Category: English

The call came from my fund manager in Switzerland. He was informing me that the beneficiary on my trust fund had been changed and that I needed to come in to sign off on the new paperwork. I froze, the phone feeling cold against my ear as my mind struggled to catch up. That trust fund was my inheritance from my father. My name, and my name alone, was on it. How could the beneficiary possibly be changed? I immediately called my husband, Brian. His voice was a warm, reassuring balm over the phone. “It’s probably just a scam, Eleanor. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh,” I said, my tone deceptively light. “They must be pretty committed scammers, then. They even managed to bribe our family’s long-time fund manager.” Brian’s voice hitched for a fraction of a second before he laughed it off. “These new AI voice scams are getting crazy sophisticated, you know? They can mimic anyone. Just ignore it for now. I’ll handle it when I get back to the States.” I smiled and agreed. The moment we hung up, I was already drafting a text to my legal team, telling them to prepare the divorce papers. Brian seemed to have forgotten. My phone is protected by a military-grade firewall. No scam call is getting through. 1 After hanging up, I sent a concise text to my assistant. 【Find Brian’s current location. And find out who he changed my fund’s beneficiary to.】 That series of trust funds was worth billions. It was the bedrock of my family’s legacy, the source of my own power. When my assistant sent back the location, I booked the first flight out. As I approached the hotel, I could hear the staff whispering amongst themselves. “I’m so jealous of Mrs. Croft. It’s only their third anniversary, and Mr. Croft bought out the entire auction for that jewelry set!” “That’s not all! I heard he just added another three hundred million to her fund!” My heart sank. A leaden weight settled in my stomach. Today was indeed my anniversary with Brian. But it wasn’t our third. It was our seventh. He was cheating on me. And he was trying to give my inheritance to his mistress. I took a step toward the grand ballroom, ready to confront him, but a uniformed attendant immediately blocked my path. “Whoa, whoa, who do you think you are? This is a private event, you can’t just walk in here.” His eyes raked over my simple, understated casual wear. “Dressed like you just rolled out of bed… You think this is the place for you? Get lost before you ruin the atmosphere for Mrs. Croft’s anniversary party.” I glanced down at my clothes. It was true, I was dressed for comfort, not for a gala. For years, I had been the woman behind Brian, the invisible force propelling his success. I only ever stepped into the public eye when his company faced a crisis I needed to personally resolve. Normally, I would have calmly explained the misunderstanding. But right now, all I felt was a cold, simmering rage. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I am Mrs. Croft.” The attendants erupted in laughter, one of them doubling over as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “You? Mrs. Croft? If Mr. Croft heard you say that, he’d die laughing!” One of them poked the sleeve of my jacket, his tone dripping with contempt. “Is anything you’re wearing worth more than twenty bucks? And you have the nerve to call yourself Mrs. Croft? You must be desperate for a payday.” In my thirty years of life, no one had ever dared to speak to me this way. I was about to respond when a soft, feminine voice cut through the air. “What’s going on here?” I looked up. A woman in a stunning, champagne-colored mermaid gown was gliding toward us. The portly attendant who had been mocking me instantly transformed, his face crinkling into a fawning smile. “Miss Reed! What are you doing out here? Please, go back inside and rest. Don’t tire yourself out.” He then shot me a venomous glare. “We’re just dealing with some trash who wandered in. Dressed like she buys her clothes at a flea market and claiming to be Mrs. Croft. Shameless, trying to crash the party.” He turned his head and spat on the ground near my feet, the disdain in his eyes palpable. “Open your damn eyes and look! This is the woman Mr. Croft adores. The real Mrs. Croft!” He jabbed a thumb in my direction. “And you… you’re nothing. Why don’t you go find a puddle and take a good long look at your pathetic self before you dare utter her name again?” Mia Reed? Wasn’t she the scholarship student Brian was sponsoring? He’d told me her story years ago—parents passed away, brilliant student but couldn’t afford tuition. He’d convinced me to help fund her entire four-year degree. I even pulled some strings to get her a comfortable administrative job at his company after she graduated. But how could she be Mrs. Croft? Just then, another text from my assistant lit up my screen. 【Ms. Levinson, Brian Croft transferred the beneficiary status of your trust to a woman named Mia Reed.】 The world seemed to tilt on its axis. It all clicked into place. I walked slowly toward Mia Reed, a cold smile playing on my lips. “If you’re Mrs. Croft,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “then I’d like to know… who am I?” 2 The moment Mia saw me, the triumphant smirk on her face froze. She instinctively hid her hands behind her back, but not before I saw it. The exquisite, one-of-a-kind diamond bracelet Brian had just won at that charity auction. “Eleanor? What… what are you doing here?” Her voice trembled. But she recovered in a heartbeat, her expression shifting into one of weary annoyance. “Miss Levinson, I know you’ve had a crush on my husband for a long time, but you can’t just cause a scene like this.” Her voice dripped with false pity. “No matter how hard you throw yourself at him, he’s never going to be with you.” Hearing this, the attendants shot me looks of pure disgust. “So she’s a pathetic homewrecker! And she tried to impersonate the real wife? God, how shameless can you get?” The whispers started, sharp and cruel. “This is hilarious. If you’re going to be a gold digger, at least aim within your league!” “Miss Reed is the one Mr. Croft cherishes. Does this woman really think she can compare?” I said nothing. I simply took out my phone, my movements slow and deliberate, and pulled up the photo on my lock screen: a picture of Brian and me on our wedding day. “A crush on your husband?” I held the phone up to her face, my voice as sharp as broken glass. “Mia, look at this photo and tell me again. Who is your husband?” She glanced at the screen, then looked back at me with an expression of profound disappointment. “I know you’ve resented me ever since I started helping you with your tuition, you were always jealous of how kind Brian was to me. But really, Eleanor… resorting to photoshop? You should have more self-respect.” With a flourish, she pulled a marriage certificate from her clutch. There, in crisp black ink, were their names: Brian Croft and Mia Reed. “This,” she said, tapping the embossed seal, “is the real deal. It can’t be faked.” The attendant who had been harassing me shoved me backward. “You see that? That is the real Mrs. Croft. You’re just some ungrateful charity case who got a little help and now thinks she can seduce a real man. Pathetic!” “Get the hell out of here before you ruin everything! If you delay Mr. Croft and Miss Reed’s anniversary party, not even ten of your miserable lives would be enough to pay for it!” Not enough to pay? I almost laughed. I’d like to see if Brian had the guts to make me pay for anything. When I met him, Brian Croft was just another intern at an investment bank, wearing a threadbare shirt that had been washed one too many times. At my father’s corporate galas, he didn’t even have the standing to hand a business card to a junior executive. It was I who defied my father, who insisted he wasn’t beneath our family. It was I who pulled him into my own project team, who coached him, who handed him the multi-million dollar deals that made him a tech mogul. “Brian Croft wouldn’t dare,” I muttered. The words had barely left my lips when a stinging slap cracked across my face. The attendant glared at me, his face twisted in disgust. “What, you’re still not done with your little act? Mrs. Croft is being nice to you, and you’re still pushing it.” He then turned to Mia, his voice instantly becoming syrupy and obsequious. “Ma’am, a woman like this who doesn’t know her place needs to be taught a lesson! Otherwise, she’ll never stop! I say we should scratch up that pretty face of hers, maybe then she’ll stop trying to seduce Mr. Croft!” “You’re pregnant, you can’t get worked up. I’ll drag her out of here myself and show her what happens when you cross the Crofts in this city!” He lunged for me, his thick fingers reaching for my arm. Suddenly, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the chaos from the entrance. “Stop this at once! What do you think you’re doing?” 3 Brian stood there, radiating an aura of power in his custom-tailored suit. Everyone froze. “Mr. Croft! This woman was impersonating your wife and even tried to attack her! We were just teaching her a lesson for you,” the attendant explained, fawning over him. Mia immediately crumpled into Brian’s arms, bursting into tears. “Brian, it was horrible…” Brian’s gaze swept over the scene, his brow furrowing in anger. He was about to speak when his eyes landed on me. He stiffened. He took a half-step in my direction, but I was faster. I closed the distance between us and slapped him hard across the face. Twice. The sharp, cracking sounds echoed in the stunned silence. Everyone stared, their jaws hanging open. “Is she insane? She just hit Mr. Croft!” “I thought she was just some broke wannabe, but… does she have a death wish?” Brian’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly. I ignored the whispers, a bitter smile on my face as I looked into his eyes. “What’s wrong? Can’t I hit you?” I gestured toward Mia. “Or are you going to defend her now?” His jaw tightened, and he sighed, about to speak. But then Mia clutched his sleeve, her voice a tearful whisper. “Brian, you promised me.” He hesitated. A flicker of something—guilt? fear?—crossed his face before it was replaced by a mask of cold fury. He rounded on me, his voice booming. “Eleanor! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Are you trying to make a scene? Have I spoiled you too much? Is that it?” Make a scene? How dare he accuse me of anything? “Brian, I have one question for you,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Is the child in her belly yours?” At my words, fresh tears streamed down Mia’s face. “Eleanor, I know you’ve been obsessed with my husband since I started sponsoring your education. I know you send him suggestive pictures late at night. I can ignore that, but how could you say something so vile about my unborn child?” Her voice broke. “Are you trying to force him to divorce me just so you can take my place?” Brian’s expression softened as he looked at her. He pulled her closer, stroking her hair. “Shh, it’s okay. I believe you.” Then, he turned back to me, his face hard as stone. “Eleanor, you’ve disappointed me more than I can say. Get your things and move out of the house. Today.” His words struck me like a physical blow. I couldn’t believe it. He was actually brazen enough to flip the entire narrative, to cast me in Mia’s role and present her as his wronged wife. To make her… me. Hearing Brian’s command, the attendant who had slapped me pointed a finger in my face and started shouting. “The real Mrs. Croft was kind enough to sponsor you, and this is how you repay her? By trying to steal her husband? You’re an ungrateful snake!” “Trying to destroy a happy marriage? Look in the mirror! You’re not worthy to even be in the same room as them!” I ignored the insults, my eyes locked on Brian. I spoke each word slowly, deliberately, making sure he felt the weight of them. “I fought with my own family for you, Brian. I built you up from nothing to where you are today. When you couldn’t even afford to eat, I gave you the seed money for your company.” “And now you cheat on me, you have a child with another woman… Brian, how can you live with yourself?” My words only seemed to make his face darken further with rage.

