Category: English

The text message arrived twelve hours into a marathon artificial heart transplant with Dr. Evan Maxwell. It was from his fiancée, Isabelle Croft, and it was the start of a storm. “Dr. Reed, Evan hasn’t answered me in ten minutes. I miss him so much.” “You two are together, aren’t you? Can you send me a picture of him?” I glanced at the sterile instrument tray, everything laid out and ready. I spared one-ten-thousandth of my focus to reply. “Ms. Croft, Dr. Maxwell is in his final pre-op consultation. All phones have been secured.” A few minutes later, a voice message. “I knew it. You’re together. The only reason you won’t send a picture is because you have something to hide.” I hadn’t even finished pulling on my last pair of sterile gloves. I ignored it and prepared to enter the OR. The next second, my phone rang. I declined the call. A text immediately followed. “You little bitch. I knew you were seducing him. How many times have you two slept together?” “No wonder Evan won’t touch me anymore. He’s already had his fill with you.” The surgical suite doors hissed open. My patience, already worn thin, finally snapped. “Ms. Croft,” I said, my voice low and clipped, “Dr. Maxwell and I are colleagues. Nothing more. I have zero interest in him.” I sealed my phone in my locker, figuring that would be the end of it. I was wrong. Just as the surgery reached its most critical phase, Isabelle Croft, flanked by two imposing bodyguards, smashed the glass of the operating room’s observation window. She was screaming, a wild, frantic sound from the other side of the broken pane. 1 “Anna Reed, you shameless bitch! Get the hell out here!” Evan’s hand jerked. The micro-suture needle, stitching the artificial heart to the aorta, came perilously close to piercing the arterial wall. A single millimeter further and the patient would have died instantly on the table. “Security! Get her out of here. Now.” I didn’t have time to look at him, and I certainly didn’t have time to look at the lunatic shattering hospital property. My world narrowed to the heart on the table, waiting for its final, life-giving sutures. “Evan, I’ll do it.” Before he could answer, I reached out and took the needle holder from his trembling fingers. My hands moved with a speed that was a full thirty percent faster than Evan’s on his best day. We had practiced this procedure hundreds of times; every motion was etched into my muscle memory. Beyond the sterile field, the chaos was a boiling pot of noise—Isabelle’s curses, security guards shouting. And here I was, in the eye of the storm, stitching a new beginning onto a dying heart. When the final suture was clipped, the data on the monitor was as steady as a mountain range. The surgery was a success. I set down my instruments, and my legs gave out. I nearly collapsed. Evan caught me. The OR doors slid open. Outside, Isabelle was pinned between two massive security guards, but her fury hadn’t dimmed. Seeing Evan holding me up, the venom in her eyes intensified. “Spit.” A glob of saliva flew through the air. I twisted my head aside, and it hit the wall behind me. “Anna Reed. You slept your way to the top, you piece of trash. You’re seducing him right in front of me.” Evan stepped between us, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Isabelle, that’s enough. Anna is my colleague. We’ve done nothing wrong.” “Nothing wrong?” she shrieked. “Evan, you’re yelling at me for her? If you’ve done nothing wrong, then why did you spend the entire night with her two days ago?” Her gaze, filled with pure hatred, locked onto me. “Tell me, Anna. How many condoms did you two use that night? Did you wear him out so much he couldn’t even bother to come home?” I was too tired to even lift my eyelids. “Ms. Croft, I have no interest in your fiancé,” I said, my voice flat. “The only reason we were together was to run the final simulations for this procedure.” “As for how many condoms we used,” I paused, finally meeting her gaze. “I suggest you book a consultation with a plastic surgeon. After all, a woman who can’t even keep her own fiancé interested should probably be more concerned with her own face and body than having a meltdown in a hospital hallway. Don’t you think?” Isabelle’s face turned a shade of mottled purple. She screamed and tried to lunge, but the guards held her fast. It was at that precise moment my boyfriend, Mark, arrived to pick me up. And it was at that precise moment Isabelle dropped to the floor, grabbing Mark’s pant leg with the desperation of a drowning woman. “Sir! Help me! Please, save my love!” she sobbed. “This woman… she’s trying to steal my husband! She’s put a spell on him with her scalpel! Please, make her stop! Make her leave us alone!” Mark was completely stunned. He took a half-step back, trying to shake her off. The look he gave me was suddenly complex and utterly foreign. Evan, his face a grim mask, rushed forward to pull Isabelle away. She slapped him across the face. “You’re still protecting her!” Watching the absurd, theatrical scene unfold, I grabbed Mark’s hand and walked away. On the drive home, I told him everything. The harassing calls, the vile accusations. He listened in silence. When we parked in front of our building, he killed the engine and pulled me into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he whispered into my hair. “I’m so sorry I was late. You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.” Tucked safely in his arms, the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours finally broke through, and I cried. Back home, I had just finished my shower when my phone buzzed. It was a picture from Isabelle. It was a photo of her in a wedding gown, photoshopped over an image of Evan and me at the operating table. My face was obscured by a giant, crudely drawn red X. Beneath it, a single line of text. “I’m the bride.” “You’re just a sacrifice at my wedding.” I looked at the pathetic, vicious image and typed back two words. “Get help.” Then I blocked her number and deleted the conversation. The next day, I arrived at the hospital on time, ready for work. But my name was gone from the surgical schedule. Not only that, I’d been removed from the cardiothoracic department’s core surgical team entirely. A new assignment notification popped up on my computer: administrative duty. I was to organize and archive old medical files. For a surgeon, it was the ultimate insult. The department head called me into his office. His expression was grim as he pushed a letter across his desk. “Anna, the hospital received a formal, signed complaint against you.” I picked it up. The complainant, identifying as a patient’s family member, accused me of having a terrible attitude during pre-op consultations and demanding cash bribes. Even more absurd, the letter claimed I had leaked Dr. Maxwell’s private schedule to the paparazzi, leading to his being harassed. At the end of the letter were several screenshots of faked chat logs. Every word was meticulously crafted to paint me as a manipulative, unethical gold digger. I knew instantly it was Isabelle’s handiwork. The so-called “patient’s family member” didn’t exist. Evan found out soon enough. He stormed into the dean’s office, arguing passionately on my behalf. But he had no proof. His defense was meaningless against their manufactured evidence. The hospital’s final decision: I was suspended, pending a full investigation. My ID and access card were confiscated on the spot. As I walked out of the office, I instinctively reached for my phone to call Mark. The screen lit up with a new message before I could dial. It was a video from him. Someone had edited together clips of the surgery. Every glance Evan and I shared, every time our hands brushed while passing an instrument, was now in slow motion. It was set to the most saccharine, suggestive music imaginable, with lines of lewd text scrolling across the screen. A life-or-death race against the clock had been twisted into a cheap, dirty movie. Before I could even process it, a second message came through. “Anna, what do you have to say for yourself?” “We’ve been together for ten years. I gave up a fellowship abroad for you. Is this how you repay me?” The cold accusation felt like a knife in my chest. My hands trembled as I tried to type a reply. “I’m being framed, Mark. You have to believe me…” But before I could hit send, a bright red exclamation point appeared next to his name. One final message flashed on the screen. “We’re done.” Then, he blocked me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Ten years of my life, and I wasn’t even worth a single conversation. As I stood on the sidewalk, lost and hollowed out, a red Porsche pulled up to the curb. Isabelle rolled down the window, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Did you like my little film, Anna? Your boyfriend was even easier to convince than I expected.” “You know, all it took was one video from a burner account and a few suggestive messages, and he completely folded,” she purred. “He said you’ve been so cold to him lately. He knew you must have found someone else.” “The star of your own dirty movie, Anna Reed. See how beautiful I made you look? Every pore just screaming with desire.”

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The day our daughter turned five, my wife’s lover, Julian, posted a photo on Instagram. It was of him and my wife, Claire, lying in bed together. The caption read: *“The little one was crying for his mom before bed, and supermom dropped everything to be here.”* The woman in the picture, the “supermom,” was my wife. I glanced at the text she’d sent me just ten minutes earlier: *[Something came up at the office. Don’t wait up for me and Lily.]* I liked the post. Then I called my divorce lawyer. *** Claire didn’t get home until two in the morning. The sudden glare of the hallway light made me instinctively shield our daughter’s eyes. Claire leaned against the doorframe, her voice a low murmur. “Hey, I’m home. Let’s wake Lily up. I can still do the cake with her.” I used to be obsessed with those family rituals. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, every stupid parent-teacher conference at the preschool—I always insisted Claire be there. I didn’t want Lily to grow up like I did, seeing her mother mostly through a phone screen. But now… I straightened the comforter, my voice flat. “Don’t bother.” A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. “Ethan, I was just putting his son, Leo, to sleep. Don’t read into it.” She sighed, a sound heavy with accusation. “This is why I can’t be honest with you. You’re always so suspicious.” I wasn’t misinterpreting anything. And I wouldn’t be suspicious anymore. “If you’re done for the night, you should go to your own room. Don’t wake Lily. She has school tomorrow.” My response was met with a cold little laugh. “Fine. But don’t you dare say I’m an absent mother later.” I turned away and switched off the lamp, gently patting the back of our daughter, who had stirred from the noise. Absent? I didn’t care anymore. After all, Lily’s birthday wish this year, whispered over her single candle, had been: “I don’t want to see Mommy anymore.” The next morning, after breakfast, Claire did something unusual. Instead of heading straight for the door, she sat and watched the morning news. Just as I was getting Lily’s coat on, she stood up, grabbed her car keys, and walked over, ruffling Lily’s hair. “Mommy will take you to school today.” The words were for our daughter, but her eyes were locked on me. Two years ago, when Lily first started preschool, Claire drove her every single day. But after Julian came back into her life, she started leaving earlier and earlier. The excuse was always an early-morning board meeting. I believed her. I believed her right up until three months ago, when I was dropping off a forgotten lunchbox and saw her car parked across the street from the school. I saw Claire, the woman who was supposedly in a meeting, lean into the backseat and lift out a little boy. It wasn’t that she didn’t have time to take her own daughter to school. It was just that someone else was more important. We had a terrible fight that night. The next day, Lily stopped asking for her mom to take her. Even though I’d already made my decision, Claire was still Lily’s mother. I thought for a moment, then nodded. A small, triumphant smile played on her lips as she bent down and scooped Lily into her arms. But when I opened the passenger door of her Mercedes, I froze. The back seat was cluttered with someone else’s life. A Spider-Man water bottle, a wooden toy bow and arrow, a man’s blazer thrown carelessly across the leather. And behind the passenger headrest, hanging from a hook, was a framed “family photo.” Claire, Julian, and his son, Leo, smiling on a beach somewhere. She saw where I was looking. Her expression tightened. “Julian hung that there. He said it makes Leo happy when he’s in the car.” She gave me a warning look. “Don’t start a fight over something so small.” The old me would have. I would have ripped the picture down, thrown it out the window, and screamed at her, demanding to know what Lily and I even meant to her. But the new me just nodded. “It’s a nice picture.” She stared at me, her eyes filled with a strange confusion. “You’re not mad?” Mad? Maybe I should have been. But all I felt was a hollow echo, a strange desire to laugh. Did she really think I couldn’t see through such a clumsy, transparent power play? Or did she just not care? “We should get going,” I said, my voice even. “Lily’s going to be late.” Her lips thinned into a tight line as she walked around to the driver’s side. Just as I was about to buckle Lily in, Claire’s phone rang. The ringtone was a tinny version of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” A little boy’s frantic sobs came through the speaker. “Mommy! Mommy, where did you go? Did you leave me and Daddy?” Claire hung up. Without another glance at us, she got in the car and started the engine. “Leo’s having a meltdown. I have to go. The driver can take you today.” The black sedan sped away, leaving us in a cloud of exhaust. I worried about Lily, so I knelt down to her level. “Hey, Mommy had an emergency. Next time she’s free, we’ll all go together, okay?” Lily looked up at me with an unnerving maturity. “Mommy’s never going to be free, Daddy. All her time is for Leo and his dad.” *** That evening, Claire called. “Ethan, I’m going to be late again. Leo’s running a fever…” “Okay.” My quick agreement seemed to throw her off. Her practiced explanation caught in her throat. Assuming I was being passive-aggressive, her tone hardened with annoyance. “Ethan, don’t be childish.” Then she hung up. Ten minutes later, a series of texts came through. It was Julian. [Hey man, sorry about this. Leo’s been so clingy with his mom lately.] [But seriously, she shouldn’t have just bailed on you and Lily the second I called.] [I’ll talk to her about it. Don’t be mad, okay?] He finished it with a winking emoji. It wasn’t an apology; it was a victory lap. I had no interest in fighting him for her. I deleted the texts and blocked his number. A moment later, Claire called again, her voice sharp. “Ethan, what is your problem? Julian was trying to apologize to you. Why are you being like this?” In the background, I could hear a child’s faint whimpering and a man’s placating sighs. I didn’t say anything. After a long, tense silence, her voice, now cold and clear, came through the phone. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, Ethan. I’m so disappointed in you.” It was always the same. Julian would provoke me, and somehow, by the end of it, Claire would make it all my fault, as if I were the villain in her story. I went home and started packing. While Claire was on the phone lecturing me, I was on my laptop, messaging my lawyer. After the divorce, I was entitled to at least 30% of her company’s stock, which I’d been granted during our marriage. And while courts often favor the mother, Lily didn’t want to live with Claire anymore. A judge would listen to that. My last hesitation was gone. Clothes, watches, Lily’s favorite stuffed animals. All of it went into boxes. As I sealed the last one, my hands brushed against an old, dusty wooden chest under our bed. My fingers trembled slightly as I broke the wax seal. It was full of letters. From Claire, ages seventeen to twenty-two. I picked up the one on top. It began: *To my Ethan, age twenty-seven. This is your Claire, age seventeen.* *This is the first letter in our ten-year box. As we planned, we’ll open this together on the anniversary of our first date.* *By now, I know we’re married. Maybe we even have a beautiful little kid.* My phone rang. It was the Claire of today, her voice frantic and accusing. “Ethan! Julian took Leo and left! Did you know about this? If anything happens to them, I will never forgive you!” My eyes fell to the last line of the letter in my hands. *Love forever, your Claire.* A sharp pain, like a piece of glass in my chest, made me flinch. Something inside me quietly shattered. I hung up the phone and threw the entire chest into the fireplace. *** Claire didn’t come home that night. I didn’t call her a hundred times, begging her to come back, promising I’d stop making things difficult for Julian. And Lily didn’t ask about her mother once. She just quietly took the framed photo of her and Claire from her nightstand and packed it in her own small suitcase. We were in a silent standoff. It lasted a week, until Lily’s preschool sent home a field trip permission slip that required a parent’s digital signature, verified through a corporate security login I didn’t have. I tried calling Claire, only to find she’d blocked my number. Left with no choice, I took the tablet and drove to her office. I hadn’t been waiting long in the lobby when I saw a familiar figure bypass the front desk and head straight for Claire’s office. The executive assistant glanced at me apologetically. “Mr. Thorne… Ms. Rhodes gave instructions that Julian is allowed in her office at any time.” That little privilege was, ironically, my fault. Back when I still tried, I used to bring Claire lunch every day. We’d sit and talk for an hour. One time, Julian showed up, but the assistant at the time, following protocol, made him wait. By the time Claire and I finished, Julian and his son were shivering in the lobby. That was the first time Claire ever truly lost her temper with me. She screamed at me, saying my daily visits were a waste of her valuable time. The assistant who had stopped Julian was fired. From that day on, everyone in the company knew who Claire’s priority was. I never came back. I gave the assistant a tight smile and walked toward the office. The door was ajar. Claire was in a meeting, but she saw me. “What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised. Julian was perched on the armrest of her high-backed leather chair, their bodies so close they were almost touching. She followed my gaze and then looked away, a defensive edge to her voice. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Ethan. Julian just happens to know a few things about this project, so…” I just nodded and held out the tablet. “Lily’s field trip. It needs your signature.” “You came all the way here just for that?” “Why else would I come?” The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. I knew Claire well enough to know she was in a foul mood, though I couldn’t tell why. Julian let out a soft chuckle. “He’s just using it as an excuse to see you, Claire. It’s his way of making up.” He looked at her pointedly. “You’ve been staying at my place all week. You should probably go home and see Lily.” The tension in Claire’s shoulders eased. She tossed the tablet onto the coffee table and gave me a smirk. “So now you’re using our daughter as a pawn, Ethan? How pathetic.” She leaned back. “Apologize to Julian. Otherwise, I’m not signing it.” A year ago, those words would have enraged me. Now, I felt nothing. No anger toward her, or toward him. All I could think was that if I didn’t get this signed, Lily would miss the trip to the zoo, and she would be devastated. I looked at Claire, then at Julian, still lounging possessively on her chair. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the office. I’d just have to tell the school that Lily didn’t have a mother. I hadn’t made it ten feet when a smooth, calm voice stopped me. “Mr. Thorne? If you don’t mind, perhaps I can help.” It was one of the women from the meeting. She was dressed in a sharp, black sheath dress, her expression cool and observant. “After all,” she added with a wry twist of her lips, “I feel like I’ve been an unwilling audience to your family drama for some time now.” I just handed her the tablet. The authorization went through instantly. On the signature line, in elegant cursive, was a name: *Sloane Covington.