Category: English

My best friend made me pumpkin puree. I poured it straight into my pregnant dog’s bowl. Because I’ve been reborn. In my last life, she bound me to a “Harvest System.” Every time I ate the food she prepared, the baby growing inside me would be transferred to her womb, to be born as her own. She had married into a powerful family, one that hadn’t produced a male heir in three generations. Her in-laws were desperate for a grandson. But she was barren. So she turned her predatory gaze to me, her newly married best friend. I managed to get pregnant, a miracle I cherished, but after every meal she brought me, I would suffer a devastating miscarriage. While I mourned, she gave birth to four sons, one after another, basking in the adoration of her husband and his family, her triumph a cruel mirror to my grief. In the end, she and her husband framed me for adultery, shattering my reputation. My own in-laws threw me out onto the street with nothing. I starved to death, alone and forgotten. But now, I’m back. She wants a child, does she? Well, stealing mine is no fun. This time, I’m going to give her some far more… unique “treasures.” 1 I opened my eyes to the sound of a doctor confirming my pregnancy. Three months along. Right on schedule. Before I could even process the news, a steaming thermos of chicken soup was placed in front of me. “Elara, pregnancy must be so exhausting for you.” The voice belonged to my best friend, Seraphina. A pampered trophy wife, draped in silk and dripping with jewels. “I knew something was up when you lost your appetite,” she chirped, her smile never quite reaching her eyes. “Here, I made this soup just for you. It’s delicious. Go on, have a taste.” I met her gaze, my jaw tight, and made no move to take the bowl. A sharp sigh came from my other side. It was my mother-in-law, rolling her eyes. “Elara, what are you waiting for? Drink it. Don’t be so ungrateful. Sera is so good to you, always thinking of you.” A nearby nurse chimed in. “She’s right. If I’d married into a family like that, I’d have forgotten all my old friends. Seraphina has a heart of gold.” “I heard she even made that pumpkin puree by hand. A friendship like that is so rare these days.” “She’s as beautiful as she is kind. Her children will be just as wonderful, I’m sure.” Seraphina offered them a gracious, practiced smile before turning back to me, ladling a bowl of the glistening soup and holding it to my lips as if I were a child. “Drink it while it’s hot. I was up at four this morning, simmering it for eight whole hours. If you don’t like it, I can make you a squab broth instead?” A cold wave of memory washed over me. In my past life, the joy of learning I was pregnant had been fleeting. I drank her soup, and by that night, I was cramping, bleeding, losing my child. My husband took me for every test imaginable, but the results were always the same: my body was perfectly healthy. There was no medical reason for the miscarriages. And that was only the beginning. I conceived three more times. I lost them all. Each time, the doctors were baffled. No gynecological issues, no identifiable cause. I nearly went mad trying to understand why. Why couldn’t I hold onto my precious babies? It was my mother-in-law who found the “answer,” watching our home security footage. She saw me—or a version of me—leaping around the house, jumping on furniture, even punching my own stomach, as if desperate to destroy the life inside me. But it wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t. I was always so careful, treating my body like a fragile temple. I guarded my diet, my every move. I would never have done those things. I pleaded, I swore I was innocent, but my husband and his parents were convinced I’d lost my mind. They had me committed. The doctors diagnosed me with schizophrenia. Then, to seal my fate, a strange man appeared, claiming we were lovers. He told everyone the reason I’d killed my four unborn children was because I refused to give my husband an heir, saving myself for him alone. I was cast out, divorced, and stripped of every penny and piece of identification I owned. I died under a freeway overpass, my last sensation the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. Only when my soul drifted free did I see the truth. It was all Seraphina, and the “Harvest System” she had bound to me. 2 The memory was so vivid it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I turned my head, gently pushing the bowl away. The greasy scent of the soup suddenly churned my stomach, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat. “I don’t think I can.” My refusal, public and stark, wiped the smile from her face. Her expression hardened. Before she could speak, my mother-in-law shot me a look of pure contempt. “Elara Vance, don’t you dare be rude! Seraphina got up at the crack of dawn to make this for you. You used to beg for her soup. What’s with the theatrics now?” The nurses started whispering amongst themselves. “Seriously, some people don’t know how lucky they are. If I had a friend like that, I’d drink the whole pot.” “The soup will get cold and lose all its nutrients. What a waste. That bitch is just putting on a show.” “She’s just trying to feel superior, making a scene to put Seraphina in her place.” My mother-in-law looked ready to lunge at me, but Seraphina smoothly stepped between us, shielding me. Then, with a look of saintly concern, she produced a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade. “Elara, it was my fault. I should have been more thoughtful,” she said, her voice a soft, apologetic murmur. “I brought this, too. Maybe this will help.” She pushed the glass toward me. My mother-in-law scoffed, then immediately softened her tone as she looked at Seraphina. “Oh no, honey, you can’t give her that. You have a cold. The doctor said you need the vitamin C. You drink it.” Seraphina shook her head, her performance of self-sacrifice unwavering. “Elara told me she’s been craving sour things. This is perfect for her nausea. I’ll be fine.” If I didn’t know the poison that lurked beneath her perfect facade, I might have been moved. I might have taken the glass. But looking at her now, all I felt was a tidal wave of hatred so powerful I wanted to tear her limb from limb. My first instinct was to throw the lemonade in the trash, to cut her out of my life completely and protect my baby. But as I turned, my eyes fell on the dog my husband was cradling—our pregnant golden retriever. Her belly was round and full; she was carrying at least five or six pups. I looked back at Seraphina, who