Category: English

After finding my lost notebook, the school’s Prom Queen decided to mock me in front of everyone. “Does this ugly duckling actually think that if she writes his name enough times in a diary, she’ll turn into a swan?” she sneered, waving my notebook in the air. She turned to the guy standing next to her. “Jaxson, be honest. Could you ever like someone like her?” Jaxson Miller ran a hand through his hair, looking annoyed. “Can you stop asking stupid questions? You know who I’m into.” In an instant, I became the punchline of the entire school. But later, during the Monday Morning Assembly, I stood at the podium holding that exact same notebook. I read Jaxson’s name into the microphone, word for word, along with a detailed list of his “great achievements.” I watched the blood drain from both of their faces, turning them pale as ghosts. As I walked past them later, my whisper was loud enough for them to hear clearly: “Was that exciting? You romance-obsessed idiots.” “Did you forget? I’m the Disciplinary Chair.” Chapter 1 The bell for the end of late-night study hall rang like a heavy sigh, but the stale air in the room didn’t clear. I had just unscrewed the cap of my thermos when a wave of sickly-sweet perfume assaulted my senses. Chloe Sterling’s face, perfectly made up, loomed into my view. She was grinning like a cat that had just stolen the cream. In her manicured hand, she dangled a familiar object—my leather-bound notebook with the frayed edges. “Hey, Harper,” she cooed. “Did you lose something?” Before I could even open my mouth, she was already strutting to the center of the classroom, surrounded by her clique. All eyes focused on her and the notebook. “Oh my god, you guys,” she announced, her voice pitched just loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Let’s see what our Grade-A goody-two-shoes writes about in her secret diary. Is it secrets? Spells?” Her fingertips, tipped with rhinestone-encrusted acrylics, flipped through the pages lightly. I have an excellent memory. I only use that notebook to record keywords and data, so to the untrained eye, it looks like a mess of scratch paper. Dense rows of numbers and names. To her, it probably looked like alien code. Until she gasped, stopping dramatically on that page. The malice in her eyes instantly turned into pure, unfiltered mockery. Like Columbus discovering a new continent, she held the notebook high, showing the page to everyone. “Jaxson… Jaxson… Jaxson…” She laughed. “Wow. A whole page filled with nothing but Jaxson Miller’s name!” The air in the room froze for a second, then exploded into suppressed giggles and whispers. “No way,” someone whispered. “Harper Vance? Secretly in love with Jaxson?” “I didn’t think she had emotions,” another guy laughed. “Is this that manifestation thing? Write the name down thirty times and he falls in love with you? That is so cringe.” I watched this performance expressionlessly. Chloe, basking in her victory, walked over to the eye of the storm—Jaxson Miller. He finally looked up from his phone game, his brows knitted together in a frown that screamed ‘everyone is annoying me.’ Chloe leaned in like a pet seeking a treat, shoving the notebook under his nose. “Jax, look! She’s obsessed with you. Do you think you could ever like her back?” Jaxson ran a hand through his hair aggressively, his eyes sweeping over me. There was no curiosity in his gaze, only the disgust of someone looking at trash. “Can you stop asking stupid questions?” His voice was cold, laced with a warning tone. “You know exactly who I like.” “I’m just teasing!” Chloe giggled, throwing a provocative look my way. In an instant, I became the school’s biggest joke. A toad dreaming of eating swan meat. A delusional nobody thinking she had a shot with the golden boy. But none of them knew that as I watched this monkey show, I didn’t feel a shred of humiliation. Humiliation? Please. I just found it noisy. I felt that the quiet order I carefully maintained after study hall had been thoroughly disrupted by these hormone-overloaded idiots. My brain calmly analyzed the situation. Chloe Sterling. Daughter of a school board member. Pretty, yes, but functionally brainless. She probably thought she had caught me in some huge scandal that would make me lose face in front of Jaxson. Maybe she hoped I’d cry and transfer schools, clearing the way for her to be the undisputed “Queen.” Truly… pathetic. Chapter 2 As for Jaxson Miller, the prince of the school… My fingers tapped lightly under my desk as I recalled the actual contents of that page—the parts Chloe had ignored in her excitement. September 5, 7:32 AM: Jaxson Miller. Tardy, 2 minutes. Reason: Buying breakfast off-campus. September 7, 3rd Period Calculus, 10:15-10:30: Jaxson Miller. Sleeping. Duration: 15 minutes. September 10, English Homework: Jaxson Miller. Assignment 90% identical to Ryan Jacobs’. Verdict: Plagiarism. September 12, Post-Gym: Jaxson Miller. Intentionally shoved a freshman near the snack bar, causing knee abrasion. September 15, Evening Study Hall, 7:45 PM: Jaxson Miller and Chloe Sterling left the room together. Returned 8:05 PM. Uniforms disheveled. Red mark on Chloe’s neck. Location Inference: Equipment Room. Item by item. Case by case. They seemed to have forgotten that I have been the Head of the Student Conduct Committee since freshman year. My job is to record this. My father is a Detective. My mother is a Judge. The most important lesson they taught me was “Procedural Justice” and “Rule of Law.” To me, in this small ecosystem of a high school, the Student Handbook is the law. And Jaxson Miller is a repeat offender who tramples on those rules daily. I didn’t record his name because I had a crush. I didn’t record it because I hated him. I recorded it because it happened. I had tried to communicate with him before, reminding him to watch his behavior. His response was always a wolf-whistle and a dismissive, “You monitor too much, Vance.” Disappointment, when accumulated, just becomes numb responsibility. That page of “Jaxson” was just a draft I was using to tally his monthly infraction count for the administration report. The farce in the classroom continued to escalate. Seeing no reaction from me, Chloe seemed unsatisfied. She waved the notebook in front of Jaxson again. “Jax, look at the handwriting. It’s actually really neat. Every stroke is full of love! Unlike me, my handwriting is messy…” She wanted to see me break down, cry, deny it, or get angry. Unfortunately, I let her down. I stood up slowly. My chair scraped the floor with a sharp sound, successfully drawing everyone’s attention back to me. I walked toward them, step by step, calm and composed. I’m five-foot-eight, and my posture is perfect. I walked right up to Chloe and looked down at her. She was intimidated by my presence, instinctively taking half a step back, but she gripped the notebook tighter. “Are you done looking?” I asked. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was cold as ice. “The show is over. Give me back my property.” I didn’t look at her. My gaze shot straight past her to Jaxson. Chapter 3 Jaxson’s impatient expression finally shifted into a serious evaluation. It was as if he was realizing for the first time that the “nerd” Harper Vance wasn’t quite what he and Chloe assumed. Chloe, losing face in front of the crowd, shrieked, “Why should I? You have a crush on Jaxson and you won’t let people talk about it? You did it, admit it!” “I will say this one more time.” I deepened my tone, my eyes locked on Jaxson. “Give. It. Back.” Just as we were at a standoff, Jaxson moved. He snatched the notebook from Chloe’s hand. He didn’t give it back to me. Instead, he held it, flipping through it nonchalantly. When he saw the page filled with his name, the corner of his mouth curled into a playful, almost cruel smile. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting my calm ones. “Harper Vance,” he said, shaking the notebook in his hand. His voice was lazy, magnetic, but full of arrogance. “You’ve got some nerve.” I looked at him, looked at the “evidence” in his hand, and internally rolled my eyes. Another idiot. He wasn’t holding my diary. He was holding his own indictment. The drama was cut short by the bell for the final session. When school ended, Jaxson didn’t return the notebook; he shoved it into his desk drawer. Chloe walked out with him, acting like a victorious peacock. I didn’t chase them. After they left, I simply walked to my locker and took out my backup logbook. I went home, threw my bag down, and went straight to the bathroom to wash my hands. The cold water rinsed away the memory of that cheap perfume and the noise. I looked in the mirror. My face was expressionless. No tears. No anger. Originally, I viewed their provocations as adults view toddlers fighting in a sandbox—tiresome. But now that they had brought the fight to my doorstep, I wasn’t going to stay silent. I had intended to submit that list privately to the teachers for the year-end evaluation. But now? Now we could add a public segment. Chapter 4 Monday morning. The “Star-Spangled Banner” played over the PA system as classes shuffled onto the football field for the morning assembly. After Friday’s incident, I had submitted a request to the Principal and the Dean of Students to speak during the assembly. My reason was official: “To summarize the semester’s disciplinary trends and announce specific infraction case studies as a warning before midterms.” The request was approved immediately. No one says no to the Valedictorian and Model Student. I stood on the side of the podium stage, waiting. In the crowd below, Jaxson and Chloe stood side by side, laughing at something. Chloe nudged him, and they both looked up at me. Even from fifty yards away, I could read their expressions: condescension mixed with amusement. They probably thought I was up there to apologize. Or maybe they thought I was just posturing. The anthem ended. The student host cleared his throat. “Next, please welcome the Chair of the Conduct Committee, Harper Vance, for a special address.” I walked to the center of the stage, facing the entire student body and faculty. I didn’t look at the two glaring faces in the front row. I looked at the grey sky. The Dean handed me the microphone. “Good luck, Harper.” The microphone felt heavy, like a grenade with the pin pulled. “Good morning,” my voice echoed across the field. “Today, as the representative of the Conduct Committee, I need to address the blatant disregard for school regulations that has been occurring on our campus. I will be reading a list of specific infractions. I hope everyone takes this as a warning.” A ripple of confusion went through the crowd. Chloe’s smile froze. Jaxson frowned, realizing something was off. I didn’t give them time to react. I flipped the first page of my report. “Jaxson Miller,” I read the name clearly. The whispering below spiked in volume. Jaxson’s body stiffened. “September 3rd. Evening Study Hall. 7:35 PM to 7:50 PM. Sleeping in the back row. Duration: 15 minutes. Failed to correct behavior after teacher warning.” “September 7th. 10:00 AM. Calculus Quiz. Sleeping for 15 minutes. Upon waking, engaged in frequent eye contact with student Ryan Jacobs and attempted to view his answer sheet. Issued a verbal warning by the proctor.” I saw his face turn red. He stared at me deathly hard, his eyes practically spitting fire. I paused, then turned the page.

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1 The day before our wedding, Michael Holland died in a car crash. Everyone expected me to fall apart, but I didn’t shed a tear. Five years later, in a chance encounter at a hotel, he was back from the dead, with a convenient case of amnesia. Eggged on by a crowd of his friends, he was locked in a deep, lingering kiss with my stepsister. When he saw me standing alone, a smug grin spread across his face. “So you’re the fiancée I left behind? Still waiting for me after five years? You’re some kind of super-simp, aren’t you? Can’t live without me?” “I know you’re dying for me,” he continued, oozing arrogance. “And look, since you’ve been so loyal all this time, I’ll consider keeping you on the side. But the title of Mrs. Holland is reserved for Chloe. I’ll be with her Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I can see you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. You should be thrilled.” I was, in fact, thrilled. “I’m sorry,” I said, a small smile playing on my lips. “You must have me confused with someone else.” What Michael didn’t know was that on the night of his “fatal” accident, I received a video. What he knew even less was that during the five years he and my dear stepsister were living it up, I had married another man. And we had a four-year-old daughter. And that man… was his uncle. … I never imagined that the first time I saw Michael again, it would be like this. His arm was wrapped tightly around Chloe’s waist, their bodies pressed together as he responded to the rowdy cheers of their friends with a kiss so deep a string of saliva connected them when they finally pulled apart. Chloe melted into his arms, her cheeks flushed a bright pink. “I give up,” she pouted, her voice a breathy whisper. “You kiss so hard I can’t even breathe. You’re such a beast. I’m ignoring you now!” Michael nuzzled her neck. “You think that’s beastly? You weren’t saying that last night when you were begging me to—” The private room erupted in another round of boisterous laughter. Chloe playfully tried to cover his mouth, her body draped over him like a boneless doll. Someone in the crowd called out, “So, Michael, my man. It’s been five years. You really done with Evelyn for good?” Michael leaned back into the plush sofa, shrugging with casual indifference. “Of course not. I’m just not done playing yet. Once Chloe and I are married, my memory will magically come back.” “Yeah, right!” another friend jeered. “Everyone knows she worships the ground you walk on. The second she finds out you’re alive, she’ll be back to her old tricks, probably crawling up a mountain on her knees to thank God you’re safe, just like she did five years ago.” “Hahaha, I can’t! Just thinking about how pathetic and desperate she was makes me die laughing. She’s the queen of all simps. I heard she had a rough time abroad these past five years. Probably can’t even function without you.” The laughter in the room was deafening, nearly shaking the walls. I had intended to leave, but someone with sharp eyes spotted me. “Evelyn!” The same guy who had just been laughing the loudest at my expense now looked awkwardly at me. “Hey! Michael’s alive! We didn’t tell you because… well, he has amnesia, and he’s with someone else now. We were just trying to protect you.” “Yeah, that’s right!” another chimed in. “We all know you’re the one he really loves, but he just doesn’t remember you. If you make a scene now, he’ll just think you’re crazy.” Before I could say a word, Michael let out a derisive snort. “So, you’re the one. The fiancée who’s supposedly dying of love for me?” His eyes swept over my simple, understated dress with a look of pure disgust. “Look at the state of you. You really fell apart without me, didn’t you? Is your life that meaningless?” He was still the same Michael. Arrogant, condescending, and utterly convinced of his own importance. Five years had passed. Looking at the smug satisfaction in his eyes, I felt none of the old flutterings in my heart. Only revulsion. I had just gotten off a plane, still fighting off jet lag. The only reason I was at this hotel was to pick up a strawberry mousse for my daughter; it was her favorite, and this was the only place that made it. Seeing my silence, he lazily pulled Chloe closer and gave her a short, passionate French kiss right in front of me. “Oh, stop it,” Chloe giggled, swatting his chest. “My sister is watching.” I pressed my lips together, a wave of nausea rolling through me. Michael completely misinterpreted my expression. A pleased look crossed his face. “What’s there to be afraid of? You’re going to be Mrs. Holland. If she wants to stick around, she’ll have to get used to it.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Look, for the sake of the five years you kept yourself pure for me, I’ll keep you as my mistress. I’ll spend three days a week with Chloe, and three days with you. And on Sundays, you can come over and wait on both of us.” His friends immediately jumped in to support him. “See, Evelyn? Even with amnesia, he hasn’t forgotten you! He’s giving you three days a week!” “Yeah, you look like hell. You must have been scrubbing toilets and waiting tables to get by overseas, right? You should say yes before he changes his mind. Then you won’t get to see him even if you get on your knees and beg.” Chloe tightened her grip on Michael’s arm, a clear display of ownership, and looked at me with open provocation. “I’m so sorry, sister. But what can I do? Michael only loves me now. You’ll just have to be the dirty little secret on the side.” “A secret?” Michael scoffed. “She can’t live without me. She’d jump off a bridge if I told her to.” A faint, sharp pang went through my chest. Five years ago, in that car crash, he had thrown his body over mine, shielding me from the impact. Just before he closed his eyes, he had held my trembling hand, his voice weak but steady. “Don’t be scared, baby. I’m tough. I’m not gonna die. I told you, I’ll be your guardian angel forever. No one will ever hurt you.” The man who had loved me so much… could he really have changed this completely, just because of amnesia? I pushed down the bitterness in my heart, took a deep breath, and smiled faintly. “I’m sorry. You’ve all made a mistake.” I held up my hand, showing them the simple, elegant ring on my finger. “And besides, I’m already married.” For a few seconds, the room was dead silent. Then, it exploded with roaring laughter. Michael raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Married? To who, the garbage man? The street sweeper?” “Evelyn, you can’t possibly think a pathetic lie like that is going to make me jealous, can you? Have you lost your mind?” Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist and ripped the ring from my finger. I winced in pain. Just as I was about to speak, Chloe burst out laughing. “Michael, honey, isn’t that ‘The Eternal Love’? The one your uncle bought at that auction in Paris five years ago for twenty million?” “Oh my god, sister,” she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you’re not going to tell us you married Uncle Julian, are you? That you’re Michael’s aunt now?” The laughter in the room grew even louder. Everyone knew that the current head of the Holland family was Michael’s uncle, Julian Holland. Though only five years older than Michael, he was a man whose name alone commanded respect. He was handsome, incredibly wealthy, and notoriously devoted to his wife. After five years of marriage, almost no one had ever seen his wife or daughter; he kept them completely hidden from the public eye. “Don’t tell me, sister,” Chloe taunted. “Are you trying to say you’re the mysterious wife Julian Holland has been hiding away for five years?” Someone else picked up my ring. “I gotta say, it’s a pretty good fake. Must have cost a fortune. Evelyn really went all out to try and trick you, Michael.” Faced with their ridicule, I tried to explain. “It’s not a fake. This ring is real—” Before I could finish, a hand swung through the air and a white-hot sting exploded across my cheek. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Michael snarled, his face contorted with rage. “You can lie about anyone, but you bring my uncle into this? Everyone knows how much he loves his wife! You think he’d want you, my sloppy seconds? If you don’t have a mirror, go find a puddle and take a good look at yourself! I can’t stand women who lie just to get attention. I must have been blind to ever fall for someone like you. How pathetic!” I slowly turned my head back to face him, cradling my cheek. Perhaps it was the calmness in my eyes, but he suddenly looked away, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But Chloe wasn’t about to let it go. “Sister, Michael has amnesia and he’s still willing to keep you as a mistress. You should be grateful! Instead, you’re trying to cause trouble for him. You know how protective Uncle Julian is of his wife. By pretending to be her, you’re just asking for trouble for Michael! You’re so selfish and cruel!” Chloe was my stepfather’s daughter. The day of my own father’s funeral, while we were still at the service, my mother forced me to accept her as my new, younger sister. She was like a shadow, a specter determined to destroy anything good in my life. If she could steal it, she would. If she couldn’t, she’d ruin it. Five years ago, Michael had stood in front of me like a god, shielding me from her, his voice cold with fury as he told her to back off. Now, it was the same man. But this time, he was standing in front of Chloe, shielding her from me. He pulled out a thick wad of cash and threw it in my face. “This is what you want, isn’t it? Money. Go on, pick it up.” The sharp edge of a bill cut my forehead. A small bead of blood welled up. I didn’t wipe it away. For a split second, I saw a flicker of something—unease, maybe even concern—in Michael’s eyes. The next moment, I bent down. He let out a sigh of relief, a mocking smile returning to his face. “That’s more like it. A good little simp knows her place…” I ignored the red bills scattered on the floor and picked up the ring that had been tossed into a corner. Michael stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. A strange, unfamiliar panic began to stir within him. As I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm. “Are you addicted to this act? Isn’t there enough money there to buy a hundred of your fake rings?” I didn’t understand his sudden anger. “Let go of me.” “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” he seethed, his teeth clenched. “Fine. Chloe and I are getting married in a week. My uncle will be back in the country for it. You should come. I’ll let him get a good look at you, see just how shameless my discarded trash can be.” At the mention of marriage, Chloe’s face lit up with undisguised glee. “You’re not going to be too scared to show up, are you, sister?” I carefully put the ring away. “Fine,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll be there. I hope you don’t regret it.” I walked out of the room, pausing for a moment in the hallway. I heard one of Michael’s friends sigh. “Dude, you sure you didn’t take it too far? Something about Evelyn seems… off. What if she really is married?” “No way,” Michael said, his voice full of certainty. “She’s just putting on a show. All I have to do is crook my little finger and she’ll come crawling back.” He seemed to recall the unnerving calm in my eyes as I left, and he nervously licked his lips. “I’m done playing around anyway. After the wedding, I’ll ‘get my memory back.’ I’ll tell her a sob story, tell her she’s the only one I’ve ever loved. She’ll be back to licking my boots in no time.” “You’re the man, Michael! Faking amnesia, partying for five years, and you still have her wrapped around your finger.” Chloe pouted. “But what about me, Michael, honey? What happens when you get your memory back?” Michael squeezed her waist. “The same thing that’s happening now, of course. Besides, isn’t sneaking around more exciting?” I listened to their conversation, a deep, chilling cold spreading through my heart. I walked quickly to the hotel entrance, taking several deep breaths to quell the rising nausea. What Michael didn’t know was that five years ago, on the night he “died” in that car crash, I had received a video. I pulled out my phone and played it. His voice, laced with laughter, filled the air. “I love Evelyn, I do. But she’s so… bland. The thought of being with only one woman for the rest of my life is just so boring. I’m going to fake my death, go have some fun for a few years. When I come back, I’ll just say I have amnesia. You guys better get lots of videos of her falling apart. I can’t wait to see her completely shattered without me.” The day the doctors pronounced him dead, I gave him exactly what he wanted. The despair was so absolute, so soul-crushing, that I couldn’t even cry. I wanted to die with him. It was his “good friends” who held me back, who saved me. I never noticed the phone, hidden in the corner, recording my agony. I never noticed the mocking smirks they fought to hide behind their masks of feigned grief. I put my phone away. From that day on, Michael faked his death. But in my heart, he was well and truly dead. The news that Michael was alive, coupled with his impending wedding, caused a massive stir. That night, Chloe updated her social media. A romantic wedding venue. A stunning, one-of-a-kind wedding dress. A diamond ring called “The Eternal Love.” Everything had been for me. Everything was what Michael had meticulously planned for our wedding. In the photo, their hands were intertwined, the caption a string of nauseatingly sweet nothings. I glanced at it and was about to close the app when a message from Michael popped up. “Are you dying of jealousy yet?” I deleted and blocked him. Immediately, a message from Chloe appeared. “See that? You’re just a dog we keep around for our entertainment. I’m the only one who deserves to be Mrs. Holland.” I gave her the same treatment. A week later, the wedding day arrived. My daughter was being particularly clingy, so by the time I got to the hotel, the ceremony was already at the ring exchange. Michael, who had been anxiously glancing at the door, visibly relaxed the moment he saw me. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. When the officiant asked if he would take the bride to be his wife, he deliberately paused, drawing out the moment. But I gave him no reaction. He watched as I calmly helped myself to a piece of cake from the dessert table, and his face instantly darkened. Suddenly, someone shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled forward, crashing into a table laden with champagne glasses. A tower of champagne, taller than I was, came crashing down. A cascade of alcohol and shattered glass rained down on me. Blood trickled down from my forehead, blurring my vision. Through the haze, I thought I saw Michael take two anxious steps toward me, but Chloe beat him to it. She grabbed me, her face a mask of tear-streaked sorrow. “Sister! I invited you to my wedding out of the kindness of my heart! How could you ruin it like this? I know you’re jealous that Michael only loves me now, but you can hit me, you can scream at me! Why did you have to destroy my happiness? Do you hate the thought of me being happy that much?” Her grip was surprisingly strong, her sharp nails digging into my skin. It was so painful my scalp tingled. As I instinctively tried to push her away, she let out a sharp cry and threw herself backward. The next second, I was shoved violently aside. My ankle twisted under me in my high heels, and I gasped in pain. I looked up and met Michael’s furious gaze. “Are you some kind of leech? I don’t even remember you, and you’re still throwing yourself at me! I have never met a more shameless woman in my life. Apologize to Chloe, now!” The ballroom was filled with guests, many of whom had only come in the hopes of seeing Julian Holland. Eager to get on Michael’s good side, they all turned on me. “Have some dignity! The man doesn’t even remember you, and you’re still chasing after him like a stray dog. It’s pathetic.” “And to ruin her own sister’s wedding! She’s just a bitter, evil woman. Michael, you really dodged a bullet not marrying a curse like her.” Chloe, nestled safely in Michael’s arms, pointed a trembling finger at my hand. “Sister, I told you Uncle Julian was coming today. How could you still wear that fake ‘Eternal Love’ ring? Are you saying you love Michael, but you’re really trying to seduce his uncle?” Her words drew everyone’s attention to my hand. Someone in the crowd immediately piped up. “I heard a story once. Some woman showed up pregnant, claiming the baby was Mr. Holland’s. All Mrs. Holland did was take off her ‘Eternal Love’ ring for one day. The next day, that woman was found in a back-alley clinic in Paris, collar around her neck, all four limbs gone.” At this, Michael’s face grew grim. Chloe spoke up, her voice full of false concern. “Michael, honey, everyone’s watching. Before Uncle Julian sees this… we have to do something about her hand.” Michael was silent for a moment. Then, he picked up a steak knife from a nearby table. I backed away, but his friends quickly surrounded me. “Michael, if you touch me, Julian Holland will not let you get away with this.” “Oh, sister, stop being so stubborn,” Chloe cooed. “You don’t know how ruthless Uncle Julian can be. When he deals with you, it won’t just be a hand. Michael is only taking your hand out of respect for your past relationship.” Michael advanced on me, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “I’ll be quick.” They pinned my hand to the table. Despair washed over me. “Let go of me!” I screamed, my face pale with terror. “My husband is Julian Holland!” Everyone looked at me like I was insane. Michael knelt down beside me. “I know you’re only doing this to get my attention, because you love me so much. But you have to stop saying crazy things like this. It’s just a hand. I won’t mind once it’s gone.” As he spoke, he brought the knife down. The ring, along with my finger, was severed. Agony, white-hot and blinding, tore through me. I almost fainted from the pain. Chloe quickly snatched the severed finger and threw it out a nearby window. As she turned back, through my pain-blurred vision, I saw a triumphant, vicious smile on her face. “Dude, that’s enough,” one of his friends whispered nervously. “What are you going to do when you ‘get your memory back’?” “What are you talking about?” Chloe cut in immediately. “Uncle Julian is on his way. Do you want to see him have her limbs cut off and a collar put around her neck?” “She’s right,” another guest added. “You can get a prosthetic hand. It’s better than being dead.” The flicker of doubt on Michael’s face vanished. He looked at my curled, trembling form on the floor and clenched his jaw. “Evelyn, I’m doing this for your own good. I’ll make it up to you later.” I was in too much pain to speak, tears of pure despair streaming from my eyes. The silver knife was about to fall again when the grand doors of the ballroom were thrown open. Julian Holland, surrounded by an entourage of assistants and security, strode into the room.

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My husband’s childhood sweetheart got blackout drunk one night and was taken advantage of. When she reappeared, she was pregnant—just like me. The day I gave birth, Blake handed me divorce papers. “Sophia is planning her comeback,” he said, his voice flat. “She needs a clean slate—a husband, a father for her child. A scandal like this would destroy her career.” I signed the papers, my body weak, my spirit numb. I had done this before. In my first life, I refused to step aside. I went live on social media, clutching my infant daughter, and exposed the A-list actress Sophia Marlowe for the homewrecker she was. The public backlash was swift and brutal. She was vilified online, lost every endorsement, and was hounded by lawsuits demanding astronomical sums. The pressure drove her to jump from a skyscraper. When Blake found out, he arranged her funeral with chilling composure. But his grief festered into a quiet, burning hatred for me. He stood by while Sophia’s rabid fans harassed me on the street, and later, when they set our house on fire, he did nothing. I saw him lock the door from the outside, trapping me and our child in the inferno. In that final, terrifying moment, I understood. He wanted me dead. I blinked, and I was back. Back in this sterile hospital room, the ink on the divorce papers still fresh. 1 My daughter, Annie, was born prematurely and whisked away to the NICU. And that’s when Blake Marriott, my husband, chose to serve me. “You know how it is,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Sophia was at the top of her game before… this. Ten months out of the spotlight has already cost her. If news breaks that she’s an unmarried mother, the media will crucify her.” I had just clawed my way back from the edge of death. The slightest movement sent a searing pain through my stitches. But if fate had returned me to this day, it meant I had a choice. “Fine, I’ll sign,” I said, my voice steady. “But you’ll put my name on the birth certificate first. And I want a settlement.” Blake had clearly prepared a speech to counter my expected tears and hysterics. My calm acceptance caught him off guard, and a wave of relief washed over his face. “Of course. A million dollars. Is that enough?” A man worth billions, and he offered me a million. I dug my nails into the thin hospital sheet, knowing it was pointless to ask for more. I just nodded. He handled the paperwork. Once I confirmed everything was in order, I signed my name, severing our lives. Divorce agreement in hand, Blake left without a second glance, not even a flicker of curiosity about the daughter he had just officially acknowledged. The room next door was filled with laughter and celebration. My own room was silent. I had no parents, no family, and now, no husband. Two days later, Annie was released from the NICU. I bundled both of us up against the cold, ready to go home. On the way, a call came from his secretary. “Miss Quinn, please remember to share the company’s official press release.” I wasn’t even legally divorced, yet I was already stripped of the title “Mrs. Marriott.” To protect Sophia’s reputation, Blake had fabricated a story about our marriage ending due to an amicable split. I’d agreed without a fight, but my phone was dying. I’d deal with it at home. The moment I stepped into the villa, I called for the maid to close the windows against the draft. Silence. I carried Annie toward the nursery and heard whispers from the kitchen. “The nerve of her, bringing that little bastard back here.” “Mr. Marriott is too soft. She should be grateful he’s not suing her, and now she’s trying to get his money with someone else’s kid?” A cold sweat prickled my back beneath my thick coat. Amicable split? What had they told everyone? “What are you talking about?” I demanded, pushing the kitchen door open. The maids, who once called me “Ma’am” with feigned respect, now stared at me with open contempt. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, a woman with a perpetually sour face, spat on the floor near my feet. “Who’s gossiping? It’s all over the news. Marriott Enterprises released a statement. Everyone knows you cheated.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I rushed to my room, plugged in my phone, and pulled up Twitter. The top trending topic was #MarriottDivorce. The official statement read: “Due to Ms. Lia Quinn’s infidelity during their marriage, Mr. Blake Marriott has filed for divorce. The dissolution is effective immediately.” A roar filled my head, a pain sharp enough to make me dizzy. To legitimize Sophia’s position, Blake had utterly destroyed my name. I was about to type a frantic rebuttal when my phone buzzed, nearly startling a sleeping Annie. I answered. A police officer’s excited voice came through the line. “Ms. Quinn? We’ve got a confession from the trafficker. He confirmed you were one of the children abducted from Lakeview!” My heart, shattered by Blake, suddenly leaped with a wild, desperate hope. “We’re working with the Lakeview PD to cross-reference families who reported missing children,” he continued. “You’ll need to come here for a DNA test within the next three days!” Tears streamed down my face. I was abducted at five and had never known a single day of true peace. I thought marrying Blake was a new beginning, but it was just a different kind of hell. But now… now I had a chance to find my real parents. My daughter would have a family that loved her. After hanging up, I quickly packed a small bag, then went to the nursery for a few of Annie’s things. My hand was on the doorknob when the front door swung open. “Lia. What do you think you’re doing in there?” 