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The police called me to the scene. When I arrived, his secretary was still on her knees beside the body, wailing my husband’s name. She was a wreck. But I wasn’t looking at her. I was looking at the shimmering ghost of Chris, hovering in the air just above them. Perhaps some betrayals are so vile, not even hell will claim the soul. 1 The officer beside me cleared his throat, a touch of awkwardness in his voice as he broke the silence. “Mrs. Quinn.” That single sound was enough to halt the secretary, Molly, in the middle of a desperate sob. Maybe Chris really had loved this woman down to his very bones. He’d lost his life in the crash, yet she had walked away with nothing more than a few minor cuts and bruises. But Chris’s love… I glanced at the translucent figure of the man watching the scene unfold and couldn’t help but let out a soft, contemptuous sound. Chris’s love changed colors more easily than a chameleon. When Molly turned to look at me, her face was a mask of shock, which quickly morphed into rage. She scrambled to her feet, her face flushed a deep crimson, and launched herself at me. The ghostly version of Chris reacted just as the living one would have. He tried to step between us, to shield her, terrified that I might lay a hand on his precious Molly. But he was nothing but air. He could only watch in frustration as she passed right through his incorporeal form and lunged for me. “Molly, be careful,” he muttered, his brow furrowed in concern. Then his gaze snapped to me, a silent, furious warning. “Vivian, I’m warning you. Don’t you dare touch her.” It was a scene that had played out a dozen times before. Except this time, it seemed I was the only one who could hear him. Molly’s hands clawed for my shoulders, her expression twisted with malice. She was clearly not here to offer condolences. I instinctively recoiled, my brows knitting together. An officer caught her just before she could tackle me, preventing her from tumbling to the floor. “Ma’am, you need to calm down,” the officer said firmly, his voice layered with professional patience. “Mr. Quinn’s final arrangements are the responsibility of his wife, Mrs. Quinn.” He emphasized the word “wife,” and it was clear he’d already pieced together the sordid little triangle. Molly froze, her expression turning monstrous, like something out of our son Leo’s nightmares—ugly and repulsive. “Officer, I want to file a report!” she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me. “His crash—it was her! It had to be! It was no accident!” The officer let out a weary sigh. Seeing she was completely unhinged, I took another step back, seeking refuge behind him. The last thing I needed was to get scratched up by a madwoman. Chris had already drifted to Molly’s side, his cold, spectral eyes fixed on me. I couldn’t read his expression, but I didn’t have to. I was certain he suspected me, too. 2 The lead officer looked helpless. Just as he was about to speak, I cut him off, my gaze fixed on Molly. “Without any evidence, that’s slander. I can sue you for it.” Molly ground her teeth, her fury barely contained. Finding the whole display tedious, I offered her a piece of advice. “I suggest you go home and start packing up all the little gifts Chris gave you.” I paused for effect. “After all, everything he bought you was marital property. My son Leo and I are his sole legal heirs. What do you think the odds are that I’ll be coming to collect every single penny he spent on you?” Molly’s theatrical sobbing stopped dead. Her face went pale. Seeing she’d finally quieted down, the officer gestured for a policewoman to escort her out. As Molly was led from the room, Chris tried to follow. But the frustrating part? He reached the doorway only to be snapped back by some invisible force, pulled back into the room with me. I shot him a vicious little smile. Serves you right. “Mrs. Quinn, we’ll leave you to handle Mr. Quinn’s affairs,” the officer who brought me here said gently. I assumed they’d done their due diligence before contacting me. The crash was a genuine accident. On the drive over, they’d asked a few routine questions about Chris’s life and left it at that. I had no desire to look at Chris’s face, especially not after a car wreck. I didn’t need the image of his mangled features haunting my dreams. I made a quick call to my assistant and my lawyer to handle the arrangements and prepared to leave. I’d rushed here, and while I’d asked our nanny, Mrs. Gable, to pick up Leo from preschool, I was still worried. Leo had never been close to his father, which made him incredibly attached to me. I was afraid he wouldn’t go to sleep without me there. After signing the necessary paperwork and confirming with the police that my assistant was on his way, I headed straight for the airport and booked the next flight home. 3 And just like that, it was confirmed. Chris, or what was left of him, was tethered to me. I watched his translucent form drift near the ceiling of the airplane cabin and narrowed my eyes. Well now, this could be fun. The moment I landed, a video message from Mrs. Gable popped up on my phone. In it, Leo was dressed in his adorable dinosaur pajamas, his big, innocent eyes blinking slowly. He refused to sleep, calling for me over and over. It was only when Mrs. Gable told him I was watching through the camera that he sat up, managed a wobbly smile, and spoke to the lens. “Mommy, I wanna sleep with you. Can you come home, please?” He was five, almost old enough for elementary school, but his voice was still thick with that sweet, babyish lisp that could melt any heart. I hurried my steps. My assistant had a car waiting, and in less than an hour, I was home. Mrs. Gable was reading a picture book with Leo in the living room. The moment he heard the door, he scampered over to greet me. I scooped him into my arms, murmuring comforting words as I carried him to his room. I tucked him in, read him his favorite story, and finally, his breathing evened out into the soft rhythm of sleep. While I was tending to Leo, I noticed Chris sitting on the cushioned window seat in the corner of the room. He’d never shown much interest in Leo, probably because the boy was a product of a marriage he’d grown to resent. The few times he was home, he rarely spent time with our son. It was no surprise, then, that Leo hadn’t mentioned his father once. I heard Chris’s faint, ghostly whisper. He was muttering to himself, asking why Leo never asked for his dad. I found it laughable. After placing a soft kiss on Leo’s cheek, I quietly left his room and went to the master bedroom. 4 I wasn’t about to play games with him. I sat down on the edge of the bed and spoke into the empty air. “Leo is five years old. In those five years, how many times have you actually been there for him?” “Did you ever take him to the park? Ever read him a bedtime story? Hell, our driver knows him better than you do. What exactly do you expect him to remember?” I stared at the space where I knew he was standing. We had been married for ten years. He had been sleeping with his secretary for three. The translucent figure suddenly met my gaze, his form wavering slightly. The usual composure of the great CEO Chris Quinn was gone, replaced by sheer astonishment. “You can see me.” I didn’t answer, just gave him a look one might reserve for a complete idiot. Chris sighed, a sound like rustling leaves, and drifted over to my vanity. He sat down, staring at the mirror, and seemed to freeze for a few seconds when he saw no reflection. I let out a cold laugh, crossing my arms. “So, Mr. Quinn. It seems even in death, you can’t get away from me.” The moment I discovered his affair with Molly, I had filed for divorce. He refused, citing all the classic excuses: he couldn’t live without me, Leo needed a father. He fought every petition, every motion. At one point, I took him to court, but I lacked concrete proof of the affair. Since Molly was his secretary, their constant proximity could always be explained away as work. After countless failed attempts, I had temporarily given up. But I’d found a silver lining. An invisible ATM who never came home, never caused trouble, and always paid the bills. It was a pretty sweet deal, actually. So, I began quietly purchasing real estate in Leo’s name and focused on rebuilding my own career. I had to be prepared for the day he would inevitably blindside me with his own divorce papers. I never expected to be planning his funeral instead. Chris had no siblings, and his parents had passed away years ago. This meant that every asset, every stock, every last penny to his name now belonged to me and Leo. His legally protected wife and his biological son. What a generous man he turned out to be. 5 We didn’t speak for the rest of the night. I fell asleep surprisingly quickly. The next morning, my assistant sent me the cremation certificate, along with a short video of Chris’s body being moved into the incinerator. Chris, who had been brooding in a corner, drifted over, curious about what I was watching. His eyes widened as he saw his own mortal shell sliding into the flames. “You’re not even a little sad, are you?” His voice was muffled, heavy with disbelief. He watched as I calmly took a sip of my coffee, his ghostly brow knitting into a tight knot. I ignored his question, finished my coffee, and went to wake Leo for preschool. Receiving no answer from me, Chris began to lose his composure. He floated closer, his voice rising in anger. “Vivian!” Leo, still drowsy and blissfully unaware of the spectral tantrum, giggled in my arms. “Mommy, I’m gonna bring lots of snacks to share with my friends today!” he announced, his sleepiness replaced by excitement. He chattered happily all through breakfast and while brushing his teeth, his little hands gesturing wildly. A real smile touched my lips. I helped him pack his favorite treats into his little backpack. 6 After dropping Leo off, I had a quick online meeting with my lawyer, then headed to Chris’s company headquarters. Chris seemed to be in the middle of a silent, sulking protest. He floated along beside me, arms crossed, saying nothing. Or perhaps he was just eagerly anticipating his reunion with Molly. He was in for a disappointment. Men are often so much slower to see the truth about certain things. Especially about certain women. When we arrived at the office, Molly was nowhere to be found. Chris’s other secretary, a professional and discreet woman named Ms. Hayes, was already aware of the situation. My lawyer had called ahead, so she knew why I was there. She had efficiently scheduled a board meeting for two o’clock. Ms. Hayes led me into Chris’s expansive office. “You can wait in here, Mrs. Quinn. I’ll bring you the relevant files.” She paused, hesitating for a moment before walking over to a large filing cabinet. She slid it aside, revealing a hidden door. “There’s a small suite in here if you need to rest.” Behind the door was a bedroom, complete with a large bed, a wardrobe, and an en-suite bathroom. My stomach clenched. The thought of what Chris and Molly might have done in here was enough to make me want to leave immediately. In fact, the entire office felt contaminated. The more I thought about it, the more nauseous I became. “This place is filthy,” I said, taking a half-step back and subtly wiping my nose, avoiding Chris’s gaze. “I think I’ll wait in your office, Ms. Hayes.” The silent ghost of Chris finally stirred, his gaze burning into me. I ignored his fury and gestured for Ms. Hayes to lead the way. Left with no choice, she quickly showed me to her own, much smaller, office. 7 I spent the morning reviewing documents and consulting remotely with a specialist my assistant had found. By now, Chris understood exactly what I was planning. As Ms. Hayes and I headed to the corporate cafeteria for lunch, Chris trailed behind me, his ghostly voice a venomous stream in my ear. It was almost funny. We met at seventeen, started dating at eighteen, married at twenty-three. In all that time, I had never once seen the great Chris Quinn lose his cool like this. “Vivian, how could you sell my shares?!” “You bitch!” “This is all mine! What right do you have?!” Chris had come from a modest, middle-class family. He’d built this company from the ground up, a true prodigy among his peers. He had proposed to me when we were twenty but insisted on waiting until he was twenty-three to marry, all because he wanted to give me a better life. And then, in our seventh year of marriage, he cheated. While Ms. Hayes went to get our food, I finally responded to him. “It’s mine now.” I offered no further explanation. He froze, his translucent eyes turning a furious, blood-red. “Vivian! I hope you rot in hell!” After lunch and a short break, it was time for the meeting. I hadn’t even reached the conference room when I heard a familiar voice from inside. It was Molly. I leaned against the doorframe, glancing back at Chris. The flicker of hope in his eyes was so pathetic it was almost comical. What a foolish, foolish man. “To all the board members,” Molly’s voice drifted out, trembling slightly. Chris desperately wanted to go inside, his gaze darting back and forth to me. But I remained right where I was, forcing him to listen from the hallway. “With Mr. Quinn’s passing…”

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1 The gala for my father’s 70th birthday had just ended when my wife’s frantic call cut through the night. “Adrian, it’s a disaster! The investors vanished with the money. I have to leave the country—don’t try to contact me!” Wide awake, I told her to stay safe, then hung up and immediately froze all her bank accounts. The only investor was my father, who lay drunk in the next room. What “bankruptcy” was she really running from? I took the next flight out and found her not in hiding, but glowing in a wedding gown at a five-star resort—arm in arm with her “best friend” Leo. She rushed over in panic as I entered. “Adrian, I can explain! Leo’s dying father just wanted to see him married. This is all an act.” I laughed coldly and slapped her. The sound echoed in the sudden hush. “An act? Then let me give you a wedding gift and help you keep up the show.” Leo stood flushed and trembling in his tuxedo, as if I were the one ruining his big day. “Mr. Cole,” he said, his voice dripping with false pity. “I know you’ve always struggled with Vivian’s unrequited love, and that it’s led to… certain delusions. I sympathize, truly. But this is my wedding day. Must you be so aggressive? You can’t force these things.” Vivian chimed in, her tone placating. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it after the ceremony. Please, Adrian. Don’t make a scene.” Even now, all she could think about was continuing with the wedding. I laughed again, a raw, humorless sound. My eyes fell on the watch gleaming on Leo’s wrist. It was the million-dollar Patek Philippe I had lost months ago. “No wonder you paid him a thirty-thousand-dollar-a-month salary. The two of you have been at this for a while, haven’t you?” My voice dripped with scorn. “And my watch… I bet you stole that for him too.” I sized Leo up. “One of you has the gall to steal, the other has the gall to wear it. You two really are a match made in hell.” The crowd erupted in laughter, phones held high to capture the drama. Leo stomped his foot in a theatrical fit of rage, then pulled a document from his jacket. “Open your eyes and look!” he shouted, brandishing a marriage certificate. “Vivian and I are legally married!” He pointed a triumphant finger at me. “He’s sick. He gets obsessed with any woman who shows him the slightest kindness. My wife is just his latest fixation.” The mood of the crowd shifted. A few people shot me menacing looks. “That desperate, huh? She’s a married woman. Maybe you should come up to my room instead…” one man slurred, stepping forward to grab me. I snatched a wine bottle from a nearby table and brandished it, forcing him back. I pointed the bottle at Vivian, my voice low and dangerous. “I’ll give you one last chance. Me, or him. Who is your husband?” Vivian’s eyes flickered, and her answer was a stake through my heart. “My only husband is Leo.” Her voice turned to ice. “Now, apologize to him, or I’ll have you committed to a psychiatric hospital.” Leo’s hand tightened around Vivian’s, his face a mask of smug victory. “Darling, don’t waste your breath on a lunatic. He’s not worth it.” Seeing their vile, triumphant faces, something inside me snapped. I raised the bottle, ready to bring it crashing down on them. If I was going to hell, I was dragging them with me. But Vivian was faster. She kicked out, her heel grinding into the back of my hand with a sickening crunch. A wave of white-hot agony shot up my arm, stealing my breath. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “Leo is my life,” she snarled, her eyes filled with a terrifying hatred. “You hurt him, and I will make you pay a hundred times over!” Leo, ever the actor, pretended to pull her back. “Darling, it’s our wedding day. It would be bad luck if something happened. Just make him get on his knees and apologize.” Vivian nodded, her tone one of magnanimous charity. “You heard him. Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. Otherwise, I’m making the call to the asylum right now.” The raw disgust in her eyes was like a physical blow. My first love. Seven years of my life. All of it, meaningless. I pulled out my phone and opened the photo gallery, displaying our own marriage certificate, our wedding photos. “This is proof of our marriage. I’m reporting you for bigamy!” In this country, bigamy meant prison time. Doubt flickered across the faces in the crowd. “That man’s certificate is dated seven years ago. Were these two really lying?” “If they broke the law, they should be punished!” Leo leaned in close, his voice a triumphant whisper. “You still don’t get it, do you? Your marriage certificate with Vivian is a fake. She promised me she would only ever love me. You were never worthy of marrying her.” The world tilted on its axis. The last seven years of my life, my devotion, my love—it was all a joke. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped me, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I raised a trembling hand towards him, but before I could touch him, he collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest. “Vivian!” he gasped. “My heart… I think I’m dying…” Before I could process his words, a sharp sting exploded across my face. Vivian had slapped me so hard my ears rang, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. She knelt beside Leo, cradling him, her eyes spitting venom at me. “You’ve given him a heart attack with your rage! If anything happens to him, I’ll make you pay with your life!” I tried to speak, but my tongue was thick with bitterness. “Get me to a hospital!” Leo wailed. “I can feel my heart giving out!” Vivian forgot about me entirely, shouting for someone to help carry Leo to a car. My vision swam, and the world went black. I woke up in a hospital bed. An IV was in my arm, but it wasn’t dripping fluid in; it was drawing blood out. I tried to struggle, but I was completely drained of strength. Vivian stood over me, her expression a mask of cold contempt. “Leo is in surgery. He needs a transfusion, and you happen to be a match. Consider this your apology.” “I didn’t push him!” I roared, a fresh wave of adrenaline cutting through the haze. She grabbed my wrist, her fingers digging into my flesh. “He waited seven years for me. I won’t let anything happen to him. If it does, I swear, I will burn your body to ash.” She squeezed until I was gasping for air before finally letting go, leaving me in a sea of helpless despair. The blood loss pulled me back under. I drifted back to consciousness to the sound of Leo’s voice. He was on the phone. “The arrangements with the asylum are made. The second Adrian Cole wakes up, have him transferred… I want him to spend the rest of his life in there.” He saw my eyes were open, hung up, and walked over to my bed. He poured a glass of hot water and deliberately spilled it onto my arm. “This is what you get for crossing me,” he hissed. Pain seared my skin. I trembled, biting my lip to keep from screaming. “You were faking it,” I rasped. He laughed, not even bothering to deny it. “So what if I was? Vivian only believes me.” He placed a hand over his heart. “This heart of mine could have been perfectly healthy. But I had an unfortunate little fall, you see. Made a pre-existing condition much worse. Vivian feels so guilty about it. And you, my friend, are the perfect scapegoat.” “You’re pathetic!” I choked out, shaking with rage. His smile turned predatory. “And once you’re out of the picture, all your assets will be mine.” A cold sweat broke out across my back. He wasn’t going to let me leave this hospital alive. With a surge of desperation, I threw myself out of bed, shoving him aside and stumbling for the door. But my body betrayed me. After only a few steps, my legs gave out, and I collapsed. Leo followed at a leisurely pace and kicked me hard in the ribs. “Run,” he taunted, seeing I couldn’t even get up. “I thought you were so tough.” “Just getting rid of you would be too easy. Let’s play a game. I hear there’s a local mercenary outfit that’s always looking for able-bodied labor. Why don’t we drop you off there?” I scrambled backward in horror. “You can’t. My father is—” He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back, and slapped me twice across the face. “Your family is a bunch of ungrateful snobs! Every time Vivian brought them gifts, they looked down on her. If she hadn’t been propping up your family all these years, do you think you could have lived the life of a rich kid?” My heart sank. Vivian had been a poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks when we met. I used my own savings to help her start her business. My family never approved of our marriage, so Vivian rarely interacted with them. The few times she did visit, she brought nothing more than a fruit basket. The idea that she “propped us up” was a laughable fantasy. Without my father secretly investing in her company, she never would have gone public in seven years. His bodyguards dragged me out and threw me into a waiting van. We drove to a desolate, run-down compound, where he shoved me out in front of a group of hulking, leering men. He held up his phone. “Whoever puts on the best show gets fifty grand,” he announced to the thugs, who began cracking their knuckles and advancing on me. They surrounded me, their fists flying. I grabbed a rock, hurled it at one of them, and screamed at Leo, “You will regret this!” He was unfazed. He started a video call with Vivian. My battered, helpless form on his screen sent her into peals of delighted laughter. “Leo, you’re too kind,” she chirped. “He hurt you. He should be in prison.” “He was with you for a while, Vivian,” Leo sighed dramatically. “I’m trying to be merciful. If he would just get on his knees and admit he was wrong, I wouldn’t have to do this.” “He’s a monster,” Vivian spat. “I’ve had enough of him. Leo, we’ll have to redo our wedding, of course.” They chattered on, completely ignoring my existence. My last sliver of hope died. Leo ended the call. “What are you waiting for?” he barked at the men. “Get to it, or you won’t see a dime!” I surged forward with my remaining strength, tackling Leo to the ground and closing my hands around his throat. “If I die, I’m taking you with me!” He panicked, choking and screaming for help. Suddenly, Vivian’s furious voice cut through the air. “Adrian Cole, you’re dead!” She had followed us. She scooped up a heavy stone and brought it down on the back of my head. The world exploded in a flash of pain. She kicked me off Leo, her eyes blazing with hatred. “First you hurt him, now you try to kill him? This time, I’m not holding back!” She barked orders at her bodyguards. “Get more men! And call the local media! Today, Adrian Cole’s reputation dies with him!” Ignoring the blinding pain in my head, I tried to crawl away, but I was no match for them. They dragged me back and forced me to my knees in front of Vivian and Leo. She fussed over Leo, carefully wiping dust from his suit with a sanitized cloth, refusing to even look at me. “Don’t worry, darling,” she cooed. “I’ll make him pay.” Leo clutched her hand. “I don’t blame him. As long as I’m with you, I can endure anything.” I spat at him in disgust. “How many women have you pulled that routine on? How many other fiancées does Vivian have to compete with?” I’d seen him at her office before, getting cozy with other women. I never thought he and Vivian were actually involved. My words hit their mark. Leo’s face turned red with fury. “Vivian, he’s humiliating me! I can’t live like this!” He made a show of running towards a wall, only to be “saved” by Vivian at the last second. Her eyes were burning. “It seems I’ve been too lenient with you. You’ll spend the rest of your life in this hellhole. Men! Break his arms and legs.” I thrashed in their grip, roaring, “You’ll pay for this, Vivian! As long as I’m breathing, I will never let you get away with this!” She just laughed. “Oh, I’m waiting. I remember you have that old college friend, the one who’s been single all these years, waiting for you. I wonder how she’ll react when she sees you as a crippled, broken mess. The handsome, popular boy from campus will be nothing but a pathetic joke.” I couldn’t believe it. She was going to destroy me, all for him. I felt the bones in my limbs snap. The physical agony was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. Seven years of memories, once so sweet, now tasted like ash. I lay on the ground, a useless heap, my eyes locked on hers, burning with a hatred I never knew I possessed. She stood over me, her arm linked through Leo’s, looking down at my broken form with cold satisfaction. The thugs closed in, their stench and their cruel, hungry eyes making me want to vomit. I trembled with fear, which only seemed to excite them more. Leo leaned close to Vivian. “Don’t look, my love. I don’t want you to be frightened.” “I’ll watch,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ll watch him get everything he deserves. He could never compare to your kindness and purity.” I had nothing left. I was completely and utterly alone. With my last ounce of will, I writhed on the ground like an insect, trying to escape their blows. They backed me into a corner. There was nowhere left to run. As they moved in for the kill, I closed my eyes. I’d rather die than suffer this humiliation. I was about to bite down on my own tongue when the piercing wail of sirens cut through the air. A convoy of police cars screeched to a halt, surrounding the compound. In the middle was a gleaming black Rolls-Royce with the license plate 8888—a symbol of unimaginable wealth and power. The door opened, and the man who stepped out was my father.

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I lost Leo for seven years before we finally got it right. But we only had three years together before stomach cancer took him from me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the year he hated me most. A much younger Leo was spitting venom, breaking my heart all over again. So I grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him. Leo: ? I was defiant. “We broke up. Doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you. Any questions?” 1 “…Let’s just break up, Leah. I’ve had enough.” The icy words pierced through the fog in my head. I snapped my eyes open. The dim yellow streetlight outside his walk-up apartment cast long shadows. Before me was Leo’s face—handsome, sharp, but now covered in a layer of frost. Except, he was a full decade younger. I felt a wave of dizziness. A second ago, I was in a hospital ICU. The Leo in that bed was a skeleton, his body ravaged by disease. He held my hand, using the last of his strength to whisper, “If we could do it all over again… I wouldn’t want to waste those seven years without you.” A tear rolled down my cheek. He took his last breath in my arms. And now— I was back. Back ten years, to the moment he hated me more than anyone in the world. “…From now on, we go our separate ways. I don’t want to see—” I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed the collar of his worn band t-shirt, stood on my toes, and crushed my lips against his. This soft, warm feeling… it had been so long. So different from the chapped, frail, medicine-tinged kisses I remembered. Right now, he was young, alive. Pulsing with a vibrant energy that I ached for. A greedy hunger rose in me, and I bit down, hard. “Hiss—” I broke the skin on his lip. The coppery taste of blood bloomed between us. He flinched, as if jolted from a trance, his pupils constricting in shock. “Are you insane?” He stumbled back a step, the tips of his ears burning red, his voice unsteady. “I said we’re breaking up! Can’t you understand English?” The me from ten years ago would have had her pride shattered. She would have turned and walked away without a word. But I wasn’t her. Because of this stupid, prideful breakup, Leo and I wasted seven years. Seven years he spent burying himself in work and self-destruction, numbing the pain until his body finally gave out, earning him a stage-four stomach cancer diagnosis. It meant that after we finally found our way back to each other, we only had three short years before we were separated by death. This time, I wasn’t letting him go. I licked my lips, savoring the taste of him. I looked up at him and smiled. “We broke up. Doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you. Any questions?” “You—” “You what?” I stepped forward, poking a finger into his tense chest. Suddenly, I felt a little pissed off. The Leo from seven years later would have treated me like a fragile piece of glass, like I was the most precious thing in the world. He wouldn’t be acting like this, all angry and mean, not even letting me kiss him. “Stop pretending,” I said, my finger tracing a path up his chest to his heart. “It hurts right here, doesn’t it? Like you can barely breathe. Admit it, Leo. You don’t want to break up with me any more than I do.” He froze for a second, then his face hardened again. “Who said that? Leah, don’t be so full of yourself.” “You did,” I said, my gaze locked on his. “See, the thing is, I’m from ten years in the future. And in that future, you regret this exact moment so much you come crawling back, begging me to take you back.” “That’s impossible!” he shot back, his voice a low, urgent whisper. “Leah, we’re at the end of the line. Is there any point in making up ridiculous stories like that just to lie to yourself?” Ugh. He was so stubborn. Not like the future him, who would curl up in my arms like a big, contented dog if I so much as crooked my finger. But still. After everything we went through, I knew exactly what was going on in that head of his. No matter how harsh his words were, I wasn’t scared. “Leo, I’m going to ask you one more time. Why are you breaking up with me?” He looked away, his tone clipped. “I told you. I’m tired of it. I’m bored. It’s just not working anymore.” “Liar.” I smiled, my thumb gently dabbing the corner of his lip where I’d bitten him. His face flushed, and he grabbed my wrist. “Just talk. Stop touching me!” “We’re breaking up. Shouldn’t I get in a few last touches while I can?” “…” He went silent, but he didn’t fight me anymore. The grip on my wrist loosened just a little. I took my chance, tracing a line on the inside of his warm palm. I felt his whole body tense up again, and I continued, satisfied. “You think you’re so good at hiding things, Leo? You’re doing this because you saw my father a couple of days ago, aren’t you?” Leo’s head snapped up. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “You… you knew?” I nodded, meeting his gaze calmly. “I don’t just know that. I also know you plan on destroying my father’s company to get revenge for your dad.” His pupils shrank. It was the raw, naked shock of someone whose deepest secret has just been ripped open for the world to see. I raised my hand, ignoring his rigid posture. My fingertips greedily traced his tense jawline, feeling the strong, youthful pulse beneath his skin. “It’s okay, Leo. Ruin it. “I’ll help you.” 2 Last time, when Leo forced this breakup on me, I had no idea why. I just assumed he’d fallen out of love with me. I had my pride. He said it was over, so I walked away. But I could never figure it out. The boy who once treated me like I was the center of his universe… How did he turn into this cold stranger overnight? After two weeks of agony, I couldn’t take it anymore and went to find him. That’s when I discovered he’d already left the country. Without so much as a goodbye. It wasn’t until we got back together seven years later that Leo finally told me the truth. That year, his father was betrayed by a business partner, left with crushing debt, and jumped from the roof of his office building. His mother couldn’t handle the grief and followed him soon after. Overnight, his family was destroyed, and he was an orphan. And that business partner who ruined his father… Was my father. Leo didn’t know at first. It wasn’t until our college graduation day, when he saw my dad show up to celebrate with me, that the world came crashing down on him. He hated my father with every fiber of his being. And by extension, he started to hate me, too. Pushing me away was the only choice he thought he had. … The tide of memories receded. I looked up at the shocked, lost boy in front of me. “Since you know everything…” his voice was hoarse, like he was forcing the words out. “You should understand what’s between us. It’s a blood feud, Leah. We… we can’t.” Every word was a struggle. He was sentencing both of us to death. “Logically, you’re right,” I nodded. But in the next second, I stepped closer, tilting my head up, my gaze stubbornly fixed on his. “But Leo… “Can you really, truly stop yourself from loving me?” His breath hitched. He didn’t speak. His eyes just darted back and forth, like I’d exposed his most private, shameful secret, and he looked away, flustered. “I’ve said what I needed to say. We shouldn’t see each other again.” He dropped those words and turned to leave. I didn’t try to stop him. I just followed him, strolling casually behind. Leo’s back stiffened. He turned around, frowning. “Why are you still following me?” “I still have stuff at your place,” I said with a breezy smile. “No matter what, you have to let me come up and get my things, right?” We had just graduated. This was a new apartment he’d just rented. Truthfully, I lived at home, so I didn’t really have anything here. It was just an excuse. Leo obviously knew it. His jaw tightened, his posture defensive, almost wary. “What stuff? Tell me, I’ll get it for you.” “You?” I raised an eyebrow, dragging out the word. “You’re so clumsy. What if you break something? I need to get it myself.” He glared at me, his chest rising and falling. In the end, he lost the battle, silently letting me follow him up the stairs. However. The moment the door opened, I didn’t say a word. I just took a running leap. And landed, spread-eagled, on his big bed. “Weren’t you going to pack your things?” Leo’s voice was tight with suppressed anger. I rolled over, grinning at him. “I am. “I’m planning on packing up all my stuff and moving in with you.” The color drained from Leo’s face. 3 “Leah!” His face was beet red. “We’ve already broken up! Is it appropriate for you to live here?” “Why not?” I arched an eyebrow. “If I don’t keep an eye on you, you’ll be on a plane out of the country within a month.” His eyes widened. “How… how did you know that?” “I told you, I’m from the future. You don’t believe me?” He turned his head, stubborn. “It’s not hard to figure out. The company I just started at is taking applications for overseas posts. Anyone could find that out if they asked around.” “Oh?” I smiled, slowly sitting up and inching towards him. “Well, I also know that you have a tiny red mole right where your V-line ends, in a very… private spot. “Can you find that out by asking around?” Leo was stunned. His face went from red to crimson, all the way to his ears. For the four years we were in college, our relationship was the definition of innocent. We’d never crossed that line. We’d planned to get a place after graduation, maybe unlock some new, more exciting… positions. But we broke up before we got the chance. In the future, though, after we got back together, we explored every inch of each other’s bodies. I knew him better than he knew himself. I teased him. “Oh? Is there no mole?” As I spoke, my fingers hooked onto the waistband of his jeans, just under his t-shirt. And gave them a little tug. Leo’s breathing immediately grew heavier. His body went rigid with a mixture of defensiveness and resistance, but he didn’t push me away. That conflict—wanting to say no but being physically unable to—made his whole body tense. “When… when did you see that?” he asked, his voice raspy. “You’re my man. Can’t I look?” My fingertips grazed his skin. “I didn’t just look. I also know where you’re sensitive.” My hand moved with expert precision to that ticklish spot on his side, and I gave a gentle pinch. “Ngh…” A shudder ran through him, a low, suppressed groan escaping his throat. The twenty-two-year-old Leo was so much more innocent than the thirty-year-old version. He stood no chance against this kind of teasing. The memories of those three years of intimacy made me an expert on his reactions. In a few practiced moves, I had his shirt off. I missed him so much. I missed this healthy, vibrant body, full of life. The memories of our passion, of our tangled limbs and shared heat, felt so far away. “Don’t, we can’t…” He seemed to regain a sliver of rationality, trying to resist. I pinned his struggling hands, my breath hot against his ear. “Leo, you want me too, don’t you? “Otherwise, why didn’t you stop me just now? “With your strength, you could push me away in a heartbeat. “You… you were enjoying it too much to stop, weren’t you?” That last question was the final straw. Leo’s defenses, torn between love and hate, came crashing down. He covered his face. Tears started streaming from his eyes without warning. His voice was filled with helpless despair. “Leah, why are you doing this to me? I can’t get over what happened. I can’t love you… “It took… it took everything I had to say those words to you… that was all the strength I had left. “If you do this… what am I supposed to do?” Seeing his breakdown, my own frantic desire cooled instantly. Right. I couldn’t demand that this version of Leo—the one being torn apart by love and hate—be the same as the one whose wounds had been softened by seven years of time. Pushing him like this would only cause him more pain. “Okay, you’re right. I was lying.” I let him go, my thumb gently wiping away his tears, my voice softening. “The truth is, in the future, you didn’t come back because you loved me. You came back because you hated me.” “You hated me so much… you locked me up. Made me your plaything.” “You’d hit me with your belt, lock my hands in cuffs, torture me in every way you could think of until I was begging for death.” “You didn’t choose to love me. You chose to get revenge. To unleash all your hate on me.” I sighed, trying to give him an excuse, a way to lessen his guilt. “Does that make it easier for you to stop torturing yourself?” Leo’s crying stopped. He stared at me with red-rimmed eyes, as if trying to process what I’d just said. I sighed again, not wanting to force him anymore. I was about to get up. But he suddenly grabbed my wrist. The world spun, and he had me pinned beneath him again. Our breaths mingled, hot and heavy. His eyes were a storm of hate and desire, threatening to swallow me whole. “Leah, Leah…” he gritted out my name, his voice raw. “I fucking… hate you so much.” He pulled his belt from his jeans. Gently, with a slight tremor, he slapped it against the side of my thigh. That familiar, thrilling sensation sent shivers of pleasure straight to my scalp. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my gaze locking with his. “You can… go harder.” But Leo looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. He pressed my face into the pillow. “Don’t look at me like that!” His voice was low and savage. “This is punishment!” My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest. The thirty-year-old Leo loved this position. The younger version had no technique, all clumsy and awkward. But he had a reckless, untamed energy. He was like a wild animal that had lost control, crashing into me again and again. There were no kisses, only bites. No words of love, only ragged breaths. It was as if he was trying to pour all his suppressed love and hate into my body. Until finally, everything fell silent. Leaving only the sound of our pounding hearts and damp, heavy breathing. He was still on top of me, refusing to move away. Refusing to even look at me. As if that would be enough to maintain his last shred of self-deception. 4 The room was a mess. I lay there, completely satisfied, savoring the feeling of having him back. Beside me, however, Leo was tossing and turning like a pancake on a griddle, unable to sleep. After a long while, he asked me, his voice muffled from behind. “Why are you… so good at this? “Where did you learn all these tricks?” I smiled. In our past life, Leo and I had gotten pretty creative. It was easy to give this inexperienced version of him a little shock. I turned over and stole a quick kiss. “The future you was a very good teacher. “If you want to learn, I can teach you. Slowly.” “No,” he said, his face cold as he turned away. “I’m just using you. Humiliating you. This isn’t about pleasure.” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. It was so ridiculous I almost laughed out loud. I suppressed a smile and wrapped my arms around his warm, firm waist from behind. “Mmm, you’re right. Next time… please, feel free to use me even more.” His body tensed. He grabbed my arms to stop me from hugging him tighter. “Don’t hold me. We’re not in that kind of relationship anymore.” I decided to play along. “But in the future, as part of my punishment, you made me sleep like this every night.” “You said my body would press against my hands and I wouldn’t be able to sleep well, that it was a good way to torture me with insomnia.” His resisting hands slowly went limp. I smiled and hugged him tighter. This time, he didn’t fight back. And for the first time in a long time, I could finally get a good night’s sleep. During the final days of his cancer, I lived in constant fear of losing him. I hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep in what felt like an eternity. But now, holding his hot, powerful body, I finally felt safe. For the first time in ages, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. …Well, not entirely dreamless. I saw the Leo from my past life again. He had just been diagnosed. He held the report, tried to smile at me, but his eyes were already red. “If I’d known, I never would have come back to find you. I wouldn’t have dragged you into this suffering with me…” He stroked my face. “If I go… I can’t leave you alone. I’m worried…” “Then don’t go!” I clung to his hand, my tears falling onto his skin. “Leo, we’ll fight this. We’ll be okay, I know we will…” But it was too late. In the seven years we were apart, he had destroyed his body with work and alcohol. The damage was done. By the time we found it, there was nothing to do. In just six months, he was gone. So this time, I won’t make the same mistake. He couldn’t bear to leave me, so I won’t listen to his proud, stubborn words. Even if it’s through “hate.” I will stay by his side. Watch over him, protect him. Make sure he has three warm meals a day. Make sure he lives a long, long life.

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1 The wedding rehearsal was in full swing when my fiancée, Ava, suddenly gagged and covered her mouth. Her adopted brother, Alan, his face a mask of panic, swept her into his arms and rushed her to the hospital. Half an hour later, my phone rang. “I’m pregnant.” Joy surged through me, but her next words were delivered with a terrifying calm. “It’s Alan’s… He’d just been dumped that night, shivering from the cold rain. I was just trying to keep him warm, I swear, I never thought…” “We have to keep this from Mom and Dad. He’ll move in to take care of me, and we’ll figure it out after the baby is born.” “Postpone the wedding for a year. You handle the guests, make the apologies.” My throat tightened, a knot of concrete lodging itself there. I couldn’t force out a single word. She continued, her voice devoid of emotion, “And you need to quit your job. Right now. I can’t risk any stress these next few months, and Alan’s career is taking off. He can’t be distracted.” A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips. “Alright then.” She hung up, seemingly satisfied. But what she didn’t know was the bet I’d made with someone else. If I wasn’t married by thirty, I’d marry her. And today, of all days, was my thirtieth birthday. … Perhaps my calm was too unnatural. Three seconds after she hung up, Ava called back. “Richard, I’m sorry. I know this is my fault. But you have to believe me, I only see him as a brother. The baby was a complete accident.” I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Right. Such deep brotherly love. Keeping each other warm right into bed. How touching.” The line went silent for a beat, then she sighed, a sound heavy with manufactured weariness. “I understand if you’re angry. Yell at me, hit me, I don’t care. But Alan’s an orphan. Even though Mom and Dad adopted him and treat him like their own son, the family would never accept this. They’d throw him out on the street.” “So, I need you to claim the baby as yours. It’s perfect, actually. You’ll be home from your job, so no one will ever suspect it isn’t yours.” I tilted my head back, forcing the heat from my eyes. My voice was a dry rasp. “Ava… let’s just not get married.” “Not get married?” A few seconds of stunned silence, then her voice exploded in my ear. “Richard, are you kidding me?! You’re the one who’s been begging me to set a date for months, going on about how we’ve been together for five years!” “Everyone in our circle knows you’re my fiancé! Do you think marriage is some kind of game? When did you become so childish, Richard?” I could picture her perfectly, brows furrowed in that familiar, condescending way. Her next words were a threat, just as I expected. “Listen to me, Mr. Reid, I’m only going to ask you this once. Are you really calling off this wedding?!” My fingers clenched around my phone, the plastic groaning in protest. A bitter smile touched my lips. “Yeah. I’m done with you, Ava.” She scoffed. “I don’t have time for your little tantrums. Do whatever you want.” The line went dead. I stood alone in the center of the grand ballroom, under the weight of a hundred shocked stares. With a single, sharp tug, I ripped the boutonnière from my lapel and ran. Ava’s parents moved to block my path, her father striking first. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Richard? Just because her brother took her to the hospital, you’re going to ruin this wedding? Make the Sterlings a laughingstock in front of hundreds of guests?” Ava’s mother added with a disdainful sniff, “I always said you weren’t right for her. The Sterlings have a legacy, a name that means something. The Reids? You’re just new money. It was never a match.” “But my daughter insisted, so what could I do? And now look at the mess you’ve made!” Her father sneered. “Fine! Call it off! Better now than later, before that temper of yours tarnishes the Sterling name for good.” The fault was entirely Ava’s, yet here they were, painting me as the villain. I clutched the crushed flower in my fist, my fingertips trembling. “It was your daughter who canceled the wedding. As for the reason… you should ask her. It’s too humiliating for me to say.” Hearing it was Ava’s decision only made them bolder. “Even if she did, you’re the groom! You don’t just run off without a word! You should be on that stage, apologizing to our guests!” “What did your parents teach you? You have no grasp of basic decency. How could you ever be a son-in-law to this family?” I took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not marrying Ava. Now, if you’ll excuse me, please get out of my way.” “You!” Their faces contorted with shock, clearly unprepared for such defiance from the normally placid man they knew. I didn’t spare them another glance, striding past them toward the dressing room. “You ill-mannered brat!” Ava’s mother shrieked at my back. Someone was already waiting for me inside. The couture gown she wore hugged her flawless figure perfectly. As she turned, the light caught the soft curve of her cheek, but the dark circles under her eyes told a story of sleepless nights. She saw me and glided forward, that familiar, sweet smile playing on her lips. I looked away. “I thought a certain someone swore they’d never set foot at my wedding.” She leaned in close, her warm breath ghosting over my ear. In that instant, our eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the stubborn girl from ten years ago. “Richard Reid, a bet’s a bet.” I pressed my lips together, silent. Panic flashed in her eyes. “You didn’t forget, did you?!” “I don’t care! We’re getting married in three days. If you don’t show up…” She paused, taking a breath as if steeling herself. “I’ll show up at your house and drag you to the courthouse myself!” Before I could refuse, she spun around and darted out of the room. A real laugh, genuine this time, bubbled up from my chest. That idiot. Of course, I remembered the bet. Our families had been friends forever. We grew up together, too close to ever be lovers. Ten years ago, she confessed her feelings, and I told her we were better off as friends. The look of hurt on her face had prompted her to make a wild bet. I never thought I’d lose. I had just changed out of my tuxedo when a picture from Ava landed on my phone. A mountain of my belongings was piled up on the curb in front of our villa, dumped like trash. But it was the wedding quilt my mother had handmade that stabbed me in the heart. My mom, who had never touched a needle in her life, had spent three months hunched over it, her fingers dotted with pinpricks of blood. The intricate patterns of intertwined swans, embroidered in vibrant silk, were now sullied, screaming at me from inside a cheap, clear plastic bag. 「Come get your junk. Now.」 「If you don’t, I’m having the housekeeper trash it.」 I stared at the screen, a chill seeping into my fingertips. She knew exactly how to twist the knife. I could leave everything else, but not that quilt. 「Fine. I’m on my way.」 The night before the wedding, Mom had pressed it into my hands, her eyes shining. “Be happy for a lifetime, my son.” But when I arrived, the curb was empty. It had only been half an hour. I told her I was coming. Was she that desperate to be rid of me? Rage ignited in my gut. I shoved the front door open and stormed inside. The scene before me plunged me into an icy abyss. Ava was perched on the edge of the dining table while Alan knelt before her. His hands were on her waist, his cheek pressed against her swollen belly, a look of tender adoration on his face that was like a physical blow. “Ava,” Alan murmured, his voice soft. “The baby just kicked me.” A smile I’d never seen before graced Ava’s lips, a look so soft it could turn to water. “So feisty. Just like you were as a boy. I hope he gets your eyes.” Alan’s lips curved in a gentle smile. Ava leaned down and brushed a kiss across his mouth, her tone suddenly laced with guilt. “Are you sure you want to leave after the baby is born? You could… you could stay. To help me with him. A child needs his real father.” Alan pressed a finger to her lips, shaking his head. “Ava, if I stay, what about Richard?” At the mention of my name, Ava flinched, her expression darkening. “Him? This ‘breakup’ is just a tantrum. Once the baby’s here, he’ll come crawling back, begging to help. He comes from a family of sharks. All they see is the bottom line. Where’s the dignity in that?” “Have you forgotten how he chased after me? The way he groveled? It makes me sick just thinking about it.” Silent tears tracked down my cheeks. My brave confession, the one that had taken all my courage, had disgusted her for all these years. The Sterlings were the most prestigious family in the city’s art scene, and Ava was its youngest star, a master of modern art. Five years ago, she came to my father with a portfolio, seeking investors for the new Sterling Arts Foundation. Dad was utterly charmed and introduced us. It was love at first sight for me. I shamelessly begged her to teach me how to paint. She’d pointed a brush at me, exasperated. “You’re hopeless! Zero talent!” I just grinned. “Then be my girlfriend. We’ll complement each other.” Her eyes flickered to Alan, who was sketching quietly nearby. She suddenly grabbed my hand, a self-mocking smile on her face. “Fine.” Overjoyed, I’d pulled her into a hug, completely missing Alan storming out of the room or the way her body went rigid in my arms. Only now did I understand. Her heart had always belonged to Alan. No wonder she never taught me to paint again, never even let me into her studio. A bitter taste filled my mouth. I was about to turn and leave, but I couldn’t forget my mother’s quilt. “Richard!” Ava’s head snapped up, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “What are you doing, lurking in the doorway like a creep? I threw your things out. Having second thoughts already?” I dug my nails into my palm. “The quilt. Give it back.” She blinked, her expression turning colder. “Some old blanket? What would I want with that?” “My mother made it,” I said, my voice starting to shake. “Give it back, and I’ll leave.” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, she frowned. “You’re crying? Are you insane? Over a stupid blanket?” “YES!” I roared, the tears finally breaking free. Ava ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. She opened her mouth to say something, but Alan spoke first, a sudden realization dawning on his face. “Richard, please don’t yell at Ava. I had the maid put your things in the guest room.” As he spoke, he gently caressed her stomach, his own eyes reddening. “Richard, can’t you stay? If it’s because of the baby… I can… I can ask Ava to get rid of it. His existence was a mistake. Neither of you wants him…” His voice broke, and he dissolved into racking sobs. “DON’T YOU DARE!” Ava’s voice was a raw, uncontrolled shriek. She collapsed into Alan’s arms, glaring at me with pure venom. “He can leave, but he is not touching my child! You and this baby are all I have now!” “Richard, if that’s why you came, then get the hell out of my house!” I let out a cold laugh and stalked toward the guest room. The quilt was tossed on the floor, stained with grime and dotted with cigarette burns. The beautiful embroidered swans were now a filthy, unrecognizable mess. My finger trembled as I pointed at it. “Alan. Explain.” He shrank back timidly. “I-I didn’t mean to. I thought it was just… trash.” He bent to pick it up. “Don’t be angry, Richard. I’ll wash it for you.” But before he could touch it, Ava lunged, shoving me with all her might. I stumbled backward, my head cracking against the sharp corner of the bedframe. A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes, followed by the warm trickle of blood down my temple. “Don’t touch it, Alan! Don’t dirty your hands!” I didn’t make a sound, just looked at Ava, a ghost of a smile on my face. I needed to see, once and for all, if she had a heart. She stood with her arm around Alan, her eyes filled with an all-consuming loathing. “How much? I’ll pay you for it! I’m begging you, just stop. Stop torturing me and my brother with this insignificant piece of cloth. Does it make you feel powerful?” A gaping hole opened in my chest. She’d always been distant, but she had never looked at me with such hate. She must despise me now. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore. Why was I still here, just to be an object of her disgust? I gave up. The quilt was ruined. I didn’t want it anymore. And this ruined woman… I didn’t want her either. I pushed myself to my feet. “Ava, I don’t need your money.” As I turned to leave, she grabbed my arm, a flicker of something like regret in her eyes. “You’re upset today. Go back to your parents’ place for a few days to cool off. I’ll come get you in three days.” I shook her hand off and walked out of the house that was never truly my home. … Back at my parents’ house, I explained the whole sordid affair. My mother let out a long sigh of relief. “Son, I’m thanking my lucky stars! What if you’d only found this out after you were married? What would you have done?” “And the Sterlings have the nerve to look down on us for being business people, for having the ‘stench of money.’ Look at the shameless filth their ‘cultured’ family produced!” My father sighed. “Let’s not talk about it. It’s hard enough on Richard as it is. I’ve already told my assistant to pull all our funding from the Sterling Arts Foundation. The Reids are done with the Sterlings.” I was about to bring up Chloe when my mother suddenly said, “Oh, that’s right. Chloe stopped by today. She even brought her dowry.” She pulled a velvet box from a drawer. “That girl certainly doesn’t waste any time.” Inside was a pair of antique jade pendants, a family heirloom. It was then that it truly hit me. Chloe was serious about the wedding in three days. Later that night, a message from Alan popped up on my phone. 「Richard, please come back.」 「I’ll move out. I’ll convince Ava to end the pregnancy.」 「You two have been together for five years. You can’t let me ruin that. I’d feel guilty for the rest of my life.」 I stared at the screen and scoffed. If he wanted to play games, he could play them with his sister. I typed back two words: 「Do you.」 Then, I blocked his number. With that done, I leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, a hollow feeling echoing in my chest. My phone buzzed again. A video call from Chloe. “Richard,” she said, her eyes sparkling on the screen. “Make a heart with your hands for me.” I blinked. “Why all of a sudden…” A heart? How corny. “I don’t care,” she pouted, leaning closer to the camera. “Do it now.” Her childish expression made me smile. I quickly flashed a heart sign, feeling goosebumps rise on my own skin. She immediately clutched her chest and closed her eyes in an exaggerated swoon. When she opened them again, she winked. My heart skipped a beat. “Look outside. A gift in return.” She smiled, and the call ended. Suddenly, the night sky outside my window erupted in light. Hundreds of drones formed a twinkling heart, which then morphed into a line of text: 「HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RICHARD」 Tears blurred my vision. With all the drama today, I’d completely forgotten my own birthday. But she remembered. It was a little cheesy, but her sincerity was real, and I loved it. Ava, on the other hand… every year for my birthday, she’d simply write “Happy Birthday” in her elegant script. She never even signed my name. “My art has collectible value,” she would always explain. “If I put your name on it, its value decreases.” This year, she’d just said, “I’m too busy with the wedding. No time.” But this “busy” wedding planning? I was the one who visited twenty different bridal shops to find her dress. I was the one who compared over thirty quotes from different venues. I was the one who stayed up all night handwriting three hundred invitations. The only thing she participated in was a five-minute fitting for her main gown, and she spent the entire time checking her watch. The signs were all there. She never loved me. A sharp pain seized my heart, and I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. I’d cried enough today. On my birthday, at least, I could afford myself a little dignity. The buzz of my phone woke me from a deep sleep. I groggily answered it. Ava’s voice, raw with panic, screamed through the speaker. “Richard, get to the hospital right now! Something’s happened to Alan!” I shot up in bed, instantly awake. Were his texts for real? Without even changing, I bolted out the door in my pajamas and slippers. When I burst into the hospital room, I found Alan propped up comfortably against the pillows while Ava tenderly peeled an apple for him. They looked like a picture of domestic bliss, while I stood there, one slipper half-off, looking like a complete fool. The moment she saw me, Ava flew into a rage, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the bedside. “Kneel for my brother!” I stared at her, utterly bewildered. Before I could process her words, a brutal kick landed on the back of my knee. My kneecap slammed into the hard linoleum floor, a searing pain shooting up my leg, paralyzing me. “Ava! Are you crazy?” I glared up at her. Her eyes were burning with a terrifying fury. “He slit his wrist! He almost died! Don’t you dare call me crazy, right now I want to kill you!” Right on cue, Alan began to sob. “Ava, I sent Richard a message to apologize, and he blocked me. He must hate me so much… He never wants to see me again. What’s the point of me even living…” As much as I despised him, I didn’t want a death on my conscience. I quickly scanned him. On his wrist was a thin, half-centimeter scratch, already scabbed over with antiseptic. This was his suicide attempt? A wave of bleak despair washed over me. I twisted my lips into a grimace. “Ava, if I’d come tomorrow, would the wound have healed completely?” She exploded. “Richard! How can you be so cruel? If I hadn’t found him in time… Do you have any idea what happens when someone loses that much blood?” Love really is blind. A tiny scratch had sent her into a panic, yet she was completely oblivious to the blood matting the hair on my own forehead. She must love him to death. My heart felt like it was sinking, weighed down by a stone. I gritted my teeth and said nothing. My silence seemed to enrage her further. She shoved the fruit knife at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Since you think it’s no big deal, then give yourself the same cut. See how it feels. You owe my brother that!” I stared at her in disbelief. This was the woman I had loved unconditionally for five years. In that single moment, my heart turned to ice. Fine. One cut. Then my debt to her would be paid. Lowering my eyes to hide the tears, I picked up the knife and drew it lightly across my wrist. Alan let out a theatrical gasp. I struggled to my feet and held my arm out for Ava to see. “Is this enough?” Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she shot my arm a look of disgust before turning to comfort the “traumatized” Alan, muttering under her breath. “Who told you to cut so deep? You’re hopelessly stupid.” I laughed without a sound and stumbled toward the door. Her voice followed me, cold and commanding. “Richard, you stay at your parents’ house and think about what you’ve done! I’ll come get you in three days.” I laughed so hard the tears finally fell. Ava, we are never, ever seeing each other again.

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In the third year of my hopeless crush on Julian Hayes, he got “truth” in a game of Truth or Dare. Someone asked him his type. “Smart,” he said. My grades were good, so naturally, my name came up. He tightened his grip on his red Solo cup and scoffed. “I’d have to be certifiably insane to like her.” I froze in the doorway, then quietly turned around. I walked home in the pouring rain and spiked a high fever. When I woke up, I was in a place I didn’t recognize. Standing by the bed were two adorable twin boys, their eyes wide and blinking as they stared at me nervously. I sat up, wary. “Who… who are you?” “That’s enough!” A familiar figure strode in from the hallway. “You can pull this crap with me, but now you’re going to pretend you don’t know your own sons?” I stared at Julian Hayes, dressed in a sharp business suit, my mind a complete blank. 1 I just graduated high school. How could I possibly have sons? “A nightmare. This has to be a nightmare,” I muttered. Under the baffled gazes of one adult and two small children, I lay back down and tried to will myself back to my own reality. “Clara, what’s the game now?” Julian’s voice was tight with anger as he hauled me out of bed. I rubbed my wrist where his grip had been too tight. “This jerk,” I mumbled to myself. “Bad enough he’s got a mean streak, but he’s not even a gentleman in my dreams.” The pain felt surprisingly real, though. This didn’t feel like a dream. After a moment of hesitation, I reached out a trembling hand and poked Julian’s stoic face. It was warm. The texture of his skin felt real. My eyes darted around the room again, finally landing on a large, framed wedding photo on the wall. It was him and me. My heart hammering, I fumbled for the phone on the nightstand and checked the date. My brain short-circuited. Overnight, I had somehow jumped eight years into the future. And I was married to Julian Hayes. “What are you doing with the suitcases? Running away again?” The man’s cold voice pulled me back to the present. I followed his gaze. Two large suitcases were packed and standing neatly by the door. This wasn’t just running away; this looked like moving out. My eyes met his, and the sheer pressure in his stare made me flinch. “Why are you looking at me? I didn’t do this,” I said in a small voice. “I…” “Can you just stop for one second?” he cut me off, but his tone had softened, laced with a deep exhaustion. After a few seconds of silence, I tugged on his sleeve. “If I told you I’m from eight years in the past,” I asked tentatively, “would you believe me?” “Clara, that’s enough,” Julian growled. His eyes were burning with anger, a vein throbbing at his temple. I let go of his sleeve and pouted. “Fine, don’t believe me. You don’t have to yell.” The standoff was broken by his phone ringing. He shot me one last glare before stepping into the hall to take the call. When he came back, he grabbed a set of car keys from the dresser. “Something came up at the office. I have to go.” He walked to the door, then paused and looked back, his expression complicated. “Pretend you have amnesia, hate me, do whatever you want. But the boys are innocent. It’ll crush them if you won’t even acknowledge them.” 2 I didn’t know if his sons would be crushed, but I knew I would be if I couldn’t get back. I tried everything I could think of. Nothing worked. Frustrated, I heard a rustling sound from under the dining table. I looked over and caught a glimpse of two chubby little cheeks. Sensing my gaze, they turned. Two pairs of big, grape-like eyes lit up as they looked at me, full of shyness. I forced a weak smile. “Playing hide-and-seek?” I asked. “Don’t mind me, you guys carry on.” I had just turned to leave when one of the little guys scrambled out from under the table and blocked my path. He twisted his little hands together and looked at the floor. “Is Mommy going to leave us again?” he whispered. The word “Mommy” hit me like a ton of bricks. I quickly knelt and covered his mouth. “You can’t call me that, sweetie. Call me… Clara.” A child’s emotions are impossible to hide. He blinked, confused for a second, then his little mouth crumpled, and he burst into tears. “But you *are* Mommy!” he wailed, trying to bury his face in my shirt. No amount of shushing could calm him down. As his cries grew louder, I started patting his back gently. “Okay, okay, fine. You can call me whatever you want.” The crying stopped instantly. His little shoulders hitched as he sniffled, his eyes as red as a rabbit’s. “And Mommy can’t leave,” he mumbled. I figured I’d humor him for now. “Okay,” I agreed. But that wasn’t enough. He pointed to his cheek, his head still bowed. “And… a kiss,” he whispered. He looked so much like a miniature Julian. I wanted to say no, but he started whimpering again. For the sake of peace and quiet, I closed my eyes and quickly pecked his cheek. He touched his face, and his stormy expression immediately cleared. “Mommy’s not leaving!” he cheered. “Mommy kissed me!” As I stood up, I felt a tug on my shirt. “Hmph!” Oh, right. There was another one. I looked down and gently stroked his puffed-out cheek. “Hm? What’s wrong?” His little face was a mask of stoicism. He pointed at his twin, who was now happily running in circles. Then he hooked one of my fingers with his own and gave it a tiny shake. He tilted his head back. “…Kiss!” This one seemed more serious, probably harder to please. I knelt again and gave him a quick kiss too. “Is that better?” He stared at me blankly for a second, then a tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, and he nodded. He wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, “Love… Mommy.” Then he turned bright red and ran off. Honestly, these two little guys were way more likable than their father. I kind of wanted to take them with me and let Julian die alone. 3 After a busy afternoon of trying and failing to get back to my own time, I decided to go outside and see if I could find any clues. I changed my clothes and came out of the bedroom, only to stop short. The two little boys were dressed in pajamas, sitting side-by-side on the sofa, each holding a storybook, looking like they were waiting for something. I wanted to ask, but I realized I didn’t know their names. “The one on the left is Caleb, and on the right is Cody,” the nanny whispered to me as she passed by. “Caleb has autism, and Cody… well, he’s not as carefree as other kids his age.” “Daddy always comes home to read us a story, no matter how busy he is,” Cody explained, carefully placing his book in my hands. “Mr. Hayes has it tough,” the nanny started to say. “After putting the boys to bed, he still has to…” She caught my eye and trailed off. I glanced back at the sofa. Their little heads were drooping with disappointment. Clearly, Julian was late today. I clenched my fists and forced myself to walk to the door. I paused. Took a deep breath. And walked back. I knelt and stroked their faces. “How about I read to you guys tonight?” 4 Two drooping heads shot up, their round eyes shining like stars. They nodded excitedly. They scrambled into bed, pulled the covers up themselves, and obediently closed their eyes. They begged me to read story after story. I was getting sleepy, but they seemed to be getting more and more awake. My eyelids started to feel heavy. The words on the page blurred. My brain started to malfunction. After nonsensically narrating how “the Big Bad Wolf and the three little pigs all went to college together,” I couldn’t fight it anymore and passed out. … In a groggy haze, I felt myself being lifted. Thinking it was just a sleep twitch, I subconsciously rolled over, burying my face into something warm and comfortable. Then I smelled a familiar, clean scent. My mind went blank for a second, then snapped into focus. I opened my eyes and found myself looking up into a pair of dark, smiling ones. Julian. The heat from his hand was seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt, right at the small of my back. I yelped as if electrocuted and scrambled out of his arms. “Who said you could hold me?” I demanded. His suit jacket was gone, leaving him in just a dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone. He looked tired, but his features were sharper, more mature than the boy I remembered from eight years ago. “Then who should?” Julian’s smile vanished. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sneered. “Leo?” That night at the party, after Julian had so cruelly dismissed the idea of liking me, I had run into Leo, our class president, as I was leaving. He’d confessed his feelings for me, his face beet red. Just then, some other friends came out, overheard, and dragged us back inside, teasingly demanding he say it again for everyone. So he wouldn’t be embarrassed, I’d tentatively agreed to go on a date with him. … My failure to deny it back then was, in Julian’s eyes, a confirmation. He grabbed my chin, his gaze dark, his voice turning colder. “You’d better not forget who you are.” I slapped his hand away and laughed coldly. “Who I am? Do I have an identity here? Did I ever have a choice?” I shot back. “Julian, I never did anything to you. If you hate me so much, why did you marry me?” 5 The air went still. Julian frowned. “What are you even talking about? Who said I hate you? I…” “Daddy~” Cody emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He glanced nervously at me, then at Julian. “Are you and Mommy fighting?” Our eyes met. In a flash, Julian’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against him. He instantly switched into doting-husband-and-father mode. “Of course not,” he said smoothly. “Mommy and Daddy always get along. Your mom has a big debate at work tomorrow, and we were just practicing.” Cody tilted his head, thinking. Then he shook it. “Liar. If you got along, why does Mommy always try to run away?” “That’s nonsense. She’s not running away.” Julian shot me a wounded look. “Your mommy just likes playing hide-and-seek, just like you guys.” His hand on my waist tightened. “Right, honey?” I looked away, refusing to answer. But my eyes accidentally met Caleb’s. He was staring at us, his brow furrowed, picking at his fingers so hard they were turning red. He was on the verge of an episode. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “That’s right. Your dad is right.” I watched as Caleb stopped picking at his hands, his brow slowly smoothing out. I let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t believe you,” Cody said, looking up at us skeptically. “Michael’s parents are always kissing. You guys never do. Unless… unless Mommy kisses Daddy. Then I’ll believe you.” I was completely cornered. Kids these days were too smart. There was no way I could fulfill that request. After a long, awkward silence, I elbowed the man beside me who was pretending to be a statue. “Well? Say something helpful.” Julian glanced at me, then grunted reluctantly. To my complete shock, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. He straightened up and looked at his son matter-of-factly. “There. Now get back to bed. Don’t bother your mom, she’s shy.” 6 I was still in a daze long after the boys had gone back to their room. “I helped,” Julian stated calmly. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. “I said, ‘Say something helpful,’ not ‘do something helpful’.” He just shrugged. “What’s the difference? Same result.” Furious, I slapped him across the face. “You took advantage of the situation! You’re shameless!” Before the words were even out, he grabbed my hand, his grip like steel. I struggled, but couldn’t break free. “What?” I said, trying to sound brave. “Am I wrong? Let go of me.” Our eyes locked. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Can you… say more?” he asked, his voice strangely quiet. “Yell at me. Hit me again. Anything.” I just blinked at him. “Are you sick?” Catching him off guard, I yanked my hand free and fled back to my room. 7 The next morning at the breakfast table, Julian was sporting dark circles under his eyes and kept glancing at me. As soon as the boys went to get their backpacks, he spoke, his voice full of complaint. “You have to let me back in the bedroom tonight. I can’t sleep well in the guest room.” I nodded. “Okay. Then I’ll move to the guest room.” His face fell. “Clara, what is that supposed to mean? Are you just taking advantage of the fact that I let you get away with everything?” I met his gaze. “If that’s what you want to call it, I can’t stop you.” His face was thunderous. He didn’t even finish his breakfast before storming out of the dining room. He met the boys coming out of their room and took their hands. He shot me one last cold look. “Come on. Dad’s taking you to school.” Caleb and Cody didn’t move. They both looked at me. “We want Mommy to take us,” Cody said in a small voice. “Mommy… take us,” Caleb echoed. Julian looked like he’d been hit by a truck for the second time that morning. His glare in my direction was even more resentful than before.