* *** The divorce papers were drafted. I texted Claire, telling her she needed to come home that night. When I went to pick Lily up from her preschool, Claire’s Mercedes was already parked out front. The passenger window was down, revealing Julian’s smug face. “Well, well, Ethan. Picking up the kid?” He looked my simple wool coat up and down. “This is a pretty exclusive school, you know. Still wearing last year’s coat? Aren’t you afraid of embarrassing your daughter?” I ignored him and moved a few feet away. Julian’s face fell, and he turned to Claire in the driver’s seat. “Claire, did I say something wrong? I think I made him angry.” For once, Claire didn’t respond. She was staring at my coat, her expression unreadable. Her voice was stiff. “Ethan, it’s cold out. Just get in the car.” I moved further away. I don’t know when it happened, but the distance between us had become a canyon. Even a simple offer of warmth sounded forced, like an obligation. Just then, a commotion broke out in the line of kids waiting. Two of them were shoving each other. One of them was Lily. I ran over and pulled them apart. The other child, I now realized, was Julian’s son, Leo. The moment he saw me, he froze, then promptly sat on the ground and began to wail. “Waaah! That man pushed me! It hurts!” Claire and Julian rushed over. Julian scooped his son up, glaring at me. “Ethan, I know you don’t like me, but you don’t take it out on a child. They were just playing. You didn’t have to get violent.” Claire was looking at me with disapproval, too, as if she’d completely forgotten which child was hers. The teacher looked mortified. “Mr. Thorne, Mr. Vance… the children were arguing. They both saw Ms. Rhodes and started shouting that she was their mother. It… escalated.” The entire pickup line of Upper East Side parents was now watching us. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. “What a mess. Two kids fighting over one mom? Must be the wife and the mistress.” “That woman looks rich. Maybe the little girl is just lying to look important.” “Taught to be a gold digger at that age? What kind of parents does she have?” Leo was still crying, his arms wrapped tightly around Claire’s neck, chanting “Mommy, Mommy.” And Lily… she just stood there, her small hand gripping mine, her eyes fixed on Claire, not blinking. Another child piped up, “Ma’am, who’s your real kid? You have to tell us! The one who’s lying has to say sorry!” Claire opened her mouth. “I’m Li—” At that exact moment, Julian gently took her hand. His eyes were wide with a silent, desperate plea. I knew in that instant. She was wavering. Just like all the other times, the second Julian needed her, my daughter and I became her second choice. I gritted my teeth, my voice a low warning. “Claire. Your answer right now will affect Lily for the rest of her life. Think very carefully before you speak.” Her body went rigid. Her eyes were downcast, her expression veiled. Then, in a voice quiet but clear enough for everyone to hear, she said, “I’m Leo’s mother.” She looked at Lily. “I think you’re mistaken, little girl.” My heart seized, a physical blow that almost buckled my knees. This was our daughter. Our Lily. The judgment from the other parents was immediate and harsh. “That little girl needs to apologize for lying. And for hitting her son!” “No class at all. The truth comes out and she just stands there.” “Probably jealous. Wants to be a rich kid.” “Look at her dad. Dressed like a kept man. Probably coached her to do it, hoping to get a payout from the rich lady.” “Claire, how could you—” I started, but a sharp pain in my palm cut me off. Lily was squeezing my hand with shocking strength, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes, which had been so full of desperate hope, were turning a dull, lifeless grey. “It’s okay, Daddy,” she whispered. Then she turned, her posture unnaturally straight, and bowed stiffly to the woman who gave birth to her. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I made a mistake.”

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1 My boss, James Astor, had a ghost. A year after his one true love died, he brought home her replacement. And the replacement was… paranoid. All I did was meet James’s eyes across the dinner table. “I saw that!” she hissed later. “The way you and James were making eyes at each other! I knew you were trouble.” I just stared at her. 2 Everyone in New York’s elite circles knew that its crown prince, James Astor, was haunted by the ghost of a love lost. Her name was Aurora Leigh. Plenty had tried to fill the void, sending him women—and men—who bore a passing resemblance to her. All of them had failed. Until today. Today, James brought home a girl who was a seven-tenths copy of the original. When he walked in, Alfred, the butler, and I were already at the dining table, waiting. The moment we saw the face—so eerily similar to the one we’d lost—we both froze. Our eyes met Leo’s, James’s special assistant, who was trailing a step behind. Leo gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug. James sat down at the head of the long rectangular table without a word. Alfred and Leo took their usual spots to his left. To his right, there was an empty chair, and then me. The woman moved instinctively to sit in the empty chair beside James. Faster than thinking, I grabbed the vase of white lilies from the center of the table and placed it on the chair. “This seat is taken.” Her eyes slid to me, a tight, forced smile on her lips. “Oh? By whom?” I placed a hand over my heart. “In memory,” I said, my voice perfectly serious. She turned, her face crumpling into a mask of wounded innocence for James’s benefit. James stared at the empty chair for a long, silent moment before finally looking away. “Let her sit there, Evelyn.” The woman shot me a look of pure triumph. I could feel my face burning. It was James himself who had decreed that no one was ever to sit in that chair. And now he was breaking his own rule, leaving me to look like a fool. Seeing I had no intention of moving the vase, the woman snatched it herself and unceremoniously dumped it on the floor. My head snapped up. Alfred’s did too. Leo’s. We all stared at James. He glanced at the discarded flowers, his expression unreadable, and then looked away as if nothing had happened. Once seated, the woman smoothed her hair. “Hello,” she said. “My name is Bella.” Alfred summoned his most professional, formulaic smile. “A pleasure, Miss Bella. I am the Astor family’s butler.” The two of them exchanged pleasantries, their voices echoing in the strained silence. I was still recovering from my own mortification. I could feel Bella’s eyes on me, but I refused to look at her. “You must be Dr. Reed,” she said, her voice saccharine. “I hear you’ve been Mr. Astor’s private physician for five years.” I thought for a moment, then gave a curt nod. After dinner, James left the table. He was at the elevator when he seemed to remember something. “Alfred, arrange a room for her on the first floor.” Before Alfred could respond, Bella rushed forward. “James, aren’t I staying with you?” James didn’t answer. The elevator doors slid shut, and he was gone. Bella bit her lip, her eyes flashing with frustration. I caught Alfred’s eye, and Leo’s. All three of us were fighting back a smile. But for some reason, Bella’s anger zeroed in on me. “Dr. Reed, are you laughing at me?” “No,” I said, not bothering to make it sound convincing. Her voice rose, becoming shrill. “Yes, you were!” “Think whatever you like.” “Hmph!” She tilted her chin up. “I’ve heard the rumors about the three of you and James, but now that I’m here…” Rumors? That was three years ago. Was this her attempt at putting us in our place? Alfred waited for her to finish. “Miss Bella, if you’ve heard rumors from three years ago, then surely you’ve also heard about Miss Leigh.” “So what if I have?” Bella snapped. “How can a dead woman compete with the living?” The three of us exchanged a look. Wasn’t a dead love the most impossible rival of all? But Bella had her own logic. “The dead are forgotten, sooner or later. But you three, you’re with him every day. It’s only natural that feelings might develop.” She was supposedly addressing all of us, but her glare was fixed solely on me. Alfred was losing his patience. “You’re overthinking things, Miss Bella. The staff quarters are to the left on the first floor. You may choose any of the guest rooms to the right.” “Aren’t you going to help me choose?” she demanded. Alfred picked up his chopsticks again. “I haven’t finished my dinner.” The three of us immediately buried our heads in our food, ignoring Bella completely. After a few minutes of pointed silence, she huffed off and disappeared into a room. 3 Once she was gone, Leo let out a sigh of relief. “It’s been three years since Miss Leigh passed. How can anyone still think there’s something going on between us and the boss?” Miss Leigh—Aurora. James’s lost love. As for the rumors… a young butler, a handsome assistant, and a young, beautiful doctor, all living in the Astor penthouse. We were a constant presence. Leo usually accompanied James to public functions, but when they both had too much to drink, Alfred or I, or both of us, would have to go and retrieve them. The gossip started itself. But all of that had died the moment Aurora Leigh entered the picture. The three of us just shook our heads. “Where did he even find her?” Alfred wondered aloud. “She looks so much like Miss Leigh. Is he really trying the whole replacement thing?” Leo, who would know best, shook his head. “She’s an intern. Hasn’t even been with the company a week.” He paused, thinking. “I just don’t see Mr. Astor as the type to find a substitute.” “But he let her sit in Aurora’s chair,” Alfred pointed out. “And he didn’t even flinch when she put Aurora’s favorite flowers on the floor.” We fell into a contemplative silence. 4 Bella settled into the Astor residence and never went back to the office. Her new full-time job was fawning over James. And James, to our astonishment, seemed to welcome it. He even started working from home. He had never been particularly gentle with Aurora; he’d even been known to shout at her when his temper flared. But with Bella, he was a different person, almost unbelievably tender. Bella casually mentioned that some of her clothes were pilling. The next day, the entire new season’s collection from a dozen designers arrived. Her first-floor suite’s walk-in closet was filled to bursting. She decided she wanted to cook for him and promptly cut her finger. James took my medical kit, personally bandaged her wound with painstaking care, and forbade her from ever setting foot in the kitchen again. Bella beamed. She tried to pick up Mango, and the cat scratched her. James ordered me to keep Mango locked in my room from now on. I stood there, holding the fluffy orange cat, utterly stunned as I watched them walk away together. “What did he just say?” I asked the empty air. Alfred adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. “He said to keep Mango in your room.” Mango was Aurora’s cat. James’s own brother was severely allergic, and even then, James had refused to lock Mango away, opting instead to take his brother out for dinner. And now he was banishing the cat to my room? Alfred stroked Mango’s head, and the cat purred, rubbing against his hand. “It’s probably for the best. The way he’s treating Miss Bella, who knows what will happen the next time Mango scratches her. He might get rid of him altogether.” He had a point. 5 I was in the small rooftop garden, watering the flowers, when I saw Bella clinging to James’s arm. “James, darling,” she cooed. “I love roses. Can we plant some roses here? Please?” Their relationship was progressing at lightning speed. She was already calling him ‘darling.’ But roses? James would never… “Alright,” James said. And just like that, he called for Alfred and told him to procure the finest rose bushes available. My jaw dropped. Was this for real? This garden was almost entirely filled with lilies, which Aurora had planted and tended to herself. He was going to replace them with roses? James left to handle some business, but not before giving me a strange, flickering glance. I was still trying to process it when Bella suddenly loomed over me. I was sitting on a bench, and from my angle, all I could see was her chin. “See? I told you the dead are easily forgotten.” Her voice was smug, but it quickly sharpened into an accusation. “And I saw you just now. You and James were making eyes at each other! I knew you were trouble!” I stood up. I was slightly taller than her. She took a wary step back. It was dusk, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. In this light, if her face were just a little thinner, she would have been the spitting image of Aurora. But their personalities were night and day. My eyes fell to her neck, where the high collar of her sheath dress seemed to be digging into her skin. “Is that dress comfortable?” I asked. “Of course it is!” she snapped. “Good to know,” I said, and turned to go back inside. It was time for dinner. Alfred was efficient. The roses were planted the very next day. I raised an eyebrow at the result. Bella wasn’t pleased. “James, can’t we plant more?” Aurora’s patch of lilies remained untouched. The roses had been planted in a small, adjacent plot. Compared to the sea of lilies, the roses looked sparse, but they were undeniably more eye-catching. James was watering the lilies, gently tending to their petals. “This is fine for now,” he said. 6 A major acquisition was underway at the company, which meant James was swamped with meetings. He barely came home, even for lunch. We only saw him in the evenings. As I was coming back from the garden, I saw Bella cornering the chef by the service entrance. He was holding bags of fresh groceries, clearly just back from the market. “Does James like cake?” she was asking. Cake? Oh, right. James’s birthday was coming up. The chef looked deeply uncomfortable. It was a loaded question. When he saw me, his face lit up with relief. I gestured for him to head to the kitchen. Bella glared at me. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Miss Leigh once made a cake for Mr. Astor,” I said flatly. “He didn’t eat it.” He’d done more than not eat it. He’d thrown it in the trash. Bella scoffed. “That was her. He’ll eat it if I make it.” She marched into the kitchen, full of misplaced confidence. I saw the same pained expression on the chef’s face that he’d worn when Aurora had asked for baking lessons. It was almost comical. “What’s going on?” Alfred asked, peering over my shoulder. “She’s making a cake.” We watched for a moment. “To be fair,” we agreed, “she seems to have more talent for it than Miss Leigh did.” Before James got home, Bella commanded us not to say a word about the cake until his birthday. We readily agreed. 7 James’s birthday arrived. Bella’s cake was, admittedly, a masterpiece. She admired her own handiwork with a satisfied smile. “Mr. Astor isn’t a huge fan of cake,” I offered, a small act of kindness. “Don’t be too upset if he doesn’t eat it.” “I made it,” she said confidently. “He’ll eat it.” Well, good luck to her. When James arrived home, Bella launched into a breathless rendition of “Happy Birthday” and presented him with a gift. When she brought out the cake, his expression faltered for a fraction of a second. She placed her hand over his, guided the knife to cut the first slice, and held a forkful to his lips. James looked at her, and then, slowly, he opened his mouth. I stared. Alfred stared. Leo stared. We were in a state of collective shock. He only took one bite, but in life, context is everything. He had thrown Aurora’s cake away. While we were still reeling, James, holding the gift box Bella had given him, glanced over at us. “Where are my presents?” We scrambled to hand them over. I’d chosen an earring for him—a subtle nod to a rebellious phase in his youth. The box was small. As I placed it in his palm, his fingers closed around it, and for a moment, it felt like he was holding my hand. I looked up and met Bella’s murderous gaze. Great. 8 James’s indulgence had given Bella a sense of entitlement that was growing by the day. After someone let it slip that James had eaten her cake after rejecting Aurora’s, she became utterly insufferable. With Leo at the office with James all day, it was often just Bella, Alfred, and me in the penthouse. And she seemed convinced that something was going on between James and me. She was constantly looking for ways to torment me. “Evelyn! The floor is dirty. Mop it.” I was sprawled on the sofa. “Miss Bella, I’m a doctor. That’s not my job.” “James is never sick!” she snapped. “Are you just here to collect a paycheck for doing nothing?” “Pretty much,” I agreed. As a doctor, my current job was a sinecure. When Aurora was alive, her fragile health was a full-time concern. My primary duty was managing her condition. James, under my strict orders, hadn’t dared to touch her. Now, Bella was as healthy as a horse, and since James wasn’t touching her either, my medical skills were entirely superfluous. Alfred adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Astor signs our paychecks, Miss Bella. And there are professional cleaners who handle the household chores. You needn’t concern yourself.” As if on cue, a housekeeper appeared with a mop. Bella was determined to make me do something. “I’m craving macarons from La Belle Pâtisserie. Go buy me some.” “You know you can have them delivered, right?” “I don’t want them delivered! I want you to go get them!” After years of working together, Alfred was protective of me. “Miss Bella…” “Fine, fine, I’ll go,” I sighed. Of course, I had no intention of actually going. I’d take a walk, enjoy the afternoon, and come back and say they were sold out. Alfred stood up. “I’ll go with you.” Once we were out, he readily agreed to my plan. We ended up at the mall. While I was waiting for Alfred to use the restroom, a display of sheath dresses in a boutique window caught my eye. One of them was very similar to a dress Aurora used to wear. “You’ve never worn a dress like that,” Alfred remarked, having returned. He looked me up and down. “I think it would suit you.” I shook my head. “Not my style.” They were too restrictive. As we were about to head back, I saw a familiar black car flash by on the street below. “What is it?” “I’m not sure,” I said. “I think I just saw Mr. Astor’s car.” Alfred followed my gaze, but it was already gone. 9 When we got back to the penthouse, Bella was in the middle of tattling to James. “James, darling! Dr. Reed and Alfred were so disrespectful to me!” Leo shot us a sympathetic look. When Bella saw we were empty-handed, she pounced. “They promised to get me macarons! I’ve been craving them all day!” James’s gaze fell on us, dark and unreadable. “My apologies, Miss Bella,” Alfred said smoothly. “They were sold out.” “Really?” she challenged. “La Belle is a thirty-minute walk from here at most. An hour round trip. You’ve been gone for three hours!” Alfred and I bowed our heads in mock penitence. “If it’s that close,” a low voice cut in, “why didn’t you go yourself?” We both peeked up. The words had come from James. Bella’s mouth opened and closed. Her beautiful eyes filled with tears of disbelief. “They have their own duties,” James continued, his voice calm but firm. “They are not your errand runners.” My own guilt pricked at me a little. The words weren’t harsh, but for Bella, who had been coddled and protected for weeks, they were a devastating blow. She burst into tears and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. I glanced at the clock. Dinner time. “Where did you two go this afternoon?” James asked quietly. “Just for a walk,” Alfred replied. After a moment of silence, James stood up. “Let’s eat.” Alfred went to the kitchen to bring out the food, and Leo dutifully went to coax Bella out of her room. For a moment, it was just James and me at the table. “I am your only employer,” he said, not looking at me. “You don’t have to listen to her.” I nodded. I hadn’t been. “Next time,” he added, “you can come to me.” I nodded again, a flicker of unease running through me. That sounded… a little too intimate. Leo returned with a report. “Mr. Astor, Miss Bella says she’s not eating.” James thought for a moment, then looked at me. “Prepare a tray for her.” I nodded. It was a familiar routine. Whenever Aurora refused to eat, I was the one who would take a tray to her room. But as I was about to pick up the tray I’d prepared, James took it from me. “I’ll do it,” he said. “You two go ahead and eat.” As I ate, I kept glancing toward her room. He knocked, but Bella wouldn’t open the door. I saw him take out a key.