2 Blake stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “I was just getting some clothes for the baby.” “That room is for Sophia’s child now,” he said coldly. “If you need things for… yours, buy them yourself.” Every tiny outfit, every soft blanket in that room, I had chosen with so much love. And he was giving it all to Sophia’s child—a child that wasn’t even his. A wave of despair washed over me, but I was too tired to fight. Just as I turned to leave, Mrs. Gable grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Mr. Marriott wants us at the recovery center to look after Miss Marlowe.” The sudden movement pulled at my C-section scar, and I cried out in pain. “Blake, I just gave birth! I need to recover, too!” He didn’t even turn around. “Which means you have experience.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ve been doing manual labor your whole life. You’re tough. You don’t need a pampered recovery.” With that, he slid into his Maybach. I was shoved into a nondescript van and driven to a luxury postpartum care facility. When we arrived, Sophia was propped up in bed, surrounded by a legion of nurses. She saw me and made a show of trying to sit up. “Lia, you’re here! Oh, you must be exhausted from the delivery…” Blake gently pressed her back against the pillows. He shot me a contemptuous look. “She could run a marathon on a broken leg. This is nothing for her.” He turned his focus back to me. “Lia, if you take good care of Sophia, I’ll add another million to your settlement. That’s a good deal, isn’t it?” Another million. It was tempting. I bit my lip. “I can’t. My baby is at home. There’s no one to watch her.” A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but Sophia immediately clutched his hand. “Blake, darling, if she doesn’t want to, just let her go home. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you.” Her feigned concern worked like a charm. Blake squeezed her hand reassuringly, then glared at me. “It’s an honor for you to serve Sophia. You’re a penniless orphan. You brought nothing to our marriage, couldn’t even manage to play the part of a decent wife. The least you can do now is make yourself useful. Taking care of Sophia is the most value you’ll ever provide.” His words, honed by months of casual cruelty, cut deep. He paid no mind to my ashen face as he ordered Mrs. Gable to return to the villa. But I knew she despised me for “marrying up.” She would never take proper care of Annie. Blake silenced my protests and ordered me to feed Sophia her meal. The door clicked shut behind me. I was trapped. Exhausted and starving, I spooned the soup. As it neared her lips, she jerked back with a theatrical shriek. “Ah! It’s scalding!” In a flash, Blake snatched the bowl and hurled it at me. Hot, greasy chicken broth soaked my clothes. “What is your problem?” he roared. “If you’ve burned her, you’re not eating for the rest of the day!” Sophia collapsed against him, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Blake, don’t be angry. I’m sure she didn’t mean to…” “Don’t call her your sister-in-law,” he snapped. “I’m taking her to finalize the divorce tomorrow.” I stood there, drenched and humiliated, with no one to offer a single word of comfort. The next day, as promised, he took me to the courthouse. We were officially divorced. Outside, he walked straight to his car. “I’m going to buy Sophia the new handbag she wanted. You can find your own way back.” His face darkened. “And Lia? You have thirty minutes to be back at that center. You know what will happen if you’re not.” The Maybach sped away. I immediately hailed a cab, not to the center, but to the villa. As I rushed through the gates, I heard a baby’s faint cry coming from the small security hut by the driveway. That was where the guard lived! I threw the door open. My Annie was lying on a filthy, cluttered cot. Her formula and my carefully packed diaper bag were sitting untouched right next to her. Her face was pale, her cries weak and breathless. She hadn’t been fed or changed since yesterday. Forgetting Mrs. Gable, forgetting everything but my child, I scooped her up, changed her, and mixed a bottle. After she finished and let out a tiny burp, she gave me a sweet, milky smile. My eyes burned, and a tear splashed onto her blanket. Sophia’s child had a dozen nannies. Mine was left to starve. “It’s okay, Annie,” I whispered. “Mommy’s going to get you out of here.” Suddenly, there was a violent banging on the door. I opened it, and Blake’s hand cracked across my face. “Lia! How dare you bring this scum into my house!” 3 I clutched Annie tightly as Blake shoved me back into the villa. Sophia followed, wrapped in cashmere and flanked by her nurses. The house was a disaster. Sprawled across the living room floor were several thuggish-looking men, sleeping off a heavy night of drinking. The air was thick with the stench of stale beer and cigarettes. More men were passed out in the bedrooms and the study. On our master bed, five people were tangled together, some of them completely naked. Panic seized me. “This wasn’t me! I haven’t even been inside the house!” Mrs. Gable emerged from the chaos, her voice choked with fake sorrow. “Mr. Marriott, sir… last night, dozens of them just barged in. They said Miss Lia gave them the key and told them to make themselves at home…” Her voice broke. “They said the baby was being a nuisance and… and they threw her in the security hut.” My whole body trembled. “I don’t know them! I was at the recovery center all day yesterday. How could I have given them a key?” “That’s right, darling,” Sophia chimed in, tugging on Blake’s sleeve. “She was taking such good care of me. Blake, why don’t we just wake one of them up and ask?” The hard lines of Blake’s face softened at her touch. He gestured for a guard to rouse the nearest man. “Who let you in here?” Blake demanded. The man blinked, his eyes bleary. “Some chick… Lia, she called herself. Gave us a key, said the place was empty and to have a party… Hey! Another round!” Dangling from his fingers was my keychain. My keychain, with the little teddy bear charm I’d had for years. I instinctively felt my pocket. It was empty. “No, my keys were stolen! It wasn’t me!” “Still lying?” Blake’s voice was dangerously low. “Sophia was so worried about you, she insisted on coming home. And this is the disgusting scene I find. You planned to have an orgy in my house!” His patience snapped. He ordered Mrs. Gable to lock me in the security hut. As the door closed, I could hear Sophia’s saccharine voice. “Blake, don’t be so hard on her. She was just having a little fun.” “She needs to be taught a lesson,” he replied. “This house is filthy. We’ll go to one of my other properties.” The main gate clicked shut, and through the glass of the hut, I saw their convoy pull away. Sophia, nestled securely in the center of her entourage, shot me a triumphant smirk. Later that night, after I finally soothed a wailing Annie to sleep, the single bulb in the hut flickered and died. Probably a bad fuse. I used my phone’s dim light to book a train ticket. Just then, I heard the lock turning. The door creaked open, and Sophia’s silhouette appeared in the moonlight. Without Blake, her sweet facade melted away, replaced by a look of pure venom. “A million dollars for a divorce? You’ve got more nerve than I thought, Lia.” I instinctively pulled Annie closer, backing away, but the tiny room offered no escape. “Sophia, I’ve done nothing to you. Why are you so determined to destroy me?” “Nothing?” she hissed. “If it weren’t for you, I would be Mrs. Marriott!” I frowned. She was right, in a way. An orphan like me had no business marrying into a family like the Marriotts. A year ago, I’d saved his grandfather from a sudden heart attack. As a reward, the old man, on his deathbed, had forced Blake to marry me. Blake had complied, but it was a marriage in name only. No wedding, just a one-line corporate announcement. He treated me like an object for his frustrations, and within a month, I was pregnant. I thought a child would bring us closer, give me the family I’d always craved. But his grandfather passed away a week before I gave birth, leaving me completely unprotected. So, this was it. She believed I had stolen her place. “But you have what you wanted now,” I pleaded. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?” “No!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “If you hadn’t married him, I never would have gone to that bar! I never would have gotten drunk, and I never would have ended up with this… this bastard child! This is all your fault, Lia! And I’m going to make you pay!” She grabbed the guard’s heavy-duty flashlight from a nearby table and lunged at me. I dodged, but the next second, she let out a piercing scream, slammed herself into the corner of the metal cot, and crumpled to the floor. The door burst open. It was Blake. “Lia! Are you insane?” 4 Blood trickled from a gash on Sophia’s forehead as she collapsed weakly into his arms. “Blake… I was just worried about her, staying in here. I wanted to see if she was okay,” she sobbed. “But she… she called me a whore and said she was going to kill me…” Blake pressed a hand to her wound, his eyes blazing with fury as he looked at me. “Lia! Sophia has been nothing but patient with you. Why do you keep pushing her?” He cradled her face. “She has a career to get back to! Are you trying to ruin her?” His rage terrified Annie, who began to scream. I tried to soothe her, my voice trembling. “Blake, are you really going to believe every word she says?” “Unlike you, she doesn’t have a history of lying and cheating!” he spat. He swept Sophia into his arms and yelled for Mrs. Gable to grab me. “You’re coming to the hospital. If that cut leaves a scar on her face, I swear I’ll break yours.” In the hospital corridor, Mrs. Gable couldn’t be bothered to watch me and wandered off to make a phone call. Annie wouldn’t stop crying; the whole ordeal had terrified her. A kind-faced, elegant woman emerged from a nearby room. Seeing my distress, she offered me a pack of diapers. “She probably needs a change,” she said with a gentle smile. I was flooded with gratitude. A complete stranger showed more concern for my daughter than her own father. After changing Annie, I saw Mrs. Gable was still on the phone. This was my chance. I clutched my baby and made a break for the fire escape. But as I rounded the corner, I ran straight into Blake, who was escorting a bandaged Sophia down the hall. He saw the direction I was heading, and his face contorted with rage. Another slap, hard enough to make my head spin. “You bitch! I should have taken your phone!” Mrs. Gable scurried back. Before I could regain my balance, Sophia, her forehead now dramatically taped, began to wail for all the corridor to hear. “Lia, please! Before you and Blake were divorced, we were just friends! How could you go online and call me a homewrecker? If you’re going to spread such awful lies about me, I might as well just die!” Blake grabbed her arm to steady her. At his subtle nod, Mrs. Gable lunged and snatched Annie from my arms. “Give me back my daughter!” I screamed, clawing at her. Blake’s hand closed around my throat, squeezing until my vision swam with black spots. Just as I was about to pass out, he released me. “Get online. Go live,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “Tell everyone you were the one who cheated. Tell them Sophia and I are innocent.” His voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. “Or you will never see your child again.” I gasped for air, my eyes fixed on my daughter. On Sophia’s signal, Mrs. Gable was pressing a handkerchief over Annie’s tiny face. She was trying to suffocate her. Annie’s cries grew muffled, then faded. Blake didn’t even look. He didn’t care. He truly did not see that baby as his own. Terror, cold and absolute, washed over me. I collapsed to my knees. “Okay! I’ll do it! Just please… don’t hurt her!” Later that day, I sat in front of a camera, holding my baby, and recited the script they’d prepared. “My name is Lia Quinn, Blake Marriott’s ex-wife,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my face. “We divorced because I was unfaithful. Ms. Sophia Marlowe is an innocent party in all of this. I made up the rumors about them. I was shameless, jealous, and cruel…” When the live stream ended, Blake handed me a new phone. “You were smart to cooperate. This has a new number. Sophia will use it to contact you.” He paused, a cruel smirk on his lips. “Sophia has a kind heart. She’s worried you won’t be able to find work, so she’s offered you a position. As a maid in our home.” I took the phone, my expression blank, and got into the staff van. At the first gas station, while the driver was distracted, I tossed the phone, clutched my daughter, and ran straight for the train station.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385855”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’ve been the family curse ever since I was a child, all because I can see the countdowns hovering over the heads of my loved ones. I saw my grandfather’s. Then my father’s. Then my mother’s. They all died, on the day their timers ran out, in a string of perfect, terrible accidents. My three older brothers decided it was my fault, that my words were a curse. They hated me for it. But my little sister, the one whose birth cost our mother her life, she grew up bathed in their love. Sophie, they called her, our little lucky star. The moment she was born, everything started going right for the family. But they forget. Mom died because of her. On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I saw my own reflection in the bathroom mirror, and a countdown of my own floating above it. So I went out and bought myself an urn I liked. Then I went home and cooked a feast, an entire table full of food, hoping for one last meal with my brothers. But the timer ran out, and I was still waiting. No one ever came. 1 It started when I was little, seeing those numbers. A clock ticking down to zero, visible only to me. The first time I saw one, it was over my grandfather’s head. I told my parents, but they just chuckled at my childish fantasy and ruffled my hair. A day later, I saw him again. He was lying in a bed, covered by a white sheet. The room was full of people crying, but I was too young to understand what it all meant. Then, the numbers appeared over my dad’s head. When I told him, his smile froze for a second before snapping back into place. That night, he didn’t come home from the office. Instead, the phone rang, sharp and frantic. My mother answered, and the color drained from her face. Her belly was huge by then, pregnant with Sophie. She ran for the door, desperate, but she was too clumsy, too panicked. She tripped on the front steps. And in that instant, as she lay on the ground, the familiar 24-hour countdown appeared over her head. That was the day Sophie was born. It was the day my mother bled out on a hospital bed, the day the doctors said there was nothing more they could do. I stood helpless in the hallway. My third brother, Ryan, shoved me to the floor. “You’re a monster,” he spat, his face twisted. “You cursed them. You killed them.” The cold floor scraped my palms, and tiny beads of blood welled up on my skin. I wanted to cry out from the pain, but when I looked around, no one moved toward me. Their eyes were filled with fear and disgust. I couldn’t make a sound. I bit my lip, pulled myself up, and brushed off my little dress, whispering to myself that it was okay. I curled myself into a ball in the corner, listening to the waves of sobs coming from her hospital room. I hugged my knees and whimpered into the fabric of my dress. “Daddy… Mommy…” I must have fallen asleep like that. When I opened my eyes again, the hallway was empty. They had all left. Why didn’t anyone wake me? Had they just… left me here? A knot of panic tightened in my chest. I scrambled to my feet, but my legs were numb from sitting for so long, and I pitched forward, hitting the hard floor again. In the sterile quiet of the long corridor, only the flickering fluorescent lights kept me company. My body ached. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I cried. From that day on, everything was different. My three brothers showered Sophie with affection, but they avoided me like I was a disease. Even the housekeepers treated me with a thinly veiled contempt. I often went to bed hungry. Still, somehow, I survived to be eighteen. Ryan always said only the wicked live long. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was so bad that death didn’t want me. 2 I climbed out of bed, my worn slippers shuffling against the floorboards as I made my way to the bathroom. My hair was brittle, my cheeks hollow. No one would ever guess I was the eldest daughter of the Hayes family. Not that it mattered. Because I could finally see it. Through the mirror, the crimson numbers hovered just above my hairline. 