Category: English

My mother was the villain of the story, but by the time I was born, the story was already over. The life of champagne brunches and Fifth Avenue sprees was gone, and the debutante who once graced magazine covers had become a social pariah. She’d been betrayed by my father, the hero of the story, and her family’s fortune had vanished overnight. A pampered princess who had never worked a day in her life, she had to learn everything from scratch. For me. 1 The nurses told me later that my mother, Genevieve, didn’t even know she was pregnant. She just thought she was getting fat. The truth hit her the day her family’s bankruptcy was announced. Every credit card was declined, every account frozen. The only cash she had to her name was twenty thousand dollars, tucked away in a savings bond a great-aunt had given her for her sixteenth birthday—a sum she’d once found so laughably small she’d never bothered to touch it. She was staring at that number on her banking app when the first contraction seized her, a pain so sharp it sent her straight to the hospital. And then, there I was. Even then, in the midst of ruin, she insisted on a private VIP suite, refusing to be wheeled into a standard maternity ward. Just like that, her balance lost a zero. She had two thousand dollars left. I arrived without an invitation. The first time she saw me, she just stared, baffled. A child had never been part of her plan, not even when she was deepest in love with my father. She needed too much love herself, the kind of all-consuming love only he could give, and it was meant for her alone. They had made a promise as children, a secret whispered between them. “Ethan’s heart is for Genevieve, and Genevieve alone.” For a long time, it was true. His love was a fortress built only for her. At eighteen, Ethan told her, “I love you. Only you.” He honored that childhood vow, and to everyone who knew them, Ethan belonged to Genevieve. When she grew possessive, their friends would just laugh it off. “The princess guards her treasures,” they’d tease. And at eighteen, Ethan found her possessiveness sweet. It felt like a green apple lollipop, a slow, perfect dissolve in his heart. He’d blush, wave goodbye to his friends, and run straight back to her arms, back to his happiness. But at twenty-four, her possessiveness was a cage. It was like a piece of sour candy that never turned sweet, an acrid lump he couldn’t swallow, filling his mouth with a dull, persistent ache. His friends weren’t teasing anymore; they were mocking him for being whipped. The frantic ring of his phone became a Pavlovian signal, a lead weight dropping in his stomach. When a repressed heart can’t find a door, it breaks open a window. So he started an affair. He knew it was a betrayal, a violation of everything they were, so he hid it. At first, the guilt was a heavy counterweight on the scales, but the stolen moments of joy, the secret thrills, began to pile up until the balance tipped irrevocably. When the lies finally shattered, the explosion was ugly. They screamed, they clawed at each other, turning their pristine Upper East Side apartment into a war zone. They ended it with a vow to never see each other again. They had just finalized their divorce last month. As the story’s villain, my mother’s love was a thing of fierce, paranoid obsession. The slightest dip in my father’s affection sent her spiraling. Three scheduled calls a day. Every outfit he wore, she had to approve. Home by seven p.m., no exceptions. But even with her standing guard, my father slipped through her fingers like a handful of sand, blown into the arms of another woman. It started with small things. A single strand of auburn hair on his blazer, a color that wasn’t hers. A cloyingly sweet perfume clinging to his collar that she didn’t recognize. The first crack appeared when she confronted him, her voice cold. “You smell.” It was a cheap, saccharine scent that made her head ache. To hide his guilt, he stripped off his jacket, feigning indifference. “I was at a department store. Must have brushed past someone.” Then it was a delicate silk scarf the housekeeper found in his coat pocket. A scarf that wasn’t hers. Then came the way he deliberately turned his back to her in bed, the way his eyes would drift away when they hugged. Genevieve couldn’t ignore the signs. She hired a private investigator. The photos arrived in a manila envelope. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. He had cheated on her with the one person she despised most in the world. Maybe it was a villain’s intuition. From the very first time she’d met this woman, a deep, primal dislike had taken root. She was my mother’s opposite in every way. And now, in these glossy photographs, the man everyone saw as the perfect husband—the man who had sworn he loved only her—was holding this woman’s hand in broad daylight, kissing her on a park bench during his lunch hour. They moved together with an ease that spoke of years, not stolen moments. Just a year ago, Ethan had laid in bed with her, whispering about how much they both disliked this woman, how she was a professional victim, a master manipulator. Now, in a twist of cruel irony, that same woman was his lover. The third person in their marriage. My mother, in a desperate attempt to save her marriage, tried to talk to her. The woman refused. The second time, my mother went to her office building, waiting for hours in the lobby. She finally saw her, coming down in the elevator, tucked securely under my father’s arm. The moment Ethan saw my mother, his first instinct was to shield the other woman behind him. The sight was so absurd, Genevieve laughed. A hollow, brittle sound. “Ethan,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “Aren’t you going to offer an explanation?” He ignored her, whispering something to the girl and sending her away in a cab. Once she was gone, he turned back, trying to take my mother’s hand. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t even try to lie. He just kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” over and over, even slapping his own face. Then he sank to his knees on the pavement, begging her not to divorce him. My mother stared at him for a long time before turning and walking back into their building. He expected divorce papers the next morning. Instead, she forgave him. “We can stay married,” she told him, her voice devoid of emotion. “But you have to promise me you will never see her again.” Then the tables turned. The other woman started showing up, trying to confront my mother, who refused to see her. Finally, she came to our apartment, waiting for Ethan. He saw his lover looking so lost and pathetic, and the sight broke his heart. He took her with him when he left. He didn’t come home for a month. When he finally returned, a cold, relentless rain was falling. He pushed open the door, bringing the storm in with him. Genevieve thought he was back for good, that he’d finally realized his mistake. But then he threw a stack of photos at her. The sharp corner of one cut her cheek. The dream shattered. He wasn’t here to reconcile. He was here to condemn her. “God, you’re disgusting, Genevieve,” he spat, his voice dripping with revulsion. “Every day you become more and more pathetic. Just looking at your face makes me sick. How can you be so venomous?” “You knew how important that charity gala was for Isabella. You knew it, and you still had your friends ice her out. Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights she put into organizing that event?” “Are you even human? Can’t you stand to see anyone else succeed?” Genevieve froze. She couldn’t comprehend that the man she had loved her entire life was screaming at her like this, for a stranger. In an instant, a dam of grief and betrayal broke inside her. “Yes! I can’t stand to see her happy!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “Why should she be? Why does a woman who destroys a family get to have a better life? Why don’t you ask me about my sleepless nights? The nights I spent crying over you? The nights I stayed up helping you build your career?” “What right does she have? Tell me, Ethan, what right does she have?” Her roar dissolved into a desperate, wracking sob. She clawed at her own hair, her body doubling over as if in physical pain. The cold rainwater from his coat dripped down her back, extinguishing the last embers of warmth inside her. Ethan just watched her, his expression cold. He thought, This feels so familiar. There was a time when her tears would have shattered his heart. Now, all he felt was a desperate urge to escape. “Let’s get a divorce,” he said. Her mind went blank. She slapped him, hard, across the face. Ethan was stunned. “A divorce?” she whispered, her voice trembling with rage. “How dare you say that. We’re in this mess because of you.” “I don’t understand. When other couples have problems, they work to fix the problem. But you… you decided to fix the problem by getting rid of me! By cheating on me!” He’d had enough. They had never been good at backing down. He grabbed her arm and dragged her in front of the ornate, full-length mirror in the foyer. “What about you?” he snarled. “Have you taken a good look at yourself lately?” They both stared at the reflection. At the woman in the mirror. Her hair was a wild halo, a thin, red line traced a path down her cheek, and her eyes were red-rimmed and vacant, haunted by a grief and fury that twisted her features. She looked at herself, dazed. She remembered the day they got married, the first time they stood before this very mirror. They were both smiling then. Now, one face was etched with disgust, the other with rage. Suddenly, fighting for the marriage felt meaningless. The love was gone. And she had never been one to settle for a life without it. At the lawyer’s office, she stared at the signed divorce agreement for a long time. The paralegal asked if there was a problem. “After so many years,” she murmured, more to herself than to him, “we should at least say a proper goodbye.” She gathered the papers, stood up, and spoke with a weariness that seemed to settle in her bones. “I hope we never see each other again.” A month later, the news broke. The family fortune was gone. Genevieve was broke. She found out while she was packing up her life. The apartment was co-owned, but there was no reason to stay. When she drove back to her family’s mansion, she found it empty. A hollow shell. She never imagined that in the midst of losing everything, she would gain a child. She had lost her world, but she had been given me. I was like a fast-forward button on the VCR of her life, instantly splicing it into two distinct parts: Before, and After. It was sudden, but she accepted it. She accepted me. Then came the brutal realization that she could barely take care of herself, let alone a newborn. She had no idea a cab from her old penthouse to the hospital cost twelve dollars. She didn’t know that the gourmet meals she used to order on a whim now cost more than she had to her name. She still had the instincts of a rich girl, wanting only the best of everything. She was forced to learn how to survive. Forced to learn how to be a mother. She’d never wanted a child, but she seemed to adore me. She held me constantly, nuzzling her cheek against mine, her fingers gently tracing my tiny hands as she whispered to me. When the nurses cared for me, she would watch from the side, awkwardly trying to mimic their movements. The trashy novels on her phone were replaced with articles on parenting and infant care. More often than not, she’d fall asleep with the phone still in her hand. I loved to watch her sleep. She looked like the climbing roses outside the window, swaying softly in the breeze, peaceful and beautiful. When I slept, she would pat my back gently. She whispered to the nurse one afternoon, asking what kind of formula was best for a small baby like me. The nurse whispered back, “You could try this one. Your baby is so little. She seems like she didn’t get enough nourishment in the womb.” My mother looked at the price tag, then at me, blowing bubbles in my bassinet. Her face was a canvas of conflict. Finally, she gritted her teeth and bought a whole case. After that purchase, her bank account lost another zero. She had two hundred dollars left. I was well cared for at the hospital, but I slept almost constantly. A heaviness in my chest was a constant companion. My mother didn’t notice anything was wrong. She just called me her little pearl, sleeping twenty-four hours a day. Then the nurses ran a full panel of tests. The doctor told her I had a congenital heart defect. It was unlikely I would live to see adulthood. For days after the diagnosis, my mother just held me and cried. She was still recovering from childbirth, and the doctor warned her that the constant crying wasn’t good for her. He asked about the baby’s father. She just wept, unable to answer. Her life had been cleaved in two. The first twenty years were a gilded haze. Then, as if fate had grown tired of her easy life, it had thrown her into motherhood completely unprepared. And as if that wasn’t cruel enough, it twisted the knife. The head nurse was a kind woman who looked at my mother with a mixture of pity and frustration. “What kind of man did this to such a lovely girl?” she’d mutter. “Some things, you just have to let go,” she told my mother, patting her back. “In the face of life and death, most things don’t matter.” They even brought in a therapist to screen her for postpartum depression. The nurse would often sigh when she looked at me. She told my mother later that at first, she’d disliked her, thinking she was a terrible, self-absorbed mother. But then, she pitied her. “She looked like a new bud on a rosebush,” the nurse said. “So fragile that a single storm could knock her from the branch.” She saw women like my mother every year. Maybe it was because I was a quiet, cute baby, but the nurse took a special interest in me. She couldn’t bear the thought of me ending up an orphan. But no amount of pity could pay the mounting medical bills. They were crushing her. She had once fought desperately for a love she couldn’t save, debasing herself, throwing her family’s money at the problem, humiliating herself by throwing a glass of wine on the other woman at a public event. All she had ever wanted, since she was a little girl, was for someone to pick her up when she fell instead of laughing at her. And for her whole life, Ethan was the only one who ever had. Her own parents, exhausted by their miserable marriage, had no energy left for a child. So she grew up spoiled, arrogant, and rude, with no one to guide her. People bowed to her status, her money. Without that armor, she was just what the nurse saw: a fragile bud on a branch, about to be snapped by the wind. She knew this, but she didn’t know how to be any different. She had tried to hold onto the one piece of love she’d ever known with a grip so tight, she’d strangled it. In the end, she was left with nothing. … Taking a deep breath, she started calling the people she once thought were her friends. The calls either went straight to voicemail or were answered with a string of curses. She hesitated for a long time before making the last call. “Hello?” the voice on the other end answered. “Lindsey? It’s me.” “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Genevieve herself.” The voice was slick with sarcasm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “Are you calling to borrow money? How much do you need?” My mother named a figure. Before she could finish, a sharp, ugly laugh cut her off. “You’re the great debutante, aren’t you? A wave of your hand used to be worth millions. Why are you calling a nobody like me for a few thousand dollars?” “I have the money,” Lindsey continued, her voice dripping with malice. “But I have a hard time believing you’ll be able to pay it back. Tell you what. Bark like a dog for me a few times. Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll lend it to you.” Laughter erupted in the background. They weren’t just mocking her; they were making a spectacle of her fall. But this time, my mother didn’t hang up. Her voice was quiet. “Wasn’t I good to you?” The laughter on the other end stopped cold. “Yes, you were good to me,” Lindsey said, her voice turning hard and bitter. “But you owed me. You owed me for being born with everything I’ll never have. For years, I prayed for this day. I dreamed of you losing everything.” “And now that it’s happened, I couldn’t be happier. In fact, my friends and I are celebrating right now. Celebrating that you’ve finally fallen. Welcome to the real world. Welcome to being one of us.” My mother didn’t hear the rest. She let the phone slip from her ear and sat down slowly next to my bassinet, her hand gently stroking my blanket. She thought about the people who used to surround her. Even at her worst, she’d had a court of admirers. Some offered clumsy flattery, others subtle favors. Lindsey had been her favorite. She had seemed different. She cared, she didn’t just enable. She treated everyone as an equal, scorning the arrogance of the rich and the bitterness of the poor. She had prepared notes for my mother before exams, telling her not to cheat. She would give her a cold look when she did something wrong and patiently try to guide her. She had felt like family. But now, without the money and the status, she was just another stranger, another voice in the chorus of mockery and scorn. My mother finally ended the call. From her meager pile of belongings, she took a designer scarf and tossed it in the trash. As the payment reminders from the hospital flooded her phone, she finally dialed the number she’d been avoiding. First, she heard a cacophony of voices, men and women laughing. Then, his voice, familiar and distant. “Hello?” Before, she would have chirped his name, “Ethan!” Now, she could only manage a stilted, formal reply. “Ethan. It’s me.” Her voice was slow, stiff. “Can you… can you lend me some money?” More laughter crackled through the line, then the sound of rustling fabric. “Hey, stop it, hahaha…” His voice came back to the phone. “What did you say?” Just that one sentence, and all her courage evaporated. They had ended things so badly, screamed things at each other they could never take back. Ethan had once been a blazing sun in her world. Even if his light couldn’t reach the darkest corners of her heart, it had offered a fleeting warmth. She didn’t realize that the moment the divorce papers were signed, their entire past would be erased. With no other choice, she turned to the only person she had left: her mother, my grandmother, who lived in the South. My grandmother was Genevieve’s birth mother. She had divorced my grandfather when my mother was eighteen. Years of a miserable marriage had turned her hair white and put her on a steady diet of antidepressants. When my mother was a child, my grandmother lived in a single room in their mansion. She never went out, never spoke, just stared for hours at the white curtains. Once, when my mother was little, she went to see her. She found her trying to swallow a handful of white pills. The pills clogged her throat. The moment she saw my mother, she retched, and the pills scattered across the floor like tiny white seeds. A maid rushed in. “Ma’am, you can’t take so many of these! If you can’t sleep, I’ll warm you some milk. Maybe that will help.” My grandmother just stared blankly at the pills on the floor. After a long moment, she shook her head. My mother walked over and took her hand. She was too young to understand depression; she only knew her mommy was sick. My grandmother didn’t seem to notice her, her gaze fixed on something far away. After that, my mother never opened that door again. Her mother was like a porcelain doll, beautiful and empty. Sometimes she would pause outside the door, but it was always silent inside, as if no one lived there at all. Then, one day shortly after my mother turned eighteen, the door that had been closed for years finally opened. A woman so pale she was almost translucent emerged. It was her mother. A maid followed with her suitcases. She was leaving for good. She didn’t even look at my mother as she walked out. It was as if she had never given birth to her at all. And now, this was the only person she could turn to. Her father and stepmother had fled the country as soon as the bankruptcy hit, leaving her behind. My mother spent the last of her money on a Greyhound bus ticket. She had never been on a bus like this. It was crammed with luggage and trash, making it impossible to move. The seats were worn and the fabric felt greasy.

