Category: English

My mom is an A-list actress. On the set of a family reality show, the host asked my mom which of us three kids she loved the most. Mom gave her signature serene smile. “That’s like asking me to choose a favorite limb. I love them all equally.” My younger brother, Mason, and my sister, Skyler, exchanged a knowing look and snuggled up against her. “No matter how busy she is with filming,” Skyler chirped, “Mom always takes us on an international trip every year. We feel so lucky.” I smiled and chimed in, too. “Even though she’s never taken me abroad, she did take me to see Mickey Mouse at Disney World when we came to L.A. this time!” The moment I said it, every smile in the room froze. Because Disney World is in Florida. 1. Realizing I’d messed up, I shrank in my seat, my eyes darting nervously to my mother. She recovered in a split second, laughing as she patted my head. Her touch was feather-light for the cameras. “Oh, Chloe, sweetie. You’re thinking of Universal Studios.” The host let out a booming laugh, smoothing over the awkward moment. But the live-stream chat was already on fire. 【She’s like, what, a teenager? How can she not know the difference between Universal and Disney? I bet she’s never been to either.】 【Hold up, even if it was Universal, they don’t have Mickey Mouse. That lie doesn’t even make sense.】 【I heard this is the daughter from her first marriage, with the guy who went broke. She was dumped with her grandma in some flyover state and they only brought her out for the show to fix her image.】 【And the other two? They’re the producer’s kids. She keeps them by her side like they’re made of gold.】 A moment later, those comments disappeared. The users were banned from the chat. How dare they speak the truth? I’d never been to Disneyland. Or Universal Studios. For the past fifteen years, I’d been living with my Nana in a tiny town in Ohio. Back when my dad’s business went under, my mom filed for divorce without a second thought and moved to Los Angeles with a big-shot producer. Not long after, crushed by the weight of losing his company and his family, my dad jumped from a bridge. My mom knew Nana and I were barely scraping by, but for fear of the tabloids digging into her past, she never sent a single child support check. It was Nana who raised me, working as a house cleaner, collecting cans, doing whatever it took. Now, Nana was in the hospital. She needed surgery, urgently. I finally managed to get in touch with my mom, sobbing and begging her for the money. It just so happened that a rival actress had just leaked to the press that “America’s Sweetheart” had an abandoned older daughter. So, my mom saw an opportunity: she’d bring me on this reality show to salvage her reputation. I didn’t want to come. But she promised me ten thousand dollars after the show wrapped. Ten thousand dollars could save Nana’s life. So I came. 2. “Time for us to get our beauty sleep! No peeking, camera-bots!” Skyler said sweetly. The moment the red light on the camera went off, the atmosphere shifted. Mason stormed over and kicked my shin, hard. “You’re not even worthy of tying my shoes. Who said you could be my sister?” I clutched my leg, glaring at him. Before I could say anything, Skyler rolled her eyes. “What are you looking at? My brother’s right. You don’t even know where Disney World is. It’s so embarrassing. No wonder Mom didn’t want anyone to know about you.” The warm, maternal smile on my mother’s face had vanished, replaced by a cold mask. She looked down at me like I was a piece of trash on the floor. “This is a live show. The whole country is watching. Watch what you say,” she hissed. “If anything like today happens again, you won’t see a single penny of that ten thousand.” She yanked a worn, thin blanket from a closet. “This bed isn’t big enough for all of us. Chloe, you can sleep on the floor.” Without another glance at me, she opened her suitcase and pulled out a plush, fragrant duvet set for the bed. Seeing her other two children still making faces at me, she snapped, “What are you two still standing there for? Go brush your teeth and get to bed! Chloe can look rough, but you two have perfect skin. We can’t have you showing up with dark circles tomorrow.” I numbly picked up the thin blanket, an outsider to their warm, happy family. A familiar ache rose in my chest, and I forced it back down. Growing up, kids used to tease me for not having a mom. “That’s not true! My mom’s a famous movie star!” I’d argue, my face burning. They’d laugh. “Oh yeah? Then have your movie star mom show up for the parent-teacher conference. Otherwise, you’re just a liar.” After a while, I stopped arguing. Maybe… maybe Nana had lied to me. Maybe my mom was dead. But Nana would point to the radiant, impossibly beautiful woman on the TV screen and insist, “You have a mother. That’s her.” I’d press my face against the cool glass of the TV, trying to feel her warmth through the screen. I told myself there had to be a reason she left me. Maybe she was too busy, maybe she didn’t want me to suffer with her, maybe… Maybe she just didn’t want me. Just admit it, Chloe. Your mother abandoned you. You’re the kid nobody wanted. 3. My “Disney World in L.A.” comment made the show’s ratings skyrocket. The producers, sensing they’d struck gold, added a special segment the next morning. “We’re going to play the ‘Family Sync Challenge’!” the host announced. “The kids will write down an answer to a question, and the parent has to guess it. Your ranking determines the difficulty of your task for the day!” The host lowered the cue card, his eyes landing on me with a sly grin. “For Team Isabelle, let’s have Chloe play with her mom, shall we?” I didn’t answer. I just looked timidly at my mother. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before her perfect, camera-ready smile clicked into place. She bent down, stroking my hair gently. “I have faith in you, Chloe. Let’s do this together.” Her body blocked the camera, so only I could see the ice in her eyes. I shivered, managed a weak smile, and let her lead me to the game chairs. 4. The host blew a whistle. “First question! Kids, write down a single word on your board. Any word.” We went through the other families. When it was our turn, my mother faced the camera with practiced confidence. “I know Chloe. She definitely wrote ‘Mom,’ right?” The host flipped my board around. The camera zoomed in for a close-up. “Chloe wrote… ‘Nana’!” I flinched, not daring to look at my mother’s face. The host’s smile faltered for a beat before he quickly recovered. “Wow, it’s clear that Chloe and her Nana have a very special bond! Raised by her since she was a baby, that’s a connection you can’t replace.” My mother’s gentle expression was cracking at the edges. Her fingers tightened into a fist, but she forced a laugh. “It’s true. They’re so close, I get a little jealous sometimes.” The live chat exploded. 【Seriously? Her actual mom is right there and she writes ‘Nana’? Oof, that’s awkward.】 【If I were Isabelle, I’d be mortified.】 【OR… maybe it’s because the ‘A-list mom’ has never actually been around for her kid?】 【Don’t jump to conclusions! Isabelle is a busy woman. It’s normal for a kid who just moved from her grandma’s to be closer to her.】 Sensing the mood shifting, the host rushed to the next question. “Okay, next up! Kids, write down your favorite food!” My palms were sweating as I gripped the marker. I had no idea what my mother would guess. I could only write my truth: “Fried Bologna.” Because bologna was cheap. The few hundred dollars Nana made a month barely covered my school fees. Meat was a luxury we couldn’t afford. Most nights, our dinner was a fried bologna sandwich, maybe with a few lettuce leaves from her tiny garden. Nana would always give me the crispy, browned slice, saying she preferred the softer parts. But I’d see her carefully scraping every last fried bit from the pan for herself. I snapped back to reality as the host held the microphone to my mother. She stared at me intently, trying to read my expression for a clue. “Chloe probably likes… hamburgers? No, wait, sushi? Or maybe ice cream?” “Final answer, Isabelle!” She frowned, then her face lit up. “Cake! It has to be cake. What girl doesn’t love cake?” The host nodded, taking the board from my hands. As he revealed it, his professional smile froze solid. “Wow… Chloe’s favorite food is… fried bologna. A real down-home classic!” My mother’s eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and a flicker of disgust she couldn’t hide. It took her a moment to speak. “That’s… not very healthy, sweetie. You should eat less of that.” From the sidelines, Skyler piped up immediately. “Totally, big sister. Fried bologna is so gross. The housekeeper made it once and we threw the whole thing out.” Mason nodded, deliberately flashing the designer watch on his wrist. “If you want good food, just ask me, Chloe. I’ll have Mom buy you anything. You don’t have to eat that cheap stuff anymore.” Their words felt like tiny hammers pounding on my heart. I gripped my marker, saying nothing. The chat went wild again. 【A kid whose favorite food is fried bologna? Isabelle Vance’s daughter is surprisingly… normal.】 【She makes millions a year and can’t buy her oldest daughter a decent meal? I’m starting to feel really bad for this kid.】 【Stop twisting things! Maybe Chloe just likes it. Look at the other two, they’re clearly well-cared for. Isabelle is a good mom.】 The host pointed to the scoreboard. “Team Isabelle is still at zero points! You’ll have to get this last one right to avoid the hardest task of the day!” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Alright, for the grand finale… Kids, what is the one thing you want to do most, right here, right now?” I took a deep breath, sneaking a glance at my mother. She was holding her smile for the camera, but I could see her foot tapping impatiently. An idea sparked in my mind. I slowly, deliberately, wrote on my board: Help Mom win the game. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but for Nana, I had to take the risk. Soon, it was our turn. The host grinned at my mother. “Isabelle, the final question. What do you think Chloe wants to do most right now?” My mother was silent for a few seconds. Her eyes flicked from me to the camera, as if weighing her options. Finally, she clenched her fists. “I think… I think what Chloe wants most right now… is to help her mom win the game.” The host dramatically revealed my board. The words Help Mom win the game were written in clear, block letters. The studio erupted in applause. “And that’s the only team to get the final question right!” the host boomed. “Now that’s what I call a mother-daughter connection!” My mother’s smile was wider than ever. She walked over and pulled me into a hug. “I knew it,” she said into the microphone. “Chloe has always had her mom in her heart. She’s just a little shy about showing it.” Her arms were tight around my back, the pressure a clear warning. I stood stiffly in her embrace, a sudden sting in my eyes. It was the first time my mother had ever hugged me. And I felt nothing but cold. The chat’s opinion flipped on a dime. 【YES! They finally got one! See? That’s the bond they have!】 【Chloe is so sweet, wanting to help her mom win. This is so wholesome!】 【To everyone who said Isabelle was a bad mom, you can shut up now. Look how in sync they are!】 5. My mother was clearly pleased with this outcome. But the producers wanted more drama. They shoved a mic in my face. “Chloe, why did you want to help your mom win so badly?” My mouth opened, but no words came out. I couldn’t exactly say it was because she promised me ten thousand dollars for Nana’s surgery, could I? My mother gracefully took the mic from my hand. “Everyone knows Chloe grew up with her Nana, and they assume we’re not close. But it’s actually the opposite,” she said, her voice dripping with emotion. “Chloe’s grandmother wouldn’t let me take her, you see. I had no choice but to send money and trust that she was taking good care of her.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “But we have a mother-daughter bond. She knows how much I love her, and of course, she wants to be a good daughter to me. Isn’t that right, Chloe?” The production team pounced. “Chloe, is that true? Was it your Nana who was keeping you from living with your mother?” I bit my lip, trapped. I wanted to scream, No, that’s a lie! But I was terrified she’d take back her promise. The ten thousand dollars… Nana… Just as I was trying to figure out what to say, a production assistant rushed onto the set and handed me a phone. “Chloe! It’s the hospital… they said your Nana… she didn’t make it through the surgery…”

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He dumped me again, all because I couldn’t get him the limited-edition sneakers he wanted for his birthday. “Not enough cash? Why didn’t you just pick up a few extra shifts? Don’t make excuses for being lazy!” “Is this cheap crap all you think I’m worth?” “You never really cared about my birthday, did you?” “We’re done!” He took a pair of scissors and shredded the sneakers I’d spent three months working three part-time jobs for, sleeping only four hours a night. Then he threw the mangled pieces at me. The flying laces whipped across my face, leaving a stinging, hot welt. A wave of exhaustion, deeper than anything I’d ever felt, washed over me. “Fine,” I said. “We’re done.” And just like that, the comments popped into my vision again, scrolling across the air like a live feed only I could see. `OMG, babe, don’t break up with him! You’re his whole world! Look at him, he’s totally falling apart just hearing you say that!` `He’s just deeply insecure!!! He needs you to prove you love him through your actions! I bet you anything he’s gonna sneak back later and pick up those shredded shoes and treasure them forever!` `Yeah, he threw them at you, but trust me, his heart is bleeding. The pain he feels inside is a million times worse than the sting on your cheek!` 1 Right. He was always so insecure. That’s why he had to test me, over and over, just to prove to himself that my love was real. He loved watching me sacrifice for him. My family isn’t wealthy. To afford those sneakers he “had to have,” I was either in class, at a job, or on my way to another job. Four hours of sleep was a luxury. The moment my eyes opened, it was time to work again. I was so tired I felt like I could fall asleep standing up. To save every penny, I lived on practically nothing. A cheap granola bar for breakfast. For lunch, I’d get a cup of instant ramen from the campus store and use the free hot water from the dining hall. I couldn’t even bring myself to splurge on a ten-dollar jar of peanut butter to make the ramen taste less like cardboard. Asher would sit across from me in the bustling dining hall, his tray loaded with a gourmet burger from the grill, a side of sweet potato fries, and a vibrant kale salad. He’d even have a fancy bottled iced tea. The first time he saw me slurping my bland, watery noodles, he frowned. “God, why are you eating like you’re homeless?” But then a slow, pleased smile spread across his face as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Actually, this is good. Girls look better when they’re thin anyway. Keep it up.” I thought he’d at least show a little pity. But hearing that, a chill went down my spine. That’s when the comments first appeared. `Don’t be sad, sweetie! He’s hurting for you on the inside! He’s just addicted to the feeling of being loved and sacrificed for.` `Don’t blame him! He never had any love growing up, so he’s forcing himself to watch you suffer just to feel your love a little longer. You have no idea how hard this is for him. Aww, my poor baby, I just want to give him a hug.` So, during lunch, Asher would meticulously eat his three-course meal while watching me, with a look of pure contentment, choke down my ramen. The savory smell of his burger drifted over, making my mouth water uncontrollably. I’d have to swallow hard to keep from drooling. He never offered me a single fry. `OMG, I’m living for this!!! The angst! His girl is eating ramen every day just to save up for his birthday gift. Who’s shipping this as hard as I am?!