23:59:47. The day had finally come. I wanted to laugh, but all I could manage was a slight curve of my lips. I set my water glass down on the counter and stared at my reflection, my mind a blank slate. I had no friends, hardly spoke to anyone. How was I supposed to spend my last day on Earth? After a long while, I slowly got myself ready and descended from the attic that served as my room. My original bedroom had been converted into a walk-in closet for Sophie years ago. I used to watch her through the small attic window, a carefree girl playing on the manicured lawn, her laughter echoing in the air. I was a ghost in my own home, a secret observer of their happiness. I didn’t expect to see my second brother, Ethan, and Sophie still at home. As I came down the stairs, I heard Sophie’s bright, cheerful laugh. “Here, Ethan, let me do your tie,” she offered, full of self-importance. Ethan bent his head down, a fond smile on his face as he let her fumble with the silk. She tied a lopsided, crooked knot. Sophie stepped back to admire her work, her brow furrowed. “Oh, it looks all wrong. Maybe you should just do it yourself.” But he didn’t undo it. He just reached out and affectionately messed up her hair. “No way. It’s our Sophie’s first attempt at a tie. It’s perfect.” He smiled. “Come on, I’ll drive you to school today.” Sophie beamed and took his hand. A bitter ache spread through my chest. I remembered when I was little, knitting my first scarf. I’d stayed up for nights, my fingers clumsy and sore, until I’d finished a slightly lumpy, uneven scarf for Ethan. I presented it to him, my heart pounding, desperate for a word of praise, for the gentle head pat he used to give me. He wouldn’t even take it. His face was a dark cloud. “Who knows if I’d be cursed just by wearing it,” he’d muttered. I ended up giving the scarf to our family dog, Buddy, hoping it would make his bed a little warmer. The next day, I found it in the trash can, cut into a dozen pieces, impossible to ever put back together. Ignoring the grime, I reached in and picked out every single scrap. I took them back to my room, washed them, and put them in a box. I never looked at them again. The front door opened. Just as they were about to leave, I decided to try. “Ethan. Sophie.” They turned, their expressions shifting. Sophie’s eyes lit up for a moment. “Ellie!” she called out happily. Ethan’s face hardened. He looked like he was about to say something sharp, but a glance at Sophie made him hold his tongue. “Could we… could we all have dinner together tonight?” The words felt heavy and awkward in my mouth. I held my breath, waiting. “Just this once.” “Of course!” Sophie chirped, at the exact same moment Ethan said, “We can’t.” The two opposing answers hung in the air. Sophie looked up at Ethan, confused. “Why not?” Yes, why not? “Don’t you remember?” Ethan said smoothly. “You promised Liam you’d go with him to that charity auction. It’s tonight.” “I did?” Under Ethan’s firm gaze, Sophie’s memory seemed to suddenly click into place. “Oh, right!” She turned back to me, her face a mask of apology. “I’m so sorry, Ellie. We can’t do dinner tonight.” Then her bright smile returned. “How about tomorrow? The whole family can have dinner together tomorrow, I promise.” The whole family? A smile that felt more painful than a sob stretched across my face. The bitterness in my heart was a flood, threatening to drown me. I don’t have a tomorrow. But I nodded anyway, watching them leave. Just before the door closed, Ethan shot me a warning look, his eyes as cold and sharp as a scalpel, as if he wanted to dissect me right there in the foyer. “Eleanor,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Don’t get any ideas.” “If you do anything to hurt Sophie, you’ll regret it.” “Stay away from her.” 3 I watched them disappear down the driveway. The fragile bubble of hope that had swelled in my chest moments before popped, leaving me cold and empty, like I’d been plunged into ice water. Is that really how he saw me? A villain? A monster? My heart ached, and a sharp pain flared in my stomach. I went to the kitchen to find something to eat, but there was nothing. Nothing except half a stale bagel sitting on the counter. I used it to crack open a couple of walnuts I found in the pantry, but it did nothing to quiet the gnawing hunger. One of the housekeepers walked past, rolling her eyes in a way she thought I couldn’t see. When she noticed the bagel in my hand, she let out a theatrical gasp. “Oh, my! Miss Hayes, you weren’t going to eat that, were you? I was just about to throw it out.” Her tone was laced with false concern. “It’s a shame, Mr. Hayes and Miss Sophie are always up so early, so we make breakfast then. If you’d like something, I suppose I could cook for you now.” Her pitying act made my skin crawl. I stared at her blankly and shook my head, my stomach twisting into a tight knot. I turned and went back up to my room. There was no place for me in this house. Even the staff treated me with their own special brand of passive-aggressive cruelty. The burning in my stomach was getting worse, so intense it was hard to control my emotions. My hands trembled as I fumbled with a bottle of painkillers, dry-swallowing a couple and chasing them with cold water from the tap. The pain slowly subsided to a dull throb. I changed my clothes and put on a little makeup, trying to make myself look less like a ghost. My first stop was a funeral home. With only one day left, I couldn’t get anything custom-made. I settled on a simple, elegant mahogany box with a silver inlay. It would be my new home. I walked out clutching the urn, feeling the curious and startled glances of people on the street. I ignored them and continued to my next destination. I found myself walking past the university that my third brother, Ryan, attended. It was between classes, and the campus was alive with the sound of laughter and conversation. I watched them with a pang of envy. The vibrant, hopeful energy of youth. My own education had stopped when I was ten. Just as I was about to turn away, I saw Ryan getting out of his car near the main gate. This was my last day. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and started towards him. As I got closer, I saw he was on the phone, his brow furrowed in a serious expression. His eyes flickered towards me, and a flash of suspicion crossed his face. I heard him say into the phone, “I know. I’ll handle it.” He hung up and strode towards me. I wanted to ask him to come home for dinner, but the look in his eyes froze the words in my throat. “Eleanor,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “If you want to keep living in this house, you’ll learn to keep your pathetic little schemes to yourself.” “If I find out you’ve done anything to upset Sophie, I will personally make your life a living hell.” 4 I froze, my body turning to ice. Sophie again. I knew instantly who had been on the phone: Ethan. Of course. In their eyes, I was born bad luck, the girl who cursed her own family to death. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered Ryan’s cruelty. Right after our mother died, a kind nurse had driven me home. Ryan locked me in the small pantry in the basement. For three days, no one came. No food, no water. The memory is still a dark stain on my childhood. On the third day, just as I thought I was going to die, our oldest brother, Liam, appeared like an avenging angel. He let me out. He never asked what happened, never spoke a word about it, but over the years, he was the one who treated me with the least amount of malice. I was sure Ethan had already called him, too. Seeing my silence, Ryan must have thought I was scared. He leaned in closer, his voice a chilling whisper right next to my ear. “You know, with my resources, making someone just… disappear… is remarkably easy.” My pupils constricted. I stood there, rigid, as he turned and walked onto campus without a backward glance. I walked away, my feet moving automatically, my mind numb. My next stop was a portrait studio. The young woman at the front desk was kind. When I told her why I was there—for a memorial portrait—her eyes filled with a sympathy so genuine it hurt. She said a few soft words of comfort. And just like that, the dam inside me broke. It’s funny how the simple kindness of a stranger can undo you when your own family gives you none. I buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed, wetting her blouse with my tears. She didn’t say a word, just gently patted my back until I was finished. She was a stranger, but in that moment, she gave me more warmth than I had felt in years. After I left the studio, I just sat on a curb for a long time, hugging the urn and the portrait of my own smiling face, staring at nothing. Finally, I decided to go to Liam’s office downtown. I’d never been there before, and it took me a while to find the right building. The receptionists at the front desk stopped me. No appointment, no entry. The boss was in a meeting. I didn’t give up. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail. I tried again. And again. Nothing. I found his profile on a messaging app, the one connected to his number. It’s my last day, I typed, my fingers trembling. I just want to see you. Please. Just for a minute. I sent the message and waited, my heart hammering against my ribs. Two hours passed. The message remained unread. Time was running out. I didn’t want to die on a city street. I went home. The house was empty; the housekeeper was out running errands. The silence in the huge villa was absolute, cavernous. I started cooking early, clinging to a sliver of hope that they might come home. My phone stayed silent. No replies, no notifications. I sat at the dining room table, using a small hand mirror to watch the countdown above my head. Three hours left. All I wanted was for them to be with me. I wanted to see their faces when I died. Would they be happy? Relieved, probably. That’s what I told myself. In this world, no one cared if I lived or died. The people who were supposed to be my family hated me. I cooked a feast. Hot oil splattered onto my hand, the stinging pain a distant sensation, overshadowed by a strange, manic excitement building inside me. My body started to tremble uncontrollably. Two hours left. I sat at the table, my eyes glued to the front door. With shaking hands, I picked up my phone and called Liam one last time. “Liam.” He answered. Silence on the other end. My voice was tight, strained. “Can you… can you please come home? For dinner?” “I’m going to die.” 5 The moment the words left my mouth, I could hear my own heartbeat, loud and frantic in the silence. All this time I’d told myself I was ready for death, but now, at the end, I found myself desperate for one more look at the world. The room was so quiet I could hear the air moving in my lungs. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, his voice cut through the silence, and I felt myself fall. “Eleanor, do you really think a lie like that will make us feel sorry for you?” “You are unbelievable. The lengths you’ll go to for attention. Do you think we’re still the gullible little kids you used to fool?” “Have you forgotten how Grandpa and Mom and Dad died?” My heart shattered. No, it’s not like that! I screamed inside my head, but no sound came out. Tears streamed down my face, silent drops splashing onto the floor. I felt like a marionette with its strings cut, slumping in my chair. “I’m not lying,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash. “Please. I’m begging you. Just this once. Please?” The line went dead. Just before he hung up, I thought I heard Sophie’s happy laugh in the background, calling his name. The frantic energy that had coursed through me moments before vanished, replaced by a profound, crushing emptiness. I sat stiffly at the table laden with food and began to talk to myself, imagining them there, re-enacting the loving scenes I had only ever witnessed from the shadows. I think I was going crazy. Lost in my own one-act play, I started to laugh, a hollow, broken sound that grew louder and louder until it was choked with sobs. The minutes ticked by. No one came home. I waited until midnight. Three minutes left. I tried to look back on my life, but it was a short, simple story. There wasn’t much to review. A tragedy from the moment I was born. The final countdown began. I rested my head on the table, my urn and my memorial portrait standing beside me like silent dinner guests. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… The numbers vanished. Everything went still. The world became utterly silent, not even the sound of my own breathing to fill the void. And then, I heard a click from the front door. Someone was home.

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Declan posted a video of me, fresh from the shower in just a towel, to a group chat. It was a chat filled with all the rich kids who’d ever tried to hit on me. And Declan, of course, was the prettiest of them all. [Damn, Dec. What’s the Ice Queen really like? Give us a taste.] [He’s taking one for the team. Seducing the valedictorian to get revenge for Chloe.] [Cold-blooded, man. Telling her he has cancer right before finals. I saw her in the hall, her eyes were all red.] [Break up with her right after the exams.] I heard Declan send a voice memo. His tone was lazy, bored—nothing like the weak, pitiful act he used with me. I’d been skipping class, running to the hospital, my grades plummeting. He’d be lying there, looking pale and perfect, holding a faked hospital report. “Elara,” he’d whisper, his eyes full of “love,” “I’m so sorry. I’m dragging you down. Stop spending money on me.” He knew I was broke. He was waiting for me to give up. Instead, I pulled out another $30,000 for his “treatment.” A new message popped up in the chat. [That bastard! He’s just a pretty face! Why would Elara fall for him?!] [She sold her condo for him! It was the only thing her mom left her!] [Liam, did you ever tell her the truth?!] [OH MY GOD, YOU IDIOT! DECLAN IS IN THIS CHAT! DELETE THAT! DELETE IT!] The messages vanished, one by one. On the hospital bed, Declan’s face went as white as the sheets. 1. School was never hard. I’ve been top of my class my whole life. I also got my mother’s looks. Aside from being broke, I was the perfect package. When I was in middle school, my mother married a tech mogul. She left me a debit card and a forwarding address. “Don’t contact me,” she said. “I’ll send money once a year.” She was telling her new world she was single, and I was a loose end. I just took the card. I told everyone I was an orphan. I was born with a low emotional frequency. My mother didn’t like me. She wanted a daughter who would call her “Mommy,” even if it was a stepdaughter. Her Instagram was soon full of a girl named Chloe—the mogul’s daughter. In every picture, Mom was hugging her, and Chloe was forcing a pouty, miserable smile. It was the first time someone else’s fake smile had ever bothered me. My life was boring. My only hobby was finding people who could make me feel something. So I cashed in some bonds my grandmother left me, bought a small condo in the district for Greenwood High, and enrolled. 2. Just as I suspected, Chloe hated me on sight. She and her little clique made my life hell. I ignored it. Then, the week before district midterms, I stopped going to school. Greenwood High has been living in the shadow of Northwood High for years. My test scores were their only hope of winning. When my homeroom teacher called, I put a tremor in my voice. “Ms. Allen? I was wondering… could I transfer classes?” “Transfer?” She heard the “problem” immediately. “Elara, is someone bothering you? You can tell me.” “No,” I whispered. “It’s just… I don’t think I fit in.” I hung up, my face smoothing back to its usual calm. I’ve never been a good person. I just believe in payback. Two days later, I was called back to the school. Ms. Allen had spent a whole day reviewing security footage. She found two months’ worth of Chloe pushing, tripping, and harassing me. It went straight to the principal. Chloe had to give a tearful, sobbing apology during the morning announcements. She was humiliated. And she hated me for it. “It’s all her fault!” I heard her screeching to a guy outside a coffee shop. “If she wasn’t some stupid genius, the teachers wouldn’t protect her!” “Liam! Are you going to help me or not?!” The guy, tall and handsome, pulled her into a hug. “Shh, stop crying. Declan and I will take care of it.” “How?” “We’ll get someone to rough her up, take some pictures, and post them. Let’s see how ‘high and mighty’ she is then.” The guy, Liam, laughed. “She’s just some poor-kid overachiever. Don’t worry, Chloe. We’ll teach her a lesson. We’ll have her on her knees, licking your shoes.” 3. Suddenly, my boring life was fascinating. A lot of very rich, very good-looking guys started trying to be my “friend.” “Elara, I know this great Michelin-star spot. Let me take you,” Liam said, leaning against my locker. He was tall, maybe 6’1″, with the easy charm of a professional player. He was Chloe’s cousin. He was very public about his “crush.” Since he was the only guy I ever bothered to reply to, the whole school thought we were dating. My teacher, Ms. Allen, called us both into her office. Liam’s homeroom teacher was there, looking furious. “Liam, you need to focus on your own work,” he snapped. “Your grades are terrible. Stop distracting other students. And your father and I agree, this ‘art’ thing isn’t a career. Your portfolio is a mess.” Liam’s hands clenched. His teacher kept going. “Just leave Elara alone. You’re dragging her down.” “He’s not,” I said. The room went silent. “He’s not a distraction,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll still be number one.” 4. Liam’s pursuit was… basic. He sent bags I didn’t want and offered money. If he’d been after my mother, it would’ve worked. I’d seen her fall for it a dozen times. I finally told him, “Your grades are too low.” “Ouch,” he said. “Not all of us are geniuses, Elara.” “But your art is good,” I said. He froze. The lazy smile dropped. “You… you think so? My teachers say I’m just messing around.” “I don’t.” He started complaining, telling me his family wanted to send him abroad, that they hated his painting. I cut him off. “I have to go home.” A real player would know: never show your weakness to a girl who isn’t in love with you. “Elara, wait. Do you… want me to teach you?” Liam’s eyes were his best feature—dark, heavy-lidded, a professional heartbreaker’s eyes. I like beautiful things. “Your eyes are beautiful,” I said, smiling. “Teach me to draw your eyes.” He blushed. His hand actually trembled. He was still just a teenager. I looked at his drawing, then at my own pathetic attempt. “I guess I have no talent.” “You’re… really cute, Elara,” he stammered. I put the brush down. “It’s dirty. I don’t like things that are dirty. Men included.” His face paled. He looked at my eyes, then at his new drawing. He had sketched my eyes. Calm, empty, and totally devoid of love. He left in a hurry. I saw Chloe watching from the end of the hall, her eyes full of venom. Liam’s “precious” paintbrush was on the floor. I picked it up and dropped it in the trash. Time for the next one.