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The sky wept sheets of rain on the day my husband decided to play God. He was at the port with Sophia, my petulant stepsister, who had thrown another one of her signature tantrums and run away from home. He, of course, had dutifully followed to coax her back. Standing amidst the storm-lashed shipping containers, Sophia pointed a dramatic finger at a stacked row. A wild idea sparked in her eyes. “Ethan, I dare you,” she said, her voice a childish challenge against the wind. “Like in the movies. Bet you can’t make the car fly over them.” A reckless grin spread across Ethan’s face. Instead of talking sense into her, he floored the accelerator, aiming his BMW for a makeshift ramp of wooden pallets. The tires screeched, lost traction on the rain-slicked wood, and the car slammed sideways into a towering stack of containers that was already groaning under the assault of the wind. The metal giant swayed, then fell. Ethan ignored the small car crushed beneath it. His first and only instinct was to cup Sophia’s face in his hands, his voice a low murmur meant only for her. “Are you scared? God, this weather… It’s okay, Soph. You’re safe.” Only when the car was flattened into a tin pancake, dark liquid seeping out to mix with the rain, did Ethan finally pull out his phone. “Yeah, 911? My wife, Olivia… I think she’s been in an accident.” My brother, Noah, and I had just grabbed lattes when we saw the flashing lights drawing a crowd at the port. Through the downpour, we could see firefighters working frantically, prying at the window of a crushed car. “Ma’am! Can you hear me? Ma’am, wake up!” Who was that, flattened in the driver’s seat, blood streaming from her face? 1 I grabbed my brother’s wrist and pulled him back, melting into the chaos of the crowd. The scene was a nightmare of twisted metal and flashing lights. The rain washed the blood away almost as soon as it pooled, turning the mud at our feet a sickening shade of pink. Huddled behind a few dockworkers, I listened to their hushed, angry conversation. “Damn shame. If that guy had called for help sooner, she might’ve had a chance.” “You’re telling me. When the container first fell, the car wasn’t totally crushed. But he just stood there, holding that other girl, comforting her. Wasted a good fifteen minutes.” “And her! What a piece of work. Crying about how scared she was. Does she think the Port of Baltimore is her personal playground? Driving around like a maniac.” An arctic chill shot up my spine. Ethan. My husband. He had treated a human life as a prop in his little drama of comforting another woman. Just then, Ethan emerged from behind the police tape, his arm wrapped protectively around a still-trembling Sophia. He spotted my mother in the crowd, and his face went pale. He quickly pulled her aside. “Diane! What are you doing here? It’s not safe!” My mom had just gotten his call. She was crying so hard she could barely stand, her fingers digging into his arm. “Ethan! Where is Liv? What happened to my Olivia?!” A flicker of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes, instantly masked by a practiced, somber expression. “Diane, you need to stay calm. It all happened so fast. The containers… I couldn’t get to her in time.” He then added, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, “And Sophia was in shock. I had to take care of her first. You understand, right?” The sheer audacity of his twisted logic made my mother tremble with rage. “Understand? Your wife is under that wreckage, and you thought comforting your stepsister was the priority? Ethan, have you lost your soul?” His jaw tightened, a flash of indignation in his eyes as if he were the one being wronged. “It was Olivia who was being unstable! She’s the one who drove out to the middle of nowhere and parked in a hazardous zone. Sophia was just worried about her! That’s the only reason I followed them out here!” My nails dug into my palms. Lies. All of it. He was here to entertain Sophia. Sophia lifted her tear-stained face from Ethan’s shoulder, her voice a fragile whisper. “Diane, it’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have run away. Then Liv wouldn’t have gotten so jealous and done something so reckless…” She paused, letting the poison sink in. “I’m leaving for my program in Paris soon. Please… don’t blame Ethan anymore, okay?” Her words, cloaked in guilt, were daggers, each one painting me as a jealous, unhinged wife who had brought this on herself. Ethan seized the narrative she’d spun for him, his expression shifting to one of profound sorrow. “Diane, what’s done is done. Making a scene won’t do anyone’s reputation any good.” His voice dropped. “I’ll handle Liv’s arrangements. It will be beautiful. It’s the last thing I can do for her.” Nausea churned in my stomach. To protect Sophia, he had already convicted me, sentenced me, and was now planning my funeral. This man wasn’t just flawed; he was rotten to the core, lost in a pathetic fantasy of his own noble suffering and his bottomless devotion to her. My mother raised her hand and slapped him. The sound was a sharp crack that cut through the drone of the rain. Ethan clutched his cheek, stunned. Sophia shrieked, jumping in front of him like a loyal guard dog. “Diane! How could you hit him? He’s a victim in this, too!” Ignoring her, my mother pointed a trembling finger at Ethan’s face. “That,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “was for my daughter. For your rotten, ungrateful heart.” A police officer, drawn by the commotion, walked over. “What’s going on here? Ma’am, please, you need to remain calm. Let us do our work.” My mother turned to him, her voice raw but steady. “Officer, I’m the… victim’s mother. My daughter would never have parked her car in a dangerous area for no reason. I want to see all the security footage from this port.” I needed to know exactly what they had “done” to me. “Ma’am, I’ve already given the police my statement,” Ethan interjected, his face a mask of fury. “Are you trying to make this even harder for Olivia? Don’t you think she deserves to rest in peace?!”

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The boy I had a crush on in high school became one of the biggest movie stars on the planet. Before I finally gave in to my mom’s demands and went on a blind date, I bought a ticket to see his concert. One last goodbye to a foolish dream. During the fan interaction segment, the camera panned across the massive arena, and of all the tens of thousands of people, it landed on me. My face was suddenly on the jumbotron, right next to his. The host asked, “What’s the one thing you want to say right now?” When the microphone reached my hands, my throat closed up. I was completely overwhelmed. So I did the only thing I could think of. I used sign language. The crowd was confused, a low murmur rippling through the stadium. But then, on the giant screen, he signed back. “I’m great. Especially today. I saw the person I like. And you?” 1 “You’re twenty-seven, Clara. All you do is follow that celebrity around online. You never go out. Your cousin Sarah just got engaged, and you’re not even trying.” My mom pointed an accusing finger at the poster of Leo Vance on my bedroom wall. “Can you marry a poster? Is that your plan? It would make me so happy if you just brought a nice boy home for once.” At twenty-seven, my social media feed was an endless stream of engagement rings and baby announcements. The pressure from my family was relentless, but I was an immovable object. Every time I went home for Sunday dinner, I left with my ears ringing. My mom had set me up on at least four blind dates in the last two years. I’d dodged them all with the “crazy busy at work” excuse. No one knew that my heart had been occupied for a very, very long time. The problem was, the boy who held it was now a globally famous superstar, and the distance between us felt more like a galaxy. I was staring at a small photo card of him, lost in thought, when my mom snatched it out of my hand and tossed it in the trash can. “What’s the point of looking at this all day? He doesn’t even know you exist.” She was right. Leo Vance wouldn’t remember me. He’d been famous since he was seventeen, starting as a singer before transitioning to acting. At twenty-two, he won an Oscar. In the three years since, his movies had grossed over a billion dollars. He was in a league of his own, a celestial body in the Hollywood sky. And I was just… me. “Listen to me,” she said, her tone final. “Next month, you are going on this date. Mrs. Gable from next door set it up. She says he’s handsome and has a good job.” To get her off my back, I finally agreed. The second she left my room, I fished the little photo card out of the trash. I wiped it clean with a tissue and carefully tucked it back into its sleeve in my desk drawer. My mom had no idea. These little things she saw as trash were the artifacts of my entire youth. A silent, one-sided love story. Maybe that’s why I was here, sitting in this arena. It felt like I was attending a funeral for my own heart. The house lights went down. A roar went through the crowd as the countdown appeared on the giant screens. My own heart hammered against my ribs in time with the bass. When the lights exploded back on, Leo was rising from the center of the stage. The sound was deafening. “Hello, Los Angeles!” he yelled into the mic. “My name is Leo Vance, and welcome to my very first solo tour!” That voice. It instantly transported me back to the accident, to the memory of a teenage boy repeating my name over and over. “Don’t be scared, Clara! I’ve got you!” The memories came flooding back, a painful reminder of how different our lives had become. From my seat, hidden in the anonymity of the crowd, I watched the boy I knew become the superstar on stage. Leo, I thought. It’s been a long time. 2 During a break between songs, the fan-cam started sweeping the audience. The girls next to me were screaming, waving their arms, praying to be the chosen one. I was just happy to be here, to see him in person one last time. It was worth the thousand bucks I’d paid a scalper for this VIP seat. I was lost in the moment when the camera suddenly stopped. On me. A cheer went up from the sections around me. On stage, Leo’s gaze shifted from the roaring crowd to the screen, and then down into the audience, trying to find me. My face was plastered on the jumbotron, ten feet high. I was in a split screen with Leo Vance. I never, ever imagined our reunion would be like this. I was frozen. A staff member handed me a microphone as the host’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Let’s give it up for our lucky fan! You get a chance to chat with Leo!” He continued, “So, tell us, what’s the one thing you want to say to Leo right now?” My voice was gone. So I lifted my hands and signed the question that had been sitting in my heart for years. “How have you been?” The audience fell into a confused silence. But then, to my utter shock, Leo lifted his own hands. And on the screen for the whole world to see, he signed back. “I’m great. Especially today. I saw the person I like. And you?” 3 After he signed it, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. The fans around me were frantically taking pictures of the screen. My own face was burning, my heart doing a frantic tap dance in my chest. I wished time could just stop right there. Then the meaning of his words hit the rest of the arena, and the place exploded. The girl next to me, a fellow fan, grabbed my arm, her voice ecstatic. “Oh my god! He just confessed to us! He said he saw the person he likes! He meant us, his fans! He loves us!” In that instant, my little bubble of hope burst. Of course. He had someone he liked. I forced a smile onto my own face and signed a simple gesture of blessing toward the stage. As the camera moved on to the next fan, I gave a small wave. Goodbye, Leo. The boy who had owned my heart for a whole decade. 4 After the concert ended and the crowd began to file out, a man in a staff jacket hurried over to me. “Excuse me, miss? Clara?” he asked. “Leo prepared a signed gift package for the lucky fans tonight. Could I get your contact info and an address so we can mail it to you?” I looked at him. It was David, his manager. I’d seen him in a hundred paparazzi photos. I was more nervous talking to him than I had been seeing Leo. This unrequited love story had reached its final page. I wrote down my information, bowed my head slightly in thanks, and left. Back at my apartment, I felt hollowed out. I opened Twitter, hoping to find a clip of the interaction. I didn’t have to look far. The number one trending topic in the country was #LeoVanceSmiled. The top tweet, with over a million likes, was a video of the moment. The replies were a torrent of shock and awe. I’ve literally never seen him smile like that before. Not a press smile. A real one. He looks so… soft? I didn’t know he could do that. OMG AND HE KNOWS SIGN LANGUAGE?? To be inclusive of deaf fans? I’m dead. Officially deceased. That girl is going to remember that moment for the rest of her life. Okay but can we talk about how pretty the girl on the screen is?! She looks like a celebrity herself. They look so good together in the split screen! The chemistry is insane! I quietly saved the video and kept scrolling. Did you guys see?? He was professing his love for us, The Pride! It was a message to his real fans! This is the ultimate fan service! Best idol-fan relationship in the industry! We got the message, Leo! We love you too! More concerts please! I’m so jealous of everyone who got to be there for that confession!!! Then, the narrative shifted. Someone posted a grainy photo of the actress Isabelle Sterling at the concert. Fans who were there confirmed it, posting their own pictures of her. And then someone pointed out the most damning detail of all. Isabelle Sterling had been sitting in the row directly behind me. Even in a baseball cap and a mask, you could tell it was her. My heart plummeted. It felt like the floor had just dropped out from under me. He wasn’t smiling at me. He was looking past me, at her. A fan who understood ASL had translated his message: I saw the person I like. The internet detectives put two and two together. The person he liked had to be Isabelle Sterling. That night, #LeoAndIsabelle and #HollywoodsNewPowerCouple started trending. People dug for clues. They found Isabelle’s “finsta”—her private, friends-only Instagram account. And on it, she’d posted a picture from the concert. I clicked the link. It was a selfie she’d taken from her seat, with Leo visible on the stage in the background. The caption read: My superstar. Heard that little message loud and clear 😉 Her expression was one of pure adoration, the look of a girl completely in love. The comments from her friends were all knowing. Girl, you actually went! We need more content! SO CUTE. I’m crying, this is the sweetest thing ever. Isabelle had replied with a single blushing emoji, essentially confirming everything. That was it. The last bit of air left my lungs. 5 The rumors about them had been around for years. Isabelle Sterling was supposedly his childhood sweetheart. The story was that after Leo got famous, Isabelle, who came from a powerful Hollywood family, used her connections to get her first leading role just to be closer to him. They’d been photographed having dinner with each other’s parents. The tabloids had been speculating for years that they were secretly engaged. Isabelle’s finsta post seemed to be the final piece of the puzzle. At that moment, my stupid, hopeful heart finally gave up. I went to his official subreddit, a place I visited daily, and clicked “unfollow.” I used to read every post, every update. Sometimes, late at night, he’d even pop in and reply to a few fan comments. But with this firestorm online, Leo himself remained silent. Which felt like a confirmation. He was too bright, too far away. The only way to stop getting burned was to step out of his light completely. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and deleted Twitter and Instagram from my phone. I lay down on my bed, the silence in my apartment suddenly feeling heavy. Just as I was drifting off, my phone screen lit up with a notification. I picked it up, my eyes still blurry. I stared at the screen, unable to process what I was seeing. It was a friend request on a messaging app I barely used. From an unsaved number. Hey. It’s Leo Vance. You left something at the show.