` 2 There was another time. I worked late every night, coming home to the small off-campus apartment we shared. To save on bus fare, I got a cheap monthly pass for the city’s bike-share program. Rain or shine, I was on that bike. One night, my shift didn’t end until 2 AM. I was dragging myself home, completely exhausted. I was so tired, I felt like I could literally fall asleep while pedaling. And then, I did. One moment I was yawning, the next, I was flying over the handlebars and into a ditch on the side of the road. I was a mess of scrapes, bruises, and torn clothes. A couple of drivers saw it happen and pulled over. They were horrified and called 911 for me. While we waited for the ambulance, they kept me calm. “Hey, kiddo, you okay? My God, what are you doing out on a bike this late? It’s not safe for a young woman to be out alone.” It hit me then that I was usually terrified of the dark. The first night I had to bike home that late, with only the occasional car and my own shadow for company, I was shaking. But the thought of getting Asher that gift had somehow pushed the fear away. When I tried to get up, they stopped me. “Don’t move, don’t move! You could have a fracture. Just wait for the paramedics.” “You look like you’re just a college kid,” one of the women said kindly. “Should we call your parents?” The kindness of these strangers made my eyes well up. But when Asher finally arrived at the hospital and saw me, patched up with gauze and antiseptic cream, a flicker of concern crossed his face before it was replaced by pure anger. He lit into me immediately. “Can you stop causing trouble for one second? Is that all you know how to do, make my life harder?” “Do you have any idea that I have a midterm tomorrow? If I fail because of this, are you going to take responsibility?” “If you can’t handle the job, then just quit!” Strangers gave me comfort. My boyfriend gave me blame. The unfairness of it all was overwhelming, and tears started streaming down my face. And then, the comments were back. `Don’t cry, baby girl! He’s just saying the opposite of what he means! He’s super worried about you! Using the exam is just an excuse because he’s so scared for you. In his heart, you’re more important than any test!` `That’s just how guys like him are, all tough talk and a soft heart. The meaner he sounds, the more he cares! It’s a fact!` `You don’t even know, babe. Every night you come home late, he stays awake, waiting. He can’t sleep until he knows you’re home safe. When you see him ‘sleeping,’ he’s just pretending so you don’t feel bad.` `He loves you so, so much. He just doesn’t know how to show it.` But I really didn’t get it. If he was so worried about me biking home alone, why didn’t he ever offer to pick me up? And if I was the person he loved most in the world, why did he get so much pleasure from seeing me suffer for him, as if my pain was the ultimate proof of my love? 3 After the breakup, I moved back into my dorm. I never wanted to move in with him in the first place. When I’d initially hesitated… His face had darkened, his lips thinning into a hard line. “Why not? You don’t want to be with me every day?” I tried to explain. “No, it’s not that, I just think it’s… not a good idea right now.” “So being with me is a ‘bad idea’? Fine. If that’s how you feel, let’s just break up.” He just stood there, his fists clenched, his face pale, looking like he might shatter into a million pieces. I remembered when we first started dating. He’d held me tight and told me about his past. “When I was a kid, my mom had an affair. She divorced my dad to be with the other guy, and she didn’t want me.” “My dad, he saw her in me. It soured things. Then he remarried, had other kids. His new wife hated me, which just made him hate me more.” “I’ve never really been loved,” he’d whispered. “So I’m insecure, I’m awkward, I’m sensitive. I don’t know how to love someone properly. If we fight, I might say things I don’t mean. I hope you can be patient with me then. Just… be the one to make up with me. I’m easy to win over, I promise.” Back then, my heart ached for him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, looked him straight in the eye, and said with all the sincerity I had, “It’s okay. No one loved you before, but I’m here to love you now.” Slowly, he got used to being loved. But he never learned how to love back. The days without Asher felt… light. Unbelievably light. No more juggling school and three jobs. I could sleep a full eight hours. I could focus on my studies, hang out with my roommates, go to the mall. The only downside was how often I ran into Asher and his crew on campus. And the fact that seeing him still sent a pang through my chest. I’d remember the way he’d tilt his umbrella over me in the rain, or the time I woke up from a nap in the library with his jacket draped over my shoulders… 4 One afternoon, his friend Leo called me, his voice frantic. “Summer! Asher wrecked his bike! We’re at the bottom of the canyon roads, you need to get here now!” He hung up before I could ask anything. I knew Asher loved his custom motorcycle. I also knew he loved the adrenaline rush of racing people on dangerous roads. My mind instantly flooded with images of him, bleeding out on the asphalt. The string of logic in my brain just snapped. I ran out, desperate to get to the canyons. On my way, I was so frantic I almost got hit by a car. The bumper was inches from me—inches from death. The driver laid on the horn and cursed at me. I’d fallen, and the rough pavement scraped my hands and knees raw, embedding bits of gravel into my skin. The sting was sharp, but I barely felt it. I just picked myself up, mumbled an apology to the driver, and flagged down a cab. When I finally got there, I realized I was a complete joke. Asher was standing there without a scratch on him. His friend Leo was smirking. “See? Told you. The second she hears you’re hurt, she comes running.” “Whoa, looks like you took a tumble on your way here. See, Asher? I told you she’s not over you.” Asher’s eyes drifted to the bloody scrapes on my knees. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards—his telltale sign of a good mood. Leo nudged me. “Look, since you obviously still love him, just apologize and get back together. Stop playing games before you lose him for good.” “Asher’s a hot commodity,” another guy chimed in. “If you keep up this drama, some other girl is gonna snatch him up.” The comments were going crazy. `Babe, just apologize to him! You know his pride will never let him do it first. You have no idea how that psycho Diana has been all over him since you two broke up.` My eyes instinctively flicked to Diana, who was standing next to Asher. His childhood friend. It was common knowledge in their circle that she’d asked him out 99 times and been rejected every single time. Her 100th attempt was cut short because Asher and I had just started dating. The deafening roar of a motorcycle engine cut through the tension. I noticed another group of guys there, a rival crew. The leader, a guy with streaks of electric blue in his hair, looked at us impatiently. “Asher, you done with your little soap opera? I don’t have all day. We racing or what?” But as his eyes scanned the crowd, they landed on me, his gaze aggressive and unsettling. Asher snapped back to the moment, swinging a long leg over a sleek, powerful-looking bike. “Let’s go!” The blue-haired guy’s eyes glinted with malice. “How ’bout we make this interesting? That your girl?” He jerked his chin at me. “For this race, we each take a passenger. You take your girlfriend, I’ll take mine. If I win…” he pointed a finger at me, a sleazy grin spreading across his face, “…your girl spends the night with me.” He shrugged. “Of course, if you’re too scared to play, just say so.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Asher agreed, his voice dripping with arrogant confidence. “You’re on. Let’s see you try.” He turned to me, his eyes shining. “Trust me,” he said. “I won’t lose.” My blood ran cold. It took me a long moment to find my voice. When I did, it was firm. “I’m not doing it.” The comments exploded. `Summer, what are you doing?! He’s definitely going to win! How can you not trust him? Ugh, now you’re just gonna hurt his feelings.` `If you don’t go, you know that snake Diana will! He loves YOU, how can you reject him like this?!` `No trust at all! She doesn’t deserve his love! Get lost, you idiot!` I could only laugh bitterly. He loves me? So he uses me as a bargaining chip in a race? Isn’t the foundation of love supposed to be respect? He wasn’t even treating me like a person, just an object to be won or lost. Did he even stop to think about what would happen to me if he lost? Asher’s face clouded over. Diana immediately seized the opportunity, shooting me a triumphant look. “She won’t? I will! Asher, I trust you completely!” Asher shot me one last, cold glare. “Don’t regret this.” The prize had been swapped. The blue-haired guy looked Diana up and down, looking less than thrilled. Asher’s tone was sharp. “We playing or not? If not, get lost.” The guy reluctantly agreed. The second before the race started, Asher looked at me one last time, his eyes full of disappointment. Then, with a thundering roar of engines, they were off. The bikes tore down the winding, treacherous canyon road. Two hundred kilometers an hour, weaving through hairpin turns. The others were watching, thrilled by the danger. I had no desire to see the rest. As I turned to leave, Leo blocked my path. “Where are you going?” he sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving now.” He feigned a look of realization. “Oh, I get it. First, you refuse to ride with him. Now you’re jealous seeing Diana’s arms wrapped around his waist while they race together? You can’t have it both ways, you know.” I looked coldly at the arm barring my way. “Move.” He just shrugged. “I’ll move when Asher’s race is over.” I nodded slowly. “Okay. You won’t move.” 5 I pulled out my phone and aimed the camera at Asher’s speeding motorcycle. Leo watched me, confused. “What, you gonna tattle on him?” He scoffed. “Oh, I see. You’re filming Diana hugging him so you can hold it over his head later. You women are so petty.” Seeing that I wasn’t trying to leave anymore, he turned his attention back to the race. A few minutes later, Asher screeched back to the starting line, having left his opponent in the dust, executing a perfect, stylish drift. His friends erupted in cheers. Diana clung to him, her face flushed with excitement. “Asher!!! We won!” Over the whoops and hollers, her voice was piercingly loud. “As my prize for winning, can I get a kiss?” “Kiss her! Kiss her!” the crowd chanted. “Kiss her!” Amidst all the chanting, Asher looked directly at me. Then, without hesitation, he lowered his head, tilted Diana’s chin up, and kissed her deeply. Diana threw her arms around his neck, kissing him back passionately. It was a hot, messy kiss, and I could have sworn I saw a string of saliva connecting their lips when they finally broke apart. The comments practically leaped off my screen, trying to shield my eyes. `Babe, don’t look! It’s not real! I swear he has zero feelings for Diana, he’s just trying to make you jealous! You’re the one he loves!` `You can’t really blame him. Diana did help him win. It would have been super embarrassing for her if he rejected her in front of everyone. You have to see it from his side, too.` Seeing him kiss another girl did hurt. A little. A tight, prickly pain in my chest. But mostly, it was clarifying. A man who would kiss another woman right in front of my face, just to spite me? I didn’t want him. If he was willing to do this just to make me angry, what would he do if he got even angrier? Sleep with someone else to teach me a lesson? The thought made me sick to my stomach. We were out in the middle of nowhere, miles from campus. Getting a ride-share out here would be nearly impossible. As if to punish me, Leo said, “Hey, Summer, since you don’t like motorcycles, looks like we can’t give you a ride. Guess you’ll have to walk back. Or, hey, if you’re not scared anymore, you could ask Asher if he’ll take you.” Asher’s voice was ice. “I won’t.” Leo grinned. “Well, that’s too bad. It’s a two, maybe three-hour walk. Good luck.” Suddenly, a new voice cut in. “That’s alright. She can get a ride with us.” Leo whipped his head around, annoyed. “Who the hell are—” He stopped short when he saw several state troopers in their reflective vests walking toward them. “Illegal modification of vehicles, reckless driving, and illegal street racing,” the lead trooper said calmly. “You’re all coming down to the station.” Leo’s eyes widened in realization. “Summer! You called them, didn’t you! You little—” “You little what?” the trooper interrupted, stepping in front of Leo. “Still trying to threaten people right in front of me? You think I’m invisible?” Leo clammed up immediately. In the end, some of them were detained, and everyone got a hefty fine. I just gave a witness statement and was allowed to leave. Asher was one of the ones they held overnight. The comments were heartbroken. `The heroine is so cruel! She actually got the hero thrown in jail!` `And the idiot is still happy about it! He thinks she only reported him because she was jealous of him and Diana. My poor, poor boy.`

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I saw my newborn brother get switched at birth, and I did nothing. Because in my last life, I fought tooth and nail to keep him. The man who tried to take him destroyed my face for it. And for what? So my brother could grow up to fall in love with the charity case our family sponsored. So he could mow me down with his car to make sure she got the one scholarship spot at our dream school. As I lay dying, he stood over me, his face twisted with malice. “Don’t blame me, Sadie,” he’d said. “Blame yourself for being so stingy. You should have just given the nomination to Jade.” He’d even laughed. “You’re a monster, and you deserve every ugly thing that’s ever happened to you.” So this time, reborn in that hospital room, I chose to be a spectator. I watched, with cold, clear eyes, as my brother’s fate was swapped for another’s. 1 The sound of a baby’s cry pulled me from the darkness. I opened my eyes and found myself curled on a cot, my small body stiff. Next to me, in the hospital bed, my mother slept the exhausted sleep of a woman who had just given birth. It took me a second, but then the realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. I was back. Back on the day the man came to switch my brother. To prove it to myself, I forced my gaze toward the sound of the crying. And there he was. The man, Rick, was prying the little gold bracelet from my brother’s wrist and forcing it onto his own son’s. The movement was rough, and it made my brother wail, his tiny face screwed up in pain. Rick’s face soured with impatience. He slapped my brother—my real brother—across the face. The cry cut off into a choked silence. Then, as if sensing he was being watched, his head snapped in my direction. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart hammering against my ribs, and forced my breathing to even out, mimicking the deep rhythm of sleep. It was so different from the last time. Last time, all of three years old, I’d launched myself at the man’s leg, clinging on for dear life to stop him from taking my brother. He’d kicked me away like a dog, sending me crashing into the wall. I heard the crack of my own bones. But I’d screamed through the pain, a raw, desperate sound that finally brought a nurse running. The man, furious that I’d ruined his plan, had pulled a knife. “You stopped my boy from having a good life,” he’d snarled, dragging the blade across my face. “So you won’t have one either.” From that day on, my face was a ruin of scar tissue. I spent years in and out of hospitals. I was nine years old by the time I was well enough to start first grade alongside my brother. School was a special kind of hell. My looks made me a target for ridicule and cruelty. Even my own parents, and Liam, the boy I’d saved, looked at me with a thinly veiled disgust. My existence was an embarrassment to them. So I buried myself in books. My only goal was to get into a good college, find a good job, and get as far away from my family as I possibly could. I never imagined that in my senior year of high school, after I’d finally secured the sole nomination for the Harrison Scholarship, my own brother would murder me for it. All for a girl he’d fallen in love with. As I bled out on the asphalt, his final words echoed what he’d told me before. “You’re a monster… you deserve this.” But I was only a monster because I had tried to save him. The deepest cut, though, came after. When my parents found out what Liam had done, they didn’t blame him. Not for a second. They helped him cover it up. Helped him dispose of my body. It was then, in the fading moments of my life, that I made a vow. If I ever got a second chance, I would respect my brother’s destiny. I would not interfere. And so, here and now, I listened as the footsteps faded down the hall and the door clicked softly shut. When I opened my eyes again, the man was gone. My brother was gone with him. My mother stirred, her voice groggy. “Sadie? Was the baby crying just now?” I tilted my head, summoning the most innocent smile a three-year-old could manage. “Was he? I didn’t hear anything.” She frowned, confused. “Oh. Maybe I was dreaming.” A week later, my mother and my new, counterfeit brother, Liam, were discharged from the hospital. I was sent to preschool. This time, the teachers were kind. The other children didn’t shy away from me. There were no whispers, no pointing, no horrified stares. For the first time in two lives, I finally had the quiet, ordinary existence I had always craved. 