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My love, on her journey to resurrect me, fell in love with someone else. When I woke up, Seraphina asked me what I wanted. I was about to say I wanted to finally have the wedding we never got to finish. But in that instant, lines of text began to scroll through my vision. **”The FL is so devoted. She became the freaking Celestial Queen and still didn’t forget to resurrect her mortal sidekick.”** **”Seriously, this sidekick has no shame. He just got brought back and he’s already demanding things. Our ML is the one who fought and bled beside her for a million years!”** **”Whatever. He’ll just get taken back to the Celestial Realm, cause a bunch of drama, and get cast aside. That’s when the FL will realize our ML is her true love!”** I considered this. Then I looked at her and said, “I want a separation.” 1 Seraphina froze. She looked almost exactly as she had before I died. Even more beautiful, more radiant. “Rhys,” she said, her voice trembling with disbelief, “are you joking?” **”A toxic, competitive guy like him wants a separation? This makes no sense!”** **”This old man is obviously using a separation to manipulate her. What a tool! I can’t believe the author wrote such a trash character!”** **”Just wait, our ML is about to show up with the kid. Get ready for the sidekick to get put in his place!”** The words floating before my eyes were vile. According to them, I was seeing the live-chat comments for a fantasy romance epic titled *The Celestial Queen’s Rebellious Love*. Seraphina was the female lead, the “FL.” A prodigy of immense talent, aloof and proud. In order to save her “white moonlight” husband—the first love who died shielding her from a divine trial—she embarked on a long, arduous journey to attain godhood. That husband was me. On her journey, she met Kael, the “ML”—the male lead—a roguish half-demon, half-celestial. They were rivals at first, then friends, supporting each other and growing stronger together over the course of nearly a million years. Kael confessed his love for her many times, but Seraphina always refused, holding my memory in her heart. Until one day, facing a trial she couldn’t overcome, she joined with Kael. United their essence. And conceived a child. Twice. The first was a son. She was now pregnant with their daughter. And me? According to the “plot,” after my resurrection, my personality would warp. I would become consumed with jealousy, constantly fighting with Kael for Seraphina’s affection. I would even try to frame him for crimes, leading to a confrontation so stressful that Seraphina would miscarry. Filled with hatred for me, she would finally strike me down during one of my jealous fits. A single blast of crimson light. And I would be annihilated, body and soul. What a joke. 2 “Sera! Rhys must still be dazed from his long sleep. He’s only human, after all. His mortal flesh is weak. Why don’t we let him rest in the Celestial Realm for a while?” A man in flowing green robes descended from the clouds, a miniature version of himself standing beside him. “Mama Sera! Hug!” The little boy, a half-eaten candied fruit in his hand, launched himself at Seraphina. “Kael, you little troublemaker. I thought we agreed no more sweets for Leo while he’s teething.” The moment before, Seraphina had been clutching my hand. Now, she instinctively scooped the boy into her arms. **”There it is! The pet names! ‘Sera’ and ‘Trouble’! Even their son Leo calls her that! The FL is the Celestial Queen and she still lets her man and kid call her silly names. This family is so cute I could die!”** **”Is someone feeling a little… extra right now? I won’t name names.”** **”Our ML is too kind, offering to let the sidekick stay in the heavens! My poor baby doesn’t know what’s coming.”** I bit my lip and tried to get her attention. “Seraphina.” No response. She was too busy flirting with Kael. I said it louder. “Seraphina!” That finally broke the spell. She put the child down and knelt before me on one knee. She pulled a small, ornate box from her robes, a shy expression on her face that I hadn’t seen since we were teenagers. “Rhys, I’m sorry. It’s… it’s been a very long time since anyone has called me that. Let me introduce you. This is Kael, my companion on my journey. When he said your mortal flesh was weak, he wasn’t insulting you. He just meant that the human body is fragile.” She leaned closer, her voice a whisper. “So… tonight, I will personally transfer my essence to you. You’ll become an immortal, just like me. And we’ll never have to be apart again.” I pointed at the man and his son. “You have his child, you carry his baby, and you stand in front of him and tell me *we’ll* never be apart?” As expected, Kael’s eyes welled with tears. The little boy started punching my leg. “You mean man! You made my daddy cry! Say you’re sorry!” **”This sidekick pretending to be the innocent victim. Ugh. It’s okay, Kael baby, don’t cry.”** **”If he wants a separation so badly, he can just leave. Jump through the Sundering Gate and you’re back in the mortal world.”** **”He’s just bluffing. The loser would never give up the luxury of the Celestial Realm and the temptation of eternal life.”** I turned to leave, but Seraphina’s hand shot out, grabbing my arm. At the same time, she grabbed Kael’s, who had also made a move to leave. “Rhys, where are you going?” “To the Sundering Gate. I told you, my wish is to separate from you.” She frowned, completely bewildered. “Just because Kael and I have children? Are you really that petty?” Am I petty? My wife fell in love with another man while she was supposed to be saving me. Am I not allowed to be angry? “Let me go.” I didn’t want to become the monster described in those floating words. Leaving was my only option. And she did let go. She let go of Kael’s hand, stepped behind me, and wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace. “My only goal on this entire journey was to bring you back,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Without you, nothing I’ve done has any meaning.” My own eyes started to burn. We were childhood sweethearts. Maybe I should trust the Seraphina I knew. Not these strange, cruel words. 3 “Mama! Daddy doesn’t look so good!” Kael was clutching his stomach, his face pale and contorted in pain. Seraphina immediately let go of me and rushed to his side, channeling her power into him to calm the chaotic energy in his core. Kael sagged against her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She didn’t push him away, simply supporting his weight. “Kael gave me a third of his life force a few days ago to help me nurture the baby,” she explained, not looking at me. “I need to help him stabilize his power. Rhys, I’ll be right back.” He was injured for the sake of their child. She, as the child’s mother, was taking care of him. It made sense. It was logical. But a selfish part of me couldn’t help but think: *If I hadn’t died, we would have had children. We would have been a normal, happy couple.* “Rhys, it’s incredibly difficult for celestials to have children. Kael is just… my partner in this. We are not in love. Don’t overthink it.” My fingernails dug into my palms. I swallowed the resentment and forced myself to say, “Okay.” 4 Seraphina was still worried I’d jump from the Sundering Gate. She had me confined to a lavish palace, guarded by hundreds of celestial soldiers. The servants were forbidden to speak to me. I had no way of finding the Gate. I had no idea how much time was passing. **”Phew, that was close. Good thing the sidekick didn’t do anything stupid. Sera gave birth to a healthy baby girl! The FL says she looks just like she did as a baby!”** **”Has anyone noticed the sidekick looks… older since he’s been locked up?”** **”A day in the heavens is a year on earth. The FL has been with Kael for his ‘post-partum’ recovery for fifteen days. That means the sidekick is a 30-year-old man now.”** Thirty. An old man? Seraphina and Kael were a million years old, and they still looked like they were in their early twenties. I looked in the mirror. Fine lines were beginning to creep around my eyes. My skin was sallow. I was aging. One day, two days, ten days. I started to miss my parents. My family. I never got to see my father’s hair turn grey, or my mother’s face grow old. I never brought honor to our family name. Back then, my entire world revolved around Seraphina. When she needed a sacred vessel forged for her ascension, our family were the only artisans in the region who could do it. But no one believed that she, an orphan everyone considered bad luck, could ever become a god. So I knelt in our ancestral hall. I begged my parents, my elders. I kowtowed until my forehead was bleeding. The only condition they gave was that she marry into our family. On our wedding night, the heavens roared. A divine trial descended. I threw myself in front of her, taking the lightning strike that was meant for her. With my death, she broke through to the next stage of her power, becoming the strongest mortal alive. My parents, my family… how much pain must they have felt, seeing me die? To give up your life for a woman… was it worth it? Back then, I didn’t understand. I thought a young man’s love could conquer anything. I couldn’t just wither away and die here. I had to go home. I owed my family an explanation. 5 “Rhys, are you still angry?” Seraphina’s voice was right behind me. I turned, and there she was, bathed in a holy light, more radiant than ever. And I… I was shriveling up. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. “Rhys, I had a daughter. She looks just like I did when I was born.” **”The Queen’s memory is insane. She remembers what she looked like as a newborn.”** She sighed. “Rhys, will you call me by my full name again? Like you used to?” I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. “Do you remember when we were kids?” she murmured. “You used to fight off all the other boys who bullied me. You’d get into wrestling matches with a whole group of them, and you’d come back covered in bruises and mud. But you always won. You’d win all their marbles, and we’d sell them at the market and buy honey cakes until our stomachs hurt, and we’d lie on the flat rocks by the river and watch the moon.” How could I forget? Under that moonlight, a tiny Seraphina had puffed out her chest and proposed to me. “I, Seraphina, will marry Rhys in ten years!” she had declared. “I’ll never change my mind! For my whole life, and all my other lives! I’ll only ever love Rhys! The stars are my witness! And if I break this promise…” She’d paused, scratching her head. I’d been laughing so hard I fell over. “…then I’ll never get to eat honey cakes again!” For a five-year-old girl and a six-year-old boy, there was no imaginable punishment more severe. “Rhys, I’ll give you half of my power. You won’t get old anymore. Please, don’t be angry anymore, okay?” The lights in the room suddenly went out. My robes were being untied. With her power, she had moved us to the bed. I closed my eyes. The chat reappeared. **”Oh no, oh no, the FL is about to get tainted!”** **”My poor ML, all alone with their two kids! Author, can you please stop torturing him!”** **”See? I knew it. The sidekick couldn’t stand getting old. All that talk about leaving and jumping from the Sundering Gate was just an act. So fake.”** A bitter anger welled up inside me. A normal mortal man, cast out of heaven with nothing… how was I supposed to survive in a world teeming with gods and monsters? How was I supposed to find my family, who had likely been reincarnated countless times? If Seraphina was willing to give me her power, why shouldn’t I use it? 6 The next morning, my youth was restored. A strange, powerful energy coiled in my core. Her power. Seraphina was still asleep, her body curled against mine, trapping me. I tried to shift. “Kael… stop it…” she mumbled in her sleep. In the heat of passion, she had told me a thousand times that she loved me, only me. But now, in her most unguarded moment, she was dreaming of him. **”The sidekick should open his eyes and see! Subconsciously, the FL loves our ML the most!”** **”The sidekick was with her for fifteen years. Our Kael was with her for a million. It’s obvious who she truly loves.”** **”The sidekick thought he could die and become her unforgettable first love, then come back and win her heart. Too bad. The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. This forbidden love is so thrilling!”** **”When is this loser finally going to jump from the Sundering Gate? I can’t take it anymore.”** I shook my head, trying to clear the words, but they wouldn’t go away. So I stopped pretending. “Alright,” I said to the empty room. “If you’re so smart, tell me where the Sundering Gate is.” 7 The chat exploded. They didn’t seem to know I could see them. **”Is he talking to us?”** **”Is the sidekick crazy? Or am I crazy? How can he see the chat?”** **”Sidekick, if you can see this, make a heart shape with your hands.”** A heart shape? What did that mean? I didn’t understand, but I placed my hand over my heart. “Like this?” The chat went silent for a moment. Then the messages came in a flood. **”You guys, type slower! I can’t read anything!”** My head started to throb. **”Wait, so he saw all the mean things we said about him?”** **”So what? We weren’t wrong. He IS a tool.”** **”But he hasn’t actually done anything evil yet.”** **”I wish our ML could see this instead. Why did it have to be the character I hate the most?”** **”Guys, has anyone noticed the next chapter is gone?!”** **”WTF! It’s blank! Someone message the author and ask if it’s a bug!”** **”I thought this was a finished story. I’ve read it a dozen times.”** **”Does this mean… our comments can change the plot?”** **”Don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s just a worthless, villainous side character.”** Side character or not, I am the hero of my own story. And I would use any advantage I could get. “So,” I said again, “are you going to tell me where the Sundering Gate is, or not?” 8 Following the chat’s directions, I slipped out of the palace. Seraphina’s power allowed me to turn invisible, evading the guards. “So this is the Sundering Gate.” I stood before a well that swirled with iridescent, cosmic clouds. Peering through the mist, I thought I could see the faces of my family, long passed. “Mom, Dad, your son has failed you. I’m coming to find you.” Just as I was about to jump, a crimson cord of light wrapped around me, pulling me back. “And where do you think you’re going, Rhys?” Kael stood there, holding a newborn baby, looking weak and pale. “I’m going through the Gate. To leave you two in peace.” I tried to use my new power to break free, but the cord only tightened. “That’s a Celestial Tether,” he said calmly. “The more power you use, the stronger it gets. Are you angry with me, Rhys? If I’ve done something to offend you, I apologize.” And with that, he knelt, his body still weak from giving half of his lifeblood to his newborn child. The chat immediately started gushing with sympathy. **”My poor baby looks even worse than when the sidekick framed him and got him thrown into the Demon Abyss.”** **”I regret telling Rhys where the Gate was. He should have just stayed in his lane and been the evil sidekick.”** **”The ML is apologizing and he didn’t even do anything wrong!”** **”The sidekick is just using us to bully the ML!”** **”Next time he asks for anything, I’m giving him fake directions. Let him get into trouble himself!”** Wow. Their ability to twist reality was impressive. I ignored them and focused on my core, trying to suppress my power so the Tether would loosen. When Seraphina and I had first started our journey, I had been the faster learner. I was always more powerful than her, but I held back, letting her win, to protect her pride. If only I hadn’t died before my own ascension, my power might have rivaled hers by now. Kael must have felt the Tether slacken. His fingers twitched, and he whispered, so low only I could hear, “I won’t let you have her. We’re soulmates. You just need to play your part. Hate me. That’s all you need to do.” A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. Something felt very wrong. In the next instant, the Celestial Tether vanished. Kael collapsed, and the baby, dropped to the stone floor, let out a piercing wail that echoed through the heavens. Seraphina appeared in a flash of light. She took in the scene—the unconscious Kael, the crying baby, me standing over them—and her eyes narrowed into a furious glare. “Kael told me you held a grudge against him, but I didn’t believe him. I told him you weren’t the type to be consumed by jealousy. I told him I have never loved Kael, that my heart has only ever been yours. Why can’t you leave him alone? He was worried you’d be in danger if you went back to the mortal world, so he tried to stop you. And you attacked him to break free!” Her voice shook with rage. “I never knew you could be so cruel. He just gave his essence to our child; he’s incredibly weak. Now he’s bleeding internally. Are you trying to kill him?” She looked at me, her face a mask of cold disappointment. “Resurrecting you was my million-year obsession. Now, my obsession is fulfilled. We are even.” She picked up Kael, her eyes red. “You wanted a separation? Fine. You can have it.” She drew a dagger of pure light and severed a lock of her silvery hair, throwing it at my feet. As she turned to leave, she scoffed. “You have no idea what the mortal world is like now. I bet you’ll be on your knees before one of my statues in three days, begging me to take you back.” I turned my back to her, swallowing the last of my tears. “You’re mistaken, Your Majesty. You and I… we will never meet again.” And I leaped into the swirling clouds below.