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It was a get-together with old college friends, and my girlfriend smiled as she placed a piece of mushroom on my plate. “Gary, you wanted the mushrooms—” She trailed off. I hadn’t ordered mushrooms. And my name isn’t Cole. Gary is the name of her ex-boyfriend. 1 At the reunion dinner, Elara placed a grilled mushroom on my plate, her smile bright. “Gary, you ordered the mushrooms.” She started to say more. “They’re a little charred, just the way—” Her hand froze mid-air, the sentence left hanging. I kept my head down, slowly chewing the food in my mouth. I didn’t speak. I didn’t look up. I hadn’t ordered the mushrooms. And Gary wasn’t my name. Gary was her ex-boyfriend. Across the table, sitting to my left, Gary himself paused, looking up at her. I could feel their gazes lock for a tense moment, sparking with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. Elara was the first to look away. In a room with both her ex and her current boyfriend, she had called her new partner by her old flame’s name. The boisterous chatter around the table hit a sudden pause, the silence deafening. My grip on my fork tightened until my knuckles were white, the metal biting into my palm. But the pain felt distant, a dull throb my mind was too numb to register. After a suffocating moment, Leo broke the tension. “Hey, is no one drinking? Come on, bottoms up! Don’t be party poopers!” A collective sigh of relief rippled through the group. Laughter, a little forced, followed. “Who’s being a party pooper? I’m on my third glass!” “Your glass is still full! You’ve got some nerve calling us out!” Elara quietly moved the mushroom from my plate to her own, her eyes avoiding Gary’s. She then ladled a bowl of soup for me, her voice a careful imitation of casualness. “Have something warm. You’re not dressed for this weather.” I took the bowl without a word. … As we were leaving the restaurant, Elara stopped me. “I’m just going to the restroom. Wait for me outside, okay?” She hurried down the corridor, a sense of urgency in her steps. I watched her go, a knot tightening in my stomach. After a moment’s hesitation, I followed. And there he was. At the end of the hall, Gary stood tall and handsome in a black overcoat. Elara’s face was a mask of frustration. She was saying something, but they were too far away for me to hear. Gary, however, grew more agitated. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into a fierce embrace. From my hiding spot around the corner, I saw Elara’s hands hover stiffly behind his back. Her fingers flexed, then clenched into fists, a silent struggle. She never returned the hug. After a moment, she pushed him away, whispering a few sharp words before turning to leave. Gary called after her, his voice loud enough to echo down the hall, the words slicing through the air and finding me. “But you don’t love him! You just called me to his face!” “Elara, you’re not over me, are you?!” Her steps faltered for a fraction of a second, but she didn’t look back. She just kept walking, swallowed by the silence. On the drive home, an unspoken agreement hung between us. Neither of us mentioned what had happened at dinner. I was afraid to ask if what Gary said was true. Deep down, I think I already knew the answer, and I couldn’t bear to hear it confirmed. She leaned over and gave me a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth, just like every other night, before snuggling into my arms. “Let’s sleep,” she murmured. But I knew neither of us would. That name, spoken by mistake, was a ghost in the room with us. For someone as meticulous and composed as Elara to make such a slip, that name must have been on the tip of her tongue, a constant presence in her mind, turned over and over until it spilled out on its own. I lay in the darkness, my eyes wide open until they ached, feeling the frantic, unslowing beat of her heart against my back. It was strange. We were so close, yet it felt like an ocean raged between us. 2 The next morning at work, I overheard the receptionists whispering by the coffee machine. “A guy came looking for Ms. Vance this morning,” one said, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Seriously handsome. Asked for Elara Vance by her full name. I wonder…” She leaned in closer, savoring the gossip. “What do you think his deal is with the boss?” The other girl whispered back, “What was his name? What did he look like?” “I think… Gary something? Looked like a movie star, but he had this arrogant air about him. Not my type.” She made a face. “I much prefer our Cole.” “Gary?” the other one gasped softly. “I think that’s her ex-boyfriend’s name! I overheard someone asking her once, back when he was supposed to be coming back from overseas.” “No way! So what did she say? If she gets back with this Gary guy, what happens to Cole?” “I don’t know! I didn’t stick around to listen. I got out of there fast.” I leaned against the cool wall of the break room, the coffee in my hand long since gone cold. Only after they had finished their discussion and left did I emerge. But back at my desk, the words on the documents in front of me blurred and swam, twisting themselves into one name over and over again. Gary. The pen in my hand began to tremble uncontrollably. I knew, then. I was scared. Gary was back. And I was terrified that, just like seven years ago, he would effortlessly steal Elara from me all over again. Elara and I had grown up together. We were childhood sweethearts, practically joined at the hip from kindergarten through college. I spent half my childhood at her house, and her mom adored me. She used to tease me constantly. “Cole, honey, will you be my son-in-law one day? Please?” No matter how many times she asked, I’d blush and look down, unable to answer. The adults would laugh. “Elara, what about you? Would you marry Cole?” And Elara, with a wide grin, would always shout, “Yes! I love Cole the most!” Back then, I truly believed her. I believed we were meant to be together. Until Gary appeared in our sophomore year of college. He was in our class, a campus celebrity, just like Elara. He was the student council president; she was the vice president. He was the debate team captain; she was the star debater. They both had national scholarships. Two brilliant stars, naturally drawn to each other. Elara still spent time with me, but our conversations increasingly revolved around him. “Cole, Gary is just… incredible. I almost lost that last debate; he completely cornered me.” “Cole, what does it mean when a guy says there’s a great restaurant he knows? Is he… asking you out?” “Cole, what do guys even like for birthday presents? Can you give me some ideas?” She would say my name, but her thoughts were filled with another man. … In all the years I’d known Elara, I had never heard her talk about buying a gift for another guy. I forced a smile. “Who’s it for?” I can still see her expression now. A faint blush crept up her porcelain cheeks as she looked down, murmuring, “Who else could it be?” “Gary, of course.” She looked up, her eyes sparkling, reflecting my own ashen face. “Looks like you might be getting a brother-in-law soon. Aren’t you happy for me?” A long moment passed before I managed to find my voice. “I’m happy.” 3 And just like that, Elara and Gary were together. They were a power couple, a perfect match that drew eyes wherever they went. No one who saw them could deny how good they looked together. They owned every room they walked into. They dated for three years. Those were the three years Elara and I were most distant, almost strangers. Part of it was me, deliberately keeping my distance. But a bigger part was Gary. His possessiveness was intense, and any contact between Elara and me would trigger a massive fight. To keep the peace, Elara eventually deleted my number. After being inseparable for our entire lives, we were finally torn apart. I remember flying home for Christmas that year, alone. When I got to her house, her mom rushed to the door. “Cole! You’re back! Why are you by yourself? Where’s Elara?” For some reason, a wave of unbearable sorrow washed over me. I ducked my head to hide my expression. “She’s… on vacation with her boyfriend. They went abroad.” Her mom froze. Her face was a canvas of complex emotions as she patted my shoulder and sighed. They were together for three years. Gary and Elara were cut from the same cloth: brilliant, ambitious, and fiercely independent. When things were good, their shared drive was a source of intense connection. But two proud, unyielding people were bound to clash. Gary’s need to control Elara suffocated her, leading to constant arguments. Whenever they fought, she would come to me. “What is his problem? He’s so damn annoying, worse than my own mother!” I would just listen in silence. Anything I said felt wrong. Besides, she never needed my advice. She’d vent, have a drink, and go right back to him. The final straw was Gary’s plan to study abroad. He wanted Elara to go with him. But Elara had just co-founded a startup with a few classmates. It was the dawn of the internet boom, a blue ocean of opportunity. She was determined to make her mark and urged him to stay, to build their future together. He refused. The arguments escalated, becoming endless cycles of bitterness. Finally, at his breaking point, Gary exploded. “Goddamn it, Elara, can you just stop fighting me on everything for once? Are you coming with me or not?!” He laid down the ultimatum. “If you’re not coming, then let’s just end this now. Stop wasting each other’s time!” Elara, pushed to her own limit, snapped back, her voice tight with fury. “Fine! Let’s break up. And whoever comes crawling back is a coward!” The words hung in the air, stunning even Gary into silence. He stared at her for a long, final moment. “Fine,” he said, his voice cold. “You’ve got guts, Elara. I’ll give you that.” And he walked out. Elara’s pride wouldn’t let her chase him. She never imagined he’d be just as stubborn. The very next day, he was on a plane, flying across the ocean. This time, it was really over. … Elara fell into a dark place. She drank with me, with old friends, trying to numb the pain. She was on the verge of falling apart. It was Leo who finally snapped her out of it, grabbing her by the collar and shaking her. “For God’s sake, have some self-respect! If you can’t live without him, then get on a plane and go get him! Otherwise, get your ass back to work! The company needs you. Stop being so damn irresponsible!” Elara said nothing. She locked herself in her room for a whole night. The next day, she was back to her old self. She went to work, reconnected with me, and even made me a partner in the company. Three years after Gary left, on Elara’s birthday, I drank too much. In a drunken haze, I saw her standing under the party lights, so beautiful she seemed unreal. The feelings I had suppressed for years finally broke free. I leaned in and kissed her. She didn’t speak, just stared at me, the shattered lights of the room reflected in her watery eyes. After a long moment, she closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around my neck, and deepened the kiss. The next morning, I woke up, lit a cigarette, and struggled to find the words. But she came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist, her voice thick with sleep. “Cole… let’s be together.” My hand paused. I had to ask. “Do you love me?” She didn’t answer. She just held me tighter.