2 Ten years dissolved in the blink of an eye. We were at the county fair, the air thick with the smell of popcorn and cotton candy, when someone bumped hard into our group and snatched Liam’s phone. I knew him instantly. The thief was my biological brother. He was nothing like the boy from my memories. He was rail-thin and grimy, dressed in clothes that looked like they’d been pulled from a dumpster. He walked with a pronounced limp. It was painfully clear that his life had been anything but easy. A memory from my past life surfaced. My brother—the real one, the one who grew up as Liam—screaming at me alongside his friends, calling me a monster. I had confronted him, my voice shaking with rage. I look like this because I saved you. He’d just sneered. I never asked you to save me. A person like me would have been fine anywhere, even with a killer for a dad. Stop trying to guilt-trip me. Now, seeing him thriving like this… I could finally breathe easy. My parents started to give chase, but I chose that exact moment to feign a fall, crying out as my knee hit the pavement. It was a calculated risk. My real brother was the spitting image of my father. If Dad got a good look at him, he’d start asking questions. In this life, without the scars, with my excellent grades, I was an asset. My image-conscious parents valued me. Just as I’d hoped, they abandoned the chase and rushed to my side. “Sadie, honey, are you okay?” My eyes followed my brother as he vanished into the crowd. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I’m okay,” I said, looking up at them. “Just scraped my hand. It stings a little.” Meanwhile Liam, furious about his brand-new phone, was cursing a blue streak. “That little piece of trash. If I ever see him again, I swear I’ll kill him.” I lowered my eyes, a quiet thought forming. This world was smaller than you’d think. I needed to do something. 3 For the rest of the day, Liam’s eyes scanned the crowd, hungry for a fight. While my parents were in the restroom, he suddenly grabbed my arm. “Sadie, I see him. That little rat.” Before I could stop him, he shot off like a cannonball. I glanced toward the restrooms—still no sign of Mom and Dad. Relieved, I took off after Liam. This time, my real brother—Finn, I would later learn was his name—was caught off guard. Liam cornered him in a narrow alley between two game stalls. Caught red-handed, Finn became defiant. “What’s your problem? You rich people have everything. Why are you so cheap, making a big deal over one stupid phone?” It was so perfectly him, the same as last time. Always turning the blame, making himself the victim. Liam laughed, a humorless, ugly sound. “Just because I have money means I’m supposed to be a doormat for every piece of garbage like you?” “Whatever, man, just chill out,” Finn shot back, his voice dripping with unearned confidence. “Here’s your phone. Now let me go. I’m a minor. Cops can’t do anything to me.” But Liam wasn’t the type to let things go. He had his real father’s temperament: he hated school and loved to fight. He shoved Finn hard against the brick wall. “Funny. I’m a minor too. As long as I don’t kill you, the cops won’t do much to me either.” For the first time, a flicker of fear crossed Finn’s face. I watched, my expression unreadable. Just like last time, when Liam had let his friends torment me. Just as Liam drew back his fist, a small figure darted between them, shielding Finn with her body. “Stop it! Don’t hurt him! Finn’s dad is really sick. He was just desperate, that’s why he took your phone.” It was such a blatant, shameless lie. Rick, Finn’s criminal father, had never been sick a day in his life. When I got a clear look at the girl’s face, my brow tightened. Of course. I knew her. It was Jade, the girl my brother had worshipped in our last life. The charity case who was the indirect cause of my death. 4 I wasn’t surprised to see her here. In the last life, she and Liam—the version of him who was my real brother—had been childhood sweethearts. Now that their places were swapped, it made a twisted kind of sense that she would be Finn’s childhood friend instead. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked pleadingly at Liam. “I’ll make sure he gives the phone back. Please, just let him go, okay?” Liam was a bully and a brute, a king in his own small, violent world. He never listened to anyone. But the sight of Jade’s tears seemed to short-circuit his brain. He softened instantly. “Okay, okay, stop crying. It’s not that big of a deal.” For a dizzying moment, I was thrown back in time. I saw Jade, crying just like this, after I’d won the Harrison Scholarship. My brother—the real one—had seen her tears and gone berserk. He’d rounded up his dirtbag friends to “teach me a lesson,” to make sure I never coveted something that wasn’t mine again. I fought like a cornered animal, but their filthy hands were everywhere. They didn’t stop until one of them ripped the surgical mask from my face. The sight of my scars made them recoil in disgust. “Jesus, it’s a monster.” “You couldn’t pay me to touch that.” “God, I think I’m gonna be sick.” My face, the source of all my misery, had saved me from something worse. When I got home, I showered for four hours, scrubbing my skin until it was raw and bleeding. Then I just huddled in the empty tub, broken. I thought I could move on. But the nightmares started. The ugly faces, the putrid smell, the hands slithering over my skin like snakes. I couldn’t even see a man on the street without doubling over, my stomach heaving. I realized then that it would never be over. It was a part of me now. So, so disgusting. A cold breeze blew down the alley, and I shivered, the memory receding. Liam noticed my pale face. “You okay, Sadie?” he asked, his voice softer than usual. I looked at him, burying the revulsion deep inside. I was about to say I was fine when Jade suddenly grabbed my sleeve and dropped to her knees in front of me. “Please, miss,” she begged, her voice thick with fake emotion. “You’re not going to let him go, are you? Please, have mercy. His life is already so hard.” I stared down at her, a long, deep look. She was a master of her craft, always positioning herself as the victim, using pity as a weapon. “Come on, Sadie,” Liam urged. “Let’s just drop it.” My voice was calm, steady. “I won’t press charges against a child. But I need to speak to his mother. I have to warn her. He needs to be taught a lesson. Today it’s a phone. If she lets this continue, who knows what he’ll do next.” At the mention of his mother, Finn, who had been watching with a defiant smirk, finally looked terrified. 5 It didn’t take long to find his mother, Brenda. She was a stocky, middle-aged woman with hard eyes. When she saw Liam and me, a flash of panic crossed her face. It was obvious she knew exactly who we were. She glanced nervously behind us, and when she saw we were alone, she visibly relaxed. “What… what are you two doing here?” I explained what had happened, and the relief that washed over her was almost comical. “Don’t you worry,” she said, her voice overly cheerful. “I’ll make sure he learns his lesson.” As she spoke, I saw Finn flinch. I nodded slowly, letting my words land with deliberate weight. “He was lucky this time. It was just me and my brother who caught him. If my parents had been there, they wouldn’t have been so forgiving.” Brenda’s expression darkened as the implication hit her. “I understand. I’ll keep a better eye on him. He won’t be causing any more trouble.” She grabbed Finn by the arm, shoved him into their small, rundown apartment, and locked the door behind him. “You stay in there and think about what you’ve done.” Finished, she turned back to Liam, her face stretched into a sycophantic grin. “Young man, would you like to come in for a soda? I just bought some cookies.” Liam wrinkled his nose in disgust. “No way. This place looks filthy.” He turned and stalked off without another word. Brenda started to follow, then thought better of it. She went back inside. A moment later, I heard Finn’s screams, followed by the sound of blows. Brenda was taking out her frustration on him. When I caught up to Liam at the end of the alley, Jade was waving to us, a sweet, harmless smile on her face. “Bye-bye, pretty lady! Bye, handsome boy!” Pretty lady? Hearing that from Jade’s lips was a novelty. The last time we’d spoken, she was leaning over me as I lay dying, whispering in my ear. “Ugly monster. This is all your fault. You should have listened to him. Now you can just die.” The memory was so vivid that for a second, I felt the phantom pain in my chest. Liam, captivated by her farewell, started to turn back, a stupid grin on his face. I grabbed his arm, my grip tight. “Come on. Mom and Dad will be worried.” In just a few minutes, he was already under her spell. If they spent any more time together, I had no doubt he’d end up just as twisted around her finger as my real brother had been. I couldn’t let history repeat itself. Reluctantly, Liam let me pull him away. He didn’t see Jade’s smile curdle into a scowl the moment our backs were turned, the innocent rabbit act vanishing as if it had never been. 6 After that day, I never saw Finn again. It seemed Brenda had taken my warning to heart. With no more distractions, I focused on my studies. Just as before, I earned the nomination for the Harrison Scholarship. This time, there was no one to stand in my way. I was accepted to my dream university. My parents, bursting with pride, threw me a lavish party. As friends and family congratulated them, my parents beamed. But whenever Liam’s name came up, their faces would fall. He was a terrible student, a magnet for trouble. They had tried everything—threats, punishments, an army of expensive tutors—but nothing worked. He remained stubbornly, defiantly himself. It was in his blood. His biological father, Rick, was the same. My dad, unaware of the genetic truth, tried to put a positive spin on it. “Liam’s just like me,” he’d say with a forced laugh. “A late bloomer. He’ll do great things one day.” My mother would chime in, her eyes pleading with me. “That’s right. Sadie, don’t you ever look down on your brother, you hear me? It would break his heart.” “I won’t,” I promised, my expression placid. I lowered my eyes, remembering a different time. My real brother calling me a monster, and my parents praising his wit, marveling at how clever he was to come up with such a rhyming insult. They had told me to stay away from him, so my “horrifying face” wouldn’t give him nightmares. The hypocrisy was suffocating. Fortunately, Liam’s spectacular failures had an upside. My parents had decided that I would be the one to take over the family business. They knew, even if they wouldn’t admit it, that leaving it to Liam would be corporate suicide. He’d bankrupt them within a year. I made a point to be kind to Liam. I defended him when our parents yelled at him, took his side in arguments. I wanted them to believe that after they were gone, I would continue to take care of him. And in a way, it was true. This was my path. In this new life, I understood one thing with perfect clarity: power was the only real protection. I had to seize every opportunity to make myself stronger, to ensure no one could ever hurt me again. I thought my life would continue on this quiet, upward trajectory. I never expected Brenda to show up on our doorstep, with my brother in tow. 7 It started when Liam got into a fight on his third day of high school. He came home with a split lip and a black eye, courtesy of another student. That student was Finn. Our housekeeper was the one who told me. She said that Finn’s mother had brought him over to apologize. To beg for my parents’ forgiveness, she had beaten Finn bloody right there on our front porch, but my parents refused to even come downstairs to see them. “Shouldn’t you go out there and tell her to stop?” the housekeeper asked, her voice laced with pity. I felt a jolt, as if I’d misheard. “What did you say the boy’s name was?” “Finn,” she replied. “I heard his dad is some kind of murderer on the run. Like father, like son, I guess. He seems like a little thug himself.” There was no doubt now. My biological brother had come to me. All those years ago, Rick had swapped the babies because he’d just killed someone. He knew he was going to be caught, and he wanted his son to have a better life. I was surprised he hadn’t been apprehended yet. But I was more surprised that Brenda would have the audacity to bring Finn here. Finn was a mirror image of our father. The second my parents laid eyes on him, they would know. They would have to know their son had been switched. Was this Brenda’s conscience finally catching up to her? Did she want to swap them back? No, that didn’t make sense. If she felt guilty, she wouldn’t be beating Finn to a pulp on our doorstep. I had to know what game she was playing. I decided to go down and see them for myself, to see my brother after all these years. My plan was to intercept them before my parents could, to get them away from the house without a scene. But as I reached the bottom of the stairs, the front door opened, and my parents walked in. My father saw me and his face hardened. “Good, Sadie, you’re here. Come with us. We’re going to meet the little punk who hurt your brother.” “He’s going to regret ever laying a hand on our Liam,” my mother added, her voice dripping with venom. It seemed fate had decided. My parents were about to meet their real son. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Let’s go.” I was no longer the helpless victim. Even if Finn returned to this family, he couldn’t hurt me. Not like before. 8 The moment I saw my brother, I understood why Brenda had dared to come. His face was destroyed. A web of angry, raised scars crisscrossed his skin, the kind of burn you get from hot oil. He was almost unrecognizable. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was responsible. Brenda had him on the ground, his body bruised and bloody. He stared up at us, his eyes burning with a hatred so pure it was almost beautiful, like a devil clawing its way out of hell. My mother gasped, taking a step back and clutching her chest. “My God, what a monster. He’s hideous. I shouldn’t have come down here. Seeing that face will give me nightmares.” Her words hit him like a physical blow. He let out a raw, agonized roar. “Shut your mouth! I wasn’t always like this! She did this to me! She threw hot oil in my face!” He struggled to his feet, trembling with rage. “Why does everyone look at me like I’m garbage? Does being ugly mean you don’t even deserve to live?” I watched him, my face a perfect mask of calm. I remembered his last words to me in our other life: You’re a monster, and you deserve every ugly thing that’s ever happened to you. Now, the words were his. The scornful glances, the disgust—it was all his now. Was this karma? Brenda just shrugged at his accusation. “It was an accident. Honestly, you’re so dramatic.” She turned to my parents, her smile slick and apologetic. “I heard my Finn here got into a scuffle with your boy. I brought him over to say sorry, and I’ve already taught him a good lesson. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive him.” She held out two gift baskets. “I hear your son is still in the hospital. I’m so worried about him. Could I… could I maybe go see him?” So that was it. She wasn’t here for Finn. She was worried about her own biological son, Liam. Before my parents could answer, Finn spat out, his neck corded with defiance, “I did nothing wrong. He called me a freak and said he was going to take my Jade away from me. He deserved it.” Brenda hit him on the back of the head. “Will you shut up? Do you know who Liam is? He’s a golden boy, born to have the world at his feet. You’re not even worthy of polishing his shoes. So what if he said a few words to you?” Finn’s face crumpled with betrayal. “Are you even my mother? You’re always taking his side. Guys like Liam are just spoiled brats who got lucky. So what? I got into that private school on a full scholarship because I’m smart.” Brenda hit him again. “You and your stupid grades. Liam is going to be a CEO someday. You’ll be lucky to be his janitor.” Finn laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “CEO? That idiot? He’s a lost cause. I heard his sister is the one inheriting everything, not him.” Brenda’s face went slack. She turned to my parents, her voice tight with panic. “Is that true?” My father’s expression was glacial. “This is a family matter. It has nothing to do with you.” “But Mr. Harrison,” she pleaded, her voice cloying. “You have to understand. A daughter gets married, she becomes part of another family. Your legacy… it has to go to your son.” She was desperate now, practically begging my parents to change their minds on behalf of a boy who wasn’t even hers. My parents looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “It’s our money. We’ll give it to whoever we want. Now get off our property.” Seeing Finn so thoroughly brutalized, they’d lost their appetite for revenge. They had the housekeeper escort Brenda and Finn out. They didn’t let her see Liam. But I knew this wasn’t over. As Brenda was being led away, she shot a look over her shoulder at me. It was pure, undiluted venom. In her eyes, I was the one stealing what rightfully belonged to Liam.