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Chapter 1 Ethan and I were together for seven years, from high school sweethearts to walking down the aisle. He proposed at our graduation ceremony, promising to treat me like the happiest princess in the world. And after we got married, he did. I had unlimited access to his bank accounts, the villa was in my name, and when my little brother needed a heart transplant, he paid the $500,000 surgery fee without blinking. Everything was perfect. Until she appeared. Lily. A scholarship student Ethan sponsored. She came from a remote mountain village and was frugal to the point of obsession. Ethan found her penny-pinching adorable. He even handed over our household finances to her. On the day of my brother’s surgery, Lily secretly swapped the matching donor heart for a pig heart. After the surgery failed and my brother died, she blinked her big, innocent eyes at me and said, “What’s the difference between a human heart and a pig heart, anyway? They both beat.” “$500,000 is way too expensive. I saved that money so Ethan could buy a new car. Isn’t that better?” I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I quietly handled my brother’s funeral. Then, I took my bodyguards and kidnapped Lily. She was terrified, screaming and struggling. “What are you doing?! Let me go! Ethan won’t let you get away with this!” I wore a black dress, my face pale as paper, my eyes cold as ice. Looking down at Lily, pinned to the ground, I spoke softly, my voice devoid of emotion but filled with a chilling resolve. “Break every bone in her body. One by one.” The bodyguards obeyed. The heavy thud of clubs hitting flesh mixed with Lily’s agonizing screams and the sickening crack of breaking bones echoed in the empty warehouse. I don’t know how long it went on. Suddenly, the warehouse door was kicked open. Ethan’s tall silhouette appeared in the doorway, backlit by the sun. Seeing the scene, his face went pale. “Stop! What the hell are you doing?!” The bodyguards froze. Ethan rushed in, his eyes immediately landing on the curled-up, bloodied figure of Lily on the floor. Pain and fury flashed in his eyes. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard I thought he’d break it. “Sarah! I know you’re grieving for Sam!” Ethan’s voice shook with suppressed rage. “But Lily didn’t mean it! She grew up poor, she’s just too frugal! She saw the price tag and got confused! Her intentions were good! You have to understand her background, respect her lifestyle!” “Respect?” I laughed. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. I looked at the man who once loved me more than life itself. Tears streamed down my face as I laughed. “Ethan, you’re talking to me about respect?” I yanked my hand away and pointed at Lily. My voice trembled with pure rage and grief. “Since she came into our house, we’ve eaten stale leftovers every day because she thinks fresh food is too expensive. I buy a jar of face cream with my own money, and she nags me for three days about waste. And now… she killed my only brother! You want me to respect her? Today, either I die, or she dies! There is no third option!” Ethan frowned, about to speak, when Lily let out a pained moan from the floor. “Ethan… it hurts… so much…” That single cry tilted Ethan’s heart completely to her side. He looked at me with disappointment and impatience. “Even if you’re angry, this isn’t how you vent! Guards! Lock my wife in the basement freezer! Let her cool off!” Pain ripped through my chest. I glared at him in disbelief. “Ethan! You wouldn’t dare!” Ethan sneered, his handsome face colder than I’d ever seen. “Watch me. Lily might not be a rich heiress like you, but she has me backing her now! You hurt her, you pay the price!” The guards moved to grab me. “Wait!” Lily suddenly gasped, weak but determined. Despite her pain, she looked worried. “Ethan, the freezer… uses too much electricity. We have to save energy.” Ethan looked at her helplessly, his tone softening. “Don’t worry, it won’t cost much.” “No!” Lily insisted, even managing a pouting tone. “You said you’d listen to me! Electricity costs money! Every penny counts!” Ethan looked at her pale face and sighed, giving in. “Fine. Whatever you say. How should we punish her then?” Lily furrowed her brow, pretending to think innocently. “Hmm… I saw an old tractor at the junkyard today that still works. Why don’t we tie Sarah behind the tractor and drag her? That doesn’t use electricity, and she can feel the pain of broken bones like I did. Two birds with one stone!” I snapped. I screamed, “Ethan! Don’t you dare! I’m Sarah! Your wife! We grew up together! You promised to protect me forever!” But Ethan just glanced at me coldly and ordered the guards, “Do as Lily says.” I was dragged out of the warehouse and tied to the back of a rusted tractor. The engine roared to life, deafeningly loud, and the machine lurched forward. The rough concrete instantly shredded my clothes and skin. Gravel embedded itself in my flesh, sending searing pain through my body. I was dragged, my body leaving a long trail of blood. I screamed his name. “Ethan! Ethan, look at me! Look at who I am!” But the man who once cherished me was carefully lifting Lily into his car, gently wiping her wounds, not sparing a single glance for his tortured wife. Chapter 2 Excruciating pain and humiliation blurred my consciousness. Before darkness took me completely, memories flooded back like a tidal wave. Ethan and I were true childhood sweethearts. Since we were kids, Ethan followed me around like a puppy, declaring to any boy who came near, “Sarah is mine!” Everyone said Ethan couldn’t live without me. On my twentieth birthday, under a rain of cherry blossoms, Ethan proposed. He said, “Sarah, I can’t wait anymore. I want to marry you and tie you to my side forever.” After marriage, he spoiled me even more. He’d drive across the city at midnight just because I mentioned craving pastries from a specific bakery. When I was sick, he’d drop everything to stay by my bedside. Every anniversary was a carefully planned surprise, ending with him kissing away my tears of joy. I thought we’d grow old together, the envy of everyone we knew. But in our seventh year, I noticed changes. Lemon candies—which I hated—started appearing in his pockets. Cheap hair ties were on his wrist. And… in moments of intimacy, he’d whisper a stranger’s name—”Lily.” I was devastated. I investigated and found a girl named Lily. Ethan had met her once and immediately taken her under his wing, showering her with care. Digging my nails into my palms, I prepared to confront her. But the day I left the house, I was hit by a car and woke up in the hospital. Ethan stood by my bed. His first words weren’t of concern, but of weary blame: “Sarah, I didn’t want to hit you. But I hope you won’t go trouble Lily.” My blood ran cold. He caused my accident? Just to stop me from confronting her? I stared at the man I thought I knew. “What is she to you?” Ethan rubbed his temples, annoyed, but finally confessed. “I wanted to hide it from you forever, but since you know… I fell in love with Lily at first sight. I like her. A lot.” He said “like” with more intensity than he ever showed when proposing to me. My heart felt torn apart. “You like her?! What about me? What about our twenty years together?!” Ethan was silent for a moment, then spoke calmly, cruelly. “Sarah, we grew up together. You were too perfect, like the moon. My feelings for you were probably just a desire to conquer, to own you. I mistook that for love. Until I met Lily. She’s so pure, so real. That’s when I understood true love.” “It’s my fault. I married you before understanding my own heart. So, as long as you don’t hurt Lily, you can stay Mrs. Vance. You’ll have the status you deserve.” He turned and left without looking back. Lying in that hospital bed, I felt like I had fallen into an ice cave. I thought it was a nightmare. A joke. But Ethan’s pursuit of Lily became public. Everyone gossiped about how he spent a fortune to make her smile, surpassing even his treatment of me. To reassure Lily, who felt “unworthy,” he moved her into our home and gave her control of our finances. Once Lily arrived, our home changed. Everything was measured by her extreme frugality. Life became chaotic and miserable, until… it led to my brother’s tragic death. The pain of being dragged brought me back to reality. As my consciousness faded, one thought burned in my mind like a poisoned vow— Ethan, I will never love you again. Never. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, my body screaming in agony. The room was empty. I struggled to sit up and discharged myself, expressionless. In the hallway, nurses whispered. “That Miss Lily in VIP is so lucky. Mr. Vance watched over her all night without blinking.” “Yeah, just a scratch, and he acted like it was fatal. Meanwhile, his wife is practically broken, and she’s all alone…” “Fate is cruel. They used to say he doted on his wife. Guess it’s out with the old, in with the new.” My heart stung, but I had no tears left. I went straight to a law firm. I pulled an old document from my bag and handed it to the lawyer. “I want a divorce.” It was a prenuptial agreement I jokingly made Ethan sign years ago. I had said, “Ethan, I don’t tolerate betrayal. If you ever wrong me, I will leave without looking back. You’ll lose me forever. Even if you kneel and beg, even if you kill yourself, I won’t come back.” Ethan had hugged me, laughing, kissing the top of my head. “That day will never come. We’ll never need this.” Now, everything had changed. And the agreement was finally being used. Chapter 3 The lawyer reviewed the document, confirmed the signatures, and declared it valid. Legally, after a one-month cooling-off period, if neither party withdrew, the divorce would be final. Regret? I smiled coldly. My only regret was not seeing through this man sooner and marrying him. I returned to the cold villa. Ethan didn’t come home for days. I didn’t care. I wouldn’t shed another tear for him. I started purging the house of Ethan. Photos, gifts, his clothes—everything went into the trash. I quietly packed my own things. Finally, Ethan returned with Lily, who was “recovered.” Seeing me, Ethan spoke flatly, with a hint of blame. “Sarah, Lily was hospitalized for a week because of you. This ends here. She feels guilty about Sam’s death, but we can’t bring him back. I bought him the best plot in the cemetery as compensation.” Lily walked in then. “Yes, Sarah, I’m sorry about your brother. But honestly, spending that much money on surgery was unnecessary. Five hundred thousand dollars? That could feed my whole village for a lifetime! Where I come from, if someone gets a disease that expensive, they just jump in the river to save their family the burden.” I dug my nails into my palms, using the pain to stay calm. “Are you done? If you’re done, move.” I didn’t want to waste words on them. Lily stepped forward. “Actually, there is something. You put me in the hospital, so I couldn’t buy discounted vegetables all week. We wasted so much money. We need to make it up. I know a spot by the river outside the city with lots of fish and shrimp. We can catch them and save on groceries for a month.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Lily! That’s a Buddhist release pond! People buy animals to set them free for good karma! If we get caught…” Lily interrupted, self-righteous. “Animals are for eating! Releasing them is a waste of money! It’s stupid!” She grabbed my arm. “Let’s go!” I yanked my arm back. “I’m not going! I have money! I don’t need to save on groceries! Get out!” Ethan’s eyes turned cold. “Sarah, you are the heiress, yes. But you are also my wife. And don’t forget, your parents are gone, your brother is gone. I’ve been managing your family’s business. I am your only support! In this house, what I say goes!” My only support… The pain was unbearable. I remembered when my parents died, Ethan kneeling before their graves, vowing to protect me forever… Now, he used that against me. I shook, holding back tears. “If I refuse, will you kill me?” Ethan’s lips thinned. “I won’t kill you. But… I can’t guarantee Sam’s grave will stay peaceful.” I stared at him, horrified. “Ethan! What did you say?!” The man who said he couldn’t live without me was threatening my dead brother’s grave? Ethan looked away. “Sarah, just be sensible. Accept reality. Get along with Lily. Listen to me.” Devastated and threatened with my brother’s resting place, I had no choice but to submit. He was right. Grief-stricken and focused on Sam’s illness, I had ignored the family business. Ethan had taken over, merging our companies and becoming a tycoon. My assets were tied to him. I had no control. If I fought now, I’d lose everything. I had to endure until the divorce was final. Then I could take my share and leave. Ethan intended to come with us, but Lily stopped him. “Ethan, go to work! Your time is worth thousands a minute! Catching shrimp isn’t worth your time! Go make money!” Ethan agreed helplessly. Before leaving, he warned me, “Sarah, Lily just recovered. Take care of her.” My heart died completely in that moment. Chapter 4 Lily dragged me to the mountain behind a busy temple. Seeing the signs—”Release Pond,” “Infinite Merit”—I realized this was her “free seafood” spot. Lily jumped into the shallow water and started grabbing fish and turtles people had just released. “Lily! This is sacrilegious! If people see us…” “Food is food!” she retorted. “Buying this just to throw it back? Wasteful! Idiots!” She grabbed more. I turned to leave. Too late. Worshippers saw us. “Hey! What are you doing?! Those are sacred lives!” A crowd gathered, surrounding us, cursing us for our “sins.” An elder stepped forward. “You have desecrated this place. You must atone! Either kneel and bow every step up the 999 stairs to the temple to ask for forgiveness, or donate $100,000 in merit money!” I opened my mouth to pay, but Lily shrieked. “$100,000?! Are you crazy?! Robbery!” She grabbed me. “Come on! Let’s kneel! I’m not paying that!” I shook her off. “I’ll pay! Leave me out of it!” Lily held on tight. “No! We didn’t catch anything, and now we pay? No way! Money is more important than life! Sarah, you rich girls don’t know hardship! You have a lot to learn from me!” I raised my hand to slap her. Lily stepped back and pulled out her phone. “Don’t! If you don’t kneel, I call Ethan! See what happens to your brother’s grave!” My hand froze in mid-air, then dropped. Humiliated and trapped, I gritted my teeth. Under the scornful gaze of the crowd, I followed Lily, kneeling and bowing up the 999 stone steps. Knees on stone, forehead on dirt. Every movement was pain and shame. By the time we finished, we were bloody and exhausted. The crowd finally let us go. It was dark. Lily, refusing to spend money on a cab, insisted we walk home. I was in agony. I walked to the road to hail a taxi. Lily rushed to stop me. “No taxis! Too expensive! Walk! It’s good exercise!” “Let go!” I struggled. We fought on the shoulder of the road. Lily yanked my injured arm. I screamed in pain and shoved her away. Lily stumbled and let go. But the momentum threw me backward, straight into the middle of the road! Headlights blinded me. Tires screeched. Impact. I flew through the air, slamming onto the asphalt. Vision fading, the last thing I saw was Lily’s panicked but unrepentant face, and the cold city lights in the distance.