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I am a capybara. I look like a guinea pig, but with a more stoic, rectangular face. You can picture it. I love to zone out. I love to soak. If I can zone out while soaking, even better. Because we’re so chill, we get along with everyone in the animal kingdom. A duck using my head as a perch? I’ll just zone out. A pelican trying to nibble on my face? Zone out. A crocodile giving me a ride on its back? Zone out. There’s a certain aesthetic to it—a vibe that’s somewhere between living and dying, and not particularly concerned with either. Until I woke up in the body of a C-list actress in America. The contract termination fee is astronomical, so for now, I’m stuck in showbiz. Of course, this isn’t permanent. I’ve already found a great way to make money: playing a corpse. It’s a hundred and fifty bucks a day, and craft services are included. At this rate, I should be able to buy out my contract in… roughly a century. I’m perfectly content with this plan. My agency, however, is not. 1 Today’s performance did not go smoothly. I was playing dead in a cluster of bushes. Maybe I was lying a little too flat, blending in too well with the scenery, because the male lead stepped right on me. It was a war scene. The man was wearing over twenty pounds of prop armor. I nearly coughed up a lung. He seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second, then continued on with his lines. The pain was so intense, I passed out. When I came to, another extra was wandering around with my phone, trying to find me. The shoot had wrapped hours ago. I’d slept so long no one had even noticed I was missing. I slowly pushed myself up, startling him. “Penny? What are you still doing here?” The extra handed me my phone. “Hey, you missed a call.” It had gone to voicemail long ago. I glanced at the screen. It was my agent. Seeing me just staring into space, the extra prompted, “Aren’t you gonna call back?” “They’ll call again,” I said. He looked at me with a sort of weary helplessness. “You can’t be this zen all the time, Penny. You fell asleep on set again, and they already paid out the extras for the day. You worked for free. C’mon, let me buy you dinner or something…” I yawned. “It’s okay. I’ll just come back tomorrow.” The extra, who had been about to offer again, just sighed. “…Right. You should probably go get some sleep, then.” “Bye,” I said, rubbing my eyes. He looked at my drowsy face, and for a moment, his expression softened. As I was leaving, I saw the male lead pacing around the set, a deep frown on his face. I overheard someone say he was looking for someone to apologize to. I wiped off my corpse makeup and walked right past him on my way out. I was woken up by a ringing phone. It was my agent, Brenda. A video call. The moment I answered, her exasperated face filled the screen. “I am so done, Penny! Even if you’re a nobody, you’re my nobody, and the network is forcing you onto that reality show to be Sienna Croft’s foil!” I blinked slowly. “What’s a foil?” Brenda looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. “It’s the oldest, trashiest marketing trick in the book, and you don’t even know it? They want you to play the part of a good-for-nothing, totally incompetent train wreck to make Sienna look hardworking and beautiful by comparison.” I nodded in understanding. “Oh. That’s me, then.” Good-for-nothing. Totally incompetent. “…” Brenda went silent. I think she wanted to scream at me, but in the end, she just waved a dismissive hand, all the fight gone out of her. “Fine. Whatever. Just go.” “And for God’s sake, brush your hair before you leave the house. It looks like a small, furry explosion went off… you’re a grown woman, how do you still have a cowlick that intense?” She muttered a few more things under her breath before hanging up. I continued to zone out. I kind of wished Brenda were here. She always hates my bedhead; she would have brushed it for me. 2 I joined the cast on location. It was one of those grueling, back-to-basics survival shows. The livestream started the second we stepped out of the van. Sienna and I were guest stars for the week. There were five permanent cast members: four men and one woman. The guys were: an A-list actor, a boy band idol, a rock singer, and a pro athlete. The female cast member was a famously outspoken actress. Sienna had worked with most of them before and was immediately part of the group, laughing and hugging everyone. Being a total unknown, I just stood off to the side. The live chat was blowing up with comments about how gorgeous they all were. The few times I was mentioned, it was with pure confusion. [Who is that? Never seen her before.] [Ugh, must be someone the producers snuck in. So annoying.] I started to zone out. Until Sienna suddenly called out, “Oh, I almost forgot about Penny! What are you doing just standing over there, silly? Come say hi to everyone!” I had no choice but to go down the line, shaking hands. “Hi, I’m Penny,” I said four times. It wasn’t until I met the A-list actor’s gaze that I paused. I frowned. “You.” He was the one who had stepped on me. He looked momentarily confused, then offered a polite, professional smile. “I’m Ethan Cole.” The implication being, he had no idea who I was. Which was fair. My face had been caked in fake blood at the time, and who remembers what a corpse looks like anyway? The live chat, however, exploded. [Is she seriously trying to start drama with Ethan Cole? The nerve.] [Lmao my man does not care AT ALL.] [Ethan: Don’t even try it.] I saw the undisguised annoyance in his eyes and figured he’d gotten the wrong impression, but I didn’t bother to explain. I just went back to zoning out. That first night, we had to earn our dinner by competing in games. Because I’d been in a daze for most of the explanation, by the time my turn came, the only option left was archery. Sienna asked with exaggerated concern, “Penny, do you know how to do that?” I nodded. When you play a corpse, sometimes they give you a little fight scene before you die. The stunt coordinator once told me I had a knack for it, so whenever an arrow had to actually hit the lead actor’s armor, I was the one who fired it. Of course, the lead actor never died. Only I did. The smile on Sienna’s face froze. “Are you sure?” she pressed. I paused. Right. My assignment from the agency. I was supposed to be completely useless. So, I shook my head. The live chat filled with mockery. [This Penny girl is such a poser. Says she can, then immediately backs down when Sienna calls her out.] [So annoying. The rest of the cast is amazing, why did they have to bring in this dead weight?] [Guess her rich dad couldn’t buy her talent. If you can’t hack it, just go home.] Sienna feigned hesitation. “Well, how about this? I can take your turn.” “I took archery lessons for a role once,” she added, beaming. “I’m actually pretty good.” I remained silent. Awkwardly, I had also been in that movie. I played the assassin in that scene. Sienna, brimming with confidence, had insisted on doing the shot for real. After eight failed takes, they gave up and used CGI. I, on the other hand, had to get “beaten up” by her eight times before I was allowed to gloriously die. Still, I just nodded. “Okay.” But a producer chimed in. “Sienna, you already competed in the Pictionary game. If you want to take Penny’s turn, you’ll have to accept a penalty.” Sienna agreed immediately, her face a mask of determination. The live chat flooded with a mix of outrage and pity. The original game was just to shoot an orange off a post. The penalty, it turned out, was for me to balance the orange on my head while Sienna tried to shoot it. Live Chat: [LMAOOOOO. Serves her right.] [Isn’t that dangerous? What if something actually goes wrong?] [Relax, Sienna said she knows what she’s doing. Besides, Penny is so useless, she’ll probably make a crew member stand in for her anyway.] I sighed and silently placed the orange on my head. Sienna was as confident as ever, ready for her big moment. But ten arrows later, nine had missed completely, and the final one grazed my cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Sienna’s eyes instantly welled up. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was so scared of hitting you that I couldn’t aim properly. I was trying so hard to be careful.” The other cast members rushed to comfort her, and the chat was a waterfall of sympathy, all of them blaming me for being difficult. A few comments popped up asking if I was okay, but they were quickly buried. I snapped out of my daze and touched my cheek. It came away bloody. The movement dislodged the orange, which tumbled to the ground and landed in the dirt. I squatted down, picked it up, and looked at a nearby crew member. “I’m sorry, I got it dirty,” I said. “Do you still want it?” The crew member gave me a complicated look and shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize for that.” I didn’t quite hear the rest of what he said, only that they didn’t want it anymore. So, I quietly peeled the orange and ate it. It was really sweet. These are, like, eight dollars a pound at the store this time of year. Score. Live Chat: [Okay, but her face is actually bleeding. An actress’s face is her livelihood, this feels like it went too far.] [I thought she was going to cry or get mad, but she just… picked up the orange and ate it?] [I mean, I don’t like her, but you have to admit, her emotional stability is on another level.] After I finished the orange, I stood up and clapped the dust off my hands. “I’ll do it.” I had no idea if the agency would dock my pay for this, but if this dragged on any longer, I was going to fall asleep standing up. 3 I placed the orange peel on the ground and picked up the bow Sienna had discarded. I drew the string, nocked an arrow, and closed my eyes for a second. Thwip. The arrow pinned the peel to the dirt. Live Chat: [OMG, she’s littering! How could she!] I walked over and picked up the peel. I looked around. No trash can. As a rodent, I take environmentalism very seriously. I would never do something so uncivilized… maybe I should just eat the peel? I lifted it towards my mouth, but then my eyes met Sienna’s. She was glaring at me, furious that I had failed so spectacularly at being a failure. Great. She was going to complain to the network, and my pay was definitely getting docked. Getting yelled at didn’t bother me—it goes in one ear and out the other—but still. The tear tracks were still visible on Sienna’s face. I hesitated, then slowly walked over to her and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.” It was a trick the extra from the other day taught me. When in doubt, just apologize. After apologizing, I turned and left to collect our team’s prize: a basket of ingredients. Live Chat: [Am I crazy or was that kind of… tender?] Sienna: “AHHH! Penny, did you just put a dirty orange peel in my pocket?!” Live Chat: […Yep. I was crazy.] I snuck a bite of a lettuce leaf from the prize basket and closed my eyes in satisfaction. Two problems solved at once. Perfect. Sienna must be feeling much better now. The next day, we were on our own for lunch. I was paired with Wyatt, the pro athlete, and our task was to catch fish. We made our way to the riverbank. It was lined with tall reeds, swaying in the breeze. A capybara’s buffet. Unfortunately, this human body would probably get sick if I ate wild plants. I regretfully stuck a reed in my mouth to chew on, cast my fishing line, and settled down on the bank to zone out. Wyatt, a swimmer by trade, had already stripped off his shirt and was splashing around in the river, trying to catch fish with his bare hands. He was in his early twenties, all lean muscle and boundless energy, and he thrashed around for ages without a hint of fatigue. He scared away all the fish that had been nibbling at my bait, then grinned at me, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. “Penny, come on in! The water’s great!” Live Chat: [Those abs. I am looking respectfully.] [But he’s scaring all the fish away. He’s like an overexcited golden retriever. The fisherman in me is raging.] [Abs. drool. But dude, read the room, you have a task to do. drool.] […Can the person above me wipe their chin? You’re dripping on me.] I put down my fishing rod and slowly got up. The live chat thought I was about to tell him off. The excitement was palpable. “Okay,” I said. I love a good soak. And since he invited me, the agency couldn’t accuse me of slacking off, right? I sat down in the shallows and began to zone out. Wyatt called, “Hey Penny, let’s race!” “Your goal is that big rock! I’ll swim to that tree way over there! First one there wins! On the count of three… GO!” He finished his countdown and shot off like a torpedo. I had been on the verge of sleep. His shout startled me awake, and I blinked in confusion. Huh? Where did he go? Oh, well. Back to sleep. Live Chat: [LMAOOOO someone please tell me they clipped that.] [Wyatt didn’t see Penny move, so he got out on the other side to check on her and is now completely lost.] [I’m dying. Penny literally just looked up, saw he was gone, and went right back to sleep. She looks so tired all the time.] 4 By the time the production crew found Wyatt and brought him back, the morning was almost over. He was distraught. “We didn’t catch any fish. What are we going to tell Ethan and the others?” As he spoke, he looked down at me in the water and fell silent. Live Chat: […I was just in Wyatt’s stream, can someone explain what’s happening here? Why is there a duck on Penny’s head?] [I think it’s the duck Wyatt scared onto the bank earlier.] [If you’re new here, just wait. It gets weirder.] I had been zoning out again and Wyatt’s voice pulled me back. He looked utterly shocked, pointing a trembling finger at my head. “You… there’s a duck on your head.” “Oh,” I said. Back when I was a capybara, I’d often have three or four ducks visiting at once. My human head is smaller, though, so it can only fit one. I glanced at the sun, realizing I couldn’t soak any longer, and slowly began to stand up. The duck squawked and flew away, but something else, hidden in my explosive bedhead, tumbled down as I moved. I instinctively reached out and caught it. It was… an egg? Live Chat: [???] [I thought things couldn’t get any weirder.] [I really thought it couldn’t.] [It got weirder.] [Weird.] I thought for a moment, then, under Wyatt’s “my-brain-is-melting” gaze, I handed him the egg. “For lunch.” Wyatt’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh my god, Penny, you’re the best.” I looked at him, confused. I eat grass, so I had to give it to him. What’s so great about that? I gathered a large bundle of reeds to take back with me. I told everyone I just liked them as decoration, but secretly, I planned to snack on them later. The rest of the cast was thrilled about Wyatt’s egg, crowding around and asking him how he got it. Sienna, however, directed her attention to me. “It’s fine that you didn’t catch any fish, but this was a team effort. It’s not really fair for you to just go play in the water all morning and come back with a bunch of weeds, is it?” “I’m sorry,” I said. Then, with a pained expression, I offered, “You can have some.” Sienna: “…” The internet: “…” [I’m sorry Sienna, but I absolutely lost it.] [Go ahead and laugh. I’ll take the karma hit for you.] [Borrowing the karma from the user above me. LMAOOOO.] Over by the fire, Ethan and the others had finally gotten the whole story out of Wyatt. Ethan cleared his throat. “It’s okay, Sienna. Penny was the one who got the egg, she… uh…” He struggled for words, apparently unable to summarize the origin of the egg, and finally just looked at me with a grave expression. “You worked hard.” I yawned and drifted off into a daze.