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01 I was scrolling through a Reddit thread: 【What’s the most surprisingly wholesome thing you’ve ever done for love?】 A comment from a user with a familiar avatar caught my eye: 【My girlfriend loves to… play with my backdoor. I was always worried about the smell, so I started secretly spraying my wife’s perfume back there before we’d meet up…】 I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just quietly went to my bathroom and poured a bottle of concentrated capsaicin extract into that perfume bottle. There. Now my wholesome husband could feel the heat, too. When I first saw that top-voted comment, my world stopped. It wasn’t just the shocking content. It was the avatar for the user, “AgainstTheCurrent.” It was a photo of two hands, fingers intertwined. The man’s thumb had a faint scar on it. The position, the shape, the size—it was identical to my husband Leo’s. When our daughter, Chloe, was two, she was a little daredevil. One day she tried to climb the TV stand and came tumbling down, bringing a vase with her. Without a second thought, Leo dove underneath her, breaking her fall. A shard of porcelain sliced deep into his thumb. I remember him gritting his teeth through the pain, but smiling, calling it his “dad medal.” I stared at that scar on the screen, a desperate hope flickering in my chest. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. The world is full of people who look alike. A similar scar isn’t impossible. My heart hammered against my ribs. With a trembling hand, I clicked on “AgainstTheCurrent”’s profile. It was empty. No posts, no history. But I wasn’t giving up. When it comes to a cheating husband, every woman becomes Sherlock Holmes. I clicked on his saved posts. My brow furrowed. 【10 Ways to be a 10/10 Boyfriend. Tag your man!】 【Advanced Kegel Exercises for Men: Liftoff in One Week.】 【Do Men Hit a Wall at 40? How to Fight Aging.】 【Style Upgrades That Make an Older Guy Look Younger.】 The more I read, the more certain I became. This had to be Leo. His behavior had been so strange lately. This is a man who used to think moisturizer was a scam, but now he was sneaking into my side of the vanity to use my skincare products. He’d worn the same style of button-down shirt for a decade, but now he was suddenly into fashion blogs and had even changed his hairstyle. Just a few days ago, he’d asked me out of the blue, “Honey, do I seem old to you?” I’d laughed. “You know what they say, men are like fine wine. You’re just hitting your peak.” He didn’t laugh back. He was completely serious, asking me about cosmetic procedures, where to get hair plugs, what treatments could make him look younger. “What’s with the sudden interest in all this?” I’d asked, confused. “It’s for work,” he’d said. “The company’s developing a new men’s cosmetic line. They’re making us do market research.” And I’d believed him. Looking at these saved posts now, it all clicked into place. When a man suddenly becomes terrified of aging, it usually means one thing. He’s fallen for a much younger woman. And he’s scared he can’t keep up. 02 I opened “AgainstTheCurrent”’s follow list. Among the handful of mutual follows, one username immediately stood out: “SweetDreamsAlways.” The IP address was the same as his. I clicked on her profile. The sickeningly sweet stench of a new romance hit me like a physical blow. Her page was full of posts. Each one made my stomach churn. 【Little moments: He’s in a serious meeting, but under the table, he’s secretly tracing circles on my palm. I give him a look, and he pretends he’s innocent! After the meeting, he made me stay behind to “organize the notes”… then locked the door and demanded a hug as punishment for ignoring him. The older they get, the needier they are~】 【Does anyone else get this? The jealous older man is the cutest thing! I was just chatting with a coworker for a few minutes today, and he got so pouty. Pulled me right into his office… 🙈】 【What’s it like dating a ‘dad’ type? Answer: Getting spoiled like a little girl! We were at a business dinner, and while all these executives were talking about million-dollar deals, he remembered to order me a plate of sliders with extra cheese! He spent the whole time making small talk with clients while piling food onto my plate. The client finally laughed and said, ‘Looks like you brought your kid to dinner!’】 【Hehe, who else’s almost-40-year-old boyfriend has this much energy? After a few drinks at a work event, he was all over me, whining about how soft I was… and then in the car… let’s just say a thousand words are missing here…】 I scrolled numbly, my vision blurring. Finally, I found it. The post about the perfume. 【My fanfiction dreams have come true! I can’t believe my super serious, conservative older man would do this for me… I’m crying 😭… He said he was worried I wouldn’t like his natural scent, so he makes sure to get all fragrant for me before we meet… That kind of careful, gentle love just gets me right in the feels!】 “AgainstTheCurrent” had liked every single post. Fighting back nausea, I scoured her entire account, including the comments, searching for any clue to her identity. Nothing. No pictures of her face, no personal information. Just an endless stream of nauseating flirtation. But based on her references to “the office,” “business dinners,” and “coworkers,” I was almost certain of one thing. If “AgainstTheCurrent” was Leo, then this woman was his colleague. Her tone was childish, her posts desperate to show the world how she was being spoiled by an older man. She was young. Definitely young. My mind raced, cycling through every young woman in Leo’s department. He was the Director of Marketing. He had a whole team of young, ambitious women working under him. Any one of them could be her. As my thoughts devolved into chaos, I heard a key turn in the front door. Leo was home. 03 Leo walked in humming a cheesy love song that was all over TikTok, a smile playing on his lips. He looked happy. Genuinely happy. I hadn’t seen him like that in a long time. He walked toward me, and a faint, familiar scent hit my nose. It was the gardenia perfume I’d just opened a few days ago. I shoved down the storm brewing inside me and kept my face neutral. “Hey, hon. No working late tonight?” He pulled a bouquet of roses from behind his back. “Honey, did you forget? It’s our anniversary!” Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he produced a small velvet box from his pocket. Inside was a delicate diamond bracelet. “Do you like it? I picked it out just for you.” I didn’t look at the flowers or the bracelet. I just stared straight into his eyes. “That’s funny. Fifteen years of marriage, and this is the first time you’ve remembered our anniversary. Why the sudden effort…” I paused, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Unless you did something you’re not supposed to, and this is your way of buying my silence?” The smile on Leo’s face froze. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by defensive anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” His voice shot up, as if a higher volume could mask his guilt. “I do something nice for you, I try to surprise you, and this is the thanks I get? You’re always so suspicious! Fine, don’t take it!” He slammed the jewelry box down on the coffee table with a loud thwack. I watched him calmly. “You’re overreacting. Did I hit a nerve?” “You’re unbelievable! I can’t even talk to you!” Leo’s eyes darted around the room, refusing to meet mine. He practically fled, grabbing his pajamas from the armchair. “I’m taking a shower!” That guilty back was all the confirmation I needed. Soon, the sound of running water filled the apartment. I walked quickly into our bedroom. His phone was sitting on the nightstand. I picked it up, my fingers flying as I entered the familiar password. I scanned his messages, checking every female colleague. Nothing but dry, work-related conversations. No terms of endearment, no flirty emojis. I checked his Amazon history, his Uber Eats orders. Nothing. How is that possible? For a second, I doubted myself. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe “AgainstTheCurrent” isn’t him after all. The sound of the shower turned off. Time was up. I quickly put the phone back where I found it and returned to the living room couch, my mind racing. 04 It was late. Beside me, Leo’s steady breathing filled the dark room. I stared at the ceiling, wide awake. I replayed the last few months in my head. We were high school sweethearts, married right after college. Our daughter, Chloe, was twelve now. Fifteen years. We were the model couple in our friend group, the ones people pointed to as proof that true love existed. Leo’s life was an open book. His world consisted of work, me, and Chloe. He had no female friends to speak of. His phone password was my birthday. His lock screen was a picture of me and Chloe. I knew the passwords to all his bank accounts. He never hid anything from me, and I never felt the need to check. Until last year, when he was promoted to Director of Marketing. Suddenly, late nights and business trips became the norm. But he was always transparent, telling me his schedule in advance, sharing his location, and sending pictures from his hotel room. He’d even bring back little souvenirs for Chloe. If it hadn’t been for that avatar, the word “cheating” would have never crossed my mind in connection with Leo. But there was no “if.” The scar was the same. The perfume was the same. The IP address was the same. I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. This was not a coincidence. Luckily, I had a spy on the inside. 05 The next morning, I texted Cassie, asking if she wanted to grab lunch at the cafe downstairs from her office building. She agreed immediately. Cassie was the daughter of Leo’s childhood best friend, Dave. Our families were close; we’d even bought houses in the same neighborhood. Dave was a few years older than Leo but had married young. Cassie, a senior in college, was stressing about finding an internship. Leo had pulled some strings and gotten her a position at his company. I’d practically watched her grow up. I arrived at the cafe early. A few minutes later, Cassie came jogging in, slightly out of breath. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was wearing a simple white sundress, her high ponytail bouncing as she moved. She radiated youth. “Auntie! Sorry, have you been waiting long?” Her eyes lit up when she saw the food I’d already ordered. “Wow! Short rib tacos and truffle fries! My favorites! You’re the best!” She grabbed a fry, popped it in her mouth, and fanned her tongue. “Ooh, hot, hot!” I managed a weak smile. “Take your time, no one’s going to steal it. How’s the internship going? Are you settling in okay?” She made a face, complaining through a mouthful of food. “Ugh, don’t even ask. The company just landed a huge new client, and everyone is going crazy. We’re working overtime every single day. Uncle Leo is the busiest of all. I haven’t had a proper lunch break in days…” My heart sank. Was it possible he really was just busy with work? Was I just being paranoid? Cassie took a long sip of her iced tea. “So, Auntie, what’s up? You wanted to see me about something?” I hesitated, then lowered my voice. “Cassie, I wanted to ask you… at the office… have you noticed Leo getting close to any of the other women? Especially one of the younger ones?” She tilted her head, putting on a show of deep thought. After a few seconds, she shook her head firmly. “Nope! Uncle Leo is super serious at work. He’s always got his game face on. Honestly, everyone’s a little scared of him. No one would dare get too close.” She saw the worried look on my face and seemed to guess what I was thinking. “Auntie, you’re not thinking that Uncle Leo is…” She didn’t say the word, but we both knew. She rushed to reassure me. “That’s impossible! He’s famous in the office for being a devoted husband. He’s always talking about ‘my wife’ and ‘my daughter.’ All the other women are so jealous of you!” Looking at her innocent, earnest face, I couldn’t bring myself to mention the Reddit post. I forced a laugh and made an excuse. “Oh, it’s nothing. He’s just been acting a little different lately. I was just curious.” Cassie patted her chest dramatically. “Don’t you worry, Auntie. You’ve got me watching him for you! I won’t let any hussy get within ten feet of Uncle Leo!” Her confident declaration eased some of my tension. I gave her a grateful smile. “Okay. Thanks, Cassie. I’d appreciate you keeping an eye out.” 06 After we finished eating, Cassie glanced at her phone. “Oops, break’s almost over. I’ve gotta run, Auntie!” I nodded and reached for my purse. And in that split second, disaster struck. As Cassie turned to leave, a waiter carrying a tray rushed past her. She didn’t see him. CRASH! With a startled yelp, the entire glass of orange juice on his tray went flying, soaking the front of her white dress. The waiter, pale with shock, stammered apologies while I grabbed napkins, trying to help her clean up the mess. But as my fingers brushed against her collarbone, I froze. Around her neck was a necklace. The pendant was a unique design of two interlocking rings, studded with tiny diamonds. That design… I would never, ever mistake it. It was an exact match to the bracelet Leo had given me the night before.

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The moment Ethan led me to my seat at our wedding reception—the one designed to kill me—I knew I was done. Nine times, I had replayed this life to win his love. Eight times, I had died at the hands of his adopted sister, Abby, and her murderous little games. This was the closest I’d ever come to succeeding, but the glint of fishing line on the grand clock’s hour hand told me everything. When the hand struck twelve, the taut line would trigger the crossbow hidden in a box below. And I would die. Again. The warmth of Ethan’s hand on my shoulder felt sickening. I tried to pull away, but he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. His voice was a soft, cruel whisper. “Be good,” he murmured. “Abby was up all night setting this up. What’s one more try? A tenth time’s the charm, right? I promise, next time, I won’t let her be so naughty.” So he knew. He knew everything. He knew I’d fallen for him nine times, and he knew I’d suffered nine brutal deaths because of Abby’s “pranks.” But there was one thing he didn’t know. This was my last chance. 1 I sank into the chair, numb. A part of me welcomed the release. To die was to finally be free of the pain. Ten seconds left. Abby raised her glass, calling for a toast to the happy couple. Everyone rose to their feet, their faces beaming with genuine joy, their blessings lost in the roaring buzz that filled my head. My vision blurred. Ethan grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, positioning me with chilling precision. He made sure my forehead was perfectly aligned with the firing mechanism, ensuring I would meet my end at the peak of my supposed happiness. My eyes fixed on the dark little hole that would swallow my life. I counted down in my head. 10, 9, 8, 7… A manic glee danced in Abby’s eyes. Ethan looked at her with a gaze full of adoration, as if she were the most innocent child in the world. …4, 3, 2, 1, 0! The bolt shot out like a striking viper. A wave of primal fear crashed over me, and I jerked my head to the side. Instead of oblivion, a searing pain tore through my ear. The joyous atmosphere shattered. The room fell into a dead silence. Seeing her “assassination” had failed, Abby slammed her wine glass down at my feet in a fit of pique. Red wine bled into the white silk of my dress. “Why did you move?!” she shrieked. “Do you have any idea how much work I put into recreating the ‘Wedding Murder’ trap? This was the only chance!” Ethan dropped my hand, his face a mask of disappointment. “Why didn’t you just listen? Abby was up all night. Couldn’t you have at least shown her some consideration?” “Consideration? For the fact she stayed up all night planning to murder me?” “You…” Ethan’s voice dropped to a low hiss. “It’s not like you actually die.” But it hurts! Every single time, it hurts! The guests stood frozen, their champagne flutes hovering awkwardly in the air. The standoff was broken by the small, piping voice of a child. “Auntie Aurora’s ear is bleeding!” Blood and tears streamed down my face. A few women rushed forward with handkerchiefs, dabbing frantically at the wound. Only then did Ethan grudgingly grab my arm again. “Let’s go. To the hospital.” A bitter laugh caught in my throat. What am I to you? Some cheap toy for you and your sister to break over and over again? I remember being tied up, a rope connecting my neck to my ankles, slowly strangling myself to the sound of Abby’s innocent laughter. I remember her luring me into a small, dark room, the space filled with a strange hissing. I died of suffocation, crushed against a wall, only to realize later it was the sound of an inflatable castle filling with air. I cried. I fought. I screamed. I tried countless times to prove to Ethan that his sister wanted me dead. He would always just brush it off. “It’s just childish games. How could that hurt anyone?” “She’s my sister. Can’t you just humor her for my sake?” “I’m five years younger than her! Why should I be the one to ‘humor’ her?!” “See? You’re getting worked up over nothing.” Even at my most hysterical, my most broken, I never imagined this. I never thought that he knew, from the very beginning, that I would die these agonizing deaths, again and again. I’d always believed he was just blinded by his love for the precious sister he held so dear. Now, Ethan’s voice was sharp with impatience. “To the hospital! What are you standing there for? You want everyone to see you like this? You want them to blame Abby? You already ruined her plan, are you trying to make her look like the villain, too?” I hadn’t said a word, but he had already spoken my indictment and delivered his verdict. I wrenched my arm from his grasp, turned, and yanked the crossbow bolt from the floral wall behind the main table. It was embedded, with perfect, sickening irony, directly in the heart drawn between my name and his. The bloodied tip gleamed under the chandeliers. I shoved it in Abby’s face. “At my wedding to your brother, what exactly do you think you’re doing? If our marriage bothers you that much, just say so. I’ll give him to you. You don’t have to kill me for it!” The color drained from her face, then flooded back in a blotchy red. “We’re just like brother and sister! What are you talking about?! You’re the one with a sick mind! Besides, this thing can’t even hurt anyone. I can’t be bothered explaining it to someone with no sense of fun!” I pressed the arrowhead against her cheek. “Can’t hurt anyone? Let’s find out.” Before I could apply any pressure, Ethan lunged, his hand clamping around my wrist like a vice. The fury in his eyes was a terrifying inferno I’d never seen before. After all the times Abby had experimented on me—tying me to a windmill, cutting the rope to a crystal chandelier above my head, stretching fishing line across a bike path—the harshest he’d ever been was a soft-spoken “warning” for her not to be so mischievous. The difference between being loved and not being loved was so painfully clear. I stubbornly held onto the bolt. Ethan’s grip tightened. A sharp crack echoed as my wrist bone snapped, and the bolt clattered to the floor. Abby snatched it up, and in a flash of movement, dragged the sharp point across my cheek, leaving a deep gash. Then she darted behind Ethan, peering out at me with wide, innocent eyes. I screamed and lunged for her, but Ethan blocked my path again. “Aurora,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “You started it. You can’t blame Abby for this.” He must have been terrified his precious darling would get hurt. He swept me into his arms, carried me out to the car, and drove me to the hospital. In the sterile white room, Ethan sat by my bed, studying the twenty-something stitches that now marred my face. “Does it hurt?” he asked. My ear, torn and mangled. My wrist, shattered. My face, sliced open and bleeding. This was the grand wedding you promised me, Ethan. And you have the audacity to ask if it hurts? Before I could answer, he continued. “So why did you have to be so stubborn? I told you this was the last time. Why couldn’t you just grant her this one last wish? She came to my family when she was three, always feeling like an outsider. She’s drawn to these things because the child inside her never had a chance to grow up. She’s not trying to hurt you; she’s trying to soothe herself. Once you come back next time, we can help her find an outlet, a new purpose. It would have all been fine.” I pushed myself up, ignoring the shooting pains, and pointed a trembling finger toward the door. “Get out.” My voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. “I can’t ‘love her because I love you.’ And besides, with a brother who dotes on her like you do, how could she ever feel like an outsider? And just so you know, there won’t be a next time.” He let out a long, heavy sigh and took my hand. “Please, don’t say things like that. She’s my sister. I’ve always known nothing could ever happen between us. You don’t need to be jealous. You know you’re the one I love.” But the frustration and regret in his eyes told a different story. It must be painful to be toyed with by fate. I understood that feeling all too well. So, I decided to set them both free. I pulled my hand away and began twisting the wedding ring on my finger, trying to get it over my knuckle. He dropped to one knee beside my bed, his voice pleading. “Aurora, please, stop this. We’ll have another wedding. A better one, even grander than this!” Then, as if he were reciting a vow, or maybe just trying to convince himself, he said, “I remember the first time. When Abby electrocuted you in the tub. The way my heart broke when I found you… that was love, wasn’t it? And the next morning, when I woke up and the day had reset to when we first met, the joy I felt… that was love, too.” The system must have glitched, I realized. It hadn’t wiped his memory. Listening to him list the evidence of his love so calmly, I felt a wave of profound exhaustion and disgust wash over me. Just then, an orderly opened the door to the en-suite bathroom. A moment later, Abby’s hysterical sobs erupted from inside. “You’re begging her, brother?!” Panic flared in Ethan’s eyes. He shot into the bathroom and emerged carrying Abby, then bolted from the room without a second glance. Before I could process what was happening, a sharp, acrid smell drifted into the room. Dizziness washed over me. What was she up to now? I stumbled out of bed and staggered into the hallway, just in time to see Abby curled in Ethan’s arms on the stairwell, sobbing like a lost child. “You just left with her! You’re abandoning me, aren’t you?! Fine! Then let’s just die together!” She had disguised herself as an orderly to sneak into my room, mixed disinfectant and toilet cleaner to create toxic gas, all to stage this dramatic, tragic love scene. And there they sat, clinging to each other on the stairs, a perfect portrait of star-crossed lovers. As if I didn’t even exist. Ethan gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her tear-streaked face. “We’ll have another wedding for Aurora,” he soothed. “And I’ll help you build another device, a better one. Just for her. Please don’t be sad anymore, okay?” But Abby only cried harder. “Go ahead! Go be happy with her! Why do you even care about me?! And what’s the point? The trick has been revealed! We could do it ten more times and it wouldn’t be the same! That perfect moment is gone forever, and it’s your fault! You owe me this!” Seeing her like this, Ethan looked as though his heart was being torn to shreds. His eyes were wild with panic and self-reproach. Without a moment’s hesitation, the words tumbled out of his mouth. “Whatever you want. Tell me how you want her to die, and I’ll make it happen.”

