled into a smug, provocative smile as he pointed at the small body in my arms. “This dog ate Sinclair food, drank Sinclair water. That makes it a Sinclair dog, even in death. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Miller?” 02 The insinuation was clear to everyone. The tense atmosphere shattered. “Hahaha, Mr. Knight is right! The most important thing in life is gratitude. For example, if something isn’t yours, it’s not yours even when it’s dead.” “That dog looks like it was well-fed. I wonder how it tastes?” “Easy enough to find out! You think Clarissa would say no if Lance asked?” “Of course not. Everyone knows she’d do anything for him.” The mockery grew louder. Lance wrapped an arm around Clarissa, his expression one of pure arrogance. I hugged the cold body in my arms tighter, my gaze locking on Clarissa. “Is that what you think, Clarissa? Do you agree with him?” She smiled and gave a firm, deliberate nod. “Lance is right. It ate my food, drank my water. Even dead, it’s my dog.” She looked me up and down, then sneered. “As for you—you can crawl back to whatever mountain ditch you came from.” I hadn’t expected that. She knew how much my dogs meant to me. They had been my constant companions since I left the mountains. Even her own father treated them with kindness. I had always told myself that this arranged marriage wasn’t what she wanted, that a man should be patient with his wife’s moods. When she mocked me for smelling like the animals I spent my time with, I endured it for her father’s sake. But my tolerance had only earned me deeper humiliation, culminating in the brutal murder of the animals I’d raised since they were pups. In that moment, I decided I was done enduring. Lance, seeing my silence, grew impatient and reached out to snatch the body from my arms. I sidestepped him easily. “And what if I say no?” I said, my voice calm. “If you want to take what’s mine, you’re not worthy. None of you are.” Clarissa seemed stunned by my defiance. Then, her shock turned to rage. “Cole! Today, I will teach you whose name is on the deed to this house!” Did she really think I didn’t know? On paper, the company was still Sinclair. In reality, every major deal, every new venture, was mine. With a single word, I could have the name changed. But Clarissa, despite her dislike for me, had always maintained a certain decorum in public. She’d never humiliated me like this before. First, she lets her boy-toy provoke me, then she has my dog killed. Either this was her father’s doing, or she had found a new patron powerful enough to defy him. Either way, my patience had finally run out. Clarissa clung to Lance’s arm. “Guards! Take the dog back. And strip him. I don’t want him leaving with a single thing that belongs to this family.” My eyes were ice. “Clarissa, don’t forget what your father told you.” At the mention of her father, the approaching servants hesitated. Arthur Sinclair had stepped back from daily operations, but his authority was still absolute. They were caught in the middle. Seeing them falter, Clarissa shrieked, her voice echoing across the garden. “Cole, you dare threaten me with my own father?! Do it!” 03 The other dogs in my pack, injured but alive, struggled to their feet. They formed a protective circle around me, their eyes fixed on the approaching men. The servants backed away. They knew how formidable these animals were. A team of mercenaries who once tried to break in and kidnap Clarissa had been torn apart by this very pack. I knelt and gently stroked their heads. “Don’t be afraid,” I whispered. “I will make them pay.” My voice was soft, but those nearby heard it and laughed again. “Did you hear that? He’s telling the dogs he’ll make us pay.” “He really does think he’s one of them.” Clarissa covered her nose in disgust as I touched the animals. “Disgusting. Just like their master. We’ll kill them all today and have a feast.” I fought to control my fury. “You want to eat them?” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You must be dreaming.” Lance stepped forward. “Cole, you live off the Sinclairs’ charity, and you have the audacity to talk back to Clarissa.” “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell them not to resist. We’ll make it quick for them. And don’t worry, after we make stew, we’ll be sure to save you the bones.” The crowd of rich heirs roared with laughter. They had been subtly isolating me all night, and now, with Lance’s arrival, their sycophancy had reached a fever pitch. “Let me be blunt,” I said, my gaze sweeping across their smug faces before landing back on Clarissa. “You are not qualified to force me to do anything. It’s not that I look down on you… it’s that even if your fathers were standing here, they wouldn’t be qualified either.” “Especially you, Clarissa.” “I finally understand why your father refuses to hand the company over to you. He’s known all along that you’re an incompetent fool.” The words struck a