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After two years away on a private wellness retreat, I received a selfie from my daughter. She was on a milk delivery truck, dressed in a drab work uniform. “Mom, are you coming home soon? I miss you so much.” My heart softened. My daughter, Lily, was finally growing up, learning the value of starting from the ground up. I was about to type a few words of praise when I looked closer. Her skin was darkened by the sun, and the shirt she wore under the uniform was one I’d bought for her three years ago. It was pilled and worn thin, yet she hadn’t thrown it away. My daughter, the heiress to a billion-dollar fortune, experiencing life? This seemed a bit too real. I zoomed in again. Her shoes were falling apart, a gaping hole at the toe. The more I looked, the more a cold unease crept over me. The next second, I was scrolling through my adopted daughter’s Instagram. It was a highlight reel of male models and supercars. On her wrist, she wore my limited-edition, full-diamond bracelet—one of only a handful in the world. But what truly made my blood run cold was the Rolls-Royce that appeared most frequently in her photos. That was the graduation gift I had bought for Lily. How did it become hers?! … I nearly crushed my phone in my hand. I swiped through photo after photo until I saw it. The locket around Jessica’s neck. My breath caught in my throat. That was our family heirloom. It had been passed down through the Geller family for generations. How could it be hanging around the neck of an outsider? I remembered it perfectly: on Lily’s eighteenth birthday, I had placed it around her neck myself. My hands shaking, I found the number for my daughter’s university and called the registrar’s office, demanding to know about Lily Geller’s academic standing. The woman’s answer almost stopped my heart. “Lily Geller? She dropped out months ago.” Dropped out? My daughter… dropped out? The world tilted on its axis. My head started to buzz. I immediately video-called my husband, Michael. He answered, freshly dressed after a dip in his private hot tub, a towel around his neck. His expression was utterly nonchalant. “It’s just a locket, Amelia. Jessica liked it, so I let her borrow it for a few days. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? They’re sisters, it’s normal for them to share.” Normal? Had he forgotten what that locket represented? I fought to keep my voice steady. “Why isn’t Lily in school?” “She didn’t want to go. What was I supposed to do?” Michael replied dismissively, then hung up. I trembled with a rage so intense it felt like fire in my veins. That man’s indulgence of our adopted daughter knew no bounds. Looking back, even before I left for my retreat, Michael had been growing more and more distant with Lily. When she was little, he’d treated her like a princess, spoiling her rotten. But two years ago, after Jessica arrived, he suddenly put Lily on a strict vegetarian diet, claiming it was for her health. Meanwhile, Jessica was feasting on steak and lobster in our own home. I’d even joked about it at the time, asking if every bite Lily didn’t eat would magically end up on Jessica’s plate. He’d called me petty, saying we could certainly afford it. Now I see it. I was so blind. I tried calling Lily again, but the line was busy. The poor girl was probably out on her delivery route. I dialed my neighbor. We were close; she would know something. When she answered, her voice was hesitant. “Amelia, thank goodness you called! It’s… well, it’s not really our place to say, but… Lily’s had a really rough couple of years.” I pressed for details, but she refused to say more. Next, I called our housekeeper, Mrs. Evans. I didn’t waste any time. “Our household expenses have tripled in the last two years. Why did Lily drop out of the prestigious university she worked so hard to get into? Why was I kept in the dark about all this? Tell me, who has all that money been spent on?” Mrs. Evans, who had always been meek and respectful, suddenly found a spine. “Miss Lily didn’t want to go to school. She said being there gave her headaches. Delivering milk makes her happy.” Happy? My daughter was a born academic. Her entire life had been about her studies. I knew better than anyone how much blood, sweat, and tears she’d poured into getting into that university. The more I thought about it, the more I was certain something was deeply wrong. I opened Michael’s Facebook page. Not long ago, he’d taken Mrs. Evans, our driver, and Jessica on an overseas vacation. And at that exact same time, my poor daughter had been rushed to the hospital and treated for severe heatstroke. The wellness center called to ask if I wanted to renew my membership. Renew it? To hell with that. I couldn’t wait another second. I had my assistant book the first flight back. I was going home. I needed to see for myself what in God’s name had happened to my family. 1 That night, the company’s executive chat was on fire. Rumors of my return were flying, with everyone speculating I was coming back to clean house. After all, I had stepped away two years ago when the company was at its peak, choosing a quiet retreat over the boardroom. For two years, I thought of my daughter every single day. I’d ignored every message from my top executives. The moment my plane touched down, I felt an urgent pull homeward. It was late when I finally arrived. Lily had just gotten home from her route. I rushed forward and took her hands in mine, my heart sinking at the touch of rough, heavy callouses that had no business being on the hands of a girl her age. She threw her arms around me, her voice trembling. “Mom, you’re back. You’re not leaving again, are you? You’ll stay home this time?” A chill went down my spine. My daughter was twenty years old, yet she sounded like a frightened child. Her entire demeanor was timid, all her former spark and energy gone. I led her into the courtyard, wanting to show her my surprise. But as we walked, she began to tremble, like a startled animal. When I pulled the cover off the limited-edition custom motorcycle, Lily’s expression remained blank. There was no flicker of excitement. I remembered how obsessed she used to be with motorcycles, so different from other girls. How could she have changed so much in just two years? A wave of sorrow washed over me. “Lily, sweetheart. Tell me what’s been happening.” Before she could answer, the gate screeched open. Jessica roared in behind the wheel of a sports car, parking with an arrogance that suggested she owned the place. Her eyes immediately locked onto the new motorcycle, and they lit up. “Mom! You’re back! And you brought me such an amazing present!” She started to swing a leg over it. I stepped in her way. “This isn’t for you. It’s for Lily.” “Oh, come on. We’re sisters. What’s yours is mine, right, Lily?” Jessica said with a saccharine smile, looking at my daughter. Lily kept her head down, silent. She quietly picked up a bucket and cloth and began to wash Jessica’s car. I stared, dumbfounded. I grabbed Lily’s hand. “What are you doing? Let the staff wash it, or send it to the dealership. Why are you doing this?” “It’s okay, Mom. I’m used to it,” Lily mumbled. In that moment of distraction, Jessica had already started the motorcycle. With a deafening roar, she sped off into the night. Watching my daughter move like a puppet on strings, my fists clenched. Before, she would have chattered away for hours, telling me everything. Now, she wouldn’t say a word about her own life. And Jessica’s entitled attitude, as if everything that belonged to Lily was hers by right—it was all completely, horribly wrong. I decided I would get to the bottom of it. That night, I went to Lily’s room to sleep with her. “Why did you drop out of university? You were so thrilled when you got in. I never imagined you would just quit. Did something happen?” I tried to keep my voice gentle. Lily clutched the blanket, turning her face away. “I just don’t like crowded places. I wanted to be alone.” Her answer made no sense. My daughter had always been a social butterfly with a hundred friends. Since when did she prefer solitude? Later that night, Jessica’s motorcycle screeched into the driveway like a wild animal, crashing into the main gate with a deafening bang. Lily shot up in bed, terrified. I quickly pulled her close, stroking her back to soothe her. She seemed hypersensitive to sound, which only deepened my confusion. I did a quick search online. Anxiety disorders. Sufferers were often easily startled by loud noises, which could trigger traumatic memories. And through all of this, my husband, Michael, had never said a single word to me. 2 That first night back, I called Michael relentlessly. Not only had he not met me at the airport, he was now completely ignoring me. His behavior was getting more outrageous by the minute. When I first walked into the house, I’d noticed that the living room walls were covered in framed photos of Jessica. There wasn’t a single picture of Lily. What was this? Had a cuckoo taken over my nest? Our family portrait was gone, too. The audacity was staggering. I remembered the day Michael first brought Jessica home two years ago. She was dressed in shabby, ill-fitting clothes, clearly from the countryside. Michael explained that he’d been in a car accident; his car had plunged into a river, and Jessica had heroically saved his life. He said she was a kind, good-hearted girl, the same age as Lily. He wanted to adopt her, bring her into our home to be a companion for Lily and to “strengthen the family.” I had been firmly against it. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful. I was happy to support Jessica financially, to provide for her in every way. But to have her move in with us, to live under our roof? It felt wrong. But Michael was insistent, claiming a “fateful connection” to Jessica. When I refused, he went on a hunger strike, accusing me of being heartless. Eventually, I gave in, figuring I could find an excuse to send her away after a while. I never imagined that in just two years, Jessica would be acting like this was her own home. In the early hours of the morning, I was woken by shouting in the courtyard. I pulled back the curtains. And there was Jessica, holding a meeting with a group of our security guards. The way she postured, you’d think she was planning a coup. My temper flared. Since when did our household security answer to her? I was going to find out what this girl was up to. I hurried downstairs. As I passed Jessica’s room, I caught a glimpse of the gifts I’d brought back from my trip—piles of them, many still in their original packaging, all stacked in her room. Before I could process that, Jessica’s voice, sharp and commanding, drifted up from downstairs. I quickened my pace. Jessica stood there, chin up, playing the part of the young mistress perfectly. “My mother is back. From now on, you all need to watch what you say. I want security tightened around the entire property. No unauthorized personnel, no gossip, and if you have any useless opinions, you can keep them to yourselves. Do you understand?” Her imperious tone, the way she commanded them—she sounded like she’d been in charge for years. You’d think she was the true head of this household. I suppressed my rage and stepped out in front of the group. “What is all this?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “When did Jessica become the one in charge here? Why wasn’t I informed?” The head of security, a woman who had always been my most trusted guard, visibly relaxed when she saw me. I turned my cold gaze on Jessica. “Jessica, you need to learn your place. If there is a next time, you can pack your bags and get out.” I had humiliated her in front of everyone. Her face turned a blotchy, furious red. “Mom, I… I was just excited you were back,” she stammered. “I wanted to help out…” “That’s enough,” I cut her off. “Why are Lily’s gifts in your room? And this designer outfit—where did you get it? Who bought it for you? This jacket alone costs twenty thousand dollars. Who gave you permission to spend money like that?” Jessica lowered her head, her voice shrinking. “Dad… Dad bought it for me. He said it was a reward for studying so hard.” “Take it off. Now. I’m cancelling all your credit cards. If I find you being this extravagant again, you are out of this house for good.” But instead of backing down, she snapped back at me. “You can’t tell me what to do! I’m spending my dad’s money, not yours!” 3 Her defiant entitlement was so absurd it was almost laughable. What truly infuriated me, though, was that when she raised her voice, all the guards lowered their heads. They were clearly used to being bullied by her. Just as I was about to lose it, Michael walked in. He immediately sensed the tense atmosphere. “Amelia, what are you doing? Why are you picking on a child? It’s not like we can’t afford it. What’s the big deal if Jessica buys a few nice things?” The moment Michael spoke, Jessica’s chin lifted. She shot me a look of pure, triumphant defiance. So that was it. The pretense was over. “I’ll eat what my dad provides and spend what my dad gives me. It has nothing to do with you!” she spat. “From now on, you manage your daughter, and stay out of my business!” She spun around to head upstairs. I lunged forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her back so hard she stumbled. “You don’t get to make the rules in this house! Pack your things and get out. Now!” Jessica glared at me, then turned to Michael, expecting him to intervene. But this time, he just waved a dismissive hand. “Alright, that’s enough. Just go get ready for school.” Just then, Lily came downstairs, ready to leave on her three-wheeled delivery bike. I stopped her, pulling the work vest off her. “You’re taking the day off. You’re not going. We’re going to settle this now, while everyone is here.” “Mom, if I don’t go, they’ll dock my pay. The whole week’s work will be for nothing,” Lily said, her voice filled with anxiety. One of the loyal guards quickly stepped forward, taking the bike and the delivery list from her. “Miss Lily, I’ll cover your route today. You take a rest.” I turned to my personal assistant and told her to bring every security guard from my corporate office over to the house—triple the number we had on site. Before long, the entire estate was surrounded. Not even a fly could get in or out. “No one leaves this property today without my permission.” I had my most trusted guard pull up the security footage from the house servers. The color drained from Michael’s face. “Amelia, you still don’t trust me! We agreed—no cameras in the house! You installed them behind my back!” I ignored him and had my assistant set up a large screen in the courtyard. “You can’t show that!” Jessica screamed, lunging forward to stop them. My guards immediately intercepted her. An image appeared on the screen. The very first frame sent a bolt of pure fury through me. I spun around and slapped Michael across the face. The crack echoed through the courtyard. “This is how you act like a father!”

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On my best friend’s birthday, I gave her a wishing system. She had no idea it was from me. Overjoyed, she made a wish of unparalleled cruelty. 【I wish Audrey Prescott becomes a public utility. Something for thousands of people to get in and out of, day and night!】 The good news: As the gift-giver, I could hear her silent wish. The bad news: I’m Audrey Prescott. 1 Today was Jenna’s birthday. I’d invited a few friends over to my place for a small party to celebrate. Jenna and I had been inseparable since middle school, the kind of friends who shared everything. That bond held strong through college, and we were more like sisters than anything else. For her birthday this year, I’d wired her $25,000. But I also had a special surprise just for her. A wishing system. I’d acquired it by chance after my cumulative donations to the Children’s Literacy Fund hit the ten-million-dollar mark. It was a one-time-use item, but it could grant its holder a single wish. The system had its limits, of course. It wouldn’t grant wishes that involved murder, fraud, or anything illegal or morally bankrupt. It was meant for things like winning the lottery or becoming stronger—wishes I didn’t particularly need. So, just a few moments ago, I had discreetly gifted the system to my best friend. 【Congratulations, Host. You have successfully bound to the Wishing System.】 【This system will grant you one wish.】 【Please make your wish.】 The system was now linked to her. Jenna looked completely bewildered, her eyes wide with the kind of panic you see in someone who thinks they’ve just seen a ghost. “What the hell was that!” I turned away, pretending to scroll through my phone, hiding a smile behind my hand. I’d had the exact same reaction when the system first bound to me. But I knew that in a moment, her confusion would turn to absolute ecstasy. Sure enough, a few minutes later, after the system had explained its function, a visible wave of excitement washed over her. Because I was the previous owner, I had the option to listen in on the current holder’s thoughts and the system’s responses. This feature would expire once the wish was granted. 【Can you really grant any wish I make?】Jenna thought, her mind racing. 【Yes!】 【Then I wish…】 【To make a wish, you must clasp your hands, close your eyes, and remain silent. Otherwise, the wish will be invalid.】 The ritual was specific and couldn’t be altered. If she was interrupted or broke the pose, the wish would be voided. But as she looked at me, something in her eyes felt strange. It wasn’t joy. It was closer to gloating. A flicker of discomfort went through me, but I pushed it down. I slid the birthday cake closer to her. “Make a wish, birthday girl!” The lights in the living room dimmed on cue. Jenna closed her eyes, her hands clasped tightly together. I watched the corners of her lips tremble, trying to suppress a smile. I found myself getting excited, wondering what she would choose. She’d talked endlessly about wanting plastic surgery, about becoming a famous actress and making a fortune. I knew she struggled with her appearance and craved wealth. I assumed she’d be torn between wishing for a huge lottery win or a complete physical transformation. But instead, surrounded by her friends, she spoke to the system with a chilling piety. 【I wish for Audrey Prescott to be utterly ruined! I wish her family’s company goes bankrupt! I wish she gets a terminal illness! I wish she would just drop dead right now!】 2 For a second after she made her wish, I thought I was hallucinating. What did she just wish for? Who did she want ruined? Whose company bankrupt? Who terminally ill? Who did she want to drop dead? Me? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It wasn’t until the system responded to Jenna that the reality crashed down on me. 【Host, you have one and only one wish. The current request contains too many wishes. Please make a new wish.】 Jenna was visibly disappointed. 【What? Why only one? It’s so hard to choose! Fine… then just have Audrey Prescott be ruined!】 【I wish for her to be gang-banged!】 What! Did she have any idea what she was saying? Confirming her wish a second time, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I just stood there, frozen. Had she been possessed? This was Jenna—my Jenna. We were sisters. We told each other everything. Why would she do this to me? A slideshow of our life together flashed through my mind, every shared laugh and secret now feeling like a lie. Looking at the slight, triumphant curve of her lips, a deep chill spread from my core. She looked exactly the same as she always did. Had she always been like this? A two-faced monster? All smiles and friendship to my face while secretly wishing for my death? The betrayal from the person I trusted most in the world sent a surge of pure, unthinking rage through me. I was about to raise my hand, to shove her and break the ritual— Then I heard the system’s voice again. 【Wish rejected. Prohibited keywords detected.】 Jenna fumed internally. 【What? You’re a wishing system! What do you care about prohibited words?】 Hearing the system reject her wish, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Thank God for the restrictions. It wasn’t some lawless genie that would grant any twisted desire. But the relief was short-lived. My heart, which had just settled, leaped back into my throat with her next wish. 【Make Audrey Prescott be forced to have sex with multiple men!】 【Detecting 325,478 individuals named Audrey Prescott. Please specify the target.】 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to be forced to have sex with multiple men!】 【Wish rejected. The request displays illegal and criminal intent.】 Jenna! Her eyes were squeezed shut, her brow furrowed, a desperate and distorted smile playing on her lips. I stared at her, my anger boiling. What had I ever done to deserve this level of hatred? I searched my memory, my conscience, and came up with nothing. I had never, ever wronged her. How could she be so vile? And she still had the nerve to call herself my best friend. After being rejected repeatedly, Jenna was getting agitated. And she wasn’t the only one. Our friends were getting restless. “Jenna, it’s been like ten minutes. What kind of wish takes this long?” “Come on, Jenna… it’s just a birthday wish, a tradition. Don’t take it so seriously.” The expressions of our friends shifted from patient amusement to annoyance. Two of the girls who had been standing beside her gave up, rolling their eyes as they walked away from the cake and back toward the media room to sing karaoke. The others waited a little longer, but when Jenna still didn’t move, they exchanged bewildered looks and started to snicker. Jenna heard their laughter. It made her even more anxious and angry. But she couldn’t open her eyes, or the chance would be gone. She kept her face serene, but inside, she was roaring. See! They’re all laughing at me! This is all your fault! You can’t do this, you can’t do that! What kind of useless system are you? The system, however, was indifferent to her tantrum. It replied with its monotonous, mechanical voice. 【Please make a new wish.】 3 Jenna was running out of options. She gave up on the overtly illegal wishes, abandoning her obsession with me being assaulted or violated. But her next attempts weren’t much better. 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to have a promiscuous sex life and contract HIV.】 【Wish rejected. Request violates public order and morality.】 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to fall in love with her own father and have his child!】 【Wish rejected. Request violates ethical and moral principles.】 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to fall from a building and become a quadriplegic!】 【Wish rejected. Request contains uncontrollable variables.】 … I could only laugh. A cold, hollow sound. Each wish was a masterclass in malice, completely rewriting my definition of the word “vicious.” Jenna was truly something else. I never knew she hated me this much. The sheer effort she was putting into crafting my downfall, twisting her own mind into such a dark place—it was almost impressive. Honestly, you’d think I had murdered her entire family. And through it all, she still considered herself my “best friend.” The candles on the cake had burned down completely, leaving waxy, red lumps pooled on the frosting like bloody droppings. It was disgusting. Jenna had been “wishing” for over half an hour now. She just stood there, ignoring everyone. When people tried to talk to her, she’d just shake her head, her brow furrowed, refusing to open her eyes. Her bizarre behavior made everyone uncomfortable, and one by one, they started making their excuses and leaving. As the host, I was the only one left, forced to listen to her dark, venomous fantasies. Now that I knew her true colors, there was no way I was going to let her succeed. The system was a gift and I couldn’t take it back, but I could still disrupt the ritual and make her lose her chance. Just as I moved to do it, the system made a sudden announcement. 【Host’s morality is judged to be corrupt. Wishing eligibility is being revoked.】 Jenna’s strange smile twisted into a mask of pure rage. 【You’re playing me!】 Ha! I never saw that coming. A small laugh escaped me, and I sank back onto the sofa, my hand dropping to my side. 【System unbinding in: 5】 【What? Unbinding? You lying piece of junk! You can’t grant a single wish, and now you want to unbind? You’re useless!】 【System unbinding in: 4】 【I’m sorry! Wait! Wait! I take it back, don’t unbind!】 【System unbinding in: 3】 【Let me try one more time! I won’t wish for that stuff! I’ll phrase it differently!】 【System unbinding in: 2】 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to become a public utility! Something for thousands of people to get in and out of, day and night!】 Heh. She just wouldn’t quit. After all those failed attempts, did she really think a simple change in phrasing would work? Did she take the system for an idiot? 【System unbinding… Wish detected. Request meets criteria. Wish will be granted.】 【Granting wish. Please stand by…】 What! How could it grant a wish that was so obviously corrupt? I had trusted the system, trusted its filters, but somehow Jenna’s wish had slipped through. “No!” I lunged forward, reaching out to push her over, to do anything to stop this. But in the next second, a violent, tearing pain exploded through my body. It was unbearable. I collapsed to the floor, screaming, my entire body convulsing. It felt like something was ripping me apart from the inside, forcing its way into every cell. The pain was too much. I blacked out. And just before I lost consciousness completely, I saw Jenna finally open her eyes. A slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. 【Congratulations, Host. Your wish is being granted…】