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I came back to the States after six months in a leadership program in London to find a mascot had taken over my family’s company. She didn’t do a damn thing. Just lounged in her workstation, scrolling through TikToks and playing games on her phone, yet she was pulling in a salary of a hundred thousand dollars a month. I was about to lay into her when my father’s assistant, Linda, pulled me aside, her voice a hushed, nervous whisper. “Ms. Ross, you don’t understand. This girl, Kiki… she’s got a gift. On days she laughs out loud, our stock price jumps a full point.” “When we’re negotiating with a client,” she continued, her eyes wide, “if she’s the one who prints the contract, the deal always closes.” “She’s the company’s good luck charm, a walking fortune. Your father adores her. Please, don’t make an enemy of her.” I don’t believe in fairy tales. I revoked her privileges, put her on the same performance plan as every other junior employee, and slashed her salary to match her title. The next day, the company went bankrupt. The shock sent my father to the hospital with a massive heart attack. My mother, hysterical, dragged me into the car to go beg Kiki to come back. We never made it. A truck blew through a red light. There was nothing left to bury. When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I did was fire her. Because that monster could not be allowed to win. 1 The office, a space that should have been humming with focused work, was polluted by the tinny sound effects of viral videos and the overpowering stench of microwaved fish and stale popcorn. Kiki was practically horizontal in her custom ergonomic recliner, kicking her feet in the air and roaring with laughter, completely oblivious to the world around her. The few employees trying to hold a meeting nearby were whispering, terrified of disturbing her. My face was a mask of cold fury as I walked up to her, just like last time. “Is this your idea of a professional attitude?” Kiki barely glanced at me, just rolled her eyes before her attention snapped back to the screen. Her posture screamed one thing: And who the hell are you? “Ms. Ross! Over here, quickly!” My father’s assistant, Linda, scurried over, her expression just as panicked as it was in my memory. She pulled me aside, feeding me the exact same lines as before. She finished with a new, frantic addition. “Mr. Ross is in an emergency meeting and can’t be reached today. If you fire Kiki, he’s going to be furious when he gets back!” For a split second, the déjà vu hit me like a physical blow. But I shook it off, gave Linda a look I hoped was reassuring, and strode right back to Kiki. I didn’t waste any time. “Kiki, you’re fired.” The air in the office froze. Every head snapped in our direction. “Pfft! You? Fire me? Who do you think you are?” Kiki tossed the half-eaten bag of Takis she was holding onto the floor, the spicy dust puffing into the already suffocating air. “Let me give you a little friendly advice. The last person who raised their voice to me in this office is still trying to get a callback for an entry-level job.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Security? Get this woman out of my sight.” To her astonishment, no one moved. Linda rushed forward, forcing a sycophantic smile at Kiki. “Kiki, please. This is Audrey Ross, the owner’s daughter. She’s been in London for the past six months, so she doesn’t know… Please, don’t be upset.” “Oh. Well then tell her to get the hell out of my light. I’m trying to watch my stories.” She hit play and sank back into her own little world. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I never believed in any of that “good luck charm” bullshit. But in my last life, it didn’t matter what I believed. I fired her, the company collapsed, and my father’s heart gave out. It was only in the moment of my own death that I finally understood the truth. This woman wasn’t a blessing. She was a curse. And she had to be cut out. My resolve hardened. I stepped forward, snatched the tablet from her hands, and slammed it onto her desk. “This is your official notification. You, Kiki, are terminated for gross negligence of your duties during work hours.” Kiki didn’t even flinch. She just gave me another long, contemptuous eye-roll. But the other employees started to panic, their voices pleading and urgent. “Ms. Ross, please, don’t do this! The company’s performance is because of Kiki! She’s more important than you know!” “It’s true! Keeping Kiki happy is our top priority. She’s the reason we’re all still employed!” “You just got back, you don’t understand how things work now. Please, just wait for your father to get back.” My patience evaporated. “Our company’s performance,” I snapped, my voice cutting through the chatter, “is the result of our employees’ hard work and our shareholders’ investment. If we could build a successful corporation based on some New Age nonsense and a designated ‘mascot,’ we could all just quit and go burn incense at a temple every day!” My words hung in the air. Faces around the room shifted. Some flushed with embarrassment at being called out. Others hid their faces, quietly wiping away tears. And a few, the ones who had clearly been suffering under Kiki’s reign, looked at me with newfound support. “Ms. Ross is right!” one of the senior engineers spoke up. “I never believed in this good luck charm garbage! It was just a string of coincidences.” Just then, the head of marketing let out a strangled cry. “Oh my God! Northgate Industries—they just signed with our biggest competitor! That’s our thirty-million-dollar annual materials contract!” He stared at his phone, his face pale. “They’re not answering my calls! Did they block me?!” “What!” “Ms. Ross! Apologize to Kiki right now! Tell her you didn’t mean it!” “Yes, Kiki is our North Star! You made her angry and now we’re being punished! The universe is turning against us!” “You can’t let your ego sink the entire company!” The panic was infectious, the employees’ pleas turning into accusations. Kiki watched the chaos unfold, a smug little smile playing on her lips. “You know, Ms. Ross, I’m a forgiving person. Just give me a sincere, formal apology, and we can pretend this never happened.” I stared at her, my expression unreadable. “Did I stutter? You. Are. Fired.” “Fine! Fine! Don’t come crawling back to me!” Kiki shot up from her chair and stormed toward the exit, throwing me one last venomous glare. “Wait,” I said. “What? Regret it already? Too late!” She didn’t break her stride. “I wouldn’t come back to this hellhole unless you got on your knees and begged for my forgiveness in the middle of Times Square!” “Who said anything about asking you to stay? I want to settle your accounts.” My voice was calm, cutting through her tantrum. “Every single item the company purchased for you needs to be inventoried before you leave. Who knows what you might ‘accidentally’ take with you?” I started ticking items off. “Your top-of-the-line PC, your tablet, your sound system… that custom ergonomic chair that cost over ten thousand dollars, the lease on your downtown penthouse apartment, all those imported groceries and prime rib that were expensed to the company card…” “Every last cent needs to be accounted for. If one thing is missing, our next meeting will be at the police station.” “You! You! Fine! You want to play it like that?” Kiki’s face twisted into a grotesque mask of fury. A second later, it melted into the expression of a deeply wronged victim. “When Mr. Ross hired me, he said I didn’t have to do anything! He said my only job was to be happy and have fun here every day…” She sniffled. “You fire me without cause. I’ll see you at the Labor Board!” “Did you get any of that in writing? Who do you think the board will believe? Me, with security footage of you goofing off all day, every day? Or you, with your story about being a magical good luck charm?” I didn’t even wait for an answer, just pointed to a few terrified-looking junior accountants. “You, you, and you. Go with her. Conduct a full inventory and exit interview.” They froze, looking from me to Kiki. My voice dropped to ice. “You work for this company, not for her. You will do as I say and document every single paperclip. If you have a problem with that, you can follow her to HR and pick up your own severance package.” That got them moving. Kiki’s face was beet red. She stared at me as if I were already dead. Suddenly, Linda burst back into the room, her phone pressed to her ear, her face ashen. “Ms. Ross! The stock just dropped fifty percent! It’s in a freefall! The major shareholders are all calling at once! They’re saying if it drops another point, they’re pulling out completely!” The room fell into a stunned silence. A moment later, Mr. Henderson, one of my father’s oldest and most loyal executives, approached me, his expression grave. “Audrey, you’re new to this. Don’t be stubborn. Just apologize to Kiki. She’s a good kid, she’ll forgive you.” I didn’t even hesitate. “No. The decision is final.” Kiki had to go. “Audrey Ross! What is this madness! You come home with me right now!” My mother stormed in, her face a storm of anger and disappointment. She slapped me hard on the back. “The second you get off the plane you come here and act like a tyrant? And you target Ms. Kiki? I swear, you went to London to study business, but it seems all you learned was how to be a fool!” She whirled on me. “Apologize to her! Now!” Then, just as quickly, she turned to Kiki, her entire demeanor changing to one of abject humility. “Ms. Kiki, please, my daughter is just a foolish girl, don’t take it to heart. I promise you, right here and now, you will always have a place at Ross Industries. In fact, starting next month, we’ll double your salary. What do you say?” It was pathetic. Humiliating. No! I couldn’t let my mother chain us to this parasite again! Even if it meant bankruptcy, Kiki had to be expelled. In a moment of pure desperation, I grabbed a fruit knife from a gift basket on a nearby desk and pressed it to my own throat. “Mom! If you don’t let me fire this bitch today, I swear to God I will die right here in front of you!” I pressed harder. A thin line of blood welled against the steel. My mother shrieked, collapsing into tears, begging me to put the knife down. A wave of guilt and sorrow washed over me, so strong it almost buckled my knees. But I couldn’t tell her the real reason. I couldn’t tell my broken, weeping mother the truth. Not yet. “Mom! You have to choose! Is it going to be your daughter, or this… this snake?” “Okay! Okay! I won’t interfere! Just please, put the knife down!” she sobbed, wringing her hands. I dropped the knife into a wastebasket and fixed my glare on Kiki, who stood silently in the corner, her face pale and pinched. “Get out. Now. Or do you need an engraved invitation?” For the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine panic in her eyes. I saw it. But before she could move, a commotion erupted at the office entrance. “Ms. Kiki! Why would you subject yourself to this abuse? The doors of Croft Enterprises are always open for you! Five hundred thousand a month! You don’t even have to clock in, just grace us with your presence once a day. How does that sound?” A bald, portly man in an expensive suit pushed his way into the room. It was Harrison Croft, the vulture who had just poached our thirty-million-dollar Northgate contract. He was grinning, his face creasing into a fawning smile. His eyes landed on my mother and me, and his smile turned into a sneer. “See? This is what happens when you let women run things. Firing the company’s golden goose because of some petty jealousy. You think business is a tea party? You see a pretty face you don’t like and just kick her to the curb.” He winked at me, his gaze oily and repulsive. “Audrey, when this whole thing goes belly-up, you come see Uncle Harry. I’ll find something for you to do.” I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn’t risk taking my eyes off Kiki. Not for a second. “Mr. Croft, thank you for the generous offer,” Kiki said, her voice trembling artfully. “But Mr. Ross gave me my start. Even though I’ve been so terribly wronged, I feel I should wait until Mr. Ross himself tells me I’m fired. Only then can I truly move on.” She refused him. She actually refused him. In that instant, it was like a lightning strike to the brain. Everything clicked into place. I knew everything. “Forget your ‘start’! Kiki, are you that shameless?” I spat, my voice dripping with venom. “You’re not waiting for my father. You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Is that your game? You want to be the mistress? Break up my parents’ marriage?” “What is this, some kind of twisted sugar baby fantasy? You’re no good luck charm. You’re a parasite!” I turned to my mother. “Mom, don’t you see? I’m getting rid of this homewrecker for you! I won’t let her destroy our family!” I threw every disgusting accusation I could think of at her, watching the words land like physical blows. “You—you’re lying! How dare you!” Kiki’s face was now a violent shade of crimson. Humiliation finally broke her composure, and she burst into tears. It wasn’t enough. I pulled out my phone, logged into the company’s master admin system, and deleted Kiki’s security profile and keycard access right in front of her. “Get. Out.” The next second, it began. Phones started ringing all across the office, a symphony of disaster. “Multiple trucks in the transport fleet have spontaneously caught fire! We can’t make deliveries! The breach of contract fees are going to be astronomical!” “A main water line burst at the primary manufacturing plant! It’s flooding! The whole facility is underwater!” “It’s over! Someone leaked our new core technology online! It’s everywhere! Billions in R&D, just gone!” “The component we launched last month… we’re being sued for patent infringement! They’re saying we stole the technology! #BoycottRoss is trending everywhere!” “…” The bad news was a tidal wave. My mother swayed on her feet, grabbing a desk for support. “Audrey, please, stop being so stubborn…” she whispered. The employees, however, were done whispering. “Audrey Ross, you entitled little brat!” one of the men screamed, his face contorted with rage. “When this company goes under, you’ll still be a millionaire! You’ll just fly back to your fancy life abroad! But us? We have mortgages! We have kids to feed!” “My wife just had our second baby! Do you have any idea how much formula costs?” a man from accounting cried out. “Mr. Ross, I’m begging you, take back the order!” “My son’s tuition is due! If I lose this job, what am I supposed to do? My ex doesn’t pay a dime of child support! Are you trying to kill us, Ms. Ross?!” Their desperate, furious faces swam before my eyes. I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp pain a grounding shock to my system. And then, the final straw. Linda looked up from her phone, her voice hollow. “The company accounts have been frozen… due to excessive debt.” “It’s over… We’re not even going to get our last paycheck, are we?!” “Ms. Ross, please…” The woman whose son had tuition due fell to her knees in front of me. Through the cacophony, Kiki let out a small, delicate laugh. She adopted a mask of magnanimity. “Look, I don’t want to see everyone lose their jobs. But Ms. Ross has been so cruel to me today. So… how about this. If Ms. Ross kneels down and apologizes to me, I’ll stay.” Hope, desperate and ugly, flickered back to life in the eyes of every employee. Harrison Croft chose that moment to jump back in. “Ms. Kiki, you’re too loyal for your own good! Look what it gets you! Come to Croft Enterprises, I’ll have a million dollars wired to your account before you even sign the papers!” The employees’ renewed hope curdled back into sheer terror. Every single person in the room was staring at me, their breath held, their futures hanging on my next words. I finally spoke, my voice clear and steady. “I said she’s fired. And she is fired. If the company goes down with her, so be it.”