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Julian Astor had that kind of aura. The kind you read about. I decided he was the perfect “first love.” Even if we broke up, the memory alone would be worth it. So, I chased him. Hard. He was finally cornered, and maybe a little charmed, so he agreed to date me. But he had rules. A three-point contract: We date. We do not get married. We break up the day we graduate. I agreed immediately. We were together for three years, performing the part of the perfect college romance. The day we graduated, I was the one who brought it up. “Well, this is it.” He refused. I was stunned. “But we had a deal! We agreed. Graduate, then break up.” I remember clearly how that conversation ended. It was a disaster. Julian, who never had to lower his head for anyone, gave this broken, self-deprecating laugh. “Summer,” he said, “you better pray we never see each other again.” From that day on, I avoided his entire world. But sometimes, God just flicks a domino, and no matter how big the world is, two people are destined to collide. 1 Julian and I had an unspoken rule. We were a campus-only couple. The second we left for a holiday, we were done. We went back to our respective homes and had zero contact. In those silent weeks, he was Julian Astor, the heir to a New York dynasty. I was just Summer Davis from Charlotte, North Carolina. No texts. No calls. We didn’t ask where the other was. It was like we were single again. I thought this… niche… arrangement would work perfectly until we broke up. But sophomore year, the summer break was unusually long. Eighty days. Before we left, he asked me, “Will you miss me?” I wrapped my arms around his neck, playing the part. “Mmm, I’ll miss you so much.” He just kissed the top of my head. He didn’t say, “Text me if you do.” That’s what I loved about Julian. He was logical. His family was top-tier. His future wife would be chosen from the same pool. We both knew we had no future. This was just… an experience. A taste of a normal college romance. And I, apparently, was his “type.” On campus, I was his girlfriend. Off campus, when he was “Julian Astor,” he didn’t want to be disturbed. I played my part perfectly. I never crossed the line. I never, ever expected him to be the one to break the rules. The summer was dragging on. He texted me. He was coming back to campus early. A full month before classes started. I was shocked. I teased him: Why, miss me already? He never replied to that text. But after that, the rules started to bend. During the next long break, he asked, “Want to go on a trip?” Most of the time, I said yes. We went everywhere. We watched the stars in Joshua Tree. We saw the sunset over the Keys. I’d get lost in the view, and he’d always startle me by kissing me. He loved to cup my face, that dominant, top-down kiss. He always liked being in control, liked seeing me overwhelmed. But every single time, right at the critical moment, I’d be the one to kill the mood. I’d stop him. Julian, his eyes dark with desire, his throat working, would just raise an eyebrow. What’s wrong? My answer was always the same. “I don’t want to.” He would be sweating, completely wired, but if I said stop, he stopped. He’d get up, take an ice-cold shower, and come back to bed to just hold me. After I’d done this a dozen times, I think he figured it out. He’d feel the mood shift, and before I even had to say anything, he’d get up and head for the shower himself. There was one exception. He saw a text on my phone from a friend back home. “Who’s this?” he asked. “Just a friend from Charlotte,” I told him. He didn’t say anything else about it. But that night, he was rough. He wouldn’t stop. I pushed against him. He grabbed my wrists, pinned them. I turned my head away. “Julian, I said no!” “Why?” he demanded, his voice low. “Because of that ‘friend’ from Charlotte?” He was such a proud guy, but when he got jealous, he was impossible. I never said it out loud, but he knew. The reason I wouldn’t go all the way was because I knew he wasn’t the man I’d end up with. I didn’t want the bond to be any deeper than it already was. Julian was a gentleman. He understood, and he backed off. But after that night, every time we got close, it felt like he was fighting a war with himself. 2 Junior year. We were getting close to the deadline. The thought of it ending started to sting. To protect myself, I started to emotionally check out. That year, he planned a trip to the UK. The second day we were in Kent, I was dead asleep, still jet-lagged, when a group of people burst into the hotel room. I was forcibly put into a wedding dress, my makeup was done, and I was hurried into a horse-drawn carriage. I have no idea when Julian planned it. He’d arranged a wedding. At Canterbury Cathedral. With a real priest. There were no guests. Just us. A wedding that meant nothing. It wasn’t until we exchanged rings that I understood. Months ago, he’d asked for a ring for his birthday—a simple gold band. It was so he’d have one to give me when I gave him his. It was an invalid ceremony. We both knew it. But that night, when Julian got up, breathing hard, heading for his usual cold shower, I grabbed his hand. I pulled him back onto the bed and kissed him. He shuddered, his voice cracking. “Summer.” “It’s our wedding night, Julian,” I whispered. “Don’t be a buzzkill.” Who cares. That’s what I thought. Whatever happens, happens. Today, right now, I was his bride. I let myself go. Just this once. …What I thought was “just once” turned into… many times. Once a boundary is broken, it’s gone. We were both out of control. The brakes were gone. I told myself it was just a final countdown. A last, wild indulgence. I didn’t know when he would bring up the breakup. The contract just said “graduation.” I waited. He never said a word. My flight back to Charlotte was booked. I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed a clean break. I asked him to dinner. A quiet restaurant near campus. I thought I knew how he’d react. He’d be his usual, unflappable self. A sophisticated nod, a “Thanks for the memories,” and a handshake. I didn’t expect him to just stare at me and say, “No.” I blinked. “No, what?” His eyes locked on mine. “Summer. I’m not breaking up with you.” 3 My brain short-circuited. Julian wasn’t the type to go back on his word. He was defined by his integrity. I had always assumed the breakup was set in stone. I never saw this coming. When did he change his mind? I was panicking. I had never, ever, planned on a future with him. This was supposed to be a win-win. His last-minute reversal knocked me off my feet. I couldn’t speak. I just stared. My reaction must not have been what he was hoping for. His voice suddenly sounded urgent. “I know what you’re worried about. Summer, give me five years.” “Five years. I promise you, after five years, no one in my family will be able to interfere with my marriage.” “We’ll have another wedding. A real one. With our families, a license, telling the whole world we’re for each other.” “Summer,” he asked, “what do you say?” I just looked at him, my heart hammering, and I finally forced the words out, my voice sounding weak. “But… we had a deal. Graduate, then break up.” He flinched, as if I’d slapped him. “What?” This was it. If I didn’t make it clean, it would be a mess. I took a deep breath. “I want to break up, Julian.” His gaze shot toward me, sharp enough to hurt. “Why?” His voice was dead calm. I’d never felt this kind of pressure from him. I just had to rip the Band-Aid off. I let it all spill out. “Because we don’t match.” “Because I have no ambition. I just want a quiet life. I want to eat good food and sleep well.” “I don’t want to be criticized because my ‘bloodline’ isn’t good enough.” “I don’t want to deal with the complicated, toxic world of the rich.” “Marrying you means all of that is unavoidable.” “So,” I finished, my voice getting quiet, “I never, ever planned on this going anywhere.” I suddenly felt… cruel. He was planning a future, and I was calculating my losses. He was ready to fight a war for me, and I was already planning my escape. “I’ve said what I needed to say.” I stood up, desperate to leave. “I’m going. Take care.” I turned. His hand shot out and grabbed my arm. A steel grip. I looked back. He was still sitting, staring up at me. This proud, untouchable man looked like he’d been left in the rain. “If you never wanted a future,” he asked, his voice hollow, “why did you let me touch you?” I flinched. I ripped my arm out of his grasp. I forced a cold laugh. “I didn’t realize you were so old-fashioned. It wasn’t a big deal to me.” He looked like I’d physically struck him. He slowly pushed his chair back and stood up. He was so tall, he cast a shadow over me. “Summer,” he said, his voice terrifyingly low. “You better pray we never see each other again. Because if we do, I don’t know what I’ll do to you.” My palms were sweating, but I kept my face blank. I shouldn’t have done this. I should never have gotten involved with him. I fled the restaurant. I flew back to Charlotte and I didn’t look back. I even avoided New York when I traveled. I thought I would never see him again. I really, really thought that. 4 My cousin Mia was marrying into new money. She invited me to the wedding. In New York City. I immediately declined. But the groom’s family had “vetted” the guest list from Mia’s side. I was the only one they approved. My own aunt wasn’t allowed to see her daughter get married. So, I was “respectfully requested” to be the sole representative of the bride’s family. We were all put up in a luxury hotel. The night before the wedding, Mia gets a text. A dozen photos of her fiancé, Zach, with another woman. And a video. There was a “Single’s Ending” party happening at a mansion 20 miles away. In the video, Zach was making out with some girl. Mia stared at her phone, turned it off, and looked at me and her six bridesmaids. “Alright, girls,” she said. “We’re going to a party.” I never thought I’d see Julian Astor. Not in a city this big. The odds… But God has a twisted sense of humor. Mia was there to make a point. She found the girl from the video and slapped her. The girl looked to Zach, who just grinned, not offering to help. Turns out, Mia and Zach had a “contract” of their own. He could do whatever he wanted, as long as the other women didn’t bother her. If they did, Mia had a green light, and Zach wouldn’t interfere. Mia dragged the girl out by her hair. Zach just shut the door behind her, put his arm around Mia’s waist, and said, “Babe, don’t be rude. You’re here, you have to go say hi to Julian.” Mia, her hair a mess, just smoothed her dress. “Right. Let me fix my face.” Zach left her and went over to a quieter, more intimidating table. Mia looked at the table. “Okay, bridesmaids,” she whispered. “See that table? Everyone is fair game… except the one in the middle.” I looked. My blood turned to ice. I saw him. He hadn’t seen me. It was Julian. Four years older, the last traces of college gone. He was sharper, heavier… just… more. One of the bridesmaids, Isabelle, the most beautiful one, immediately asked, “Why not him?” Mia’s voice was serious. “He’s out of our league. Don’t even think about it. It’s not worth the trouble.”