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My parents were murdered and dismembered in our home, and the family company was collapsing. I begged my fiancée Ginger for help, but she married a man named Finn in a lavish “wedding of the century.” At my lowest point, Ginger’s sister Eleanor—a police captain—proposed to me at my parents’ funeral. She vowed to find the truth and be my support. I said yes. The case eventually went cold and was closed. Grieving, I let Eleanor handle everything: my parents’ affairs, my debts. She brought me into her home. Five years into our marriage, I overheard her talking to a colleague: “Eleanor, there was only one real suspect in the Grant case: Finn. Why did you bury it? How can you live with yourself, letting Caleb stay under the same roof as his parents’ killer?” “Finn is innocent,” Eleanor insisted. “He was just in the wrong place. I believe him.” Then she added, “I may have betrayed my badge, but I’ve been true to my heart. Even if he didn’t choose me, I’ll make sure he’s happy.” The gift I held for her burned in my hands. My parents’ killer had been beside me all along, and the woman I loved had protected him for five years. This marriage was built on a lie—and it was over. 1 Through the door, I could hear Eleanor gazing at a photograph on the wall, her voice thick with the sorrow of unrequited love. “Since Finn didn’t choose me, the only thing I can do is clear the path for him, remove every obstacle. As for Caleb… I’ll keep a close eye on him. He’ll never find out the truth.” Her colleague sounded disappointed, almost pleading. “You’ve been on the force for eight years, your commendations could fill a wall. Why throw it all away for Finn? He doesn’t love you! And his presence at the Grant house that night was no coincidence!” “If this ever comes out, you’ll lose your job, your reputation, everything. You could even go to prison. Are you insane?” Eleanor let out a soft, dismissive laugh. “Insane? Maybe. Love doesn’t follow logic. The case is closed. Don’t bring it up again.” “And what about Caleb? You brought him here, made him face his parents’ killer every single day. Have you ever thought about him? He loves you so much, and you—” Eleanor’s voice turned to ice. “That’s enough. I said, Finn is not the murderer.” A pause. Then, quieter. “If someone has to pay for this, then I’ll give him my life.” “I just don’t get you… You have motive, you have evidence… Fine. If you think this is right, then so be it.” Footsteps were approaching. I scrambled back to my room, a fugitive in my own home. The images from five years ago flooded my mind—the blood, the horror. The company’s collapse that followed. Eleanor had been my salvation, pulling me from the wreckage, paying off every debt, welcoming me into her life. I thought I had found true love, drowning myself in a bliss I never thought possible. But it was all a meticulously crafted lie. She hadn’t brought me into her home out of love; she’d brought me here to keep me under her thumb. To monitor me. To protect Finn. Our marriage, these five years of affection, were nothing but compensation born from her guilt. And I, like a fool, had paraded my gilded cage to the world, showing off the scraps of her pity as if they were treasures. The irony was a blade in my gut. The front door clicked shut; her colleague was gone. Moments later, Eleanor stumbled into our room, a little unsteady from drink. She cupped my face, her eyes, hazy with alcohol, full of a familiar tenderness as she kissed my forehead. “Why are you standing by the door?” “It’s nothing,” I lied. “I was going to get you some water, but I spilled it.” “Let the housekeeper handle that. You’ve been so tired lately. You need to rest. It breaks my heart to see you like this.” She leaned in and kissed my lips, her touch as gentle and loving as it had always been. But this time, I felt no warmth. Only a profound, chilling cold. To think a person could go to such lengths for someone else. As I closed my eyes, a single tear escaped and traced a path down my cheek. I helped her to the bed and tucked her in. She was asleep in minutes. Sitting beside her, I reached for her phone. The password was Finn’s birthday. Typing it in unlocked a secondary, hidden system on her device. The desktop was clean, except for a single, overflowing photo album. She had photographed the entire case file of my parents’ murder. A thousand images. And on every page, one name appeared again and again: Finn. From his motive to the evidence against him. There was even a still from a security camera video showing him at the gate of our villa that night. It was all there. But the final page was stamped with a single conclusion: UNSOLVED. She had taken the physical file home, afraid her colleagues would grow suspicious, leaving only this digital copy for herself. A secret she alone could see. Her bias, her protection, laid bare. The sight was a punch to the stomach, leaving me breathless with a sour, burning pain. Eleanor had always been a principled, decisive detective. It was one of the things I’d fallen in love with. I never imagined she would cast aside every principle for him. There was another folder, a private, locked album. I clicked on it. It was filled with pictures of Finn. Ten thousand photos documenting his life over the past five years, after he had married her sister, Ginger. Every public appearance, every family gathering—Eleanor had saved them all. And in every single group family photo, my face had been neatly cropped out. The implication was brutally clear. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I couldn’t look anymore. I took pictures of everything with my own phone. Then, I booked a flight out of the country, for three days from now. And I began the process of canceling my identity, every official document, every tie to this life. I didn’t sleep. At dawn, as I was in the bathroom, my phone buzzed with an official notification. Eleanor’s voice, laced with confusion, came from the bedroom. “Caleb? Why are you canceling your ID?” I hurried back, taking the phone from her hand, my voice even. “It’s nothing. It’s about to expire, so I scheduled an appointment to get it renewed.” I changed the subject. “Don’t you have training today? You should get going.” She didn’t press, just wrapped her arms around me, nuzzling against my neck. “Honey, are you planning a surprise for me?” I froze. She reached up and playfully tapped my nose. “I saw the new necklace you bought. You can’t hide anything from me, you know. I can read you like an open book.” She grew serious, her voice soft. “It’s almost the anniversary of your parents’ death. We should visit their graves, tell them we’re married. We could have a family dinner, too. Ginger hasn’t been home in a while.” I managed a weak smile, saying nothing. She hugged me tighter, spinning me around in a circle, excited. For five years, she had constantly tried to mend the rift between me and her sister. I’d always thought it was a sign of her love for me. Now I saw it for what it was. A calculated move. An excuse to see Finn. This five-year charade had to end. The moment she left for work, I left the house. I went to a lawyer and had a divorce agreement drawn up. I finalized the cancellation of my identity. With the original case file hidden by Eleanor, going to the police now would be useless. Leaving was my only option. When I went to her precinct to drop off the papers, I overheard some of her colleagues talking. “Is that Captain Hayes’s husband? He looks familiar… Oh, right! The Grant family massacre five years ago!” “Do you want to get assigned extra drills? Shut up. The Captain said he’s not the killer. Don’t start rumors, she’ll lose it if she hears you. She’s fought with the Chief over this case more times than I can count.” “Look at him, though. Dressed head to toe in designer clothes, probably worth a fortune. I heard he just got back from overseas. A guy that rich wouldn’t need to kill someone, right? And the way the Captain looks at him… she’d have arrested him herself if he was the one.” My nails dug into my palms. I stood outside her office, frozen by the familiar voices inside. “Has she been good to you these past few years?” It was Finn. “You know your own sister,” Eleanor’s voice was laced with a bittersweet ache. “When she heard I was coming back, she insisted on buying me a private jet. She’s just like that… married for five years and still acts like a child…” Eleanor’s voice was heavy with a sorrow she tried to suppress. “That’s good. Then I can rest easy.” “Sister,” Finn said, his tone smooth as silk, “I have to thank you for what you did back then. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be rotting in prison right now.” He sighed dramatically. “I probably shouldn’t come to the family dinner tomorrow night. It’ll just upset Caleb. Every time he sees me, he’s reminded of his parents. I don’t want him to cause a scene…” Classic Finn. He had gotten everything he wanted, and still, he couldn’t resist taking a passive-aggressive jab at me. I remembered sneaking a look at the case file years ago. I knew he was the only suspect. At Ginger’s wedding, I had publicly accused him, tried to have him taken into custody. But everyone, my own fiancée included, had turned on me, calling me a disgrace. Only Eleanor had stepped in to defend me. She had been my only salvation. And now, she was the one who had cast me into the abyss. Inside the office, Eleanor forced a smile and pulled a small ceramic sculpture from her drawer. “I made this myself. It’s not as fancy as what you can buy in a store, but it’s from the heart. I heard Ginger is pregnant. Think of it as a gift for the baby.” Finn accepted it with a triumphant grin. My hand trembled, rattling the door slightly. Eleanor glanced up and saw me through the glass partition, her expression instantly tightening. “Caleb? What are you doing here?” She rushed to the door. “Don’t misunderstand. Finn just got back in the country and came to say hello. We were just talking about the dinner tomorrow.” “Caleb, long time no see,” Finn said, rising from his chair. He was dressed in the latest bespoke suit, making me feel like a beggar off the street. I forced a nod, swallowing the bitterness. “It’s fine. I was just passing by. If you’re busy, I’ll head home.” Thinking I was angry, Eleanor followed me out, explaining all the way to the car. “Caleb, don’t overthink it. Ginger’s pregnant, and I was just asking him for some advice so we can start trying.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “You’ve always wanted a child of our own, haven’t you? I’m ready now.” Looking at her feigned concern, I almost laughed. She would violate her oath to protect Finn, even sacrifice her own marriage. Now that she had what she wanted, who was this performance for? “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice hollow. “The past is the past. You said it yourself, it was all a misunderstanding. I’m not that petty. You two catch up. I’ll wait for you at home.” She breathed a sigh of relief and personally walked me to my car. As I drove away, I saw the looks of pity from her colleagues. I ignored them, pulling over to make final edits to the divorce agreement on my phone. Back at the house, I gathered everything Eleanor had ever given me over the past five years and set it all on fire in the hearth. As the last flame died, the doorbell rang. It was a delivery. The package was purchased by Eleanor, but the recipient was Finn. I signed for it. Inside, it was filled with high-end baby products. A moment later, a text from Eleanor arrived. “Caleb, I had some office supplies accidentally delivered to the house. Don’t open it, I’ll pick it up when I get home.” I sent back a simple emoji and resealed the box. I was already leaving. I had no energy left to unravel her clumsy lies. That night, Eleanor called to say she was working late on a case. A few hours later, Finn posted on his feed for the first time in ages. His location was tagged at a luxury downtown hotel. In the photo, a woman’s police uniform epaulet was clearly visible on a chair. On the table, her hand, with the ring removed, showed a pale, untanned mark on her finger. In the reflection of a wine glass, a woman was smiling beautifully, a man gazing at her with adoration. I gave the post a ‘like,’ just as he wanted. Then I packed my bags. The next afternoon, Eleanor texted, telling me to meet at her parents’ estate. When I arrived empty-handed, my in-laws’ faces immediately soured. “Eleanor is working herself to the bone, and you can’t even be bothered to bring a small gift for us? Who are you trying to intimidate with that long face?” A nearby relative chimed in. “It’s been five years. Do you still think you’re the golden boy of the Grant family? Wake up! The Grant empire is dust! If Eleanor hadn’t used her life savings to pay off your debts, you’d be selling yourself on the street right now!” “We’re your wife’s parents. With your own gone, we’re the only parents you have. Have you no manners? People will think our Eleanor was desperate to marry you!” Just then, Finn appeared at the door, his arms laden with expensive health supplements. My in-laws’ faces lit up, and they rushed to greet him. “Finn, you’re here! The flight must have been exhausting. Your brother-in-law will cook later, you just go upstairs and rest.” “You always bring so much! We’re old, we don’t need any of this. You and Ginger should save your money.” “See? Finn is so thoughtful. Not like some people who show up looking like we owe them money. His parents have been dead for five years and he still can’t let it go. Such bad luck.” Despite her words, my mother-in-law eagerly took the gifts. Finn, beaming, linked his arm with hers. “Mom, don’t say that. The Grant case is still unsolved after five years, it’s only natural for Caleb to be upset. He’s been through enough, let’s not rub salt in the wound. We’re all family now.” He winked. “Besides, Ginger is pregnant, and I hear Eleanor is trying, too! It’s a double blessing for our family today! So please, don’t make my brother-in-law cook. You know how sister gets when she comes home and finds him in the kitchen.” At the mention of Eleanor, my mother-in-law’s smile faltered. “A daughter married is a daughter lost! And here I am, worrying about her day and night.” If this were the past, I would have believed Eleanor stayed away to protect me from her family. But knowing the truth, I felt nothing. She didn’t want to come home because she didn’t want to face Finn as his sister-in-law. She didn’t want me to bring up the murder and make him uncomfortable. The crowd of relatives fawned over Finn, praising how well he looked. I was left forgotten by the door, a cold wind whipping around me. Just then, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. It was Eleanor, finally arrived. She gently tapped my nose. “Why are you standing out here? Did Mom and Dad give you a hard time again?” Seeing her daughter, my mother-in-law’s tone softened. “How would I dare scold the great Grant heir? He’s far too precious. You’d better get him upstairs to rest.” Finn stepped in, playing the peacemaker. “Mom, I’ve already ordered catering from the hotel. It’ll be here soon. You should rest, too. Don’t stress over these things.” The relatives immediately started praising Finn again, and I was once again forgotten. Eleanor guided me to a guest room to rest, then went back to explain to her mother that I was feeling unwell. The family’s chatter and laughter drifted through the closed door, the sound suffocating me. I decided to step out for some air, but Finn was suddenly standing in front of me, a smug smirk on his face as he looked at my pale complexion. “Old classmate. Long time no see. What’s wrong? You don’t recognize me after five years?” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I should really thank you. If you hadn’t brought me home that night, I never would have found my real enemy.” My fists clenched. “Enemy? What are you talking about? What did my parents ever do to you? Why did you have to murder them, to… to cut them into pieces?” He dropped the act, his eyes turning vicious. “What did they do to me? You should ask what they didn’t do! Because of them, my father’s company went bankrupt! He was driven to jump off a building! Your family destroyed mine, and now you can’t handle a little payback?” He leaned closer, his voice a venomous hiss. “How does it feel? Seeing your parents’ killer standing right in front of you, living his best life, while you can do nothing? You know, I have to thank your fiancée and your wife. Without them, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” He grinned. “Your father was crying for you before he died. I even recorded a little video of him begging. Want to see it? Get on your knees and ask me nicely.” The image of my parents’ mangled bodies flashed before my eyes. A red rage blinded me. I swung, my fist connecting hard with his jaw. He grunted, but instead of anger, he smiled. He let my momentum carry him, collapsing dramatically to the floor. Before I could react, Eleanor was there. She kicked me squarely in the chest, the force of a trained officer sending me sprawling. She rushed to Finn, cradling him in her arms, her eyes blazing with fury as she looked at me. “Caleb, what are you doing? Are you insane? Finn came up here to call you for dinner, and you attack him?” The family rushed in, their glares like daggers. Finn, clinging weakly to her shoulder, sobbed. “Ellie, I’m so sorry. I was just trying to apologize to Caleb for the misunderstanding five years ago, I didn’t think he would just… attack me.” He sniffled. “It’s okay. Ginger broke off the engagement, we wronged him first. Let’s just call it even. Please don’t be mad at Caleb.” A sharp pain shot through my chest. A broken rib. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “Misunderstanding? How dare you call it a misunderstanding?” I looked past him, at my wife. “Eleanor, what really happened five years ago? Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she held her ground. “I am still investigating that case. I told you it has nothing to do with Finn. Why do you insist on blaming him? I am a police officer. Don’t you trust me?” Her voice hardened. “You had no right to lay a hand on him. Caleb, apologize to Finn. Now.” My mother-in-law stormed forward and slapped me across the face. “You lunatic! Still trying to frame Finn! Everyone knows how good my daughter is at her job! If she says he’s innocent, he’s innocent!” Her voice dripped with contempt. “You’re just an orphan whose parents are dead. Who do you think you are? If my daughter hadn’t saved you, you’d be selling your body in some hotel to pay off your debts! Your parents were crooks, and they got what they deserved!” She turned to Eleanor. “Ellie, forget him. Let’s get Finn to the hospital.” Eleanor didn’t give me a second glance. She helped Finn up and left. Five years of my life, gone, in a single moment. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. That night, my in-laws threw me out of the house. A passerby found me and took me to the emergency room. A broken rib, just a centimeter from my heart. Late that night, I got a text from Eleanor. It was full of placating words. “Caleb, don’t overthink what happened tonight. I know you didn’t mean it. Finn is my brother-in-law, I have to answer to Ginger. How about this, once he’s stable, I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant to apologize? Please don’t be angry. My parents were just upset, they didn’t mean what they said.” So, she remembered she had a husband. A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. “Okay. I’ll wait for you.” “Thank you for understanding, honey.” That same night, Finn posted a photo from his hospital bed. In it, a woman was asleep in the chair beside him, her face etched with worry even in her dreams. The next morning, I checked myself out of the hospital. I took my luggage and went straight to the airport. On the way, Eleanor sent me the location of the restaurant. “Honey, I have a surprise for you. I’ll be home to pick you up soon. Wait for me, okay?” I opened Finn’s social media feed. He had posted a video two minutes earlier. In it, Eleanor was carefully feeding him spoonfuls of porridge, her eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen before. I quietly liked the video, then deleted their numbers and blocked them. As I boarded the plane, I sent an anonymous, formal complaint to the chief of police, attaching all the photos of the case file I had taken from Eleanor’s phone. I mailed the signed divorce agreement to her office. At the restaurant, Eleanor was busy directing her colleagues, helping them set up for her surprise. Rose petals covered the floor. She kept checking her phone, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach as my messages went unanswered. She was about to call me when a uniformed officer rushed in, his face pale. “Captain Hayes, it’s bad! You need to get back to the precinct, now! Someone filed an official complaint about the Grant case, and the Chief is looking for you everywhere! And… and there’s been an incident with Mr. Grant!”

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The day I found out my adoptive parents had finally located their real daughter, I was drowning in guilt. As the “fake” heiress, I got her number and sent a barrage of texts, trying to smooth things over before she even arrived: “Sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been living a life of luxury in your place for all these years.” “Sweetheart, our parents have arranged everything, and from now on, we’re going to be sisters! I’m already so excited to meet you!” “Sweetheart, please don’t listen to any rumors. The whole family already loves you, especially me! I love you the mostest!” … The day the real heiress was set to arrive, I was buzzing with anticipation, waiting with my adoptive parents to welcome her. The next second, the front door swung open, and a gorgeous six-foot-one stranger walked in. “Mom, Dad,” he said. “I’m home.” Me: ??? Hold on. How did my sweet, delicate, heiress… turn into a dude? 1 For the twenty years I was raised by the Harrisons—the family that owns one of the country’s largest fortunes—they treated me as their own flesh and blood. I was cherished, spoiled, and protected from every imaginable hardship. I grew up swimming in boundless love and privilege. But on the morning of my twentieth birthday, everything changed. I accidentally overheard my adoptive parents in a private conversation. My adoptive mother, usually the picture of composure and elegance, sounded strained, her voice thick with tears. “Are you certain? Is this truly our biological child?” she whispered. My adoptive father’s excitement was palpable. “The DNA test is right here. It’s him. He is our son.” My mother sobbed quietly for a moment before asking, “When… when will we bring him home?” My father patted her hand reassuringly, his voice low with promise. “Soon.” “However, even though we intend to make arrangements for both children, I’m just worried about Summer, that she might…” … He didn’t finish the thought, but I understood completely. They had found their biological child, who had been missing for years. And they were worried that I, their adoptive daughter, would behave like one of those wicked “fake daughters” from novels—spiteful toward the true heir. How could they think that? I, the imposter, had occupied the true heir’s place. I had enjoyed twenty years of comfort, wealth, and security in the Harrington estate. Meanwhile, the real Harrington heir had suffered untold hardship out there. If I treated him poorly, what kind of ungrateful wretch would that make me? I would be betraying the years of kindness and careful love my parents had given me. 2 That evening, I sought them out and preemptively confessed. “Mom, Dad, I heard your whole conversation and your plans.” “You don’t need to worry. I agree to everything you discussed.” My adoptive parents exchanged startled looks. Then, a mix of surprise and joy washed over their faces. “You heard? You agree to everything?” my mother asked, her voice trembling. I nodded decisively. “Yes.” My father’s voice wavered slightly as he asked cautiously, “Summer, are you sure you don’t need time to think? This concerns your entire future…” What was there to think about? It was only right that the true heir should take his place in the family. I nodded again. “No need to consider. I agree entirely.” My mother finally recovered from her shock, her earlier anxiety replaced by overwhelming emotion. She gripped my hands tightly. “That’s wonderful, my darling! I was so worried you would disagree…” “Oh, you wonderful girl. Even if you find your own biological family someday, you must still call me Mom. That thought makes me so happy…” She then slipped the exquisite diamond bracelet from her wrist. It was an antique piece, passed down from my grandmother, which my mother rarely allowed anyone to see. “This was your grandmother’s. I’m giving it to you now.” The fact that she was giving me this treasure, which she guarded so fiercely, showed how desperately she wished for me and the returning heir to get along. I stared at the sparkling bracelet on my wrist, secretly vowing. I would treat the true heir with nothing but kindness. 3 Under the pretense of “building a connection,” I asked for the true heir’s contact information. My mother’s doting smile was practically unstoppable. “Yes, yes, build a connection! You two will be spending a lot of time together soon.” I pulled up the true heir’s profile. The avatar was completely black, with no nickname and no personalized status. I gasped, a chill running down my spine. I couldn’t imagine how much this poor child must have suffered over the years. They should be a vibrant young adult, but the harshness of life had clearly forced them into a cold, “do not disturb” persona. Filled with guilt, I sent the first message: [Adrian, hello. I’m Summer Harrington.] They replied instantly. The tone was exactly as my mother had described: cold and distant. [I know. They told me.] See? Referring to his own biological parents as “they.” It was a clear sign of emotional trauma, making him cautious around anyone trying to get close. I felt deeply sorry for him. [Waaah, Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I’ve occupied your place and enjoyed this good life for so many years…] Adrian: [No need to apologize.] [You were adopted. You didn’t ‘occupy’ anything that was mine.] I was stunned. Who said that a harsh environment couldn’t produce a beautiful soul? This vulnerable person, having suffered so much, showed no resentment, even finding a reason to excuse me. Tears sprang to my eyes. [Sweetheart, you are truly the best.] [Sweetheart, from today on, I am your family. Don’t worry, I promise to take care of you.] [I love you I love you kissy kissy smooch smooch…] Adrian replied with six dots: [……] A moment later, a new message popped up: [Don’t call me that.] Me: [What? Call you what?] This time, Adrian was silent for a full fifteen minutes before replying: [That… ‘Sweetheart.’ ] Me: [Why?] Adrian: [Don’t you think that kind of affectionate term is moving a little too fast?] I immediately refuted him: [Given our relationship, isn’t it perfectly normal for me to call you Sweetheart? How is that fast?] [Sweetheart, you need to get used to it quickly, because I’m going to call you that forever.] [A lifetime, in fact.] Adrian: [……] Adrian: [To be honest, I’m still considering their offer, so you don’t need to be so hasty.] Considering what? If he should come home? It seemed he was still wary of the family and, perhaps, of me. I rushed to reassure him. [Please don’t overthink things, and don’t listen to any gossip outside.] [Everyone here loves you, especially me. I love you the mostest!] After sending those two messages, Adrian’s chat bubble showed he was perpetually typing. One minute, two minutes, three minutes… Fifteen minutes passed before he finally sent a message, sounding slightly suspicious. [Have you… ever met me?] Oh, so that was what he was worried about. While I hadn’t met him, my guilt and my desire to compensate and protect him were absolutely genuine. But to ease his mind, I decided to tell a small white lie. [Of course! Mom showed me your photo.] [The moment I saw you, I just knew you were a truly wonderful person.] [Have you ever heard of ‘love at first sight’? That’s how I feel about you. I swear, I genuinely like you.] Adrian: [… You genuinely like me?] Me: [Of course!] Adrian: [… Ahem.] [Well, whatever. It doesn’t affect me.] [I have to go now. The chicken broth is on the stove; I need to tend the soup. Goodbye.] … His words were jumbled and confusing. I was completely bewildered, yet I zeroed in on one crucial piece of information—Adrian was cooking for an entire family? A surge of protective fury immediately welled up inside me. I was furious. 4 The next day, I ordered eighteen extravagant, five-star meals to Adrian’s current address. I also paid my family’s housekeeper, Mrs. Peterson, to go help Adrian clean his house. I even arranged for a few bodyguards to discreetly watch over him. Later, from the pile of old clothes Mrs. Peterson brought back, I found a pair of men’s boxer briefs. I almost laughed from sheer indignation. Dressing a delicate young woman in oversized men’s coats and pants was bad enough, but even her most intimate clothing was masculine? Fighting back my rage, I grabbed my phone and messaged Adrian: [You wear boxer briefs? They make you wear boxer briefs?!] Adrian was silent for a long moment. Then slowly typed: [?] Adrian, utterly baffled: [… What else should I be wearing?] This poor girl was so innocent she didn’t even know what she should be wearing. I opened my favorite online boutique. I sent him a link to the lingerie I bought frequently. [I’ve bought this pink lace number so many times! The quality is amazing, super comfortable! I’m wearing this exact one right now!] [And for the bra…] Words wouldn’t do it justice. I flipped my camera and recorded a quick demonstration of the item I was wearing, tugging playfully at the straps and lace, explaining enthusiastically: [Sweetheart, look at this style! Isn’t it gorgeous? The fabric is so soft, it doesn’t itch at all on your skin…] The moment the video sent, the chat box exploded with frantic new messages. Adrian’s emotion was more intense than I’d ever seen: [Summer Evans!] [You! You must never send that again! And stop saying such strange things!] [You, you, you! Summer! Show some decency!] 5 I burst out laughing. [With our relationship, what is there to be embarrassed about?] [Oh, speaking of bras, what about your measurements? I need to know your cup size.] Adrian: [………… Enough.] Me: [Enough is big enough? They say if you massage them, they’ll grow bigger, you know! I was thinking of trying it out!] [Hehehe, how about I practice on you? Once you get home, let me help you with your measurements and see if we can make a difference…] Adrian: [………… Shut up.] I tutted. [Why are you so stingy? What’s the harm in letting me have a little look, given our connection?] [……] Adrian stopped replying entirely. I waited a few minutes, then worriedly checked with Mrs. Peterson. [Mrs. P, where is Adrian?] Mrs. Peterson: [She was blushing furiously, threw her phone down, and rushed into the bathroom to take a shower. Is something wrong, dear?] [No, nothing at all.] I was relieved, but I couldn’t help but marvel. Taking a shower and going to bed at nine in the morning?

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Seven years with Ethan Hayes. Six of them with his number deleted from my phone. Our only communication was through Venmo. One day, I just got tired of it all. When I asked for a divorce, he didn’t try to stop me. He was civil, even when we signed the papers. He calmly divided our assets and said, “You’re the mother of our child. We can let the past be the past.” “And if you’re ever struggling out there,” he added, “there will always be a room for you at the house.” I just smiled. “No, thanks. That wouldn’t be fair to your new girlfriend.” With that, I stood up and walked away, leaving Ethan—always so cool and composed—sitting alone at the table, just staring into space. 1 The tabloids were having a field day. Ethan Hayes, the celebrated director, had just dropped five million dollars on a pink diamond to impress his new lover. The woman on his arm was a young starlet from one of his films. She looked like she’d just graduated college, still a little baby fat on her cheeks, but with incredibly expressive eyes. The internet commenters were ruthless. *“What happened to his taste?”* Someone replied, *“You don’t get it. A man’s true love will always be eighteen.”* Another person pointed out, *“You know, she kind of looks like his wife, back when she was young.”* That sparked a wave of sentimental comments, all concluding that Ethan Hayes was just like every other man. He might play the field, but deep down, his wife was still the one. … I almost laughed out loud. Ever since we’d stopped talking, the only contact I had with Ethan was a single Venmo transaction at the beginning of each month. Five thousand dollars. The memo always read: “Expenses.” In his world, a five-million-dollar diamond was a reasonable price for a new lover’s smile. A five-thousand-dollar payment was all his nominal wife was worth. If that was love, it was a sick joke. Our marriage had been a ghost for six years, but seeing that woman with the five-million-dollar diamond on her finger still stirred something in me. It wasn’t just the money. It was the memory of a much different time. I don’t remember how long ago it was. Ethan had just been cut off by his family, and his monthly paycheck was exactly five thousand dollars. When he proposed, he fumbled with a simple, unadorned ring, carefully sliding it onto my finger. “Claire,” he’d whispered, “I promise, when we have money, I’ll get you a much better one.” I found out later that even that simple ring had cost five thousand dollars. The idiot had spent his entire month’s salary on it, choosing to live on instant ramen just for me. Maybe the five-million-dollar news had knocked something loose in my brain. I opened Venmo, found Ethan’s profile picture, and, for the first time in years, sent him a message. *“So, where’s my pink diamond?”* It was meant to be a joke. But by the next morning, he still hadn’t replied. 2 After a restless night, I finally fell asleep around dawn. At noon, my phone rang. It was the housekeeper from the family estate, gently reminding me that I was late. I checked my calendar. It was my designated day to visit our daughter, Lily. It was also, consistently, the worst day of my month. When I hurried into the estate, Lily was playing on a soft rug in the living room. A young woman was kneeling beside her, watching her with a gentle expression. To an outsider, they looked like mother and daughter. I stopped in my tracks. It was the woman from the news. “What are you doing here?” I asked. She looked up, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. She was an actress, after all. Her timing was impeccable. The first tear rolled down her cheek at the exact moment Ethan started walking down the stairs. He looked like he’d just woken up, a storm cloud of irritation hanging around him. His silk robe was open, revealing a chest covered in faint, red scratches. They were good together, I thought absently. “What are you crying about?” Ethan asked her, his tone surprisingly soft. “Ethan,” the woman said, standing up and looking at him timidly. “I think… Claire doesn’t want me here. I should go.” She made a show of leaving, but before Ethan could say anything, Lily grabbed her hand. “You can’t go! I don’t want you to go!” The young woman scooped her up. “Lily, honey, your mommy’s here now. When she’s here, I have to leave.” Lily scowled at me. “I don’t want Mommy. She’s a bad woman! I only want you.” Then they clung to each other and started sobbing, making me feel like the intruder. I watched for a moment before speaking up. “Maybe I should be the one to leave.” It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, but Ethan’s face immediately darkened. He looked up, his eyes cutting into me. “Claire, do you think this is a hotel? You can just come and go as you please?” Before I could answer, his mother appeared at the door of the study. “Daughter-in-law,” she commanded, “come in here. I have something to say to you.” In the study, his mother was as severe as ever, her fingers working over a string of pearls, her gaze judgmental. “You’re not well enough to care for Lily yourself. Sophie is the niece of a distant relative. I’ve asked her to come here and look after Lily. Do you have a problem with that?” I shook my head. So her name was Sophie. It sounded a lot like mine. His mother nodded, satisfied. “As for you, you can’t even hold onto your husband and your own child. You’re the most useless type of woman.” I lowered my eyes. “You’re right. I am useless.” Experience had taught me that arguing with her was pointless. Agreeing with her insults was the fastest way to end the lecture. But I wasn’t prepared for what she said next. “Tonight, you and Ethan will sleep together in the guest room in the west wing. You need to get pregnant again. Then you won’t have to worry about raising Lily at all.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Isn’t Lily enough?” “It would be better to have a boy,” she stated. “In that case, couldn’t Sophie get pregnant?” I heard my own voice, suddenly cold. “As long as it’s a Hayes, does it matter who gives birth?” “She…” For a moment, his mother was speechless, her eyes darting away. “She can’t. Besides, you are still Ethan’s wife. This is your duty.” I should have said, “I understand.” Instead, what came out was, “No.” *Slap.* 3 Five hours later, I walked out of the study, the red mark of her handprint still visible on my cheek. This is what talking back gets you, I sighed to myself. I’ve learned this lesson a thousand times, why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut? It was already dark. They wouldn’t have waited for me for dinner. My stomach rumbled. I was about to go say my goodbyes when I heard a small voice say, “Mommy.” Startled, I saw Lily standing in the doorway, clutching a stuffed bunny. I quickly covered my swollen cheek and knelt down to smile at her. “Hi, sweetie. Did you have dinner?” Lily stared at me for a moment, then tossed the bunny into a nearby trash can. “Why did you do that?” I asked gently. “You have to take care of your toys.” “It’s ugly,” she said. “I don’t like it.” I fell silent. I wasn’t good with my hands; the bunny was lopsided and amateurish. “You’re not allowed to make Aunt Sophie leave,” Lily continued, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I wish… I wish Aunt Sophie was my real mommy.” She gave me a resentful look. “So you remember, if you make her leave, I’ll never talk to you again!” With a flick of her pigtails, she skipped away. I stayed crouched in the doorway for a long time, feeling my body turn to wood, piece by piece. My soul seemed to float out of my body, looking down at the empty shell I had become. I don’t know how I got up, how I left the estate. I was standing on the curb trying to hail a cab when a black car pulled up. The window rolled down to reveal Ethan’s emotionless face. “Get in.” He took me to a small noodle shop we used to frequent. The owner recognized us and greeted us warmly. “The usual? Two bowls of ramen?” Ethan shook his head. “Just one.” As I ate, Ethan took a call. “Sophie? What’s up?” My eyes drifted to his face. He was listening to whatever she was saying, and a small smile played on his lips. His gaze was soft, focused, and gentle. He used to look at me like that. But somewhere along the way, a chasm had opened between us, and our glances had grown cold. The gentle boy from my memories felt like a dream, so distant I sometimes wondered if I’d made him up. But seeing him now, I knew he hadn’t vanished. That gentle side of him was still there. It just wasn’t for me anymore. In that moment, a profound weariness washed over me. What was the point of this marriage? What had we been holding onto for all this time? 4 The thought was so exhausting I could barely hold my chopsticks. I felt a sudden urge to cry, but I refused to do it in front of this new version of Ethan. I wanted to laugh, but instead, a tear fell. Then another. They dripped into my soup, making the broth salty. And in that moment, a ridiculous thought popped into my head: *How does Sophie manage to cry without getting her nose all runny?* A tissue appeared in front of me. Ethan had hung up the phone and was watching me with a frown. “Did my mother give you a hard time again?” He paused. “You know you can just say no to her. You don’t have to make yourself look so pathetic every time.” Through my tears, I looked at him and said, with perfect calm, “Ethan, you were right all those years ago. We would have been better off if we’d never met.” He looked confused. “What are you on about now?” I pulled a tissue from the dispenser, wiped my face, and said the words I had thought a thousand times but never dared to speak. “Ethan, I want a divorce.” 