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On my daughter Lily’s birthday, her only wish was to visit the amusement park with her mother. But my wife Amelia had rented the entire park to impress her first love, Julian. Her assistant shredded our tickets. “Ms. Astor is busy,” she sneered. Through the fence, I saw Amelia locked in a passionate kiss with Julian. Lily squeezed through, calling “Mommy!”—only to be kicked away. “You know we lost our baby,” Amelia hissed. “Are you tormenting us with this… thing?” She strapped my sobbing daughter onto the drop tower and started the ride. “No one stops it until I say so,” she ordered staff before leaving with Julian. When I finally broke into the control room, blood already stained the ground. Cradling Lily’s broken body, I collapsed before Amelia’s mother. “Amelia killed her,” I rasped. “She’ll pay.” 1 “She’s still alive! If we get her to the hospital now, we can save her!” the Astor family doctor shouted after checking Lily’s pulse. But the moment we arrived at the emergency room, Amelia’s assistant blocked our path again. I fell to my knees, slamming my forehead against the cold tile floor. “If Amelia wants to take her anger out on me, fine. Let her torture me. But please, let me get a doctor for my daughter. I’m begging you.” Eleanor tried to shove him aside. “If you delay my granddaughter’s treatment, I’ll have you buried with her!” The assistant’s eyes widened in panic as he saw the blood pouring from Lily. “But… Ms. Astor has already sent all the doctors from this hospital away.” “That bastard!” Eleanor immediately started calling other hospitals, but the answer was the same everywhere: Amelia, determined to give Julian a new child to make up for the one they’d “lost,” had paid a fortune to hire every top specialist in the city. They were all at her beck and call, preparing her for another pregnancy. I held my daughter, her small body growing colder in my arms, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Just then, someone hurried through the doors. “Ms. Astor sent me…” I scrambled toward him, my heart seizing with a desperate hope, only to realize it wasn’t a doctor. It was a delivery guy. “Ms. Astor asked me to bring these bandages,” he said, holding out a small paper bag. “She also said to tell you, and I quote, ‘a little blood isn’t a death sentence. Stop bothering me over every little thing.’” “That monstrous daughter of mine!” Eleanor slapped the bag of bandages to the floor and collapsed, clutching her chest. “That parasite Julian ran off with three hundred million from the company ten years ago and left us bankrupt! Now he’s back, poisoning our family, twisting Amelia’s mind until she murders her own child! I will not let that bastard get away with this!” She pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Amelia right now. I’ll make her come back here and kneel before you to apologize.” But the call went straight to voicemail. A moment later, my own phone rang. It was Amelia, her voice tight with suppressed rage. “David, are you determined to ruin my day? If you hadn’t killed my baby with Julian out of sheer jealousy, he wouldn’t be in so much pain right now! What’s wrong with me comforting him? Do you have to be so petty that you run crying to my mother?” She didn’t even pause for breath. “And that daughter of yours! You’ve spoiled her rotten. She’s a spoiled, demanding brat who thinks a single drop of blood is the end of the world. I’m not a doctor, what good would I be?” “You wanted the amusement park, so Julian and I gave it to you. You said the child was bleeding, so I sent bandages. If you use one more excuse to bother me and Julian today, David, I swear you will regret it.” She was still screaming into the phone, but her voice had become a distant buzz. Nothing mattered anymore. I whispered Lily’s name, stroking her small, stiff, ice-cold hand. “Amelia,” I said, my voice hollow, “believe it or not, I never hurt your child with him. I never even knew you were pregnant with his child.” The life drained out of me, leaving only an empty shell. “You killed my daughter. I’m divorcing you.” There was a pause on the other end, followed by a cold, derisive laugh. “Trying to play dead to get my attention again? David, your acting is getting pathetic.” She hung up. I stood there, soulless, clutching my daughter’s body. I walked over to Eleanor. She took one look at me, at Lily, and understood that there was no hope left. Tears streamed down her face. “This is my fault,” she sobbed. “I never should have used the fact that I saved your life all those years ago to force you to marry Amelia, to force you to save the Astor Corporation from ruin.” “But David,” she pleaded, her voice breaking, “for the sake of everything we’ve been through, please… give Amelia one more chance. Before Julian came back, the three of you were so happy. She has you in her heart, David. She does. It’s just that scumbag Julian… he’s poisoned her mind again.” Her words stirred a memory, and a bitter, desolate laugh escaped my lips. Ten years ago, Julian had abandoned Amelia after a horrific car accident left her in a coma. He’d cleaned out the company’s accounts—three hundred million dollars—and vanished. The Astor Corporation went bankrupt, and the family couldn’t even afford her hospital bills. That’s when Eleanor found me. I was a vice president at a rival firm by then. She, a woman of her stature, got on her knees and begged me to marry her daughter—a woman who might never wake up—and salvage the family business. I was eternally grateful to her. Years ago, when my own mother was dying, Eleanor had hired the best doctors for her and funded my education through college. To repay that debt, I agreed. I spent three years rebuilding the Astor Corporation from ashes. I sat by Amelia’s bedside, helping her transition from a hospital bed to a wheelchair, and then, finally, to her own two feet. After she gave birth to our daughter, Lily, I stepped back from the company to be a full-time father, allowing Amelia to return to the corporate world she loved. For ten years, I gave Amelia and the Astor family everything I had. And now, I had lost my daughter—the only precious gift the Astors had ever given me. I looked at Eleanor, her face streaked with tears, and slowly shook my head. “I gave her ten years of my life. She had no right to trample on my devotion like this.” “The debt I owed your family was paid a decade ago. Now… now I’m here to collect what Amelia owes me.” My eyes burned as I placed my daughter into the crematorium with my own hands. The flames roared to life, and a violent tremor ran through my entire body. “Lily,” I whispered, my voice cracking, “Daddy will get justice for you. I promise.” Eleanor wept beside me. “After what I’ve done to you, I have no right to stop you. But David… if Amelia comes to her senses, can you find it in your heart to give her another chance?” “When my daughter was crying her name, begging for her, why couldn’t she give her a chance?” I wiped the last tear from my eye. Armed with a death certificate, I went home to pack my and Lily’s things. The moment I stepped through the door, I was hit by a thick, acrid smell. Little blue foil packets were scattered all over the floor. Julian saw me and shot me a provocative glare, his movements against Amelia becoming rougher. “Amelia, darling, your husband’s back. Should I leave? We wouldn’t want to upset him. He might force poor Lily to put on another one of her little shows. Such a shame, learning to lie and deceive at such a young age.” Amelia’s voice was sharp. “David, you stand right there!” she commanded. “I haven’t even settled the score with you for killing my child with Julian! Don’t think for a second I won’t make you pay.” “I told you, I didn’t even know you had a child with him, let alone harm it,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m tired of repeating myself. Believe what you want.” “Talk is cheap,” Amelia sneered. “You know, you don’t even deserve to be Lily’s father. Maybe I should just let Julian raise her. He’d be a much better father.” I ignored them and started up the stairs. Amelia grabbed my arm, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of suspicion. “If you don’t want me to give Lily to him, that’s fine too. I’ll just have another baby with Julian to make it up to him. But you have to promise not to be jealous. You have to accept Julian into this family.” “Do whatever you want,” I said coldly. A flash of confusion crossed her face, quickly replaced by a smirk. “If you’re really going to be so understanding, then clear out the master bedroom. Julian and I will need it to try for our baby. And while you’re at it, come over here and open these packets for us. And hand us a wet wipe.” “Oh, and Julian was a little too rough earlier,” she added, a cruel glint in her eye. “He tore my limited-edition lingerie. You can stitch it up for me.” A small, foul-smelling piece of lace and a handful of foil packets hit me in the face. The sharp edge of a packet sliced a thin, bloody line across my cheek. Disgust churned in my stomach, but I had no energy to fight them. I brushed the lingerie off my shirt, tore open the packets, and threw them on the table in front of them. “Can I go now?” Amelia looked confused, almost lost for a moment. But then Julian, still draped over her, started moving again, and the sounds of their passion filled the room. I ignored them and went upstairs. I folded Lily’s little clothes one by one. I pulled out the photo album I had made for her, filled with pictures of her smiling, vibrant face. It felt like she was still alive. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Just yesterday, she was chirping at my side, “Daddy, don’t be sad. Mommy’s just too busy with work to play with us. She works so hard. For my birthday wish, I’m not going to ask for Mommy to play with me. I’m going to wish for Mommy to get a good day’s rest.” A sob escaped my lips as I hugged the clothes that still carried her scent. My daughter was so thoughtful, so considerate of her mother. And that same mother had sent her to her death on her birthday. After packing everything, I contacted my lawyer and prepared to leave. As I came downstairs, I saw the two of them, disheveled, leaning against the kitchen counter. Julian’s exposed chest was covered in red marks. “Mr. Hayes,” he said, his voice oozing false sympathy, “Amelia is only doing this to make up for the pain you caused me. Don’t blame her. And please, stop teaching your child to do such wicked things. What if she grows up to be just like you?” He feigned a look of realization. “Oh, I heard today is Lily’s birthday. I’m so sorry. You see, today is the 5,200-day anniversary of when Amelia and I first met. She swore she’d throw a grand celebration for me on every anniversary. That’s why she had to leave you and Lily behind.” His words were an apology, but his face was a mask of triumph. “I baked a mango cake to show how sorry I am. I hope you’ll eat it and accept my apology.” I had no patience for his hypocrisy. All I wanted was to lay my daughter to rest. Seeing me walk toward the door without a word, Amelia assumed I was snubbing Julian. She had a bodyguard slam my head against the kitchen island. “David, have you lost every last shred of decency?” she spat. “Julian is a kind man who refuses to hold a grudge against you and your daughter, and you have the audacity to act so high and mighty?” “Where’s Lily? Where are you hiding her? Get her back here right now to eat this cake and get on her knees to apologize to Julian.” “Lily’s dead,” I gritted out, the pain in my head blinding. “If you want her to eat cake, then Julian can go to hell and feed it to her.” “How dare you say something so vile! You’d curse your own daughter just to win a petty, jealous game!” Amelia’s face was contorted with rage. “Did you think I didn’t know what you did back then?” “Julian was by my side after the car crash. He told me everything! I gave birth while I was in a coma, and you killed our baby! You drove Julian out of the country and seized control of the company. You’ve done every evil thing imaginable.” “I’ve tolerated you for ten years because you stayed by my side and took care of the house. But you just can’t be satisfied, can you? You keep bullying Julian, and now you’re cursing my own daughter!” A bodyguard pinned my arms. Amelia grabbed a slice of the greasy cake and started shoving it into my mouth. The scent of mango filled my lungs, and I began to cough and gasp for air as my throat started to swell shut. I struggled wildly. “Stop it! Amelia, have you forgotten? I’m allergic to mangoes…” Amelia froze for a second, then her face hardened again. “You did so many unforgivable things to Julian. This is just an allergy. It won’t kill you. Stop being such a dramatic weakling. You are going to eat this entire cake and then you are going to get on your knees and beg Julian for forgiveness.” My eyelids were swelling. Breathing became a desperate struggle. I closed my eyes, resigning myself to the darkness. Seeing me go limp, Amelia finally stopped, a flicker of panic in her eyes. “Where is his allergy medication?! Find it, now!” After she forced the pill down my throat, my airways slowly opened. I blinked, my eyes red and swollen. Amelia let out a breath of relief, her expression awkward. “There. Now you and Julian are even. Just swear that you will never hurt or harass Julian or his future children again.” Her face lit up with a new idea. “Julian is a rising star in the business world now. You, on the other hand, do nothing but enjoy a life of leisure at home. You should also swear to help him raise his children. You’ll treat them as if they were your own.” “I promise,” she added magnanimously, “I’ll even set aside one or two days a week to spend with you and Lily.” When I didn’t respond, her patience wore thin. “What are you still angry about? If you hadn’t interfered back then, if you hadn’t killed our baby and forced Julian to flee the country, if I hadn’t been forced to marry you to save the company, my child with Julian would be the same age as Lily now.” “The happy life you and Lily have now was stolen from Julian! What right do you have to be upset?” I couldn’t listen to another word. “Don’t you dare mention my daughter’s name again!” I interrupted. “You can have Julian back. I’ve already sent you the divorce papers.” She scoffed. “Fine. I’ll hire the best lawyers and fight you for custody of Lily. A kept man like you doesn’t stand a chance against me.” “If you don’t want to be separated from Lily, then get on your knees and apologize to me. Right now.” That was the last straw. I pulled out Lily’s death certificate and threw it in her face. “Amelia! Read it yourself! Lily is dead! You killed her!” The black and white words “CERTIFICATE OF DEATH” and the name “LILY HAYES” seemed to hit her like a physical blow. She staggered backward. “That’s impossible…” Suddenly, Julian cried out. “What? How can that be? Lily’s nanny just texted me. She said Lily can’t find you and won’t stop crying.” He turned to Amelia. “The assistant mentioned he went to the hospital this morning. You don’t think he went there to forge a death certificate, do you?” A sharp slap cracked across my face, sending me tumbling down the stairs. From the top of the landing, Amelia’s furious voice rained down on me. “David, you are so consumed with jealousy that you would curse your own daughter? You would forge a death certificate just to hurt Julian?” “You are unfit to be a father!” she shrieked, incandescent with rage. “Even a beast doesn’t eat its own young. You’re worse than an animal!” I struggled to my feet. “Amelia, you are a complete and utter fool.” I reached for the photo album on the floor, but Amelia’s stiletto heel slammed down on my hand, pinning it to the ground. “Get out!” she screamed. “You pathetic scum! Don’t you ever set foot in the Astor house again! And don’t even think about taking anything that belongs to me or my child with you!” On her command, the bodyguards smashed our luggage and threw the pieces into the trash bins outside. The photo album, the one Lily and I had so lovingly made together, was torn to shreds and thrown out after it. My eyes burning, I knelt down, trying to gather the last memories my daughter had left me, but the tiny pieces slipped through my fingers. Julian opened a window. A gust of wind swept through the yard, scattering the torn photographs like ashes. “Oops,” he said with a fake gasp. “I was just trying to air out the smell of vomit Mr. Hayes left behind. The house stinks.” “Ignore him,” Amelia said, her voice filled with contempt. “He doesn’t even care if his own daughter lives or dies. Do you really think he cares about some stupid photos? He’s just putting on a show for me.” A hollow, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Amelia, remember what you did to me and my daughter today. I swear, one day, you will pay for it.” I staggered back to the funeral home. A staff member, her face full of sympathy, handed me a small urn shaped like a pink kitten. “I heard your daughter’s birthday wish this year was to go to the theme park with the pink kitten mascot,” she said softly. “I thought… she might like a box like this. I hope… I hope she can find peace.” A lump formed in my throat. I hugged the urn, tears streaming down my face. A complete stranger wanted to grant my daughter’s last wish, a wish her own mother had ignored. “On behalf of Lily, thank you,” I said, bowing deeply. After finalizing the funeral arrangements, I met with my lawyer. I gave him the surveillance footage from the amusement park and the signed divorce papers. “She doesn’t deserve to be Lily’s mother,” I said, my voice raw. “I want everyone to know what she did.” I choked back my tears and spent the last of my savings on a custom-tailored suit. I wanted to say goodbye to my daughter with dignity. But as I was preparing for the funeral, my heart a shattered mess, Amelia appeared at my apartment. The moment I opened the door, one of her bodyguards kicked me square in the chest. “Do you think I’m a patient woman?” she snarled. “Do you think I will tolerate you endlessly harassing Julian?” “You found out I was planning a birthday celebration for him, that I was having a custom suit made. So, in retaliation, you told every designer in the city not to work with him. You wanted to humiliate him, didn’t you?” I knew immediately what had happened. A designer friend of mine, wanting to avenge me, had blacklisted Julian throughout the entire fashion community. I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip. “So what if I did? You two murdered my daughter. Why should you get to celebrate anything?” Amelia kicked me with the pointed toe of her high heel. “When are you going to stop with this nonsense? Stop cursing your own child!” “How did I kill my daughter?” she demanded. “No matter how much I despise you, I would never harm my own flesh and blood! In fact, I’ve been more than good to Lily!” “You wanted the park I booked for Julian, so I let you have it. She wanted me to play with her, didn’t she? I personally sent her on the ride myself. What more could you possibly want?” She scoffed. “Don’t tell me you can die from a simple amusement park ride. Your lies are getting more ridiculous by the minute.” She snatched the suit from my hands, threw it on the floor, and stomped on it. “You said Lily was dead, right? Then what’s her father doing ordering such an expensive suit? Getting all dressed up to find your next sugar mama?” A sharp pain shot through my heart. I grabbed the suit and shoved her out the door. “Amelia, I hope you can still speak with such confidence three days from now.” I could hear her cursing from the hallway. I collapsed onto my bed and fell into a numb, dreamless sleep. That night, another knock echoed through the apartment. Annoyed, I wrenched the door open and found Julian standing there. He shoved past me into the room. I immediately grabbed for him. “Well, well,” he sneered, snatching the pink kitten urn from the small memorial I had set up in the living room. “She really is dead.” “Good riddance. With your daughter dead, and you dead next, the entire Astor fortune will be mine.” “Put that down!” I roared, my eyes turning red as I lunged at him. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my hair and yanked me back. “You bastard, David! Julian came here to apologize to you, and you dare attack him!” Julian hadn’t expected Amelia to be there. His eyes darted around nervously. When he saw her gaze fall on the urn in his hands, he immediately started shouting. “That’s the box! He used the powder in that box to poison our baby! I remember it perfectly! Now he’s trying to use it to kill me!” “You’re lying!” I screamed. “That’s my daughter’s urn! Give me back my daughter’s urn!” “You dare curse Lily again!” Amelia slapped me hard across the face. “Who has a pink urn? The lies you tell to hurt Julian are getting more and more pathetic!” She took the box from his hands. As I screamed in anguish, she raised it high and smashed it onto the floor. “NO!” I howled, scrambling forward, but she kicked me away. “Trying to grab your box of poison? Who else are you planning to harm?” With a sickening crack, the urn shattered, scattering ash and tiny, unburnt fragments of bone across the floor. A raw, primal scream tore from my throat. The pain in my chest was so intense I couldn’t breathe. Amelia’s face, once flushed with anger, slowly drained of all color, turning a ghostly, horrified white as she stared at the scattered remains. “What… what is this…?”