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1 My father planned to ally with two top generals by marrying my sister and me to their sons. The moment General Thorne’s only son Adrian entered our home, his eyes fixed on my sister Rosalind. My match was Ken Vance—paralyzed for years and disowned by his family. In my past life, seeing Ken’s shrapnel scars and war-traumatized eyes, I felt for him. I devoted myself entirely, traveling far to find him the best doctors and using my full dowry to help him rebuild his empire from scratch. He rarely showed affection, but I believed patience would melt his cold heart. Yet at my birthday party, insurgents raided to take hostages. The “paralyzed” man sprang from his wheelchair and shoved me into their hands. Knocked unconscious and abducted, I endured three days of unspeakable torture, praying for his rescue. Instead, I learned he was using all his connections to find doctors for Rosalind’s minor injuries. I finally realized: he’d never been crippled or disowned. He’d only married me because Rosalind chose someone else—our marriage let him stay close as family to protect her. Before I died, he called, his voice icy: “I’m sorry, Clara. I lied. But I couldn’t let Rosalind die. What I owe you… I’ll repay in the next life.” When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day father told us to choose our husbands. … “Clara should choose first. She’s younger and needs a more distinguished partner,” my sister, Rosalind, said, her voice a careful performance of magnanimity, just like the last time. But the way her eyes clung to Adrian Thorne told the real story. Their gazes were so intense they were practically a physical connection. Everyone knew they’d been secretly seeing each other for ages. And today, I knew my father intended to betroth Adrian to her. In my past life, I was completely oblivious. All I could think about was the bond my sister and I had shared since we were children. So, I willingly chose Ken. I thought I was doing a noble thing, stepping aside for their love. I had no idea I was choosing an eternity in hell. Before I died, I was tortured for three days, my body broken, every bone shattered. Ken never once thought of saving me. The world-class medical team he assembled was busy hovering over Rosalind, who had nothing more than a few light scratches on her hand. She’d curled into his arms, her voice a delicate whimper. “Ken! It hurts so much! You have to save Clara! It’s all my fault, I never should have competed with her for you…” People around them sighed, whispering about how kind the Sterling family’s eldest daughter was, still thinking of her sister at a time like this. It wasn’t until my body was dumped in a landfill that she finally broke down, wailing for the news cameras. “I don’t believe she’s dead! Save my sister! Please, I’m begging you, save her!” Watching that tear-streaked, angelic face, I wanted to laugh. She was always like this—using that mask of innocence to steal our father’s love, to trick me into a disastrous marriage, and finally, to send me to my death at the hands of monsters. A cold smirk touched my lips. “Since you’re being so generous, sister, I won’t be polite.” I looked past Ken, directly at the other man. “I choose Adrian Thorne.” Rosalind stared at me, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Clara, you know that Adrian and I…” Ken’s gaze snapped to me, a flicker of surprise in his cold eyes. My father’s reaction was more direct. He slapped me across the face, the crack echoing through the silent room. “Don’t you know your place?” he roared. “Adrian Thorne is the pride of the military command. Do you really think a star like him would ever look at an illegitimate child like you?” His voice dripped with contempt. “You know he loves your sister. What kind of venomous game are you playing?” I tasted blood, but I smiled through the stinging pain. “If it was all decided, why not just marry me off to the cripple directly? Afraid of what people would say? Afraid they’d call you biased?” A shadow crossed Rosalind’s eyes before they filled with tears once more. “Clara, how could you say that? Father has always adored you.” As we argued, Ken Vance, the man who was supposed to be paralyzed, suddenly rose from his wheelchair. “General Sterling,” he said, his voice steady and strong. “Perhaps we can make a deal.” “I’m aware the command is facing an equipment shortage. I can provide your forces with the latest generation of military hardware. My only price is Rosalind’s hand in marriage.” I never imagined he would stand up, not now, not after faking his injury for so long. I stared at him, my eyes burning with hatred. His own cold gaze met mine, and for a fleeting moment, it became a storm of conflicting emotions, laced with a flicker of guilt. And then I laughed. So, he was reborn, too. Even after watching me die a horrific death, he still couldn’t bear the thought of Rosalind marrying another man. To stop it, he was willing to expose his greatest secret—that he wasn’t injured, that he’d never been cast out by his family. Yet, in our last life, he had watched me sell off my entire dowry to pay for his “treatments.” He’d watched me mortgage my properties and take out crippling bank loans. He’d even watched me beg on my knees for money to fund the surgery for his legs. And through it all, he never said a single word. At the mention of new military hardware, a greedy light flashed in my father’s eyes. He was desperate to marry us off to solidify his position anyway. Besides, the Vance family’s influence in the military far outstripped the Thornes’. He grunted. “Since Mr. Vance is so devoted to Rosalind, then Clara, you will marry Adrian.” Adrian’s face was a mask of fury, clearly enraged by this sudden turn. His eyes, usually so charming, were now poisonous darts aimed at me. “Clara Sterling, have you looked in a mirror? You’re not worth a single strand of Rosalind’s hair! You want me to marry you? In your dreams!” My father’s expression soured. “Adrian, what is the meaning of this? The Thorne and Sterling families have been allies for generations. Are you saying my daughter isn’t good enough for you? Are you trying to break the betrothal?” Adrian’s handsome face twisted into a sneer. “With all due respect, General, I will marry Rosalind or no one. I would rather die than marry Clara.” Rosalind bit her lip, tapping his chest with a delicate fist. “Adrian, darling! Don’t say that. Clara developed a chronic illness trying to save you. Even if you don’t like her, you should at least pity her.” I’d almost forgotten. When we were ten, Adrian and I were the ones who were inseparable. We were kidnapped while traveling abroad. He broke his leg trying to escape and cried for me to save him. Without a second thought, I carried him on my back, running until my lungs burned, using every last ounce of strength to get him to safety. The ordeal shattered my own health, leaving me frail and plagued by chronic illness ever since. Adrian gazed at Rosalind, his voice thick with adoration. “Rosalind, my love, you’re always so selfless. If you hadn’t called for help, I never would have been rescued. You’re the one who saved me.” He shot me a look of pure disgust. “If you hadn’t used that debt to cling to me all these years, I would have married Rosalind long ago.” Rosalind couldn’t hide the triumphant smirk on her face, burying her head in his chest to conceal it. I had to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes. “Well,” I said, my voice cutting through their little drama. “Since my sister has such deep feelings for both of them, why not just marry them both at the same time?” Rosalind’s face flushed. “Clara, what are you saying? If they’re both with me, who would possibly want you?” I slowly stood up. “And what if I said… I don’t want either of them?” Two sets of eyes locked onto me. Adrian’s were full of scorn, as if to say, As if you have a choice. Ken’s, however, were dark and unnerving. He watched me intently, trying to peel back the layers and see into my soul. I refused to meet his gaze. “Nonsense!” my father roared, smashing a glass on the floor. “You’re a woman! What could you possibly do if you don’t get married?” I looked him straight in the eye, my voice ringing with newfound resolve. “I know our border defenses are compromised. I will volunteer for a frontier deployment. I will go there, prove my worth, and help the Sterling family through this crisis.” In my past life, the defenses under my family’s command had failed catastrophically. Father had taken most of my dowry to bribe his way out of trouble, but it was no use. Before the Sterling family fell from grace, he transferred all remaining assets to Rosalind, enough for her to live in luxury for a hundred lifetimes. Meanwhile, I was living in a drafty, dilapidated workshop, working day and night to scrape together money for Ken’s treatment. At my lowest point, I knelt before Rosalind and begged her for a loan. She had her guards drag me out and lock me in solitary confinement. The military doctor had told me Ken’s surgery only lacked a few crucial medicines. Any further delay would leave him permanently disabled. Desperate, I swallowed my pride. I betrayed my own principles to get him what he needed. And it was all for nothing. A fool’s errand. I pushed the memory away. With a bitter laugh, I deleted Ken’s contact information and boarded the military transport heading for the frontier. No one in the frontier forces thought much of me, seeing me as nothing more than Rosalind’s pale shadow. I didn’t care. I was determined to prove myself with action. In my previous life, my world had revolved around Ken. Now, throwing myself into training, I discovered a talent for strategy and tactics that I never knew I had. Even my commanding officers were impressed. After successfully completing a critical border mission that had been stalled for three years, I was summoned to meet with the High Command. My reputation skyrocketed. I became known as a tactical prodigy, a hero of the armed forces. My fame even began to eclipse Rosalind’s, the so-called “jewel of the military.” My father, who seemed to have forgotten I existed, finally called. The moment I answered, he started screaming. “Clara, has success gone to your head? It’s almost the anniversary of your mother’s death, and you won’t even come home?” My mother was the one soft spot left in my heart. I arranged for my duties to be covered and went home. After visiting her grave, I was stopped on my way out. Rosalind stood there, wearing her usual fake smile, but her eyes burned with an envy she couldn’t conceal. “Sister, you must have been working so hard.” Her voice dripped with false concern. “You spend all your time at the base now. I’m not trying to stop you, but you’re a woman, surrounded by men day in and day out. You’re disgracing Father’s name!” She leaned in closer. “Do you know what people are saying? That you slept your way to the top. That you sold intelligence for commendations.” Her eyes flickered to Ken, who was standing beside me, and she smirked. “I know you’re only doing all this to get a man’s attention.” “So, Father asked me to tell you. He’s already found you a fiancé. It’s the eldest son of the Zhao family—the one in a coma.” “Starting tomorrow, you won’t be returning to the base. I’ll be taking over your position. It’s for the best. We can’t have you parading around, shaming us all.” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “What’s the matter? Is it so unbearable that the little sister you’ve always pushed down is finally better than you?” She flinched, her eyes wide with shock. But I was done holding back. The words poured out of me, a torrent of long-suppressed rage. “On what grounds do you think you can take over the defenses I bled to secure? On the grounds that your mother was a mistress? Or on the grounds that Father had to pull strings just to get your mediocre ass into the military academy?” I stepped closer. “An illegitimate child, lecturing me? Telling me to step aside? Who gave you that confidence?” Rosalind’s face crumbled, and she burst into tears. “Sister, I’m only trying to help you. How can you misunderstand me like this?” “Help me?” I scoffed. “I’m sure. You know, for the ‘jewel of the military,’ you should learn to be content. Father has given you more than enough. Stop coveting what my mother left behind for me.” Rosalind looked at me with wounded eyes, her voice choked with sobs. “I know you’ve never liked me, but I just don’t want to see you work yourself to death…” I had no patience for her act. I turned to leave, but Ken’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist and slamming me against the wall. His eyes were dark pools, his voice a low rasp. “You’ve gone too far.” Seeing him leap to her defense was so utterly predictable it was almost funny. Ken’s gaze hardened. “Apologize to Rosalind.” I slapped him. The sharp crack echoed in the silence. “Are you done, my dear sister’s devoted fiancé?” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “If you want to have a scene, take it outside. Don’t disgust me in here.” His head was turned from the force of the blow, a few strands of hair falling across his forehead, giving him a strangely broken look. “You…” His voice was hoarse, as if he couldn’t comprehend that I had actually struck him. I shoved him away and went to pack my things, intending to leave that very night. But as I was about to board my flight, I was ambushed. Adrian Thorne grabbed me by the throat, his face contorted with rage. “This is all your fault! Rosalind ran out last night after you upset her, she ran into a mugger, and she was shot! She’s in surgery, bleeding out. You’re coming with me to save her!” Thankfully, the guards assigned to my protection detail quickly tackled him and pinned him to the ground. I stared at him like he was insane. “She was shot? Then take her to a hospital. What good am I? Did I force her to run into a bullet?” Adrian glared at me, his eyes promising murder. “If you hadn’t insulted her, called her mother a mistress, she wouldn’t have been so devastated! She wouldn’t have run out! This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? For her to die!” “I’m telling you, if anything happens to Rosalind, I’ll make you pay with your life!” A mocking smile played on my lips. “You and what army?” “And me,” a cold voice said from the doorway. Ken stepped inside, flanked by a squad of heavily armed mercenaries. Adrian snarled, “Stop wasting time with her. Rosalind is losing too much blood. Tie her up and drag her to the hospital for a transfusion!” To me, he spat, “You destroyed Rosalind’s peace of mind. Now you can atone for it.” My guards were quickly overpowered. Adrian yanked me up by my collar and slammed me to the ground. The side of my face scraped against the rough floor, the pain bringing tears to my eyes. But I only looked at Ken. “Ken, I’ll only ask you this one last time.” My voice was quiet but steady. “Can’t you see she’s faking? That this is all just another one of her self-pitying, manipulative games?” Ken closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, the last trace of hesitation was gone. “I know.” It was so absurd I almost laughed. They both knew her tricks, and yet they were still willing, once again, to throw me into the abyss for her. On the way to the hospital, Ken let out a soft sigh. “You were reborn, too.” I just laughed. “Reborn or not, what’s the difference? You would never choose me.” “I’m sorry.” I turned to look at him, the absurdity of it all washing over me. “Ken, two lifetimes, and is that still the only thing you know how to say?” He leaned in suddenly, his lips crashing against mine in a rough, desperate kiss. He murmured against my mouth, “Clara, just endure this one last time.” “It’s just a little blood. You’ll be fine.” “After this is over, I’ll marry you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” I just smiled, a dead, empty thing, and said nothing. At the hospital, I was dragged straight into a transfusion room. As the crimson liquid flowed from my arm into the blood bag, I felt my strength seeping away. Ken and Adrian were already gone, pacing anxiously outside the operating room. “How is Rosalind?” No one asked if I was dizzy. No one noticed how ghostly pale my face had become. When they switched to the second bag, my vision started to go black. A nurse looked worried. “This young woman is severely anemic. If we take any more, her life could be in danger.” Ken heard her and frowned, his hand instinctively closing over mine in a hollow gesture of comfort. “Rosalind’s not out of surgery yet. Just hold on a little longer.” I stared at the light fixture on the ceiling, a profound weariness settling deep in my bones. “Ken,” I said softly. “Let’s just let each other go.” His eyes flickered, and he opened his mouth to say something. But just then, a cry of alarm came from the operating room. He shot up, rushing toward the door. “What happened to Rosalind?” A surgeon emerged, his brow furrowed. “A bullet fragment is lodged in her heart. We can’t remove it. She needs an immediate heart transplant!” “Get her next of kin in here for tissue matching. We can’t afford to wait.” Before the words were even out of his mouth, every eye in the hallway turned to me. Our father had a heart condition. Her only other living relative… was me.