5 If someone had told me ten years ago that Ethan and I would end up as bitter strangers, I would never have believed them. After my father died and my mother drowned herself, I never really had a home. My childhood was a blur of being passed between different relatives. I was always on edge, never knowing when I’d be sent to the next house. Growing up like that, I was not a lovable child. Then I got into NYU’s film school and met Ethan Hayes, the guy everyone orbited around. I never understood why, out of all the beautiful girls at that school, he chose me. All I knew was that first love was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted. And sweetness never lasts. The first time I went to his family’s estate for Christmas, we were thrown out before we could even take our coats off. His parents tossed the gifts I’d brought out into the snow after us. “If you insist on marrying her,” his father had said, “then you are no longer our son.” I stood there in the freezing wind, completely stunned. “What just happened?” “They’re just like that,” Ethan said, not surprised at all. “Control freaks. They want to run my entire life.” Seeing the worry on my face, he poked me in my ticklish spot on my side. I burst out laughing, trying to dodge his hand, and nearly fell into a snowbank. “Don’t worry about them,” he said, taking my hand. “They may be my parents, but I’m their only son. What father is going to disown his only son forever?” The wide street was covered in a thick blanket of snow. Red and green decorations adorned the doors and windows around us. We crunched through the snow, flakes landing in our hair, on our eyelashes, turning us into a pair of snow people. We were homeless, but we just looked at each other and laughed. After a while, Ethan hoisted me onto his back. “I should get down,” I said, worried. “You’re going to slip.” “Nope,” he said. “You’re so skinny, if your shoes get wet, you’ll get sick for sure. And then who has to take care of you? Me.” He mumbled, “Besides, it’s a man’s right to carry the woman he loves.” I blushed. He just grinned at me. “You just work on giving me a little one to carry in a few years, and see if they still have the heart to kick us out.” Embarrassed, I gave his shoulder a playful shove, and in the next second, we were both tumbling into the snow. In the end, he was the one who got sick. We spent the entire holiday break in a cheap motel. On New Year’s Eve, even with medicine, he was burning up, delirious with fever. I kept placing a cool, damp cloth on his forehead, praying his temperature would go down. It wouldn’t break. I was on the verge of tears, and though I wasn’t religious, I clasped my hands together. “Please, God, gods, whoever you are, wherever you’re from, if you just let Ethan get better, you can give all his sickness to me. I’ll take it, I swear.” … Sometime in the middle of the night, his fever finally broke. I was so exhausted I fell asleep slumped over the edge of the bed and slept right through midnight. Much later, Ethan told me that when he woke up that night and saw me sleeping beside him, heard the sound of my soft breathing, he made a promise to himself. For the rest of his life, he would never love anyone but me. “What if you cheat?” I had asked him. He looked at me, his expression serious. “Then may the gods strike that Ethan Hayes dead.” 6 Without his family’s support, we had nothing. Ethan had gone to film school because his father was a famous director. He’d grown up on film sets and had developed a passion for it. But after their falling out, his father had blacklisted him. No one in the industry would hire him. So Ethan worked manual labor during the day and wrote screenplays at night, selling them anonymously for cash. No one would cast me either, so I got a job working the night shift at a 24-hour convenience store. At the end of my shift, I’d bring home the free, nearly expired food for us to share. I was used to being poor, so it didn’t bother me. But Ethan, who had grown up with everything, never complained once. As his scripts started selling for more money, our lives slowly improved. We could afford to go out for hot pot once a week, and we didn’t have to haggle over the price of vegetables at the market. Soon, I was pregnant. Ten months later, Lily was born. Ethan was overjoyed, but I’d often find him just staring at the phone. I knew he wanted to tell his parents. But his pride wouldn’t let him. I secretly got his father’s number and, after Ethan was asleep, I called and told him he had a granddaughter who was almost a month old. His father, who was shooting a film in another state, was ecstatic. He said he’d leave immediately to come see her. I never could have imagined that one phone call would plunge all of us into hell. Maybe he was too excited. On the drive, his car collided with a wrong-way driver on the highway overpass. The car burst into flames and was knocked off the bridge. He was killed instantly. When we got to the funeral home, I still couldn’t believe it. The kind of accident you only see on the news had actually happened to us. Ethan and I knelt before the altar. His mother walked over, said nothing, and slapped me across the face. I didn’t flinch. At that moment, I felt I deserved it. “This is your fault,” she said, her eyes vacant. “My son, because he wouldn’t listen to me about you. And now my husband, dead because of you.” She stared at me, her voice trembling. “What did you ever do to my family to deserve this?” She lunged at me again, but Ethan pulled her back, holding her tight. The sound of her raw, desolate grief filled the room. Ethan held her, his eyes red, but he never looked at me. He didn’t say a single word. That silence hurt more than any of his mother’s accusations. After the funeral, after everyone had left, it happened to be Ethan’s birthday. I carefully made him a bowl of noodles. He just stared at it until the broth was completely cold. Then his eyes moved, and with a calm, almost joking tone, he spoke to me for the first time in days. “Claire,” he said, “maybe it would have been better if I’d never met you.” 7 The noodles in front of me were cold. I put down my chopsticks. Ethan looked at me, seeming both surprised and not surprised at all. “Are you sure?” he asked. “The debt I owed your family,” I said, “I think I’ve paid it off by now.” Finally saying the words I’d held in for so long made my voice feel lighter. “Besides, there are plenty of women who would love to be the next Mrs. Hayes.” “Okay,” was all he said. He stood up, as if he were being chased, and hurried out of the noodle shop. After the mandatory waiting period, I called him to arrange a time to go to the courthouse. The divorce agreement was settled quickly. “You don’t want Lily?” he asked. “She’ll have a better life with you,” I said. “And besides, she doesn’t want to be with me.” After the lawyers finished, a clerk stamped our papers with a steel seal. And just like that, Ethan and I were no longer legally bound. Maybe it was the finality of it all, but the hard edges Ethan had built up over the years seemed to soften. He was silent for a long time, then he spoke, his voice low. “Claire, you’re her mother. The past… let’s just let it go. And if you’re ever struggling, there will always be a room for you at the estate.” I froze. After all these years, it was the closest I would ever get to an apology from him. But now, it meant nothing. I smiled. “No thanks. It wouldn’t be fair to your new girlfriend.” I added, “And I’m confident I can build the life I want for myself.” I stood up and walked out of the courthouse, my steps light. Ethan was still sitting there, maybe watching me, maybe just staring into space. 8 I moved out and didn’t see anyone from the Hayes family for a long time. After so many years out of the workforce, I quickly discovered how hard it was to get back in. While scrolling through job sites, I’d often see news about Ethan and Sophie. Sophie at a basketball game with him, Sophie on a trip to Japan with him. In the photos, Ethan looked thinner, his eyes colder and more melancholic. Sophie was always nestled by his side, her expression adoring. Someone on Twitter called Sophie a homewrecker, and she replied directly: *“Sorry, but he’s single.”* My old friends called, shocked. To each of them, I gave the same reply: *“Yes, Ethan and I are divorced.”* They all expressed their sympathy, but only one of them, Maya, asked the right question: *“So what are you doing now?”* I told her, *“Looking for a job, but not having much luck. You know of anything?”* Maya’s reply was triumphant. *“I was waiting for you to ask. You let Ethan snatch you up way too early, had a kid right away, and spent years being nothing but the woman behind the man. From now on, you’re working for me. Love, men, relationships… they’re all unreliable. Power and money, that’s what you can count on.”* … I couldn’t help but smile at the long string of texts from Maya. She was a partner at a film production company. I started as her assistant. I worked long hours, and even though my boss was my friend, I was determined not to slack off. On Valentine’s Day, flowers were being delivered to the office all day. I assumed the flurry of romance had nothing to do with me. Then I got a call. I thought it was my lunch delivery and told the guy to just leave it at the front desk. But he insisted. The item was too valuable; he had to deliver it to me personally. It wasn’t food. It was a ring. A black velvet box, lined with deep red silk. In the center sat a pink diamond ring, its facets catching the light and throwing off a blinding sparkle. There was no note, no card. But I knew who it was from. I put the ring back in the box and had the courier return it. A few hours later, a notification popped up on my phone, from the one app I hadn’t blocked him on. A Venmo message: *“I thought you wanted it.”* I stared at the message for a few seconds, then typed back: *“I don’t want it anymore.”* His reply was instant. A single word. *“Hah.”* I didn’t respond. I just blocked him, severing the last line of communication we had left.

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To spite his first love, the A-list actor Sean Walters married me. For three years, they remained tangled up in each other’s lives. They embraced and kissed on set, whispered sweet nothings in interviews. The internet said I was the pitiful stand-in. I never got angry. I just smiled and helped him deny every rumor. Until I got pregnant by accident and terminated it without telling him. He was sick with a furious, heartbroken rage, demanding to know why. I stroked the lines of his face and answered calmly, “Because I don’t love you.” The man I love is his dead brother. 1. The whole world knew Sean Walters married me to make Stella Ross jealous. They had a fight right before their wedding, and Stella left the country in a huff. Sean didn’t chase her. He turned around and married me instead. I wore a wedding dress that wasn’t mine and married a man who didn’t love me. Everyone said that the moment Stella came back, Sean would throw me away. But in our third year of marriage, it seemed like Sean was starting to fall for me. He would make me breakfast in bed, coax me awake with soft words, and kiss my lips when I pouted. In our most tender moments, we were lost in each other. In the dark, he would whisper temptations in my ear. “My sweet girl, give me a child. One just as sweet as you.” We were like any other ordinary, loving couple. Until the day I actually got pregnant. Before I had the chance to tell him, Stella Ross came back. On that day, they got back together. 2. The day Stella returned was the night of their college reunion. I heard her family had gone bankrupt and she was hitting up everyone for money. When Sean led me into the room, we saw some rich classmate forcing drinks on her. A hundred grand for every glass she finished, he said. Stella choked and her eyes streamed with tears, but she forced a smile and downed every single one. When she saw Sean, a flash of panic crossed her face. It must have been the humiliation. She quickly looked down. Someone in the crowd jeered, “Stella, if you need money, you should be begging our superstar Sean.” “Yeah, with your history, you roll around in his bed a few times, he’s not gonna be cheap with you.” Sean shot the man a glacial look. “Cut the crap,” he said slowly, his voice lethally soft. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he leaned against my shoulder. “Anyone who pisses off my wife can shut up and get the hell out.” Everyone laughed, calling me “Mrs. Walters,” saying how lucky I was that Sean doted on me so much. No one knew that if Stella hadn’t shown up, Sean wouldn’t have even been here tonight. Stella stared at me, biting her lip so hard it turned white, fighting back tears. The man who’d been plying her with drinks put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it slowly. “What now?” he purred. “Looks like the great Sean Walters doesn’t want you anymore. But that’s okay. He doesn’t want you, but I do.” “If you’re willing to strip down and show me a good time in bed, I’ll give you a little spending money. How about it?” Sean crushed the cigarette in his hand. His face, already cool, turned to ice. He still cared. It was written all over him. Stella, her eyes shimmering with tears, looked up at Sean. “I won’t,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll only ever love one person in my life. Even if he doesn’t want me anymore, I won’t let anyone else touch me.” Sean’s hand on mine tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. The classmate, his pride wounded, laughed and called her a bitch. “Who do you think you are, some kind of saint? Fucking hell, I offer you a way out and you spit in my face. Fine. I’m screwing you tonight whether you like it or not.” He grabbed Stella and started dragging her towards the door. She was weak from the alcohol, stumbling against him, her struggles half-hearted. Sean’s eyes were locked on her. I could see it then. He was ready to kill for her. Just as they were about to leave, Sean finally broke. He strode forward and kicked the man holding Stella to the ground. He pinned him there, punching him again and again. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice a vicious snarl. “You touch her again, and I’ll cut off your filthy hands!” The room descended into chaos. Someone was filming. I quickly grabbed Sean’s sleeve, trying to get him to stop. He whipped his head around, his voice dripping with venom. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” I froze, then slowly let go. Stella threw herself into his arms, sobbing. “Sean, don’t fight for me! If you get hurt, it’ll kill me. I was so scared… so scared you really didn’t want me anymore…” Sean didn’t push her away. He held her tight, shielding her from the world. In front of everyone, he walked out with Stella Ross. And left me behind. 3. Sean didn’t come home that night. At dawn, Stella posted on social media. “You said you’d never hold another woman’s hand again.” The post included a picture of two hands, fingers intertwined. The man’s hand had a tiny, crimson mole on the back. It was Sean. And I was the other woman whose hand he would never hold again. Within ten minutes, the post was trending. My haters flooded her comments. “Go, queen! You and Sean are the perfect couple! You have to get back together!” “Morals out the window, I’m shipping this! I just can’t stand to see that scheming bitch Vivian happy!” So many people were waiting to see me humiliated. A few of his loyal fans tried to defend me. “Bro, that’s not you, is it? I’ve been a fan for years, I know how good Vivian is to you. You can’t do her dirty like this!” Sean and I had numerous endorsement deals as a couple. The penalty for a scandal was astronomical. His agent couldn’t reach him, so she called me, begging me to do some damage control, to lie and say we were together. I scrolled through my camera roll and realized, with a pang, how few photos we had together. In the handful that existed, I was the only one smiling. Finally, I chose a photo from a long time ago. Sean, sitting under a desk lamp, reading a book. The soft glow of the lamp enveloped him, making him look so much like the man who always appeared in my dreams, the one who made my heart ache. The moment I posted it, comments poured in. “See? Sean’s at home with his wife! Anyone who says he’s cheating, I’ll rip your head off!” Everyone started attacking Stella, calling her a shameless, attention-seeking liar. Until, a few minutes later, Sean retweeted Stella’s post. Under the picture of their clasped hands, he wrote: “It was me.” He calmly admitted the truth, exposing my carefully constructed lie. Once again, for her, he threw me away. Stella’s fans stormed my page, laughing at me. “LMAO, busted! Sucks to be you, you lying bitch.” “Stella gave you three years and you still couldn’t lock him down. Pathetic.” Who ever said I wanted Sean’s heart? I deleted every trace of him from my phone. I wanted a divorce. 4. The next morning, the studio called me in to deal with the PR crisis. As luck would have it, I ran into Stella the moment I arrived. Sean must have brought her, unable to bear being apart from her for even a moment. She apologized immediately. “Vivian, I’m so sorry about last night. I was drunk and posted something stupid, and Sean just went along with my nonsense. We caused you so much trouble.” “I already told him off,” she continued, her voice dripping with false concern. “He’s always taking my side, never thinks about you. Such a typical man, so clueless.” “And those things people are saying online, that you’re my stand-in… it’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?” “They have no idea how grateful I am to you, for taking care of Sean all these years…” She gave me a sickeningly sweet smile. I smiled back. “I’m Sean’s wife. A wife taking care of her husband doesn’t require thanks from an outsider. You, on the other hand, being called a homewrecker all night… you mustn’t let it get to you.” Her expression flickered. She looked me up and down, her eyes landing on the ring on my finger. “Vivian,” she said, her smile returning, sharp as glass. “You’re wearing my wedding ring. You should give it back.” She reached for my hand. I was done. I yanked my arm back, accidentally hitting her in the face. Suddenly, she swung her designer handbag at my head. The metal clasp caught my forehead, drawing blood. The force of the blow made my ears ring. I raised my hand to strike back, but my wrist was caught from behind. Sean. He had appeared out of nowhere. His voice was ice. “Vivian Shaw, you dare touch her and see what happens.” When I turned, he saw the blood on my face. He froze for a second, then frowned at Stella. “You did this?” Tears welled in Stella’s eyes as she shook her head. “Sean, she called me a homewrecker and tried to hit me! I was just trying to get away, my bag hit her by accident! I didn’t mean to, I’ll apologize!” The moment she cried, Sean melted. He stroked her hair, praising her. “Good girl. If anyone tries to hit you, you hit them back. As long as I’m here, you don’t have to apologize to anyone.” A sudden, sharp pang of envy hit me. The truth was, I cried easily too. But the person who used to wipe away my tears was gone. My agent, Angela, couldn’t take it anymore. She pointed at me, her voice rising as she yelled at Sean. “This is your wife! Sean, are you blind? Coddling this little snake while your wife is bleeding?” “In what world is Vivian not a thousand times better than her?” “Have you forgotten you told Vivian you wanted a baby? That you said being with her was the only time you felt like you had a real home?” “You’re hurting her like this now. Are you sure you won’t regret this later?” I instinctively touched my stomach. A tiny, budding life was hidden inside me. Sean just laughed, a hollow, empty sound. His gaze swept over me, devoid of any emotion. “Maybe I did like Vivian for a little while,” he said calmly. “But Stella’s back. And whether it’s Vivian Shaw, or some other woman, they all need to step aside.” So that’s what it was. A brief, shallow affection. Now that his true love was back, he was done with me. I pulled the ring from my finger—the ring that was never mine—and held it out to him. The smile on Sean’s face slowly vanished. After a moment of tense silence, he reached for it. Angela grabbed my arm, her eyes darting to my stomach, pleading with me. “Vivian, don’t be a fool. You’re…” Stella cut her off, snatching the ring from my hand. She tried to slip it on her own finger, but it was too small. Her smile faltered for a second before she tossed the ring into a nearby trash can. She clung to Sean’s arm, pouting. “Whatever. Don’t be mad for me. I don’t want a ring some other woman has worn anyway. It’s dirty.” Sean ignored her. He was staring at me, his voice low and intense. “You’re what?” I gave him a cool, blank look and turned to leave. Sean. I’m pregnant. You don’t need to know. 5. Sean is an incredibly perceptive person. Angela’s hint was obvious. I’m sure he figured it out. My health has never been good; I’ve been on medication for years. This pregnancy was an accident, and it posed a risk. The doctor advised me to terminate it. And I didn’t want to use a child to stay tangled up with him. Before the procedure, I moved out of our home. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want any trouble. Not that he cared. He didn’t look for me. He just went on with his life. Angela sent me a video. It was from a charity auction. Sean had just gifted Stella a magnificent diamond ring. She was laughing, throwing her arms around him. A handsome couple. A perfect match. Right. I’d almost forgotten. Stella was back. And whether it was Vivian Shaw, or Vivian Shaw’s baby, we both had to step aside. That was fine. 6. The day before the surgery, a sudden, sharp anxiety gripped me. I remembered the jade charm my mother had gotten for me before she died. It was in the safe at home. I decided to go back for it. When I got there, I discovered the entry code had been changed. I stood there, locked out of my own home, a wave of humiliation washing over me. Suppressing my anger, I called Sean. But it was Stella who answered. Her voice was triumphant. “Vivian, it’s my birthday today. Sean insisted on taking me to see a meteor shower. We won’t be back tonight.” “I told him once that lovers who wish on a shooting star stay together forever. I can’t believe he remembered. I’m so happy.” “But I can’t give you the code. I mean, we’re not home. It wouldn’t be right for an outsider to just let herself in…” I hung up, turned to the keypad, and entered today’s date. The door clicked open. The code was Stella’s birthday. Inside, every trace of my existence had been erased. Our wedding photo on the console table was replaced by one of him and Stella. They were young, radiant. He was holding her, his smile genuine and full of joy. My collection of succulents had been thrown out, pot and all. My study had been converted into a piano room for her. I stood there, stunned, then ran to the bedroom. The closet was filled with a row of sexy, lace nightgowns. None of them were mine. The safe was at the bottom of the closet. I pressed my fingerprint to the scanner and, with trembling hands, pulled out my jewelry, the cash, the documents. But the one thing I couldn’t find was the jade charm my mother had left me. It was the only thing I had left of her. Stella knew that. So she threw it away.