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On my wedding day, I received an anonymous note claiming my fiancé, Julian Vance, was already married with a child back in his hometown. When I showed it to him, he just laughed it off. “Ancient history, Viv. A stupid high school promise. Someone’s clearly bored and trying to stir up trouble. Probably just jealous I’m marrying the daughter of a billionaire.” But on the day I gave birth, the sweet, limping caregiver I’d hired out of pity made sure both my baby and I never left that room alive. It was only after I died that I learned the truth. That caregiver was his small-town sweetheart, the mother of his son. After my death, they burned my memorial, orchestrated the downfall of my family, and seized every last cent of my inheritance. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day. 01 As consciousness returned, my first instinct was to shut my eyes tight. The phantom agony in my abdomen, the feeling of cold, metal forceps violating my body—it was all still there, a ghost haunting my senses. The sighs of the young intern echoed in my ears. “If they’d just gotten here five minutes sooner… It’s like they wanted to let her bleed out.” “Not just her. The baby suffocated.” “God, what a monster…” The voices faded, and the impossible truth settled in. I was alive. I had been reborn. “Vivian, there’s a letter for you!” The same envelope, the same handwriting. My head snapped toward the window. In a discreet corner of the garden, a woman with a noticeable limp was staring in, a lost look on her face. I snatched the envelope, grabbed my phone, and ran outside. With her limp, she couldn’t outrun me. She must have known it, because she simply stopped and waited, her expression a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. “You’re Vivian Lancaster, right?” Her face was delicate, a palm-sized portrait of fragility and strength. I held up the letter. “You wrote this, didn’t you?” She paused, then her voice became soft, pleading. “I just wanted to warn you. Julian has a wife and a son. You shouldn’t be the kind of person who destroys a family.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Oh, please. Save the performance for someone who’ll buy it, Hannah.” The name made her flinch. “You dared to come here and deliver this note, so why are you still playing the innocent victim?” In my past life, I fell for her act completely. She told me she was a single mother, forced to drop out of school, working as a caregiver to survive. She said her limp made it hard to find work. My heart broke for her, and I hired her on the spot, at double the standard rate. “Miss Lancaster, thank you, thank you so much for this chance,” she’d gushed, her gratitude seemingly endless. But when my labor began, Hannah showed me a video on her phone. It was her and Julian, my husband, tangled together. They had been carrying on an affair while I was suffering from morning sickness, sometimes in my own bedroom. The shock sent me into premature labor. Hannah kicked my phone out of my reach, her smile twisting into something demonic. “I told you, didn’t I? Julian has a wife and a son. You’re the one who ruined our happiness. You deserve to die!” she’d sneered. “What’s so great about being rich, Vivian? Once you’re dead, Julian inherits everything. We’ll finally have the money to be a real family.” 02 Staring at the Hannah in front of me now, I didn’t hide my disgust. I ripped the letter to shreds. “The wife you’re talking about is you. And the son? He’s the reason you dropped out of college three years ago, right?” Three years ago, Julian and I had already announced our engagement to the world. My voice was ice. “You stand there acting so self-righteous, but you’re the other woman.” She froze, then her voice rose, sharp and defensive. “No! I’m not! Julian and I have known each other since we were kids. First come, first served. Don’t you get it?” She glanced behind her at the sparkling, man-made lake, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Vivian, want to make a bet? If I were to jump into that lake right now, do you think Julian would still go through with marrying you?” I knew exactly what she was planning. She wanted to frame me. In my past life, when I was still blindly in love with Julian, I might have hesitated. But now? I couldn’t wait to be rid of him. I smiled, pocketing my phone. “Sure.” My voice was sweet. “I’d be happy to help.” Before Hannah could react, I grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the water’s edge. I knew this estate better than she did. Realization dawned on her face, and she began to struggle wildly. “No, wait! Stop!” But I’d been taking self-defense and boxing classes since I was a teenager. Hannah was no match for me. I shoved her toward the lake. As she scrambled to get her footing, I gave her one final, hard push. “Vivian, you’ll pay for this! Mmph… gurgle… gurgle…” Her delicate face was now smeared with mud, some of which had splattered onto my white wedding gown. I didn’t care. I wanted to hold her head under the water until the bubbles stopped, to repay her for everything. But I couldn’t. I had my parents to think about. I had this precious second chance. In the distance, a procession of cars approached. The lead car, a vintage Rolls-Royce decorated with my favorite lilies of the valley, screeched to a halt. Julian jumped out, his face a mask of panic. “Stop!” 03 I released my grip on Hannah. “Julian!” she cried out, triumphant. But before she could finish, her foot slipped on the muddy bank, and she tumbled back into the shallow water. Julian didn’t even glance at her. He rushed to my side, his hands gently wiping the specks of mud from my cheek. “Viv, your skin is so sensitive. This will make you break out.” His touch was soft, his eyes filled with a deep, unreadable emotion that I now knew was a lie. In my last life, I believed that look meant he loved me. I was a fool. The memory of my death surged back. As I lay on the floor, contractions wracking my body, a primal survival instinct took over. I had lunged, my fingers closing around Hannah’s throat. She wanted me dead, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight. She had clawed at my pregnant belly, her face turning purple. Then Julian had returned. Without a moment’s hesitation, he had pried my hands off her and thrown me aside. “I’m sorry, Viv. She’s the mother of my child.” He had locked me in the small bathroom while he took Hannah into my bedroom. The sounds that followed were the final nails in my coffin. The greatest sorrow is a dead heart. I looked at the man now fussing over my dress. “This is ruined, we can’t use it,” he murmured. “Good thing we bought backups. Why don’t you wear the mermaid gown? It’ll look stunning with the necklace you’re wearing.” I lifted my hand and slapped him across the face. Hard. The force of it made my own palm sting. “You bastard!” Hannah shrieked, trying to lunge at me, but Julian shoved her away without a second glance. He bent his head and gently kissed my stinging palm, then began to massage it with a technique he’d learned specifically for me. “Hit me all you want, honey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “But we still have a wedding to get to. Don’t make your husband look like a mess for the photos.” I pulled my hand back, switched to the other, and slapped his other cheek just as hard. Then I smoothed my dress and stood tall. “Julian, I want a divorce.” 04 The gentle, pleading smile vanished from Julian’s face. He glanced at Hannah, who was shivering from the cold, and took off his tuxedo jacket, draping it over her shoulders. Then he turned back to me. “Is this because of Hannah?” I clutched my phone, my voice steady. “You have a child with her, don’t you?” A small crowd of wedding guests had gathered, keeping a respectful distance. Julian nodded, completely unfazed. “I do.” “But he’s my son, Viv. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never have to see him. I’ll send Hannah and the boy back home. They’ll be out of your hair.” He took a step closer. “I promise you, we can have our own children. We can move past this. Okay?” I let out a bitter laugh. “You think this is about you doing me a favor?” My scorn finally cracked his composure. “Vivian, I’m trying to be reasonable here. The Lancaster Group isn’t what it used to be. Since your father’s illness, your family’s hold on the top spot has been shaky. Meanwhile, my company, Vance Innovations, is booming. Our marriage is more than just us.” He lowered his voice. “Besides, what man in our circle doesn’t have someone on the side? I’m even promising you she’ll be the only one. Think carefully, Vivian. Do you want to be Mrs. Vance, or do you want to have nothing?” Hannah, emboldened by his words, added her own pathetic plea. “Vivian, I’m just a woman with a limp. I’m not trying to compete with you. I just want a better life for my son. You don’t have children yet, so you probably can’t understand a mother’s heart.” Julian pulled her into a protective embrace, whispering reassurances. After a moment, he looked at me again. “It’s not just the child. Hannah’s leg… she was injured trying to help me years ago. I owe her.” He laid out his disgusting proposal. “Vivian, you can be Mrs. Vance in public, the face of our dynasty. Hannah can be in the background, taking care of the child. I know you two can get along.” Unbelievable. One minute he’s promising to get rid of them, the next he’s asking me to play happy families. I laughed, looking straight into his deceptively sincere eyes. “If she’s so precious to you, Julian, you should marry her. Make an honest woman of her. That way your son won’t be a bastard, and the whole world can applaud your tragic love story.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “Or what is it? You want her to have your children, but you’re ashamed she’s a cripple? You really want to have your cake and eat it too, don’t you?” “And you,” I said, turning to Hannah. “Did you not get the memo that we’re in the 21st century? Or are you just banking on your illegitimate son having a claim to the Lancaster fortune?” 05 My words hit their mark. Hannah’s face flushed with shame. Julian shielded her. “Vivian, we are legally married. If you continue to make a scene and disrespect our family like this, then divorce is the only option.” I nodded. “Good. I can’t wait.” Julian smiled, a cold, predatory gleam in his eyes. “According to the prenup we signed, if you file for divorce, I get fifteen percent of Lancaster Holdings.” I smiled back. “In your dreams.” “That clause only applies if you’re not the party at fault.” “You cheated on me and fathered a child. What grounds do you possibly have to take a single share of my family’s company?” Julian glanced at the distant crowd, then at the shredded letter in my hand. “But do you have any proof? As far as anyone can see, you were bullying a disabled woman, and I stepped in to defend her. You’re the one throwing a tantrum and demanding a divorce on our wedding day. Who do you think they’ll believe?” He looked down at me, smug and confident, as if that fifteen percent was already in his bank account. Hannah, full of self-satisfaction, chimed in. “Julian, once we get the shares, can we bring Andy back from overseas? He hates it there. He misses his daddy so much.” “Of course, baby,” Julian cooed. In my past life, Hannah had fed me a sob story about her son. “I was a single mom, I raised him all by myself,” she’d said. “I had to leave him with family back home so I could come here and work.” She’d even shown me photos of a sweet little boy whose face held a faint, familiar resemblance I couldn’t place. My heart, already soft with my own pregnancy, had ached for her. I gave her bonuses, extra time off to “visit her son,” never knowing she was flying to a private villa in Europe to meet Julian for their perfect family getaways. Now, here they were, already planning their bright future on the ashes of mine. But I was about to burn their little dream to the ground. I raised the phone I’d been holding, a smile playing on my lips. “Julian, did you forget?” “I told you I wanted the entire wedding live-streamed.” 06 His face went white. He lunged for my phone, but it was too late. The live chat was already a waterfall of outrage. OMG, the AUDACITY. The mistress showed up at the wedding! I feel so bad for Vivian. I really thought they were the real deal, a true power couple. Correction: SHE’S the power. He’s just a lucky gold-digger. He’d be nothing without Lancaster Holdings backing him. Julian’s face was a thundercloud. The comments were all true. If he hadn’t been my boyfriend, my father would never have given him the time of day, let alone the seed money for his startup. His peers from business school were still grinding away in middle management. Only Julian had become a self-made success story in three short years, all by leveraging our “fairytale romance” for capital and PR. He knew better than anyone how crucial his public image was. Just as furious was my mother. When the wedding was officially called off, she tore into Julian with a ferocity I’d rarely seen. My father was still recovering from a major surgery, and she didn’t dare tell him the news. “Your father was planning to retire this year,” she lamented, holding my hand. “We thought we could trust Julian to take over the company. How could he have been so deceitful!” She sighed, her face etched with worry. “With your father still weak, and me having never run the business… we need someone at the helm. Actually,” she brightened slightly, “I got a call from Mrs. Davenport yesterday. How about you meet her son? He’s a very capable young man.” I shook my head. “No.” “Mom, don’t worry,” I said, my voice firm. “I’ll take care of the company. I won’t let it fail.” She looked at me, her expression doubtful. “Absolutely not. The boardroom is full of sharks, Vivian. It’s a man’s world. You’re a young woman; they’ll eat you alive.” I didn’t get angry. I knew she loved me; her love was just shaped by a different generation’s fears. I squeezed her hand. “Mom, I can do this. Julian’s reputation is in ruins. This is the perfect time to crush Vance Innovations. And besides,” I added, a grim smile touching my lips, “no one on this earth knows his weaknesses better than I do.”