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After marrying my nemesis, I fell ridiculously in love. My days became a blur of sweet nothings and blistering fucking. Six months into this intoxicating routine, I decided to surprise him for a lunch date. Instead, I walked into a brawl between him and my childhood best friend. My friend landed a solid punch. “You son of a bitch. You dared to force her into this marriage? Do you have any idea how much she despises you?” Griffin slowly wiped a smear of blood from his lip. The words hit their mark, and his eyes turned venomous. “Of course I know,” he hissed. “So what? You really think I’d ever let her go?” A wave of sympathetic glances washed over me from the onlookers, as if I were the tragic heroine in a dark romance, stolen and caged. I looked down at myself, dripping in jewels and designer clothes. My world shattered. Weren’t we… weren’t we a love story? The kind where you marry first, and fall in love later? 1 Deep in the night, I was waging war from behind my laptop screen. “Let me spell it out for you,” I typed, my fingers flying across the keyboard. “Your boyfriend is gaslighting you. Grand gestures and sweet talk are cheap. The only real metric is his wallet. Follow the money, honey. That’s where the love is.” A user shot back instantly. “Who is this high-and-mighty bitch telling people how to live? They’re a happy couple, leave them alone.” The replies piled on. “Seriously. How much did your husband spend on you? Bet he bought you a tacky gold bracelet and now you think you’re a relationship guru.” A few seconds later, I uploaded a photo of the diamond on my finger. A rock the size of a quail’s egg. “Auction price was five million. A little gift from my husband.” The replies trickled to a halt, then started again. User 1: “…Why do you guys always have to poke the bear?” User 2: “Ugh, rich people. Get out of our comment section.” I rolled my eyes, tapping out one last defiant message. “I told you my husband genuinely loves me… you just didn’t want to believe it.” I snapped the laptop shut. Griffin was still in the shower. I kissed the massive diamond, then slipped into a red lace nightgown, all strategic cutouts and delicate straps, and draped myself across the bed to wait for him. Six months into my marriage with Griffin, and our relationship was blossoming. The evidence was clear: One, my family may have gone bankrupt, but Griffin’s vast fortune was more than enough to sustain my lavish lifestyle. Two, Griffin may have been a scholarship kid I used to torment for years, but he held no grudges. After the wedding, he became my loyal servant. Whatever I wanted, he provided. Click. The bathroom door opened. The man I’d been waiting for emerged, a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water clung to the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, catching the lamplight like tiny pearls. I drew out his name, my voice thick and syrupy. “Griffin. Come serve your queen.” His dark gaze raked over my body as he silently crossed the room. I decided to praise him generously. “I’m very satisfied with this gift. Next time, I want something bigger. An emerald, I think—” He silenced me, his mouth crashing down on mine. The sound of tearing silk filled the air, and my expensive nightgown was reduced to ribbons. Outside, a gentle rain began to fall. Inside, my muffled protests turned into whimpers. “Griffin, you dog, I didn’t say you could start—” “Hush, Sloane. If you want the emerald, you’ll be quiet.” 2 A few days later, I was adorned with a new set of priceless emeralds. Strolling through the city, I felt like a pedigreed Persian cat, sleek and untouchable. It was a weekday, so the high-end department store was quiet. That’s why I easily heard someone call my name. “Ms. Hayes?” A young woman in a sensible pantsuit stood among a small group of people. She was plain, the kind of forgettable face you see once and never again. I’d known a face like that years ago. A classmate of Griffin’s. Audrey. Back in prep school, our year had two charity cases. Griffin, the major one, and Audrey, the minor one. The two of them were always eating lunch together, a little island of have-nots. Inseparable. I studied her for a moment before her name surfaced. “Audrey.” “I’m surprised you remember me.” She extended a hand. “I work for Mr. Vance now. I’m his assistant.” I offered a tight, polite smile, making no move to take her hand. “Is there something I can help you with, Audrey?” She slowly retracted her hand. “Oh, no, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just here to do a site inspection for Mr. Vance. I didn’t expect to run into you.” Her gaze lingered on my emeralds, a flicker of something in her eyes before she smiled. “It must be nice being a housewife. Not a care in the world, just shopping and spending. After all the hell you put Griffin through back then, it’s amazing he can be so forgiving. You’re a lucky woman.” I watched her, letting the silence hang in the air before I laughed. “You’re lucky too, you know. You just happened to get that scholarship my father donated to the school. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, working for my husband.” The corner of Audrey’s mouth twitched, her practiced smile flattening into a thin line. I beamed at her. “What’s wrong? You look upset. I’m sorry, I thought you enjoyed these little trips down memory lane.” She had no idea what I’d put Griffin through. She wasn’t even there for most of it. Did he not warn her to stay away from me? She was playing with fire. “I have to get back to work,” she said, her voice clipped. “Enjoy your day, Ms. Hayes.” That evening, when Griffin came home, he found me slumped on the sofa. An empty bottle of red wine lay on its side at my feet, a dark stain bleeding into the cream-colored rug. He set down his briefcase and silently took out his phone, texting the cleaner. Then he came over and bent to lift me into his arms. I gave him a weak shove. “Kneel.” Griffin paused, then carefully knelt before me, the fabric of his suit trousers creasing. I prodded his shoulder with the toe of my shoe. “You hired a female assistant?” He caught my ankle, his thumb stroking the delicate skin. “It’s a corporate policy. Gender diversity.” He lowered his head, his lips tracing a path up my calf. “But my executive assistant, the one who deals with me directly, is a man. Does that ease my queen’s mind?” The bad mood that had been poisoning my day began to evaporate. In less than a minute, I was his again, completely. I draped myself over his shoulders, scrolling through my phone. “I don’t get it,” I mumbled. “Mom and Dad took your money, so why won’t they answer my calls?” “They’re busy with their new venture. You can’t answer the phone when you’re building an empire.” “Oh.” The wine was making my head swim. Griffin carried me to the bed and gently stroked my hair. “Sloane,” he said softly, “if they were broke, completely penniless, would you still want to talk to them?” I burst out laughing. “I don’t talk to paupers. You know that.” His dark eyes were unreadable, like pools of ink. “What if I went bankrupt?” A truly terrifying thought. I pressed my fingers to his lips. “Shh, don’t even joke about that. It’s horrifying.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, smiling. “If you ever lose your money, I’ll be the first one out the door.” Griffin’s expression remained placid as he looked at my smiling face. Then, he suddenly flipped me over. “I’ve just realized something,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my back. “I think I prefer the sound of your crying.” His hot, hard body pressed against me from behind. “And if my queen ever tries to run… I’ll just have to break her legs.” 3 The alcohol sent me into a deep, dream-filled sleep. Seeing Audrey had dredged up memories I hadn’t revisited in years. It had been so long since I’d dreamt of the young Griffin. The year he transferred to our school was one of the driest summers on record in New York. For months, not a single drop of rain fell. The drone of the cicadas was a constant, piercing scream that seemed to tear at the sky. During homeroom, our teacher walked in with a new student. He wore a faded, washed-out school uniform, his dark eyes downcast, radiating a cold indifference. I’d never seen anyone so obviously poor. His backpack was literally held together with patches. But he was also devastatingly beautiful, and the girls in our class stared at him, their eyes practically boring holes through his cheap clothes. Scholarship kids weren’t a novelty. The school had a quota to fill every year. Usually, a handsome one like him would be claimed by some rich girl within a year, turned into a pretty accessory. So I admired his proud, isolated posture. I was curious to see how long it would last. A year passed. Griffin hadn’t become anyone’s plaything. Instead, he’d become class president. Our class was full of lawless trust-fund babies. The teachers, not wanting to antagonize our powerful parents, had chosen the boy with no connections to be their enforcer. One day, Griffin announced it was time to collect class dues. He then read out a list of students who were delinquent. The first boy whose name was called swaggered to the front, pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, and threw it in Griffin’s face. “You think everyone’s a broke piece of trash like you? Can’t even afford the dues?” “So I forgot. You had to call me out in front of everyone?” “Who are you trying to humiliate, huh? You charity case.” A ripple of laughter went through the classroom. The next few students did the same, showering Griffin with bills that fluttered to the floor. Griffin bent down and began to silently pick them up. Snickers followed him. “Hey, mutt, you can keep the change. A little tip for you.” I was about to pull out my phone to text the principal when my best friend, Ford, grabbed my arm. “Don’t get involved, Sloane. If these people want to slum it with us, they should expect this.” I hesitated, then pulled out my own thick roll of cash and walked over. “Here’s mine.” Griffin glanced at the money, his voice flat. “It’s too much.” “The rest… do whatever you want with it.” I’d heard he was from an orphanage, that he had to scrimp and save just for tuition. The poor thing. Suddenly, Audrey appeared from nowhere and shoved me. “Get lost! Can’t you people just leave him alone?” I stumbled, my hipbone cracking against the corner of a desk. A sharp pain shot through me. Griffin finished collecting the money and stood up, his face an emotionless mask, his eyes deep and dark. “You want to be like them, Queenie? Go on. Throw it in my face.” I had a temper, too. The next second, a storm of bills engulfed his face, harder and more furious than anyone else’s. His beautiful features flickered in and out of view through the fluttering cash. I had to admit, the sight of Griffin’s face surrounded by money was a perfect match. Of course, from that day forward, Griffin and I were at war. If he wouldn’t accept my charity, then he could expect my wrath. We spent the next few years locked in a bitter rivalry. I usually had the upper hand. It wasn’t uncommon to see Griffin standing in the sweltering heat, waiting in line at an ice cream truck for me. Or on cleaning day, mopping up the ink I’d “accidentally” spilled on the floor. Did he not fight back? He couldn’t. A poor student who’d pissed off the richest, most powerful girl in school had nowhere to run. Of course, when he got really pushed, he’d grab my wrist and pin me against the wall of the empty basketball court. A warning. But that only ever resulted in more creative and vicious retaliation from me. I thought he would spend his entire life under my thumb. But the old saying, “never underestimate a poor boy with ambition,” proved to be true. Years later, my family’s empire crumbled. Griffin, on the other hand, had risen like a phoenix, becoming a titan of industry, a man everyone wanted to please. The day he proposed our marriage alliance, I nearly destroyed his office. “You want revenge? Dream on!” I swung a golf club, smashing the last of his computer monitors. “You want to marry me? Fine. Give my family a hundred million dollars, and promise that everything you earn after we’re married is mine to spend. Otherwise, I’ll shatter that window and take you down with me!” I expected him to back down. Instead, his face darkened, and he bit out one word: “Done.” That night, a hundred million dollars was transferred to my parents’ account. The prenuptial agreement was signed. All of Griffin’s income was legally mine. To spend as I pleased. And that’s when things got awkward for me. Because it turned out… he really, really wanted me. Our wedding night lasted for three days. I was practically broken. I made a burner account and anonymously posted on a forum: “My husband wants to have sex seven times a night. Does this mean he hates me?” The internet exploded. “Shut up. Your happiness is deafening.” “Yes, he despises you. He loathes you. You should divorce him immediately and send me his contact info.” “The rich get richer, and the thirsty stay thirsty…” “Okay, serious answer: A man who can still go seven times a night after 25? Cherish him. He is biologically, fundamentally attracted to you. You can’t hate someone into your bed like that.” Even though I’d suspected Griffin had a secret crush on me, seeing it confirmed was deeply satisfying. All those other rich girls couldn’t tame him. But in the end, he was mine. I really was a master of my craft. 4 When I woke up, Griffin was already at the office. I glanced at my phone and saw that our old high school group chat, usually dormant for years, was buzzing with activity. My childhood best friend, Ford, was back in town. He messaged me right away: “Sloane, dinner tonight?” “Just us?” “And a few others from the old crew.” I knew exactly who “the old crew” was. “No thanks. Griffin doesn’t get along with them, so I’ll pass.” Ford: “??? What does Griffin have to do with anything???” Oh, right. He’d been in Antarctica for the last few years photographing penguins, practically disconnected from civilization. “Griffin and I are married.” “Was it your choice?” “Not entirely, but now I think—” “Okay, got it.” Ford hung up before I could finish. My thoughts drifted back to Griffin. It occurred to me that since we got married, we’d never actually been on a proper date. I put on a full face of makeup, feeling giddy, and headed to Griffin’s company. His assistant told me Griffin had also gone to the class reunion. He was kind enough to call a driver to take me there. The whole way, my anger simmered. What was Griffin thinking? Going to a class reunion without even telling me. He didn’t bring Audrey, did he? The car pulled up, and I stormed inside. As I rounded the corner of a staircase, I could hear a commotion from a private room down the hall. Then, a sickening thud. “You son of a bitch. You dared to force her into this marriage? Do you have any idea how much she despises you?” I came around the bend just in time to see Ford’s fist connect squarely with Griffin’s jaw. Griffin staggered back against the wall, spitting out a mouthful of blood. The words hit their mark, and his eyes turned venomous. “Of course I know,” he hissed. “So what? You really think I’d ever let her go?” “Fuck you! Why don’t you get Sloane over here and see who she chooses.” Griffin grabbed Ford’s wrist, his voice a low, cold sneer. “No need. I’ll never give her that choice. She is—and always will be—my wife.” “You’re… a monster,” Ford seethed. “This is imprisonment! It’s abuse!” “Call it what you want. I don’t care.” Suddenly, someone spotted me. “Sloane! What are you doing here?” Every head in the room swiveled in my direction. Their faces were filled with pity. “Poor thing. No wonder we haven’t seen her in so long.” “Locked away and tortured all this time. She must have come here to run away with Ford.” My head was spinning. I caught my reflection in a nearby window—a woman dripping in jewels and designer clothes. My world shattered. Weren’t we… weren’t we a love story?

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1 A freak thunderstorm hit the city. I raced to the office, but I was still one minute late. The CEO’s Executive Assistant, Marcus, stopped me at the door. He didn’t smile. “One minute late. As per policy, you can make a ‘voluntary contribution’ of one condo.” It was so absurd I almost laughed. I’d heard of “voluntarily contributing” for a coffee run, or for office supplies. Never a condo. “Because I was one minute late… you want me to donate a condo to the company?” I asked, just to be sure I’d heard him right. He gave me an annoyed, dismissive look. “Do you have any idea what can be accomplished in one minute? Twelve missile defense protocols can be launched. Understand?” I decided he was insane and ignored him. What could he do? I wasn’t going to just hand over my deed. Then I got my pay stub. Salary & Commission: +$100,000 Voluntary Contribution (Condo, Appraised): -$1,000,000 Total Pay: -$900,000 My vision went red. I grabbed my phone and called the CEO. “Honey, is your new assistant having a psychotic break?” … An angry, cold voice snapped back from the other end. “What right do you have to question my assistant?” “Don’t bother me with this. It’s a small thing.” She hung up before I could speak. A million-dollar fine… she called it a “small thing”? I stormed over to Marcus’s desk. “What the hell is this? You can’t just fine me a million dollars!” He looked up, a smug, arrogant smirk on his face. “Late employees make a voluntary contribution. It’s the rule.” He then shouted to the entire open-plan office: “Hey! Have you all made your voluntary contributions?” A few people immediately piped up: “I have! I donated a pen!” “I donated a stapler!” “I donated a whole ream of paper!” Marcus turned back to me, raising an eyebrow. “See? Everyone contributes. Why are you trying to be special? It’s company policy. You’re not trying to welsh, are you?” I didn’t fall for it. “I can accept a reasonable penalty for being late. But why do they donate office supplies while I’m donating a condo?” Marcus actually laughed, pointing at me. “Ryan, you’re not stupid. Use your head. The contribution is tied to your personal economic situation.” “You’re rich. So you contribute more. What’s the problem? Ask Leo over there. If he were rich, he’d donate more, wouldn’t you, Leo?” Leo, his number one sycophant, practically jumped out of his chair. “Of course! If I had $20 million, I’d gladly donate $10 million to the company!” Marcus clapped Leo on the shoulder, looking impressed. “That’s the spirit, Leo! The company won’t forget this. Here, a reward for you. A coupon for the coffee shop downstairs. Two dollars off any purchase over eighty.” Leo was so grateful he was almost crying. Marcus spread his arms wide, projecting power. “As long as you follow the rules and understand the spirit of ‘voluntary contribution,’ this company will take care of you.” I was done with this circus. “Show me the company handbook. Show me the rule.” He tossed a supplemental contract addendum onto my desk. I scanned it, even using my phone’s magnifier. Nothing. He impatiently jabbed a finger at the last page. “Ryan, if you’re blind, get glasses. If you can’t read, go back to elementary school.” Finally, under his finger, I saw the microscopic print: “All policies herein are subject to interpretation by executive management.” I looked at him, confused. He cut me off. “I represent executive management. My interpretation is the rule. Got it?” “Your seniority doesn’t mean you’re above the rules. And my rules are the rules.” He looked around the office, smug. Everyone knew he was the CEO’s new favorite. No one dared challenge him. But he was messing with my money. I wasn’t going to be “everyone.” “Marcus, you’re an assistant. Stop acting like you own the place.” “I’m going to the CEO. We’ll see who she sides with.” 2 I slammed open the CEO’s office door. Before I could speak, Serena’s icy gaze hit me. “Get out. Who said you could come in without knocking?” I did as she said. The moment the door clicked shut, I raised my hand to knock. But before I could, Marcus burst right in. This idiot, I thought. He’s about to get his head bitten off. But the screaming I expected never came. When Serena saw who it was, her pinched, angry expression melted. “Oh, Marcus, you’re here!” Her voice was warm, gentle. The exact opposite of how she’d spoken to me. I coughed, then knocked. After she called “come in,” I re-entered. I explained the situation. Serena’s expression was calm, as if this was all perfectly normal. “So? You feel Marcus did something wrong?” I was stunned. “You don’t think this is… excessive? He’s using his position to extort employees. The entire office is toxic!” Serena’s face darkened. “Ryan, I will not have you speak about him that way.” “Everything he has done was with my full authorization.” “The ‘Voluntary Contribution’ policy… was my idea.” I stared, my jaw slack. I couldn’t connect the brilliant, driven woman I’d married to this… this tyrant. “I was one minute late, Serena! He’s taking my condo! You don’t find that a little insane?” She just raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Why? A company needs rules to function.” “He is being 100% dedicated to this company’s success. What’s wrong with that?” I was speechless. “It’s a house, Serena! Not a… a sandwich!” Marcus, seeing the tension, stepped in. “Serena, I did have a strategic reason.” “With great power comes great responsibility. He earns the most, so he should contribute the most. Plus, our intern housing is full. I told Ryan to donate his condo so the interns would have a place to live. It solves an HR problem and saves the company a huge expense.” Serena’s eyes lit up. “That’s brilliant! Two birds with one stone. Marcus, you’re always so thoughtful.” She turned to me. “Ryan, if you were half as dedicated as Marcus, this company would be twice as large.” The anger I’d been suppressing finally boiled over. “If I were as ‘dedicated’ as that brain-damaged moron, my mother would have disowned me!” The room went dead silent. Serena’s face turned black. She stood up, walked over, and slapped me. Hard. I just stared at her. Blank. Married for three years. She had never laid a hand on me. Now, for him, she slapped me. A flicker of regret crossed her eyes, but it vanished instantly. Her voice was ice. “Marcus does have a head injury. He got it in the car crash that he saved my life from.” “For years, he’s had chronic pain, and not even the best specialists in the country can figure out why. “I will not allow anyone to mock his condition. Especially not in front of me.” Marcus immediately looked “nervous.” “Serena, please don’t fight. It’s not good for your relationship to be strained over an outsider like me. I… I should probably just cancel Ryan’s contribution. I just don’t want to undermine your authority…” Serena shook her head, all CEO again. “Don’t be ridiculous. The contribution stands. Ryan’s condo is donated.” 3 My heart ached. Her tone was final. Marcus put on a sympathetic face. “Ryan, I’m already giving you a deal, out of respect for Serena. A small condo in this city is at least $1.5 million. I’m only valuing it at $1 million on the books. I’m saving you $500k.” Serena chimed in. “He’s right. You should be thanking him. He’s being more than fair. Why are you acting like this?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Thank him? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Serena’s hands went to her hips. “You bought that condo with the salary I pay you! I never realized you were so petty! You have no vision!” I just sighed. She was completely under his spell. She couldn’t remember the beginning. In college, she told me she’d rather build an empire than work for one. I told her I’d help. After graduation, I joined her startup for zero pay. Ops, strategy, marketing, sales, client relations… I was the entire executive team. The company nearly went bankrupt three times. Each time, I saved it, pouring in my own money that I’d made from stock trading in college. This “100-person ship” was afloat because I’d plugged the holes with my own cash. Then, two months ago, Marcus, her “one that got away,” showed up. And she forgot everything. He’d been targeting me from day one. I’d put up with it, for her. But this… this was a bridge too far. And all I got was “petty.” The money I’d earned here wasn’t even a third of what I’d invested. But she didn’t remember that. “Fine,” I said, my voice empty. “Whatever you say.” My surrender only made her angrier. She stared at me, her chest heaving. Marcus put a hand on her arm, gently rubbing her back. His eyes met mine over her shoulder, and he smirked. “Look what you did, Ryan. You’ve upset her. For that, you’re cleaning all the company restrooms. You can’t go home until they’re spotless.” I crossed my arms. “Not my job. That’s what the janitorial staff is for. And you’re an assistant. You don’t get to give me orders.” Before Marcus could speak, Serena snapped. “What if the order comes from me?” I looked at her, incredulous. She knew I had a thing about germs, about public restrooms. She used to hire a private cleaning service for our house. She’d always said my hands were “for building, not for scrubbing.” Now, she was telling me to clean a toilet. She meant it. I had to do it. The smell in the men’s room was foul. I grabbed the mop and started on the floor, then began wiping down the stall doors. I heard his expensive Italian shoes click on the tile behind me. “You’re still a long way from beating me, Ryan.” 4 I turned. It was Marcus. “If you’re here to gloat, you’ve done it. Now you can get out.” He stayed put, his voice dropping to a hiss. “Serena is mine. If I hadn’t gone to London for my MBA, you’d never have had a chance. Your little joyride is over. I’ll be taking care of her from now on.” I laughed. “She’s my wife. When does she need an assistant to take care of her? Worry about yourself. Stop sniffing around another man’s wife.” He slammed his fist into a stall door. “You’re so tough, huh? Then why are you on your knees scrubbing a toilet? I thought you were so important to her. Turns out, you’re just… this.” “You still have so much energy. Looks like this isn’t hard enough for you.” He then proceeded to walk, deliberately, all over the wet, clean floor, leaving dirty footprints everywhere. It got worse. He unzipped his pants and urinated all over the floor I had just mopped. “Oops,” he said, zipping up. “You missed a spot, Ryan. You’re not very good at this.” My rage was blinding. I lunged, grabbing his collar. Just as I was about to speak, a wave of dizziness hit me. My skin started to itch, intensely. I collapsed, my limbs weak, gasping. “What… what did you do to me?” Marcus roared with laughter. “I heard you had a severe allergy to industrial-strength bleach. I dumped half a bottle in your mop bucket.” I was wheezing. “Serena… will kill you…” He just smiled. “Wanna bet?” On cue, I heard high heels clicking outside. “Marcus? Are you in there?” Marcus’s face changed instantly. He slapped himself, hard, three or four times. He ripped his tie askew, messed up his hair, and then collapsed on the floor near me. “Ryan, no! Please, stop! I’m sorry! I’ll leave!” The door burst open. Serena ran in. She looked right past me, her eyes only on Marcus. “Marcus! Oh my god, what happened? Are you okay?” He fell into her arms, groaning. “I… I just came in to see if he needed help… I don’t know what happened… he just went crazy. He started punching me… I think… I think he’s mad about me being here…” Serena’s eyes, when she looked up at me, were filled with murder. “Ryan. He came in here to help you. And you assaulted him?” “If anything happens to Marcus, I swear to God, I will destroy you.” She was fussing over him. “Oh god, my head… I’m so dizzy…” Marcus groaned, and I saw him, over her shoulder, give me a tiny, triumphant smirk. Serena was completely fooled. She started to help him up. As they were leaving, Marcus “generously” looked back. “Serena… maybe we should check on Ryan. He… he looks like he’s in pain, too.” Serena didn’t even glance at me. “He’s fine. He’s never sick. He’s obviously faking it.” “Only a pure-hearted person like you would fall for such a cheap trick. I’m not.” They left, supporting each other. I was alone on the wet, filthy floor. I passed out. Ryan, Ryan… you’re a failure. Your own wife can’t see you’re dying. She’s obsessed with another man. It’s all your fault. If there’s a next life… you have to find someone who actually loves you. “Hey! Wake up!”

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My sugar daddy got into a car crash and lost his memory. He forgot I was his girl. I took the opportunity to get pregnant and run. To give my baby the best of everything, I decided to sell off all the gifts he’d ever given me. My online marketplace listings went up one by one: [Christian Louboutins, worn once for an ex. FOR SALE.] [Diamond-encrusted Montblanc pen, favorite of a flashy finance bro. FOR SALE.] [24k gold anklet, used for… roleplay with a first love. FOR SALE.] [Hermès Birkin from my late husband. FOR SALE.] The weird thing was, every single item was snatched up instantly by the same buyer. No matter how much I jacked up the price, they bought it without hesitation. Until one day, after I’d sold everything, a new message from the mystery buyer popped up: [Is your profile picture for sale? Name your price.] I stared at the selfie on my screen and had a long, hard think. 1 When I got to Julian Croft’s hospital room, I could hear his voice, laced with disdain. “Me? Amnesia? Have you guys been watching too many soap operas?” His mother, Mrs. Croft, grabbed his hand. “Do you remember who we are, then?” Silence. “…No.” Mrs. Croft’s eyes welled up. She clutched his hand, her voice thick with emotion. “Your name is Julian Croft. You’re the heir to the Crestlight Corporation, and I’m your mother.” She wiped a tear from her eye, then turned and gestured to the girl standing behind her, nudging her forward. “And this is your fiancée, Amelia.” Through the crack in the door, I saw a bright-eyed, beautiful girl step forward. She was wearing a chic camel-colored trench coat. She gave a playful wink and took Julian’s hand, her smile sickeningly sweet. “Julian, how could you forget me?” she cooed. “It’s okay. I’ll stay with you until you remember everything.” 2 Amelia. I remembered that name. One of Julian’s buddies had brought her up at a party once. “That Amelia Hayes has been obsessed with you since you were kids, man. Following you around, telling everyone she was going to marry you.” “She’s been waiting for you forever. Aren’t you going to give the poor girl an answer?” Julian had just swirled the ice in his glass and chuckled. “Plenty of women chase me. Am I supposed to marry all of them? If you ask me, anyone who gets married is an idiot.” He said all this while casually feeding me a spoonful of gelato. I was perched on his lap, playing the part of the perfect, well-behaved sugar baby, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. I always knew Julian was allergic to commitment. He hated being tied down, hated complications. He was a creature of impulse. He’d wake me up at 2 AM to take his private jet to Aspen, just to ski. He’d complain that he’d never seen me in a bikini while tracing the curve of my waist, and the next thing I knew, we were on a flight to the Maldives. We kissed on snow-covered slopes and held each other in crystal-clear water, acting like a couple deeply in love. But we never once said the words. Now, on the other side of the door, Julian was frowning, studying Amelia with a blank expression. When he didn’t say anything, Mrs. Croft prompted nervously, “You two were so close… but we can’t keep Amelia waiting forever. Julian, what do you think about having the engagement party next month?” Julian closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows. “She doesn’t really seem like my type,” he said lazily. “Are you guys messing with me?” Mrs. Croft and Amelia both stiffened. Then, the handsome man on the bed spoke again. “But if it was already decided, then I guess next month is fine.” Hearing that, I finally let out the breath I was holding. I looked down and placed a hand on my stomach, a smile spreading across my face instead of tears. 3 Julian didn’t know I was pregnant. We were always so careful. I have no idea what went wrong. When I saw the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, my mind went blank. But my very first thought was—I want to keep it. Julian and I had different views on marriage. I didn’t care about getting married, but I’ve always wanted a child of my own. And if I was going to have one, the father should have good genes: handsome, tall, smart… Julian checked all the boxes. At the same time, I knew I could never tell him. He thought marriage was a trap; how would he react to a baby appearing out of nowhere? He’d probably think it was a scheme to lock him down. He would, without a doubt, make me get rid of it. I had been racking my brain for an excuse to end our arrangement. And then, at this perfect moment, Julian got amnesia. He had no idea who I was. Could there be a better time to disappear? My decision was made. I was leaving tonight. 4 While Julian was still in the hospital, I rushed back to his penthouse. I was halfway through packing when the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, walked in, looking concerned. “Miss Winters, are you… running away?” she asked, wringing her hands. “If Mr. Croft comes back and you’re gone, what am I supposed to tell him?” If I just vanished, she’d be a loose end. So, I told her the truth. “Mrs. Croft has arranged his engagement. My contract with Julian is over,” I explained. “He has amnesia now; he doesn’t remember me. If you want to keep your job here, you’ll forget about me too.” Mrs. Gable nodded vigorously, getting the message immediately. Just in case, I took out my phone and sent her a generous “severance package” via Zelle. “Please, keep this a secret, Mrs. Gable.” The second the words were out of my mouth, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I answered. A cool, unfamiliar-yet-familiar voice came through the speaker. “Who is this?” 5 The accident was bad. Julian had smashed his phone along with his head. He never saved contacts with names, just numbers. He was probably going through his new phone, trying to figure out who was who. Crap. I almost forgot about that. Thinking fast, I pitched my voice a little higher, a little rougher. “Mr. Croft, this is Maria. I was your housekeeper. You fired me last week because my cooking was terrible.” It wasn’t a total lie. I had tried to be the domestic type once, pulling up recipes online to cook for him. It was a disaster. The first meal I made gave him food poisoning so bad he spent three days in the hospital on an IV drip. After that, I was banned from the kitchen. There was a pause on the other end. “Was I really that bored?” he mused. “Saving the housekeeper’s number.” He paused again. “Is that you in your profile picture? You look… familiar.” My heart leaped into my throat. I forced myself to sound calm. “No, it’s just a picture I found online.” “Hm,” he said, and hung up. A second later, a notification popped up. Julian Croft is no longer in your contacts. What a jerk, I thought, rolling my eyes. 6 The picture was one Julian had taken. He’d gone through a phase where he bought a fancy new camera, claiming he wanted to get into bird photography. I was his first test subject. In the photo, I had fallen asleep against a trellis in the garden. The backlighting made my face a little blurry, but with the pruning shears and a trowel at my feet, I did kind of look like a gardener. I stared at it for a second, then, without hesitation, I changed it. After triple-checking that I had erased every trace of myself from his life, I walked out of Julian Croft’s penthouse with my suitcase. The city lights blurred past the car window as we drove away. Watching the building shrink in the distance, the weight of the pregnancy I’d been carrying on my shoulders finally lifted. I couldn’t help but grin. “Baby,” I whispered to my stomach, “we finally ditched your deadbeat dad. Let’s go home.”

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