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I saw the new transfer student slip a box of extra-thin condoms into my childhood best friend’s pocket. She saw me looking and covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea, sweetie. These aren’t for me and your man.” Leo chimed in, his voice already laced with annoyance. “We ran out of the rubber membranes for the lab experiment. These are just a substitute. Don’t overthink it.” He thought I was going to throw a fit, like I always did. But I just looked down and went back to my textbook. Leo didn’t know that the day I saw him sharing an ice cream cone with her, I had already decided to transfer to a school abroad. As far as I was concerned, he was already out of the picture. 1 “We’re just using them for an experiment, Hailey. Stop being so irrational.” I hadn’t even said a word, but Leo was already on the defensive, rubbing his temples like he was bracing for a fight. Honestly, I hadn’t even been paying attention to them. I only looked up because they were being loud and I was trying to do a listening exercise for my French class. I rewound the audio and put my headphones back on. Leo seemed taken aback by my silence. The new girl, Chloe, nudged him. “Looks like your little girlfriend has a new strategy. She knows being pushy doesn’t work, so now she’s playing hard to get. You’d better go comfort her before she gives you the silent treatment for real.” “Comfort her?” Leo scoffed. “She’s not my wife. You go comfort her if you want.” “Ouch. Careful, or she might actually stop talking to you for good.” I felt his eyes on me, but I didn’t look up. “I’d pray for it,” he said, his voice cold. Chloe just giggled. “You’re so mean to her.” The classroom started to fill up, and their voices faded into the general buzz. I finished my French exercise just as my family’s butler called. “Miss, all the arrangements have been made. You’ll be leaving in seven days. I’ve also sent the information regarding Mr. Leo to your mother.” “Okay,” I said, my eyes drifting to where Leo and Chloe were whispering together. She slipped her hand under the collar of his shirt, and he didn’t pull away. I looked away, my voice flat. “After my mother has reviewed it, please inform her that I am breaking off my engagement to Leo, and that all joint projects with his family’s company are to be terminated.” 2 When I came out of the principal’s office, having confirmed that the donation my family had promised for a new computer lab would still go through even after I left, he was practically bowing to me. As I turned the corner, I ran into Leo and Chloe. “Leo, your little fiancée was just in the principal’s office,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with fake concern. “You don’t think she was telling on us, do you?” She put on a pathetic, frightened face and reached for my hand. “Please, don’t get the wrong idea. We really were just using those for a science experiment. We didn’t break any rules.” I pulled my hand away, a wave of disgust washing over me. “I don’t know you. Please call me by my name, Hailey.” Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears. “I… I was just trying to be friendly. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to get close to someone like you. Please, Hailey, don’t tell the principal. I’ll stay away from Leo from now on, I promise!” Leo stepped in front of her, his expression a mixture of anger and frustration. “Hailey, this is a school. Stop acting like a spoiled princess.” He glared at me. “You’re going to go back in there and tell the principal that you were just joking, that Chloe and I are just friends.” “It’s okay, Leo,” Chloe said, peeking out from behind him. “Everyone knows you and Hailey are inseparable. It was my fault for even thinking I could be friends with you.” She turned to leave, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Leo grabbed her arm, his eyes locked on mine. “You know, Hailey, you’re really disgusting. I’m a person, too. Why do I have to be tied to you all the time? I can’t even have my own friends! Did you buy me or something?” They went on like this, a perfectly rehearsed scene. When they finally paused for breath, I looked at Leo, at the undisguised loathing in his eyes, and said softly, “Didn’t I?” 3 I’ve always had trouble connecting with people. Besides my parents, I’ve never been close to anyone. When I was five, I was kidnapped by one of my father’s business rivals. I managed to escape, but they almost caught me again. Leo, who was just a little boy himself, stood in front of me, protecting me, and got two of his ribs broken for his trouble. In his hospital room, I, the girl who had never shown any interest in other children, told my parents I wanted to be friends with him. They were stunned. It was the first time I had ever expressed a desire for a friend. After a thorough background check, they agreed. And Leo’s parents… their eyes lit up with a greedy, triumphant light. My mother came from an old, established New York family. My father was the head of a massive Hong Kong conglomerate. For their son to befriend me, to be connected to my family… it was the opportunity of a lifetime. From then on, they were always at our house, always encouraging us to spend time together, always hinting at a future between us. My mother, worried about my social isolation, asked me if I would be okay with being with just Leo. I didn’t really have strong feelings about it, but seeing the concern in her eyes, I just nodded. I didn’t want to be a burden to them. So, the next time Leo’s mother brought up what a perfect couple we were, my mother made a verbal promise of engagement. That one, informal promise was enough to catapult Leo’s family into the upper echelons of New York society. His parents were ecstatic. They pushed Leo to be with me constantly, to keep me happy, to make sure I never changed my mind. But as Leo got older, he started to resent it. The boy who had once patiently read to me, who had always known how to make me smile, was replaced by a sullen, resentful teenager. He hated it when people called us a couple. And then Chloe arrived. The first time I saw her, she was sitting at my desk, rummaging through my things. “Leo, is your deskmate really a girl? All her stuff is so ugly. She has the worst taste.” Leo was leaning against my desk, a lazy smile on his face. “She’s not like you, all pink and girly.” “I am not girly!” Chloe pouted, and in her dramatic protest, she knocked my water bottle to the floor, where it shattered. When he saw me standing there, his smile vanished. “Chloe’s new here. She didn’t mean it. Just let it go.” I just looked at Chloe. “That was an eight hundred dollar water bottle. You have three days to pay me back.” She gasped. “Eight hundred dollars for a water bottle? Who do you think you are, a princess?” Someone behind her whispered, “She kind of is. Her family donated the new science wing.” Chloe’s face went from pale to beet red. “It was an accident! Why should I have to pay for it?” She tugged on Leo’s sleeve. “She’s just a rich snob.” “Hailey, come on,” Leo said, his voice full of a weary frustration. “It was an accident. And it’s not like eight hundred dollars is a lot of money to you. Just drop it. Don’t be so aggressive.” “Fine,” I said. “You pay for it. Eight hundred dollars. Venmo me now.” His face darkened. “Are you serious? Over eight hundred dollars?” “Yes,” I said. “My family’s money didn’t grow on trees.” The whole class was watching. Mortified, he pulled out his phone and sent me the money. Then he started packing up his books. “Chloe, you said you needed help with calculus, right? I’ll be your new deskmate.” He said it to her, but he was looking at me, waiting for me to object, to beg him to stay. I just stepped aside to give him room to move his things. He glared at me, then slammed his books down on the desk next to Chloe. In that moment, I knew I had to talk to my parents. I was fine on my own. I had their love. I didn’t need any friends. 4 The principal was on his way out when he saw us standing in the hallway. “Leo,” he said with a smile, “are you leaving early today, too?” Leo looked at me, confused. “Too? Where are you going?” “A math competition,” I said, my voice flat. The principal looked surprised for a second, then he seemed to understand. He just wished me luck and left. Back in class, our teacher was announcing the winners of the “Most Improved” scholarship. It was a scholarship my family had established to help students who were struggling but showing progress. As the teacher was talking, I heard Chloe whisper to Leo, “Thanks for all your help. As soon as I get the scholarship money, I’m taking you out to dinner.” “No problem,” he said with a smirk. But then the teacher called out a different name: “And the winner of the Most Improved scholarship is… Tiffany Liu!” Chloe shot up from her seat. “What? It should be me!” The teacher frowned. “If you have a problem, you can see me after class. Don’t disrupt the lesson.” As soon as the bell rang, Chloe chased after the teacher. She came back a few minutes later and collapsed onto her desk, sobbing. “Just because you’re rich, you think you can do whatever you want!” Everyone gathered around her, asking what the teacher had said. She stood up and marched over to my desk. “I know this scholarship is from your family, Hailey. But you can’t just abuse your power like that. Just because I’m friends with Leo, you’re jealous, so you took my name off the list? How could you be so cruel?” The whole class was stunned, their eyes now on me. I looked up from my book. “Did the teacher tell you that?” Chloe’s eyes darted away. “Do you think I’m lying? Everyone knows Leo can’t stand you anymore. You have that stupid engagement, so of course you hate me. You don’t know what it’s like to be poor. I really need that money. Please, I’ll give you back your precious Leo, just give me the scholarship.” Leo, who had just come back into the room, saw Chloe crying in front of me and his face hardened. “Hailey, if you have a problem with me, take it up with me. Don’t bully a girl.” *A girl?* I felt a new level of disgust. “First of all, your ‘little girl’ is a year older than us. She’s repeating a grade. Second…” I looked at Chloe and held up my phone, which was recording. “Everything you just said is slander. I could sue you for it.” Chloe went pale and hid behind Leo. “Fine. I can’t fight you. I’ll just let Tiffany have the scholarship. It’s a good lesson for me. The world is a cruel place.” Leo’s eyes filled with a pained sympathy for her. “Hailey, Chloe improved her score by a hundred points. Don’t take your anger at me out on her. We’re not your pawns!” Just then, Tiffany, a quiet, introverted girl who rarely spoke, stood up from her desk in the corner. She was trembling, her eyes red. She walked over to us, her voice shaking but firm. “Hailey didn’t abuse her power. I deserved that scholarship. My parents are dead, and my grandmother is paralyzed. We live on a small disability check. When Hailey found out, she was the one who convinced her family’s foundation to create this scholarship.” “But even though it was created for me, my grades were so bad, I never qualified. Until this semester. I improved my score by 109 points, and my class rank went up by 305 places. I worked hard for this. I deserve this. And Hailey… Hailey doesn’t deserve to be slandered like this!” By the time she finished, she was crying. 5 The classroom was silent. Then, a few whispers. “Hailey can be a little cold, but she’s never been a bully.” “Yeah, she’s never looked down on anyone.” “And that scholarship is a lot of money. Her family is really generous.” “Tiffany really did improve a lot. She deserved it.” The tide of opinion had turned. Chloe’s face was a mixture of white and red. She couldn’t take it anymore and ran out of the room, sobbing. Leo just looked at me, his expression complicated. “Even if you didn’t rig it, did you have to embarrass her like that? We’re all classmates.” I finally looked up at him, a flicker of real anger in my eyes. “Leo, you have some nerve.” I had never spoken to him like that before. He was my only friend, and as long as he didn’t cross a line, I was willing to keep him around, if only to appease my parents. He was stunned, then a flush of shame and anger spread across his face. “You’re being irrational,” he spat, and stormed out of the room. Chloe didn’t come back for the rest of the day. And for the first time ever, Leo skipped class. My mother, being in a different time zone, hadn’t yet been informed of the broken engagement. That night, I was reading in bed when I got a text from an unknown number. It was a picture of several opened condom wrappers. The text underneath read: **”You stole my scholarship, so I stole your man. You really thought we were just using them for an experiment? Idiot.”** Even though I had expected it, seeing the proof still made my stomach turn. I didn’t reply. I just screenshotted the picture and the text and sent it to my butler. **”Include this with the announcement of the broken engagement.”

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The day Rhys Caldwell threw me out, he did it to ruin me. And then he divorced me. The snow in Chicago that afternoon was a thick, blinding curtain. I had his baby in my belly and a permanent limp in my left leg—a souvenir from the accident where I’d saved his life. I hobbled away from the grand stone mansion that had been my home, my prison. He watched from the second-floor balcony, a new woman tucked into the curve of his arm. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, the smoke a lazy curl in the frigid air. He was savoring the spectacle of my destruction. The days that followed were a special kind of hell. To survive, I had to agree to marry a man in his forties, to become a stepmother to his eight-year-old son. But the night before the wedding, Rhys dragged me back to his house. His face was a mask of fury I had never seen before, his voice a blade of ice as he cornered me. “You kill my child behind my back, just so you can go play mommy to some old man’s spawn?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Sadie… how dare you?” 1 On the day Rhys kicked me out, the snow fell like ash. I was holding my six-year-old sister’s hand, about to step past the wrought-iron gates, when Arthur, the butler, stopped me. “Miss Miller,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Mr. Caldwell’s instructions were that you are not to take a single thread that belongs to this house.” He gestured delicately. “The down coat you’re wearing, and the boots… Mr. Caldwell purchased those.” I understood. I lowered my gaze, my silence a shield as I unzipped the parka and slid it off my shoulders. I pulled off the warm, fur-lined boots. The wind hit me instantly, driving icy pellets against my bare arms. A violent shiver wracked my body. Stepping onto the thick blanket of snow, my bare feet screamed in protest. I looked back, up to the second-floor balcony. Rhys was there, leaning against the railing with a casual indolence. His left arm was wrapped around Brooke, his right hand holding that cigarette. He was watching me, his expression one of detached, pleasant amusement. Brooke, however, was glowing with the pure, unadulterated triumph of a victor. She unlooped a gray cashmere scarf from around her own neck and let it drop, a soft spiral falling through the air. “Why would Rhys ever want something so… cheap?” she called out, her voice laced with laughter. “Arthur, make sure that goes in the trash.” I had knitted him that scarf two months ago. He had wrapped it around his neck, smiling, and brought my hands to his lips. “My wife has magic in her fingers,” he’d murmured. Now, it was all ash. My family was bankrupt. My father was in prison. Rhys didn’t have to pretend anymore. The day he’d forced me to sign the divorce papers, he had looked at me with cold, dead eyes and dismantled me, piece by piece, with his words. “Sadie, do you know why I never wanted to be on top when we were in bed? Why I never wanted to see your face?” “Do you know why I had to take a scalding hot shower for an hour every single time after I touched you?” “Because the sight of you makes me sick. Because the thought of you, of what you are, is disgusting.” His voice was low, clinical. “If I hadn’t needed to destroy your father, did you really think a woman who throws herself at men like you would ever have been an option for me?” The words were poison, a slow-acting venom that constricted my chest until I couldn’t breathe. Tears burned my eyes, hot and useless. It was then that I finally, truly accepted it: he had never loved me. And so, I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. There was no point. With an ocean of blood and betrayal between us, our story was always destined to be a tragedy. This child never should have been conceived. 2 With no money and no insurance, my only option was a back-alley clinic in a part of town I’d only ever driven through. My luck held true to form. I started hemorrhaging on the table. For a few minutes there, I almost died. When I woke up, my little sister, Paige, was asleep in a chair beside the bed, her face tear-stained. I stroked her fine, blonde hair. “It’s okay, sweetie,” I whispered. “I’m okay.” I said it for her, but a cold fear was still coiled in my gut. If I had died, what would have happened to Paige? It was just the two of us now. We only had each other. I had to live. I had to find a way to raise her. Making money, I learned quickly, was brutal. The only real skill I had was dancing. I’d trained my whole life. But the car crash four years ago—the one where I’d swerved to shield Rhys’s side of the car with my own—had shattered my leg. It had healed, but not perfectly. A slight, almost imperceptible limp remained. You had to be looking for it to see it, but it was there. An echo of the break. I could never dance professionally again. After weeks of dead ends, I decided to start a food cart. Grilled cheese and tomato soup. I’d grown up with private chefs, clueless in a kitchen. But Rhys had loved grilled cheese, a simple comfort food from a childhood he never talked about. I had taught myself to make it for him, perfecting the golden crust, the perfect cheese pull. I never imagined that stupid skill would one day become the only thing keeping my sister and me from starving. The business was surprisingly good. I worked late into the frozen nights, my fingers swelling with chilblains until they were raw and cracked, but I never complained. I just never expected Rhys and Brooke to appear in the warm glow of my cart’s lights. They were a vision of wealth and glamour, arm in arm, a perfectly matched set. Their presence made my own worn coat and exhausted face feel like a costume for poverty. Brooke looked me up and down, a hand flying to her mouth in mock surprise. “Wow. Who would’ve thought the great Sadie Miller, the debutante of the year, would end up looking like she sleeps on the street?” I had a line of customers. I didn’t have time for this. “If you’re not buying, please move,” I said, my voice flat. Brooke immediately crumpled against Rhys’s arm. “Rhys, see? She’s still so mean to me!” Rhys, ever the protector, shot me a look of pure ice. “I’d advise you to be polite to Brooke,” he warned, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Otherwise, I can’t guarantee this little… venture… of yours will still be here tomorrow.” It was a naked threat. And with the power he wielded in this city, I knew it was one he could effortlessly enforce. I clenched my fists inside my coat pockets, biting the inside of my lip until I tasted blood. I said nothing. Seeing my submission, Brooke’s smug smile returned. Rhys looked down at her, his voice softening. “You said you wanted soup. Are you still hungry?” “Starving,” she chirped. A sale was a sale. I needed the money more than I needed my pride. I took a deep breath and pointed to the Square reader taped to the counter. “It’s fifteen dollars. You pay first.” A moment later, the transaction pinged on my phone. I turned to the griddle and began to cook. 3 I thought that night was just a fluke, a cruel twist of fate. But the next day, two of Rhys’s men showed up. They didn’t say a word. They just overturned my cart, sending soup and bread spilling into the gutter, and smashed my equipment. The official reason? Brooke had been hospitalized with food poisoning. And the only thing she’d eaten the night before was my grilled cheese. It was an obvious, transparent lie. A setup. I couldn’t understand it. She had Rhys. She had won. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? From that day on, it became a pattern. Rhys sent his men to harass me every single day. No matter where I moved my battered cart, they found me. My business was destroyed. I didn’t know how I was going to make next month’s rent. Finally, out of options, I called him. I begged him to leave me in peace. “The food poisoning wasn’t me, Rhys, I swear it. Can you please, just this once, believe me?” He didn’t. His voice was hard, unforgiving. “You want me to leave you alone? Fine. Get on your knees and apologize to Brooke.” I was silent, stunned. “You will kneel for twelve hours,” he continued calmly. “Then we’ll call it even. Otherwise, you can forget about ever selling a sandwich in this city again.” This was the man who once claimed he would catch the stars for me if I shed a single tear. Now he was trying to break me, to humiliate me for Brooke’s amusement. But even in poverty, even in desperation, I still had a spine. I wiped away a hot tear of fury. “You know, Rhys, you’re a real piece of work. Tormenting a woman to soothe your girlfriend’s ego.” My voice shook. “I was so blind. I can’t believe I ever loved you.” His breathing on the other end of the line hitched, becoming ragged and heavy, as if I’d struck him. “You think I give a damn about your love?” he snarled, the words tearing from him. “Sadie, you were nothing to me but a tool for my revenge.” It was a vicious thing to say, but my heart was already so numb, so scarred over, that it barely registered. I bit back with the first cruel thing that came to mind. “Good. Because to me, you were just a placeholder. Something to do.” Before he could explode, I hung up the phone. 4 When I got back to our tiny apartment, Paige saw my red-rimmed eyes. She reached up and gently touched my face. “Did someone bully you again, Sadie?” she asked, her small voice full of concern. “I wish I could grow up faster, so I could protect you.” Our mother had died of an illness not long after Paige was born. Our father… well, our father was never the nurturing type. Paige had always clung to me. I forced a smile and smoothed back her hair. “What if we left this city?” I asked softly. “Just you and me. Would that be okay?” She nodded immediately. “Anywhere you go, I’ll go.” Then she hesitated. “What about Dad? Is he coming with us?” She was too young to understand the full scope of it. She knew something bad had happened, that we were poor now, but she didn’t know Dad was in prison. I chose my words carefully. “Dad made a mistake, a big one. He’s being punished for it. He… he won’t be home for a very, very long time.” She tilted her head. “What did he do? Was it really bad?” Yes. It was really bad. Twenty years ago, to force a sale on a valuable piece of land, he had set fire to the Caldwell family’s factory. Rhys’s father had been asleep in the office that night. He never made it out. So, of course, Rhys hated my father. He hated my entire family. His quest for revenge was the most normal thing in the world. He’d changed his name, hidden his past, and waited years to avenge his father. It was an act of filial piety. My dad was a criminal. He deserved what he got. I would never defend him. But I couldn’t not blame Rhys. He could have chosen a hundred other ways to get his revenge. Why did he have to use my heart as his weapon? And even now, with his vengeance complete, he wouldn’t let me go. He just kept pushing, kept tormenting me. I was powerless against him. The only option was to run. To save money, I booked tickets on a Greyhound bus to Madison. A slow, lumbering route away from my life. But on the city bus to the station, Paige suddenly collapsed. I rushed her to the nearest hospital in a blind panic, my world shrinking to the sound of sirens. And there, under the harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room, my world fell apart completely. Paige had leukemia. The words echoed in the sterile room, shattering everything. I sat by her bed, the sobs ripping through me, unstoppable. Paige, small and pale against the white sheets, squeezed my hand. “Don’t be sad, Sadie,” she whispered, her voice impossibly small. “I don’t feel bad. Really.” She looked around the room. “I don’t like it here. I don’t want shots. Can we just go home?” I knew what she was doing. She knew I didn’t have any money. My brave, sweet, selfless little sister. A fresh wave of guilt and self-loathing crashed over me. I was so useless. I couldn’t even afford to save her life.