was watching me with an unnervingly intense, calculating gaze. A wild, venomous thought sparked in my mind. If the dog ate the food she made… would the puppies in its belly end up in hers? I decided to run an experiment. I pushed the lemonade back into Seraphina’s hand, forcing down my revulsion. “I’ve been throwing up all morning. I don’t think I can handle anything acidic right now.” I gestured to the thermos. “And it would be a shame to waste that soup after all your hard work.” Just then, another pregnant woman who had just finished her appointment spotted us. “Sera? Is that really you? It’s me, from college! We were good friends, remember?” She gave Seraphina an enthusiastic once-over. “Did you make this soup yourself?” Her eyes lit up. “I still remember the food you used to bring from home back on campus. It was amazing. I haven’t had your cooking in ages. Could I… maybe have a taste?” I sized the woman up. She was plain, with rough skin and a short, stout frame. I remembered Seraphina mentioning a classmate who’d been a terrible student and dropped out. 3 This was a gift from the heavens. Seraphina’s face cycled through shades of green and white. She instinctively tried to hide the bowl of soup behind her back. “Oh, um… I can’t. This is for Elara,” she stammered. The woman just laughed, completely unfazed. “What’s the big deal? I just saw her refuse it. She didn’t even take a sip. Let me have it. I don’t mind leftovers.” A nurse joined in, trying to smooth things over. “Exactly. You worked so hard on it. Someone like Elara doesn’t deserve it.” “Just give it to someone else. You don’t need to be so nice to her.” Seraphina’s fists clenched, her knuckles white. Her face grew paler. Just as the standoff reached its peak, her husband, Ethan, appeared at her side. “Nobody’s drinking that soup,” he announced with an easy charm. “I was rushing through the kitchen this morning and knocked over the salt shaker. The whole thing went right into the pot. I was in a hurry and forgot to tell Sera. I’m sure it’s inedibly salty by now.” He scratched his head, a picture of sheepish apology. “Alright, alright, no big deal about the soup. Tell you what, I’ll treat everyone to lunch to make up for it. My apologies.” And just like that, with a simple lie, Ethan defused the entire situation. So, my theory was correct. The system worked on anyone who ate the food she prepared. They were deliberately screening for a mother who was intelligent and beautiful to bear their stolen child. It just so happened that next month, I was scheduled to volunteer at an upscale animal shelter. The director mentioned they had several pregnant dogs who were always ravenous, constantly scavenging for food, even in the middle of the night. I planned to spend a couple of days there. If I could bring all of Seraphina’s “gifts” with me… wouldn’t that be perfect? I was about to ask her for some of her famous homemade pumpkin puree when she beat me to it. “Elara, since the soup and lemonade won’t work, I also brought you a jar of my pumpkin puree. It’s packed with nutrients for expectant mothers.” I smiled faintly, and she immediately pressed the beautifully packaged jar into my hands. Onlookers gasped in admiration. One of the nurses gave her a thumbs-up. “My god, you should be nominated for Best Friend of the Year.” Seraphina blushed demurely, covering her mouth with her hand. “Elara’s just hit the three-month mark; it’s a critical time. She’s my best friend. Of course, I have to take care of her. A best friend is family. I’d do anything for her.” People shot me envious looks, wishing they had a friend as devoted as mine. I remembered my past life, my soul hovering near her ceiling as she complained to Ethan. “This fourth one isn’t nearly as handsome as I’d hoped. We should have reset the system with someone else.” Seraphina, applying her makeup flawlessly, had laughed. “Whatever. I only wanted one of her kids anyway, but the stupid girl just kept getting pregnant. It was her body taking the damage, not mine. Popping out a kid felt like nothing. A few free sons aren’t so bad, I guess.” She’d paused, a cruel smirk on her face. “It was kind of fun, actually. It’s a shame she died so soon. I could have kept playing for much longer.” 4 Her bottomless cruelty, her absolute lack of a soul, had led to my horrific end. Why? What right did she have to do that to me? Now that she was handing me the bait herself, I didn’t even have to ask. I placed the jar of pumpkin puree in my bag. Seraphina’s expression flickered with anxiety. “Elara, it’s really delicious. Aren’t you going to open it and try some now?” I smiled and took her hand. “It’s because it’s so good that I want to save it and savor it at home.” She opened her mouth to argue, but the people around us erupted in criticism aimed at me. “What a fake. It’s obvious she doesn’t want it. Why take it, then?” “I know what she’s doing. That puree is in a fancy jar. Homemade stuff like that sells for a lot online. I bet she’s planning to sell it.” “Exactly. She’s trying to profit off her own best friend. How disgusting.” At this point, I didn’t care what strangers thought of me. In this new life, my happiness came first. I would do whatever I wanted. But Seraphina stuck to me like glue. “Elara, you’ve been sick all day. You have to eat something. It’s not good for you or the baby. Please, just eat it. Don’t be polite with me.” She looked genuinely worried, her act flawless. Ethan’s face darkened beside her. “Elara, why won’t you even open it? What’s the matter? You don’t think we’re trying to poison you, do you?” His question stopped me cold. What others thought didn’t matter, but I couldn’t afford to spook these two. If they suspected I knew their secret, they’d take the puree away, and my plan for revenge would be ruined. Worse, if they realized I knew the truth, they would never let me live. They were monsters in my last life; I had to protect myself and my baby in this one. What could I do? After a moment’s thought, I slowly unscrewed the jar. I scooped a small spoonful of the puree and placed it in my mouth. Seraphina and Ethan exchanged a satisfied smile. I smiled back. “Sera, you’re too good to me. I’m so lucky to have a friend like you. Thank you for caring so much.” After a few more pleasantries, they left, arm in arm. The moment they were gone, I booked an ultrasound. Thank God, the baby was still there. I had put the puree in my mouth, but I had hidden it under my tongue, spitting it into a tissue when I pretended to wipe my lips. I had only taken that one spoonful; the rest of the jar was safely in my