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My cousin Cassie always had my best interests at heart. Or so she said. When she married my billionaire fiancé, she told me she was doing it for me—that the richer a man is, the more twisted he becomes, and she was selflessly diving into the fire to save me. When she sold his spare condo behind his back, she told him I’d taken it over to stash my boy toys. When she maxed out his black card, it was to pay off my gambling debts. When she had an affair with her husband’s own brother, got pregnant, and hemorrhaged after a clandestine meeting, she told everyone I’d been hosting an orgy with a group of male models, that she’d tried to intervene, and that I’d pushed her down the stairs, causing her to miscarry. Ultimately, her husband sent me to the Philippines to atone for my sins. There, her lover had me tortured and dismembered. When I open my eyes again, I’m back on the day of my cousin’s affair and her convenient miscarriage. 1 Every time Cassie went to meet her lover, she told her husband, Donovan Pierce, that she was with me. The excuses were a rotating carousel of chaos. Either I was the other woman in an affair and had been beaten up by the wife, needing comfort and a place to hide. Or I was being chased by loan sharks over gambling debts. She even used the excuse that I’d gone to a clinic for a hymen restoration surgery and needed her there for emotional support. If Donovan hadn’t shown up on my doorstep in my last life, his face contorted with rage as he listed my transgressions, I would have never known my life had been so incredibly… eventful. Right now, my phone is vibrating off the hook with his name. The second I answer, Donovan’s voice explodes in my ear. “Sienna, it’s late. What the hell are you still doing with Cassie?” “I have tolerated you for long enough. Cassie is your cousin, not your mother. You’re a grown woman, for Christ’s sake, stop leeching off her!” “She’s a married woman, and she’s pregnant. Can you have an ounce of shame and stop bothering her with every little thing? Do you have any idea how much of a burden you are?” “Is this about me? Because I broke up with you? Is this some pathetic revenge, trying to destroy my family? Cassie is a good, simple person. If you keep using her like this, don’t blame me for what comes next. Now, send her home. Immediately!” Donovan sounded like he was at the end of his rope, the verbal assault making my ear ache. Back when we were dating, I actually thought he was a gentle, kind man. A true gentleman. But every time he was good to me, Cassie would show me articles about husbands who murdered their wives, dismembered their bodies. She’d warn me, her voice filled with feigned concern, that men were masters of deceit. The more perfect they seemed on the outside, the more dangerous they were on the inside. Then, during a period when Donovan and I were giving each other the silent treatment, she slid into his life as a sympathetic friend, a shoulder to cry on. While she was busy defending him, she was also conveniently, and not-so-subtly, weaving a tapestry of lies about me. With Cassie’s “help,” Donovan and I drifted apart for good. If I hadn’t accidentally seen a piece of Cassie’s lingerie at his house, I would have still been patting myself on the back, grateful for such a clever cousin who helped me dodge a bullet. Soon after, they were married. I made a conscious effort to keep my distance from both of them after that. But Donovan didn’t see it that way. I’d get these calls, full of rage and accusations. My life became a cycle of working and then explaining Cassie’s whereabouts to her husband. The truth was, I never knew where she was. I just repeated the lines she fed me, swallowing the pressure and the insults. It wasn’t until the day Donovan stormed into my apartment, his eyes burning with fury, and had his men stuff me into a sack and ship me to the Philippines, that I finally understood. I had been her scapegoat. Her fall guy. Remembering Donovan’s revenge, remembering the way Cassie and her lover had disposed of me… a cold fire ignites in my gut. Donovan, tonight you’re going to be the one to rip the ugly truth of your perfect family wide open. A chilling smile touches my lips. I speak into the phone, my voice deceptively calm. “Cassie’s busy. Plumbing issues, you know. Can’t be reached for a while.” Then, my expression hardens. I end the call and switch off my phone, refusing to hear another word from him. Moments later, a heavy knock rattles my front door. The instant I turn the lock, the door is thrown open with such force that I stumble backward. Before I can even register what’s happening, several large bodyguards have me pinned, my arms twisted behind my back. Donovan strides into my apartment, his heavy footsteps echoing on the floorboards as he violently searches for Cassie. He tears through my two-bedroom apartment like a hurricane. He finds nothing. “You said she was dealing with plumbing. Where is she?” he snarls, his face flushed with anger as he gets in my face. Seeing him like this, a thrill of vengeance courses through me. I raise an eyebrow, my voice slow and deliberate. “I only said she was dealing with plumbing. I didn’t say it was my plumbing. Have you checked your brother’s place?” A dangerous glint enters Donovan’s eyes. He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Stop playing games,” he hisses, his voice low and menacing. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Where are you hiding her?” 2 Cassie was always secretive about her movements; I was just the cover story. I had no idea where she actually was. Wincing from the pain shooting through my scalp, I state the simple truth. “She’s a grown woman with arms and legs. How am I supposed to control where she goes? I’m not her mother!” This wasn’t the answer he wanted. Donovan’s eyes turned cold. He lets go of my hair only to swing his hand, the open palm cracking against my cheek. The force of it makes my head ring. I can feel the fire in my own veins rising to meet his. This is it? This is all the anger you have? The thought is exhilarating. Oh, Donovan. The real storm hasn’t even hit you yet. Seeing the defiance in my eyes, he starts tapping my bruised cheek with his fingertips, a condescending, rhythmic pat. “You think because you’re stubborn, I can’t get what I want?” With that, he fishes my phone from my pocket, powers it on, and uses my face to unlock it. He scrolls through my contacts. When he sees my emergency contact, a cruel smirk spreads across his face. He presses dial. “Honey? What’s wrong?” The voice on the other end is my husband, Mark. As always, it’s soft and gentle. I try to scream, to warn him, but one of the bodyguards clamps a hand firmly over my mouth, silencing me. “Are you Sienna’s husband?” Donovan asks, his tone dripping with contempt. “Who is this?” Mark’s voice sharpens instantly, laced with alarm at hearing a strange man on my line. Donovan looks directly at me, his eyes full of malicious intent. “I’m Sienna’s ex,” he says. “But don’t worry, I’m a married man now. I have zero interest in her.” Mark is silent for a beat. “Then why are you calling me from her phone?” “No reason, really. Just thought you should know a few things about your lovely wife.” “Her private life is… a disaster. When we were together, she was constantly sneaking around behind my back with other men.” “It disgusted me, so I broke it off.” “For years now, she’s been surviving by sucking my wife dry. She ‘borrows’ our condo to cheat, she’s addicted to gambling, and she makes my wife max out my credit cards to pay her debts.” “You probably don’t know this, but your wife also moonlights as a homewrecker. She got beaten up by the other woman just last month.” “And last week? She went to some back-alley clinic for a… tune-up. Hymen restoration surgery. Had my wife sit with her in the hospital. Now, you tell me, why would a married woman need to ‘restore’ her virginity? Which one of her lovers is she planning to give that ‘first time’ to?” “Doesn’t it embarrass you, being married to someone so filthy?” “Honestly, it’s pathetic for a man to live like you do. All those green hats you’re wearing every day must be heavy. If I were you, I’d have killed myself by now.” Donovan’s verbal barrage is relentless, grinding my reputation into dust. On the other end of the line, there is only a long, heavy silence from Mark. Mark and I had a good marriage. He’s an honest, kind man, always gentle and patient with me. No matter how big our fights were, he would always be the one to soothe things over, to talk it through. But this time, it seems Donovan’s words have struck him dumb. He doesn’t have a single thing to say. Donovan hangs up, a triumphant look on his face. “Well? Are you going to tell me where Cassie is now?” The bodyguard removes his hand from my mouth. “Breaking and entering, false imprisonment, assault, slander… those are all crimes, you know,” I spit out, glaring at him. I wish my eyes were daggers; I would have torn this fool to shreds. My defiance only fuels his rage. “Crimes? I’ll show you what a real crime looks like!” He turns to his bodyguards. “Trash this place!” On his command, they begin to systematically destroy my apartment. Within minutes, my neat and tidy home is a wasteland of splintered wood and shattered glass. Not a single thing is left intact. I bite down hard. “Donovan, you act like you’re above the law. Do you really have no fear of consequences?” He scoffs, his face a mask of disdain. “The only one facing consequences here is a gold-digging leech like you. Do you have any idea how much money you’ve conned out of Cassie over the years? Everything in this apartment was bought with her money. I’m just breaking my own things. What’s the problem?” He speaks with such conviction, as if he’s not committing a felony but righteously punishing a sinner. I glance at the time. Less than half an hour until Cassie’s miscarriage. The show is about to begin. Suppressing my own fury, I look at Donovan with a playful smirk. “Why don’t we wait a little longer? I have a feeling your wife will be in touch with you very soon.” My nonchalant attitude infuriates him further. “Still trying to be clever? Fine. Today, I’ll make sure your name is ruined forever!” “Take her outside!” His men drag me out of my apartment and down to the building’s main entrance. The commotion quickly draws the attention of neighbors and passersby. Seeing a crowd gathering, Donovan seizes the opportunity. He begins to loudly broadcast my supposed ‘sins’ for all to hear. In moments, I am surrounded by a circle of pointing fingers and judgmental stares. “That’s just disgusting. A grown woman, sucking her pregnant cousin dry. She’s practically trying to kill her! That cousin must be a saint to put up with it. If it were me, I’d have kicked her to the curb years ago!” “She’s the classic vampire relative. Can’t stand to see you poor, but hates it when you’re rich. Lazy, greedy, just takes and takes. My wife’s cousin was just like that, ran her into massive debt. She’s still on antidepressants.” “That kind of woman is a parasite. Whoever gets close to her is doomed!” “And she’s dirty! She has a husband, but she’s out sleeping with models and breaking up marriages. Living in the same building as a public bus like her is just bad luck.” The crowd’s vitriol flies at me from all directions, painting me as a monster. Donovan looks down at me, a sneer on his face. “Well? Are you going to keep being stubborn?” He thinks he has me, that he’s broken me. He’s just waiting for me to beg. I let out a cold laugh. “Is this the best a billionaire can do? A few neighbors yelling at me? What’s that going to accomplish? I can just move. If you really want to ruin me, you should call some influencers, get me on a livestream. That’s how you make someone infamous.” Donovan’s face darkens, his jaw clenching. “Fine. You asked for it.” He pulls out his phone and makes another call. My heart beats faster, not with fear, but with anticipation. Go on. Make a scene. Make it as big as possible. I want the whole world to watch when the scandal of your perfect little family finally breaks. 3 Donovan’s influence was undeniable. Within minutes, a swarm of influencers and livestreamers descended on the scene, each holding a phone up to my face. “You guys are not gonna believe this! The woman you’re looking at right now, she might look simple on the outside, but inside, she is completely rotten!” “For years, she’s been living like a parasite on her cousin. When she needs money, she just asks. Her cousin is pregnant, but this woman still treats her like a personal servant, making her run errands, go shopping, even pick her up from bars when she’s blackout drunk.” “And does she show any gratitude? No. She just spends more and more, making her cousin pay for everything. She scammed money from her, took over their condo to entertain her boy toys, and even maxed out her cousin’s credit card to pay off her own massive gambling debts!” “But that’s not the worst of it. This woman’s personal life is a cesspool. She has a husband, but she’s constantly cheating. Besides the guys she keeps in the condo, she has countless others on the side. She has no conscience. She knowingly became a homewrecker, and even after getting beaten up by the wife, she went to a clinic to get a ‘virginity restoration’ surgery so she could pretend to be innocent and trick more men. I heard she’s been treated for syphilis no less than ten times. I have never seen a woman so filthy; it’s like she’ll die if she goes a single day without a man.” The streamers embellished and exaggerated, piling on fabricated sins until I was buried beneath them. The live chat feeds scrolled furiously with hate: “OMG, her cousin and husband are so unlucky to have this shameless bitch in their lives!” “Jesus, you can’t even call her a woman. She’s a walking plague!” “Seriously, people like her are just a menace to society.” The story went viral. In an instant, my face was all over the internet. “The Vampire Cousin,” “The Toxic Leech,” “Public Bus”—these became my new names. Fueled by the streamers’ sensationalism, the mood of the crowd grew uglier. They started throwing eggs and rotten vegetables at me. Someone from a nearby restaurant hurled a beer bottle that shattered at my feet. I felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter, standing in a pile of garbage, enduring a storm of insults. Suddenly, a figure pushed through the dense crowd. It was Mark. Seeing his familiar face, my lonely, besieged heart felt like it had finally found a safe harbor. For me, Mark had always been my rock. No matter what troubles I faced outside, he was the one who would patiently comfort me, who would solve all my problems. He was my husband, but more than that, he was my sanctuary. In that moment, all I wanted was to collapse into his arms. I let down all my defenses and walked toward him. But just as I reached for him, he shoved me away, hard. Caught off guard, I lost my balance and fell backward onto the ground. The shards of the broken beer bottle dug deep into my palms and legs. A sharp, searing pain shot through me, but the pain in my heart was a thousand times worse. Even Mark… even he didn’t believe me? “Sienna, I can’t believe you’re this kind of person,” he said, his face a dark mask of disappointment. “For all the years we’ve been married, I treated you like a treasure. I gave you everything you wanted. I never once lost my temper with you, never let you suffer a single moment of hardship.” “When you were sick, I learned to cook nourishing meals to nurse you back to health. I made sure you were warm, made sure you were safe. I was so afraid of you ever being unhappy.” “And what did you do?” “You went behind my back to drain your cousin, to gamble, to throw away your own dignity and our reputation!” “The body I worked so hard to care for, you threw it into the gutter with those disgusting, filthy acts!” “Sienna, you’re not just debasing yourself, you’re trampling on our marriage!” Mark, who had always been so gentle, was completely unhinged. He was screaming, every word dripping with profound disappointment. Seeing him like this twisted something inside me. I pushed myself up, ignoring the pain. “Mark, I…” Before I could finish, he slapped me across the face. “Shut up! Don’t you dare say my name. You don’t deserve to!” With that, he twisted the wedding band off his finger and threw it at my face. “I want a divorce!” His cold, merciless rejection was the final blow. That single slap shattered the last pillar of faith I had. I stood there, frozen, feeling like my soul had been ripped from my body. Donovan took the opportunity to sneer at me. “How does it feel, Sienna? To be utterly disgraced? A greedy, filthy woman like you who only knows how to seduce men doesn’t deserve anyone’s love. And you certainly didn’t deserve Cassie’s kindness.” “Thank God I saw you for what you are and got away from a disgusting parasite like you. The fact that I ever dated you is the greatest shame of my life.” “The only good thing you ever did was bring a wonderful woman like Cassie to me. Now, you can enjoy the rest of your life being despised by everyone. I’ll make sure Cassie never speaks to you again. Let’s see how you survive without her!” Donovan’s words resonated with the crowd. The live chats, the onlookers, the streamers—they all erupted in a fresh wave of condemnation. The weight of a thousand accusations is a terrifying thing. Even though I had prepared myself for this, I could feel myself starting to break. Just then, Donovan’s phone rang. The caller ID read: Cassie. He answered, and through the speaker, we all heard Cassie’s broken sobs. “Honey… I… I lost the baby!” Donovan’s eyes instantly turned bloodshot. “What happened?” Cassie’s voice was hesitant. “It was Sienna! She was messing around with a bunch of male models. I just tried to talk some sense into her, and… and she pushed me. She made me lose our baby!”