nerve. Her face contorted with rage. “What do you think you are, Cole?” she screamed. “You’re nothing but a dog my grandfather raised for me!” “And let me tell you something. Lance is the heir to a reclusive dynasty. With his help, the Sinclair Corporation will be mine!” I looked at Lance, who puffed out his chest at the mention of his status, and almost laughed. A reclusive dynasty named Knight? I wondered what the old masters would say if they heard that. My silence was misinterpreted as fear. Lance wrapped an arm around Clarissa and kissed her deeply. When they broke apart, he shot me a contemptuous look. “Only a man of my station is worthy of Clarissa. As for you—” His eyes raked over me. “—get as far away from here as you can.” The other heirs immediately began to chime in. “Mr. Knight is the heir to a reclusive dynasty? No wonder he captured Miss Sinclair’s heart!” “They’re a perfect match! A match made in heaven!” The flattery went to their heads. Clarissa dropped all pretense. “Cole,” she said, her voice cold and final. “I want a divorce.” 04 Now I was sure. Her father knew nothing about this. If he had any idea who Lance claimed to be, he would never agree to a divorce. Since Clarissa had decided to grind my dignity into the dirt, I no longer felt any need to honor the kindness her father had shown me. I clapped slowly. “Finally. You’ve revealed your true purpose.” “The public humiliation, the murder of my dog… all of it was just a prelude to asking for a divorce, wasn’t it?” “I just don’t understand. Why go to all this trouble?” Clarissa sensed the fury beneath my calm exterior. She clung to Lance’s arm and sneered. “Because Lance hates you, of course. We had to do something to make you give up for good.” I was genuinely shocked. What had I ever done to make her think I was so desperate to hold on to her that she needed to resort to this? I laughed out loud. “Clarissa, have I ever once told you that I love you? Who gave you the ridiculous idea that I would cling to you like some pathetic stray?” Yes, I had tolerated her foolishness. But that didn’t mean she could parade her lover in front of me and expect me to take it. Her face darkened. Lance, however, couldn’t resist jumping in. “Don’t try to save face. There’s no shame in loving Clarissa. The only shame is being loved by someone like you.” He kicked one of the bodyguards standing nearby. “What are you waiting for? Get the dogs and throw him back in the pool.” These were not the household servants from before. These were professional security, armed and ready. At Lance’s command, they charged. The dogs around me crouched low, a deep, menacing growl rumbling in their chests. I raised the ivory whistle to my lips. As the sound pierced the air, the dogs moved with an almost human intelligence, dodging and weaving through the guards’ attacks. Until the guards were gasping for breath, and still hadn’t managed to touch a single one.

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The indie actress I’d followed for three years, so obscure she barely had a fandom, finally called it quits. As one of her few die-hard fans, I got a private message from her, Ava Jane. “I found my family. I know things are going to get better now.” I sent her my best wishes, then booked a flight to Europe to nurse my own melancholy. That’s when the call came. I wasn’t who I thought I was. I was the switched-at-birth daughter, the imposter in a life that was never meant for me. My mother’s voice was a soothing balm over the phone. “Darling, you will always be our most precious baby.” My brother called from overseas. “You’re the only sister I’ll ever have. No one is taking anything from you.” My friends kept me updated with a running commentary via a live feed from back home. The real heiress, they said, was being brutally ostracized by our elite circle, a social pariah in her own home. Then, at four in the morning, another private message buzzed on my phone. [Even though we’ve never met, you might be the only friend I have left in this world. I’m so tired. Why does it still hurt so much, even after finding my family? Goodbye. I wish you all the best.] The words jolted me awake. 1 My eyes shot open. I ripped off my sleep mask and sat bolt upright in bed. Something was terribly, terribly wrong with her tone. My hands trembled as I typed, my fingers flying across the keyboard in a panic. [Honey, no, please don’t! What’s wrong? Don’t do anything stupid!!!!] She must have been shocked to get an instant reply at four in the morning. The silence stretched for a full thirty seconds. Finally, a message from Ava appeared. [Why are you still awake?] A wave of relief washed over me—she was still responding. But it was followed by a fresh surge of fear. [I’m overseas, there’s a bit of a time difference.] [Never mind that. What happened? Can you talk to me? You said it yourself, we’re friends.] This time, the silence was longer. So long that I couldn’t sit still. I jumped out of bed, my bare feet cold on the floor, and dialed my brother, not caring that it was the middle of the night back home. Leo’s voice was thick with sleep. “Summer? Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?” My own voice was grim. “Leo, I need you to find someone for me. Drop everything.” Before I could tell him about Ava, my phone buzzed with a new message. [It’s okay now. I was in a dark place for a minute. Don’t worry.] The crushing weight on my chest lifted. I realized I was drenched in a cold sweat. Leo was still on the line, demanding answers. “It’s nothing, Leo. Go back to sleep.” He chuckled softly. “You’re the only one who could get away with waking me up at this hour. I know you’re not feeling great about… all this. That’s why you’ve been away so long. But it’s okay, Summer. You’ll always be my only sister, you know that?” “I know,” I murmured. After more than twenty years together, my family knew me better than anyone. My extended vacation was, in part, a way of avoiding the inevitable. Two months ago, I’d left on a whim to clear my head. The moment I was gone, the bomb dropped: I was the wrong daughter. The real one had been found. My family swore they wouldn’t send me away, that we would always be a family, but our social circle was a viper’s nest of gossip. The rumor was that I’d fled the country to escape the scandal. Annoyed, I decided to stay and personally oversee our company’s European branch for a while. After reassuring Leo I’d be home soon, I hurried back to my chat with Ava. [Don’t be sad, sweetie. I don’t know what happened, but I’m always on your side. Always.] Her reply came quickly this time. [I was just thinking… if I died, it would cause a lot of trouble for other people. This is the first time in my life I’ve had my own room. I cherish it. I don’t want to die here.] Her words painted a vivid, heartbreaking picture. I punched my pillow in frustration. Who the hell were these people she’d found? How could anyone have someone as wonderful as Ava and not treat her like a treasure? Sleep was impossible now. Worried sick, I sat cross-legged on my bed and chatted with her for hours. I knew Ava’s story. An orphan, raised in a group home. She was discovered by a scout because of her stunning looks, but without connections and unwilling to play the industry’s dirty games, she never got past bit parts. I’d stumbled upon her work by chance and fallen for her talent. I was one of her handful of fans, and just when I thought she might finally get her big break, she quit. She told me she’d found her family, but it seemed they didn’t want her. Her simple, typed words on the screen made my heart ache. [I guess if a stranger suddenly showed up and wanted to join my family, I’d have a hard time accepting it too. I get it.] We talked for a long time. I made sure she had calmed down and that the suicidal thoughts had passed before I let myself relax. [Honey, I’m coming home in a few days. Will you wait for me? I’ve never even met you in person. If your family isn’t good to you, it doesn’t matter. When I get back, I’ll be your friend and your family. You just have to wait for me.] She took a long time to reply. [Okay.] A smile touched my lips. I opened the airline app to book a flight, only to stare at the screen in disbelief. A historic blizzard was forecast for the next two weeks. All flights home were grounded. 2 The next day, I checked the flight schedules again, my hope dwindling. It was confirmed: I wasn’t getting home for at least two weeks. Resigned, I called my mother. Her voice was laced with a theatrical pout. “Darling, are you sure you’re not just making excuses?” “Mom, I’m serious,” I said, exasperated. “Have your assistant check the flight statuses if you don’t believe me. I’m literally snowed in.” She sighed, then launched into a flurry of motherly advice about staying warm and safe during the blizzard. Listening to her, a warmth spread through my chest. I had been avoiding their calls, because… well, because of everything. But right now, it felt like nothing had changed. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the phone, making me jump. I heard my mother’s voice, sharp and urgent. “I told you not to touch anything in this house! That was Summer’s!” The reply was faint, a tiny voice apologizing over and over. “Mom? What was that?” I asked. A few seconds passed before she came back on the line, her tone smooth again. “Oh, sorry, sweetheart. Mommy was just careless and knocked over your old model. Don’t you worry, I’ll have Leo buy you the newest edition, okay?” I frowned. I’d heard the other voice. The one who knocked it over was… her. I was silent for a moment, grateful we were on the phone so she couldn’t see the expression on my face. “Oh, that old thing?” I said, forcing a light tone. “I built that ages ago. I don’t even like it anymore. It’s no big deal.” She didn’t reply right away. For some reason, I didn’t