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After the Sinclair family finally acknowledged me, they forced me onto a reality show to be the villain in my perfect, counterfeit sister’s fairytale. They wanted me to be the train wreck, the backwoods cautionary tale that would make their “perfectly harmonious” family look even better. The first time around, I endured it. The result? A nationwide hate campaign that ended with me taking a long step off a short rooftop. This time, on the first day of filming, things would be different. Audrey, the girl who had stolen my life, cooed at me in that syrupy-sweet voice of hers. “Sloane, darling, you just got here from… wherever, so you might not know how things work. Daddy prefers a fresh pour-over in the morning. Why don’t you go get that started?” In front of the live-streaming cameras, I slapped her across the face. “You’re a cuckoo in the nest, an imposter. Who the hell do you think you are, giving me orders?” I looked down at her, my voice dropping to ice. “And don’t you dare call me sister. My mother only had one daughter.” The entire crew went silent. The internet, however, exploded. 1 The crack of the slap was sharp and clean, echoing through the cavernous living room. Audrey cupped her cheek, tears instantly welling in her wide, innocent eyes. She stared at me, a perfect portrait of disbelief. “Sloane… why did you hit me?” Her voice trembled, as if she’d just been dealt the cruelest blow imaginable. I gave a cold laugh and shook the sting from my hand. “Consider that a lesson in knowing your place.” “In the Sinclair family, I’m the root, and you’re the weed. And no matter how lush a weed grows, it always gets pulled for the root.” The camera was pointed right at us, capturing every raw, unfiltered second. The live-stream comments went into a frenzy. [HOLY S**T! The show just started and we’re already here? Is the real daughter always this intense?] [GOOD. I can’t stand that two-faced type. ‘Sister’ to your face, knife in your back.] [Um, what? Audrey was just trying to be helpful. That girl from the sticks is seriously unhinged.] [Get out of here with your high-and-mighty act. Did you not see the way she was ordering her around? Like she was the damn queen.] A dead silence had fallen over the living room. Behind the monitors, I could see the director rubbing his hands together, his eyes gleaming with delight. My dear mother, Catherine, was the first to snap out of it. She lunged forward, pulling Audrey behind her as she glared at me. “Sloane! What is wrong with you!” “You apologize to Audrey this instant!” I looked at her perfectly preserved, Botox-smooth face. It was the exact same expression she’d worn in my last life when she’d forced me to my knees to beg for forgiveness. Back then, I was terrified of her—terrified this mother who had abandoned me and then summoned me back would cast me out all over again. So I knelt. I apologized. All I got for it was more humiliation, more abuse, and an endless torrent of online vitriol. Now, all I felt was a hollow, bitter amusement. “Apologize?” I met her gaze, speaking each word with deliberate calm. “Could she even handle it?” “Catherine, you dumped me in the middle of nowhere and didn’t give me a second thought for eighteen years. You really think you have the right to teach me anything now?” “Go on, ask her. Ask the imposter who built her life on my mother’s pity why I, the actual daughter, should apologize to her.” The color drained from Catherine’s face. She never imagined I would air our dirty laundry on a live broadcast. “You… What are you talking about!” she stammered, her voice shrill with panic. “When did I ever abandon you! It was…” “It was what?” I stepped toward her, refusing to back down. “Was it the nanny who conveniently ‘lost’ me? Or did you spend eighteen agonizing years searching for me? Spare me the soap opera script. You don’t even believe your own lies.” My father, Richard Sinclair, shot to his feet, his face a thundercloud. “That’s enough, Sloane!” he boomed, his voice layered with the authority he was so used to wielding. “Don’t air our dirty laundry in public! Do you have to make a scene for the whole world to see?” “Go to your room! Now! And think about what you’ve done!” I laughed as if he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “Dirty laundry?” “Forcing me onto this pathetic show to be a prop for your fake daughter—that’s not dirty laundry?” “But the moment I fight back, it’s a family disgrace?” “Richard, is your hypocrisy really that shameless?” Richard was trembling with rage, pointing a finger at me, speechless. My brother, Ethan, who had been silent until now, walked over, his brow furrowed in disapproval. He grabbed my arm. “Sloane, stop it.” His tone was laced with reprimand. “Audrey is part of this family now. You just got here. You can’t be so hostile.” I ripped my arm from his grasp, staring at the brother I had once trusted more than anyone. This was the same brother who, while I was being torn apart by the entire internet, had posted a single, devastating tweet. “I only have one sister. Audrey.” That tweet was the final straw that broke me. “Hostile?” I smiled at him, a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Ethan, let’s get something straight. I am your sister. Your actual, biological sister.” “You wag your tail for a stranger while you bare your teeth at your own blood. What the hell does that make you?” “You’re not just blind, you’re a goddamn traitor.” Ethan’s face went from red to a blotchy purple. My entire family, silenced by one person. In the live stream, the comments were a waterfall. [My god, she’s the internet’s patron saint of clapbacks! She says EVERYTHING!] [YES! This is what I’m talking about! I live for watching these fake, sweet girls get what they deserve!] [This family is disgusting. They’re the ones who wronged her, but they act like she owes them something.] [I’m officially a fan. Sloane, destroy them all!] Audrey, hiding behind Catherine, was a sobbing, trembling mess. She peered at me with a look of pure venom, as if I were her mortal enemy. I knew this was just the beginning. The trial, broadcast live to the nation, had only just begun. 2 At dinner, the long table was laden with an immaculate spread. The Sinclairs all wore thunderous expressions, the silence so thick you could drown in it. I was the only one with an appetite. I methodically cracked open a lobster claw, completely ignoring the murderous glares being shot my way. In my past life, I wouldn’t have even dared to sit at this table. They told me I chewed with my mouth open, that I had no manners, that I should go back to my room and eat instant noodles. And I actually believed them, hiding in my room, crying with an empty stomach. Looking back, my own stupidity was pitiful. Audrey, her eyes red and puffy, picked at her rice, the very image of a heartbroken waif. Catherine placed a piece of abalone on her plate with a pained expression. “Audrey, darling, eat up. Don’t let… irrelevant people… ruin your appetite. It’s not worth making yourself sick.” The jab was obvious, her eyes flicking pointedly in my direction. I picked up a piece of sea bass, not even bothering to look up. “She’s right. It’s never worth getting angry over irrelevant people.” “Take me, for example. I never waste my energy on imposters who steal other people’s lives. Or on family members who are both blind and heartless.” “After all, you can’t reason with animals.” “Pfft—” Ethan choked, spraying a mouthful of soup. “Sloane! Can you not be so vile!” I set down my chopsticks and dabbed my lips with a napkin. “No.” “I was raised in the sticks, remember? No manners. Not like you high-society types who have to bury every sentence under three layers of subtext. Isn’t that exhausting?” “Speaking your mind. That’s what good kids do.” Richard slammed his hand on the table. “Insolent!” he roared. “Have you no respect for the rules of this house!” I picked up the crystal fruit bowl from the center of the table. It was filled with freshly washed cherries, glistening like dark jewels. I walked over to Catherine and tipped the entire bowl over her perfectly coiffed hair. “Rules?” “You want to talk to me about rules?” “What rules were you following when you threw me away?” Cold juice and sticky cherries trickled down Catherine’s hair and neck, staining her silk blouse. Red fruit rolled across the marble floor. She froze, a statue of desecrated dignity. Audrey shrieked. “Mom!” Ethan and Richard shot to their feet, their faces masks of stunned horror. “Sloane, you’re insane!” Ethan lunged for me. I sidestepped him easily, a cold satisfaction spreading through my chest as I took in Catherine’s wretched state. “If you want fruit, wash it yourself. Are your hands broken?” “Oh, right. Those hands were busy abandoning your own daughter, and now they’re busy waiting on a fake one. I guess you are pretty busy.” The shock finally wore off. Catherine began to tremble violently, pointing a shaking finger at me, her lips quivering. “You… You monster!” “I don’t have a daughter like you!” “Good,” I said with a brilliant smile. “In that case, let’s quit this ridiculous show and go cut ties officially.” “You can pay me the eighteen years of child support you owe, plus damages for pain and suffering, and of course, the shares of the Sinclair company that are rightfully mine. Settle it all in one lump sum.” “Then we can go our separate ways and never see each other again.” “Do you dare?” Catherine was trapped, speechless. Richard, apoplectic, pointed at the door. “Get out! Get out of this house right now!” “This show is over! We’re not filming anymore!” I crossed my arms, watching him with detached amusement. “Fine by me.” “The contract is crystal clear. Unilateral termination comes with a penalty of one hundred million dollars.” “So, Richard… are you writing the check?” One hundred million. It wouldn’t bankrupt them, but it would cripple them. More importantly, pulling out now would be a public admission of guilt. Richard’s face cycled through an impressive spectrum of red, purple, and finally, a mottled gray. He looked like he wanted to swallow me whole. All I did was offer him an innocent smile. You want me to leave? It’s not going to be that easy. I haven’t seen nearly enough of this show yet. 3 In the end, the Sinclairs didn’t dare to break the contract. Faced with a one-hundred-million-dollar penalty or becoming a national laughingstock, they chose the latter. Perhaps they thought that with the right PR spin, they could salvage their reputation. Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t going to give them the chance. The producers, smelling blood in the water, arranged a “Heartwarming Family Moment” segment. Each family was to present an item of profound personal significance. The Sinclairs brought out a diamond necklace, so brilliant it seemed to radiate its own light. Audrey wore it as she sat beside Catherine, her smile a perfect blend of sweetness and shy pride. The host began, his voice dripping with emotion. “This is the ‘Angel’s Tear,’ a necklace Mrs. Sinclair acquired at auction for Audrey’s eighteenth birthday. It represents a mother’s purest love for her daughter.” Catherine lovingly stroked Audrey’s hair. “Audrey is my little angel. This necklace was simply destined for her.” The performance of mother-daughter devotion was truly touching. In the live comments, Audrey’s fans went wild. [I’m crying, this is so beautiful. The love between Audrey and her mom is so real.] [This is what a real high-society family looks like. Some people could learn a thing or two.] [The Angel’s Tear for an angel like Audrey. Perfect!] I stared at the necklace on the screen, a familiar ache tightening in my chest. What a coincidence. I had one too. As all eyes were on me, I slowly reached into my shirt and pulled out another necklace. It was an exact replica of Audrey’s, except the brilliant diamond was replaced with a cheap rhinestone, and the chain was a tarnished alloy that had long since lost its shine. Under the bright studio lights, it looked pathetic and laughable. The host paused, clearly thrown by this unexpected turn. “Sloane, that necklace…?” I rubbed the fake diamond between my fingers, my voice quiet but captured perfectly by the microphone. “Oh, this?” “It was the only thing I had on me when my mother left me behind.” “I was only three. I don’t remember anything else, but I remember clutching this necklace so tightly, thinking that it was my mother.” “It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized it was worthless. You can buy them at a street stall for five dollars.” I lifted my head, my gaze falling on the ashen faces of Catherine and Audrey. “I never imagined my mother would turn around and buy an identical one for my ‘sister.’ A real one, this time.” “I guess there are different kinds of motherly love.” “One worth five dollars, one worth millions.” I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Truly a mother’s love is a powerful thing.” The entire studio was silent. The camera operator, a true professional, zoomed in on the blood draining from Catherine’s and Audrey’s faces. Beneath the table, Richard’s hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. The live chat, after three seconds of stunned silence, absolutely erupted. [OH. MY. GOD. What is this plot twist?!] [I’m going to be sick. That whole mother-daughter act was so touching a second ago, now it just feels disgusting and fake.] [My heart breaks for Sloane. She held onto that cheap necklace for eighteen years thinking it was a symbol of her mother’s love, and it was all just a joke.] [Catherine is not human! And Audrey is no better! How could she wear that, knowing its history? Doesn’t it feel like a noose?] Audrey began to tremble, her hand instinctively going to the necklace at her throat. Catherine grabbed her wrist, forcing a serene, composed expression onto her face as she addressed the camera. “No, no, everyone has misunderstood!” “I… I just missed Sloane so much, so I… I had a replica made. To remember her by…” She didn’t even sound like she believed her own lie. I let out a short, sharp laugh. “To remember me by?” “Then when you saw the real thing—me—standing right in front of you, why wasn’t there a flicker of affection? Is it more satisfying to cry over a fake?” “Catherine, you might be able to fool them, but you can’t fool me.” “Eighteen years. Was there a single phone call? A single letter?” “No.” “You were just contentedly living your life with your ‘daughter,’ while I was left to fend for myself in a place you’d rather forget.” Richard finally snapped. He shot to his feet, pointing at me. “Sloane! Shut your mouth!” “Don’t disrupt the show with these lies!” I met his furious gaze without flinching. “Lies?” “Then why don’t you explain this, Richard? Why is it that on the official records for your ‘lost’ biological daughter, the legal designation isn’t ‘missing,’ but ‘abandoned’?” “That word, ‘abandoned.’ You signed the papers yourself, didn’t you?” Richard’s pupils contracted. He never thought I’d know about that. That’s right. The first thing I did after being brought back to the Sinclair fold was get a copy of my own records. There it was, in black and white. I, Sloane Sinclair, was officially abandoned. Not the poor, unfortunate soul who was “accidentally lost.” That truth hit the live broadcast like a bomb. The entire internet was in an uproar.

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