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The day my dad got out of prison, the first thing he did was try to sweet-talk my mom. “Brenda, look,” he said, his voice low and coaxing. “I’m not gonna get mad. You just gotta tell me the truth. Did you… see anyone while I was away? You know I wasn’t an angel before I went in. It’s no big deal. Four years is a long time. A woman’s got needs. I can handle it.” Hearing those words, my blood ran cold. I rushed over, ready to run interference for my mom, to whisper in her ear to deny everything, no matter what. I’d seen what happened to Mrs. Henderson down the hall. After she confessed to her husband that she’d had an affair, you could hear the screaming through the thin apartment walls. We’d see her later with bruises she tried to hide with cheap concealer, a haunted look in her eyes. My dad was an ex-con. He was ten times more brutal than Mr. Henderson could ever dream of being. In that life, my mom listened to me. She denied everything. But years later, she turned on me, her face twisted with resentment. “This is all your fault, Jenna,” she spat. “You and your bright idea to keep my mouth shut. Now I’m stuck here, miserable, while the men I was with are all doing great. One of them owns his own construction company! But no, I get to live with the guilt, tied to a damn jailbird for the rest of my life!” In her rage, she shoved me. We were on the balcony of our eighth-floor apartment. She pushed me right over the edge. Later, she told the police I’d jumped. That I was being cyberbullied over some boy at school and couldn’t handle it. Now, I’m opening my eyes, and I’m back. Back on the day he came home. I don’t step in to save her. Instead, when my dad turns his questioning eyes on me, I stutter and look at the floor. “Mom… Mom told me not to tell anyone about the uncles who came over,” I mumbled. “I don’t know anything else.” 1 “Jenna, tell me straight. While I was gone, did any other ‘uncles’ come by to see your mom?” His voice, rough and familiar, pulled me back from the void. His face was too close, his breath smelling of stale cigarettes. I knew, with a jolt that made my heart hammer against my ribs, that I was back. He had just started his interrogation, and this time, it was aimed at me. “Jenna? What’s wrong with you?” he pressed. “Did they, or didn’t they? Just tell me.” I took a shaky breath and delivered the line I’d prepared in a past life. “Mom told me not to tell anyone about the uncles who came over,” I whispered. “I don’t know anything else.” His eyes narrowed. “What did they do? Did they… hug your mom or something?” I pretended to think hard, my expression blank, giving him just enough to keep him digging. “They came over for dinner a lot. They brought us groceries. One of them used to hold my hand and say he was gonna marry me when I grew up.” His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. The look on his face had already turned dark. He asked more questions, but I just shook my head and clammed up, playing the part of the scared, confused kid. I didn’t want my mom to have any reason to blame me later. He handed me a crisp hundred-dollar bill. A reward. As I watched him sink into the sagging armchair, his expression shifting from suspicion to barely contained rage, the reality of my second chance finally sunk in. I clutched the money, my gaze turning to ice. This time, Mom, you’re on your own. Let’s see how you handle this. 2 That night, I lingered by their bedroom door. Just like before, I heard my dad’s voice, slick with fake understanding. “Brenda, I’m serious. I won’t get mad,” he was saying. “You know that whole assault charge was bogus. That girl just got pissed I wouldn’t pay her what she wanted. So, if you did something… I get it. Four years is a long time. You must’ve been lonely, right?” My hands started to tremble. This was the exact moment. In my first life, I’d heard this and burst in, making up an excuse to get my dad out of the room before desperately convincing my mom to keep her mouth shut. I’d used the story of Mrs. Henderson to scare her straight. No one else knew the full extent of the beatings, but my bedroom window had a direct view of theirs. My mom, terrified, had heeded my warning. The next time my dad tried to bait her, she’d flown into a rage. “Rick, what the hell is wrong with you?” she had screamed. “You think because you screw around, I do too? I was too busy trying to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table to even think about another man! Maybe if you weren’t such a scumbag, you wouldn’t assume everyone else is!” He’d actually believed her. After that, no men came around. To make up for his suspicion, and maybe his guilt, he actually cleaned up his act. He got a steady job, stopped running around, and for a few years, things got better. We even bought a house. I thought I’d made the right choice. Then, just before my high school graduation, she snapped. “You must be so proud of yourself, Jenna,” she’d sneered. “Making sure your perfect little family stayed together. Did you ever stop to think how miserable I was? The men I was with are all successful now. And what do I have? A lifetime of regret with an ex-con. This is all your fault. You ruined my life!” And then she pushed me. This time, there would be no rescue. Let her learn for herself what Mrs. Henderson already knew. 3 Without me bursting in, my mom’s voice trembled under my dad’s persuasion. At first, she denied it instinctively. “Rick, what are you talking about? I would never do something like that.” But he kept at it, a master manipulator weaving threats and promises together. “If you did, just tell me. We’ll put it behind us and move on. But if I find out on my own… well, you know what happens then.” A few seconds of silence, and then she broke. “Oh, Rick,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was like you said, I was so lonely… but it was more than that. I was all alone with two kids, trying to make ends meet. The pressure… it was too much. They helped us. I don’t know how I would’ve survived without them. You… you really forgive me?” The air went still. A full minute passed. My mom’s voice rose in panic. “Rick? Honey? What’s wrong? You said you’d forgive me if I told the truth.” My dad’s voice was low and heavy, thick with suppressed fury. “‘They’? So it wasn’t just one. Who were they? How many? Tell me everything, and then I’ll forgive you.” 4 She was in too deep to stop now. “Three,” she whispered. “Two you know—Mark and Leo. The other one… his name is Eric.” “And how did you manage that, with the kids around?” he pressed. She hesitated. “When they were at school… they’d come to the house. Sometimes we’d get a hotel room. But they always gave me money, Rick! It wasn’t for free! I was doing it to provide for the kids…” Her voice trailed off. “You’re not mad, are you? You promised you’d forgive me. Now that you’re back, I’ll cut them all off. I swear. It’ll just be us.” He didn’t answer. The silence stretched on again, heavy and menacing. Then, his voice came, cold and demonic. “You really think I can just ‘move on’ after you let not one, not two, but three different men in our bed? You forget why I went away? You forget what I did to that bitch who accused me?” My mom finally understood. She’d walked right into his trap. “You were lying,” she choked out. “You were tricking me! You bastard, Rick! You’re a monster!” CRACK. The sound of his hand hitting her cheek echoed through the door, followed by his cold, cruel laugh. “I knew you couldn’t keep your legs closed. But three of them… that’s impressive. You know, I’ve always wondered about Kevin. Tell me the truth, Brenda. Is he my son? Or does he belong to one of them?” 5 I froze outside the door. This was new. I never knew my dad had suspected Kevin wasn’t his. My brother, Kevin, was two years younger than me and spoiled rotten by my mom. He treated me like dirt, always using my mom’s favoritism to his advantage. He was there, on the balcony, the night she killed me. He didn’t push me, but he didn’t stop her, either. And when the police questioned him, he backed up her story, telling them I jumped. He and my mom were a united front. I hadn’t seen him since I came back, but now, hearing my dad’s suspicion, a memory surfaced. Leo. Every time Leo came over, he wasn’t just all over my mom; he was all over Kevin. He’d slip him twenty-dollar bills, buy him new sneakers, treat him like a prince. I never got a thing. Mark and Eric couldn’t have cared less about us kids. A cold certainty washed over me. Kevin was Leo’s son. I had to tell my dad. Someday. Another sharp crack from inside the room. “I said, is Kevin my son!” “Rick, you’ve lost your mind in there!” my mom shrieked. “You get out and you immediately accuse me and your son? You can doubt me, but not Kevin! You were there when he was born, you watched him grow up! Who else’s would he be? You were the one cheating back then, not me!” 6 Her denial was fierce, but my dad just went quiet again. I was about to walk away when I heard his voice, dead and flat. “Take off your clothes.” “What? Rick, what are you doing?” I heard the distinct sound of a leather belt being unbuckled. “Rick, don’t you dare,” my mom pleaded, her voice shaking with fear. “Even if we’re married, this is assault! It’s illegal!” He just laughed, a sound devoid of any humor. Then came the sickening thwack of the leather. “After you’ve been with God knows how many men? You think I still want you? Don’t flatter yourself,” he sneered. “I recorded everything you just said on my phone. You call the cops, it’s a he-said, she-said domestic dispute. And what happens when I send this little recording to all your friends and family?” Another lash, and she screamed in pain. “Rick! How could you hit me? I’m calling the police!” “You think I’d let you?” he growled. “You’re never calling anyone again. If you even try, I’ll kill Kevin.” That did it. The fight went out of her. She started begging, sobbing for forgiveness. “Rick, please, I’m sorry! Kevin is your son, he’s your son, I swear! If you have to doubt someone… then fine! I’ll tell you the truth! Jenna isn’t yours! She’s Leo’s daughter!” 7 Outside the door, the world tilted. A wave of rage and nausea washed over me, so intense I nearly passed out. It didn’t matter if it was this life or the last one. When backed into a corner, she would always, always throw me to the wolves to save her precious son. Was I even her daughter? At this point, I didn’t care whose DNA I had. What mother could be this cruel? Fine. If she wanted to play that game, then the gloves were off. I remembered now. The way Mark, another of her lovers, used to stare at me, his eyes lingering too long. How he’d find excuses to touch my hand. My mom saw it. And instead of stopping him, she’d smiled at him like she was showing off a prize pig. “Our Jenna, she’s only a pre-teen, but she’s already blossoming, isn’t she?” she’d cooed. “Some boy is going to be very lucky one day.” Mark’s eyes had lit up. “Well, I’m too old to be that lucky boy,” he’d chuckled, his gaze slimy. “But you know, when she’s legal, maybe I could be her first… show her the ropes?” My mom had giggled. “Of course! What a lucky girl she’d be!” She wasn’t just my mother. She was my pimp. “What? Jenna is Leo’s daughter?” My dad’s roar snapped me back to the present. I didn’t wait to hear more. I ran out of the apartment and found Kevin playing video games on his phone at the park across the street. “Kevin, come quick!” I yelled. “Dad is beating Mom!” 8 He shot up and started running, but I grabbed his arm. “Wait! We’re just kids, we can’t stop him! Call Uncle Leo! He’s the only one strong enough!” He didn’t question it. He frantically dialed Leo’s number, then sprinted toward our building. I let him go first, staying a few steps behind. When Kevin kicked open the bedroom door, we both froze. Well, I was less shocked. I’d seen a naked, beaten woman before. It was just my mom this time instead of Mrs. Henderson. Kevin, however, looked like he’d been struck by lightning. When he finally found his voice, he launched himself between them, shielding my mom. “Dad, what are you doing to her?” he screamed. “You abandoned us for years, and now you come back and do this? She raised us by herself! Are you crazy?” My dad’s eyes were bloodshot with rage. “She cheated on me, you little brat! Now get out of my way before I take this belt to you, too!” But Kevin stood his ground, glaring at our father with pure hatred. If I hadn’t been betrayed and murdered by my mother, maybe I would have done the same thing. But now, I just watched, cold and detached. I saw the belt rise, ready to fall on my brother. My mom shrieked. “Rick, he’s your son! If you touch him, I’ll never forgive you! He’ll grow up, and you’ll get old. You think he won’t make you pay for this?” For a second, my dad hesitated. Kevin seized the opportunity. “That’s right! You hit me, and you’re a dead man when I’m older!” Big mistake. My dad had spent four years in a place where threats were the only language spoken. He brought the belt down hard. Kevin screamed, a high-pitched wail of pain. “It hurts!” A sick sense of pleasure bloomed in my chest. Good. That was a tiny bit of payment for the agony of my fall. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close. I glanced at my watch. Leo should be here any second. The real show was about to begin. A minute later, Leo burst through the front door, his face pale with panic. “Jenna, where’s your brother?” I pointed silently toward the bedroom. “You better hurry. Dad’s hitting him, too.” His eyes went wide with fury, and he charged into the room. “Rick, you son of a bitch, stop!” 9 I followed him to the doorway and watched his face go from rage to stunned disbelief. He’d expected a fight, not this. Not Brenda, naked and bleeding on the floor. His eyes lingered on her body for a second too long, a flicker of something—pity, desire, anger—flashing across his face before he flushed a deep red. My dad saw it too. His rage intensified. “What’s the matter, Leo?” he sneered. “Does it hurt to see your whore getting what she deserves?” Leo tore his eyes away and saw Kevin cowering on the floor. He rushed over, putting himself between them and my father. “Rick, have you lost your mind? I’m calling the cops! They’ll lock you up again!” He pulled out his phone, but my dad’s belt lashed out, sending it flying across the room. “Go ahead, call them,” my dad challenged. “Brenda already confessed everything. Sleeping with my wife while I was locked up, making me raise another man’s kid. You really want to call the cops? Don’t you have a wife and kids of your own, Leo? You ready for that scandal?” Leo froze, his face ashen. He glanced at my mom, who just sobbed and hid her face. There was no point in denying it. He tried to cut his losses. “Rick, don’t be crazy,” he said, his voice strained. “Jenna’s not my kid.” My dad watched him, a predator enjoying the game. “So you admit you were sleeping with Brenda?” Trapped, Leo’s demeanor shifted from fear to defiance. “Yeah, I was. So what? She was all alone, struggling. I felt sorry for her. And you—you got no room to talk, man. Look in the damn mirror before you start pointing fingers at her. You think a woman is gonna stay faithful for four years to a piece of trash like you? Get real.” My dad was momentarily stunned by his audacity. Then, with a roar, he swung the belt at Leo. “You sleep with my wife in my house and you dare to lecture me? You made me raise your daughter for ten years, you bastard!” 10 Leo glanced at me in the doorway, and a look of relief crossed his face. As long as my dad thought I was his daughter, Kevin was safe. His secret was safe. But I wasn’t going to let that happen. I stepped into the room, my voice clear and cold, cutting through the chaos. “Dad,” I said, meeting his wild eyes. “I’m not Uncle Leo’s daughter.” I let the silence hang for a beat, then turned and pointed a steady finger at my brother. “He is.”

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