hang up. Like a thief, I listened in, trying to piece together the scene at home from the muffled sounds on the other end. I heard my mother’s voice again, no longer the gentle tone she used with me, but cold and severe. Then, I heard quiet, suppressed sobs. I sighed. I wasn’t the only one having a hard time. A moment later, my mother’s voice returned. “Darling, are you still there?” I hesitated. “Mom… she’s your biological daughter. Maybe you should be a little…” It was the first time in two months I had acknowledged her existence directly. I could feel my mother freeze on the other end of the line. Then came a choked sob. “Why did she have to show up now? Why did she have to ruin our family? Couldn’t we have just let the mistake be?” I fell silent, torn between relief at my family’s unwavering love for me and a deep, gnawing shame. None of this was the real heiress’s fault. After we hung up, I wiped a tear from my eye and went back to messaging Ava. [Sweetie TAT the blizzard is insane, all flights are cancelled. I’m stuck here for a while.] [I’m so bored. Everyone here speaks a different language. Can you chat with me more? I need a friend.] I had to give her a reason to feel needed, to anchor her fragile emotional state. A moment later, she replied. [A blizzard? Oh no! You have to be careful and stay safe.] It was followed by a small, worried-face emoji. We chatted for a bit, and then she went quiet. Just as I was starting to worry, a new message came through. [Summer, am I just… redundant?] I jabbed at the keyboard, my fingers hitting the screen harder than necessary. [Of course not!!! You’re the absolute best!!!] [But today, my mother said she wished I had never come back. That I disrupted their happy family.] A surge of anger shot through me. I typed furiously. [Then leave. You don’t need a family like that. I have money. You go back to acting, and I’ll be your investor. I’ll make you a star!] [You know, the first time I saw you on screen, I knew you were a brilliant, gifted actress.] Her reply was quick. [That’s so sweet of you. I’ve thought about leaving, I really have. But I pissed off Mr. Thorne, the head of Celestial Entertainment. He’s a friend of my… family. He hates me. I don’t think I can go back to acting TAT] [Maybe I should just get a normal job…] Celestial Entertainment. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Maybe they had a partnership with our family’s company? I’d look into it when I got home. 3 For the next few days, I threw myself into work at the branch office, messaging Ava in every spare moment. Her mood seemed to be improving, but from the little details she let slip, I knew her situation at home was still terrible. Her family was clearly wealthy and provided for her financially—a step up from her former life of barely scraping by—but emotionally, she was starving. All I could do was pray for the snow to stop. For over twenty years, I, Summer Sterling, had been a force to be reckoned with in our circle—and not just because I was a Sterling. I was a legend in the venture capital world. Protecting one girl should have been easy. I cursed myself for being just a fangirl, for being happy she’d found her family without ever considering what kind of family they might be. I had just wrapped up a meeting when my phone rang. The smug, infuriating voice of Julian Thorne filled my ear. “Summer Sterling. Been gone a long time. Trying to ditch our engagement?” I rolled my eyes. “Julian, have you been living under a rock? Haven’t you heard? I’m the wrong one. Your engagement is with the Sterling heiress. You’ve got the wrong number.” He chuckled. “You told your brother you didn’t care, but I can tell you’re dying inside. Come on, she’s some country bumpkin. She can’t hold a candle to you. Besides, I already took care of her for you. She won’t dare show her face around you now.” I frowned. “Don’t do anything stupid, Julian. She’s still a Sterling, by blood. What did you do to her? She hasn’t done anything wrong.” “Relax,” he said. “The Sterlings are paying to keep her in style. Isn’t that enough? Now stop talking about switching fiancées and get your ass back here.” We chatted for a few more minutes. Right before hanging up, I remembered something. “Hey, didn’t you say you invested in an entertainment company? Let me play with it when I get back.” “Why?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “Thinking of sponsoring some boy toy? Not on my watch.” “Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m going to make a star. Just you wait, my girl is going to take the world by storm.” “What’s your company called again?” I asked. Before Julian could answer, the line went dead. I glanced at my phone. The screen was black. Dead battery. Again. Back at my apartment, a message from Ava was waiting. [Summer, are you busy? I was wondering if I could ask you for some advice. Even though we haven’t met, I just feel like you must be such a graceful and beautiful person. The kind my mother would like.] I replied immediately. It turned out she wanted advice on table manners. [My family’s social circle invited me to a party. Maybe… maybe this means they’re ready to accept me.] Ava sent me pictures of a few dresses. [Which one should I wear?] I looked at the photos and frowned. From her descriptions, her family had money. A party in their circle wouldn’t be a simple dinner. These dresses were all wrong. I typed carefully. [Honey, would you be comfortable giving me an address? Let me order a dress for you.] I already had a chat window open with the regional manager for Chanel, ready to request a piece from their latest couture collection for her. Ava replied quickly. [Oh no, that’s too much trouble! I want to be your friend, not take advantage of you. I know these aren’t right. I’ll just ask my mother if I can borrow one. She’ll probably make fun of me, but I can just pretend I don’t hear her. Cat-making-a-fist.jpg] The emoji made me laugh out loud. She was such a sweetheart. As soon as I got back, I was taking her away from all of this. At the same time, my phone started buzzing incessantly. It was my group chat, “The Heiress Club,” lighting up with messages. Chloe Vance, one of the inner circle, tagged me. [@Summer Sterling, don’t say I never do anything for you. Don’t go to bed too early tonight. We’ve got a surprise for you.] 4 That evening, I was lying in bed with a face mask on, scrolling through videos. Outside, snow fell in thick, silent sheets. I kept refreshing my phone, but there was no new message from Ava. I wondered how her party was going. My right eyelid twitched. Suddenly, my phone pinged. A video from Julian. And a voice message. I played the audio. It was his smug, triumphant voice. “Summer, wake up! You’ve got to see this. This country girl is hilarious. I’m dying over here.” Before I could open the video, a new message from Ava popped up at the top of my screen. [Can I call you?] My heart sank. I ripped off the face mask and dialed her number, completely forgetting about Julian. The call connected. After a moment of silence, I heard Ava’s choked, suppressed sobs. “I should have known,” she whispered. “They just wanted to make a fool of me. But I still went…” Her heartbroken cries tore at me. My phone kept buzzing—the “Heiress Club” group chat was going wild. Annoyed, I silenced the notifications without even looking at them. I listened as Ava poured out her story. The invitation was a setup. The other heiresses pretended to welcome her, but it was a trap. They plied her with alcohol, and she, not wanting to seem difficult, drank until she was dizzy. Then, as planned, they tripped her up, making her stumble and spill her drink, a spectacle of clumsiness. The friendly faces turned cruel. They took pictures, their laughter echoing around her as she begged them to stop. And then came the worst part. “I saw him,” Ava sobbed. “My… my brother. I wanted to ask him to take me home, or just to help me, but… but he just looked at me like I was trash. He said I was embarrassing, that I didn’t belong and should stop trying so hard.” “When I got home, my mother looked at me with the same disgust. She said I reeked of alcohol and was filthy. The dress was torn, and she just told the maid to throw it away.” “Why?” she cried. “What did I do wrong?” My heart shattered for her. I remembered how excited she had been, asking me about etiquette. She had gone to that party full of hope. Why would they do this to her? I soothed her over the phone until, exhausted from crying, she finally drifted off to sleep. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I sent a message to Leo. “Leo, I need a background check on someone.” If they were all going to hurt her, then I would be the one to protect her. Before he could reply, a notification flashed on my screen. [Dear Ms. Sterling, booking is now available for flight CM761…] I shot up in bed. The snow had stopped. I was going home. The plane landed, but my phone had died from low battery. Thankfully, I’d arranged for a driver. As I settled into the back of the extended Maybach, the driver spoke respectfully. “Miss Sterling, the Vance family is hosting a gala this evening. Your mother, Mr. Leo, and Mr. Thorne are all in attendance.” I rubbed my temples. “Take me there.” I arrived at the Vance estate and headed inside. Before I could even find Chloe, I saw a familiar figure across the room. I blinked, rubbing my eyes, but there was no mistake. It was Ava Jane, the girl I’d idolized for three years. The world was so small. The family she was trying to join was right here, in my city. I started towards her, but Chloe’s mocking voice cut through the air. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face here again. Wasn’t last time bad enough for you?” I frowned. So Chloe was the one who had been bullying her? Without a second thought, I walked over and stepped in front of Ava, shielding her. Chloe stared at me. “Summer? What the hell are you doing? Are you protecting her? Have you lost your mind?” Ava looked up, her eyes wide. I squeezed her hand and gave her a small, reassuring smile. Then I looked up and saw my mother, my brother, and Julian all walking towards us. Leo smiled warmly at me. “Summer, you didn’t answer my messages. Why did you suddenly ask me to run a check on that girl?” Before I could answer, Leo’s expression shifted. His gaze moved past me, to the person I was protecting. His face turned to ice. “Why are you with Summer?” he said, his voice cold. “Didn’t I tell you to stop reaching for things that don’t belong to you? Summer is my only sister.” I froze, my mind going blank. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. “What… did you say?” I finally managed to whisper. “Who… is she?”

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I bought myself a Koenigsegg. I was about to take my girlfriend, Jenna, to a car club gala—the perfect place to finally come clean about who I really was—when she snatched the keys from my hand. “Alex,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “A buddy of mine, his crew is doing a cruise through town. Do you think we could borrow your car? Just to make an impression.” I froze. “Jenna, this car was nearly four million dollars. It’s not really something I can just lend out.” Her eyes immediately welled up. “You can’t do this one thing for me? He never asks for anything.” Before I could answer, a guy with electric blue hair strolled into my private garage, nodding at Jenna. “Jenna, baby. This the boyfriend with the lame-ass driving skills you were telling me about?” My fists clenched. “Who let you in here?” He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Jenna, your boyfriend doesn’t even know who I am? I’m Ryder Stone. You know, the champion of this year’s Apex Rally?” His words hit me like a physical blow. Funny, I didn’t remember my three-time championship title being interrupted by this clown. 1 Jenna tossed the keys to Ryder. He didn’t hesitate, sliding into the driver’s seat and firing up the engine with a guttural roar. “Get out.” I grabbed the edge of the scissor door. “This is my car.” He just laughed, ignoring me completely. Jenna’s voice softened, turning pleading. “Alex, I’ve never asked you for anything…” For a split second, I felt a pang of weakness. But then I remembered the old saying: never lend out your car or your girl. My resolve hardened. “No.” I pulled out my phone to call the police, but Jenna snatched it, hiding it behind her back. Her eyes were red as she turned on me. “Do you have to make this so ugly? What’s the big deal if they borrow it for a couple of days?” Ryder, still in my car, sneered and pulled out his own phone. “You wanna play it that way?” He yelled into the receiver, “Boys! Get in here and check out the big shot’s ride!” The garage door slid open, and two guys reeking of stale beer stumbled in. One was bald with a mess of tattoos, the other wore a hideous Hawaiian shirt. They were holding selfie sticks. “Yo, what’s up, livestream!” the bald one shouted into his phone. “Check it out, a multi-million-dollar Koenigsegg! We’re about to show you how the other half lives!” In the chaos, Ryder gunned the engine. “Get out!” I lunged for the door, but the two goons grabbed me, holding me back. Ryder was laughing for his online audience. “Drop a hundred in the tip jar and I’ll get this baby up to one-fifty for you!” “Stop it!” I roared, struggling against their grip. “What’s the rush?” The bald guy shoved his selfie stick in my face. “Say hi to the camera! Let’s show everyone what the owner of a four-million-dollar car looks like when he’s being a little bitch!” The chat feed exploded with a stream of bile: “Damn, he looks like a Ken doll with a stick up his ass. So cheap.” “Look at that loser. Bet he drives it like a grandma.” “Where’d a punk like that get that kind of money? Daddy a crooked politician?” “Nah, he’s definitely some rich cougar’s boy toy.” “Let him go!” Jenna’s voice cut through the noise. A wave of relief washed over me. I thought she was finally coming to her senses. But then she said, “Alex, you should stand there and learn how a real pro drives! When it comes to skill, you’re not even worthy of washing his tires!” I stared at her, the words not computing. This was the woman I had loved for two years? I’d kept my real identity a secret, yes, but my love for her had been the truest thing in my life. How could she say that? Ryder honked the horn victoriously from inside the cockpit. The car screeched forward, and he started doing tight, aggressive donuts in the spacious garage, the smell of burning rubber filling the air. “See that?” The guy in the Hawaiian shirt slapped my back so hard I almost fell over. “That’s a burnout, buddy! Something a putz like you who only knows how to cruise has never experienced.” Jenna was frowning at me from the side. “Alex, why are you making that face? Can’t you just be a good sport about this?” Ryder slammed on the brakes, the car executing a perfect, beautiful drift before stopping inches from us. “How was that, Jenna? Better than your boyfriend, huh?” Jenna actually giggled. “Way better. You’re so much better than him.” Ryder’s laugh was greasy and loud. “Oh yeah? I bet I’m better in other ways, too.” Jenna playfully swatted at the air. “Oh, stop it!” she said, giving him a sultry look that made my stomach turn. A hot rage flooded my veins. “What the hell is going on between you two?” I demanded. 2 Jenna rolled her eyes at me like I was an idiot. “I told you, we’re just friends.” “You’re ‘just friends’ with these guys? A woman, with a crew like this? Do you have any concept of boundaries?” Her expression soured. “Are you from the Stone Age? Why are you so damn old-fashioned? You can’t even take a joke. Why can’t you be more like Ryder and his friends?” I was trembling with fury. “Be like them? You want me to be a thief who steals other people’s property?” Ryder heard me. His face hardened. He stomped on the accelerator, and the Koenigsegg shot toward one of the massive concrete support pillars of the garage. He swerved at the last possible second, the carbon fiber body missing the pillar by a whisper. “Ahh!” Jenna screamed, but it was a scream of exhilaration. “Ryder, that was so cool!” The bald guy and his friend whooped and cheered. “Ryder, you’re a legend!” The livestream chat was a waterfall of digital gifts and emojis. Ryder was beaming, pointing at me. “Jenna, what’s the point of being with a coward like this? Let me take you for a real ride.” He leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. And then, the moment that shattered everything. Jenna ran towards the car, her face lit up with pure joy. “Jenna!” I yelled, my voice raw. “If you get in that car with him, we are done!” She paused, her face clouded with annoyance. “Oh, my God, you are unbelievable. I’m just going for a spin with a champion driver. You’d break up with me over that? I’ll be back in a little while. Can you stop being such a baby?” Without another look at me, she slid into the passenger seat. Ryder let out a triumphant laugh, gave me a downward-pointing thumbs-up, and floored it. The car vanished out of the garage in a blur of motion and a scream of engine noise. “Whoa, did you see that, people?” the bald guy said, pointing his camera back at my stunned face. “The owner is just standing there like a statue! His girlfriend just took off with the champ!” The Hawaiian shirt guy nudged me with his elbow. “Hey, man, don’t take it so hard. Jenna and our boy Ryder, they’re a perfect match. You’re just… you know, the opening act.” I ground my teeth, my jaw aching. I was about to reach for my phone—my real phone, from my other pocket—when I saw the screen of the bald guy’s phone. It had switched to Ryder’s point-of-view, clearly being filmed by Jenna. The camera was angled on Ryder’s profile as he expertly shifted gears and weaved through traffic. “This car is insane, folks!” he shouted over the engine noise. “A total waste on that loser owner!” Jenna’s voice, full of adoration, chimed in. “Go faster, Ryder! Faster!” “You got it, baby! Hold on tight!” The two goons watched, mesmerized, occasionally glancing over to mock me. “Hey, Jenna told us you’re working with a real toothpick down there. Is that true?” The bald guy cackled. “Oh, I heard! Just like his driving—limp and boring!” The words were so vile, so degrading. I didn’t know if they were making it up or if Jenna had actually said that about me. Either way, it was unbearable. “Shut up,” I snarled through clenched teeth. “Ooh, defensive, are we?” the Hawaiian shirt guy added. “Why else do you think she’s so close with Ryder? He knows how to perform, if you know what I mean. Hahaha!” On the screen, Ryder was steering with one hand. His other hand… it moved and draped itself around Jenna’s shoulders. She didn’t push him away. Instead, she giggled and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Whoa! We’ve got live-action romance, people!” the bald guy yelled into his phone. Then, Jenna tilted her head up and planted a kiss on Ryder’s cheek. He laughed, turning his head to catch her lips in a deep, sloppy kiss. My brain short-circuited. A girlfriend who would do that? Why was I even hesitating? It was over. What was I waiting for? An engraved invitation to my own public humiliation? 3 There was something naggingly familiar about Ryder’s arrogant face. I knew I’d seen him somewhere before, and it definitely wasn’t on a rally podium. While the two goons were distracted by the livestream, I discreetly pulled up some information on Ryder Stone. And what I found was very, very interesting. I dialed 911. “Hello, my Koenigsegg has been stolen by a man named Ryder Stone. He’s currently driving recklessly through the city, speeding…” Before I could finish, the bald guy rushed me, slapping the phone out of my hand. “Fuck! You little snitch, you actually called the cops?!” “You really don’t know when to quit!” He stomped on my phone, crushing it on the concrete floor. The Hawaiian shirt guy grabbed me in a chokehold and dragged me backward while the bald one quickly called Ryder. Less than five minutes later, the Koenigsegg screeched back into the garage. Ryder leaped out, storming toward me, and drove his fist straight into my gut. “You want to die, you piece of shit?” Jenna walked up to me then. She didn’t check if I was okay. She didn’t show a flicker of concern. Instead, she slapped me hard across the face. “Alex! You coward! It was a small thing, did you really have to blow it up like this?” I clutched my stomach, the pain a white-hot nova. I looked at the woman I once loved, her face now twisted into an ugly, unfamiliar mask. Ryder spat on the floor and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Looks like we have to teach you a lesson you won’t forget. Tie him up!” I struggled, but it was two against one. “Ryder, what do we do now?” the bald guy asked. Before Ryder could answer, the doorbell to the main house rang. A flicker of hope ignited in me. I tried to make a sound. Ryder’s face changed, and he shot me a venomous look. “Jenna, you go talk to them.” He then nodded to the Hawaiian shirt guy. “You go with her. Make it look convincing.” I could hear a police officer’s voice through the door. “We received a report about a stolen vehicle?” The Hawaiian shirt guy’s voice, suddenly friendly and calm, answered. “Oh, that was me, officer! Total misunderstanding! My friend just took the car out without asking, and I kind of freaked out and called you guys. He just brought it back. Everything’s fine now.” Jenna immediately backed him up. “My boyfriend just has a bit of a temper!” The police saw the car, parked and undamaged. They took some notes and left. The second the door closed, their true natures returned. They dragged me out from behind a stack of storage bins and threw me to the ground. Ryder kicked me hard in the stomach, and my vision swam with black spots. Jenna stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching with cold indifference. “Hey, tough guy,” the Hawaiian shirt guy sneered, squatting down to pat my cheek. “Not so tough now, are you? Did you learn your lesson?” 4 They had gagged me, so I couldn’t scream the curses I was thinking, but I made sure my eyes conveyed all the hatred I felt. “Ooh, still defiant?” the bald one grinned. “Boys, I think he needs a little something extra to help him cool off.” Ryder grinned cruelly and started to unbuckle his pants. “I’ve been holding it in. Thought I’d give you a taste of some golden champagne, cool you off!” A hot, foul stream rained down on me, soaking my hair and shirt. The humiliation was so absolute, so suffocating, I nearly passed out. “Hahaha!” The two goons roared with laughter. Jenna actually let out a snort of amusement. “Ryder is a rally champion. It’s an honor for him to even drive your car. You really don’t know what’s good for you.” Ryder zipped up his pants and kicked me again. “Can’t handle that? Oh, the fun is just getting started.” He motioned to his friends. “Go to town on him. Don’t hit the face, but make sure he remembers this. Teach him some respect.” A storm of fists and feet descended on my back, my stomach, my ribs. I curled into a ball, each blow punctuated by their vile taunts and crazed laughter. “Think you’re hot shit with your fancy car?” “Useless coward!” And through it all, Jenna never said a word to stop them. When they finally got tired, they stopped. Ryder nudged me with his shoe. “Kid, let this be a lesson. We’re taking the car. If you dare call the cops again, it’ll be a lot worse than a beating and a golden shower. Got it?” The Hawaiian shirt guy asked, “Ryder, what about him?” Ryder stretched, satisfied. “Just leave him tied up. Keep him out of trouble.” Jenna added, “Yeah, that way we can have some fun for a couple of days without him bothering us.” Ryder wrapped his arm around Jenna’s waist. “Let’s go, baby. I know a place where we can have a real good time.” Just as they were about to leave, there was a sharp, authoritative knock at the door. The laughter died instantly. Ryder’s face soured. “Don’t tell me the cops came back.” His friends looked nervous, exchanging glances. “Quick! Shove him back there!” They scrambled to drag me back into the corner, behind the storage bins. Just before they stuffed the gag back in my mouth, I yelled at Ryder, “Your good times are over!” My words made him pause, then his face contorted with rage. He rushed over and kicked me viciously one last time. “You son of a bitch! You dare curse me? I’ll deal with you later!” The moment the door opened, the smile on Ryder’s face froze. He stood there as if he’d been turned to stone.

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