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He was at the college reunion, a success story with a beautiful girlfriend on his arm. She said, “If you hadn’t let go back then, you’d be Mrs. Prescott right now.” He sat across from me, his arm around his girlfriend, his expression cool. “That’s all in the past.” The crowd, sensing drama, started to hoot and holler. Under his gaze, I quietly covered the scar on my wrist and forced a smile. “That’s right. We… we have nothing to do with each other anymore.” 1 “I remember it was Audrey who did the breaking up, right?” While his girlfriend was in the restroom, the gossip started to fly. Audrey. That’s me. Elliot Prescott sat across the table, a faint smile on his lips, but his eyes were glacial. This was the first time we’d seen each other in the six years since the breakup. It felt like an ambush. I only came because the reunion organizer said Elliot wasn’t coming. I never expected to see him here. The Elliot of today was the man everyone expected him to become: accomplished, a celebrated young entrepreneur, an Ivy League grad who’d made a fortune. He wore a tailored suit, his features sharp and handsome. The watch on his wrist alone was worth more than my car. Everyone in the room fawned over him, hanging on his every word. And then there was me. A shadow of my former self. “It’s true. She ended it.” Elliot’s voice was calm, answering their unspoken question. You could almost hear the gears turning in their heads, everyone writing their own version of the story. The consensus was obvious: I was a gold digger who couldn’t handle the struggle. I’d bet on the wrong horse and lost everything. “Audrey, I heard that guy you left him for ended up in prison, right?” “And left you with all his debt? You’re not here to hit us up for money, are you?” Through the cascade of snide remarks, Elliot’s deep, quiet eyes remained fixed on me. He said nothing. I offered a strained laugh, giving no answer. The door swung open and his girlfriend, Isabelle, returned. Sensing the strange atmosphere, she smiled. “What did I miss?” The silence from Elliot vanished. He took her hand, his voice softening. “Nothing. Just catching up.” She settled gracefully into her seat, her gaze landing on me. A dimple appeared at the corner of her smiling mouth. “Elliot’s told me about you. If you hadn’t let go back then, you’d be Mrs. Prescott right now.” Gleams of schadenfreude appeared in more than a few eyes around the table. Back in college, my family was prominent. Everywhere I went, I was the center of attention. That kind of envy doesn’t fade with time; years later, it just becomes a reason for them to kick you when you’re down. Elliot broke the suffocating silence, his voice cool and final. “That’s all in the past.” The table went quiet. They understood the man at the head of the table didn’t want to continue the conversation, so they quickly changed the subject. Isabelle raised her glass to me. “Thank you for letting him go. You have to promise you’ll come to our wedding.” I silently covered the scar on my wrist, my voice wooden. “Congratulations.” 2 “Why didn’t you just tell him the truth?” On the phone, my best friend Maya was practically vibrating with indignation on my behalf. The reunion ended early. I stood in the biting wind, my coat wrapped tight around me, watching my breath turn to smoke. “He has a girlfriend.” The other end of the line went silent for a beat. “A girlfriend?” Maya’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Mmmhmm.” Groups of two and three drifted away from the restaurant. The streetlights cast a shattered-glass glow on the fresh layer of snow. “But you finally saw him. After you’ve worked so hard for so long—” “Maya, nobody waits forever.” Some things, if you don’t say them in the moment, are pointless to say later. They just leave a sour taste in everyone’s mouth. The wind made my eyes sting and I blinked against the burn. “I’m giving up.” Even after all these years of fighting my way out of the mud, trying to find the most dignified way to see him again… it was too late. “Okay,” she said softly. “Just come home.” The pre-Christmas chill had dropped the temperature below freezing. Getting a rideshare was impossible. I stood there for just a few minutes before my hands went numb. My phone screen glowed: Finding your ride. The sharp clack-clack of heels on pavement approached from behind, followed by a woman’s melodic voice. “Elliot, the snow is so beautiful.” “It’s cold out here. Go wait in the car, I’ll be right there.” Elliot’s voice was unmistakable. “Don’t be long.” As the woman passed me, she shot me a look loaded with meaning. She walked to a black sedan parked a few feet away and pulled open the door. The movement was perfectly calculated to show off the bracelet on her wrist, a flash of diamonds that seared my eyes. It was the Prescott family heirloom. It used to be on my wrist. When we broke up, I had a friend return it to him. So, she wasn’t just his girlfriend. She was his fiancée. The crowd had thinned until it was just the two of us. My car still hadn’t arrived. Elliot stood behind me, not saying a word. We were two silent figures under a streetlight, our shadows overlapping on the snow. My mind drifted back to the night we broke up. Elliot had been in a car accident on his way to see me. His best friend had called, his voice raw with anger. “Elliot’s in the hospital.” “Is it life-threatening?” “So you won’t come if it’s not?” “Please, just take care of him.” “Audrey, he got the London scholarship. He’s going to make it, you know he is. Why couldn’t you wait? Are you that desperate for money? After everything he’s done for you, things you could never repay in a hundred lifetimes, have you forgotten all of it?” He was practically screaming at me through the phone, one step away from calling me a heartless bitch. Then, the phone was snatched away and slammed down. You could say I abandoned him. It was only natural that he hated me. “How much do you owe?” Elliot’s cold voice pulled me from my thoughts. “It has nothing to do with you.” I sucked in a breath of frigid air. It scraped against my throat, raw from the wine, and I burst into a fit of coughing. It felt like my windpipe was tearing apart. I bent over, clutching the lamppost for support as the wine churned in my stomach. The coughing forced tears from my eyes. Elliot stood beside me, watching impassively. A car finally pulled up. The driver leaned over from the inside. “Ride for The Atherton Estates?” “Yes.” I pushed myself up from my knees, took a breath, and reached for the door. A hand clamped around my arm, yanking me back. I stumbled into Elliot’s chest. “What are you doing there?” he demanded. The Atherton Estates was where the city’s old money lived. They didn’t just let anyone through the gates. I tried to shove his hand away, but he caught my wrist, his grip like iron. The heat of his skin burned straight through to my heart. I struggled again, but it was useless. I looked up at his face, dark and unreadable in the dim light. “What is it you want to say, Mr. Prescott?” His lips thinned into a hard line, his black eyes deep and still, betraying nothing. The wind howled, whipping my hair across my face. I pulled my lips into a smirk, voicing the thought I knew was in his head. “You think I’m making money on my back, don’t you? Just like everyone else.” “Fifty thousand a month. Is that enough?” Elliot’s voice cut through mine, sharp and cold. “What are you talking about?” A sneer finally touched his lips. “You need money, don’t you? Fifty thousand. A hundred. Name your price.” My hand flew up. The sharp crack of the slap echoed in the night air. A perfect red handprint bloomed on his cheek. In the distance, I heard a woman’s gasp. The car door opened and Isabelle rushed out. “Live your life, Elliot. And stay out of mine.” I left him with those words and got in the car. 3 “You hit him?” Maya handed me a mug of hot water. “Yeah. He offered to make me his mistress.” I curled up on the sofa, trying to breathe through the waves of pain cramping my stomach, and slowly sipped the water. A minute later, I bolted for the bathroom and threw it all up. Maya rubbed my back. “You can’t drink when your stomach is this bad.” I gasped for air, rinsing my mouth and wiping the water from my lips. My esophagus burned. “Was it worth it? Loving him for all those years?” I met my own eyes in the mirror. My lashes were wet, my dark hair stuck to my forehead, my face pale. Maya’s grumbling seemed to come from far away, muffled and indistinct. “If you hadn’t been so ruthless and broken up with him, he wouldn’t be where he is today…” My thoughts turned to Isabelle. She had a brightness about her, a radiance that I remembered once having myself, a long, long time ago. But I had fallen too hard, and by the time I managed to crawl out of the gutter, everything had changed. After Maya finished her housekeeping shift at the Atherton Estates, we walked hand in hand back to our small apartment. My phone rang. It was Elliot’s best friend, Ryan. “Audrey, if you’re in trouble, I can get you a job.” I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “They’re getting married next month. Isabelle is a good person, her family’s well off. You should…” “I won’t bother him again. You don’t have to worry.” He paused, then offered a lame explanation. “We just want Elliot to be happy.” “I know.” Every single one of our old friends had, without exception, sided with Elliot. When I hung up, Maya’s eyes were red. “They don’t know anything.” “It doesn’t matter.” Since I had to stay in town for a while, I found a job not far from our apartment. During the interview, the HR manager asked hesitantly, “It says here you have a history of depression?” “That was a long time ago. I’m fine now. I have a doctor’s note to prove it.” Several other companies had rejected me during the background check because of it. This company was smaller, and that same evening, I got a call with a job offer. I thought the reunion would be the last time I ever saw Elliot. I was wrong. Three days later, he appeared at my new company. He was my new boss. And my desk was moved to the spot right outside his office door. “I refuse.” “Fine.” Elliot didn’t even look up from his papers. “Submit your resignation to HR.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “You’re firing me because I won’t move my desk?” His pen stopped moving. He finally graced me with his attention. “I’m merely providing you with an option. Or did you think I was after something?” His words caught in my throat. I thought of Maya arguing with our landlord last night over a small rent increase, and I forced a smile. “Of course not, Mr. Prescott. You’re a man of integrity.” Elliot gave a slight nod. “Thank you. Close the door on your way out. And turn your chair so it faces away from my office. I don’t want to look at your face.” “…” The days that followed passed with almost no interaction between us. A week later, the company held a team-building dinner. As the new girl, I was an easy target for round after round of drinks. “Come on, Audrey, if you don’t drink, it might come out of your paycheck.” “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home if you get too drunk. We’re all women here, what’s there to be afraid of?” My manager smiled encouragingly. Amid the jeers of the others, I downed my last glass of the night and collapsed onto the table, unconscious. The next morning, I woke up in a king-sized bed. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, making it impossible to open my eyes. I pushed myself up, and the duvet slipped down, revealing that I was wearing a soft hotel bathrobe. I froze for a second, then got up and walked out of the bedroom. In the spacious living room, Elliot sat with his legs crossed, reading the morning paper. He was also wearing a hotel robe. When he saw me, he lifted his eyes and gave me a lazy glance. “You’re awake. Breakfast is on the table. Eat something and then go back to sleep.” A cold dread washed over me. My face went white. “Did we…?” Elliot tossed the paper onto the coffee table. He tugged his robe open slightly, revealing an angry-looking mark on his collarbone. “Unfortunately for you, you were the one who initiated it.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My memory of the night was a complete blank. “That’s impossible.” Elliot placed a contract in front of me. My thumbprint was stamped on the bottom. The text was simple: I would be his lover, and he would pay me one hundred thousand dollars a month. “There’s no way I signed this…” “Really?” Elliot let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Are you sure about that?” Faced with his steady, unnervingly calm gaze, my mouth opened, but no words came out. He ignored my panic and produced a small digital recorder. “I accidentally recorded a little monologue of yours last night. Care to hear your own filthy thoughts, Audrey?” A violent shiver ran through me. I was plunged into an icy bath of shame. To have those thoughts was one thing; to have them spoken aloud, recorded, and held as evidence against me felt like a crime. Elliot’s eyes were hooded, his expression unreadable. “Lusting after an engaged man… tsk, tsk. What do you think would happen if I played this for them, Audrey?” My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Are you doing this for revenge?” “Yes,” he answered simply. “You never wanted me to have an easy life. Why should I grant you one?” “You have two choices.” “Either you fulfill the contract, or I release this recording to the world.” The ticking of the clock on the wall echoed in my ears, each tick a hammer blow against my eardrum. My lips were dry and cracked. I looked up at him, my voice numb. “Then release it.” Under his cold, hard stare, I spoke again, my voice flat. “Elliot, I will not be the other woman.” He stared at me for a long moment, then smiled. “Audrey, who do you think you are?” “Do you really think you have a choice?”