bag. I went straight home from the hospital and began plotting my next move. But as soon as I lay down, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Seraphina standing there, holding a tissue. A tissue with a smear of orange puree on it. “Elara, did you not swallow the pumpkin puree? I found this in the trash can by the elevator.” She stared at me, her eyes cold and sharp. My heart hammered against my ribs. Had she figured me out? Before I could answer, Ethan, who was standing behind her, clutched his head and collapsed, falling directly onto me. I screamed. As his dead weight pressed me down, I shoved him off. He blinked his eyes open, feigning weakness, and sat up. He popped a piece of candy into his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Elara,” he mumbled, his voice shaky. “Is the baby okay? We should get you to the hospital, just in case.” “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I think my blood sugar just crashed.” I was seething. My husband and mother-in-law rushed out at the commotion and insisted on taking me back to the hospital. Under the guise of concern, Seraphina stood beside me the entire time, her eyes glued to the ultrasound monitor, scrutinizing every word on the report. The baby was perfectly fine. I shot her a cold look. “What? Is there a problem?” She frowned. “No, of course not. I was just so worried Ethan might have hurt you. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind when we get home.” I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. Her act was seamless. It was painfully obvious she was just checking to see if my baby was still there. She pressed me again, asking why I hadn’t eaten the puree. I told her I had, but the nausea came back and I’d thrown it all up. Insisting it was for my own good, Seraphina ordered three entire crates of her pumpkin puree and had them delivered to my house by truck. Perfect. The puppies’ gourmet feast had arrived. I couldn’t help but wonder… after all those dogs ate her puree, what kind of “precious babies” would start growing inside Seraphina’s womb?

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My brother sent a text to his girlfriend, but it came to me by mistake: “Babe, I’m at the school entrance. Where are you?” I narrowed my eyes, a malicious smile creeping onto my face. “Babe, I just got out of my last final.” The chat bubble showed he was typing… then stopped. I kept going. “Babe, did you wait for me so we could go home together? I’m so touched!” “Babe, why aren’t you answering?” He finally snapped: “Are you insane? That’s enough!” Five minutes later, a Venmo notification popped up. “I’m begging you, don’t tell Mom and Dad I’m dating someone.” 1 The SATs were over. As I walked out of the testing center, I switched my phone off airplane mode. Notifications exploded. Just as I cleared them all, a text from my brother, Alex, popped up. “Babe, I’m at the school entrance. Where are you?” I physically recoiled. My brow furrowed. What kind of fever dream was this? I stared at the text, mulling it over. Then I remembered, a few weeks ago, I’d overheard him on the phone, calling someone “babe.” I’d always suspected he was dating someone, but I never had proof. When I’d ask, he’d just give me that arrogant denial. Today, he’d delivered the evidence right to my doorstep. A wicked smile spread across my face. I typed out a reply: “Babe, I just got out of my last final.” Calling my brother “babe” made me want to gag, but the thought of how much it was freaking him out made it all worthwhile. The second I hit send, his chat bubble appeared: Alex is typing… It popped up. Disappeared. Popped up again. Ten minutes passed. I had walked all the way from the testing hall to the school’s front gate, and he still hadn’t replied. He was playing dead. Trying to ignore it. Hoping I’d just let it slide. I wasn’t about to be that nice. “Babe, did you wait for me so we could go home together? I’m so touched!” “Babe, you’re the best!” I laid it on thick. “Babe, why aren’t you answering?” 【Babe???】 Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. His reply was furious: “Chloe, are you insane? That’s enough!” I laughed at the screen. “Babe, I think someone’s in a relationship!” “I bet Mom and Dad would be very interested to know.” Five minutes later. A Venmo notification. $50. His tone was a pathetic grovel: “I’m begging you, don’t tell Mom and Dad.” I remained unmoved. I didn’t accept the money. I didn’t reply. I could already see Alex standing at the gate. I had to admit, my brother hit the genetic lottery. Even in a crowd of students, his face and build made him stand out. I slowed down, hiding behind a nearby pillar. I wanted to see who this girlfriend was. I waited five or six minutes. No girlfriend appeared. Instead, someone… unexpected. A guy in a white t-shirt and black pants coasted up on a bike, stopping next to Alex. Sharp, handsome features. A clean, crisp aura. When he smiled, his profile was brighter than the summer sun. Leo. Our school’s “King,” and my brother’s best friend. Top-tier looks, top-tier brain. Half the girls in our grade were in love with him. As valedictorian, he’d already gotten early admission to Yale. He just stood there, and a crowd of eyes was drawn to him. He was so good-looking it made me dizzy. From my hiding spot, I saw Alex and Leo chatting, but Alex kept scanning the crowd. I ducked, avoiding his gaze. A moment later, a girl with a high ponytail bounced up and grabbed my brother’s arm, smiling sweetly up at him. I immediately pulled out my phone and hit record. I recognized the girl’s face. Jenna. A well-known beauty in the art program. Damn it. My brother was eating good. 2 I took a video. I took photos. I sent one of the photos to Alex. From a distance, I saw him look down at his phone, his expression souring. My phone buzzed. “You like Leo, don’t you?” “I’ll help you get him.” I raised an eyebrow. He was using that to negotiate? To shut me up? Leo and I are neighbors. He’s always been nicer to me than my own brother. Good-looking, smart, good family. Not only was he sweet to me, but he also gave me little gifts all the time. It was hard not to like him. He was a natural charmer. I was only human. I sent back an “OK” emoji. Then, I walked out, jogging over to them, pretending I’d just spotted them. “Alex!” My brother looked at me, his face grumpy. Jenna quickly let go of his arm, blushing as she said hi. Leo just smiled at me. “How’d the test go?” “Pretty good,” I smiled back. I looked at their faces. “You guys have plans?” Leo nodded. “Yeah.” My brother’s voice was cold. “We’re busy. You go home.” I ignored his dismissal. “Can I come? I’m bored now that exams are over.” I aimed the question at Leo. “Please?” He was a head taller than me. He looked down, his handsome eyes crinkling at the corners, and smiled. “Sure,” he agreed, his voice gentle. “No!” That was Alex. “Chloe, you’re not invited. Stop trying to butt in.” I just stared at him. The atmosphere turned awkward. Jenna tugged on his sleeve. “It’s fine, really…” Leo spoke up too. “Let her come, Alex. It’ll be more fun. She’s not a stranger.” My brother suppressed his annoyance and bit out, “Fine. Whatever.” He grabbed Jenna’s hand and stormed off ahead. Leo patted the top of my head, then leaned in close, his voice low. “Don’t be upset. He just… doesn’t know how to act around you.” My heart skipped. His closeness was overwhelming, surrounding me in his scent. He smelled like fresh laundry. I didn’t answer him. 3 Alex and I are twins. We’ve had a terrible relationship our entire lives. Arguing and fighting were daily. Being loving siblings was a fantasy. When we were five, he “lost” me. I was gone for five years. I was lucky, “adopted” by a kind family. When my parents finally found me at age ten, I stood in front of them and accused Alex of abandoning me on purpose. All I got was their defensiveness. “You’re remembering it wrong.” “Your brother isn’t like that.” “It was an accident.” “You need to stop blaming him, do you understand?” From that day on, I hated my brother. I hated Alex. At my worst, I’d wish for him to fall down the stairs, to choke on his water, to be struck by lightning… These five years of separation didn’t earn me more love from my parents. It earned me… distance. They thought I wasn’t the “sweet, cute” girl I used to be. They thought my five lost years had “ruined” me. Petty. Spiteful. Ungrateful. Low-class. Those were their private assessments of me. I’d heard them. Late at night, unable to sleep in my new-old house, I’d gone looking for them and overheard them talking in the living room. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to my skull. I choked back my sobs, crying in the dark. I saw a crack of light from the room next to mine. My brother’s door. He had heard it too. Through my tears, I saw him hesitate, wanting to approach me, then pulling back. When he finally took a step toward me, I fled to my room and locked the door. After that night, I learned to be “good.” I learned to pretend. 4 I followed them to dinner. At the table, Leo took good care of me, constantly putting food on my plate. My brother was miles away, lost in thought. Probably plotting how to kick me out. Jenna was mid-bite when she suddenly dropped her chopsticks and waved at the door. I turned. My heart sank to my stomach. Bianca. The person I hated most in the world. She was the girl my parents brought home to replace me during those five years. When I first came back, I raised hell to get her out of my house. My brother knew exactly how much I despised her. So, all these years, they’d been in contact behind my back. They were so close they had their own little friend group. I shot a hateful glare at Alex. He was looking right at me, his expression cold and mocking. “I told you not to come. You insisted.” His words were always so sharp. Leo frowned, kicking my brother under the table. “Alex!” he warned. I swallowed my anger, staring at Leo’s profile. My heart ached, but it was a sweet ache. He was the only one who defended me. Bianca walked over, all smiles. “Sorry I’m late!” Her eyes landed on me, and her smile faltered. Her expression became cautious, surprised. “Chloe? You’re here too?” Maybe I’m biased. Maybe I’m just sensitive. But her tone felt… wrong. Like she was implying I shouldn’t be there. I’ve never been nice to her. But in public, especially with Leo here, I always kept my cool. I forced a tight smile and a nod. Bianca looked at the seating, feigning confusion. “Where should I sit?” Leo gestured to the spot next to him. “Here, sit by me.” It was a six-person table. I was sitting next to Leo. Alex and Jenna were across from us. Bianca could have easily sat on their side. When Leo said that, my smile collapsed. “Great! These are all my favorites.” Bianca slid into the seat on Leo’s left, beaming at the dishes. She ate with gusto. “So, how’d everyone do on the SATs? Are we feeling good?” “We all promised we’d end up at the same college, remember? No backing out!” She chattered on. My brother laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m good.” Jenna chimed in, “I think I did okay too.” Leo just smiled. “Well, you guys have fun. I’ll be all alone at Yale.” “Oh, shut up, you’re flexing on us,” Bianca teased. “Yeah, seriously! No Ivy Leaguers allowed in this conversation!” They laughed, talking about shared memories and inside jokes I wasn’t part of. Their easy rapport was an invisible barrier, walling me out. I ate in silence. The food tasted like ash. Half the dishes on the table, the ones Leo had ordered… Were all Bianca’s favorites. Listening to their laughter, I stared at my teacup. I’d ordered tea out of habit. They all had sodas. I was the odd one out. I watched the film of oil on the surface of my tea and felt sick. So, Alex, Leo, and Bianca were this… trio. Even Jenna and Bianca seemed like old friends. But I, the twin sister, had only just met my brother’s girlfriend. And only because I’d caught them. I was the fifth wheel at their four-person party. I was his sister. I’d known Leo first. But I was the one who didn’t belong. 5 “Chloe, what college are you aiming for?” Noticing my silence, Leo brought me into the conversation. I looked up, meeting his eyes. They held that familiar, gentle smile. I loved his eyes. Smiling, soft, and when he looked at you, so focused. Like you were the only person in the world. I knew I wasn’t special. I knew he was just polite, nice to everyone. But I was greedy. I wanted to be the only one. I only wanted him to be nice to me. I held his gaze and slowly said two words. “Yale.” The table went silent. Bianca laughed. “Chloe, you’re joking, right?” My brother just studied me, thinking. Jenna played along. “Aim high!” Leo’s eyebrows lifted, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Then I’ll wait for you at Yale.” Bianca’s face fell. She kept her smile frozen as she asked Alex, “Is Chloe’s… score usually that high?” Alex nodded faintly. “Top ten in the grade.” He glanced at me, then added, “But Yale is still a stretch.” Now Bianca’s smile was genuine again. “Well, good luck, Chloe.” Hmph. I looked down, hiding my cold smirk. This whole table was so fake.

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Before our wedding, on the day he was supposed to pick up my dress, Anson Forrester was kidnapped. He survived, but he forgot me. The doctors said any mention of our wedding would trigger a seizure, a symptom of a dissociative fugue—a second personality born from the trauma. Just as I found out I was pregnant, the doctor offered a sliver of hope. “The arrival of a child might be the very thing to awaken the man who loves you so deeply!” I clutched the ultrasound printout, my heart filled with a fragile hope, and went to find him. But as I approached his study, I overheard him laughing with his friends. “Anson, you’re a genius. Faking a second personality to get out of a wedding? What’s next, a third? A fourth?” “No,” Anson’s voice was cold, decisive. “I love Sienna. This is the only time I’ll ever lie to her. I’ll stop after I’ve bagged another ten.” “Only ten? That’s barely enough to try out all the positions. I say you keep this up for a year or two. Sienna Blake isn’t going to marry anyone else.” His voice dropped, sharp and commanding. “I can’t stand to see her sad for that long. Now, are you going to find me some girls or not? I want them wild, but fresh. A new one every three days. This can’t delay my wedding to Sienna.” My hands shook as I tore the ultrasound printout to shreds. Then I turned and called the clinic to schedule an abortion. 1 When the doctor saw me return, she assumed I was feeling unwell. When I told her I wanted to terminate the pregnancy, her eyes widened in disbelief. “But this baby was a miracle for you two. If you go through with this, the shock could make your fiancé’s condition even worse!” I shook my head, a bitter smile on my lips. “If he knew, he’s the one who’d never recover.” After all, he was too busy enjoying his newfound freedom, playing the field without a care in the world. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. The same man who had begged me to marry him was faking an illness to deceive me. The doctor couldn’t change my mind. As she prepared the consent forms, she insisted on calling Anson. “Miss Blake, this child isn’t just yours. Even if his illness makes him not want a child right now, he should be here to sign the forms, to be with you. And if there’s been some misunderstanding, you can clear it up face-to-face…” I gently touched my stomach and didn’t stop her. I have PCOS; getting pregnant was a battle. Anson had never cared. He’d fought with his own parents just to marry me. Now, as I was about to let our child go, he deserved to be here for the farewell. But the moment the doctor began to speak, Anson’s laugh, cold and sharp, cut through the phone. “How much did Sienna Blake pay you for this little performance? I’ve told you, I don’t know her, let alone plan on marrying her.” “And please, tell her to stop with these pathetic tricks. For all I know, the kid isn’t even mine.” The dial tone echoed his cruel dismissal in the quiet room. I signed the forms myself and closed my eyes. When I woke up, my phone was filled with messages. All from Anson. 【Whatever we were before, it’s over. I’m me, you’re you. Instead of wasting your energy hiring actors to trick me, you should be moving your things out of my house.】 He had thoughtfully rented a fully furnished apartment for me in the same complex. He’d even paid the first month’s rent and signed a year-long lease so I wouldn’t be suspicious. 【Consider it a parting gift. You don’t owe me anything for it.】 I glanced at the bloody, formless tissue in the medical tray beside my bed and typed a calm reply. 【Okay. Thank you.】 The rent could be his final contribution to the child he never wanted. He didn’t contact me for the three days I was in the hospital. But his social media was a constant stream of parties and nightlife, as if he were desperately trying to reclaim the wild youth he’d sacrificed for me. I knew he was posting it for me to see. On my burner account, which he didn’t know about, his profile was silent. So I gave him what he wanted. I liked every single video. On the day I was discharged, I saw him and a doctor rushing a gurney down the hall. He glanced at me, then quickly looked away, pretending he hadn’t seen me. But I heard the paramedic’s urgent voice. “Prep OR 1 and get me Rh-negative blood, stat! The patient has a ruptured corpus luteum with major internal bleeding. We need to operate now!” “What? There’s none in stock?” The paramedic hung up and gave Anson the news. The man who had just ignored me suddenly stopped, spun around, and ran towards me. “Sienna, if you donate blood for Raina, I’ll overlook the fact that you’re stalking me.” I was stunned. “I’m not stalking you…” “Enough! Just save it! We don’t have time for this!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the doctor. “She’s Rh-negative. Take whatever you need.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. A cold laugh escaped my lips. “You don’t even know me, remember? How would you know I have a rare blood type?” I stared at him, waiting for his answer. 2 Anson ran a hand through his hair, his voice sharp with impatience. “Is this really the time for that? You’re the one who keeps saying we were in love for six years. Is it so strange that my subconscious would remember something that important in a crisis?” But I had just had an abortion. I was still bleeding. How could I possibly donate blood? And even if I could, why should I clean up his mess? “I just had a miscarriage. I can’t donate. Find someone else.” Anson’s face twisted in anger. “Sienna, you go on and on about how much you love me, but when I ask for one favor, you make up a lie like that? A miscarriage? Seriously?” “I can’t believe you’re the kind of person who would let someone die. No wonder I can’t remember ever loving you.” He was right. If he had ever truly loved me, he wouldn’t have faked an illness to cheat on me. He wouldn’t be blind to the deathly pallor of my face. And he certainly wouldn’t be forcing me to donate blood to his lover. A monitor beside us started beeping erratically. The paramedic, not wanting to waste another second, rushed the patient into the emergency room. Anson tried to drag me with them, but I held my ground. In a fit of rage, he slung me over his shoulder. “Sienna, whether you like it or not, you’re doing this. I’ll owe you one. Hell, I’ll marry you on our original wedding day if I have to!” All the fight went out of me. He had saved my life once, long ago. I would consider this my final repayment of that debt. As I watched my blood flow into the bag, my heart turned to ice. The moment the donation was finished, Anson grabbed the bag and sprinted with the nurse toward the operating room. I whispered to his retreating back, “Anson, we’re even now.” A wave of dizziness washed over me as I stepped out of the room. The world went black. When I woke up, the doctor looked like she wanted to scold me, but her anger melted into a sigh. “You need to take care of yourself. After this, you can’t donate blood again for at least six months.” I smiled and said I would. As the doctor left, a young nurse whispered to her, “Why didn’t you tell her we couldn’t reach her emergency contact? What if she thinks…” “She won’t. That girl sees everything with perfect clarity. It’s a shame her heart fell on the wrong man.” I picked up my phone. The doctor had tried calling Anson over a dozen times. He hadn’t answered a single one. Instead, he’d sent a text. 【Sienna, can you stop with the drama? Know your place.】 In that moment, I was grateful he hadn’t picked up. I couldn’t imagine the vile words he would have used to humiliate me. I didn’t reply. I stayed in that hospital bed for a full day before I had the strength to walk. The sun was bright outside, so I went to the hospital’s rooftop garden. There, I ran into Anson’s friends. They were all holding flowers and fruit baskets. For a second, I thought they were for me, and I instinctively turned to leave. But they surrounded me, their eyes raking over my hospital gown with amusement. “Well, well. Heard Anson was at the hospital with his new girlfriend, so you decided to check in and play the victim?” “You donated a little blood. Do you really have to be so dramatic?” “I’ll give you this, though, the makeup is pretty convincing. You look genuinely sick. I always said you were a manipulative bitch, but Anson never believed us…” Anson’s friends had never thought I was good enough for him. If he hadn’t forced them to call me their “sister-in-law,” they never would have accepted me. Now, with his approval, they could finally say what they really thought. Anson himself came up to join them. He saw me and froze, his brow furrowing. “Sienna, are you serious?” “I already agreed to marry you. Did you really have to bribe a doctor to admit you just so you could spy on me? Do you have any idea how suffocating you are?” “Let me be honest. If you act like this after we’re married, we’ll be divorced in a year.” 3 “Don’t trouble yourself. I don’t need you to marry me.” For six years, I had given him his freedom. When he wanted to drink with his friends, I waited patiently, never rushing him. If it was an occasion where I wasn’t welcome, I’d leave the moment he asked and be there to pick him up later, no matter the hour. I took care of him when he was drunk, without complaint. When he wanted to take a trip with his buddies, I booked their tickets and planned their itinerary. He even offered me his phone to check, but I never did. I loved him. And I didn’t want to repeat the tragedy of my own parents’ divorce, caused by my mother’s suffocating need for control. I thought I had managed our relationship perfectly. Before his accident, we were as passionate as newlyweds. But now, I was learning that my love had suffocated him. So was that it? Was that the real reason he faked an illness—for a thrill, for an escape? Our eyes met, and I saw not a flicker of affection for me. The questions I wanted to scream at him died in my throat. He saw the look on my face and his frown deepened. He snatched a bouquet of lilies from his friend and shoved it into my arms. “Alright, stop playing hard to get. You won. Take the flowers and go.” He thought I was the same girl who could be placated with a small gift. He didn’t believe for a second that the woman who had sworn she’d marry no one else would actually walk away. I handed the flowers back to his friend. “These are for his girlfriend. It wouldn’t be right for me to take them.” “I donated the blood willingly. You really don’t have to force yourself to marry me.” A strange panic flickered in Anson’s eyes. Shouldn’t Sienna be overjoyed? Why did she keep insisting he didn’t have to marry her? Was she actually angry? “Sienna, I…” he started, a hint of desperation in his voice. His friends started coughing pointedly, and he quickly changed his tune. “Sienna, I’m a man of my word.” I just smiled. “You should get back to your girlfriend.” “I’m going to go get discharged now.” My calm acceptance seemed to unnerve him even more. He felt that something about me was different today, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. His friends, seeing his hesitation, threw their arms around his shoulders and dragged him away. “Come on, man, stop staring. You’ll make your precious Raina jealous. It’s an act. First the victim, now this. It’s what women do. You’re just too naive.” “Seriously. Look at what you did, getting her into that state. Raina is so understanding, not like some people who use a little blood donation to force a wedding…” Their words, meant for me to hear, didn’t sting as I expected. I just felt a profound coldness, a chill that the bright sun couldn’t touch. I watched them leave and checked myself out of the hospital. While Anson was out, I hired a cleaning service and went back to our home. The housekeeper stared at the brand-new decorations filling the apartment. “Miss, all of this is for a wedding. Are you sure you want to throw it all away?” “Yes. The groom died. It’s not needed anymore.” The woman immediately apologized and offered her condolences. To spare my feelings, she started with our wedding photos and the dozens of albums we’d filled over the years. Within half a day, the home I had so lovingly decorated was stripped of all its joy. A cold house, and a cold me. The housekeeper looked at the ten large bags by the door, filled with the evidence of our love, and shook her head with a sigh. “You have to be strong, dear.” I nodded and smiled. After she left, I did one last sweep of the apartment, making sure no trace of me remained. Then I deleted my fingerprint from the lock, grabbed my suitcase, and walked away. 4 I didn’t go to the apartment Anson had rented for me. Instead, I checked into a private recovery center. When I told the receptionist I’d had a miscarriage, she kindly gave me a room on a quiet floor. After a few peaceful days, I got a notification on my phone. A motion alert from a security camera. I’d forgotten to log out of the account for the apartment. I accidentally opened the live feed. The image that filled my screen was of Anson and his girlfriend, kissing passionately as they stumbled through the door. He pulled back when he saw the state of the apartment, pushing Raina away. “What the hell happened here?” He took out his phone to call me, but Raina snatched it from his hand. “Hey! Don’t you dare think about your ex when you’re with me. Pay attention!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers expertly sliding under his shirt. Anson groaned and slammed her against the wall, kissing her with a hunger I had never seen, not even in our most intimate moments. Within seconds, their clothes were scattered on the floor. “Anson, darling,” she purred, “I just got out of the hospital. You have to be gentle with me today.” Anson, pushed to his limit, begged her, his eyes glazed with lust, “You little witch. I’ve been holding back for so long. Why don’t you take charge?” Raina’s eyes glittered. She ran a finger along his jaw. “That depends on how you behave.” “Who do you love more? Me, or your ex-fiancée?” Anson, breathing heavily, went cold. “Sienna is my fiancée. Who do you think I love more?” “You and I had a deal. This was supposed to be about mutual satisfaction. If your body wasn’t so damn fragile, you wouldn’t be the one on top right now.” Raina immediately slid off him, her lip trembling as tears welled in her eyes. “I nearly died for you, and you say that? Fine! Go find someone else, then!” Anson hated it when women cried. He pulled her into his arms, smothering her with kisses, his apologies lost in her moans of pleasure. I watched, numb, as they moved from the sofa to the master bedroom, then to the bathroom. It hit me again, with the force of a physical blow: Anson did not love me. After his “accident,” I had cried myself to sleep every night, but he never saw my swollen eyes. He just called me dramatic and told me not to use my tears to manipulate him. He’d paraded other women in front of me, saying that even if he had loved me once, a little fun now wasn’t a betrayal. I was so profoundly grateful that I hadn’t kept the child. Given his obsession with Raina’s body, he would have married me and continued to see her. I could never be what she was to him. As the sounds of their passion started up again, I exited the app and deleted the account. The next morning, I was woken by a call from Anson. It was the first time he had called me since the incident. I saw no reason to speak to him and ignored it. When he couldn’t get through, he texted. 【Sienna, what is this? I already agreed to marry you. Why did you throw away all the wedding decorations?】 I didn’t want to be humiliated again. I decided to lie. 【That apartment has bad feng shui for us. I bought a villa by the sea. We moved.】 A few seconds later, I got a friend request. The profile picture was Raina. I declined. She was persistent, sending another request with the message: I have a video of you and Anson. I accepted. She immediately sent me a video of her and Anson. When the two-minute preview was up, she sent a crying emoji. 【Oops, big sister. I sent the wrong one. And I can’t unsend it now. What do I do?】 【I really thought it was you and Anson, it was so steamy! I was wondering how you got so good. How could he possibly be obsessed with my body if you could do all that? Turns out the star was me!】 【Sister, if I were you, I’d spend a little money on some lessons. You know, how to please a man? Maybe then your husband wouldn’t have run off.】 Then, she sent me a ten-thousand-dollar transfer. 【This is for the blood you donated. I prefer to settle things with money, not my husband. You’re invited to our wedding!】 I declined the transfer. 【Consider it my wedding gift. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.】 I blocked her. The next two weeks passed in a quiet blur. My body started to heal. It was time to leave. I booked a flight to go stay with my best friend. Only after I’d paid did I realize the flight was on my original wedding day. On my way to the airport, I stopped at a jewelry store to pick up a gift for her. That’s when I remembered the wedding rings Anson and I had custom-made. I had designed them myself. I should get them back and get rid of them. But when the clerk checked the records, she told me Anson had already picked them up. The pity in her eyes told me everything. As I walked out of the store, I ran right into him. He was shopping with Raina, their fingers intertwined. On their hands were the rings I had designed. He saw me looking and started to stammer, “Sienna, these rings…” “They look good on you.” I turned to leave. He started to follow, but Raina pulled him back.

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I was scrolling in bed when a post popped up in my feed: 【What do I do if my wife only likes me for my body?】 I figured it was just clickbait, but I tapped on it anyway. The comments were all trashing the guy for “humblebragging.” A few were giving him tips on how to “use his body to capture her heart.” I was getting into it when my husband, Ryan, walked out of the bathroom. He was still wearing the leather choker with the little bell. 1 【What do I do if my wife only likes me for my body?】 OP: We’ve been married for three years, and I’m starting to think my wife is just… physically attracted to me. When I try to talk to her, she’ll just say ‘uh-huh’ and go back to work. But if I walk past her without a shirt on, her eyes get all bright, and she comes over to… you know. Cuddle. So, does love just fade? Or did she only ever love my abs? I raised an eyebrow. This was a weirdly specific new way to get engagement. I scrolled down. Commenter 1: This is the most obnoxious humblebrag I’ve ever seen. Get out of here, man. You’re here to show off. OP: I’m really not. I’m anxious. I feel like we’re not connecting on an emotional level. Commenter 2: ‘Emotional level’? Lmao. Roommates by day, lovers by night? Dude, that’s the dream. What are you complaining about? OP: But I want her to like my other qualities, too. This guy was jealous of his own body? I guess that made sense. You need both for a healthy marriage. Commenter 3: You just need to lean into it. If she’s physically into you, that’s half the battle. Now you just have to make her so obsessed she can’t live without you. OP: You’re right. Thank you. I’m going to go see my wife right now. I was cackling when the bathroom door clicked open. A cloud of steam rolled out, followed by Ryan. His hair was damp, his upper body bare, and he had a towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets were tracing the lines of his abs… My eyes did a quick, involuntary scan. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, a ridiculous six-pack… and, wait. A new accessory. I couldn’t quite see it in the dim light. He cleared his throat and walked toward me, accompanied by the faint jingle-jingle of a bell. Hold on. He was wearing a bell. 2 I cleared my own throat, forcing my gaze up to his face. “All clean?” He hummed in response, his voice low and a little rough from the hot water. I couldn’t help it. My eyes went back to the thing on his neck. “You… buy that yourself?” He nodded, the tips of his ears turning pink. I had to laugh. I reached out and flicked the little bell. Jingle. Ryan’s whole face flushed. This was… adorable. My hand, of its own accord, drifted lower, tracing the line of his clavicle. He let out a soft sound, and his eyes, when they met mine, were hazy and dark. That face, with that expression… I shoved him. He didn’t fight it, just fell back onto the mattress, landing with a soft whoosh, looking up at me like he was waiting for instructions. “Ryan…” I whispered, crawling over him. “Hmm?” I smirked, my hand slowly moving over his stomach. “You’re ridiculous. And I love it.” … 3 The next morning, I checked the thread. OP had posted an update at 2 AM. OP: It worked. My wife definitely loves my body. But I’ve made up my mind. It’s a start. I’m going to make her fall in love with all of me. The late-night crowd was, of course, terrible. Commenter 8: 2 AM? You just finished, didn’t you? OP: Yeah. She said I was… adorable. Commenter 9: We’re gonna need pics of this body, for… science. OP: Sorry, my body is for my wife only. But I do work out every day. To win her heart, I’m going to work out even harder. … I walked out of the bedroom, still scrolling. Ryan was already in the kitchen, plating breakfast. He set a bowl of oatmeal with fresh berries in front of me. I kept reading, laughing at the comments. “Chloe.” I looked up. “Hmm?” “What time will you be home today?” I thought. “I have a board meeting. Probably late. Don’t wait for me.” He just nodded. A second later, a notification popped up. OP had posted a new comment. OP: I don’t think she likes me. At all. Away from the bedroom, she’s so cold. She was on her phone all through breakfast. She barely even looked at me. I suddenly felt a little bad. He was taking this “hot and cold” thing pretty hard. The comments were, again, not helping. Commenter 12: Dude, stop being so needy. You sound like a chick. Man up. Stop whining about your wife. OP: I don’t think ‘needy’ or ‘feminine’ should be insults. Compassion, vulnerability, and treasuring your partner are good things. I’m here looking for advice on how to connect with my wife, not for a lesson in toxic masculinity. If you think acting like a ‘man’ means devaluing your partner, that’s your problem, not mine. I stared at the comment. I hit the ‘upvote’ button. Damn. Go off, Ryan. 4 I got to the office. Ryan and I… our marriage was a merger. A business arrangement. But it had always been… good. We rarely fought. He was a private wealth manager, I ran a high-profile talent agency. We had our own lives. The morning was swallowed by meetings. “Liam’s new movie is with a major director,” my VP was saying. “If this lands, we’re looking at an Oscar campaign.” I nodded, and we moved on. At lunch, I opened the thread again. It was my soap opera now. Commenter 25: Maybe you’re just a hot body and nothing else? No personality? Hmm. Possible. OP: My wife says I’m handsome. And I’m successful in my own right. But I think she’s more amazing. When she’s in work mode, she’s… incredible. So smart. But then she doesn’t look at me. Anyway, I don’t think I’m a ‘nothing.’ Commenter 26: What does your wife do? You said she deals with ‘glamorous’ people? Dude. She’s definitely cheating on you. Probably with some hot young actor. OP: Absolutely not. My wife’s job requires her to be around those types… but I trust her. Her standards are way too high for anyone else. I choked on my coffee. He was complimenting himself while complimenting me. This guy was… a lot. But he was insecure. He needed to be more like Ryan. Ryan was solid as a rock. He’d walked in on my top client, Liam, telling me he was in love with me, and Ryan hadn’t even blinked. Of course, we had a pre-nup. No cheating. I sighed. Ryan was always so… perfect. So contained. I never knew what he was really thinking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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