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Chapter 1 On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Julian, suddenly got amnesia. He remembered everyone—his friends, his family, even his dog—but he had no idea who I was. Today, I finally got my hands on an experimental drug rumored to restore lost memories. I ran to the private club where he’d been staying, my heart pounding. I was just about to open the door to his VIP room when I heard familiar voices. “Jules, man, faking amnesia? That is next-level. How did you even think of that? Celine has no idea. How long are you gonna keep this up before you tell her?” The laughter froze me. My smile cracked. Julian… was faking? All those nights I’d spent crying, all the doctors I’d begged, all the agony… what was it all for? A chilling cold crawled up my spine. Then I heard Julian’s voice, lazy and unbothered. “Give it another month. Then I’ll go back to Celine, play the part of the faithful, devoted fiancé.” “A month? You sure that’s enough?” one of his friends laughed. “You’ve been with, what, three different girls this week? Just break up with her. Who dates someone for seven years anyway? You’re not tired of it?” “Seriously,” another chimed in. “You’re sneaking around, faking a whole medical condition just so she won’t get mad. Isn’t that exhausting?” Julian’s voice lost its joking tone. “I will never break up with Celine. I love her. I only love her. But… seven years is a long time. We got… boring. In bed, she’s too reserved. I can’t be rough with her. This is just… hitting ‘pause.’ A little vacation. When the month is over, I’ll go back to her, and I’ll be her ‘one and only’ again.” “But, Jules,” his friend argued, “Celine isn’t the type to just let this go. If she finds out, she’ll leave you. You know how she is about loyalty.” “Yeah, man, remember that Gu kid? His girlfriend went abroad, and he’s still chasing her like a lunatic. You’re playing with fire.” Julian just laughed. “She’s mine. For life. I don’t care if she changes her name, moves to another country, or marries someone else. As long as her name is still Celine, I’ll find her, I’ll drag her back, and I’ll chain her to my side.” The room erupted in cheers. I was numb. I stumbled away from the door, walking out of the club and into the street. It was pouring. I didn’t even feel the rain. The bottle of pills I had fought so hard to get slipped from my numb fingers. They scattered on the wet pavement, dissolving in a gutter. As the medicine washed away, so did my last hope. I met Julian at the winter formal, freshman year of high school. I was the last performer of the night, and my rendition of Liszt’s “Liebesträume” brought the house down. He told me it was love at first sight. He cornered me backstage with a massive bouquet of roses. I’d heard all about Julian. He was the “King of the Campus,” with a list of ex-girlfriends as long as my arm. I hated playboys. My parents’ marriage had imploded from mutual infidelity. I had zero tolerance for it. I shut him down, hard. But he became obsessed. He chased me for three years. He was relentless. He pulled the fire alarm to get me out of a final I wasn’t ready for; he publicly rejected every girl who asked him out; he read all my favorite books, just so he could talk to me about them. I still said no. Until the summer after graduation. I was cornered in an alley by a group of guys. Julian showed up. He fought them—four of them. He got stabbed twice and almost bled out in my lap. I sat by his hospital bed, sobbing. I couldn’t understand how someone could be willing to die for another person. That’s when I knew. He was the one. We were together for seven years. From college dorms to our first apartment. He was perfect. Everyone said the playboy had finally been tamed. I believed them. Then, three months before our wedding, he was in a “car accident” on a business trip. The diagnosis: selective amnesia. He’d forgotten me. I almost fell apart. But I held on. I spent every second researching, finding doctors, trying to get him back. And it was all a lie. I walked home, my clothes soaked. I pulled out my laptop. Then I went to the courthouse. The clerk looked at me, confused by my request. “I’d like to petition for a name change,” I said, my voice hoarse. She handed me the forms. I signed my old name, and my new one. Julian would never find me. Chapter 2 The legal notice for the name change had to be published. The whole process would take a month. I booked a one-way ticket to Melbourne for the first of next month. I’d been accepted into a master’s program there three years ago but kept putting it off. Julian didn’t want a long-distance relationship. Now, there was nothing holding me back. I spent the next morning purging my life. I filled five heavy-duty trash bags with his gifts, our matching clothes, the letters he wrote me in college. I was dragging the last bag to the curb when a limited-edition McLaren pulled up. Julian got out. He had a girl wrapped around his arm. He saw me but didn’t even flinch. Of course not. He was “Julian with amnesia.” He didn’t know me. I knew why he was here. After the “accident,” he’d had his friends kick me out of our shared condo. The next day, the apartment right next door became available for a ridiculously cheap rent. It wasn’t luck. It was a cage. He was faking amnesia, but he was terrified I’d actually leave. I ignored him and dumped the last of our memories in the trash. He looked at the pile. “What’s all this?” “Trash,” I said, not looking at him. “But… that’s my varsity jacket.” I turned. “How would you remember that? You have amnesia.” He stiffened, then recovered, pulling the girl closer. “Just… curious. I don’t remember you. I’m with Lexi now. She’s the one who was there for me after my accident.” Accident. The lie came so easily. The girl, Lexi, was all makeup and micro-skirts. She was, I assumed, the “vacation” he’d found most satisfying. “Whatever,” I said, and walked back to my apartment. He watched me go, his brow furrowed. I was supposed to be crying, screaming, making a scene. My calm was confusing him. That night, my doorbell rang. It was Lexi. “Hi,” she said, chewing gum. “I’m Lexi. I’m staying with my boyfriend, Julian, next door. Since we’re neighbors, I figured I should get your number.” “No, thank you.” I started to close the door. She stuck her foot in it and snatched the phone right out of my hand. She added herself as a contact and handed it back, smiling. “Just being friendly. Oh, by the way… do you have any condoms? We just ran out. Julian is… insatiable.” My hand trembled. “No.” She laughed, a high, tinkling sound. “Right. Stupid of me to ask. I guess you’re not really using them anymore, are you? Since he dumped you.” Chapter 3 I tried to close the door again. This time, she threw herself backward onto the hallway floor and burst into tears. “Celine! I know you’re upset, but you don’t have to push me! I was just trying to borrow some sugar!” Before I could even process the ridiculous accusation, Julian was there, running down the hall. He scooped her up into his arms. He looked at me, his eyes cold with anger. “What the hell is your problem? She’s my girlfriend now. You need to respect that.” He carried her away. My hands were shaking. I slammed the door. That night, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. A video call. From Lexi. I groggily answered. The screen was filled with a close-up of pale skin, covered in dark, angry hickeys. I heard a woman’s moan. I heard a man’s low growl. I was wide awake now, frozen. Then I heard Julian’s voice, rough with lust. “You’re not… allowed to go… provoke Celine… anymore. Got it?” “But you like it,” Lexi purred. “You like that I’m naughtier than her. You like my body, don’t you? That’s why you’re here…” “You talk too much,” he growled. “Get on top.” The camera shifted. I saw his face, his eyes closed in pleasure. My stomach turned. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I hung up. I stared at the ceiling, tears burning my eyes. When we were together… he was always so gentle. So worried about hurting me. He must have been so… bored. I didn’t sleep. A few days later was my best friend Maya’s wedding. “I invited Julian,” she whispered, as I helped her with her veil. “I know he’s sick, but maybe… maybe seeing a wedding will jog his memory.” I just shook my head. As I was about to answer, I saw him. He walked in, Lexi on his arm. Maya saw them. She saw them kiss at the door. “That bastard,” she hissed, and started to march over. I grabbed her. “Maya, don’t. It’s your day. It’s… it’s almost over anyway.” She didn’t understand, but the music started, and she had to go. I sat at my assigned table. The only empty seat was next to Julian. I took it. During the dinner, Lexi was all over him. “Jules, feed me this. Jules, my glass is empty.” He did it all. He even ate a bite of cake off her fork. I just watched the bride and groom, my stomach empty. Maya’s mom put a dumpling on my plate. I picked it up. Julian’s hand shot out and slapped it onto the floor. “You can’t eat that,” he snapped. “It’s shrimp. You’re allergic.” Chapter 4 The table went silent. I just stared at the dumpling on the carpet. He paled, realizing his mistake. “I… I just remembered. Our… our housekeeper… she… she told me once.” He didn’t look at me again. He just started peeling a shrimp for Lexi. She whispered something in his ear. He stood up, grabbed her hand, and they walked out. I didn’t care. After the bouquet toss, I went to the restroom. I heard… noises. A rhythmic slapping sound. From inside the men’s room. I stopped. “You’re really something,” I heard Julian growl. “Wearing… this… to a wedding? Hmm?” “Don’t you… like it?” she panted. “I love it.” I turned around and walked away. The wedding ended. I got downstairs. Julian’s McLaren was parked out front. Lexi grabbed my arm. “Julian had to run to the office. He left the car for me. We’re neighbors, I’ll give you a ride.” I tried to refuse, but she shoved me into the passenger seat and locked the doors. She drove like a maniac. “You know he’s faking, don’t you?” she said, glancing at me. “So why are you still playing along? Why don’t you just tell him?” I ignored her. “I mean, I’m glad you’re not,” she laughed. “He’s incredible in bed. I’m happy to be his… vacation.” I just closed my eyes. Her voice turned sharp. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” She wrenched the steering wheel. I heard the horn, the screech of metal. I opened my eyes just in time to see the windshield spiderweb. I threw my arms up. Pain. Hot, searing pain in my right arm. Then, darkness. … “Mr. Fu? Mr. Fu, you have to make a choice.” A voice. A doctor. “Both patients have severe trauma to their hands. Our specialist can only operate on one at a time. The other… the other may suffer permanent nerve damage. Who do we save first?” I was floating. I tried to speak. “Julian… my… my hand… I’m a photographer… my hand…” The hand that was holding mine… let go. I forced my eyes open. I saw him. He looked… terrified. He put his hand on Lexi’s shoulder. “Save Lexi,” he said. “Save her first.”

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When I loved him the most, I wove a bracelet for Liam from a lock of my own hair. He was a die-hard pragmatist, the kind of guy who didn’t believe in anything he couldn’t see or touch. But he still wore that bracelet for me for four years. Then, on graduation day, his “little freshman” protégé, Sophie, got hurt. He rushed to the hospital, frantic, and lost the bracelet in the chaos. He just shrugged it off. “You know I don’t believe in that stuff, Claire.” A week later, Sophie gave him a bracelet. Also made from her hair. When someone at a party accidentally spilled a drink on that one, Liam’s face turned to thunder. “If anything happens to her because of this,” he snarled, “I’ll kill you.” In front of everyone, he beat the guy badly enough to send him to the hospital. In that instant, I just felt… tired. So incredibly tired. So I called my dad. “You know that Sterling heir you mentioned?” I said. “The one who’s been in a coma for five years? I’ll marry him.” 1 My thesis had some formatting issues. My advisor called, so I rushed back to campus, only to walk right into Liam in the middle of a fistfight. I was just walking by when a girl next to me grabbed my arm, craning her neck to see the action. “Damn, I never knew Liam could fight like that.” I was about to tell her she had the wrong person, but the name “Liam” froze me. The girl kept talking. “All this over a bracelet? He’s trying to kill the guy.” “Jeez, it was just a splash of latte.” “Must be from his girlfriend, then. He’s treating it like it’s made of gold.” A hair bracelet? If I remembered correctly, the one I gave Liam… he’d lost it last week. We had a massive fight about it. He said he was a realist, that he didn’t believe a bracelet made of hair could “protect him” or that losing it would bring me bad luck. He said I was overreacting. He even had the nerve to grin and say I could just make him a new one, and he’d promise to be more careful this time. I was so furious at his dismissive attitude that we had the worst fight of our relationship. We hadn’t spoken in a week. I didn’t expect to see him again like this, finding the bracelet and fighting for it. It was so unlike him. Before I could think, I pushed into the crowd to stop him. But just as I broke through, a petite girl rushed past me and threw herself straight into his arms. “Liam, stop! Please, don’t be impulsive. It’s just a bracelet, it’s not worth getting in trouble for me.” Her words stopped me in my tracks. I watched as Liam, his face already bruising, reached out and gently ruffled her hair. The gesture was shockingly natural, his smile arrogant. “It’s not every day I accept a gift,” he said, “and this idiot ruined it. I have a right to be pissed.” “Besides,” he added, “you made this from your hair to keep me safe. He got it dirty, and I was worried it would affect you. That’s why I lost my cool. Don’t be scared.” As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeve, ready to go another round. Liam’s skin is pale, and the red hair bracelet wrapped around his wrist stood out, almost beautiful. Yes, red. This wasn’t the one I made him. He’d always said bracelets were girly, “especially red ones.” That’s why the one I made for him was black. I still remembered the exact tone of disgust in his voice. Seeing that red bracelet on his wrist now, I felt like a complete and utter clown. And I recognized the girl, too. It was Sophie. On graduation picture day, Liam was supposed to be with me. He never showed. I found out later that Sophie had “fallen down some stairs.” Liam “happened to be passing by” and took her to the hospital. That’s when he lost my bracelet. I’d never been angry at him for being kind. But I never, ever thought there was something “unclear” between them. I don’t know what I was feeling. I just stood there like a puppet, completely numb, until the sirens of a police car and an ambulance arrived at the same time. The first took Liam. Sophie went with him. The second took the guy he’d beaten. The main characters were gone, and the crowd broke up. The girl who had grabbed my arm finally turned, realized her mistake, and mumbled an apology. Then she grabbed her actual roommate, and I heard them talking as they walked away. “Not gonna lie, they look good together. I saw them making out in the woods by the library the other day, too.” Her friend hesitated. “But isn’t his girlfriend in our year?” “Yeah. They’ve been together since high school. Seven years. Guess he just got bored…” Their voices faded, leaving me alone on the sidewalk. 2 Liam and I were desk partners freshman year of high school. His dad donated enough money to build the new gym. In return, our homeroom teacher treated Liam like a prince. Knowing his grades were terrible, she assigned me to sit with him—”peer-to-peer tutoring”—and wouldn’t let me refuse. I was furious. I went home to my dad. My dad immediately funded the new science wing and the library. The teacher started fawning over me. After one day as Liam’s desk partner, I was moved to the opposite corner of the room. He was a cocky, restless guy. He probably felt like I’d embarrassed him, so he cornered me in the hallway after school. He was clearly trying to intimidate me. But I can be resourceful. With the hallway full of people, I dropped my backpack, sat right down on the floor, and wailed. I accused him of being a monster who “used me and then dumped me.” People passing by stared and pointed. An 80-year-old grandma, who was there for some event, actually hobbled over and hit him with her cane. Liam’s face was bright red. He didn’t dare touch the old woman, and I was still crying on the floor, so he couldn’t move. Then, not wanting to lose the fight, I scrambled up and told the grandma it was actually me who dumped him. She asked why. I said, “He can’t get it up.” Then I grabbed my bag and ran for my life, terrified he was going to kill me. After that, we were declared rivals. We hated each other. But somehow, all that fighting… morphed. One sunny afternoon, we were sitting on the bleachers, and he suddenly turned to me. “Claire,” he said, “let’s go out.” The boy with the sharp eyes and arrogant smirk, the one who looked like he’d punch you as soon as look at you… his hands were visibly shaking. He was terrified. The sun was perfect. The breeze was gentle. It was, in short, a good day to fall in love. So we did. We both donated to the building fund again and sat together for the next three years. I dragged him through his studies, and we got into the same university. Freshman year of college, we skipped a month of classes and backpacked through Europe. At the peak of it all, I cut a lock of my hair and wove it into a bracelet for him. A charm. To keep him safe. But he was a pragmatist. He didn’t believe in charms. He just wore it. I thought it was a symbol of our love. Until he lost it. And replaced it with a new one. If that was all, maybe I wouldn’t have been so devastated. But I saw it. I saw the rage in his eyes… for another girl. Because he believed that if her bracelet was damaged, she would be hurt. When he lost mine, he didn’t care. He thought I was being dramatic. The contrast made everything so… absurd. In that moment, I felt like a joke. Pathetic and sad. My heart ached with a dull, heavy throb. I’m not the kind of person who can tolerate this. I couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen. So I called my dad. The old man was probably in the middle of something with his latest girlfriend; I could hear him breathing heavily. “Dad,” I said, “that Sterling heir you mentioned? The one who’s been in a coma for five years? I’ll marry him.” My dad always told me he’d spoil me in little things, but when it came to the family business, I couldn’t be selfish. If Liam and I didn’t last, I had to accept his arrangement. But instead of celebrating, the old man was quiet. “Claire… are you sure?” He’s a strange man, my father. I never knew my mom; he raised me himself. He doesn’t believe in true love, lives like a playboy, but he never brought a woman home or let anyone disrespect me. I’ve secretly seen him, though, drunk on the sofa, crying. Mumbling about some “heartless woman” and asking why she didn’t want him, and didn’t want me. So, when it came to my marriage, his philosophy was simple: True love is crap. Power and money are the only things you can trust. The Sterlings are top-tier. Their heir has been in a coma for five years, and no one knows if he’ll ever wake up. But if I married him, the Sterling family would give me 5% of their company stock, and my family’s business would get a massive boost. The only price was my marriage. I remember the light in his eyes when he first proposed it. “I’m your father, Claire. I’m looking out for you. Men are all the same. You gamble on ‘true love,’ and you’ll end up with nothing. Better to marry a vegetable. You get the money, the power, and he won’t be moving. Your legs still work. You can have a couple of boy-toys on the side, who’s gonna know?” He was so excited, I thought he wished he could marry the guy. I yelled at him back then, told him he was wrong, that true love was real. He just laughed at me. Said I’d learn the hard way and told me not to come crying to him when I did. “I won’t have to,” I’d said. “Liam will never make me cry.” Funny how things turn out. I’m the one with egg on my face. So, to my dad’s question, I could only answer with a bitter laugh. “Isn’t this what you always said? You can’t rely on a man.” If I can’t rely on one, I might as well listen to my father and pay him back for raising me. But the old man was still quiet. After a long moment, he asked, “Did he hurt you?” I didn’t answer. I was afraid he’d laugh at me. He didn’t ask again. But, faintly, I heard him sniffle. Tsk. Crying at his age. So lame. 3 For convenience, my dad bought me a condo near campus. He said men were heartless. Afraid that Liam had “impure intentions,” he bought the unit across the hall and hired a bodyguard to live in it. If Liam ever came over and didn’t leave by 10 PM, the bodyguard was instructed to go over and throw him out. I thought he was being so childish at the time. Thanks to him, Liam and I—for all our big talk—had never actually slept together. I was honestly afraid my dad would have an aneurysm. But Liam and I had planned to get married right after graduation. Once we had the license, my dad couldn’t exactly listen at the door anymore. I could even picture myself, hands on my hips, telling him: “See, old man? I got lucky. I found someone who loves me, and we’re going to be together forever!” He’d probably huff and puff… but then he’d say, “My baby girl deserves nothing less than that.” I’d imagined that scene a thousand times. Turns out, I’m not that lucky. And that happiness isn’t mine to have. It was late when I got back to the condo. Just as I reached my door, an arm grabbed me. I was spun around and pulled into a chilly embrace. “Claire. Are you still mad at me?” Liam hugged me tight, resting his chin on my shoulder and nuzzling me like a cat. He always does this. After every fight, he uses the same trick to make me melt. Only this time, I wasn’t going to. I shoved him. Hard. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled back, slamming his shoulder into the wall. He winced, grabbing the spot where he’d been hit during the fight. “Claire!” His voice was sharp. When I just stared at him, his expression softened again. “Claire, baby, don’t be mad. I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have lost the bracelet you gave me. Hit me, yell at me, whatever you want. Just don’t ignore me, okay?” He leaned in, his sharp features softening as he tried to look pathetic. I said nothing. I just lowered my eyes to his wrist. He was wearing a jacket, but as he’d moved, a bit of red string had peeked out from his sleeve. He followed my gaze and, for a second, his eyes darted away. “Claire, don’t misunderstand,” he said quickly, pulling his sleeve up to show me. “This is just… a regular red string.” “I knew you were still mad about the bracelet… and I didn’t know what to do… so I went to a shop and bought this one. I know you like red better, so I got this to make you happy. Please don’t be mad, okay?” He sounded so sincere. If I hadn’t seen what happened on campus today, I might have actually believed him. Unfortunately for him, I had. But I didn’t call him on it. I forced a smile. He saw me smiling and immediately tried to pull me into another hug. “Claire, is your bodyguard still across the hall? We’ve graduated now. We’re supposed to be getting our marriage license in two months. Why don’t you come to my place tonight? I miss you so much…” The implication was obvious. I suddenly wondered: Is it because I never slept with him? Is that why he’s messing around with Sophie? If that was the reason, then I truly despised him. Even though I used to love him. I sidestepped his embrace. Then, I grabbed his wrist and made a fake motion to pull off the red string. “Since I didn’t give you this one, I guess I’ll just toss… ah!” “Don’t touch it!” I hadn’t even finished my sentence. His reaction was pure reflex. He yanked his arm back, hiding it behind him, and used his other hand to shove me away. I wasn’t steady and fell hard on the floor, my tailbone cracking against the tile. “Claire! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Liam snapped back to reality, scrambling to help me up. I slapped his hand away. My bodyguard across the hall was, as always, extremely diligent. He was out the door in a second, landed another clean punch on Liam’s jaw, and then pulled me to my feet. Liam’s head snapped to the side. He was furious, but he’d just pushed me, and the bodyguard represented my dad, so he didn’t fight back. He just glared at the bodyguard. Finally, he closed his eyes and looked back at me. “Claire, I didn’t mean to do that. I just…” Before he could finish, his phone buzzed. Not a normal ring. A special ringtone, reserved for one person. He froze, but didn’t answer. The buzzing stopped. Three seconds later, it started again, more insistent. This time, he didn’t hesitate. “Claire, I have to take this, it’s really important. I’ll come find you tomorrow. I promise, I will never make you angry again.” I opened my mouth. I had so much to say. But he didn’t give me the chance. He just turned and sprinted for the elevator. I sighed. I really wanted to tell him: Liam, there is no tomorrow for us. 4 I started packing that night. With the bodyguard helping, I just had to grab my important documents; he handled the rest. While I waited, I was scrolling through my phone when the campus gossip blog lit up again. A nine-photo spread. The pictures showed Liam, storming into the freshman girls’ dorm, carrying Sophie out in his arms, and driving away from campus. The comments section was on fire. [LMAO, this is next level. Rushing to the hotel?] [Kid’s intense. Just storms the dorm to grab her? Must be in heat.] [He’s not even trying to hide it.] [Insider info: that girl got in a fight with her roommate. Her roommate is hurt way worse. Sophie got a scratch on her leg that a band-aid could fix, but her roommate doesn’t have a rich boyfriend to protect her and got warned by the RA.] [Are they sleeping together?] [Username: ILoveDogs10000: I literally saw them checking into a hotel together last month. I swear on my dog’s life, I’m not lying.] I stared at that last comment. My heart just… seized. Just then, the bodyguard finished packing my last suitcase. He looked at me, and I nodded. We left. Before I got in the car, I sent Liam one last text. Just two words: We’re done. Then I blocked his number and deleted his contact. The car was waiting. The driver, whom I didn’t recognize, just nodded at me. The bodyguard sat in the passenger seat, and we drove away. An hour later, the car stopped at a villa on the hillside. People were already waiting at the door. I followed them inside. The foyer was silent. A man who appeared to be the head butler stepped forward. “Miss Lin, your room is on the second floor, last door on the left. I’ll have Mrs. Wang show you up.” I nodded and followed Mrs. Wang upstairs. She was a kind-faced middle-aged woman. After showing me into the room, she smiled. “Mrs. Sterling said that as Mr. Julian’s future wife, you are the mistress of this house. She will not interfere in your private life, and all of us answer only to you. Your bodyguard has been given a room in the staff villa out back. Also, there is a black card on your desk. It has no limit, and you can make withdrawals. Beneath it is a stock transfer agreement. If you sign it, it’s effective immediately.” I nodded, and with her watching, I signed the contract. I handed one copy back to her. Mrs. Wang took the contract and started to leave, but paused at the door. “Mr. Julian’s room is right next door. You may go in to see him whenever you wish. If you need anything at all, you can call me.” She left, and I heard her downstairs, telling the kitchen to prepare dinner for me. I looked around the room. It was enormous. Every single detail, from the colors to the furniture, was perfectly to my taste. I walked further in and found a massive walk-in closet. It was filled with this season’s newest clothes. An entire wall was just for handbags. It was unreal. I was supposed to go home tonight. But my dad said he was busy with work and couldn’t “babysit” me, so he’d arranged with the Sterlings for me to come straight here. His exact words were: “Don’t worry, kid. Julian Sterling’s been out for five years. There’s no one else in that villa to boss you around. You go in there, you’re the queen. Oh, and their chef is amazing. The staff is all top-tier. They even developed the land behind the villa. Pools, tennis courts, whatever. Have fun. Invite friends, throw parties, whatever you want.” I’d asked him how he knew all this. He’d just rubbed his nose. “True love? That, your old man can’t give you. Probably turn rotten anyway. But everything else? I’ll make sure you have it. I won’t let you be vulnerable.” My thoughts cleared. I walked out of my room and into the one next door. If I was going to marry Julian Sterling, I had to at least see what my future comatose husband looked like. I stepped inside and saw him immediately, lying in the hospital-style bed. His eyes were closed, his face pale, but… he was ridiculously handsome. A completely different type from Liam. Julian’s features were softer, more refined. I leaned in closer, wanting a better look… and didn’t see the edge of the rug. I tripped. I fell forward, completely and totally, landing right on top of Julian Sterling. I froze in terror, afraid I’d killed him before the wedding. I scrambled to get off him, babbling the whole time. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, please don’t be crushed…” But my apology died in my throat. Because as I looked down… The man who was supposed to be in a coma… had just opened his eyes.

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My parents gave my brother all three of the family properties. A week before Thanksgiving, my younger brother, Leo, called. He wanted to bring over a pie from his company’s holiday gift basket. I said no. I tried to keep my voice steady, but I refused everything he offered. He was confused. “Chloe, what’s the deal? I gave you one last year. Why the change of heart?” Leo couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just let things be, why I had to rock the boat and make Mom and Dad upset. I didn’t answer him. For years, family togetherness felt like a Thanksgiving pie that was sickeningly sweet. And I was always the one who had to break off a piece and swallow my half, bitterness and all. 1 After I’d turned down his company’s free pecan pie for the third time on the phone, he showed up at my apartment building anyway. My phone buzzed. A text from Leo. “Hey, you home? I’m downstairs with the pie.” As if he knew I was about to say no again, he followed up with a barrage of texts: “Mom and Dad are getting older, they can’t handle all this sugar.” “Jessica’s on a health kick, so it’ll just sit around at my place.” “And it’s that fancy one from the downtown bakery you love. You said it was your favorite last year.” I stood at my living room window, watching two autumn leaves detach from a branch. A gust of wind blew them in opposite directions. “Just take it back, Leo. I told you, I don’t want it.” I texted back. “Chloe, what is going on with you? Just take it. If I go home empty-handed, Dad’s going to say I don’t care about my big sister.” Even from five floors up, I could see my brother—all six feet of him—pacing on the sidewalk like a kid waiting to be picked up from school. He looked anxious. It reminded me of the year he graduated high school. That was the year Dad got hurt at the construction site and Mom had a major health scare. We didn’t have the money to send him to the state university he’d gotten into. I quietly gave up my spot in a fully-funded grad program and got a job right after graduation. Leo had paced outside my bedroom door back then, too. “Chloe, you can’t do this. Your major is one of those where you need an advanced degree to get a good job, right?” My mom, who couldn’t stand to see her son distressed, barged into my room. “You tell your father’s side of the family that you chose to do this,” she’d ordered. “I don’t want them thinking we sacrificed our daughter just to pay the bills.” Leo, bless his heart, stood up for me like he always did. “Mom, lay off. She’s already been sending me money from her part-time jobs. Giving up on her dream is hard enough.” Seeing him being so sweet made me swallow the bitterness I felt. I forced a smile. “Don’t overthink it. That’s what big sisters are for, right?” I told myself it was okay. So Mom played favorites a little. But Dad always said he’d work his fingers to the bone to make sure I finished college. And Leo and I had been close since we were kids. We were a happy family. I had my little room in their house, a place I dreamed of whenever I was homesick at college. But the three properties—all of them—shattered that balance I’d so carefully maintained. Suddenly, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I couldn’t pretend we were still that close-knit family. 2 I dug in my heels. Leo, who was usually so easygoing, finally got frustrated. “Fine. I’m texting Mark. I’ll leave it with the doorman.” He left. When my husband, Mark, came home, he was carrying the festive-looking bakery box. The words “Happy Thanksgiving” printed on the side felt like a cruel joke. He saw my red-rimmed eyes, didn’t say a word, just put on an apron and went into the kitchen to make my favorite dinner: seared salmon with roasted asparagus and lemon pasta. I could barely manage a few bites. There was a giant lump in my throat. Mark didn’t push. He just covered the leftovers and put them in the fridge. “It’ll be here if you get hungry later.” I stared out the window at the crisp, bright moon and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the November air. What was I so upset about, really? Everything I did for them, I did willingly. After Dad’s accident, his old injuries flared up constantly, and he couldn’t work anymore. After Mom’s surgery, her back was never the same; she was always crying about her bad luck. Whenever they needed money for a hospital stay, or when they started collecting cans to help with Leo’s tuition, I stepped in. I was used to giving without expecting anything in return. When Mark and I got married, his parents gave us a generous check for eighteen thousand dollars to help us get started. My mom, who was usually so domineering, sat me down, her voice uncharacteristically soft, and asked if they could use it to pay off my dad’s lingering medical debts. My father, who had always been my rock, looked at me with such shame in his eyes, his shoulders slumped. I held back tears and talked it over with Mark. We gave them all of it. Thankfully, Leo made us proud. He didn’t have a fancy degree, but he landed a stable job right out of college and married Jessica, a wonderful girl from a well-off family. My parents sold our childhood home and used the money, plus their savings, to buy Leo and Jessica a new condo. I didn’t complain. I even chipped in five thousand dollars for their closing costs. Leo was grateful. He took on the responsibility of looking after our parents. He always sent me thoughtful gifts for my birthday and Christmas. They weren’t expensive, but it was the thought that counted. But now, with the reality of the three properties—the two rentals and my grandparents’ old house—all signed over to Leo, I woke up. I realized I couldn’t let myself be pacified by a pecan pie anymore. 3 That night, I tossed and turned. I remembered when the news came that our old neighborhood was being bought out by developers. My mom, who usually called me for the smallest things, suddenly became a master of bureaucracy, spending days in the city planning office, getting all the transfer paperwork done. My dad, who always preached that “you’re both my kids,” signed the agreement without a moment’s hesitation, putting Leo’s name on every single line. They never even thought about telling me. I found out by accident, when Jessica let it slip during a family dinner. The shock and hurt on my face must have been obvious. It felt like my own family had stabbed me in the heart. Jessica knew she’d messed up and kept apologizing. Leo pulled her into the other room to calm her down. What did my mom say then? I remember it clearly. “Chloe, you’re a married woman now. You have your own family with Mark. It’s tradition that the family assets stay with the son.” “Your brother is about to have a baby,” she continued. “That child will need a good school, a future. I have to plan for that.” I looked at my dad, pleadingly. Just a month before, he had fallen and broken his hip. Leo was swamped at work, trying to get a promotion. Jessica was pregnant, and Mom was hovering over her 24/7. It was me who stayed at the hospital day and night, who dealt with the doctors, who paid all the bills. But in that moment, my dad just lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “Chloe, you’re the successful one in this family,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “You already bought your own place. You’ll have no problem buying another one.” I don’t even remember how I walked out of their house that day. Leo ran after me. “Chloe, don’t be upset. Mom and Dad must have had their reasons for not telling you. But listen, no matter what, wherever I am, you always have a home with us.” A dull knife hurts the most. Now I understood what that meant. 4 The evening before Thanksgiving, my phone rang. It was Leo. “Hey, so, same plan as usual? Dinner at Mom and Dad’s tomorrow around noon?” I was about to say no when my mom snatched the phone. “Chloe, are you done with this childish tantrum? It’s a holiday!” she snapped. “Your cousins dropped off pies three days ago! Your brother is more thoughtful than you are—the first thing he did when he got his gift basket was think of you. He’s about to become a father, and you, his sister, haven’t shown an ounce of interest.” Mark and I both get nice holiday bonuses from our jobs. In past years, I’d take the gift cards and stock my parents’ pantry with organic groceries and fancy olive oil. I’d go to the specialty market and buy a case of craft beer for Leo and a box of artisanal cheeses for Jessica and drop them off. But this year… I was just so tired. A deep, bone-weary exhaustion had settled over me. My mother-in-law, who has been a saint helping us with our daughter ever since my father-in-law passed, always tells me to save things for my own family, that she doesn’t need much. This year, I had Mark take everything to her house. She kept saying, “Oh, this is too much, we’ll never eat all this!” But the genuine gratitude in her eyes didn’t lie. It turns out, everyone likes to feel chosen. I was the fool for listening to my mother for so long, for believing that my parents’ house was my only true home. The slap of reality stung. So, I took a breath and said to my mom, “Mom, when you gave the houses to Leo, you told me that a married daughter has her own family. I think you were right. So from now on, I need to focus on my husband’s family. The holiday bonus, the gifts, I gave them all to Mark’s mom this year. She’s worked so hard helping us with our daughter. Tomorrow, I’m taking her for a spa day to thank her. So we won’t be coming over.” The other end of the line was dead silent. Feeling a sudden drain of energy, I hung up. 5 A second later, my phone screen lit up. It was a flood of messages from Leo. “Chloe, Mom’s been helping Jessica so much with the pregnancy, she’s so stressed her blood pressure is through the roof. Did you have to provoke her?” “You know Mom has always been a little insecure that Mark’s mom was a teacher with a good pension. Why would you rub it in her face that you’re doing nice things for her?” “It’s just a few houses! Don’t you think they had their reasons for the decision? Are you really going to cut us all off over this?” I felt too exhausted to even argue. I typed back one sentence. “Leo, stop. I don’t want to hear a single word of it.” I didn’t know what else to say. Mark came over and handed me a glass of warm milk. “Drink this. Get some sleep tonight. I have a feeling you’re going to need your strength for the battle ahead.” “A battle? Don’t be so dramatic.” He gave me a wry smile. “Do you remember our wedding day?” I did. I remembered my mother practically on her knees, begging me to let them keep the eighteen-thousand-dollar wedding gift from his parents. I hadn’t wanted to, but she brought in an army of relatives to pressure me. My own mother-in-law, not wanting to see me torn, told Mark to respect my decision. I glanced at my phone. The screen lit up again. And again. Looking at the string of angry, accusatory messages, you’d think I’d just committed a federal crime.

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