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In my past life, when my husband, Julian, got cancer, everyone hid it from me. To set me free, he started cheating, verbally abusing me, and giving me the silent treatment. I couldn’t take it anymore and finally agreed to a divorce. That’s when his friends, perched on their moral high ground, told me the truth about his “selfless” intentions and his terminal diagnosis. I fell apart and killed myself to be with him. But after I died, Julian was saved. A miracle. I watched, a disembodied soul, as he sobbed at my grave. And then I watched as his friends convinced him to move on, to rebuild his life, to marry the woman he’d cheated on me with. So when I found myself back at that party, and Julian jokingly said, “Let’s get a divorce,” I didn’t get angry. I just said, very calmly, “Okay.” 1 The moment I said it, a strange, heavy silence fell over the room. The lavish private suite was suddenly quiet, but I didn’t seem to notice. I just kept my head down, calmly eating the dessert in my bowl. Julian’s hand, which had been holding Isabelle’s, slowly released its grip. His handsome face, moments before joking about being in love with someone else and wanting a divorce, was now a rigid, ugly mask. He clearly hadn’t expected me to say that. Or rather, he knew how much I loved him. He thought that even a joke like that would make me panic, get angry, maybe even cause a scene. How could I possibly have said “Okay” so calmly? His friends, each with their own ulterior motives, exchanged uneasy glances. The little drama they had orchestrated, expecting to see me humiliated and crying, had just crumbled. The plot had taken a ninety-degree turn, leaving them all scrambling. But I didn’t feel any satisfaction. I calmly looked from one face to the next, my gaze finally landing on Isabelle’s striking, beautiful features. In my last life, I considered her my best friend. But I had forgotten one crucial detail. She and Julian had been inseparable since they were kids. The same fierce loyalty she showed me in public was matched by the deep, painful stab she delivered to my back when it mattered most. Isabelle looked a little uncomfortable under my stare. She glanced instinctively at Julian. He was glaring at me, his jaw tight, his face a thundercloud. Her own expression flickered with something dark for a second. Then, she pasted on a bright, cheerful smile and came over to grab my arm. “Hey, Lena, don’t be mad. It was just a stupid joke that Alex came up with. We were just messing with you.” I took a step back, avoiding her hand. My face was expressionless. I looked at Julian. “But I’m not joking,” I said. “Seriously, Julian. Let’s get a divorce.” 2 Isabelle stood frozen between us, looking back and forth from me to Julian, the very picture of someone caught in the middle. She was a great actress. If I hadn’t died once, if my wandering soul hadn’t witnessed her kicking over my tombstone with a look of pure disgust, I would never have known the twisted jealousy that festered beneath her cool, confident exterior. This was the first time I’d ever seen her look so helpless. And even though I wasn’t the one who caused it, everyone in the room turned on me because of her. Alex shoved his chair back and stormed over. “Lena, don’t take it too far!” he snapped. “We already said it was a joke. You’re just trying to make a scene. Can’t you take a joke?” How ironic. They were the ones who made the joke. I was the victim. And yet, somehow, I was the one who couldn’t take it. Alex had always had a sharp tongue, his words dripping with sarcasm. I used to think it was just his personality, that he was like that with everyone, so I tried to ignore it. Later, I realized he was only like that with me. As Julian’s wife, I had never truly been accepted by his friends. I ignored Alex’s barking and kept my eyes locked on Julian. Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, Julian finally realized I was serious. A cold, humorless laugh escaped his lips. He grabbed Isabelle’s arm and pulled her into his arms. He stared at me, his eyes burning with a vengeful fire. “Fine,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “You said it. Don’t regret it. Pack your things. We’ll get the divorce papers tomorrow.” Then, in front of everyone, he lowered his head and kissed her. It was a rough, possessive kiss, fueled by anger. The sound of their lips, of their tongues tangling, filled the room. The soft lighting overhead created a dramatic scene: the woman’s pliant body bent backward, the man’s large, strong hand cupping the back of her delicate neck. It was like something out of a movie. I saw Isabelle make a weak show of pushing against his chest, then her hands crept up and wrapped around his neck. Someone gasped. Then came the excited clicks of phone cameras. I was standing closest to them. I saw every intimate, unspoken detail. My pale lips trembled. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. A soft, vulnerable part of me had been shattered. Something precious that I had hidden deep inside. The moment Julian kissed someone else, right in front of me, it broke. Quietly. Silently. I squeezed my eyes shut, my face a numb mask, and walked out of the room. 3 A light rain had started to fall outside. The world was a murky gray, the streetlights casting a hazy, yellow glow. The bare branches of the trees along the road clawed at the darkness, swaying menacingly in the cold wind. A couple stood next to me, whispering for a moment. Then the boy took off his jacket and draped it over the girl. They huddled together and ran into the rain, disappearing into a car parked down the street. I watched them, my mind feeling foggy. I felt like I had forgotten something important, but I couldn’t remember what. It wasn’t until I got home and started packing that I found it, at the very bottom of a storage box. An umbrella. The sight of it made the tears I’d been holding back finally break free. It was a clear, foldable umbrella. On the inside, I had drawn all my favorite cartoon characters with a black marker. One day after school, it started pouring. I was supposed to walk home with my friends, but then I saw my deskmate, Julian, standing under the eaves, staring at the gray sky, a look of lonely detachment on his face. He must have forgotten his umbrella. And there was no one at home to bring him one. My heart softened. After a moment of hesitation, I shoved my umbrella into his hands. “You can keep it! Consider it a thank you for helping me with my homework!” I said, trying to sound casual and carefree to hide the fluttering in my chest. I didn’t even dare to look at his reaction before I turned and ran to my friends, urging them to hurry up. My friends teased me about my beet-red face. I playfully pushed them, but my eyes kept drifting back through the rain. He was still there, a tall, slender figure in his blue and white school uniform, holding my umbrella tightly. The world was a downpour of gray, but all I could hear was the frantic pounding of my own heart. The next day, it was still raining. I don’t remember what I was feeling when I saw him again, but I remember every detail of him walking into the classroom from the back door. My clear, cartoon-covered umbrella wasn’t leaning against the wall in the hallway with all the other colorful ones. He was holding it in his long, pale hand, carefully wiping the raindrops from it with a soft handkerchief. Then he smoothed out the wrinkles, folded it neatly, and placed it carefully in his desk, next to his textbooks. Eighteen-year-old Julian looked up and met my gaze. He smiled, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. He told me he would cherish it forever. We hadn’t said the words yet, but in the silent space between our two young, wildly beating hearts, we both knew what he meant. He would cherish *me* forever. The rain had stopped. I wiped my tears, calmed myself down. I picked up the umbrella, long forgotten by its owner. The clear plastic was yellowed and cloudy, the cartoon drawings faded and blurred. The metal frame was rusted and broken, and it smelled of decay. I sat on the edge of the bed, holding it, and stared out into the night. I didn’t sleep at all. Sometime later, the darkness began to fade. A single ray of light broke through the clouds, casting my silhouette in stark black and white. My limbs were cold and stiff as I stood up, took the old umbrella, and threw it in the trash. Then, I called Julian’s number. That summer rain from our youth was finally over. 4 The phone rang for a long time before someone finally picked up. But the voice that answered was a woman’s, lazy and sleepy. “…Hello? Who is this?” She yawned. In my dead silence, it sounded a little forced. After a moment, Isabelle’s voice came again, this time low and apologetic. “I grabbed the wrong phone. Hold on, I’ll wake Julian up…” “Don’t bother,” I cut her off. My voice was flat. “Just tell him I have all the paperwork ready. 3 PM at the courthouse.” I hung up before she could respond. I hadn’t eaten since last night, but my stomach was churning. I felt like I was going to be sick. *I love you. I’ll never leave you.* All empty words. He could sleep with someone else without a second thought. Some people, no matter the reason, are just born to cheat. I remembered in my last life, when I “accidentally” walked in on them. The pain was so sharp I almost fainted. I lost all control, screaming at them like a madwoman. Isabelle had a look of apology on her face, but she kept saying it was a misunderstanding, an accident, and that I shouldn’t blame Julian. And Julian… he didn’t say a word in his defense. He just let me scream and cry and throw his past promises in his face. He just stood there, silent, as if he was hiding some terrible secret. As if he was the one who was suffering, the one who was making a great sacrifice. In the end, everyone took his side. They said he had his reasons, that he didn’t mean to hurt me, that I shouldn’t be so hard on him. They were the ones who did it. But somehow, I was the one who was wrong. His cold silence made me look like a lunatic. I started to doubt myself. Was I overreacting? Was I just being paranoid, ruining their years of “pure friendship”? Was that what pushed him to finally act on his feelings for her? I was in a daze when I finally agreed to the divorce. But after he gave me the papers, his condition worsened. Alex and the others, unable to watch him suffer any longer, came and yelled at me, saying it was my fault, that I had pushed him over the edge. Did I know, they asked, that he had done all of this, this cruel, self-destructive performance, just to set me free? We had been high school sweethearts, married right after college. Julian’s parents were dead. I was all he had. He knew I would never leave him, no matter what. So he chose this extreme, painful way to force me away. I had just started to accept the reality that he had cheated on me, that he didn’t love me anymore. And then they told me he had hurt me because he loved me *too much*. They said he could have lived for another two years. But because I had made such a scene, his condition had suddenly deteriorated. It was all my fault. It was my word against all of theirs. In the end, I broke. After one last look at Julian, unconscious in the ICU, I ran to the roof of the hospital and jumped. Looking back now, it was so stupid. This time, I chose to let myself go, to let go of the past. But I waited at the courthouse for a long time. The office was closing for the day when Julian finally showed up. 5 “I wasn’t feeling well. I only just woke up half an hour ago,” he explained before I could say a word. He was out of breath, his trench coat open to reveal a slightly rumpled shirt collar. His hair was a mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked at the closed doors of the courthouse and let out a breath. I couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of frustration or relief. “We’ll have to reschedule,” he said, his tone cool. There was nothing else to do. I told him to contact me when he had time, then turned to leave without another word. But then he said, “When you called this morning, Isabelle answered. What did she say to you?” His probing tone annoyed me. The resentment that had been building up inside me suddenly erupted. I spun around and sneered, “You were in the same bed, weren’t you? What did she say? Don’t you know?” He paused. To my surprise, his expression softened, like a storm cloud clearing. It was as if he had just confirmed something. He seemed genuinely relieved. His voice was unusually gentle as he explained, “You misunderstood. I drank too much last night. She brought me home. I wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed to take care of me.” Putting aside how ridiculous that sounded, I didn’t understand why, given our current situation, he felt the need to explain anything to me. But then I understood. Right in front of me, Julian started to cough. His face went pale. He winced, his handsome brows furrowing in pain, and coughed again, a wracking, painful sound. I couldn’t tell if he was faking it or not. Either way, it had nothing to do with me. I turned to leave. I heard hurried footsteps behind me, and then Julian’s hand was on my arm. His face was pale and drawn, his jaw tight. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well,” he hissed. “Don’t you even care?” I knew he was sick. I knew it was serious. But so what? I tried to pull my arm away. “Let go,” I said, frowning. He just tightened his grip, his expression turning even darker. He was the one who wanted a divorce. And now that I had agreed, he was the one who was angry. He glared at me for a long moment, then violently shoved my arm away. He coughed again, his voice heavy with suppressed emotion. “…Fine. I’ll let you go.” He sounded like he was in pain, like his heart was breaking. I didn’t hesitate. I turned and walked away. But then, I heard a loud thud behind me. Julian had collapsed. I called an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital. After a moment of hesitation, I called Isabelle. Once we were divorced, Julian would marry her anyway. It wasn’t my place, as the soon-to-be-ex-wife, to be there. Isabelle arrived quickly, without a word. Alex was with her. I stood up from the bench in the hallway, about to tell them Julian was in the ER, when Isabelle stormed up to me and slapped me. Hard. I was stunned. “You’re a fucking jinx!” she spat, her voice colder than I had ever heard it. “Are you happy now? Do you want him dead?” 6 I touched my numb cheek, my ear ringing. I raised my hand to slap her back. But Alex was faster. He shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the floor. He stood in front of Isabelle, looking down at me. “You even think about touching her, I dare you!” he roared. I pushed myself up on the cold, sterile floor, shaking with anger. Just then, the light above the ER door went out, and a doctor came out. Isabelle immediately forgot about me and rushed over, Alex right behind her. But as he passed me, he paused. Then, his expensive, Italian leather shoe came down, hard, on the back of my hand. He was a tall, muscular guy, and he put his full weight on it. A scream of pain escaped my lips, tears streaming down my face. I looked up at him. In the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway, his face was a blurry, malicious grin. “Go on,” he mouthed, a silent, demonic challenge. “Call the cops.” In that instant, I was thrown back into the darkness of my past life, the moral bullying, the mental breakdown. A bucket of ice water was dumped over my head, chilling me to the bone. The thought of calling the police, which had been so real a moment ago, turned to ash. I suddenly remembered. Alex’s family was powerful. Calling the police would be like calling him directly to complain about what he’d done. What would I get besides a dose of his cruel laughter? Before, he might have held back, afraid of what Julian would think. But now, with our relationship in ruins, he wasn’t hiding his hatred for me anymore. I used to wonder why he disliked me so much. Now I knew. He was Isabelle’s dog. Isabelle loved Julian, so he followed Julian like a loyal puppy. Isabelle hated me, so he hated me with a passion. I sat on the floor for a long time, waiting for the pain to subside, for the feeling to return to my hand. Then I got up and left, not looking back, desperate to escape. I called a moving company, packed up all my things, and left the bustling city center. I went back to my old family home in the suburbs. I opened the door to the sound of a drowsy, old-fashioned opera playing on the TV. The house smelled of mildew and old memories. An old woman in a wheelchair, dozing on the balcony, lifted her heavy, wrinkled eyelids. She saw me walk in with all my bags. A smug, mocking smile spread across her face. “See? What did I tell you? Kicked to the curb, weren’t you?” 7 I acted as if I hadn’t heard her, silently unpacking my things. My mother straightened up in her wheelchair and put on her reading glasses. She didn’t ask any questions, didn’t seem to care at all. She just immediately started trying to set me up with the neighbor’s son. “I told you not to punch above your weight. Why would a rich man like him ever want you? You’ve got no chest, no ass. And now look at you. He used you for a few years and then threw you out like trash.” “I never liked the look of that Julian anyway. Good thing you didn’t have any kids. At least you can still get married again.” “I’ll call Mrs. Chen and see if her son is home. Stop unpacking. Go get dressed up and meet him.” She started fumbling with her old flip phone, trying to find the right buttons. I slammed a pile of clothes into my suitcase. “What, do you think I can’t live without a man?” I snapped. “If you like Mrs. Chen’s son so much, why don’t you marry him?” “All you ever talk about is setting me up. You’d think he was some kind of prize! Did he even get out of jail yet? You want me to go out with some bum who can’t hold down a job? Am I even your daughter?” My mother’s face darkened, her eyes glinting with a feral rage. “He’s not holding your divorce against you, you should be grateful! You keep being picky and you’ll end up alone! You think you can just be a burden on me for the rest of your life?” I felt a lump of anger rise in my throat, choking me. It was impossible to reason with her. She wouldn’t listen. Her old-fashioned, toxic ideas were embedded in her bones. Even her own daughter had to bend to them. I stopped unpacking and just shoved everything into my old room, slamming the door. “I won’t be a burden on you,” I yelled through the door. “I’ll be out of here in a few days.” I heard the sound of her wheelchair rolling across the floor, then a loud banging on my door. She was screaming at me, saying I had gotten too big for my britches, that I was rebelling. “Even if you move out, you’re still going on that date!” she shrieked. “Your divorce is embarrassing enough! Do you want to make it so I can’t even face my neighbors?” “And what’s so wrong with Kevin? Don’t listen to gossip. I’m your mother, I would never do anything to hurt you…” I found my earbuds and shoved them in my ears. Then I opened my phone and started looking for apartments. This house was just as suffocating as it had always been. I thought that if I could just find a place to hide, get the divorce finalized once Julian was out of the hospital, my life could finally be peaceful. But things rarely go as planned. After another day of being unable to eat, of running to the bathroom to throw up, I found myself staring at a pregnancy test. Two pink lines. I was completely lost.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385223”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel